Just Life| Lafayette statue

It was a cold December afternoon in Paris. It was getting dark and I couldn't find a taxi for us to get to the hotel so we were walking briskly along the Seine River hoping to get to our hotel before dark.

As we were walking, we noticed a monument right next to the sidewalk. It was the statue of a man on a horse. There was a plaque and it said that the statue was a gift from the American school children to France. The statue was depicting Lafayette.

Picture from www.waymarking.com

Since it was getting dark, we didn't linger too long. I told myself that I should look up the history behind it. Three years later, I am still trying to find out some more info about that statue.

Picture from www.waymarking.com

I came across a New York Times article dating back to July 5, 1900 that was referring to the unveiling of this statue in Paris on July 4th, 1900 in Paris.

The ceremony was attended by the French President and the American Ambassador. 2000 people attended this event.

"The monument was unveiled by two boys representing school children of France and America." One of the children was no other than Lafayette's great grandson.

I also came across this article from the Chicago Tribune dating January 20, 1954 referring to this statue saying that it was purchased by collecting pennies and small changes from the American School children. 

According to this article, the statue was " a gesture of gratitude to France for her gift of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor."

Five million American school children donated to this cause. The statue was the work of the American sculptor Paul Wayland Bartlett.

Ari in front the statue of Lafayette.

This statue is located on the right bank of the Seine, between Bridge Alexander III and the Bridge Des Invalids.

I still don't know who started this idea but that was for sure a great gesture.

Signing off until next Monday- Panteha

Just Life| Pont des Arts

It was a cold winter morning in Paris. I was walking with my daughter along the River Seine trying to get to Notre Dame when we came across this unattractive bridge over the Seine River. It was called Pont des Arts.

" What an ugly bridge"

Pont des Arts. Picture from DEMOTIX.COM

The bridge was so unattractive and out of place compared to all the other magnificent bridges that we had seen so far.

The bridge had black railings and there were thousands and thousands of padlocks covering the railings on both sides.

There has to be a story behind it. I was a bit intrigued. Later on, I was surprised by what I learned about that bridge.

I found out that lovers go to Pont des Arts bridge and attach padlocks to it's railing and then they throw the keys in the river below to achieve eternal love.

How romantic is that. The bridge was becoming more attractive by the second. I wished my husband was there with us.

Pont Alexandre III, Paris

I have never been fortunate enough to visit Paris with my husband, but when that day comes, I guarantee that I am taking a sturdy padlock with me. :)

So, don't forget Pont des Arts on your trip to France and don't forget to check out travel books from your local library.

Notre Dame

Signing off until next Monday- Panteha

Learning | Montmartre

Montmarte's been on my mind lately, because of a few books I've been reading. You know Montmarte, the section of Paris with the Can Can dancers, artists, and Bohemian lifestyle at the end of the nineteenth century? The name conjures up visions of the Moulin Rouge, and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

Toulouse-Lautrec. Image from page 9 of "Le peintre-graveur illustré : (xix et xx siècles)" (1906)
from the Internet Archive Book Images' photostream on  Flickr.com.
No known copyright restrictions.

The name Montmartre means "Mountain of the Martyr," referring to St. Denis, who is said to have been beheaded on this hill in 250 A.D. It's interesting to note that the older, Roman name for this place is Mons Martis (Mount of Mars.) Here's a YouTube video, with the English pronunciation of the word:
  

If you would prefer to say a French place name as the French do, you can visit Forvo.com to listen to French speakers speaking the word.

There's an amusing quote about pronunciation of Montmartre in C. Alan Bradley's latest mystery, As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust: A Flavia de Luce Novel. Flavia described a facial characteristic that "can come only from speaking French from the cradle." She deduces which faculty member at her new school is the French teacher because of this trait; she supports her conclusion in a discussion of a woman in Bishop's Lacey, England. "She was from Montmartre, pronounced through the nose." 

Flavia says so many pithy things, that I probably would not have noticed the Montmartre reference, if I had not just finished reading a more macabre mystery. The Devil in Montmartre: a mystery in fin-de-siècle Paris by Gary Inbinder is a sometimes gruesome historical mystery. Toulouse-Lautrec is one of several suspects, which include Jack the Ripper and some international visitors. The characters include artists, art dealers/agents, writers, doctors, photographers, dancers, prostitutes, ragpickers and acrobats, to name a few categories.  The story takes place near the end of the Paris Exposition universelle de 1889. That was the World's Fair; the Eiffel Tower was created for the event. A young detective on the case tries to get his superiors to accept the use of fingerprints as evidence; he has read about them.  This case provides an opportunity to experiment with techniques for collecting fingerprints, and interpreting the results logically.  Look out for plot twists!

Since I'm on a Montmartre kick right now, I looked around for other historical mysteries related to the topic.  

Murder in Montmartre: an Aimee Leduc Investigation, by Cara Black is not available from SSJCPL's system, but I just requested this book through Link+. It's good to know there's another Aimee Leduc mystery that I have not yet read! I like this fast-paced series, which takes place in modern Paris. Aimee Leduc is a young private investigator with a computer-savvy partner. Because Paris has been around for so long, investigations often touch on objects or subjects which have a link to the past.

The Wanderlust Librarian| A Taste of Paris in the Bay Area (Throwback Thursday)

One of the things I miss most about my time in Paris (albeit short)  are the croissants. Many people told me that there are no bad patisseries in Paris. Lizzie and I tested that theory on our first day in the City of Light. We went to a patisserie across the street from our hotel. A huge window looking into the shop betrayed its contents. Inside was a warmly lit shop with a glass case full of pastries. As the door opened, there was a soft tinkling of a bell announcing our arrival. The smell was beyond intoxicating. The sweet scent of sugar and fresh baked bread air pushed past me in a dizzy blur.

My first French delight was a Pain au Chocolat (chocolate croissant) and a spot of Earl Grey tea. As I took my first bite, I was surprised at the crunch. I was accustomed to soft pastries. I savored every bit of butter, flaky, chocolaty goodness before I started my adventures in Paris. During my 3 day visit, I ingested many croissants (plain and chocolate!) and made sure to document every flavor in my brain.

Coming back to the United States, I was dismayed at my croissant choices. They were nothing like France. I longed for the cloudy mornings where the air was thick with history and charm. I wistfully looked out of my bedroom window and sighed.

That is... until I saw a show called The Best Thing I Ever Ate on the Food Network. A chef had talked about the Double Pain au Chocolat at a place called Tartine in San Francisco.  Did I hear this right? A DOUBLE Pain au Chocolat? I was on a new quest to find this miracle. I found it... and it did NOT disappoint. It met all of the rules on the "Proper Croissant" list. 

Here are the (non-official) rules that my friend (who studied in France for a year) and I made to designate a "Proper French Croissant" or PFC. The pictures are of Tartine Bakery's croissant that is as close to PFC I can get without hopping on a plane to Paris

1. The color: A PFC is a deep dark, striped affair. During baking, the top layer takes on a gorgeous mahogany hue. 

Stripey, crunchity, goodness

2. The bend: A lesser croissant will bend easily and let off a few flakes. A PFC will bend, but will shatter a million croissant flakes. It should make bread confetti. 

There were more flakes on my shirt and table.

3. The insides: PFCs take a long time to make. A lot of time is necessary to prep the dough with an insane amount of cold butter to make those gentle layers. When you break the croissant open, there should be folded layers of pillow soft dough.

Look how wafer thin and delicate those layers are!
I can't wait to dig in!

4. The Taste: PFCs should be buttery and rich...and crunchy. It should be like a soft piece of bread that's been buttered generously. It's satisfying to have croissant crumbs on my shirt and on the floor. It means that I enjoyed the croissant fully (and that I'll need to invest in a bib). 

I know that this is another "before" picture, but I think
that the full appreciation of the outside layers deserves
a second look. 

The Wanderlust Librarian | Rena's Paris

"What an immense impression Paris made upon me. It is the most extraordinary place in the world!"  - Charles Dickens

It's Valentine's Day. I'm fortunate enough to have my blog post on such a lovely date. What better subject to write about than the City of Lights... the city where love blooms eternal.. Paris. 

Paris has been burned in my brain since the first time I laid eyes on the Eiffel Tower...on television. Paris influenced me to take 4 years of French in high school instead of Spanish. French cuisine inspired me to try duck a l'orange and escargots (for the record, both REALLY good!). It wasn't until I set foot IN Paris, that my love truly set in. 

The village steeple : taken by Lizzie

The trip I took to Paris was a last minute addition (just 2 1/2 short days) to my week long vacation in London . My friend and I took the Eurostar Train out from London and it took a short 2 hours and 15 minutes from station to station! I was enchanted by the French countryside. There was a church's tall steeple marked the center of the village. I was grateful for the villages further from the train tracks so they didn't speed by.  

The moment I stepped off the train, my world changed. My entire life gathered itself up into a solitary moment of sole on pavement. My heart fluttered like a girl with a crush. My love affair had begun. I spent at least 10 minutes repeating the address of the hotel "trente cinq, rue des Ecoles" so I didn't look like a dunce when we finally got in a cab. 

The Hotel Saint-Jacques was simply delightful. When we got into our room, there was a queen bed and a twin bed. A well-traveled friend recently told me the twin bed was meant for families traveling with small children. This was interesting, as I am used to a hotel room with two beds having 2 of the same size mattress! My friend, Lizzie, graciously took the smaller bed. 

Big Bed / Little Bed... let me sleep! 

Cutest keys ever! 

One of the magical things about Paris is the charm. Most everything I encountered there was a delight and so...Parisian. I'm not embarrassed to say that I remained wide-eyed and giddy through my entire trip. I'm not ashamed to say that I enjoyed being a tourist and basking in the magic. 

It was...IS so much like being in love. The thought of it now makes my heart swell and beat a little faster. There are days, even a few years after visiting, that I wake up and feel like my experience there wasn't real. It's like a dream....Paris is. I feel like my life was given new spirit because I was there. 

The next visit I have will be in 3 short years. I look forward to renewing my spirit and sharing the magic with my daughter. Have you visited a place that was magical? Please share in the comments! 

Until next time, enjoy my pictures and have amazing, lovely adventures! 

Notre Dame from the front (sorry, I
didn't see Quasimodo! )

Le Tour Eiffel 

Of course, there's me... standing scared on the Eiffel Tower

The back of Notre Dame is just as impressive...
AND has a park! 

The Wanderlust Librarian | An Adventure of Epic Proportions

Gift giving comes from the heart. It comes from a good place where opportunity and thoughtfulness meet with a warm embrace. Giving the gift should touch your heart and the heart of the receiver. One of the best gifts I ever gave didn't cost me a lot, but the emotional payoff for the receiver was more than I could have ever imagined.

I met 17 year old, Don (name changed for privacy) when I was working a smaller library. He was a good kid. He met friends at the library so they could use their laptops, volunteered to help with the Teen Programs, got decent grades and was just an all around good kid. About 4 years ago, I was planning my trip to London with my best friend, Lizzie. We had the opportunity to go to Paris for a couple of days and (after speaking with my daughter, Scout) had made the decision to go.

Like a good researcher, I checked out guide books from the library about Paris to make a list of things I wanted to see. I was really excited about my trip to Europe. My library was a small, neighborhood library, so most of the patrons and all of the staff knew about it. One of the big decisions I had to make was going up the elevator in the Eiffel Tower. I am ridiculously afraid of heights and didn't know if I wanted to spend money on something that scared the tar out of me.

Don came up to me one day and said "You have to go to the Eiffel Tower. It's really cool. I know you said you were afraid of heights, but you really need to go." With a few quick steps, he had left my desk and was soon at a table with his friends. 

I was intrigued. It wasn't WHAT he said, but the WAY he said it. He sounded so sure and confident. He also sounded like he knew what he was talking about. It caught me off guard and I wanted to talk to him a little bit more.

I was able to pull him aside to tell him that I was curious about what he had said a few days before. In low, hushed tones, he told me a tale that was jaw dropping. A couple years prior, his parents had left him in the care of his older cousin (25 years old) while they went to visit some family in Mexico for a month. The older cousin had thrown the idea out of going to Paris for a week. Don had a passport from his family visits to and from Mexico and some money saved from chores and a part time job...he made the snap decision to go. Within a couple of weeks, he and a handful of cousins flew to Paris. Don told me that they stayed in a hostel and just spent their days wandering the streets, eating pastries and visiting famous sights. His eyes lit up when he talked about the Louvre. He recounted how he and his cousins knew no French, but managed to get around town. He talked about climbing the stairs in the Arc de Triomphe, getting to the top and watching the circle of cars whirl around and around the base. His whirlwind trip was a success; with his parents having never known that he went. Don didn't buy any souvenirs for fear that his trip would be found out. The only thing he had was a picture of him and his cousins in front of the Eiffel Tower that he thoroughly hid. He brought it in to show me the next day.

In relation to my own trip planning, I thought of Don in Paris and how a journey so epic had to remain mum. I found it amazing that the other cousins hadn't let the secret slip. Don said the cousins left his name out of any storytelling and he did a lot of the picture taking so he wouldn't be found out.

At the Charles de Gaulle airport outside of Paris, I went to one of the gift shops to look around. There was a little metal Eiffel Tower / Arc de Triomphe statue that just called to me. It beckoned me to take it back to Don. I purchased it immediately.

When I returned to work, Don came to ask me how my trip went. I regaled him with stories of my travels. I told him that I had something for him. I wanted him to know that this gift for him could be a physical representation of his trip. He would be free to  display the little statues without fear of being found out and honestly tell his parents he received it as a gift. But...that really, both he and I knew that it was a symbol of a great trip.

I reminded him that he went to Paris first and that I was grateful that his moment of honesty and excitement helped me to (one time) conquer my fear and embrace the experience. When I finally made it to Paris (saving this for another entry), I DID go to the Eiffel Tower and I went up the elevator. It was scary.

As I had mentioned before, Don came into the library a lot. When I was told I'd be transferred to a new library, I welcomed the new challenge...but I was also sad. I would miss my co-workers and the patrons that I had grown to know. 

It's been a while since I've seen Don. Once in a while one of his friends will come to the library to say hello and I'll inquire about him. As far as I know, he's going to college in the area. 

If I ever see him again, I'll ask him these questions: 

Did he ever let his parents know about his adventure abroad?
Has he gone since?
Does he still have the statues?

The one question I will never need to ask: 

Do you regret going to Paris? 

....I will never need to ask that question, because I already know the answer. 

The Wanderlust Librarian | The Promise

Sometimes you have to dream a dream bigger than yourself...so when it comes true, you know that a miracle just happened. -Rena 

I wrote that in my journal a long time ago when I was barely a driving 16 year old and had no idea what life was all about. There must have been some old wisdom in my pen, because I kept those words close to me during a hard period in my life. 

My daughter was barely 5 years old and I was newly single. We had just moved back in with my parents and I was feeling pretty low. Little girls, with stars in their eyes, think the world of their mothers and could never bear to see them cry. Mothers of little girls try hard to hide the tears and tell them stories of better times. 

In that vulnerable moment, I made her a promise. A promise that was bigger than ourselves...that once it came true...would be one of the biggest miracles of all. I told her that after she turned 18, we would go to Paris for New Years Eve. Making this promise was scary...because I was working part time and living with my parents. I didn't know if I would have enough gas to get back and forth to work...but it was something that stopped my tears and pushed me to try. To try for my daughter, to try for me...to try for Paris. 

It's 2013. The promise I made so long ago is so close, that I can smell the croissants. Her eyes still light up with the words I told her on my bed in my parents' house. The promise is no longer a dream, but an action. She and I scour websites together, make lists and plan for a trip so close to our hearts. 

Did I know that we would make it to Paris when I made that promise? 

No. 

Did I want to make it to Paris?

Yes. 

Soon after Gwyneth Paltrow's father died in 2002,  I saw this quote. She had asked her father why he had taken her on a special trip to Paris. He told her, “I wanted you to see Paris for the first time with a man who would always love you, no matter what.” 

In 2016, my daughter will be fresh out of high school and halfway into her Freshman year of college. I will be somewhere in my 40s. We will stand under the lights of the Eiffel Tower and cheer in the New Year with crowds of Parisians. 

On eve of 2017, my daughter will be in Paris for the first time with a mother would always love her... no matter what. 

The Wanderlust Librarian | Inspired Travel

Getting lost in a good book or movie transports you to a time and place far away from where you are...but what about if what you're reading or watching inspires you to visit that place?  

Every so often, I see something that calls to me. The writing is so vibrant and rich that it not only transports me, but invites me to visit. The visuals posses me long after the movie is over. While you get ready to enjoy a pleasant Thanksgiving with your family, I'd love to share some of my favorite "Inspired Travel" choices with you.

I am a California girl, born and raised. While I've traveled a lot, one of the places that eluded me was The South. I've heard the slow, melodic accent before and was entranced...but nothing called me to the The South faster than reading Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. In Savannah, Georgia, there are secrets inside the walls of the gorgeous homes and in the dark of the magnolia scented nights. A murder, a cover up and a drag queen add to the whispers. 

While this book took place many decades before I went to Savannah, it left its mark on my traveling heart. I was not disappointed when I finally visited!

Love, Actually is one of my favorite Christmas movies. While it's not particularly new, it shines as the star of my holiday movie watching. It has many of my favorite British actors in it...and is set in London!  There's nothing prettier than an iconic city with snow all around. I don't want to give much away, but Hugh Grant is in it. Who doesn't love Hugh Grant?

It's a lovely reminder of how magical the season is and how great love actually is (See that? See how I worked that in there?). Keep an eye out for Sheriff Rick from the Walking Dead television show. I only watch it between Thanksgiving and December 26. It's a lame rule, but I've been really strict about it!! 

 

I traveled to Paris before Midnight in Paris came out in theaters. This movie captures the magic and allure of Paris. The music is amazing, the characters are fun and the writing is simply charming. It makes me want to go back again! I wish the movie showed more French bakeries. I love, LOVE French bakeries. 

I read a review that Midnight in Paris was Woody Allen's "love letter to Paris". It shows the city in such a whimsical and classic way! 

Armchair travel can be just as fun as traveling to that special destination. I hope that these items and others that you may read or watch, light your path to an amazing adventure!

Adventure is out there! 

 

Life & Style | Paris Or Stockton

Paris or Stockton.

Which one do you pick?

I pick Stockton no question about it. 

I know, I know,

Paris has beautiful museums, Pretty parks, gorgeous bridges, etc etc.

But I can't live in museums or pretty parks. I need a nice  home to stretch my legs after a long day of work. 

Most Parisian apartments fit inside my living room. I don't want to live in a shoe box for the rest of my life.

So I pick Stockton for its affordable big houses.

Try to buy an outfit in Paris and you will see that is going to cost you a third of your salary. In Stockton, I can still buy a nice outfit without going bankrupt. 

So I pick Stockton for its affordable stores.

Don't get me started about its weather. Paris has too many sad rainy days. No wonder it has given the world so many famous poets.

My God, you need a good dose of melancholy to write good poems and by golly, Paris provides plenty of that.

So I pick Stockton for its nice weather.

Parisian customer service is another pet peeve of mine. All Parisian business owners should come to U.S.A for customer service training.  

So I pick my dear Stockton for its friendly customer service.

Voila, Now you have it. I live in a pretty good city.

Here are some French authors who would disagree with me greatly if they were still alive.

Jule Verne

Honord De Balzac

Charles Baudelaire

Signing off until next Monday- Panteha  

 

Learning | Hey, Moose! Where is Crocodile?

My friend, Rukaya, told me about a wonderful picture book written and illustrated by Fred Marcellino, called I, Crocodile. This wry story is told from the point of view of an Egyptian crocodile, who is captured by Napoleon's army and put on display in Paris. The illustrations don't just support the story; they complement it, with whimsical touches -- like the cover picture of the crocodile seated at a cafe table, holding a menu upside down.

History buffs will enjoy the jokes about Napoleon and 19th-century Parisian life; in fact, I think it would be a fun thing to share with high school or college students studying European history. This book is an example of what I call the Bullwinkle Effect: entertainment ostensibly designed for youngsters, but delightful for all ages -- children will enjoy it, but they will miss many of the references and jokes that amuse adults.

When Rukaya showed me the book, I wondered what else Fred Marcellino had written. It turns out he is better known as an illustrator, especially of folk tales. Marcellino's pictures in Natalie Babbitt's Ouch! a Tale from Grimm are just as clever as the ones in I, Crocodile.  I have a feeling I'll enjoy reading The Story of Little Babaji  and The Steadfast Tin Soldier just as much as the other two.