Me Revoila!

You haven't heard a day-by-day description because I really filled my days there and wasn't getting back to my hotel room until the wee hours of morning.  By then, between all of the bike riding, museum and cathedral visits and socializing, I was tired, though in good ways.

Perhaps, in reading the previous sentence, you might think I shouldn't be calling this blog "Midlife Cycling" anymore.  But I'll continue to do so because, well, what else am I going to call it?  Anything with "Old" or "Senior" in the title just wouldn't have the same ring. Besides, I want to stick to "Midlife Cycling" as an act of defiance, just as I continue to speak French for as long as I can get away with it after getting home from a trip.

But I digress...and now I'll confess:  I simply wanted to spend a few days un-tethered to my electronic devices.  I didn't turn on my laptop and or answer e-mails on my smartphone unless they came from my friends in Paris or anything else related to my trip. 

I mean, when the spire of the Eiffel Tower is peering from behind l'Ecole Militaire, across the street from my hotel (the Derby Eiffel), the Seine is a five-minute walk away, and art, great food, friends and new bike lanes--real ones!--beckon, why would I want to spend time with my face in front of a screen? 

During the next few days, I'll tell you more about my trip...including, of course, where and what I rode!

Until Today, I Hated Only One Thing About France

I didn't ride this bike

as interesting as it looks.  Parked outside a boutique in the "Village Suisse" not far from where I'm staying,  it's the kind of bike that's all but impossible to find in the United States. 

 

One thing I love about it is that it's a testament to how a well-made older bike can continue to serve someone, if in a different way from how its previous owner(s) rode it.  

Just about any bike "of a certain age" will need to have its tires replaced. (I must say, though, that even a decade or so ago, I read and heard that owners of Raleigh three-speeds from the sixties or earlier will try any and all things to keep the original Dunlop tires--which, as I understand, were exclusive to Raleigh three-speeds--intact, if not ready for daily use.) Also, if the bike had caliper brakes, it will need new cables and pads.  Chains and pedals also are often damaged, worn or missing.  Finally, if the bike had a leather saddle, it might be dry-rotted or otherwise damaged from not getting the care it needed.

So it's no surprise to see new tires (or a front wheel) on this bike.  As the bike has a coaster brake and, therefore, no derailleur or other shifting mechanism, there weren't any cables to replace.  I don't know what kind saddle originally graced this machine, but it's a bit of a surprise to see something that looks like a Brooks Professional--albeit with holes punched in it--with such upright bars.

I really would have liked to ride that bike.  I mean, really, how can you not love something with a reflector like this

even if it isn't the original?

I couldn't ride this bike. (Well,  I could have, but I don't steal bikes--just lovers and spouses. ;-)) But I did get to borrow one somewhat like it--what seemed to be a French-made Dutch-style city bike--for a day.  

Unfortunately, I neglected to photograph it, but it took me along the Left and Right Banks, and up to another "date" with my friend Jay.

About Velib:  It's been a long time since I've seen a site or service so frustrating to use.  When I typed in my information--including my home address and phone number--in the requested format (phone number with country code selected from drop-down format, the area code and number without any spaces or characters that aren't numerals and my address in the air-mail format), the site "auto corrected" them to the American format:  (1 (212) 555-1212; 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, DC, 20001, FRANCE) no matter how many times I went back and corrected it. Then, when I tried to buy a pass, the site said it couldn't process my request because my phone number and address weren't in the required format--which I typed in, repeatedly.

For years, I told people that I loved Paris and France, with the exception of Charles de Gaulle Airport. (Then again, how many airports do people actually "love?") Now I can add one other thing about this city and country that I don't love--and, in this case, actually hate:  Velib Metropole, the official name of what everyone calls Velib.

 

Not According To Plan, But I'm Happy

I didn't get a chance to try Velib today, as I'd anticipated.  For one thing, I woke up later than I'd planned. (Then again, last night--or, should I say, this morning--I stayed out later than I expected.)  Then, Jay called:  Isabelle was "invited" to an official function and wouldn't be able to accompany me and him tomorrow, as we'd planned. So he asked if we could see a film and have dinner today.

Of course I accepted:  As much as I wanted to ride, visit museums and such, I want to see them.  (Also, this afternoon brought the first rain of my trip, along with a significant temperature drop.) So we went to an old-school independent movie house--with red velour chairs and a "stage"-- called the Brady.  From what I understand, it's the same theatre in which Francois Truffaut started to view, and make, films.  

The Truffaut connection made sense because we saw "Armageddon Time"--in English, with French subtitles, which I read just to see how some things would translate.  Isabelle is a fan of its director, James Gray and I must say that she has taste.  In some ways, AT reminded me of "Le Quatre Cent Coups" ("The 400 Blows.")  In Truffaut's foundational New Wave film, as in AT, a boy who is misunderstood befriends someone who shares in his misadventures.  And, the final scene of each movies' protagonist had similarly enigmatic expressions upon running away.

After the film, which left all of us--and, it seemed, everyone else in the theatre--stunned, we went to a nearby bistro.  I chose one of the  specials for the day:  a large classic Lyonnaise salad consisting of frisee (a.k.a. curly endive),  lardons (chunky cuts of salt pork that are poached to remove impurities, then fried to a crisp), topped with a poached egg, two wedges of toast topped with a dollop of pate de foie gras and a light vinagrette dressing.  It sounds so simple, but the flavors are intense and as a meal, it's more than satisfying.  And, since I don't eat much meat and most of my animal-protein consumption comes from cheese (by choice), this was a great "splurge."  

This chair was in every one of Picasso's studio spaces.

Anyway, before meeting up with Jay and Isabelle I did manage to sneak in a visit to the Musee Picasso.  Part of the museum, which normally contains much of its permanent collection, was closed.  So, the admission price was cut in half (from 14 to 7 Euros) for the privilege of seeing three special exhibits: one detailing his working methods and spaces and two others showing works by contemporary artists influenced by Picasso.

Picasso

Atassi

Franco-Belgian painter Farah Atassi, who is of Syrian descent, takes Picasso's distortions of the human (especially different) direction.  While he tended to give his subjects oversize limbs and to exaggerate features of the face and body, she pares the limbs of her bathers, dancers and models down to angular forms, as if to accentuate only their function--which could mean anything from actually propelling or supporting the body to simply creating another form for the artist.  The bodies took on, not just the form, but the essence of their subjects:  the bathers' torsos were enlarged but wavy, if you will, while the dancers' bodies were rounded or angled by whether they were dancing, reclining or sitting.  And the models' bodies, like their limbs and heads, were just props for the artist, though one image suggests a "burining."

On the other hand, Pierre Moignard became obsessed with the drawings Picasso made during the last year of his life.  Some of his work consists of those drawings, or parts of them, superimposed on his own paintings. Is he trying to show how Picasso might have "finished" or "continued" those works--if, indeed, they are not complete?

Then again, what do we mean by "complete?"  I had planned to ride today, but didn't.  But the day was fulfilling, which is pretty good working definition of completeness, at least for me.