Paris 25 June 2016

We started our expedition by climbing down into the bowels of the City, level -5, where the RER trains run. We were headed out to Saint-Germain-en-Laye, birthplace and one-time home of Louis XIV, but nowadays the for-now home of our dear friends Mike and Janice Whitacre. Sadly, Janice is in the US and evaded our hugs, but not Mike!

Once upon a time, Les Halles was the nexus for produce in Paris. It was an ugly old building no one loved very much, and when ripping it down and replacing it with this strange shopping center was first discussed, the usual resistance was half-hearted. A decade later, beaucoup delays and cost-over-runs, it's beginning to shape up ... but nobody loves it yet. I might says it's interesting, but beautiful it ain't.

The first hurdle -- for many riders, literally -- are the gates. Since we're law-abiding and approve of public transit, we bought tickets out to Saint-Germain at the end of the RER A1 line. After the gates, down another set of stairs to the waiting area...

Along the way we saw this billboard, "Everything I Love is in Babel" -- I think that's a store, not Babylon. Some thoughtful soul has added the following interesting notation, "Eradicate Racism on Earth." Good sentiment, especially in the wake of the UK's initiation of its divorce from the European Union because of closeted racism reacting to semi-uncontrolled immigration. (Someone else has added, but unfortunately not visible to the camera's eye, "In the Universe also," and has illustrated this with a flying saucer. This, most likely, is an ironic French equivalent to, "Like, as soon as pigs can fly.") Pregnant subject to which we will return anon, but not today.

Mike met us at the gates to the Chateau where Louis XIV lived while he was building Versailles.

We walked out to the edge of the parterre that extends along the top of the rise above the Seine for a couple of kilometers, and that connects to a gorgeous old-growth national forest that's been preserved since Louis's time. You can see its trees in the background of the image above left.

The building behind Mike and Rochelle, at right, now an expensive boutique hotel, is where L14 was born. The chateau and garden are beautifully maintained -- I hope if we had something this lovely, we'd maintain it too. The formal garden gets trimmed to within an inch of its life every Fall. The Chateau now hosts the Museum of National Antiquities, including the oldest known sculpture, some 20,000 years old.

You can see Paris from here, through a pall of smog even on a windy day like today. The metropolitan French influence is surely present and palpable here, but it's easy to see why the Kings removed themselves from the Center – here, and at Versailles – and expected the powers to come to them. Not much has changed. It's nicer here.

Mike took us into the national forest along a path favored by Janice – the least we could do in her absence. Mike says that he has encountered wild pigs on his early morning walks. We saw no pigs, but lots of beautiful iridescent purple scarabs having mixed results crossing the well-used path.

Like every other park or preserve, the nicest houses run along the edges of the forest, and have their own private, special accesses. 25 minutes from Paris, and this in your back yard: not bad at all. 

I have already made observations about French regimentation, and what governs "how we eat" also has manifestations in "how we house." Even these lovely mansions beside the forest comply in some ways with the patterns of French house buildings ... but in the tighter confines of the center of town, the patterns are more obvious.

Bourgeois French homes, most of them built in the 19th Century or before, seem to comply with a standard. Modest homes can be as small as 3 windows wide and one story. Then we have 3 windows by 2 stories, and even 3 by 3 ...and then we escalate to 4 by 2, 4 by 3... Here, in this row of well-to-do burgers we see a 3 by 3, a 4 by 2, and a 3 by 3 with, most likely, a bigger attic, suitable perhaps for the servants. The floor plan is also probably fairly rigid. There are instances of a 2 by 2 having an added first floor, perhaps when another child was born, or a kitchen added. Worth noting: bourgeoise is not the pejorative here it is in the US: it just means "city dweller."

Mike notes that aside from the number of windows on display, the French are reluctant, as compared for example to Los Angelenos, to flaunt their wealth. The truly wealthy surround their homes with tall gated fences, and park their Ferraris inside the gate.

On our way from woods to home, Mike's colleague Cecille appeared, and we prevailed upon her to take our picture. Merci, Cecille!

Janice and Mike live in the carriage house behind us, associated with one of these gated homes; the actual home has been renovated into apartments and is home to three families. Mike notes that the whole thrust of French education and social policy is to level, to tend toward egalité, although, of course, they still have their 2%. Mike and Janice's little jewel box feels a lot like a boat: everything in its place. Below I have put together a little summary of life in Saint-Germain-en-Laye that shows that even in a little less than 500 square feet, a couple can live very comfortably.

The carriage house was most likely built at the beginning of the 18th Century, and the spiral staircase -- "People were smaller then," explains Mike -- is probably original.

We stopped by what Mike described as the best chocolate shop in the world, and he insisted on sending me home with samples. I am looking forward to tasting them. "Don't let them get hot," Mike advised. Like all good chocolate, heat is the enemy of quality. 

And then there was lunch, and the Ballon Rouge, a favorite of Janice's, where our kindly hostess told us the menu -- they offer only five items, two specialties and one special of the day. Mike and I each had the steak tartare with perfectly roasted new potatoes and a lovely salad; Rochelle went with the special, salmon salad. Mike and I had glasses of lovely rosé, and we finished lunch off with a café gourmand, a dessert sample (tiny little peach crunch, tiny brownie, a gorgeous little almond cake, and a strawberry soup, oh my!) that we gobbled before we remembered the picture, plus the usual espresso. 

After lunch we walked back to Janice and Mike's, sipped tea, and talked story. We haven't seen Mike for 14 years ... much too long. But life is funny, years fly by, and then friendships are miraculously, seamlessly renewed. We resolved not to let 14 more years go by before we gather again. Really, guys, let's do this again in a year or two at most.

Mike walked us back to the RER station past the church where James II of England is buried, having died, as it says, in exile in the Chateau. Already ticketed -- we got retours when we bought our allers -- we were through the gates in a trice. The train awaited. We stepped on, and before we were seated the doors closed and we were on our way home ... or at least, that's what we thought.

But, strange travel instructions are dancing lessons from God, and She had a different plan for us, and the other 80,000 or so folks on the RER A line at 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon:

"In response to security measures at La Defense, traffic is interrupted between Charles De Gaulle Etoile and Nanterre Prefecture. Resumption of traffic is estimated at 5:30. Thank you for your understanding."

At Nanterre Prefecture, we were unceremoniously evicted from our train ... as were the folks on the next four trains. After awhile, the above explanation. Lots of cell-phoning and scurrying around. Consistently, a train would pull in, the doors would open, the folks bound for Nanterre Prefecture would exit, everyone on the platform would pile on ...and then the loudspeaker would say (in French) "Mumph wumph wruggle flong, waggly orgule muckly which, s'il vous plaît." Or something like that. About half the people understood the garbled PA announcement, but eventually everyone would get off the train, and the train would go back the wrong way. To be repeated five times.

At a couple of minutes before 5:30, a train pulled in, and 99% of the remaining crowd climbed aboard. We let that train go, and caught the next one, five minutes later, and completed our trip in uncrowded comfort.