On of the best things about all this walking is discovering wonderful little shops like this one:

We popped in here the other day to find a gift for our friends, Jacky and Pascale, to thank them for their great kindness last year. One of the gentlemen inside the shop helped us and we ended the exchange with the traditional, “Merci. Au revoir!” and left. Since “revoir” means to see again, people will often add the specifics of exactly when they expect to meet again, like “à demain” (see you tomorrow) or “à dimanche” (see you Sunday), but you only add that part if you are actually expecting to see someone at the specific time or day mentioned, so unless you’re a very regular customer, au revoir is usually all you hear and say when leaving a shop.

While making our purchase, I had admired a bottle bag with handy dividers, but left without buying it, then remembered all the bottles we’re constantly toting, changed my mind, and turned around and went back immediately. The vendeur was a bit surprised to see us back so soon, but of course sold me what I wanted and even told me the French for it–sac compartimenté, since I know you’re wondering–then concluded the transaction with the traditional “Au revoir” but this time added “À tout à l’heure!” (See you in a few minutes!) What a comedian. Made us laugh, though.

Shopping takes on a whole new feeling when you’re living sans voiture. Anything you decide you can’t live without must be fetched on foot from some distance, and everything you buy must be schlepped home. Beverage consumption has to be choreographed so you don’t run out of milk, juice, wine, vodka, etc. all on the same day. The water’s safe to drink, of course, but doesn’t taste fabulous, so we also buy bottles of drinking water.

On the plus side, we’re getting lots of exercise, seeing lots of gorgeous flowers along the way:

And there’s a posh new shopping bag in the house this year from the Groeninge Museum in Bruges, with a reproduction of Jan van Eyck’s The Madonna with Canon van der Paele (click link to find a better visual and the art history lesson). I’m sure the original is stunning: vibrant and colorful and unusual–since it depicts a vision–but I didn’t get it at all at first. I thought it was some sort of time-warp version of the classic adoration of the magi theme, with a priest in full jeweled splendor, a knight in armor, and some balding white guy (the canon) instead of the magi. Despite my ignorance, it classes up the schlepping considerably. I call it “Baby Jesus Goes Shopping.”

I don’t know if our nearest neighbor speaks English, but if so, she may have been surprised the other day to hear me call back to David in the house, “Don’t forget Baby Jesus!”    

La Rochelle is a very walkable city–which is fortunate for us, since we don’t have a car here–so we go everywhere à pied (on foot).

David, especially, is getting very comfortable with les petite rues (the tiny streets), since he walks quite a bit while waiting for me to finish class. I admit to taking the bus to school in the morning, because the sun is not even up at 7:45 a.m. and it would be a chilly 45-minute walk. (You can put away the wimp-meter–I know.) David, on the other hand, now meets me at school, after having walked all the way, plus some meandering for purely exploratory purposes .

This charming bit of history is not even a major park, just a refreshing bit of green space we encounter when we walk home sometimes. We take different routes on different days, some more green that others, but even the centre-ville routes have les petit jardins here and there.

If you read the Reconnaissance Mission posts (specifically Il y a du Soleil), you may remember the artist with the origami. This is the mini-park where he attempted to keep his artwork upright last year. No artist there at the moment. This photo was taken this past Sunday–through the bars. Apparently this gem of a garden is private.

One of the great things about La Rochelle is that there are loads of sidewalks that are covered with beautiful stonework arcades (pronounce ar-cahd, even when plural). This one happens to be empty of people because all the shops are closed on Sundays.

Super brilliant idea, les arcades, because no umbrella is needed, and when the streets get crowded, les parapluies can be a bit awkward to negotiate. David tends to think I’m about to put his eye out (likely true). Consequently, j‘adore les arcades. But amidst all the stone, flowers are very welcome, like this glowing jewel of a tulip I eventually noticed blooming in a little strip of soil next to the bus station.

I’d hurried by it daily for a week, oblivious, until the day I had my camera in hand, which slowed me down considerably. All kinds of details sprang to life. I’ve been told that life takes on a whole new dimension when you try to draw, paint or photograph it, and I’m finding it true. As Vivian Swift* says, “See as much of life as possible, but take time to notice it too.” (And keep your art supplies handy!)

*See the Quotes page for more from Vivian Swift and others.

Yesterday afternoon was Carnaval de La Rochelle, so David and I headed toward the Vieux Port to check it out. We found a great spot near the beginning of the parade and I was able to position myself right at the edge of the road to get the best possible photos and, it turned out, have lots of confetti thrown at me by smiling, mischievous children. How can you not love that!

Carnaval was also sort of beautiful. Loved the stilt-walkers:

This is an annual family affair — as I learned from talking with the woman in a port-side stand who served me a crêpe beurre sucre (yum) — with children, parents and even grandparents dancing along to the drums and other music of the parade. This was my favorite drum group:

And this was my favorite couple caught on film:

A good time was had by all:

I loved all the smiles, certainly those witnessed, but especially those shared. I really believe that’s part of what belonging — wherever you are — is all about. So join a parade if you can. Bang a drum whenever possible. But whatever you do or wherever you go, by all means smile at someone today.

We’re in La Rochelle now, but before I leave the subject of Paris for a while, I wanted to tell you about a couple of the people we met. I’ve been shy about photographing people and have tended to comment mostly on the photos I’m sending you, but David has suggested that I’m leaving out a large part of the experience.

Okay, I did not actually speak to any of these people, but Thursday after checking into our hotel, we wandered across the street to this park, the Jardin des Tuileries to enjoy le printemps (spring) and take a few photos. Since we’d been in France only about an hour, I was still in American mode and made eye contact (and probably even smiled) at an older gentleman walking toward me (neither is generally done in France). Then I started taking a few photographs. Next thing I knew he was right next to me giving me photography tips (in French). David had been about 20 feet away, but disappeared as soon as I had someone to talk to, because he’s VERY committed to me practicing my French and didn’t want to scare the man away. I didn’t understand everything this man was saying , but he was really very friendly–maybe a little lonely–and it was a great jump-start for my French conversation practice (and David was keeping an eye on us from a distance).  Bet monsieur would have let me take his photo, too! Must remember to ask.

If you’ve ever been to Paris you’ve probably seen the classic “gold” ring scam attempted about every block. We don’t understand exactly how it works–and there may be several versions–but we do know enough to say no and keep moving. David, again insisting that I practice my French, had me ask the desk clerk at the hotel to explain, which he was apparently ecstatic to do.  Unfortunately my French was too weak to understand the complexities of the scam in his super-quick French, only catching phrases like, “C’est une ruse!” (which we had already figured out) and “pickpocket” (which even with a French accent is pretty clear). Still I loved that we’d made him so happy, and I must have nodded in all the right places because he didn’t once switch to English, and as a hotel clerk in Paris, he most certainly speaks English.

That’s just two of the six or eight conversations with strangers I had in Paris, aided and abetted by David, and I / we have had a few more here in La Rochelle. Stories for another day, perhaps. Meanwhile, you can picture us chatting, listening, nodding and even smiling, although we’re trying on the French style of waiting for a reason to smile. I can assure you there are plenty.

Here’s a jonquille for you, in case they’re not quite blooming yet where you are: