Ottawa

Certes, Ottawa n'est pas la destination idéale pour vos petits we estivaux. Mais de toute façon, l'été n'est pas fait pour les petits we (le printemps est fait pour cela), mais pour les grands voyages (encore faut-il avoir des vacances -donc convaincre son boss- et des finances en bon état -convaincre le service des impôts, beaucoup plus difficile-).

Capitale du Canada (et non, ce n'est pas un fait acquis pour tout le monde!), Ottawa est en Ontario (donc dans la partie anglophone du Canada), mais est à la frontière du Québec. Donc, oui, tout est est écrit en double langue, et la plupart des gens parlent français, mais non, vous ne comprendrez pas quand ils parlent, parce que c'est du québécois.

Je suis loin d'être une experte, mais Ottawa est une ville totalement québécoise au contraire de villes canadiennes telles que Toronto par exemple, totalement américanisées. Remplie d'espaces verts (ah, courir le long du canal Rideau à 6H30 du matin, ça c'est totalement américain!), pleine de charme, Ottawa ressemble paraît-il à Montréal. Comme j'ai eu la chance de visiter Montréal en plein mois de février par -10°, disons que le charme de Montréal ne m'a pas impressionné, mais que c'est sûrement vrai.

A visiter donc, le Parlement, le Byward market, composé d'une multitude de stands de produits frais, artisanaux et typiques (le mapple syrup, en veux-tu, en voilà!), et les musées à gogo. Le mieux est encore de se balader dans la ville et de s'imprégner de l'atmosphère de la ville.

La spécialité à essayer: les Beaver tails (ou queues de castor), qui ressemble aux chouchoux que l'on vous vend sur les plages de la Côte d'Azur, en quatre fois plus grand et en plus plat. C'est très très sucré, contient probablement la dose d'huile annuelle recommandée, bref, c'est l'influence américaine qui ressort.

J'aurais aussi dû aussi goûter à la poutine, autre spécialité locale (je n'ai toujours pas très bien compris à quoi cela ressemblait, mais le nom ne m'inspire pas confiance), mais il faut toujours laisser derrière soi quelque chose à faire afin de revenir....

Enfin, de l'autre côté du pont, se trouve d'une part le Québec, et surtout le Parc de Gatineau, immense parc naturel, qui offre de nombreux kilomètres de randonnées. Un passage obligé, d'une part parce que c'est superbe, et d'autre part, parce qu'après la Beaver Tail, il faut définivement faire un peu de sport.

Famille, quand tu nous tiens

On m'avait parlé du film avant de me parler du livre. Sauf qu'en Fance, je n'ai jamais entendu parlé du film, qui a pourtant un casting passablement connu...

Dans la lignée de Wisconsin, l'auteur présente également un drame familial (et non, je n'ai pas de problèmes familiaux en ce moment), prenant place en 1964, soit une année également houleuse puisque c'est l'année permettant le vote des Afro-Américains. Là encore, c'est une Amérique rurale qu'on découvre, puisque l'histoire se passe en Caroline du Sud.

Mêmes ingrédients, même ligne directrice, même plaisir, sauf que j'ai trouvé The Secret life of bees un tantinet naïf. Je sais que je ne suis pas très sensible, mais je ne peux pas dire que l'histoire m'ait tiré les larmes des yeux, et poutant je soupçonne que c'était l'intention de l'auteur, Sue Monk Kidd.

Peut-être avais-je rêvé

Il me semblait avoir lu monts et merveilles de Wisconsin par L. etP. mais encore une fois, je devais être à côté de la plaque... Cela là dit, ce fut un mal pour un bien car le livre est un bon roman.

Prenant place dans le Wisconsin à l'époque de la guerre du Vietnam, l'auteur prend pour sujet la famille. Vaste thème: le couple, les enfants, les déceptions, les disfonctionnements, les abus, la fraternité. L'intérêt de ces sujets, c'est que tout lecteur s'y retrouve, et Mary R. Ellis touche une corde sensible en chacun de nous.

Le contexte historique participe également à l'intérêt du roman, en nous faisant (re)découvrir une Amérique rurale en une période houleuse marquée par une guerre particulièrement critiquée et cause à de nombreuses réactions contradictoires.

Une bonne lecture, donc!

When Victoria was young

Occasionally, I’ll succumb to the charms of a historical novel or movie and be swept away to some distant period or land. What better way than to brush up on history especially if its well written or in the case of a movie, well made. Remember Gladiator? Or even Elizabeth? These two were as gripping as any contemporary movie.

Recently, I treated myself to the Young Victoria. Starring Emily Blunt as the young Queen Victoria and Rupert Friend as Prince Albert, and Paul Bettany as Lord Melbourne, the movie tells the story of how Victoria comes to assume power upon reaching eighteen years of age. Inevitably she has to deal with those who would control the throne through her. While this movie may lack the power and drama of Elizabeth, it is nonetheless a light hearted and enjoyable movie. It is quite charming and spirited. It helps that both leads are quite good-looking. I also enjoyed watching a period of Queen Victoria's reign which hasn't really been the subject of as much movies or literature as her later years of reign. I mean, when you say Queen Victoria, you have an image of her in her dowager years dressed all in mourning clothes. It was nice to see her albeit through a movie, as a young royal. Perhaps its greatest strength as a movie is the portrayal of the burgeoning love between Alfred and Victoria. I came away quite liking Emily Blunt, but then again, she’s living up to the potential she showed in The Devil Wears Prada. Another good reason to watch the movie is to see Paul Bettany showing off considerable charm as the less than honest politician Lord Melbourne. I do wish, he would make more movies. Last time I saw him was The Secret Life of Bees. Its really too long in between his movies!

When in August

I can't tell you how many people have come up to me (during the course of work)to ask why everything around seems to be closed and quiet. And I find myself explaining that in August, most Parisians have gone off for the month for holidays. I think in the 4th arrondissement where we live, a good 85% of the people are away. It never fails to amaze me how institutionalized vacation time is for the French people. As soon as spring-like weather appear, vacation becomes uppermost in most people's minds and it increasingly becomes the only topic of conversation in the months leading up to summer. Where you're going? How long? And if you're one of the few (like us) who are obliged to stay the summer, you get a mix of pitying or horror filled looks that you haven't the chance to leave for some sunny destination where the most pressing decision becomes whether to swim in the pool or in the ocean.

So my neighborhood shops are closed, or have different hours. As are most restaurants except the most hardy ones. Even my florist has decided to leave. See photo below...
That said, there's much to be said for visiting the city at this time of the year. The city takes on a much more relaxed atmosphere and the people who do stay behind are less stressed and as a consequence, are more pleasant to be around. Traffic is at its minimum and things are decidedly more low-key. Going to the grocery becomes less of a chore as there are less lines and it takes considerably less time to go about your business.

And I shouldn't forget that this summer has been a real summer. The sun is out almost everyday; blue blue skies with not a cloud in the sky. Ice cream becomes an everyday treat and the city more personable and in a way more accessible. All in all, I can't complain of my August in Paris

Let your inner tiger out!

Despite the blistering heat that the whole country seems to be experiencing, all the stores now feature clothes for the coming fall season. A bit early but I guess that’s the way fashion works. Your appetite for all things new, fashion –wise at least, is whetted months in advance of the actual season. Anticipation builds till finally, you find that you can’t really live without that new pair of shoes or that new coat. And while, I’ve never written anything so fashion related, I couldn’t help myself after this late afternoon’s jaunt at Le Bon Marche.

This fall, there seems to be an awful lot of animal prints. Now, I realize that this trend is not new and has been a wardrobe staple since man first dressed himself in furs but I have to confess that I’ve never been a particular fan. It just never seemed to be me, who has an inordinate love for all things pink. Well I don’t know what happened but for some reason this fall’s animal print clothes seemed inordinately chic and wearable even for me. Maybe its because I’m at an age where I can now appreciate its charm or maybe its because I live in Paris, but for whatever reason, I found some of the new fall fashion totally rocking my boat.

Animal prints as interpreted by Isabel Marant for fall..

Cool leopard coat from the Sonia Rykiel Fall 2009 collection
If its too much all at once,why not start with a zebra print belt to jazz up the basic black dress that never goes out of style?
Or loop a bright red animal print scarf by current fashion favorite Christopher Kane....
I love this Temperley dress!
Or why not, a DVF blouse in fuschia pink? Told you, I loved pink!
And finally, shoes!!! Relatively sober ones from Tory Burch

And the most va-va voom of them all...booties from Christian Louboutin!

A day spent by the seaside

One fine sunny day early this summer, we had a hankering for some fresh sea air and while we were at it, some seafood.  And as this was a good opportunity to go out of the city, we decided to visit the seaside town of Deauville.   It is quite a popular town ever since its founding 1861 by the Duke of Morny.     My first impression was that of a rather wealthy town packed with exclusive stores that aren’t out of place in the upscale shopping areas of Paris.  Clearly shopping is on top of the agenda for visitors.  That said, shopping is not the only draw to Deauville. The town also hosts its own film festival in September, not to mention horse races in July, August and October.

And of course, let’s not forget the beach.  To see and be seen, the place to be is the Promenade des Planches, a 643 m-long boardwalk lined with cabins named after famous Americans (okay, most of the names are those of film stars).  If the beach is not your thing, there is an Olympic sized swimming pool where you can indulge in as many laps as you wish.

Of course, the point of our day being the fresh seafood, we settled on one of the restaurants along the Promenade.  Nothing fancy but they all exuded a friendly ambiance and the people seemed quite happy with their food. We settled quite happily for one called Le Bar du Soleil and our choice proved to be the right one.  Each of us ordered heaping seafood platters and our poor table was overwhelmed when they did arrived.  Our lunch consisted of piles of little sea snails, lots of rosy pink shrimps that were succulent and fresh as well as crab, plump and resplendent in its shell and everything washed down with a cool rose wine.  The fresh ocean breeze and golden sunlight provided a marvelous accompaniment to our repast and we were stuffed to the hilt when we finished.

It was certainly a group of happy campers that made their way back to Paris after that afternoon spent by the seaside.

On the Road

The Road, On the Road, même combat: il faut vraiment que je sois particulièrement butée (et je le suis) pour finir ces deux "chefs d'oeuvre". Je crois que je vais arrêter de lire les livres qui comportent le mot "road" dans leur titre.

Considéré comme LA référence par tous les aventuriers et cité de nombreuses fois comme une inspiration (ok, les dernières personnes l'ayant déclaré comme livre de chevet sont les personnages principaux de la série The O.C., donc pas une référence, mais je sais qu'il y a mieux!), On the Road est le récit des road-trips de l'auteur dans les années 50.

Figure centrale de la Beat Generation, Jack Kerouac incarne, notamment avec William Burroughs, l'esprit libre de cette génération n'aspirant qu'à vivre à fons la vie, et par conséquent libéré de toutes contraintes.

Si je comprends la volonté de rejeter tous les carcans finalement superficiels que nous impose la société, notamment comme dans Into the Wild, j'ai beaucoup plus de mal à comprendre des errances sans buts et sans résultats. Je savais que je n'étais pas fun, mais 270 pages de récits de beuveries, coucheries et vagabondages, j'ai du mal à en voir l'intérêt. Ma synthèse est particulièrement caricaturale, mais est engendrée par des heures ennuyeuses de lecture.

Les road-trips incluent aussi des rencontres, qui peut-être auraient pu être intéressantes si elles avaient été plus développées. Après tout, un voyage n'est (à mes yeux) réussi que si l'on a réussi à créer quelques liens et découvertes hors de son environnement habituel. Certes l'auteur tente d'approfondir à chaque rencontre sa connaissance de l'être humain, mais je pense que tout le monde étant "stoned" arriverait au même résultat.

L'écriture ne m'a pas non plus convaincu, peut-être suis-je beaucoup trop psycho-rigide pour une écriture qui se veut libérée des règles habituelles de la littérature.

Le livre achevé, j'ai juste le sentiment d'avoir assisté au gâchis de quelques vies humaines. La Beat Generation n'était probablement pas faite pour moi.

Firenze

As I sit and write this post, the sky outside is a bright blue dotted with lazy fluffy white clouds going by. And while the temperature might be a tad on the brisk side, its nonetheless shaping up to be a gorgeous summer day. I love summer. I guess because for me its vacation time, and sun and the sea.  And while I’m long past those days when summer inevitably meant vacation, it hasn’t stopped me from dreaming of journeying to far away exotic lands.So far this summer, the closest I’ve gotten to taking off was to spend a few days in the glorious city of Florence.   Florence is the capital of the Tuscany region of Italy and is considered the birth place of the Italian Renaissance.  It was the center of Medieval trade and finance and it gained widespread prominence thanks to its art and architecture.  So much art and architecture has merited its place in the UNESCO World Heritage Site.

There is no need for a set itinerary when you get to Florence. Merely walking about the city center is inspiring with all the fantastic architecture and art that is casually displayed everywhere.  No doubt the most striking feature of the city’s landscape is the Duomo.  I’m at a loss for words and its enough to crane my neck and try to glimpse the breadth of its striking red tiled dome that rises up a steep 432 steps as well as its  distinctive pink, white and green façade .  And to think that, as conceived by Brunelleschi, it was constructed entirely without a supporting structure.  It is instead composed of two concentric domes. Pretty amazing when you consider that construction began in the 13^th century. Long before computers and fancy equipment! Once you’ve done gawking the Duomo don’t hesitate to check out the neighboring Campanile designed by Giotto. It rises 82 meters high and is a 414 step climb up.

After the Duomo and the Campanile, a meandering walk took us to the Piazza della Signoria which has some of the city’s loveliest buildings.   It looks peaceful now and full of hordes of tourists are all over it, but it was also the place where Savonarola’s infamous bonfires took place.  I’m sure this square has seen its fair share of history!  It is also in this lovely square that the wonderful Uffizi Gallery can be found. 

If there is one museum you must see in Florence, it definitely would be the Uffizi. After all, it houses what is arguably the world’s biggest collection of Renaissance Italian art.  It is here that you will see Boticelli’s Birth of Venus, Spring and the Annunciation.  But that’s not all you’ll see. Other highlights include Titian’s Urbino Venus and Tintoretto’s Leda and the Swan.  It is just a mind boggling collection that you’ll forgive the sometimes haphazard way of displaying the works, not to mention the long queues just to get in.  The best thing I did with respect to the Uffizi was to book my tickets in advance. That way it took only 15 mins instead of hours!

Of course Florence wouldn’t be complete without Michaelangelo’s David.  But alas, the proud David that you find standing in the Piazza della Signoria is not the original.  The original has long been safely guarded within the walls of the Galleria dell’Academia.  I’m sure there are lots of other wonderful artwork in the Academia, but I, like everybody else made a beeline straight for David!

So much walking around that we couldn’t help but work up an appetite.  And I think I spent a good deal of my time in the city just sampling Florentine cuisine.  I confess to have had certain traitorous thoughts about how fine Italian cuisine could be compared to French.  But perhaps it was all that gelato I consumed that made my mind think so!

 Food, art, museums, churches with fabulous art, nearly every thing that makes a great trip was ticked off on my list .  One final thing to do before leaving was to visit the famed Officina-Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella.   How can I resist the one place where perfume making has been elevated almost to an artform.  Stepping inside its halls is almost like stepping back in time.  There is an old fashioned air about everything they do.  Towards the back room, I caught a glimpse of the convent grounds and I could almost imagine how it must have been then.   Of course I took time sampling the various scents so temptingly displayed in their counters.  Such a delicious assault on the senses, I walked away quite in a daze.  A fitting way to end my trip to Florence.    

Some photos from the trip....

Taking photos inside the Uffizi is prohibited, so I had to content myself with the many sculptures that were outside the Gallery...

The Piazza della Signoria

Just a glimpse of the inside of the Palazzo Vecchio which was the traditional seat of the Florentine government..

Here is the Palazzo Vecchi from outside ....

Not far is the river Arno, and the picturesque Ponte Vecchio,  a 14th century bridge that is home to jewelry shops since the reign of Fernando I de' Medici.  It is the only bridge not blown up during the war.

The Basilica di Santa Croce

The inner courtyard of the Santa Croce
The Church of the Santa Maria Novella
A glimpse of the Santa Maria Novella boutique

The eternal quest

Rebecca Miller’s new novel The Private Lives of Pippa Lee opens with Herb and Pippa Lee moving into  Marigold Village, a rich retirement community.  At 80 years old, Herb is tired and wants to be free of the stresses of a rich and wealthy life, so the house in Sag Harbor and the apartment in Gramercy Park are sold along with the rest of their possessions.  Pippa,at 50 is the youngest person in the community.  However outwardly perfect, serene and put together she seems to be, she’s not quite ready for the retired life and her life soon begins to unravel.  How she comes to this point takes the rest of the story to tell.  I don’t dare give more away as it is quite a tale and a good part of the pleasure of reading this book is seeing how it unfolds.

Miller’s novel focuses on the quest for personal identity and how this quest is shaped, opposed and nourished by family and circumstances.  Pippa’s story is  that of an outsider struggling to find her self and consequently her place in the sun and surely, this is one of the most universal of themes.  Granted, a few of Pippa’s experiences seem to be more out of the ordinary than what most of us know but then again, who knows what lies beneath the most seemingly ordinary person’s façade.  Miller’s great strength is her intelligent and sensitive prose that carries even the most extraordinary episodes.   At times, the story seemed to push the limits of credibility but her ability to ground her prose in carefully chosen details saves the tale. Some details stay with you even after you’ve turned the last page.  I don’t know why I should have been surprised, she is her father’s daughter after all.

Miller’s central concern for the search for identity becomes an even more poignant question when this search is coupled by an overwhelming desire, a need even, to belong.   Pippa, as we all do, wants to belong.  But at what point does the need for belonging overthrow your real self?  And what can one do about it?