Nuit Blanche, Saturday in Paris

Saturday, 6 October, 2007 was the day of the white night, or nuit blanche, a reference to so many lights being left on I suppose, and many more lights turned on just for this one night. In fact this is the one night out of the year when many of the city's museums are open late into the night, many shops are open late and, well, there are just all sorts of things going on in the city until the wee hours of the morning.

In keeping with the Parisian penchant for high-tech, the events of nuit blanche could be easily accessed through the official website. There one could find a map of the city listing all the events by area and then you could pick and choose based on whatever part of the city you planned to spend the most time in. For us, Susan, me and Diane, our friend from Oregon, since we planned on having dinner near the Arc de Triomphe in western Paris we plotted a route of things to see that would take us back in the direction of our apartments in eastern Paris.

The day began for Susan and I with a stroll along the top of the Viaduct des Arts, called the Promenade Plantée simply because it is one long beautiful stroll amidst a garden that was once a train track set high over the street. The trains had long since stopped running and the city eventually acquired the property in the 1980s, running parallel to rue Daumesnil, turning into a long garden. Diane, our friend from Oregon, first told us about the promenade and I explored a bit of it on Friday. On Saturday Susan and I explored pretty much the entire length of the promenade, following it down to the Jardin Reuilly, onto the Allee Vivaldi and past the old Gare Reuilly (now a city cultural center), back onto the Promenade and through the old railroad cut and underneath a series of tunnels heading southwest toward the periphery of Paris proper.

At the end of our stroll we found our way to the Metro and eventually to our apartment where we changed clothes, wrapped up some laundry chores and got ready for the long night ahead.

Susan and I left home a little after 3 pm and made our way to the Bastille where we caught the no. 1 Metro for the Hotel de Ville. From there it was only a couple of short blocks to Saint Gervais church where we connected up with Diane for a free organ concert. The music was all Baroque and focused (we understood) mostly on the work and style of Dietrich Buxtehude. Susan recalled with a smile how how mother used to play Buxtehude when she would practice the organ for their church back in Michigan.

After an hour or so of some wonderful music (see photo above), the three of us left the church, found our way to the Metro -- and discovered that it was starting to get crazy already with tourists and locals all moving from one place to another, probably as a run-up to the night's events ahead. Anyway we took the number 1 to the 13 at Clemenceau. I warned our group about there were problems with the no. 13 stopping and starting (twice I have been thwarted in my efforts to take the no. 13 north to St. Denis).

We eventually got off at Pernety and there right before us was our objective: the Bar Au Metro, home of the beer and peach prosecco drink. (They apparently also served Bernaise frites, French fries in Bernaise sauce, which sounded absolutely delicious.) At first the waiter wanted to put us directly beneath the huge TV screen, thus completing a circle of heavy smokers. We said thanks but we'd rather sit outside. "Oh, non," reservations only. We compromised on a table right on the margin of outside/inside.

Susan and Diane ordered a medium glass of beer and I, thinking that a medium wasn't quite manly enough, ordered the "grande, si vous plait." A few minutes later they brought out two medium-sized plastic cups -- this was in effect a sports bar but with really good food -- and one barrel of beer designed apparently for a platoon of Marines. That was, of course, my grande.

After conversation and people watching -- and deciding that ten gallons of beer was simply too much for me -- we headed to the metro and back north on the no. 13 (stop. . . go. . . stop) until we returned to Clemenceau where we exited.

Since we had a few minutes to kill before our dinner reservations we crossed the Champs Élyssés and walked into the new, very cool and very modern Citroen store.

The French car makers all have a presence on the Champs Élyssés. These are not dealerships mind you but simply spaces where the manufacturers put their money where their imagination is, to show off their cars. And they usually do it up very right.

Citroen was no exception.

The building was maybe six floors high and each level had a car on a revolving circular plate -- we wondered how they got the cars there in the first place -- and the entire space was open from basement level to the very top floor. We took the elevator up and walked down, following in essence the history of the Citroen from top to bottom; on the ground floor was their latest concept car.

I cannot begin to describe how cool this all was. Even if you're not into cars this is one of the two reasons to come to this part of Paris (the other being the Arc of course).

After leaving Citroen we turned the first corner onto rue du Colisee and there was our restaurant, L'Appart, where we had a delicious meal, sitting among primarily French speaking clientele (young people, families). Reasonably priced, good food and fine service.

By the time we finished eating darkness had set in and nuit blanche was in full swing.

The three of us strolled down the Champs Élyssés away from the Arc, and stopped into the Petit Palais, one of the numerous museums open late this evening. None of us had been in here before and we strolled around for a while taking in the very eclectic mix of art in this truly gorgeous building.

From the Petit Palais we headed toward the Tuileries, passing by the well-lit ferris wheel and on into the gardens.

Here we were met by apparently the population of half of Europe all wandering around in the semi-darkness trying to grasp the meaning of life or death or just what was happening. and what was happening was the gardens were lit by fires: large braziers set in the middle of the promenade running the length of the gardens, with smaller ones on the sidelines and then a variety of moving metal sculptures in the pools and fountains, each lit with their own fire.

On we walked past one fire after another, with people of all shapes, sizes, colors, ages each trying to find a part of themselves amidst the flames; having their pictures taken by a series of fires strung along ropes, or by the metal chimneys with runic designs cut into the sides.

Is this what pre-christian Paris was like I wondered?

We left the Tuileries and found ourselves at the Louvre where there was quite a queue of folks waiting to get in -- on the way we noticed the lights on at the Musee d'Orsay as well.

Needless to say our nuit blanche was coming to an end. The three of us walked over toward the Metro at the Palais Royal where there was a video installation in progress: trance music set to abstract video or was it the other way around? It didn't matter at this point. We walked down the stairts into the underground and boarded the number 1 line heading toward the Bastille, where Susan and I said bonne nuit to Diane. The two of us then headed off down rue de la Roquette toward Place Leon Blum and home.

Wish you had been there,

Steve