Saturday morning began clear and cool promising good weather for strolling through Paris with Susan's sister Joyce. Our plan was to show her the icons of this city from the ground level. Yesterday we had given her a chance to see Paris from the riverside, a sort of big picture view of historic Paris, the Paris that most casual visitors see for the first time. Now we wanted her to see those same sights but a bit more closeup, where you can actually touch the marble, walked the streets and get a feel for the city's energy. (photo: Cafe Med on the Isle St. Louis.)
So after a leisurely morning of muffins and coffee we headed out about 11 or so, strolling through up the rue St. Hilaire to the Jardin des Plantes, then over to the Seine and walked along the quai until we reached Notre Dame. Crossing over to the Isle de la Cite we went straight to very eastern tip of the island, to the Memorial de la Deportation, the memorial to the 200,000 Jews deported from France to Nazi death camps.
The memorial was closed for lunch (apparently) and so we strolled over to the Isle St-Louis and walked down the rue Isle St-Louis, just enjoying the quiet sights of Paris: the marionette shop, the chocolate shops, the funky art galleries. We stopped for a delicious lunch at the Cafe Med and just relaxed and chatted, letting the afternoon drift away. Although we hadn't even cracked the surface of our "planned" stroll it already felt as if we had spent hours showing Joyce the city. And we still had so much more to show her!
We paid the bill and left the cafe and the Isle St-Louis, walking across the small bridge to the other island. After having my backpack inspected by the guard at the Memorial de la Deportation and waiting for several people to come up and out of the memorial (only so many are permitted to enter at any one time) we were allowed to walk down the stairs and onto the small, barren triangular courtyard, where we found ourselves surrounded by walls of cold stone, broken only by the bright blue sky overhead.
At one end an iron grate through which you can see the water of the Seine lapping upon the tip of the Isle de la Cite; at the other a narrow slice through rock which leads into the central chamber where the heart of the memorial rests.
The space is evocative of the profound anguish suffered so many at the hands of so many others whose brutish and ignorant natures drove them to inflict the ultimate harm: taking of a life and the taking away all human dignity, denying both the victim and themselves the freedom of the soul.
Ever since first seeing the memorial some years ago I have had mixed feelings about it: there is no question it is powerful, poignant and striking in the extreme. Still, it is 'tucked away", out of sight. Yes, it is in a prime location to be sure but it is also buried away virtually unnoticeable and, as we discovered Friday afternoon, largely forgotten in some quarters. That day, as our little river cruise boat sailed past the Isle de la Cite and the tour guide was running through her script about the island, in French and then in English, she failed to make any mention of the memorial whatsoever. As the boat rounded the tip of the island one would not even guess what was on the other side of that small bit of iron grating which sat at the end of the island like the prow of a ship.
(Curiously, that same Friday morning on our way out Charles de Gaulle airport the train we were on stopped at Drancy, a dreary looking, industrial suburb in northeastern Paris, but which history will always remember as the place where the Jews were collected before sent on to the death camps in the east.)
As you exit the memorial you rise up, as if from the dead and find yourself in s alovely little bit of green space facing the Seine with the enormous counterpoint of Notre Dame as the backdrop.
Stay tuned!
Wish you were here,
Steve
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