Antwerp

Legend says that Druon Antigoon, a giant once lived at the bend of river Scheldt. He forced all passing ships to pay a toll and those who refused, lost a hand. Things continued this way until a Roman warrior by the name of Silvius Brabo arrived. He killed the giant and threw his hands in the river. Hand werpen (or Hand throwing) later evolved into Antwerpen. And that is how the city of Antwerp got its name. Those of a less fanciful bent say that the name comes from the remains of an ancient Gallo-Roman settlement on a mound or aanwerp along the riverside castle, Steen.

Fortunately enough, no sign remains of hands being chucked into the river and the ruins have long since disappeared, but Antwerp remains a city well worth visiting. It is one of those lovely cities where one can pretty much walk everywhere to see the important sights when visiting a city for the first time. It is dynamic and lively, fashionable almost to a fault and because it is a Belgian city, there are chocolate shops everywhere!

The lively Grote Markt is where all visits inevitably begin. It is a large triangular pedestrianized market square (now there’s an oxymoron!) that is dominated by its Cathedral. The Cathedral is dedicated to our Lady of Antwerp and it is the largest and finest Gothic cathedral in all of Belgium. There are at least 4 Rubens paintings inside so it’s a definite must-see.

Also worth seeing is the Stadhuis (Town Hall) with its impressive facade.

I shouldn’t forget to mention that Antwerp, for a city of such relatively small size, is impressive for its cultural landscape. The Royal Museum of Fine Arts is a treasure trove of Flemish masters led of course by Rubens. It has such an extensive collection that paintings are often rotated. One Museum that we absolutely adored is the Plantin-Moretus which houses the world’s first industrial printing works. It has got to be one of the most interesting museums, I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. In fact the mansion alone is well worth the admission price. It’s really beautiful and the garden inside is delightful. Little wonder that it is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

The exterior of the Plantin-Moretus museum does a good job of hiding the wonders inside

No less interesting is the Mode Musee which is housed within the complex of the Flanders Fashion Institute and fashion department of the Royal Museum of Fine Arts. The exhibitions change every 6 months but they are always incredibly interesting, well done exhibitions. Thus, it makes sense that the Mode Musee is the start of the Antwerp fashion walk. During our first visit, they had an exhibit on Maison Martin Margiella. This time around, it was an exhibition on Black. (But more on that in a separate post.) I love that fashion in Antwerp is both accessible and avant -garde. And I love that there are vintage shops everywhere. There is one part of town where I counted at least 3 vintage stores within a square mile.

I'm normally not a great fan of waffles but we discovered what has to be the yummiest waffles in all of Antwerp. Its a tiny place, just a hole in the wall really, but you order your waffles and its made on the spot. You eat it right there and then and its absolutely delicious.

And if that wasn't enough, we also discovered a wonderful little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street close to the river. It may have been a discovery for us but De Kleine Zavel is apparently one of the country's most sought after and reliable restaurants. It deserves such status as the food is excellent and the wine list is impressive. We liked it so much, we had dinner there for every night of our stay. We came away wonderfully satiated each time.
Here you can see the warm interiors of the restaurant...definitely an address worth keeping

A weekend in Brittany

Thanks to a great gift we were able to discover Brittany, a region we hardly have the occasion to visit. They say that it rains all the time there, not to mention the fact that it isn’t the warmest part of the country. But it is a spectacularly beautiful region, a fact we happily discovered during our weekend. Our destination of choice was St. Malo. There is something inherently dramatic about this city, helped no doubt by its encompassing ramparts and the all powerful sea that surges all around it. According to my trusty old guidebook, St. Malo has one of the world’s highest tidal ranges. This would account for the way the tide recedes to such an extent that one is able to access a small rocky islet where the 18^th century writer Chateaubriand is buried. Of course once the tide goes back in, you’re stuck for a full six hours.

Up on the ramparts, we got a good long look at the wide and powerful expanse that is the Atlantic sea. It is such a far cry from the warm blue of the Mediterranean. It was certainly easy to imagine St. Malo and the seas around it as the perfect place for privateers to set up their trade. More importantly this was an area where many naval “contests” took place between France and England to decide who was the more powerful country. In fact, the city walls were built to keep the city safe from such naval "contests". Looking down at the city below the ramparts, it is funny to realize that most of it was rebuilt after it was completely bombed out during WWII. Where one can see traces of its distant past is around the area of St. Sevran with its pretty church. One interesting fact we unearthed was that it was from St. Malo that Jacques Cartier set out on his landmark voyage that led to the discovery and naming of Canada!

Magnificent views and history aside, St. Malo is a great place to gorge on seafood and that wonderful Breton specialty--crepes and cider! Once you've had a taste of their crepes, it becomes impossible to have another anywhere else.

Believe it or not, this is a saltwater pool. At high tide, you don't see the ladder anymore..

A view of the ramparts...
When the tide comes in the water reaches the steps....

A lonely islet in the middle of all this water

On the other side of the brocante

I think its no secret that I love flea markets and rummage sales. The thrill of finding treasure, the camaraderie among the sellers and the general bonhomie at such events generally contribute to a great time. Well yesterday was a great day for one such event, the difference being that we were for once on the other side of the fence.

Our Brocante was held all along the stretch of the Cours de Vincennes. Along with 400 other sellers of which the professionals got the prime slots along the main street and regular folks like us were more or less relegated to the adjacent streets, we set up our wares and dutifully awaited the flow of customers just dying to purchase our stuff. Our closest neighbor on our left was a rather dubious gentleman (and I use the term very loosely) whose wares consisted of a few glass jugs, what looked like a coffee dispenser and some other odds and ends. To our right was a nice enough man whose wares betrayed no discernible theme. Old photos, postcards, pairs of jeans (?!) and old records were all on his table and the whole time we were there, he didn’t really make an effort to sell. He just kinda hung out and made friends with the folks passing by. Later in the day, a rather noisy and loud man started hanging out and who seemed to make it his business to poke his nose in everyone else’s business. Before I could blink, he’d set out his table with all sorts of products, from bath soaps to used cameras. All of which were loudly proclaimed to be on sale for the cheapest prices imaginable.

Being on the sellers side is a peculiar and particular experience. You are literally exposed to all manner and sort of folks. There were the cool youngsters decked out in vintage looking to score great vintage finds without the high prices, the young couples looking for cheap household wares little old ladies with their grandchildren looking for toys, dapper looking grandfathers looking for old books and magazines, curious kibitzers looking for bargains or looking to score…and so on and on the steady flow went. We literally had a good slice of the French population and boy, did it make for some great people watching. This was the side of Paris that was as far and as different but no less real as the fancy streets of St. Honore and Avenue Montaigne

As for our goods, let’s just say that we sold enough to treat ourselves to dinner!

There were all sorts of goods to be had...this stand had so much vinyl records, it made me wish for my own turntable...

Old books, prints, paintings....no wonder they're enthralled..

Our rather loud neighbor's table....

And the nosy man who minded everyone else's business but his own. I was trying to snap a photo of the street in general when he decided to pose, and he grabbed two unsuspecting girls while he was at it!

Promenade de santé

Mélanie Laurent ne chômant pas vraiment au cinéma, et il est étonnant qu'elle ait le temps de jouer au théâtre. En même temps, ce n'est pas un fait nouveau que pour certains acteurs, le théâtre représente la crédibilité, l'étiquette "d'acteur sérieux", même si je pense que vu sa (bonne) filmographie, Mélanie Laurent n'a rien à prouver.

Promenade de santé est donc la première pièce que joue l'actrice, et elle a été écrite spécialement pour elle par Nicolas Bedos. La pièce (très courte, mais ce n'est pas un problème vu le contenu creux), met en scène un couple qui se rencontre dans une clinique psychiatrique. Les deux protagonistes en sortiront mais s'y retrouveront, et le spectateur assiste à leur retrouvailles, leurs adiex et leur dialogues.

Que Pariscope fasse la critique "Nicolas a écrit un texte fort... Mélanie Laurent et Jérôme Kircher sont formidables... On adore!", on peut comprendre, après tout le but du journal est de faire sortir les gens, quel que soit le niveau de la sortie. Mais que le Figaro ou Le Point fasse des critiques dithyrambiques. , j'ai plus de mal à le comprendre....

Soyons franc, le texte de Nicolas Bedos est creux, voire parfois même vulgaire. Certes je suis peut-être prude, et la vulgarité vend, mais quand le public a l'impression que l'auteur a parfois un peu de mal à remplir une heure de spectacle, ce n'est pas vraiment bon signe. Et je suis au regrete de dire que le jeu de Mélanie Laurent (que je trouve pourtant excellente dans ses films) est loin d'être convaincant, car il semble beaucoup trop forcé. Son partenaire en revanche est excellent, et la pièce valait donc cette découverte.

La pièce s'arrêtant le 1ier mai, que ceux qui l'ont raté ne se désespèrent pas, Promenade de Santé n'est pas incontournable. Vous pouvez aussi louer Shutter Island qui traite le même thème, mais de bien meilleure façon.

Jan Karski

En France, la réputation fait du Polonais soit un plombier, soit un antisémite. Cela n'est d'ailleurs pas incompatible. Comme pour tout mythe, personne ne se donne la peine d'argumenter, et le témoignage de Jan Karski tombait à point nommé pour donner de la Pologne une autre vision.

Remis sur le devant de la scène par un roman à polémique de Yannick Haenel, l'auteur eut pour mission pendant la seconde guerre mondiale d'avertir les gouvernements alliés de l'état de la Pologne, et notamment du sort réservé aux Juifs. Certains hommes ont une destinée extraordinaire, ce qui ne veut pas dire que cela soit enviable, et Karski a été torturé par la Gestapo, a pu s'introduire dans un camp de concentration et dans le Ghetto de Varsovie, et a surtout pu s'échapper des trois. Cela fait de son expérience un témoignage plus qu'extraordinaire, et pour couronner le tout, il a obtenu une rencontre avec Roosevelt, entrevue dont le récit dans Shoah provoquera d'ailleurs des reproches envers le réalisateur Claude Lanzmann.

Ecrit et publié en 1944, Mon témoignage devant le monde est à la fois fascinant et horrifiant. On y trouve le meilleur comme le pire, et la description du Ghetto de Varsovie, et surtout du camp de concentration est à la limite du soutenable. A éviter en bateau, en avion, et partout où on a déjà le coeur au bord des lèvres.

Ce livre qui se lit d'une traite, permet également de découvrir une Pologne dont l"histoire est assez peu connu. Partagé pour la première fois en 1772, le pays a depuis subi guerres et partage de façon ininterrompue, ce qui semble avoir provoqué chez les Polonais un fort sentiment patriotique. Etant particulièrement réticente à tout ce qui touche à la politique et à l'économie, Karski a réussi à me rendre intéressante (et touchante) l'histoire de son pays.

On ressort de ce récit ému, bouleversé et lessivé par tant malheurs, le plus grand étant peut-être que les Polonais pensaient que leur pays serait sauvé lorsque les Alliés réussiraient à vaincre l'Allemagne. Staline avait été quelque peu sous-estimé dans l'équation.

Le diable rouge

En parisienne très snob, il est évident que les tournées théâtrales en province n'étaient pas pour moi. L'arroseur étant arrosé, ayant loupé Le Diable Rouge au théâtre Montparnasse, je me suis rattrapée avec une représentation en banlieue (oui, je suis même prête à ça...). Mazarin, le Diable Rouge donc (par sa tenue de cardinal) est au coeur de cette pièce historique qui met en scène le passage à l'âge adulte du jeune Louis XIV.

Et outre le fait que j'ai découvert, que non, la banlieue ne signifiait pas une mise à mort culturelle vu leur programme théâtral, cinématographique et musical annuel, la représentation m'a heureusement permis d'assister à un petit chef d'oeuvre.

Claude Rich, que je connaissais de réputation, mais n'avais pas encore eu la chance de voir à l'oeuvre, relève le challenge avec brio. A plus de 80 printemps, il joue avec un naturel désarmant, sans sembler ressentir une fatique qui semblerait légitime pour une pièce de 2h et surtout en tournée. S'il est évidemment la vedette, il est entouré de façon excellente, et les autres personnages sont loin de faire pâle figure.

Le texte de Antoine Rault, truffé de traits d'esprit, est un petit bijou, et reste particulièrement moderne. Les décors sont superbes, bien que simples.

Une pièce qui pourrait enfin me convaincre que les pièces historiques ne sont pas ennuyeuses, et qu'elles sont autant à considérer que les pièces contemporaines.