Mouffetard, Musee D'Orsay, Shabbat Dinner

I woke right around the same time as Liat was tending to early morning cries from Arielli and Michaelle, her beautiful nearly-1-year-old twin babies. A bit on Liat and her family: I had never met them prior to this Paris visit, and got connected through a mutual friend, Michal, a cellist studying at NEC who I met while gigging in Boston last summer. Michal lived and studied in Paris for 2 years, thus the connection to Liat's family. Liat is married to Bryan, both of whom are Jewish Americans. Liat was partly raised in Israel, and Bryan met her while studying abroad in Israel during college years, and then didn't return to the States for 10 years. They've lived in Paris for the last four years, although Bryan actually works and lives in Brussels during the week and then comes home to Paris on the weekends. Liat is also studying for her masters at Hebrew University in Paris. They both speak Hebrew, and Liat is also well-versed in Spanish (which she speaks to the babies every other day) and French. Right when I entered their house, I felt completely welcomed. They live in a beautiful flat with an extra guest bedroom + bathroom stocked with as many guide books/Parisian-for-Dummies guides as a person would ever want or need. The guest bedroom operates as a sort of "international hostel" room for people who are direct friends of theirs or (like me) friends of friends...or even friends of friends of friends. Basically, this is one couple that loves company and providing wonderful hospitality. I have always said that Indians and Jews have many common values, and that I feel very much at home in culturally Jewish homes. My experiences in Paris convince me more of this sentiment. Although it is somewhat disappearing in modern culture, the "I am going to do everything possible to make you comfortable because you're my guest" mentality still exists and it's one of the facets of both cultures that I love. I am glad that there are still people today who preserve it. Liat and Bryan are also vegetarians and Liat is a welcoming and talented cook - another major plus in a city that a). expensive for food and b). gives you three varieties of cooked potatoes as a 'vegetarian meal' (ask my sister Neetu about that story). After eating breakfast of tea + pistachio bread (really fantastic! Dad, with your love for pista, you would have enjoyed it), I met the Colombian nanny, Marina, and then Liat and I left together. She went to the gym and I got on the Metro at Ecole Militaire to go to Mouffetard and start on the Parisian Walk of that section. In Roman times and shortly thereafter, this area was known as Bourg St. Marcel, and become populated with working class people - tanners, slaughters, skinners, dyers, and similar craftsmen. Today, the area is most famous for being one of the oldest and liveliest parts of the city. Every Saturday and Sunday, the most incredible market comes to life on the nearly pedestrian-only rue Mouffetard - most of it is alley-sized. The walk started in the churchyard of St. Medard; although it doesn't look particularly unique, the book gave some historical tidbits that are fascinating. Dating from 1163, a lot of what remains is from Gothic mid-fifteenth century renovations, and its courtyard served as a mass burial site until 1765 when a law was passed, forbidding burials within Parisian city limits due to space shortages. People continued to be buried in secret at St. Medard, though until after the Revolution in 1795, the French police wreaked havoc on anyone who broke the law. When an excavation took place in 1913, archaeologists found a layer of bones 24 inches thick! The other fascinating story took place at the grave site of a young Jansenist (dictionary.com offers this for Jansenism (n). - the doctrinal system of Cornelis Jansen and his followers, denying free will and maintaining that human nature is corrupt and that Christ died for the elect and not for all humanity) named Francois Paris, where miracles supposedly took place. A group of young girls came to be possessed by the site and started to do bizarre things, like eat the dirt on the gravestone, fall into religious fits and ecstasies, and would insist on being beaten while screaming the whole day long. The book states, "They wanted to have their tongues pierced, 25-pound-weights placed upon their chests, their bodies raked with iron combs, or their breasts, thighs, and stomachs trampled on until they fainted. Some girls had themselves tortured like this twenty times." After reading this part, I was reminded of "The Crucible" and the Salem Witch Trials. This craziness went on for 35 years and then a the church cemetery was locked and a rhyme was inscribed on the padlock: De par le roi, defense a Diu De faire miracle en ce lieu. By order of the king, God is forbidden To perform miracles in this place. Rather comical, I think! The walk continues on through the markets of Mouffetard, detailing the interesting histories of the houses in the area, explaining the history of the street signs and coat of arms markings on the houses and butcher shops, bakeries, pastry shops, perfumeries, and hotels. I bought a traditional (in boulangeries, you can have a baguette or a traditional, and everyone told me that the traditional was much better, so that's what I always ate...I think it's just bigger and requires a different baking process) arrived at Place Contrescarpe, a picturesque square with a colorful history and a frequent of local bums, and then continued down Rue Blainville to the first public library in Paris (from the 18th century). The walk ended here and I somehow stumbled upon a fantastic vegetarian/vegan cafe in the middle of Mouffetard! It was on Rue Cardinal-Lemoine and was calld Les Cinq Saveurs D'Anada and advertised as having "specialites Macrobiotique et Vegetarienne: 100% bio" (in Europe, 'bio' is organic). Alice's mother gave me a coupon for 7 euros that could be redeemed at most any restaurant in Paris, so my lunch of a brown rice + seaweed salad and a glass of red wine (which made me tipsy for the rest of the afternoon...I always forget how much of a lightweight I really am) cost me only 3 euros. Not a bad deal. I paid and left to walk around the Jardin des Plantes, a beautiful botanical garden in the Latin Quarter of Paris. It's near the Arab Institute, where you can have fresh Moroccan mint tea, something that makes me think of Mary. I have wonderful memories of drinking it with my mother at Pita Inn back home in Chicago. It started to to rain, so I took some quick photos, strolled through, and then walked on Rue Monge (literally, Food Street) until I reached Boulevard St. Germain to go to the Maison Kaiser Boulanger. Liat had read an article about the 10 best boulangeries in Paris, and Maison Kaiser was on the list. She told me that it was in the Mouffetard neighborhood, so I should hit up while on my walk. Definitely no regrets that I walked a bit out of my ways to reach it. I enjoyed a croissant d'amande, or an almond croissant (and I think mine had chocolate, too) on my way to the neighborhood where Notre Dame is. I visited Michal's favorite accessories store, Kazama, full of colorful scarves, beaded jewelry and German tourists. Germany seems to follow me wherever I go (you'll see why when you read about my trip to Louven in Belgium). I am struck by how Indian influenced fashion is today. If people only knew how much cheaper the authentic thing actually is in India than in trendy boutiques in big cities! I suppose that the expenses of a plane ticket to India do impose a financial restriction, though. I sifted through tourists while walking along the Seine River and snapped a very cool picture of a massive barge carrying tons of recyclable paper. I bought a few postcards, and then arrived at the western strip of the riverbank at the Musee D'Orsay. The line was annoyingly long, and so while I waited, a young Pakistani woman struck up conversation with me. She was very done up, new-money looking, and rather ditzy, but her husband who is a politician in Karachi was very interesting - he spoke beautiful French and explained that they were on their honeymoon in London and Paris. We finally got into the museum and I took Michal's advice to start with the third floor and work my way down (3rd - Impressionism, so the most famous collection, 2nd - Belgian/Flemish Art Nouveau, 1st - art leading up to Impressionism). I spent most of my time on the third floor and the second, and I thoroughly enjoyed the collections of Renoir, Monet, and Degas' bronzed dancers. While I do appreciate Impressionism, I am not as crazy about it at some. Nevertheless, it was just fantastic to see one great work of art presented after the other, and in such a manner where you could follow the connections/relationships that the artists' works had on one another. I left the museum at 5:45 and followed the Seine again towards the Eiffel Tower and Liat's apartment. On my way, I passed the American church, advertising a free concert of Schubert lieder on Sunday, and jotted down the information. When I arrived at Liat's, the door was opened by a very startled looking woman who had no idea who I was. I thought I had the wrong apartment, and then Liat's husband Bryan said, "No, no, it's just Geeta, it's fine, let her in" (it being Friday, he was home for the weekend). We introduced ourselves and I immediately took a liking to his easy-going and calm manner. The lady who had answered was Maja, a Russian who married a German. When she heard that I could speak German, she erupted in Bavarian German, the sort of fast and fancy-free accent that Bernhard, my cousin-in-law, speaks with me. Maja is a family friend, along with another lady who sat sipping tea - Klaudia, who is originally Argentinian but has lived in Paris for nearly 25 years. I ended up speaking English with Bryan, German with Maja, and Spanish with Klaudia. It reminded me of being in India and sometimes dealing with four languages at once. Shai, as Israeli friend of the family's who had just moved to Paris 7 months back, arrived. Shai is the boyfriend of another Maja who was good friends with Michal when she lived in Paris. I realized that they all knew each other, and that Liat + Bryan were the connection, and finally the whole circle of people made sense to me. The last person to arrive was Claire, a Canadian who has lived in Paris for the past 6 years and works as a lawyer in the international court system. Our first conversation: Me: "So, how do you like Paris?" Claire: "It's whatever, Paris. I'm trying to leave actually." Me: "Where? And why?" Claire: "London. To find a husband. But the French are, you know, [mumbles something French in a hilarious, oh-I-can't-help-you way], Latin, as they like to be called. They all marry too early here so I can't find anyone. Maybe it's the Catholic thing, I dunno." Me: "Oh." (Makes immediate connection between Claire and Miranda from Sex & The City. Mental note: this lady's damn cool). Maja and Klaudia left to go home, and after putting the kids to bed, Shai, Claire, Liat, Bryan and I sat down for Liat's incredible dinner. I noticed a big loaf of freshly baked challah cooling off on the table, and realized, hey. It's Shabbat. They're Jews. So we're having Shabbat dinner, my first one ever. This is so cool. We went through the ritual of blessing the bread, washing our hands and returning to the table without saying a word, and then everyone drank from a goblet of wine and had a piece of bread, just like our prasad ritual. Liat made an amazing Mexican corn soup, a Moroccan soup, and a bulgar (kasha) dish. Through out the meal, we all enjoyed challah with olive spread and a tomato dip. I had fixed a big feta salad, and although none of us had room for dessert, we put together a great chocolate fondue + fruit platter. It was an incredibly satisfying meal, complete with a full on explanation on my behalf of Jainism/Hinduism/how I grew up culturally. Geeta Abad the Walking Multicultural Museum Exhibit. Such is life. I spoke with Alice after dinner and we agreed to meet up the following afternoon at Cafe Angelina on Rue de Rivoli. It's supposed to serve the best hot chocolate "I've ever had" according to Liat, and while I'm sure it's good, I wonder if it can beat Burdick's. That's a tough call, as the Bostonians out there know...