Parisian memories

I have been flaneuring through my memories. For some reason my thoughts often went to Paris. Maybe it was a result of the French Films Festival?  Or maybe it is because they were really good times, that I spent in Paris. It was so much to discover and absorb and I was so young. Hmmm….Whatever the reason, my Parisian memories suddenly became vivid and I enjoy recollecting the times. Sometimes, I stop and think about something I experienced there, the details flood my memory. It seems to be a little like flaneuring. I look around the pictures that pop up to my mind and then go a bit further in the recollection process. New pictures and new memories... It is quite fun, I want to capture my thoughts. At one stage I thought of writing about a very French event, almost X-rated and quite unbelievable.  I know it was true and I also know that not many will believe me. This post is to set the scene; the next one will be a juicy one. How about that for building up expectations? I wonder if it will work.

I lived in Paris only one year. It was going to be a three year assignment of my husband who worked for IBM. My first foreign country, I moved to a completely different life style from that I was used to. In Poland I had a very interesting job that I loved, friends, family and familiar surroundings. I had a good life in Warsaw even if my Western friends did not quite believe me.

At that time, I loved France and all French things. My love became more realistic with time, like one may experience in a good long lasting relationships. With time illusions fade, one is not infatuated any more, we see imperfections and get sometimes irritated with the object of our affection but the fondness is there even if the eyes are wide open. This is how I now feel about France; love it but not blindly.

So, some years ago I landed up in Paris without knowing the language, no friends and husband working IMB hours. These mean very, very long hours. I had a lot of time on my hands. Even if I had qualifications and a will to work as a programmer, I was not granted a French work permit.  It was my first disappointment with French ways. But it was not all bad, far from it. Paris is Paris. It has Louvre, parks, rue St Honore, Monmartre, many museums and streets to flaneur along. I was very lucky which I forgot to appreciate at times and sometimes let myself feel miserable in this foreign country that was interesting but sooo foreign after all.

This is Rue Tronchet in the XIX century, a busy street even then. La Madeleine in its full splendor at the end of the street. We lived in one of the buildings on the right side of the street.

                         

 We lived at rue Tronchet 27. Not exactly a place people live in Paris but since the assignment was only one year my wise husband thought that living in a very centre of Paris would be a good thing for us. And it was. The place was next to the big department stores Printemps and Galeries Lafayette. I could see La  Madeleine church if I leaned out of the window a bit. It was about 5 minutes walk to the Opera. Boulevard Haussmann about 100 meters from the gate of our building. The Louvre and Tuileries Gardens in a walking distance. It was a fantastic shopping and cultural location.

Window shopping started just when I left the gate of the building.

Being so centrally located, the place was noisy! To open the windows was almost out of the question. Even when the windows were closed it was difficult to hear sound of television in business hours. It became quiet when shops and offices closed. Then the place was deserted.

Sundays were quiet days, hardly any traffic or people walking the street. Spooky.

My next story is about a Sunday afternoon at Rue Trochet 27.

Woollahra Revisited

The other day, I spent a very nice afternoon in Woollahra, one of the most elegant Sydney Eastern Suburbs. Woollahra has been going through some years of decline and now has regained its attractiveness even if it has changed its character considerably.

Some years ago I used to spend some weekend time there, looking at antique shops that Queen Street was famous of. Martyn Cook Antiques were an object of admiration and envy of other antique dealers. Sometimes, I used to go to the same auctions as famous Martyn Cook. I still remember one very special auction held in Ramada Hotel. It had some very attractive pieces that I was very interested in. One of them was a clock set in a Blanc de Chine case. It was very unusual and very beautiful. Maybe not everybody’s cup of tea, but it was mine. Unfortunately it was also Martyn’s Cook. Would I have won a bid if I tried? I do not know, but the problem was that I even did not try. Somebody like me was not to compete with such an antique authority as holly Martyn. I still remember the clock even it was such a long time ago.

I sidetracked a bit and I only wanted to say that there is no Martyn Cook Antiques on Queen Street. In fact, there is only one antiques shop left there. The numerous others moved on to different suburbs or oblivion.

This time I found a different Queen Street. Looks that it is still in transition from the old antiques dominated street to another look and profile. Will it be a street for those interested in gourmet cooking? Maybe? There are  two very interesting new shops. One is a Polish delicatessen combined with a coffee place selling and serving Polish specialties. This is Wieczorkowski showing Sydneysiders and of course selling European decadence. We had lunch there and it was fantastic. Being born Polish, we had to order the country speciality – polish dumplings. For some time now I have been disappointed with the dish and I ate it for patriotic and nostalgic reasons only. However, at Wieczorkowski we were served, a dish that I really liked. If any of my readers find his way to Queen Street at Woollhara, I would warmly recommend a visit at Wieczorkowski Caffee.

                                

Another nice surprise was Victor Churchill, the butcher. His shop drew my attention with its window decoration that did not look like a butcher shop at all.  Australia is preparing for the 100 anniversary of the battle of Gallipoli, day of remembrance for all soldiers who fought and died for their country. To join in the spirit of the special occasion the window of the shop looked like that:

The door of the shop is adorned with brass sausages. 

Display of various meats 

Display of the meat cuts one can buy in the shop is most impressive.  Fabulous recipes come to mind when one looks at what is available and taste of the most beautiful dishes created out of this magnificent meats. 

The friendly butcher who was happy to show us the shop and answer our questions said that even if all those special cuts are available the mostly bought meat was eye fillet. Not very adventurous really.  

Things and people passing on

In the last weeks and  even months I my experiences have been marked by changes and departures. While I do not want to dwell on the negatives, I feel that I want to reflect on the events.

Changes in friendships have always been a big thing with me. I wanted them to last forever.  I thought that this was a rule, once you like somebody you like the person forever. But it is  not like that. As years passed I noticed that marriages finish, friends move away, close people die, dreams do not come to be....  Many good new things start at the same time and I find it important to keep track of them as they often slip away from my emotional radar. Rick Hanson, a leading neuropsychologist,  says  that our brains are like Velcro for the bad and Teflon for the good. So the trick is to Velcro the good experiences. This is challenging at times, especially when the bad is coming at you with increased speed.

My most painful of recent events was a death of somebody once very close to me. Our ways had parted and we both moved on with our lives, but I knew that we could talk, even if sporadically, exchange views on interesting things and help each other when needed. This chapter is now totally, definitely, painfully closed. I will not be able to exchange my impressions on Herman Hesse biography, that I just finished reading, with the big fan of the writer. And the book made a big impression on me and stirred me up. I will not find a warm homemade bread at my door, left for me as a surprise. 

Wow, I am getting too sentimental...

In a particularly challenging for me time, I had to part ways with an older person I had been supporting for some years . Dealing with rejection and ungratefulness was difficult for quite some time. I tried to find an explanation or a justification but eventually, not finding any satisfactory ones,  I had to except that one of the “beautiful friendships” has finished and I do not know why.

Corny? Yes, but cute.

I think it is time to stop listing my sorrows and focus on some lessons and compensations. Acceptance is the name of the game. We need to accept what we are dealt and play the game to the best of our abilities.  Like my favourite pastime – bridge - sometimes  we  have right cards for a game or even a slam at others cards are not good at all. Professional players do not get overly excited or upset, they just bid and play the best they can with the cards they have. Sometimes they lose even with the best of hand but they play on. If only I could be that philosophical always!

Once I have accepted the experience there is time for Reflection. This is what I am doing right now. New thoughts come to mind, new observations...sometimes even Learning. Then, there is time and opportunity for  Selection of Memories like creating a treasure chest of good memories. The chapters are closed, no new events will interfere and I am free to remember what I want without paying attention to memories  I want to blank out. This way I retain only the best of the past.   Is it realistic and will it work? I do not know, but I feel better already.

More on French Films Festival

I have access to internet and Blogger again! Hurray!  This means that I have been able to correct and update my previous post. Still not perfect, of course, but better.

I saw three more films in the French Films festival. Sex, Love and Therapy, The Easy Way Out and Diplomacy. Why did I buy tickets to the first film with such a provoking title? It was for Sophie Marceau. I saw a film with her last year in Poland. It was Chance Encounter, the film, described as “Irresistible charm played to perfection, was also shown in the Sydney festival. So was the Sex, Love and Therapy. Irresistible fluff about nothing played to perfection. If it was not so charming and not so French, I would be perhaps more critical. I had fun watching this irresistibly charming film about nothing. Don’t be deceived about the title. There was really no sex. It was done in a French way, with finesse, about sex, without sex scenes and very sexy. Sophie Marceau has a special talent to play sexy roles. When I asked for a male opinion about her I got an answer: She has a sultry look.  Yes, I agree, and she also has je ne sais quoi that makes her so attractive. I would like to see her one day in a serious role though. Can she do it? I wonder.

Isn't she lovely?

The second film has strong Belgian influence and now that I write about the film few days later after I saw it, I have difficulties to remember what it was all about. On reflection it was about three brothers and their love problems. A drama with an unhappy end. It is about relationships, that they are difficult and that “love and pity are not compatible”. Not very revealing.

The third film was the film that closed the festival - Diplomacy.  Very different to all the others I saw in the festival. This is a serious film about history of the II World War. The action takes place almost exclusively in one room with two major characters deciding future of Paris. It’s to be or not to be of Paris. While we all know the positive outcome of the negotiation, the film is gripping. Paris has survived in spite great sense of duty of its German governor  who was given orders to dynamite the town in August 1944. After disillusion with the Fuhrer, duty towards his family was stronger than to the army orders. The film starts with the pictures of destroyed Warsaw. It is shown it looked after the systematic demolition of the city after the August 1944 uprising. Paris could have looked the same if the diplomatic art of the Swedish consul did not convince the German governor.

 Horrific pictures of ruined Warsaw reminded me of my home country tragedy that influenced many generations. It is amazing how Warsaw managed to restore itself to the current look of a lively town with so many faithfully restored historical buildings. One would no think that the current Royal Castle was only a fragment of a jagged wall in 1976 when I left my town for Paris. When I came back to visit I found the Royal Castle instead of the wall.

Start of the castle demolishon

The job is done

               

Back to its glory

                         

I am so happy that Paris is still all original and that it did not suffer as it was planned.

Sydney French Films Festival

I like movies. Because of the company I keep in the recent times, I see movies quite often, at least once a week. In Sydney there is a natural preference to screen English speaking films. Typically they are American and less often English. Of course we get films of any nation but they need to be exceptionally good, often awarded with some international prize. However, once a year there is the French Films Festival in Sydney. Selected movie theatres show selected French speaking films. They are typically French but they can be also Canadian or Belgian.  Like the one film I saw this year – The Tokyo Fiancé.

For some years I ignored the festival remembering my Polish experience. Going to film festivals was such a hard work. You had to buy tickets for the whole festival and that meant all films, over 30 of them. The films were typically heavy, meaningful and very good.  Too much happiness, as for me, especially that there were five screenings per day and the festival lasted a week.  No rest for the wicked. I was a student then and could take one week break from the studies, no problem. However, this was serious overdosing on culture and after one experience I stayed clear of encores. Until now. The film festivals in Sydney differ. You can choose as many films as you wish and the duration of the festival is much longer. Three weeks or so. There are many films on the festival menu. I picked 9 of them expecting that were selected appropriately. I was very disappointed with the first film. It was The Gazelles, a romp of frustrated thirty something single women. On reflection I came to a conclusion that even if I did not like the form of the film the subject of relationships and friendship is always current. It was not my way to analyze it or show. The message was not that revealing in my opinion – relationships are difficult and messy, women friendships are supportive.

I was disappointed that selection of the films was not done better. I had to admit that it was me who chose the film not doing sufficient research. I could not blame anyone but I was disappointed and wondered what will the next films be like.

Fortunately it got better and better. The next film was In the courtyard. The story was moderately interesting or believable but it had a lot of humour of the kind I respond to.  A bit nonsensical, almost surrealistic and finesse was its strong point. Catherine Denevue  played a major role and she is always draws me to see film swith her. The action of the film takes place in a courtyard of a typical Parisian old buildings. Such buildings have a janitor, I prefer the word concierge, who lives in a flat close to the entrance and keeps and eye on what is going on in the buildings under his care and at times takes part in lives of the people living there.

During my year in Paris I lived in one of such buildings and the yard looked exactly the same as the one on the film. This reminded me of a story with a very French flavour. I am very tempted to write about it in one of my posts even if it should be rated 15+. Life in Paris is sometimes very saucy even for observers.

This is a bit shabby, neglected Parisian courtyard, similar to the one I knew so well. The one from the film was also more like this one. 

Exclusive versions look more like this one. Ah... it would be so great to go flaneuring in Paris again....Nostalgia kicked in.

Gemma Bovery was my definite favourite so far. A pastiche on Madame Bovary, again very funny.  Gemma Bovery was played by an epitome of sexiness. It was enough to see her just walk to have naughty thoughts. And this is a woman saying, I wonder what men would. Knowledge of the story of Madam Bovary, and generally knowledge literature was helping to get the finer points of the story and its humour.

Tokyo Fiancé  is a charming story, nicely played and apparently based on experience of the author of the book on which the film was based.

3 Hearts a great melodrama again with Catherine Denevue, this time in her elegant edition in contrast to her role In the Courtyard where she was positively dowdy but still beautiful in my eyes. I do not think this woman can help but to look beautiful even if she is over 70. The film was about 3 confused hearts that had problems with living with their romantic urges and choices. Two sisters and a rather uninteresting man are heroes of the story. The three women were played by three fascinating actresses – Catherine Denevue, Ciara Mastroianni and Charlotte Gainsbourg.  Ciara Mastroianni is a daughter of Catherine Denevue and Marcello Mastroianni and Charlotte Gainsbourg has also famous parents – Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg. Those two sang (or whispered?) song that was once well known - Je T’aime. The gossipy part is fun but I really enjoyed the film. It kept my attention and interest and if someone likes melodramas this is a well played and executed film.

I still have three more films to go and I am looking forward to it.

Catherine Denevue as she is today. Beautiful 71.

Two fim daughters of Catherine Denevue Ciara Masrtoianni who is a real daughter as well and Charlotte Gainsbourg only the film daughter 

                                            

Serendipity - Fortunate Happenstance

                                        

I am a left brain type of a person, quite rational, loving logic, type A. Enough for confessions or excuses for what is to follow. I just want to gain credibility as I am going to write about things that are difficult to explain logically, a bit woo woo. Events that are not causally related but are connected meaningfully are called Synchronicity. Synchronicity seems to be more mystical than serendipity.

Having time to observe events of my life and paying attention to links between some of them, I notice, sometimes almost miraculous connection among events. Serendipity happens. Even its stronger form Synchronicity happens.

A recent very happy event brought this subject and I feel that I want to tell the story.

Some years ago, I think it has been 6 or 7 years ago, I studied coaching and as a part of the course I was supposed to be a client of 12 coaching sessions. One of the options was to be coached by a fellow student. I took this option and found a person I liked the profile of and so I met Victoria. Victoria is a Brazilian girl who lived in Germany. I lived at that time in Gdansk and we both had some problems we wanted to solve with a help of a coach. Victoria was my coach and the sessions with her brought a lot of clarity on what I wanted and needed to be doing next to solve my problems. After a while I became Victoria’s coach and so our friendship was formed. Life went on; we graduated from our coaching academy, got our diplomas and moved on. Victoria to Shanghai of all places a Brazilian girl may want to live in and I back home to Sydney, as if home for a Pole was naturally in Australia.

In Shanghai Victoria met a man. She was looking for coaching assignments and experience. She met her career goals and the man turned out to be the One. This is a beautiful story with a happy end. What I find unusual is that when I first contacted Victoria, she lived in Frankfurt, I lived in Gdansk. We worked together but did not expect to ever meet. It was a cyber space part episode of life. Now, some years later I am invited to her wedding in Sydney where we both live. The world is definitely shrinking. I consider that at least a serendipity.

Where are my books now?

My obsession with books continued for many years and I accumulated a lot of them. Actually, I have not counted them and maybe there are not that many but after my last move from Gdansk to Sydney I was not able to unpack all of them. I could not find space on available shelves. My old bookcases disappeared in my travels; they did not seem to be good enough to travel the world with them. I saw them being crashed. This happens sometimes to our treasures. They stop to be treasures.

 I used any possible space to store my books - wardrobe, build in shelves in one of the rooms and unused fire place. Strange places for books? Yes, but in desperation this seemed to be good enough. I could at least see them. Some of the books stayed in boxes waiting for a bookcases or bookshelves to arrive one day. As it was difficult to organize quickly, I covered the boxes with a cloth and placed some ornaments on top of the covered pile. I decided that it looked good enough and forgot about it. Nobody commented looking at the boxes pretending to be a corner table. I myself forgot about them. And so time passed. Now and then I had some ideas how to solve the problem but they seemed to be difficult to put into practice. Those days it is very difficult if not impossible to find bookcases in furniture shops. There are display units with spacing between shelves not suitable for books. I decided that I will need to have something made to order and explored this possibility for some time. I either did not like quality of potential bookshelves or prices quoted. And time was passing.

The situation would have lasted for a long time yet if it was not for one helpful friend who rightly thought that I postponed the issue for much too long. I talked to her about my bookshelves projects too many times not making any progress. She was clearly fed up with hearing the story too many times and I realized that eventually I need to make a move or stop talking about it. Suddenly I had a brain wave. Why not buy an old bookcase. Antiques are at the moment completely out of fashion and this makes their prices really affordable. I did some internet searches and found something that looked acceptable. Old definition classifies an item over 100 years old as an antique. According to this definition selected by me bookcases are antique, beginning of the XXth century. Times moved on. It took one visit to an antique center in Sydney and my new-old bookcases were on their way to solve my problem. There were piles of books everywhere at my place for few days. I did a lot of dusting, polishing and vacuuming but I was happy amidst this horrible mess. I was re-discovering my old books, many of them I did not remember at all. Out of sight, out of mind.

Sorting the books I reminisced on periods in my life. There were times when I focused on positive thinking, management and leadership, spirituality, coaching, philosophy, psychology, antique and art. Not many novels amongst it all. Some from my younger years. Hmm… Does that make me a very boring Jack? Luckily, I found quite a few humorous books which I loved to read in my twenties. I hope that they had some positive influence on my psyche. I typically read more than one book at a time so I added a newly found fun book to the currently read ones. It balances my reading very nicely.

Now, most of my books are again on shelves and accessible and I have the feeling of succeeding with
one of my long postponed project. Ufff...

  There they are!