Musée Nissim de Camondo - a history of power and betrayal

Today Mimi, Patricia and Kim and I visited the Musée Nissim de Camondo, close to Parc Monceau. 

I was honestly impressed both by the astonishing beauty of this home-museum as by the story of this unfortunate dynasty, now died out. Sepharditic Jews expelled from Spain, they moved to Istanbul where they made a fortune with their bank (they were known as the “Rothschilds of the East.”). Once they obtained the Austrian then the  Italian citizenship (thanks to the King of Italy, Victor Emmanuel II who made them “Counts”), they moved to Paris where they became art collectors … Isaac apparently spent a fortune to by  paintings by Monet, Cezanne and more than 30 works by Degas (painting he later donated to the Louvre!). His cousin Moise, who lived in this home as a child, decided to transform this home in a living collection of Louis XV and Louis XVI furniture and decorative arts: the building itself is inspired after the Petit Trianon, where both Madame de Pompadour and Marie Antoinette lived. 

 Inside, each room was especially made to showcase the precious  collections, certainly one of the greatest of 18th-century French furniture: it includes rarities such as a table topped with petrified wood that was once owned by Marie Antoinette, an outstanding collection of Chinese porcelain, fine French paintings, carpets from Versailles, tapestries from Aubusson illustrating La Fontaine fables, the fabulous Sèvres Buffon service with each piece decorated with a different bird, and the bronze and the silver from Russian Empress Catherine II, and so much more.  

One of my favorite area of the museum was the cuisine: approximately 30 by 40 feet in dimension, tiled in white and black from floor to ceiling, it contains the most extraordinary stove and oven I’ve ever seen. The stove occupies almost half of the kitchen, has eight burners which could accommodate enormous pots side by side. The oven, separated, has four ovens and two steam cabinets.  On the opposite wall there is a huge work counter with cabinets beneath and numerous long shelves above displaying beautiful pieces of copper cookware, bowls and more. 

The fifteen domestics who lived in this house would eat in the adjacent room, which communicates with the main kitchen through a “passe-plats”. 

We are not done yet: another door takes you to the chef’s office, which has a “vertical passé-plat” communicating to the above formal dining room. The chef was also the only one, among the servants, allowed to communicate through a telephone with the exterior (mainly with the butcher…). 

 Next to the door there is a “intercom” which, by means of lightened small bulbs, would allow the servants downstairs to easily understand in which room of the immense house their service was requested. Cool! 

There was even an elevator next to the main staircase… 

When Moise’s son, Nissim, died in WWI while fighting for France, he decided to make his house into a museum in memory of his son. His daughter Beatrice, together with her kids and former husband, were arrested by the the French Vichy government deported to Dracy and then to Auschwitz, where they all died. 

First of all, there was quite a discussion among us regarding how handsome was Nissim: some say he was an Andy Garcia type, some say he looked more like Sacha Baron Cohen....I'll let you decide. 

While walking through the different areas, I tried to imagine how difficult it must have been to be raised here as child, without being able to jump on sofas, without a chance of touching or moving thins around. Not certainly a child-proof home! Probably even the owner’s wife felt unease in this museum-home…in fact she fled with the horse trainer! But my mind was mostly taken by another thought: when we watched the movie about the family, I was shocked to learn that, despite the family donation to this Country in terms of lives and money, the French government didn't help them but actually approved their tragic deportation. So much for friendship!

I hope you enjoyed my blog on this amazing museum. As always, comments are welcome and encouraged. Cheers!

The rain....

Some time ago, an American mother of  asked me what was the aspect of Paris that I liked most. Without thinking twice, I replied "The rain!". Indeed I always thought that this city reveales the best of its beauty and charm when the weather is rainy and the sky is covered with dark clouds. I think of the sound of the raindrops on the roofs, the reflections of the monuments in the puddles, the couples in love under one umbrella, as in the paintings of Doisneau ... But enough is enough!  

I can't tolerate more of this rain, more soaked clothes or muddied shoes or filthy footprints on the floor. Enough with carrying umbrellas in my purse, enough with the perpetually messy and wrinkled hair. After all, shouldn't this be the City of Light? So, let me ask you: when was the last time we had the opportunity to actually see the light? I can't remember. My memory had been washed away during the last downpour. Could I have a little sun for more than two days in a row? A little healthy Californian sun? Please....

Kayak in Ardeche...when we almost lost Josh...

It's been two weeks now since we came back from our trip to Ardeche but I couldn't find the words to tell this adventure. It was beautiful but also the scariest moment of my life.

It all began a couple of months ago, when I decided to organize with  some old friends in Biot (the place where Giuseppe lived from 1998 until 2005) a "reunion" to celebrate both Giuseppe anniversary and also our 7th wedding anniversary. Some of those friends came  along with us in Ardeche already 13 years ago, for a kayaking week-end. At that time, since none of us had kids, we descended the river in two days, camping in the Bivouac de Gaud at night (we had the tent, the sleeping bags, the bbq, a lot of wine and beer....what did we need more?). This time of course we had to organize our trip a little differently, since the other two couples had respectively two and four kids. But we did it.
After hours of driving across this country, surrounded by magnificent landscapes and lush countryside....we passed near Montelimar where the immense 4 chimneys of the nearby nuclear plant reminded us, shockingly, that the French, in contrast to Italians, are not worried of getting 70% of their power from nuclear sources!

After almost ten hours of driving, we arrived to The Camping du Midi, where we had our two cottage homes: two double bedroom, living room with dinette, bathroom, shower room and veranda. Not bad! 

 It was great: after so many years we still had so much to share and laugh about! Additionally all the kids (7 in total) connected immediately, despite the language (they all speak French!). Josh was extraordinary: not even one moment he felt uncomfortable with the language. The first morning, since it was raining... 

 

...we decided to visit the Grotte de la Madeline: a magical place highlighted by a show with special sounds and lights effect . The place has huge and amazing concretions. Wonderful. 

Then in the afternoon we had our first experience in the Gorges de l'Ardeche with the kayaks. It was awesome! 

 

The expedition was formed by three kayaks: the Knopp's (Cathy, Raymond and 9 y.o. Michael), the Kohrs's (Arndt, 10 y.o. Noah and 7 y.o. Alan) and the Caire's. 
Only 8 km (almost 5 miles) to begin with but enough to experience the cold water, the first white water and to familiarize with the whole paddling thing.  Josh was constantly asking us to go in the hardest part of the rapids: I can't blame him! It's fun, you get splashed and you have to move quickly in order to get out from that hell, but it's a wonderful experience. We ended the afternoon just after the 60 m stone arch which spans the river: the Pont d'Arc.

In the evening the kids played ping-pong while we prepared dinner. Then they had a very special treat: s'mores, just like in the USA.
On the next day we started around 10 am the longest ride: 24 km (15 miles) down the river, without any chance to stop in the middle. There's no way that, if you change your mind, you can climb up. The river walls are limestone cliffs up to 300 m high. In the morning, during one particular white water, both the other two teams flipped over and we all paddled back to help the kids. Of course they were scared, but overall it was fine, since they only got in the water. The "sapeurs pompiers" (rangers) are constantly monitoring the difficult areas of the river and they helped us retrieving the shoes, the paddle, the hats, etc.
Around noon we stopped for lunch: fortunately all our stuff was "sealed" into special containers, so our cheese and salami were still eatable. Then, just after we restarted our second part, that's when it happened. I was in the front, Josh in the middle and Giuseppe in the back . We were going through a white water, the Dent Noir, which is particularly difficult because there's a rock right in the middle of the river and most of the kayaks crash in the rock and then flip over. Actually we completed the white water without turning upside down and without hitting the Dent Noir, but, just when we were about to get out of the fast running water, I wasn't able to turn the kayak toward the center of the river so we crashed with our left side against a rock on the left wall. Completely. What about all the tips that the guy told us about trying to jump over the rock before tipping over so you're not stuck under the kayak? Useless, at least when everything happens in less that 2 seconds. Others before us had just hit the same rock so they were stuck against the rocky wall as well. Two kayaks, once next to the other. With the left side of our kayak against the rock and the water running against our right side so fast, we immediately tipped over. As soon as I had my head out of the water, able to breath again, I was taken away by the current. I tried to swim upstream, with all my strength, but I just couldn't. I was calling for Josh, trying to see him but in vain. After a few seconds I saw Giuseppe taken away by the water and our kayak going down the river along with him, but no sign of Josh. The other kayak, the one that was already there when we crashed, was still upside down against the rock...that's when I panicked. What if Josh was stuck under the kayak and couldn't get out? It was already about a minute and I still couldn't see him. I kept calling him but nothing, no answer. Then I guy over a rock on the side of the river gave me a sign and I saw my son. He was pale, terrified, completely in shock. After swimming back and holding on the rocks, I was finally able to reach him. That's when he told me that, not only he was stuck under the kayak, but also that the rock we crashed against had a "submerged cave", about 2 meters wide, just beneath the level of the water. He was stuck there and was pushed against the bottom of the "cave" by the current. When he realized that he had no way out, he swam with all his energy against the current, and was finally out. 
Here is a video I found on YouTube about the Dent Noir white waters: 

 

I am still shaking, now, even after two weeks. This place is advertised as one of the safest rivers in France: it's actually open to kids over 7 years old and during the same weekend we saw literally hundreds of kids with their family. Who on earth could imagine that there is such an unsafe area there, with a "hidden trap" underwater....A couple of days after we came back, I almost fainted when I read on a French newspaper that just the week before, a 37 y.o. guy died in exactly the same spot. Horrible. 
What or who do I have to thank for this "happy ending" we were blessed with? The almost five years of weekly swimming lessons? Someone up there that didn't feel it was the right moment for Josh to leave his crazy parents?
After this dramatic moment and after taking a long break, we had to go back on the kayak: as I said previously, there is no way you can get out of the canyon without kayaking.
Of course until the end, we were very careful to avoid all possible dangers, even though we turned upside down once more (tired, mistake...who knows?). This time I grabbed my son's hand while we were still halfway between air and water...this time I was going with him, no matter where! 
We finished around 7 pm. By that time Josh and the other kids were no longer scared or shocked. They were just exhausted and happy that everything was over.
The bus took us back to the campsite and then, after the last kisses and hugs, we drove to Avignon, just 80 km away. But of course, without the GPS app of my smartphone (right, the phone was  the only victim of the adventure....together with all the pictures and movies....no regrets, I have my son, I don't care about the pictures!) it took us more that 2 hrs to arrive there.
Let me give you a tip: don't ever try to drive your car in Avignon. It's a nightmare. Impossible. The craziest labyrinth of one-way streets and "no-parking" signs I've ever seen. We arrived in our splendid hotel: it's called the Hotel Restaurant Palais des Papes, right in the central village. It is really nice and elegant...the stair is unbelievable:

The best thing? The view from our room: 

In the morning we woke up, we had breakfast, then we crossed the square and visited the Palais des Papes and the Pont d'Avignon...then it was time to go back to Paris.
In the end, everything was fine...we were together, safe and happy. No nightmares, no post-traumatic stress...but I'm not doing it again. At least not with my son. 

 

Château de Fontainebleau, with cranky boys and rude waiters..

It couldn't have been a better day for a visit to this Château. The weather was beautiful, no home works... But we had to work hard in order to make it a memorable day...First, the website provides you with wrong information to how to get there (the navette bus leaving hourly from rue de Rivoli? It's a scam! It just links you to a tour operator that organizes expensive day trip to the site). So my friend and I decided to meet at the metro station and go by train. It would have been a good idea...but the boys decided that they couldn't spend 25 minutes on the train without playing video games on our mobile phones ("We're getting bored! There's nothing to do, nothing to talk about, nothing to see", and so on). Somehow we survived this first whining episode. Only to find out that, once you arrive at the train station in Fontainbleau, the navette bus to the Château runs only once every hour.  So we had to wait a long time. That's when the second whining scene happened, with both kids starting together as a choir: "Why are we here? Another chateau? Can't we go back to Paris and stay home?". Relax, take a breath, don't react. 

After about an hour we finally reached our destination but we decided to make a deal with the kids: we would stop in the gardens first, have a quick lunch and then go to the castle. That was a good idea, since we enjoyed almost half hour of no-complains. 

The paradox is that they actually loved the visit to the castle, as much as we adults did. All the weapons, the furniture, the paintings, the rooms with the tapestries! The carved ceilings and the galleries...it was just gorgeous! 

It was early afternoon when we moved to the great gardens where the Canal and once again, after a short time, both the boys started again asking to go back to Paris. 

We gave up, we started to walk back and agreed on a playdate (as if they weren't spending time together....) but immediately turned down the offer when we found out that they only wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon in front of a videogame. Can't they just play without thinking obsessively at the latest game version? Whatever! They are both smart, lovely and great kids. Just do the right thing! 

Before going back we sat down at a coffe-shop and ordered some ice-cream....wrong! 

As soon as Josh asked for a personalized version of their offers in the menu, the waiter (obviously non American!) answered him, rudely:" No, you can't have it. It's Sunday, it's 5 pm, there's hundreds of people here and I can't have everyone doing their own variation on the menu. Perhaps, if it was a week-day, I could think about it. But today is a no!". 

OK, we get the point. We are just customers, we are foreigners, you don't like us, you don't appreciate our effort to order you in French, we don't have any right to be treated nicely. Just give us the quickest ice-cream and stop with your sermon!

We had the ice-creams, which were really good. Then when we paid (my friend was almost tempted to give him a tip, when I stopped her), Josh, obviously forgetting about the previous preach, asked the waiter if he could have one more decorative umbrella. The one they put on top of the ice-cream. 

It would have been to easy to answer "yes" or "sure, no problem". This is not the right country. Again he started:" Kid, don't you have already one? Why do you want more? Don't you see I'm busy? I can't waste time with your request....". 

Gone. Before he even finished his second telling-off, we were gone. I had it for the day. Enough with people complaining. Having to deal with boys who occasionally complain is one thing...by the way, those are our boys and it's part of the deal that they whine and we control ourselves. But a waiter? Forget it. I'm out of here! 

Of course we had to wait another 30 minutes for the navette bus to take us back to the train station but it was fine. Also this inexplicable lack of organization between the trains and the buses was a small problem at this time of the day. We were happy for what we saw, tired because of the long day, happy that the kids didn't fight but seemed to enjoy their time together. All's well that ends well. 

Tomorrow, Canal St Martin? Perhaps. Why not? 

Le temps a laissé son manteau

Le temps a laissié son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye,
Et s'est vestu de brouderie,
De soleil luyant, cler et beau.

Il n'y a beste, ne oyseau,
Qu'en son jargon ne chante ou crie
Le temps a laissié son manteau
De vent, de froidure et de pluye.

Riviere, fontaine et ruisseau
Portent, en livree jolie,
Gouttes d'argent, d'orfaverie ;
Chascun s'abille de nouveau
Le temps a laissié son manteau.

                                by Charles d' ORLEANS

Fun and speed

I'm not sure if we decided to do the Go-Karting because of Josh...or because of Giuseppe. I'm more prone to the second answer. Well, Beppe has been asking for this since October, when Josh came to this circuit for a birthday party. 

Any how, since, as usual, it was raining outside, what better time to go indoor for some fun? 

We had separate sessions, adults and kids, to avoid crying and desperation among the young ones and prevent anti-sportive behaviors among the father! Josh had his first session and got a nice score. He was speeding and enjoying it, avoiding other cars who hit the barriers or made 360 degrees turns. He almost got out of his own car when he saw another kid stuck in the middle of the racing lane. Can you believe it? He wanted to  make sure that the kid was ok. 

Then it was our turn. 

It was ok...but while I was pressing on the gas, I was asking myself why did I agree to this? The hands were shaking like crazy, all my body was in pain because of the vibrations and the constant muscle contraction. Is this a sport? Really? Why would you do it? I don't understand. Of course Beppe doubled me ...but just because I realized only at the parking spot that the left pedal was the brake! The day after my lower back was so painful I almost couldn't walk. Never again.

Here's the movie of our performances: