Mona Lisa or La Joconde as she is know here in France has the curators of Louvre worried, although they did say they didn’t want to minimise or exaggerate « ni minimiser ni dramatiser », their worries about what is possibly the most famous painting in the world. The poplar wood panel on which Mona Lisa is painted is more ‘warped than previously’. The museum has launched a study. Fortunately (for tourists) the painting will remain in view throughout the period. Leonardo Da Vinci painted it sometime between 1503 and 1506 and it is said to be the portrait of the wife of a Florentine gentleman Francesco di Bartolomeo di Zanoli del Giocondo and therefore, in France, she is known as La Joconde.
The Louvre is an enormous museum with three floors and 4 wings and it is very easy to get lost and should some one really set out to see it properly, it would take a week, or maybe a fortnight or even longer. And yet, we all know what the big draw is. La Joconde. Past the entrance through the crystal pyramid and beyond the ticket counter, there are, at regular intervals, prints of Mona Lisa with a red arrow pointing the way to the where she is, in a large room, with 2 and a half walls to herself. I guess the authorities have grown tired of asking people not to film or photograph her. There are officials present who try to dissuade people from taking photos but are totally ineffective since the minute they turn their attention towards someone, some one takes the opportunity of this diversion to quickly take a snap! Infact, the hall through which one has to go through to reach the Mona Lisa, is split into two by a thick rope: One side for entering the room and the other for exiting. This is a pity because the hall contains some wonderful paintings including Da Vinci’s Virgin on the Rocks. But the huge line of people will impatiently shove you forward if you linger in front of the photos. And Mona Lisa herself is surrounded by people at all times 10 deep if not more. So more often than not, one ends up with a photo of a several heads all with cameras and a dark brownish picture! The painting has taken on a brownish cast due to the accumulation of dust and dirt and chemical changes to the varnish covering its surface. And then it is covered by a thick piece of glass for protection against a million flashes. It seems that the painting was originally larger and two coloumns one on the left and on the right have been cut away and so we don’t see Mona Lisa sitting on a terrace. The painting was damaged by acid in 1956 and took several years to restore. Louvre has so far resisted pressure to restore the painting to its original colours.
Da Vinci came to France at the invitation of Fracois 1er, spent his last days here. He sold the painting to him where it toured the chateaus of Versailles, Fontainebleau and for a time, hung in Napoleon’s bedroom and finally came to Louvre. It was stolen on August 21, 1911 by an Italian painter Vincenzo Peruggia, who wanted to return it to the country of origin. But the picture was found in Italy about two years later. Earlier, in the 60’s and 70’s, it was taken to New York, Tokyo and Moscow, but now any journey has been ruled out!
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Catching Up
We had guests last week. The first ones this year. We get about 4 sets of visitors per year and we look forward to these visits especially if it happens to be a relative or a close friend like M. I had last met her 8 years back when she had just got engaged to AK. They were impossibly young, certainly too young, in my opinion to contemplate marriage. Back then, I too was a different person, energetic, ever enthusiastic, single, happy go lucky extrovert. Not this married, mature adult that I am now! (Little did I know how much I had changed).
It was in february that M had sent me an email about their forthcoming trip to paris in April and could they stay with us. AK had to attend a conference on Anesthelogy. One would imagine that two months would be sufficient to prepare one for guests and yet I found myself with a messy apartment and only 24 hours before my guests arrived. Before each visit, I go into a frenzy cleaning, wiping every possible surface. I wonder why I bother. The guests get about 2-3 minutes to take into the sparkling cleanliness before baggage and other paraphernalia takes over! However, it does give me a good excuse to de-clutter.
For two months, I have been counselling them on the finer points of visiting Paris, the seasoned Parisian that I am. And yet within minutes of their landing, they found that I had been wrong about quiet a few things. The last few days we were having marvellous sunshine and M had come prepared for mild spring weather. Instead they froze (especially their four year old T who had to be swathed in M’s clothes) while firstly we went round in circles on the wrong airport shuttle trying to locate our bus stop and then waiting for nearly an hour in the cold bus stop only to find out that the last bus had left at 9pm. We had to settle for a taxi who luckily did not kick up a fuss about 4 passengers plus 1 kid and even joked that A should sit behind with us and T should sit in front for a better fit. Within one hour, they not only froze but also were 63E lighter, thanks to me. And yes, we couldn’t pay our share (we did later), because a day earlier the ATM had swallowed A's card and I rang to have it blocked and managed to block my card as well.
Thank god, this happened after our Saturday marché otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to stock up on food and our guests (and us) would have to go hungry. Between the 2 of us, we had 15E enough to see us through till Monday when the banks reopened but we felt so uneasy, so vulnerable! For not for long. I suddenly did a "mother-saving-money-from-grocery-in-sugar pot-trick" and hey presto, found 90E in one of my several handbags! Phew!
I took them around on the first day so that they got used to the Metro and public transport system. And while I was at it, I took them to Notre dame, the Left bank, the boquinistes, eiffel tower etc. They loved everything and filmed and shot everything in sight. After having waxed eloquent about the beauty of Paris, I am afraid, I put up a very bad show. I was terribly impatient with them, shooing them like a crusty old nanny...not letting them linger in any one place for too long! (When you have been to each of these places at least 10 times, the novelty wears off). But I must say they took it in good humour. The next day onwards, they were on their own, leaving early each morning when I would anxiously ply them with do's and don’ts and returning late at night when they'd fill me on the nice people they met and who helped them out and had long conversations with. Ah bon? They even managed to hitch a ride from the station to our home...something we have never done, in fact never tried, sure to be turned down. OK that sort of hesitant “I-am-alien-out-here” behaviour is strictly mine to A's eternal disgust.
Earlier M had asked us about our social life/circle. Ooh we have loads of things to do...but it is limited to the two of us. What’s more, we two are extremely settled, content with our life and our routines and don’t miss having the wide friend circle we did previously! We explained how the language was a barrier etc. Didn’t seem to be a problem with M and AK. M of course consoled me by saying its easier to strike up a conversation when one has a baby in tow! OK, then that explains it. Once we have children, the whole world and his brother will be knocking at our doors!
The only thing I was correct about was one I didn’t feel any sort of pleasure in being correct about. I had asked M to not bring T along but to leave him behind with his grandparents. It would be too tiring, and totally uninteresting for him. True. Each morning, he would sadly ask M 'are we going to see more paintings?'! Poor thing. He would somehow drag himself in each night, but even then taking of his shoes and socks and clothes and putting them away neatly, while M would try to shove spoonful of food into his mouth.
The seven days simply whizzed by. And its only now that they flat is empty, I think about how nice it was having them here. How both of them grown up into mature adults, with two lovely kids. AK, no longer the shy medical student but a full-fledged doctor in the Indian Army. And me? As M and AK discovered (and indeed so did I with surprise and dismay) I was no longer the energetic, ever enthusiastic, single, happy go lucky extrovert I was back then. I had been replaced with this insular, hyper, nagging, person with a cleanliness mania!
It was in february that M had sent me an email about their forthcoming trip to paris in April and could they stay with us. AK had to attend a conference on Anesthelogy. One would imagine that two months would be sufficient to prepare one for guests and yet I found myself with a messy apartment and only 24 hours before my guests arrived. Before each visit, I go into a frenzy cleaning, wiping every possible surface. I wonder why I bother. The guests get about 2-3 minutes to take into the sparkling cleanliness before baggage and other paraphernalia takes over! However, it does give me a good excuse to de-clutter.
For two months, I have been counselling them on the finer points of visiting Paris, the seasoned Parisian that I am. And yet within minutes of their landing, they found that I had been wrong about quiet a few things. The last few days we were having marvellous sunshine and M had come prepared for mild spring weather. Instead they froze (especially their four year old T who had to be swathed in M’s clothes) while firstly we went round in circles on the wrong airport shuttle trying to locate our bus stop and then waiting for nearly an hour in the cold bus stop only to find out that the last bus had left at 9pm. We had to settle for a taxi who luckily did not kick up a fuss about 4 passengers plus 1 kid and even joked that A should sit behind with us and T should sit in front for a better fit. Within one hour, they not only froze but also were 63E lighter, thanks to me. And yes, we couldn’t pay our share (we did later), because a day earlier the ATM had swallowed A's card and I rang to have it blocked and managed to block my card as well.
Thank god, this happened after our Saturday marché otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to stock up on food and our guests (and us) would have to go hungry. Between the 2 of us, we had 15E enough to see us through till Monday when the banks reopened but we felt so uneasy, so vulnerable! For not for long. I suddenly did a "mother-saving-money-from-grocery-in-sugar pot-trick" and hey presto, found 90E in one of my several handbags! Phew!
I took them around on the first day so that they got used to the Metro and public transport system. And while I was at it, I took them to Notre dame, the Left bank, the boquinistes, eiffel tower etc. They loved everything and filmed and shot everything in sight. After having waxed eloquent about the beauty of Paris, I am afraid, I put up a very bad show. I was terribly impatient with them, shooing them like a crusty old nanny...not letting them linger in any one place for too long! (When you have been to each of these places at least 10 times, the novelty wears off). But I must say they took it in good humour. The next day onwards, they were on their own, leaving early each morning when I would anxiously ply them with do's and don’ts and returning late at night when they'd fill me on the nice people they met and who helped them out and had long conversations with. Ah bon? They even managed to hitch a ride from the station to our home...something we have never done, in fact never tried, sure to be turned down. OK that sort of hesitant “I-am-alien-out-here” behaviour is strictly mine to A's eternal disgust.
Earlier M had asked us about our social life/circle. Ooh we have loads of things to do...but it is limited to the two of us. What’s more, we two are extremely settled, content with our life and our routines and don’t miss having the wide friend circle we did previously! We explained how the language was a barrier etc. Didn’t seem to be a problem with M and AK. M of course consoled me by saying its easier to strike up a conversation when one has a baby in tow! OK, then that explains it. Once we have children, the whole world and his brother will be knocking at our doors!
The only thing I was correct about was one I didn’t feel any sort of pleasure in being correct about. I had asked M to not bring T along but to leave him behind with his grandparents. It would be too tiring, and totally uninteresting for him. True. Each morning, he would sadly ask M 'are we going to see more paintings?'! Poor thing. He would somehow drag himself in each night, but even then taking of his shoes and socks and clothes and putting them away neatly, while M would try to shove spoonful of food into his mouth.
The seven days simply whizzed by. And its only now that they flat is empty, I think about how nice it was having them here. How both of them grown up into mature adults, with two lovely kids. AK, no longer the shy medical student but a full-fledged doctor in the Indian Army. And me? As M and AK discovered (and indeed so did I with surprise and dismay) I was no longer the energetic, ever enthusiastic, single, happy go lucky extrovert I was back then. I had been replaced with this insular, hyper, nagging, person with a cleanliness mania!
Friday, April 16, 2004
Le printemps
Another lovely spring day. I have been watching the transformation with amazement. From the stark (but beautiful) winter, to the fresh new blossoming all around.
Sitting on my sofa, in winter, I could barely see the treetops, bare and brown through the windows in my apartment. One day, I thought the trees look taller and a softer newer brown. Then nodes appeared on the tips, these burst into small multicoloured leaves and then came the flowers. The leaves on trees grew a bit thicker each day and each morning I would find the bareness a little more covered. Now I can barely see the large diocese building behind them.
By the roadside, the big trees are putting on their clothing bit by bit. Some are already covered, others are half covered and a few still bare. Somehow all of the trees are looking so happy when at it! Like they are throwing their heads back and spreading their arms after a deep sleep!
And what colours. Am constantly surprised at the range of it. A small tree bursting with tight white blossoms. Another pink one. And what shades of green. I can’t get enough of it. I stroll down neighbours’ lawns gazing at them and yet taking care not to loiter! They are very private and I don’t think would kindly to a stranger staring. Day before yesterday, on a long walk I spied this marvellous house, a bit outside the town, standing all by itself. Surrounded by an amazing array of trees, all different shapes and colours. On second thoughts, the house itself was an ordinary one. But peeping out between those trees made it look wonderful. I caught myself thinking jealously about the lucky denizens of the house. A little later I passed a marvellous tiny garden outside a very nondescript house in a road filled with similar boring houses. But the owner had done wonders in that tiny place not more than 10 square feet. I had to pretend to tie my shoes laces to get a good look at it!!
So it is spring. And so what? The big deal is that I happened to spend my teenage in the deserts of the middle east and thereafter in Calcutta where perhaps a few stubborn trees still exist despite the best intentions otherwise of the pollution. And the fact that there is no spring over there. Summer and a mild winter! Not so, here.
I am making the most of it knowing that this change will not stop here. It will keep on and as spring gives way to summer, these will be replaced by the heavier greens of summer.
Meanwhile, I keep checking out the greenery, the neighbours lawns and gardens! I keep thinking that one day the people will get together and report this skulking foreigner, circling our houses and staring at our gardens!!
Sitting on my sofa, in winter, I could barely see the treetops, bare and brown through the windows in my apartment. One day, I thought the trees look taller and a softer newer brown. Then nodes appeared on the tips, these burst into small multicoloured leaves and then came the flowers. The leaves on trees grew a bit thicker each day and each morning I would find the bareness a little more covered. Now I can barely see the large diocese building behind them.
By the roadside, the big trees are putting on their clothing bit by bit. Some are already covered, others are half covered and a few still bare. Somehow all of the trees are looking so happy when at it! Like they are throwing their heads back and spreading their arms after a deep sleep!
And what colours. Am constantly surprised at the range of it. A small tree bursting with tight white blossoms. Another pink one. And what shades of green. I can’t get enough of it. I stroll down neighbours’ lawns gazing at them and yet taking care not to loiter! They are very private and I don’t think would kindly to a stranger staring. Day before yesterday, on a long walk I spied this marvellous house, a bit outside the town, standing all by itself. Surrounded by an amazing array of trees, all different shapes and colours. On second thoughts, the house itself was an ordinary one. But peeping out between those trees made it look wonderful. I caught myself thinking jealously about the lucky denizens of the house. A little later I passed a marvellous tiny garden outside a very nondescript house in a road filled with similar boring houses. But the owner had done wonders in that tiny place not more than 10 square feet. I had to pretend to tie my shoes laces to get a good look at it!!
So it is spring. And so what? The big deal is that I happened to spend my teenage in the deserts of the middle east and thereafter in Calcutta where perhaps a few stubborn trees still exist despite the best intentions otherwise of the pollution. And the fact that there is no spring over there. Summer and a mild winter! Not so, here.
I am making the most of it knowing that this change will not stop here. It will keep on and as spring gives way to summer, these will be replaced by the heavier greens of summer.
Meanwhile, I keep checking out the greenery, the neighbours lawns and gardens! I keep thinking that one day the people will get together and report this skulking foreigner, circling our houses and staring at our gardens!!
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Happy New Year!
The Bengali New Year 1411 begins today on the 1st day of the month of Boishak which falls somewhere between 13th and the 14th of the Gregorian calendar. It’s a day of mishtis, new clothes and general merry making! The day would typically start with phone calls to near and dear and Subho nabo barsho or the more formal shubho nobo barsher priti subhecha janai. Lots and lots of sweets. Bengalis and sweets are inseparable.
The shops open their new ‘Hal Khata’ (accounts) and every customer is treated to sweets. In fact, it is a tradition to go visit your friendly neighbour store to wish them and naturally, eat sweets! This tradition happily continues even today as confirmed by my mother despite the hot and humid weather. I had rung her up to wish her and she told me that she had gone to a jewellery store to pick up something and was treated to the traditional sweets and given the weather, ice cream!
New year is always a time for hope, a time for a new beginning (at least in the mind), new resolutions etc. Luckily for us, we get two chances each year! Those of us, who couldn’t keep their January 1st resolutions, can still renew them now or add new ones! The weather out here (in France) is just perfect. Everything is literally turning a new leaf, birds are chirping, mild weather, fluffy clouds and all that! Very new yearish!
Subho Naba barsha one and all!
The shops open their new ‘Hal Khata’ (accounts) and every customer is treated to sweets. In fact, it is a tradition to go visit your friendly neighbour store to wish them and naturally, eat sweets! This tradition happily continues even today as confirmed by my mother despite the hot and humid weather. I had rung her up to wish her and she told me that she had gone to a jewellery store to pick up something and was treated to the traditional sweets and given the weather, ice cream!
New year is always a time for hope, a time for a new beginning (at least in the mind), new resolutions etc. Luckily for us, we get two chances each year! Those of us, who couldn’t keep their January 1st resolutions, can still renew them now or add new ones! The weather out here (in France) is just perfect. Everything is literally turning a new leaf, birds are chirping, mild weather, fluffy clouds and all that! Very new yearish!
Subho Naba barsha one and all!
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Ever wonder about trams in Kolkata?
I was reading Nice guy Hemanth’s article Ever wonder about Trams in Madras. It had me wondering about trams in Kolkata where till recently, you could ride one. On my last trip in Dec 2003, I noted that most of the overhead tram cables were removed to make way for the mushrooming flyovers. The Kolkatans assure me that these flyovers are sorely needed and have helped to ease the traffic jams. And yet, I can’t help rueing the phasing out of one of the oldest tram lines in the world.
When I first came to Kolkata in 1988, the front bogey was 50paisa and the second one (called the second class) was 40 paisa and was a boon to the poor. It was not an uncommon sight to see the first bogey nearly empty while the second one bursting at the seams. And it was not the poor alone who profited. The elderly too preferred the stately progress of the trams and could avoid the perilous ascent and descent from a public bus. (The seasoned kolkatan is a champion of running ascent and descent. The buses don’t halt, only slow down fractionally)!
The trams had their share of problems. There were frequent power failures and technical problems with the old trams and often one would stop and others would pile up behind it and often blocking roads and adding to the general congestion.
But that was a small price to pay compared with the gains. They were possibly the only mode of public transport that didn’t add to the already dangerous levels of pollution in Kolkata (Scroll down to the bottom of the hyper linked pages for the alarming facts on air pollution in Kolkata). There was this Norwegian who would once a year, at his own expense, take out huge full-page ads in both the English language dailies The Statesman and The Telegraph requesting the state government not to remove the trams.
But its too late to think about that. What with the state government’s inability to implement the conversion of buses to natural gas, inept pollution control board, bad sewage system, I cannot imagine the state governments losing much sleep over the bad effects of the removal of the trams. The flyovers have altered the once familiar Kolkata landscape forever and the tram tracks are now over grown with grass. Very soon, all we will have are our recollections and photos as we huff and cough our way through the smog filled roads of Kolkata.
When I first came to Kolkata in 1988, the front bogey was 50paisa and the second one (called the second class) was 40 paisa and was a boon to the poor. It was not an uncommon sight to see the first bogey nearly empty while the second one bursting at the seams. And it was not the poor alone who profited. The elderly too preferred the stately progress of the trams and could avoid the perilous ascent and descent from a public bus. (The seasoned kolkatan is a champion of running ascent and descent. The buses don’t halt, only slow down fractionally)!
The trams had their share of problems. There were frequent power failures and technical problems with the old trams and often one would stop and others would pile up behind it and often blocking roads and adding to the general congestion.
But that was a small price to pay compared with the gains. They were possibly the only mode of public transport that didn’t add to the already dangerous levels of pollution in Kolkata (Scroll down to the bottom of the hyper linked pages for the alarming facts on air pollution in Kolkata). There was this Norwegian who would once a year, at his own expense, take out huge full-page ads in both the English language dailies The Statesman and The Telegraph requesting the state government not to remove the trams.
But its too late to think about that. What with the state government’s inability to implement the conversion of buses to natural gas, inept pollution control board, bad sewage system, I cannot imagine the state governments losing much sleep over the bad effects of the removal of the trams. The flyovers have altered the once familiar Kolkata landscape forever and the tram tracks are now over grown with grass. Very soon, all we will have are our recollections and photos as we huff and cough our way through the smog filled roads of Kolkata.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
The French Paradox
It refers to the paradox of the rich French cuisine and yet the slender build of the populace. You do have the occasional fat person but it’s not an epidemic like say in the USA. The secret it seems is in the tons of red wine that the French imbibe. (Actually the statistics note that on an average, the French drink less wine per person than they did couple of decades back).
A was thrilled to bits with this bit of information. He takes his food very, very seriously (I don’t mind it either). Unfortunately, his tastes run to fatty food, fries in every type of cuisine. (He insists that pork is not red meat). Each time I kicked up a fuss, he would point out that red wine would cut down on the cholesterol and fat intake. (Pulverise it down the toilet bowl that is). This has spiralled out of control.
We note down places by the meals we have taken there and not by famous landmarks! The restaurants are our guiding lights! Whenever we decide on a trip, just after we book our tickets, and before we check out places of interests in a guide book, A checks out restaurants not to be missed. On our weekend in Rome, we tried 5 different places (4 of them Italian) and the 5th or should I say the 1st was an all-american steak joint (A wanted to eat a juicy fat steak), hours after we landed in Rome. He however insists that it was me who ate so much that I had the waiters saluting me. When I say I didn’t notice that, he says obviously, you were busy stuffing your face!
Shortly afterwards, in Crete, we took a 3 hour bus trip to eat at Plaka, a tiny fishing village bustling in summer but a deserted town during our trip in December. We practically forced the elderly owners to open up and cook for us. But it was one of the best meals we have had.
Last year in August, in the middle of the heat wave, I developed blisters on the soles of my feet searching for all those must eat places, in Nice. I did however manage to squeeze in a city tour and the magnificent Matisse collection. We took a 2-hour boat ride to St.Tropez where we didn’t waste time or money on a boat ride to Bridget Bardot’s house like most tourists. We went in search of a restaurant rated three stars, which unfortunately was closed in the afternoon and open for dinner by when we had to return to Nice.
Even within France, we still talk about the gem of a restaurant we discovered in Fontainbleau. The Chateau and forests were very nice but thank god the restaurant we chose at random had a fabulous menu. Oh the sinful tarte aux pommes. I shall remember it to my dying day. And the ‘rhubarb quiche’ at the café in Musée d’Orsay. (Of course the impressionist collection had me impressed too). A swears that we have to go back to Provins because we didn’t eat at any of the auberges on our last trip which was a picnic with his French class students. The list is endless…but I guess you get the picture.
The French themselves are quite amused by this “French paradox” theory and pooh-pooh it away and claim (and probably correctly), “Eat sensibly”! Which is what we should do since the weighing scales do not lie! The French paradox is not working for us. Perhaps it works only for the French!!
A was thrilled to bits with this bit of information. He takes his food very, very seriously (I don’t mind it either). Unfortunately, his tastes run to fatty food, fries in every type of cuisine. (He insists that pork is not red meat). Each time I kicked up a fuss, he would point out that red wine would cut down on the cholesterol and fat intake. (Pulverise it down the toilet bowl that is). This has spiralled out of control.
We note down places by the meals we have taken there and not by famous landmarks! The restaurants are our guiding lights! Whenever we decide on a trip, just after we book our tickets, and before we check out places of interests in a guide book, A checks out restaurants not to be missed. On our weekend in Rome, we tried 5 different places (4 of them Italian) and the 5th or should I say the 1st was an all-american steak joint (A wanted to eat a juicy fat steak), hours after we landed in Rome. He however insists that it was me who ate so much that I had the waiters saluting me. When I say I didn’t notice that, he says obviously, you were busy stuffing your face!
Shortly afterwards, in Crete, we took a 3 hour bus trip to eat at Plaka, a tiny fishing village bustling in summer but a deserted town during our trip in December. We practically forced the elderly owners to open up and cook for us. But it was one of the best meals we have had.
Last year in August, in the middle of the heat wave, I developed blisters on the soles of my feet searching for all those must eat places, in Nice. I did however manage to squeeze in a city tour and the magnificent Matisse collection. We took a 2-hour boat ride to St.Tropez where we didn’t waste time or money on a boat ride to Bridget Bardot’s house like most tourists. We went in search of a restaurant rated three stars, which unfortunately was closed in the afternoon and open for dinner by when we had to return to Nice.
Even within France, we still talk about the gem of a restaurant we discovered in Fontainbleau. The Chateau and forests were very nice but thank god the restaurant we chose at random had a fabulous menu. Oh the sinful tarte aux pommes. I shall remember it to my dying day. And the ‘rhubarb quiche’ at the café in Musée d’Orsay. (Of course the impressionist collection had me impressed too). A swears that we have to go back to Provins because we didn’t eat at any of the auberges on our last trip which was a picnic with his French class students. The list is endless…but I guess you get the picture.
The French themselves are quite amused by this “French paradox” theory and pooh-pooh it away and claim (and probably correctly), “Eat sensibly”! Which is what we should do since the weighing scales do not lie! The French paradox is not working for us. Perhaps it works only for the French!!
Monday, April 05, 2004
Gentleman Cambrioleur (Burglar)
Arsène Lupin, the french contemporary of Sherlock Holmes (but of different genre) was known by this epithet. The stylish, extremely rich and refined gentleman mingled with high society and robbed them and helped the poor. On my way to Paris on saturday, I was suddenly reminded of him or rather 'gentleman cambrioleur'.
It happened just after I got into a crowded metro at Gare De l'est. A tall young chap was standing with a large suitcase between his knees, blocking most of the entrance. The compartment itself has standing room only and barely at that. Just as the doors began to close, I heard a woman shout out 'No, No' in a brit accent. Startled, we looked around to see a fat lady prise open the door and lunge out and immediately the tall young chap who had been standing at the door (and had obviously gotten out before the doors shut) turn around and calmly hand her wallet back to her and walk away. She grabbed and lunged back in again. This whole thing must have taken seconds since the automatic doors had already started closing and one can only hold it up for only so much time. The doors shut for a second time and the train rolled on. The tourist shook her head and people raised eyebrows and shot slanting smiles at each other!! Near Miss for both of them. Phew!!
It happened just after I got into a crowded metro at Gare De l'est. A tall young chap was standing with a large suitcase between his knees, blocking most of the entrance. The compartment itself has standing room only and barely at that. Just as the doors began to close, I heard a woman shout out 'No, No' in a brit accent. Startled, we looked around to see a fat lady prise open the door and lunge out and immediately the tall young chap who had been standing at the door (and had obviously gotten out before the doors shut) turn around and calmly hand her wallet back to her and walk away. She grabbed and lunged back in again. This whole thing must have taken seconds since the automatic doors had already started closing and one can only hold it up for only so much time. The doors shut for a second time and the train rolled on. The tourist shook her head and people raised eyebrows and shot slanting smiles at each other!! Near Miss for both of them. Phew!!
Saturday, April 03, 2004
A very private matter
Spring is here. It is unbelievably idyllic. The sky is Blue dotted with puffy white clouds. The grass is Green. Warm yellow sunshine bounces off the red tiled roofs and highlights the green and yellow mosaic pattern atop the cathedral. The neighbours' fat cat (it is enormously fat) stretches lazily on their lawn. Pigeons flutter and coo, birds chirp and I guess one could even hear buds opening.
And yet, I can’t stand at the window and soak it all up. The woman in the downstairs apartment, quickly downs her shutters seeing me at my window. Quite ridiculous this since she has placed a row of plants on her window sill and the shutter is down up to the plants anyhow. What could I possibly see from across the yard and two flights up? Nevertheless, she downs the shutters couple of inches more. The lady who popped her head out of the attic windows pops down again as she catches my eyes. The old man pottering about in his garden, looks up at me quizzically as if to say ‘what are you staring at?’ Guiltily, I turn away.
Yesterday, I heard loud and angry shouts coming out of the attic window and I popped my head out to see what it was all about. Sounded really serious. I couldn’t see anyone. I turn the other way and see the old man gardener staring at me-staring-at the attic windows. Eeps. I felt like a peeping Tom!
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There is this amazing ‘privacy’ thing here in France. You can't stand at your window without someone pulling the curtains, downing shutters, slamming doors. You can't make eye contact with anyone on public transport…which is okay by me really. But, if you find yourself in the doctor's chambers, other patients will wish Bonjour and Au revoir while entering and exiting. Not to you, but generally, let it hang in the air! They will open doors for you and thankyou if you do the same. They will stop their cars for pedestrians and smile when you say merci. But you cant stand at your window and look out. It’s the same in metros. If your arms are full, someone or the other will open the door for you, people in the side seats politely stand up to make room during rush hours. But they will not talk or make eye contact with anyone. They read, look up at the celing or look down, anywhere but make eye contact.
Sometime back, A and I had gone for a weekend to Rome. The minute I stepped off the plane, I fell in love with Rome. It was enchanting. Rome, eternal city. With millennia of history, the colosseum, the pastel coloured buildings, the classical architechture….I could go on about why I love Rome. But A things the only reason I find rome so enchanting is that it is a noisy chaotic place and the Italians are a voluble lot! Perhaps! I miss all the noise and chaos amid all these symmetry and orderliness quietness!!
And yet, I can’t stand at the window and soak it all up. The woman in the downstairs apartment, quickly downs her shutters seeing me at my window. Quite ridiculous this since she has placed a row of plants on her window sill and the shutter is down up to the plants anyhow. What could I possibly see from across the yard and two flights up? Nevertheless, she downs the shutters couple of inches more. The lady who popped her head out of the attic windows pops down again as she catches my eyes. The old man pottering about in his garden, looks up at me quizzically as if to say ‘what are you staring at?’ Guiltily, I turn away.
Yesterday, I heard loud and angry shouts coming out of the attic window and I popped my head out to see what it was all about. Sounded really serious. I couldn’t see anyone. I turn the other way and see the old man gardener staring at me-staring-at the attic windows. Eeps. I felt like a peeping Tom!
********
There is this amazing ‘privacy’ thing here in France. You can't stand at your window without someone pulling the curtains, downing shutters, slamming doors. You can't make eye contact with anyone on public transport…which is okay by me really. But, if you find yourself in the doctor's chambers, other patients will wish Bonjour and Au revoir while entering and exiting. Not to you, but generally, let it hang in the air! They will open doors for you and thankyou if you do the same. They will stop their cars for pedestrians and smile when you say merci. But you cant stand at your window and look out. It’s the same in metros. If your arms are full, someone or the other will open the door for you, people in the side seats politely stand up to make room during rush hours. But they will not talk or make eye contact with anyone. They read, look up at the celing or look down, anywhere but make eye contact.
Sometime back, A and I had gone for a weekend to Rome. The minute I stepped off the plane, I fell in love with Rome. It was enchanting. Rome, eternal city. With millennia of history, the colosseum, the pastel coloured buildings, the classical architechture….I could go on about why I love Rome. But A things the only reason I find rome so enchanting is that it is a noisy chaotic place and the Italians are a voluble lot! Perhaps! I miss all the noise and chaos amid all these symmetry and orderliness quietness!!
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