May is a great time in Paris, as it kicks off the free music season. It all begins with the annual Festival Jazz Saint-Germain-des-Prés, a fortnight-plus fiesta of all forms of the art from swing to gypsy to modern (“cool”) jazz in an assortment of concerts all over Paris (many of which are free). This year the festival starts today with concerts at the Luxembourg Gardens, at the Center for Irish Culture (a swing ball!), at the Oceanic Institute, at Starbucks, even at Orly airport. I will definitely dig the tributes to Sidney Bechet (Woody Allen’s favorite jazz artist) and Django Reinhardt. To see the festival’s entire lineup, head to the website and plan your jazz appreciation!

>more

It is the law in France that no street, square, or building may be named after a living person.

Mrs, Thatcher having passed away, a UMP – Union pour un Movement Populaire – councillor, Jérôme Dubus, motioned at a Paris municipal meeting that a street or square in Paris should be named after her: Rue or Avenue or Boulevard, or Place Margaret Thatcher. UMP is on the right, and it is the Party of former President Nicolas Sarkozy. It is no longer in power.

Immediately a FG – Front de Gauche – councillor, Aline Arrouze, made a counter proposal.

She wanted a street named after Bobby Sands, of the Provisional Irish Republican Army, who died in 1981 while being held in Her Majesty’s prison Maze. He died after a 66-day hunger strike over prison conditions and the removal of the ‘Special Category Status’ IRA prisoners had held. Mrs. Thatcher had refused to allow him to be force fed. The FG is, of course, on the left.

Said Deputy Mayor of Paris Pierre Schapira, who is a member of the Socialist Party, at the council meeting: “Bobby Sands died from a hunger strike that he made to denounce his imprisonment in the terrible conditions that Irish detainees faced, in which torture was regularly carried out by the British police. It was a hunger strike that Mrs Thatcher did not wish to bring to an end.”

The Socialist Party is in power in France, and also holds Paris City Hall. But Pierre Schapira, Deputy Mayor of Paris and a member of the Socialist Party, did not want to hear about a rue Bobby Sands.

“Every month there is something new. The last time it was the pope, and then Chavez,” he said, adding that France’s councillors must stop “using the dead for political ends.”

><a href=”http://www.marilynztomlins.com/articles/no-rue-margaret-thatcher-for-paris-also-no-rue-bobby-sands/” target=”new”>more</a>

The menu at L’Ecailler Du Bistrot is all seafood and it is decorated like a boathouse, with wooden boats and painted murals of shellfish. The chalkboard menu features daily catches and is loaded with a large selection of different oysters. In fact, one thing to know is that the French love oysters — they are as plentiful and taken as seriously as the baguette. You order oysters by the number, which represents the size of the oyster (No. 1, 2, 3, and 4) and the beach (e.g., Utah Beach).

As you walk into L’Ecailler, there will be a person on your left, working behind a sink and counter to prepare large plateaux (platters) of shellfish made to order. Some platters are so large that they take up whole table — a table of two next to us ordered a platter of 36 different oysters. This was their entire dinner. The platter was the size of a small car tire. I ordered a platter of different oysters, including Utah Beach vert (green), and some (crevettes rose) pink shrimp. Served on a platter of ice and fresh seaweed (for decoration), the oysters are so good they don’t need to be served with red vinegar or shallots — you eat them plain (or with a sprinkle of lemon, which is unnecessary). The Utah Beach vert oysters were particularly good, slightly briny but plain delicious, an excellent way to start a meal.

My wife, meanwhile, tried an appetizer of cold nems (these are similar to Asian eggrolls, but very light), stuffed with fresh crab (torteau). The crab was fresh and delicious – and a great light way to begin.

For our main dishes, I had scallops (coquille st. jacques), cooked in the shell, and topped with a little caviar. They were not browned at all, which I thought would be disappointing, but the fresh flavor of the scallops shined through. They came with pomme purée (buttered mashed potatoes), which were without a doubt some of the very best buttered mashed potatoes I have had in Paris, and anywhere — light, fluffy, but rich and buttery with a wonderful sprinkle of fresh ground pepper and fleur de sel (sea salt), that was simply divine.

22 Rue Paul Bert, 75011, (33) 01 43 72 76 77. Lunch and dinner, Tues. – Sat.

>more

Today, as usual, the market was full of foreign tourists gawking at the lovely food and product displays. As the vendeuse was cutting the stems and wrapping up the flowers (she gave me some foliage for free), I saw out of the corner of my eye a tall, impatient American man, identifable by his khaki pants and button-down shirt, but also by his attitude. While the florist was taking care of me, he had gotten more and more annoyed. The florist was aware of his annoyance but not of its cause and looked puzzled. Finally he just laid down his money, pointed at the lilies of the valley in his hand and said, “Pour les fleurs,” and flounced off.Enfin, he would have if he’d had flounces. The florist made big eyes at me and said, “What’s wrong with him?” and then shrugged her shoulders.

What was wrong? He didn’t know the rules of the marché. I didn’t either when I first came to France. So, for your viewing pleasure, here are a few!

At the height of the market, it will be crowded and you will have to wait your turn at popular, high-quality stands. If you are a customer, make a signal if the vendor doesn’t realize you’re not just a tourist staring. Then wait your turn. There may not seem to be a line, but there is. The French don’t love orderly queues. But the vendor notices who’s first, second and so on. If they make a mistake, it’s not usually out of malice toward tourists but because too many people are waiting. Sometimes there’s a long wait, that’s just how it is. When it’s your turn next, make a little signal with your hand. Whatever you do, don’t lose your temper. And remember to begin with Bonjour! and finish with Merci! Au revoir!

While you are waiting for your turn, don’t expect the merchant to pay you the least bit of attention. This is the problem my American man, at the beginning of this post, must have had. The vendeuse was completely ignoring him to focus on me– this is the polite, correct way for a vendor to behave in France. The American was expecting her to acknowledge him and in some way say “Don’t worry, you’re next,” or “I’ll be right with you.” But to the vendeuse, that would be rude to me.

>more

The multi-screen cineplex MK2 Bibliothèque (128 ave de France, 75013) now has a special “daycare” space Mon Petit MK2 for kids aged 4-10 years, with supervised play and workshops while parents are at the movies. It’ operated Saturdays, Sundays and holidays from 9:30am-1:30pm (yeah, it’s a morning thing), and costs €25 per child for 4 hours (parents get half off their movie tickets, too, just €4.90). Reserve in advance at monpetitmk2@mk2.com or 01 44 67 30 88.

>more

The recent release of two films starring Vincent Cassel about the notorious French killer, kidnapper, and bank robber Jacques Mesrine plunged me into an obsession for French criminals. So the timing was perfect (for me, at least) for Ravencrest Books to release Die in Paris: The True Story of France’s Most Notorious Serial Killer. (Full disclosure: Its author, Marilyn Z. Tomlins, contributes to this blog.) The 420-page true story did more than satisfy my blood lust; it gave me a deeper understanding of the horrors France suffered during the German Occupation of the early 1940s.

Marcel Petiot, a doctor who sold heroin and cocaine prescriptions on the side, padded his income by selling safe escape to South America to Jews fleeing Nazis. But, like the crooked lawyer in Paul Verhoeven’s 2006 film Black Book, Petiot was setting up his “clients,” pocketing not only the steep fee they paid for passage, but also the cash and jewels they took with them. He did this by killing them before any ship set sail.

Die in Paris begins with a gruesome discovery in the 16th arrondissement: some 60 bodies in various states of decomposition. The chop shop was a true chamber of horrors, with a stove specifically for burning corpses, and walls designed to accommodate syringes laden with deadly poison. I won’t reveal any more of the gory details, but will say only that Tomlins did extensive research to present a photographic depiction of Paris in the 1940s, and a man deeply disturbed from childhood on.

Like all too many police procedurals, the one involving Petiot suffered from bureaucratic hurdles. French cops had to run everything by their German oppressors, and even before they got wind of the murders, French citizens were reluctant to blow the whistle because Petiot was rumored to be killing Nazis and collaborators. Or runmored to be allied with the Germans. Either way, no one wanted to be involved, and so a shocking number of people knew about the fleshy pile-up in the tony 16th.

Die in Paris is every bit as luridly fascinating as the Mesrine double bill….except nothing here has been altered for the purposes of entertainment. It didn’t have to be.

In honor of Journée de l’Europe, the organization Jeunes Talents has put together an early evening of free concerts tonight featuring up-and-coming classical musicians from around Europe. With talents hailing from Lithuania to Italy to Bulgaria to Ireland, this special occasion appreciates and honors the beauty of youth, of music, and of the collection of diverse countries that we call Europe. Also, most of them look pretty attractive, so let’s celebrate that, too.

Every half hour from 5-7pm at Hôtel de Soubise, Archives Nationales
60 Rue des Francs Bourgeois, 75003

We don’t often think of Paris as a port city. But the city handles about 20 million tons of cargo a year, and with more than 7 million people travelling on the river each year, Paris is the leading river port in Europe for passenger transportation.

A hundred years ago, it was more than just passenger traffic. All kinds of products were shipped along the Seine: construction materials, farm products, fuel.

I gravitate to postcards of the working river and snap them up when I see affordable ones. Here is one of my favorites. Notice the white-shirted deckhand near the stern lowering the smokestack so that this boat can get under the Pont au Change (click to enlarge).

>more

A big thumbs-down goes to Harry’s New York Bar (it advertises itself as “Sank Roo Doe Noo” in the second arrondissement), which seems to be confusing itself with the Ritz Hemingway Bar. There is now a “hostess” at the door to enforce dress code, so when a dozen local expats tried to stop in for a drink recently after running in the #BostonStrongParis event (to show support for victims of the Boston Marathon bombings), we were rudely turned away for looking “offensive” in our running clothes, even though we calmly explained our cause and showed the ribbons and banners worn during the 100-strong person run through the streets of Paris.

Harry’s just seemed like the closest thing to a Boston-style bar in central Paris, and honestly it’s sad to discover they’re more interested in looking fashionable than in showing solidarity with a good cause. Unsurprisingly, I found out the next day that one of my clients walked out of there recently for being treated rudely by the barman (and he is an international traveler who speaks perfect French and used to go to Harry’s years ago, not some ignorant “plouc” in shorts).

>more

It’s finally nice weather, and in Paris that means… demonstrations! Last week, besides the usual daily manifs, we had big pro- and anti-gay marriage demonstrations, before and after the French lawmakers passed the Mariage pour tous [marriage for all] act into law. Walking home down Avenue Montaigne (no, I don’t live there) the next day, I heard a lot of music and noise and noticed that the avenue was blocked off. This time it was Armenians, marching to protest the negation by modern Turkey of the Armenian genocide in the 1910s. There are a lot of Armenians in Paris and an Armenian Orthodox church is nearby. Normally the Paris authorities don’t allow manifs in touristy areas during the week, but obviously the Armenians were thought to be well-behaved.

The beginning of the march was cheerful with singing and flag-waving and little children in uniform (probably Armenian scouts. In France, Scouting tends to be far from inclusive: there are Muslim, Jewish, Communist, traditional Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant scout groups). At the end, there were young people carrying a long banner and loudly shouting “Justice! Assassins! Justice! Assassins!” Well-dressed Chinese, Japanese and American tourists stood on the sidewalk, mystified.

>more