Vendanges!

Linguists know you can learn a lot about a culture by seeing what concepts rate a specific word in one language but not in another. One such French word is “vendanges”, or “harvesting the grapes used to make wine”. “Vendanges” is the harvest itself and also the grape which is harvested. It is usually used in the plural. There are also two verb forms – “faire les vendanges” ,used more often by the workers who do the labor, and “vendanger”, used by the owner of the vineyard.
During the French Revolution, when the Gregorian Calendar was replaced by the Republican Calendar for fourteen years, the first month (running from approximately Sept 22nd to Oct 21st) was called Vendémiaire,
“Les vendanges” is an intense period varying, according to the region and the warmth of late summer, from the end of August to the middle of October. Each region harvests in about two weeks, so lots of extra workers are needed. It is a popular end-of-summer job for students – backbreaking work during the day and fun in the evening. In recent years, the unemployment offices have posted “vendanges” jobs for people waiting for those job interviews to materialize.
Years ago, I participated in a private “vendanges” The small vineyard had been a hobby of Marc’s dad while he and his wife raised their 6 children who were handy “vendangeurs” each year. But by 1982 the children were grown up and scattered around France. They gathered for one last "vendanges" and I was invited. It rained the whole weekend but I still remember the fun we had.






Nowadays, my “vendang”-ing”is limited to Montmartre.
In 1930, as a protest against the proposed construction of an apartment building, the citizens of Montmartre (yes, of course, it’s been part of Paris since 1860 but has never fully accepted that) decided to plant a new vineyard on the site.


This, officially, was in honor of past vineyards in the area from the Middle Ages until that fatal 19th century year of 1860. Today the vineyard is lovingly tended by the gardeners of the Parks and Gardens of Paris and produces about 500 bottles of, apparently, appallingly bad wine that is sold at auction for charity.


And, after the "vendanges", a 5 day Festival delights Parisians and tourists alike.
This year's Festival was held from October 7th to 11th. There was much singing, dancing; eating, drinking, art, conversation, story telling,




and, on Saturday afternoon, the Big Parade -- followed that evening by fireworks. It almost rained but it didn’t and much fun was had by all.








Wish you could have been there, too. Maybe next year.

Cultural All-Nighter

Bertrand Delanoë was elected Mayor of Paris in 2001. The first “Nuit Blanche”, (All-Nighter), in 2002, was his creation. Its purpose was
•To make art accessible to all
•To use the urban landscape as a showcase for modern art
•To create a fun, shared experience
This event could also have been his last since, on the first "Nuit Blanche", he was stabbed in the stomach by a man whose explanation to the police was: “I don’t like politicians and I don’t like gays”. (M Delanoë is both.)
I remember this every year in the fall and am glad that both the Mayor and his creation continue to thrive.
What is the "Nuit Blanche"? Ephemeral works of modern art are installed in and around churches, gardens and public buildings for people to visit from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. on the first Saturday in October. It’s edgy; it moves most of us out of our comfort zone; it’s a lot of fun.
This year we began at the St Roch Church -- not too far from Place de la Concorde. We were invited to stroll in the dimly lit church and listen. Thirteen loudspeakers picked up the ambient sound. When we were there, the evening Mass was being said in a chapel behind the main altar. The murmur of prayers and the priest’s voice was a gentle way to start our edgy evening.



Then, off to St Eustache, near the old Market area of Paris. We were welcomed by the parish priest – though in the dim light, my friend didn’t realize who he was and opened her bag for security inspection. I don’t know which of them was more startled! Inside, we were engulfed by the sound of a 17th century “Miserere”, while a giant screen over the altar projected, in slow motion, film of passengers coming out of the international arrivals area of a British airport. The work is called “Threshold to the Kingdom”. Our minds knew the situation was stressful; the slow motion and the music made it almost restful.


Dinner break and then off to City Hall. Outside, a giant screen, usually used to project sporting events to the masses, showed us film of Kimsooja, a Korean artist, standing immobile on the Champs Elysées while preoccupied people surged around her. You can see from my photos, not all the pre-occupied people were on film.




As we wove through the throng on the Pont Saint Louis, we had time to decide whether we preferred the Samsung-sponsored lighting experience


or the more traditional one.


Our destination was the Collège des Bernardins -- built in the 13th century as a university for monks and now a cultural center for all. Well, those who were willing to wait in line anyway.


Perhaps we’d have more luck about a mile away at the Saint Severin Church. It was fun wandering through the increasingly crowded streets. It was not fun seeing the “one-hour wait" sign for the "Forty Part Motet" inside. We contented ourselves with the enthusiasm of a friend we met coming out. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself.
“Time to go home,” I decided and said goodbye to my friends as they went off to seek other cultural adventures. As I strolled along by the Seine, I thought,”
•art accessible to all -- check
•using the urban landscape as a showcase for modern art -- check
•a fun, shared experience –- double-check!”
Thank you , Monsieur Delanoë, for a wonderful evening.

Journées du Patrimoine

How did it get to be October? I haven’t finished telling you about September yet! As has been true since 1984, on the third weekend of September the "Journées du Patrimoine" (Heritage Days) took place and we had beautiful weather for them. This event started out modestly in Paris. On the third Sunday of September various government buildings, normally closed to the general public, were open for free tours. Gradually, the notion of heritage broadened. Scientific, industrial and cultural sites were included. By 1992 the event took place on both weekend days all over France and, indeed, all over Europe as the years passed. I have stood in line for hours to see some of the major sites but, now, I choose one or two smaller places to visit each year. I always learn something and have a good time.
This year, I read that the Moulin Rouge would open for the first time for a behind- the-scenes visit in honor of its 120th birthday. (I did mention that the notion of Heritage had expanded somewhat during the last 26 years!) Small groups would be taken through from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. – first come first served. Why not go? I had dinner with a friend Saturday evening. When I mentioned my plans, she advised me to get there early. She had arrived at 9:30 that morning and quickly realized she didn’t have a chance. I set the alarm and stepped out of the metro at 8:15 a.m. to see


A passing street-cleaner said that the first people had arrived at 6:30. Hopefully, I joined the line.
Parisians are not as inclined as Americans to start conversations with strangers but, at an event like this, the fun of sharing experiences overcomes the desire for privacy. I was soon chatting happily with the people around me. We talked of "Journées du Patrimoine" past and present and tried to estimate our chances of seeing the Moulin Rouge. People swarmed in behind us; cars and tourist buses grew more numerous; the line inched forward as the visits started. The lady next to me called her husband and cancelled their lunch plans. Finally, about 3 hours later, I decided to call it quits. I wished my companions good luck and walked away. As I tried to estimate the crowd between them and the entrance, I had my doubts that they’d get in. At least we’d all have a story to tell.
Fortunately, I’d made a reservation for my afternoon visit. There is a small museum not far from where I live– le musée de la vie romantique. During the Romantic period (early 19th century) the building that houses this museum was the home and atelier of the painter Ary Scheffer. Although born in Holland, Scheffer spent most of his life in Paris. The museum contains memorabilia of Scheffer and Georges Sand. That afternoon, it was the meeting point for a walking tour.

Musée de la vie romantique


It’s hard to believe now, amid all the apartments, shops and cars, but, during the early 19th century, this neighborhood was on the outskirts of Paris. The area was filled with pigs, fields and orchards, gradually replaced by cabarets and houses of ill-repute (it is very near Pigalle). About 1830, a group of young artists, writers, musicians and actors adopted it as their In Place and it acquired the name ”la Nouvelle Athènes” (New Athens). Our guide took us through perfectly ordinary-looking streets pointing out where Delacroix had his first studio, and where George Sand, Chopin, Liszt, Renoir and others lived.
She took us to see an Art Deco mosaic about a block away from the home of the president of my choir.



Created for a brothel, it now decorates an august private Billiards Club.
My favorite part of the tour was towards the end. We walked up to a building I knew well.
Our guide explained that it was the first Paris mansion of the Marquise de Païva, born Esther Lachmann in Moscow and one of Paris’s most famous 19th century courtesans. Why do I know this building? It is now the offices of the Aid to Families Agency which, among many other functions, runs the Association through which I go to read stories to pre-schoolers. Whoever said history was boring?
Paëva's mansion

I returned home hot, thirsty and tired -- and amazed at all that had happened just a neighborhood -- and a hundred and fifty years -- away.