Au Cochonnet Marin

“Impressionism: a style or movement in painting originating in France in the 1860s, characterized by a concern with depicting the visual impression of the moment, especially in terms of the shifting effect of light and color.”

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You cannot talk about Impressionism without mentioning Claude Monet, and you cannot talk about Claude Monet without alluding to Giverny.

Giverny is a small town (50 miles Northwest of Paris) on the right bank of the Seine River, where Monet resided from 1883 until his death in 1926 and where he created a series of about 250 oil paintings called Nympheas (Water Lilies).

The name Impressionism by the way derives from a Monet painting named Impression, soleil levant (Impression, Sunrise) which incidentally was not well received by the critics. It strayed too much from the classicism favored by the very conservative French Académie des Beaux-Arts and was repeatedly refused entry to the prestigious Salon de Paris.

 Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Alfred Sisley, and Frédéric Bazille were at the forefront of the Impressionist Movement and fought hard to have their work recognized and exhibited.

Sensitive to public opinion, Emperor Napoleon III created the Salon des Refusés (Salon of the Refused) to allow the Impressionists to showcase their work.
Thousands of visitors flocked to the exhibit… and laughed their heads off. Critics and public alike unanimously ridiculed the show.
But the uproar created by this event helped to legitimize and empower this revolutionary form of art.

 If you harbor any cultural pretention, it would be unforgivable to visit Paris without calling on Giverny.

From the 1st of April to the 1st of November, more than 500,000 people each year visit Claude Monet’s house and garden AND incidentally an adjacent restaurant appropriately named Les Nymphéas.

Nothing but pictures can adequately describe the splendor of Monet’s garden in the spring.

Click on “My Photos” and judge for yourself.

Alain

When I get up, like millions of my peers I routinely slip my iPhone in my pocket and go about my business.
We have become so used hooked to its re-assuring presence that if we happen to leave home without it, we will feel perturbed for the rest of the day.

When I went to Europe, I decided that I could not live a single day without my faithful assistant and I put my mini-Jeeves in my travel kit.

In America, I routinely use Google Maps, WhatsApp and Translate and I wanted to keep using these handy applications (“no habla Español”) abroad.

But this is not as simple as you would imagine.

To use your iPhone outside the US, you will need a different SIM (Subscriber Identity Module) card and your phone has to be unlocked.
When I arrived in France, I dutifully went to an Orange store (a French telecommunications corporation) to acquire the (40€) required nano chip.
A glib salesman convinced me that this chip would work in France in Spain or all over Europe for that matter.
I was delighted to find out how simple the process was.
Unfortunately, as I discovered in Spain, this is not true. You will (probably) need a different SIM card for each different country that you will visit.

When you insert a tiny new SIM card in your phone, you are assigned a new local phone number. A small inconvenience compared to the benefits of continuing to use all the features of your smartphone.
My phone worked well in France, but upon landing in Barcelona I discovered that my precious assistant refused to work (it probably caught a virus in strike-prone France). Like a true-blue French striker it adamantly refused to do anything.

I went to another Orange store in Barcelona and acquired a new SIM card. The phone worked for a few days and went on strike again. The subsequent Orange people consulted (no habla Ingles) could not figure out what was wrong.

So I went pitifully without a phone for a few days. Ô rage ! ô désespoir ! ô technologie ennemie…

Upon returning to America, I re-inserted the original SIM card in my phone hoping that everything would go back to normal. Wishful thinking, but it didn’t. A phone I learned doesn’t like to be abused.
No matter what I did (or what Verizon tried) my phone refused to connect to the Internet.

I went to the local Apple store to seek help.
At first the specialist couldn’t figure out what was wrong and finally resolved to reset the phone as an entirely new entity.
He asked me for my Apple password and my Google password. Since I have over 100 convoluted passwords in my digital strongbox and cannot remember any of them I could not oblige.
He sent me home with the understanding that if I provided the required passwords and the Apple Verification Key, my phone (like Lazarus) might come back to life.

At home, after a few well-chosen incantations and the sacrifice of a cockroach it did. “Praise Yahweh!”

Using Translate I can now understand again the sweet nothings that my wife is whispering (or yelling) into my ear.

Siri, get the cat in!

Alain

The Seine, is a 777 kilometers (483 mi) long river originating 30 kilometers (19 mi) northwest of Dijon in northeastern France. It flows through Paris and eventually ends into the English Channel.
The Seine has been sung by countless troubadours through the ages and is one of the most romantic rivers in the world. It is usually a peaceful navigable waterway (often favored by seagulls and swans) that seldom causes any problem.

But due to relentless rain, last week the level of the river rose to 6.1m (20ft) above its normal height overnight, and bridges were closed and boats were banned from going through.

There are 37 colorful bridges in Paris over the Seine River, some (le Pont Neuf) dating back to 1607.

Less than 2 weeks ago I took a cruise on the river to re-acquaint myself with the iconic sites of the French capital, never thinking for a minute that this would become impossible in the following days.

But the unimaginable happened. The level of the water reached the waist of the Zouave statue on the Pont de l’Alma, indicating that it was indeed in a flood condition.

Much of the art in Paris is kept in underground storage rooms and the Louvre museum bordering the river scrambled to evacuate its priceless pieces of art.

Since 2002, an event called Paris-Plages has been held every summer on the Paris banks of the Seine. It transforms for a short time the paved banks of the river into a sandy beach with facilities for sunbathing and entertainment.

It will undoubtedly happen again, but for the time being the banks are under water and forlorn lovers are desperately seeking different romantic locations for smooching sessions.

From my own experience, the Luxembourg garden is a good alternative.

Alain

PS: Like the Hudson river, the Seine is also a popular site for both suicides and the disposal of murder victims bodies.

To look at photos of this event and listen to the accompanying background music, turn your computer’s sound on, and click on the link “My Photos” located on the right side of this page. For best viewing, go Full Screen.