I don’t speak the language, but my favorite word in French is gendre, for son-in-law, which is what I am — and what brought me and my wife to Paris for a blissful week (her dad, Texas born and bred, has lived on a quaint cul-de-sac in the 4th arrondissement for the last 15 years or so).
Pictured here is the altar at Sainte-Chapelle, which I can confidently call one of the most stunning rooms in the world. (Click to view the enlarged image.) Between that and the Palace of Versailles, I saw French history and architecture on both a small and a massive scale. My last trip to France, in 1997, took me from Paris through the Loire Valley to Angers, then down to Bayonne and back to Paris again — a panoramic voyage through much of the country. This time I had the chance to absorb Paris itself more fully.
I wasn’t in a political frame of mind, though we arrived in the midst of a transit strike that resolved itself fairly quickly. The divide in public opinion seemed well captured in two pieces of graffiti I saw: “Vive Les Grévistes!” (“long live the strikers”) and “Faites l’amour, pas les grèves!” (“make love, not strikes!”).
I had the chance to hear pianist Tigran Hamasyan while in town; my review will be up at JazzTimes.com shortly. Also had coffee with Mohamed Gastli of the BEE Jazz label — he pressed into my hands the latest from bassist Daniel Yvinec, The Lost Crooners, featuring the excellent nylon-string guitarist Nelson Veras.
Incredible food and wine, a silver furniture exhibit at Versailles, a full moon over the Pont Louis-Philippe, bells ringing out just after dark at Notre Dame, lots of quality family time: it wasn’t easy leaving this for gritty Philadelphia, which was plunged into such deep fog and rain that our plane got diverted to Baltimore. We sat on the tarmac for nearly three and a half hours, then took off back to Philly — from boarding to final exit, a total of about 14 hours on that cramped Airbus 330.
On the initial approach, a flight attendant directed visitors’ attention to a short video about Philly. I leaned in and joked to my wife: “Welcome to gun-infested Philadelphia, which practically leads America in drug-related murders. Enjoy your stay!”
All things considered, I’m glad to be home and back to work. I’ll share more photos and try to resume regular posting once I’m resettled.
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