DoubleLife: 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