Et Vive La Musique!

Toussaint! Yes, All Saints’ Day, November 1, which is a legal holiday here in France – although not one greatly observed. Sort of like, oh, Columbus Day in the U.S. – no banks, no post offices, no school, but most everything else is open. It did seem like most stores opened a bit later than usual, though.

There’s also been a definite weather change today. Right with the 1st of the new month a light, but chilly wind has come up. It was gorgeous all day today – bright blue skies with big puffy clouds – but all the Parisians, I noticed, were all bundled up today. And here I am running around in my polo shirt, just about as happy as can be because the humidity (between the intermittent rain and warmth of the last several days) is finally gone and it’s the first day I haven’t started sweating rivers the moment I started moving! Sure it was a bit chilly, but, hey, I hate humidity. The Parisians probably I thought I was trés fou – but better than walking around with that apparent “touriste” sign on yesterday at Montmartre!

Not being sure what might or might not be open today, I first thought I’d see if either the open-air market at the Place d’Aligre was open or any of the supermarkets (just in case). The Aligre market is normally open every day except Mondays, and today turned out to be no exception. This market is not as upscale as the one at the Bastille on Thursdays and Sundays. Which I suppose means the prices are even better, but I didn’t really check that today (nor did I buy anything – quelle surprise!). Perhaps because it’s a bit déclassé, you hear other languages being spoken around this market than French, largely, it seems, Arabic. That may also be a function of the particular neighborhood because I noticed that the adjacent meat market sells halal meat (Muslim equivalent of kosher).

Don’t get me wrong, though: while there’s halal meat on one corner, there are butcher shops inside of the covered market also just adjacent that not only have all the usual gentile French fair, but even have baby pigs set up in roasters just like we have chickens roasting in the deli sections of our markets in the States – and a roasted pig (or any other) would definitely not be halal! The covered market also had stalls with beautiful flowers, gorgeous veggies, unbelievably fresh fish (with varieties we’ve never even heard of at home) and cheese, cheese, and more cheese. You have to understand that cheese is serious food in France: they make 300 varieties of it.

One thing I did notice on my walk is that some of the bakers had taken the day off. This causes somewhat of a concern in Paris because the normal ritual is to do all of one’s shopping each morning, normally in these open-air markets, including stopping off to buy one’s freshly baked breads. Remember, I told you that breakfast in France is coffee, maybe orange juice, and a croissant and, oftentimes, also a baguette. So you need to have bakers open in the morning or you may have an immediate serious problem. So the upshot of the “problem” I just mentioned is that there were lines out the doors of the open bakeries because the others had taken the day off. I wonder if they arrange between themselves who will take what days off and who will stay open so that life, although momentarily disrputed, can still go on in Paris!

After that, I hoped on the good old Métro for Parc La Villette, which is an interesting park with some old structures, some new in the northeast section of the city. I went out there to visit the Musée de la Musique, the Museum of Music. I told you there was a museum for everything here. It was actually a lot of fun. They presently have an exhibit called something like “John Lennon: Unfinished Music.” Rather than being about actual music never completed – although I don’t know that much about what may have been on his later solo records nor do I read enough French to be sure that in fact that wasn’t what was on display! – it was really, at least as I perceived it, about the unfinished music of his life itself. It was a great retrospective with lots of exhibits from just about every period of his life, everything from his birth certificate and grade school report cards, to the costumes he wore on the Sergeant Pepper’s album and in Magical Mystery Tour, to the crazy artwork he did with whacky old Yoko (sorry, but I still can’t quite get her). When John was shot, for a couple of weeks afterwards I couldn’t get his tune “In My Life” out of my head; so for me, the most touching exhibit was the manuscript of his lyrics for that wonderful, poignant song.

One of those things that never changes in life, apparently, is Yoko Ono. As you left the exhibit, the staff handed everyone a little key chain flashlight, imprinted “Onochord, Paris, Y.O. 2005” and a postcard with a picture of Yoko flashing the little light at you and a message on the back explaining that the idea is that Yoko wants everyone, everywhere, all over the world and at all times, to walk around flashing these little lights in the sequence of one flash, two flashes, then three flashes, signifying (one) I, (two) love, (three) you. It’s so corny I can’t stand it – but it’s also so John and Yoko that it makes me cry to remember.

The rest of the museum was amazing if you’re at all into music. There are over a thousand instruments on display, mostly European, although some very interesting non-Western as well. Of course, the entire history of Western music is represented, and some of the early instruments were just amazing. I, of course, was particularly intrigued by the incredible carving and inlaying on early guitars, from about the 1600s. I was also surprised to find out that the famous Antonio Stradivari not only made the world’s finest violins (of which two were on display), but also guitars (of which one was on display)! They also had such wonderful things as pianos owned by Haydn and Chopin, and the Hector Berlioz “signature model” guitar (a guitar that composer had owned on which he’d signed his name).

After taking in the music museum and taking quite a few photos of this interesting park (I didn’t go into the science and industry museum, which is the big children’s museum in Paris), I took the Métro back with an eye toward getting things ready for the trip to Milan on Thursday – called the hotel for directions from Malpensa Airport, bought my Métro tickets to and from Charles de Gaulle Airport, etc. And that’s pretty much it for my first holiday in Paris.

It turns out the day Carol arrives, November 11, is also a holiday here, and the same one as in the States: Armistice Day. Or at least used to be. Funny, I can’t remember now. Didn’t we end up dumping Armistice Day and wrap it into Veterans Day? Alors…

Of course, les photos:

Scenes from the market at the Place d'Aligre:









The meat market catty-corner to the open air market (with their sign about Halal meat over the door).



Cheese after cheese in the enclosed market next door.



Where else in the world would roast suckling pig be fast food?



And always beautiful, beautiful vegetables.



Morrison may be buried in Paris, but Jimi's still alive on the streets -- here he is at the Metro exit outside my Passage!



Here's a photo I was able to take of one of John Lennon's old guitar cases right before the museum docent advised me that photos were "interdite" (forbidden!) in the Lennon exhibit. Oops!



Look at the inlaying on these 17th century guitars! I still have a long, long way to go as a luthier.

And here are several photos from around Parc La Villette:













And last but not least, a little love from Yoko: