The permanent collection is astounding because of the number of objects on display (over 3500!) and their beauty and diversity.  The visitor sees such a range of items:  immense wooden totem poles which make you wonder how they were ever transported to the site; masks, statues and earthenware; carved combs, canes and oars; beautiful silken shawls and wedding dresses; gold earrings and necklaces.  I was particularly impressed with a series of art works made from the bark of trees, seemingly pounded into a kind of paper and then meticulously decorated with ink.  The overall impression one gets is that of everyday objects fashioned with care.  Groups of small schoolchildren and their teachers seemed to be fascinated examining various items like African masks in the display cases and walking around the large wooden totems on the museum floor.

The museum’s property also includes a gift shop and a lovely garden with many different types of plants and trees.  There is also a cafe where we enjoyed a delicious lunch the day before flying back to the U.S.; I particularly liked my Asian salad.  If we had had time, we would’ve gone back in to see the special exhibit on jazz.  Quai Branly is a treasure trove and definitely worth a visit.

The guide explained to our group that the area first belonged to the Church but that it was purchased by the state in the early nineteenth century under the reign of Napoléon Bonaparte. In order to make the immense but somewhat remote memorial park more appealing to Parisians, the government had the supposed remains of famous people transferred to the location. Visitors can see the graves of celebrated medieval lovers Héloïse and Abélard, and seventeenth century writers Molière and La Fontaine. The graveyard has become so popular that now families can only “rent” spaces for thirty to fifty years, but the time can be renewed.

Before the tour started, we were fortunate enough to be sitting on a bench when a photographer came up to take a picture of a tombstone near us. He told us that some of the most prominent artists since the nineteenth century had created bustes, médaillons, statues, and stèles for the graves at the various cemeteries around Paris. There is, for example, a Rodin medallion of Belgian composer César Franck in Montparnasse; yet, he explained, the bust of author Balzac in Père Lachaise was not done by Rodin. He suggested that we visit a nearby medallion which he was particularly fond of by Auguste Préault called Le Silence.

Naturally, many tourists come to pay their respects to some of the international celebrities of the past two centuries, from German painter Max Ernst to Irish writer Oscar Wilde. Americans are well represented, such as writers Richard Wright, Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, soprano Maria Callas, dancer Isadora Duncan, and The Doors rocker Jim Morrison. For those interested in classical music, there are monuments to both Chopin and Rossini, though the latter’s grave is a cenotaphe moderne, simply a monument since his remains now lie in Italy. The tombs of singers Édith Piaf, Gilbert Bécaud, and actors Sarah Bernhardt, Yves Montand and Simone Signoret can be found at the cemetery. The guide pointed out that Mother Nature, aided by modern day pollution, plays havoc with the monuments; moss grows on the stones and tree roots upset them. But it is still a beautiful place to visit.

From there it was a short bus ride to la place de la République and le canal Saint-Martin. The canal, originally built in 1825, was designed along with other similar structures to bring fresh water into the city. Today there is still some boat traffic on the four and a half kilometer waterway, but most of it is apparently to carry tourists through the various locks and dams to the Seine. Beside the canal we came upon l’Hôtel du Nord, which was identically reproduced on a stage set in the 1930s by Marcel Carné for his movie of the same name. Whence the famous line of actress Arletty: « Atmosphère ? Atmosphère ? »

After a very nice lunch on a beautiful day with the professor whose presentation we translated in February, we took le métro back to the 14e where our hotel is located. From the subway station we walked through the cimetière Montparnasse. A small crowd was gathered at the tomb of Sartre and Beauvoir; some ladies were filling up watering cans for the flowers on their family’s graves. We spent a little time on this lovely day wandering the well-kept alleys looking for the gravesites of famous people like singer Serge Gainsbourg and authors Maupassant and Baudelaire. Paris has so much to offer and we were happy to be exploring for several days to come.

On our final Saturday night la Cave Coopérative held another of its famous get-togethers. This one, la Fête de la vigne et du vin, is actually a department-wide event taking place in more than 60 caves of the Vaucluse. Bédoin’s version of the festivities included ATV buggy rides through the vines and a visit to the bottling assembly line. We were more interested in the 16-euro apiece dinner, which included une assiette provençale, consisting of saucisson (“salami”), pâté, jambon cru (“prosciutto”), salade, cornichons (“pickles”) and green and black olives. The main dish was followed by a cheese course, and finally a dessert of fresh strawberries in red wine with crème chantilly (“whipped cream”). There was a live band, playing mostly American music, and of course, being at the cave, the dinner was bien arrosé with lots of local wines. We had fun talking to the people sitting next to us: a young social worker from Zurich who had just returned from climbing Mont Ventoux on his bike and a nice vintner and his wife from Bédoin who made a special trip inside the cave to get a chèvre cheese for us.

We also revisited some of the restaurants in the vicinity that we enjoyed over the past few months, two of them being right on the main street in town. Both have very friendly équipes working there and offer good, relatively inexpensive meals. Le Grillon is a small place whose name, I believe, is a play on the verbe griller, rather than on the word cricket. The chef, who comes from a restaurant family, grills your supper in front of you on a wood fire in an elevated fireplace. We’ve had some lovely meals there including a tasty salade au chèvre chaud (“warm goat cheese salad”), a grilled dorade (“sea bream”), une marmite de poisson—a fish soup—, and brochette de canard (“duck shishkabab”). All were very good, but the best was Ray’s travers de porc, a grilled pork sparerib with spices that made it taste like barbecue. Yum! Another place we like in town is the Hôtel l’Escapade’s restaurant. We’ve had appetizers like des cuisses de grenouille (“frogs legs”) and barigoule aux artichauts (artichoke hearts served with prosciutto). Some of our main dishes there included for Ray pieds et paquets (you don’t really want to know!) and for me a very delicious cuisse de canard (“duck leg”).

My favorite eating place around, and possibly throughout the whole trip (though others were close), is in Carpentras: La Petite Fontaine. Small with a limited menu, this restaurant serves up delicious meals every time. On our first visit there I had fresh asparagus with a green onion sauce as a first dish, followed by wonderful Saint-Jacques (“scallops”) with a chive sauce which was well worth the 5-euro supplement we had to pay. On our second trip we both had the 17-euro menu: a half of a small, grilled eggplant topped with mozzarella slices and fresh tomato; as a main course, Ray had une cuisse de pintade (“guinea fowl”—whatever that is) and I got a great piece of grilled tuna. So there you have some meals to enjoy vicariously!

During Pax Romana, the time of peace and prosperity with the Gauls, the Romans created many buildings in the colony they called Arausio. There is an Arc de Triomphe on the outskirts of town, which is currently undergoing restoration. The crowning achievement of Roman architecture in the city is the antique theater. For a small fee, fee, visitors can take a self-guided tour with audiophones of this 1st century structure built during the reign of Augustus. The theater has one of the best conserved murs de scène (“stage walls”) in the world; according to our audioguide only in Syria and Turkey could you also find such an impressive relic from Roman times. The sight of it in the seventeenth century prompted King Louis XIV to exclaim: « C’est la plus belle muraille de mon royaume. » (“It’s the most beautiful wall in my kingdom.”)

The theater, we learned, used to have statues in all of its niches, marble facing on the walls, several rows of columns, and mosaics decorating it. The sitting area, called the cavea, provided room for about 8000-10000 spectators, seated according to their status in society; the orchestra, in a semicircle on the ground, had room for moveable seats for the highest-ranking dignitaries. On the uppermost tiers sat prostitutes and beggars. All of the presentations were free of charge and a kind of tarp, a velum, stretched across the top of the theater to protect spectators from the sun. After the so-called “barbarian invasions” and the 16th century wars of religion, the theater fell into disrepair; houses were even constructed inside it. But thanks to author Prosper Merimée, a restoration project was launched in 1825. Only the first three rows of seats are original and in 2006 a glass and metal roof was built to protect the stage wall and to add lighting. Placed on the list of Worldwide Heritage Sight by UNESCO. International music festivals, currently called Les Nouvelles Chorégies, have been presenting symphonies and operas every summer since 1869. Plays have been staged at the theater as well; Sarah Bernhardt, for example, performed the role of Racine’s Phèdre in 1903. The day we were there several groups of young people were trying out the theater’s great acoustics by reading to their friends who were in the upper part of the stands.

We were well aware that the yearly Festival de Cannes 2009 was in full swing, meaning traffic and people galore. So we grabbed the first underground parking lot we could find near la Croisette, the city’s seaside boulevard. Our first sight upon exiting le parking was of hundreds of huge yachts in the marina and, looking out on them, white tents with what seemed like conferences going on. Not a bad location, but potentially distracting for those attending! The crowds were enormous, especially as we neared the Palais des festivals et des congrès, where the films are shown and judged. Again there were white tents with signs indicating the American delegation, etc. , this time inside a fence. Security was extremely tight, though the guards were nattily dressed in beige suits instead of uniforms to fit the stylish occasion, I suppose. As far as what really goes on in Cannes, I have barely a clue. I know that it’s practically impossible for the average person to get a ticket and actually see a film there. The festival is mainly a meeting place for producers, sales agents, distributors, and buyers from all over the world. Apparently anyone can submit a film and a good judgment by the international jury can launch a filmmaker’s career.

A little further down the boardwalk we passed some lovely hotels with their private beaches and matching umbrellas across the street. The majestic, early twentieth century Hôtel Carlton, whose façade was classified as a monument historique in 1989, still draws le jet-set and people like French actress Sophie Marceau who was staying in a room named after her. Just past the Carlton, we came upon l’Hôtel Martinez where photographers and tourists were grouped, apparently waiting for stars like Eva Longoria and Tony Parker who were staying there to exit the building. After a lunch of Lebanese food, we continued down la Croisette where there was another marina, more outrageously impressive yachts and the lovely Parc de la Roseraie, full of roses in bloom.

Thursday morning we took a beautiful ride west along the coast to get to Saint-Tropez. Although the town was swarming with cars and people, reminding us a little of summer in Cape Cod, the population at this time of the year is no where close to the 80,000 or so tourists who invade the resort in the month of August alone! A large group of visitors were grouped beside le Vieux Port waiting for an enormous, gray yacht to retract its gangplank and set out to sea. The harbor itself was filled with all kinds of water craft, including some small, traditional wooden fishing boats called des pointus. We circled the port and then followed le sentier du littoral, a coastal footpath right on the water’s edge. It is easy to understand the attraction of Saint-Tropez; it is a very clean, pretty city in a lovely setting with many expensive shops and several four-star hotels. Lunch was enjoyable, chatting with a Parisian couple about food, wine, and what to see in town. We took their advice and walked by the place des Lices, a vast square bordered by plane trees, where the twice-weekly marché is held. Then we drove up to la chapelle Sainte-Anne, located on top of a hill in a lovely park surrounded by cypress, pine, and oak trees. The chapel, built to thank God for sparing the town from the plague in 1720, offers a fine panorama of le golfe de Saint-Tropez and the neighboring city of Sainte-Maxime.

Sainte-Maxime, by the way, was in the news on May 8th because French president Nicolas Sarkozy celebrated the anniversary of the victory in Europe there. Just about everywhere we went along the coast on this trip, in fact, we were reminded of le débarquement de Provence in August 1944 and the sacrifices made by the Allies in World War II. We noticed monuments to the war dead and even what appeared to be an American landing craft in the town of Le Dramont, just outside of Saint-Raphaël.

Our final activity for the day was to drive up to the ancient, fortified village perché of Grimaud. Named after the Grimaldi family which presently rules la principauté de Monaco, the town has beautiful architecture, as well as spectacular views of countryside and the Mediterranean. We climbed up to the ruins of the eleventh century castle, destroyed in 1655 at the end of les guerres de religion on the orders of le cardinal Mazarin because of the town’s Protestant leanings.

Since the early 1990s there has been a lot of talk about the so-called “French Paradox,” a term coined by scientist Serge Renaud in Bordeaux. What is paradoxical is that the average French person consumes much more butter, cheese, cream, and pork than an American, but that the incidence of death from coronary heart disease is much lower in France. Research for a while pointed to the consumption of red wine and, more recently, of any type of alcoholic beverage as the main reason for this inconsistency. And while many of us would love for a glass of Burgundy to solve any potential problems with our arteries, people who drink more than in France— in countries like Luxembourg and Germany—don’t reap the same health benefits. But what if the answer to the riddle has nothing to do with food? What if something else is the basis for the heart fitness of the French? Obviously, what I offer here has no basis in scientific study, just musings on one possible explanation for the paradox.

A huge difference that I see between Americans and the French is that they are not as tied to the clock as we are. They have an expression l’heure, c’est l’heure (roughly, “on time is on time”), but, from what I can tell, hardly anyone abides by it! I often tell the story about a job interview I once had in the Lyon area. I needed to take a long bus ride to get to the place and showed up 45 minutes behind schedule. Naturally, I went into the office all apologetic, but the man interviewing me said that I wasn’t late! Now maybe that was unusual, especially in an employment situation, but we’ve seen the same scenario in other contexts time and time again. Merchants don’t rush to open their doors right on the dot, and the same is true at closing time.

Another time-related issue has to do with dining out. When French people go out to eat, supper is the entertainment for the evening. Leisure time is not on a hectic schedule, as it is for many Americans. Many of us rush to the restaurant, and then dash off to see a play or a movie afterwards. Here, hours are spent leisurely enjoying a meal at the dinner table. In fact, a recent study showed that the French spend more time eating and sleeping than in any other nation in the world. Se la couler douce (“taking life easy ) doesn’t mean trying to squeeze in as much activity as possible in the time you have.

I’ve written about greetings before on this blog, but can’t resist mentioning again that people here take the time to acknowledge others. The cashiers at Shopi, our town supermarket, greet each of their customers, speak to them, and help them if necessary, no matter how long the line is, which can be frustrating for us impatient American types! On buses, too, we’ve seen the driver say bonjour and au revoir to every single person on board, even if twenty or so people are all getting off at the same stop. At any rate, whatever the answer is to the French paradox, I’m convinced that it does not just boil down to one thing. I believe it is a lifestyle, an attitude toward living, as well as the fruits, vegetables, olive oil, and wine that they so like to consume.

As much as I love food and eating out, it may surprise you to learn that my list doesn’t include dinner at La Tour d’argent, le Jules Verne, or other restaurants étoilés from le Guide Michelin. (Although if staying at the l’Hôtel Plaza Athénée I could just go downstairs to Alain Ducasse’s restaurant…hmmmm, let me think that one over.) What I’d really like to do is take a food tour of Paris, like the ones presented by Canadian Stephanie Curtis, translator of Paul Bocuse’s cookbooks. For about 120€, which I believe includes lunch, she takes groups on a tour of Rungis (the big central food market that replaced Les Halles), or le marché biologique on boulevard Raspail, or outdoor markets at la place Monge or la rue Mouffetard. I suppose we could visit these locations on our own, but we certainly wouldn’t learn as much as with such a tour guide. Another food-related fantasy that I have concerns deluxe cooking schools. Last summer I’d picked up a secondhand copy of On Rue Tatin, which tells of Susan Herrmann Loomis’s adventures at a culinary school in Paris and buying a house in la Haute-Normandie. She now holds cooking classes in Paris and in her small town of Louviers, south of Rouen. Another ex-patriot, cookbook author Patricia Wells, offers similar lessons in Provence and Paris.

But, let’s face it…the life I’m living is pretty nice the way it is. So, I’ll be content to discover gourmet spots in Paris for thirty euros or just pay twelve euros for an English-speaking walking tour of the city. And if I really want to learn how to be a better cook there are places like Comme des chefs at 106, rue de Sèze in Lyon where for 40€ a chef teaches you to prepare exotic sushi or Thaï dishes to bring home for two.

One thing you notice right away is how prosperous the city looks. Well-dressed citizens, beautiful architecture, shops selling fur coats, Dior clothing, Cartier jewelry, or Louis Vuitton luggage. What we didn’t realize is that Lyon has been an affluent area for centuries. The Office du tourisme, located in the city center on Place Bellecour , offered a nine-euro visit of le vieux Lyon Renaissance that we took advantage of. One of our first stops was to see la Cathédrale Saint Jean and its fourteenth century horloge astronomique. This famous clock tells not only the time, but shows the season, the zodiac sign, and the yearly and ecclesiastical calendar; a mechanism adding the minutes was inserted in the 1600s. At 2:59 we watched as the angel on the left began the process by turning un sablier (“an hourglass”) back and forth in his hand. L’ange Gabriel then came out on the right to announce to Mary that she was to be the mother of Jesus, while Dieu le père (“God the Father”), dressed in red, nodded his approval from up above. Our tour guide, an Austrian woman named Anneliese, pointed out that not many cities could afford such a device. Wealth came early to Lyon mainly by way of des foires (“fairs”) which brought 4,000 to 6,000 vendors from all over Europe several times a year to sell everything from textiles to spices. This led to the development of banking and printing industries in the city.

Along with an increase in riches came a corresponding increase in population. Our tour then concentrated on the well-known cours intérieures (“inner courtyards”) , escaliers à vis (“spiral staircases”), and loges that were built to accommodate all of the people in the old part of the city. Apparently several twentieth century mayors wanted to raze le vieux Lyon in favor of more modern housing but were stopped by resident associations and author André Malraux, who served as ministre des Affaires Culturelles in the early 1960s. We also traveled through des traboules (from the Italian transambulare, “to travel across”), long passageways which enabled inhabitants to go from one street to another and served to hide people familiar with the system during the German Occupation in World War II.

La fête du travail, which is held every May 1st, is a national holiday, the equivalent of Labor Day in the United States. Great for all workers, not so great for travelers since there is no public transportation and not many businesses are open. Lucky for us, however, Lyon has an spacious and beautiful park, le Parc de la Tête d’or (“Golden Head Park,” so named because of a legend involving the buried golden head of Christ, which has never been found). We had a lovely day walking around the zoo, the lake, and flower gardens, as well as having lunch in one of the outdoor cafés on the property. All in all, it was a wonderful visit to Lyon, whose new motto “Only Lyon” is a play on the letters of its name.