Beauty was definitely the theme of our spur-of-the-moment weekend in Paris. David’s brother and sister-in-law decided at the last minute to join a reunion choir trip and brought their two daughters along, so we had a mini-family reunion. Despite the rail strike we made it to the Saturday evening concert in l’Eglise Saint-Séverin:

Magnifique, in spite of the annoying guy video-taping with his phone. I followed instructions and disabled my flash, so the photo is not very clear, but you can see Tom and Meg if you look carefully.

It’s June in Paris, so les trottoirs (sidewalks) were mobbed. We cut through the Louvre courtyard on the way back to the hotel.

The beauty in Paris was not just for the eyes. We happened upon this guy on the way through. The acoustics were amazing and he was very good–a little piece of heaven.

On Sunday we all met after breakfast and decided to tour Sainte-Chapelle. Climb up a tiny, winding staircase and WOW. Breathtakingly gorgeous thirteenth-century stained-glass windows 15 meters high. Stunning.

Unless you’re finding yourself actually short of breath about now, I can assure you the photos don’t even begin to do them justice.

After lunch, Tom and Meg had to get ready for another concert, and Amy and Ellie were planning to go to the Louvre, so we said our au revoirs. It was too nice a day to stay inside, so David and I found a couple of chairs in the Tuileries to enjoy the afternoon along with the locals — boules, also called petanque, for the big boys and girls. . . .*

Sailboat rentals for the little ones.

Love these little boats. The keels are weighted so they don’t capsize, but the wind can catch the sails and send them heeling over and skimming across the pond like they’re competing for a silver cup. The different colors let the “sailors” keep track of which boat is theirs. The sticks are for sending it on its way again when it gets to the side. Saw a few parents get whacked, accidentally I think, as they tried to help a bit too much. Best to keep your distance and enjoy the whispering breeze and the sun glowing through the multicolored sails.

*As I was taking the petanque photos, and David had walked a bit ahead, a friendly gentleman came over to tell me it was fine to take photos (or to chat me up, I’m not quite sure). He explained the game and their league amicale, and I told him we have this game in the states, but “les français sont plus . . . ” (the French are more . . .) and as I hesitated and wracked my brain for a French word for “skilled” he offered, “Cool?” Haha. Another comedian. His buddies wanted their picture taken, but they don’t seem to quite fit the beauty theme, so here’s a last shot of one of the bouquinistes’ stands along the Seine.

Now that’s beautiful!

Yesterday (Saturday) we decided to venture a bit further afield, so grabbed the camera, walked to the train station, and bought an aller-retour ticket to Rochefort for the day.

The ticket allowed us to get on the next train stopping there and choose any train we wanted coming back, which was perfect, since we didn’t know how long we’d want to stay.

Rochefort turned out to be quiet and pretty, and practically deserted.

We weren’t really in a museum mood, so had lunch in Place Colbert, then walked over the find the replica of the ship Hermione, one of the main attractions of Rochefort.

The original Hermione was used by the Marquis de Lafayette in 1780 to head over to America to help the Americans with the revolution. The replica took twenty years to build, using only the methods in use at the time of the original, but someone is apparently confident she’s seaworthy. They’re scheduled to sail to the Americas in 2015. Um, okay. You go ahead without me.

Loved the peaceful parks, and the palm-tree-lined, clean, quiet streets, but after a bit more wandering we decided to catch the 20-minute train back to La Rochelle and see what was happening around Cours des Dames, our favorite people-watching spot.

As it turned out, plenty was happening, some of it neither quiet nor pretty:

There were four or five others just like this guy, including a couple of kids, strolling around Cours des Dames, posing for photos and passing out flyers for some event to which apparently I was not invited, since they did not give me a flyer. I think I’ll get over it.

Too big a crowd to get photos when some dancers had the music playing and were going all-out, but when we walked by later during a break and I pulled out my camera, a couple of the guys did a few tricks for me:

Came across Renoir, I mean this guy, on the way home:

And a bit further on, this cheerful couple:

So no, La Rochelle is definitely not as quiet, and maybe the people aren’t always exactly, well, normal. But it sure felt great to step off the train and stroll along the familiar streets toward the bustling centre ville. It felt, actually, kind of like home.

This past weekend was the Cavalcade de La Rochelle, which involved carnival rides and games and an illuminated parade Saturday night.

It seemed like it might offer some photo ops and give me something new to tell you about, so we walked back to the vieux port just before dark. It was absolutely mobbed. The streets from Place de Verdun, where the parade was to start,  all the way to Quai Duperré were already lined with people, so the easiest place to walk was right down the center of the street. There were enough of us heading in the same direction that it almost felt like we were our own pre-parade. I did manage to resist the urge to prom-queen wave. Here’s the same street a bit later with the real parade:

Since it seemed we were already too late to get a front spot for the parade, we managed instead to snag a table at a cafe, where we had a drink and then, yes, of course, un café. When you order un café here, you’re actually getting an espresso. If you want more water in it, so it’s more like American coffee, you have to order un café allongé, which David likes. But I don’t like the taste of coffee enough to prolong the experience. I prefer the quick jolt of an espresso that has you wanting to yodel like Tarzan.

 It was another great opportunity for people watching. Everyone seemed content to stand for nearly an hour, chatting with friends, watching children, maybe buying a bag of confetti. Even after the parade actually showed up–“got going” would be a misleading choice of words–the legendary Rochelais patience was strongly in evidence. I’ve never seen a slower parade, with five-to-ten-minute stops for who knows what. Note the irony in the photo below: the woman in the speedboat, the fact that they happened to stop in front of a pawnshop offering “Speed Cash,” and the guy dressed as a sailor leaning on the float with his ankles crossed. He knows they’re not going anywhere soon.

It was excellent for photography, though, because it was bright and colorful and there was absolutely no danger of anything going by too fast.

Sometimes the spectators would actually just walk out into the middle of the street and take a few pictures.

Although David and I have now been here for two months, we have not managed to acquire this low-key attitude quite to this degree, so we decided to walk against the flow of the parade to speed the process a bit. Guess we’ll always be American.

We had the night streets nearly to ourselves on the way home.

Postscript: There was another parade Sunday afternoon (presumably sans lights) but we decided to head home after lunch in town and didn’t catch that one. Saw this on the way home. Word to the wise: don’t park on the parade route. Here’s what happens to your car if you do: