Parisian advent of delights. Weeks 3 & 4.

The delights of Ile de la Cité.

Marché aux fleurs. Paris.

The holiday week has surprised me with its intensity. Of course I knew that Christmas was around the corner but suddenly it was right here, jumping out just in front of me. Most of the planning went out the window because somehow I forgot to factor in the relationships and the time spent with people that I care about- and that was a priority. Another element that I neglected was energy- and I didn’t have all that much of it left. Which is a long winded way of explaining why there was no newsletter last week.

But…I kept looking for delights and walking around the city, trying to notice the magical moments of beauty.

This collection of delights, incomplete as it is, is my gift to you all to thank you for being here and for reading my words.

The delight of books, coffee and the beating heart of Paris.

If, as you might have read before, a shopping mall is for me an opposite of delight. The bookstore, however, is somewhere at the very top.

One day I’ll do a self appointed art residency of the bookshops of Paris and when I do so « Shakespeare and Co » will be my first stop.

It is an English language bookshop founded in 1951. An American- George Whitman- opened the shop at 37 rue de la Bûcherie, Kilometer Zero, the point where all French roads begin. Constructed in the early 17th century, the building was originally a monastery. The story goes that George liked to pretend that he was the sole surviving monk, saying, « In the Middle Ages, each monastery had a frère lampier, a monk whose duty was to light the lamps at nightfall. I’m the frère lampier here now. It’s the modest role I play. »

Through his bookstore George Whitman endeavoured to carry on the spirit of Sylvia Beach’s shop (the « original » « Shakespeare and Co » that was established at 12 rue de l’Odéon) and it quickly became a center for expat literary life in Paris.

George Whitman in his store.

In 2006, George Whitman, then 92 years old, has put his daughter, Sylvia, in charge of the store. But I still remember seeing him, browsing around the place, always ready to start up a conversation. I like going to the café near the store- it is tiny but the coffee is delicious and one gets an almost unobstructed view of Notre Dame.

And if there is one delight that encompasses all others this month- it’s the opening of the Notre Dame Cathedral to the public after the fire in 2019. I’m yet to visit the cathedral but just seeing it without the scaffolding, with people streaming in changes everything- as if a part of the city is alive again. Cathedrals have been the beating hearts of the cities in the Middle Ages and somehow- in the very modern city of Paris- Notre Dame cathedral has kept this role.

I’ve drunk my coffee slowly while watching the wind chasing away napkins and messing up the hair of the beautiful young tourists. I looked at Notre Dame and thought of a beating heart: letting a line of the people in and letting them out, maybe at least a bit restored by the contact with history and beauty.

Glacial wind

Pigeon fluffs its feathers-

Oh, tasty crumbs.

The delight of Marché aux Fleurs.

Le Marché aux Fleurs de Paris is a flower market situated in between Notre Dame and La Sainte Chapelle. Two beautiful ancient buildings with amazing stained glass windows and in the middle- the flower filled metallic structures built in 1873. Even though the market itself exists since 1830.

It’s a quaint place filled with plants- and this time of the year with Christmas trees of all sizes. The density of the plants and flowers is unexpected- they are crowded in what is a relatively narrow space making a dense canopy. In the glassed in- no heating- spaces-the sellers present indoor plants. A shop is dedicated to stunning orchids that flower in cascades of white petals- only a glass separating them from the street with the cars rushing by and the pedestrians preoccupied with their problems. If only they turned their heads to see that right next to them there is this magical world of white. That perfectly sculpted beauty.

But some of the shops are also filled with what might only be called- trinkets. Garlands of beads and flowers to decorate the walls, glass ornaments and sun catchers, bronze and zinc suspensions…Normally I wouldn’t be attracted to these displays but somehow their accumulation- and also their quality- create the impression of beautiful jewels, fragile and colourful, suspended or layed out as if in some magic shop.

The delight of wood and stone.

I’ve also found delight in the exhibition that is currently taking place in the Conciergérie: «Revelation! The contemporary art of Bénin ».

I’m realising as I’m writing this that if I were to draw a map, all the delights I’ve mentioned so far are situated in the same, rather small area, Île de la Cité. La Conciergérie is one of the most ancient remains of the Palais de la Cité that was the palace and the center of power of the French kings in the Middle ages. The building has become a prison in the end of the XIVth century and stayed so up to and during the Revolution, where its most famous resident was of course, Marie Antoinette.

Now the vast underground floor has become an exhibition space. There are two wooden sculptures that have particularly captured my attention. The contrast with the warm surface of the wood and the stone walls of the hall was particularly striking.

La souche de l’oubli ( A stump of oblivion), Epahas Toïhen.

Fragilité (Fragility), Nathanaël Vodouhé

More delights:

I think they may be called the delights of the imagination. During this dark and cold time of the year we turn inwards, as there are less distractions that pull at us to go outside, to explore. For some of us the deep treasures of our own imagination become visible in this soothing darkness. In a sense it’s like becoming a child again. Christmas with its magical aspect reinforces that feeling, that dreamy quality of childhood.

The fox.

I woke up one morning and in this twilight zone between dreaming and awakening there was that white silky fox sitting at the foot of my bed.

The bubbles in the coffee. I’ve been drinking a fair amount of coffee and tea both trying to keep warm and to keep some of my energy up. Trying to be present when the hot water starts pouring and the steam lifts from the cup and noticing tiny bubbles gathering on the surface, making up images. I remember a rabbit, a heart.

The reflection of a tree and its twinkling lights in the window. I would drink my coffee often in the darkness and silence of an early morning only lighting a small candle and the lights on a tree. Watching their reflection as well as that of a candle, sometimes tripled, made up a form of morning meditation for me.

Bringing nature inside. At it’s most obvious it’s the Christmas tree, of course, but I’ve also brought greenery gathered in the forest, and hyacinths, and moss. This blending of the limits between inside and outside echoes the delight of the reflections in the window that I write about above.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed this tour of delights- don’t hesitate to press heart as it is a wonderful encouragement to me as an author and delights me to no end :) Of couse, share your own delights in the comments and may these last few days of 2024 be peaceful and full of wonder!