On the streets of Paris, you find the strangest things… but why only Paris? It’s true of any city, I guess? This one was a bridal portfolio in progress and I love the way everyone all around is doing their own thing.
Also see: Friday photo series
Tag Archives: Paris
Angel in disguise
Shakespeare and Company is a bookstore in Paris where one feels like being in one’s own apartment, just exactly how founder George Whitman wanted it to be, says Charukesi Ramadurai
George Whitman liked to call himself the Don Quixote of the Latin Quarter. His windmills were the faceless bookstore chains and one-size-fits-all websites that threatened the existence of a bookshop like his, and even the famous bouquinistes (sellers of used and rare books) with their green boxes across the Seine.
Sylvia Whitman, his daughter and present owner of the Shakespeare and Company bookshop says, “He would also say that his biography had already been written in Dostoevsky’s The Idiot . I truly think he imagined he was living in a novel himself… he was certainly more eccentric than any character I’ve read in books.”
I know it is fashionable to call it “the end of an era” when someone famous or important dies but in George Whitman’s case, it was definitely so. With him went an age where people loved to read and in his case, lived to read (he once said that he was in the book business since it was the business of life). Sylvia Whitman has been shouldering his legacy since her return from the UK over 10 years ago. “It has been very difficult adjusting to life at the bookshop without this eccentric, witty, wild character at the centre of it… I am still trying to find my way in,” she admits candidly.
Read my story on the Shakespeare and Company bookshop in Paris and a tribute to its eccentric and brilliant owner George Whitman: 12 DECEMBER, 1913 – 14 DECEMBER 2011
Also read: The other Shakespeare bookshops
A photo show in Paris
I happened to read about the Femmes Eternelles photography show in Paris when I visited the city earlier this April. It was a collection of 80 portraits of women from all over the world by French photographer Olivier Martel. It said the venue was the railings of the Luxembourg Gardens – I had no idea where or what the railings were. And as it happened, nor did the staff at the park.
So we walked round and round the park, trying to find the venue, very sure that someone somewhere would know about such an exhibition. And just as we walked out in dismay at not finding it, we found it. The exhibition was just where it was supposed to be – on the railings that formed the fence of the park. There were scenes of women from Tunisia and Morocco to Russia and China. And in that evening light, the photographs were stunning – the best were those which seemed to fade into or melt into the surrounding greens or deep oranges.
Here are some of my favourites from the show:
In all this, India was a disappointment – a picture of giggly girls at the Miss India contest!
The bouquinistes of Paris
The bouquinistes – outdoor booksellers – of Paris, by the side of the Seine are one of my absolute favourite things about the city (the other are the parks). There are over 200 of them now in Paris and between them, I read somewhere, offer over 300000 old and new books and magazines. Recognized by their iconic green metal boxes and grumpy expressions (oh, but that’s everyone in Paris, so yeah, just the green metal boxes), these book stalls are a joy, especially when the weather is good and walking by the Seine is one of the most pleasurable activities imaginable on earth. Sure, there is a lot of junk but there is also the rare used book that is a collector’s – or even an avid reader’s – delight. Most of it is in French but I did find some English titles hidden away in between the piles.
These booksellers with their green boxes have been a part of the streetscape near the Seine since the 17th century. Sadly, they have been facing severe competition from the big bookshop chains but they soldier on. Many of them are now reduced to stocking kitschy posters and magnets meant for those annoying tourists (heh!). But under the strict trade regulation by the city council – to preserve this quintessential piece of Paris history – each seller is allowed to have a maximum of four boxes, out of which three are meant only for books. It is reassuring to know these bouquinistes will never suffer the same fate as that of old booksellers of South Mumbai’s fort area.
My own rare find was posters of Asterix – which I could not afford to buy, not by a long way – but the shopkeeper was one of those rare friendly faces who also spoke English and let me photograph them!
On the streets of Paris
That’s the great thing about street photography. There is always something interesting to shoot – and you don’t even have to go looking for it. It’s all happening, out there, in front of your eyes. If you keep your eyes open to the world, i.e.
Look what I found on a fine spring morning in Paris:
Don’t ask me! Mine but to shoot at sight – the story, I am sure you can imagine for yourself.
Head here for some great street photography from all over the world.
Heaven in a pita pocket
That is what I had called my piece on the falafel. I wrote a gushing tribute to it recently – a slightly different version of this piece was finally published.
“Yeh kya pakode hain?” my fellow journalist crinkled her nose at lunch at Falafel House in Istanbul. And I swear she looked around for tomato sauce to go with the falafels. But then, she thought hummus tasteless and the glorious Hagia Sophia boring, so I am not saying anything more.
Cut to Paris.
“Fine, go taste it for yourself” he said, giving me a raised-eyebrow look that added, “your fate.” This is shop 1, the L’As Du Fafafel, acknowledged generally by food bloggers as the best falafel joint in Paris. But I am all for the underdog. So I head to Mi-Va-Mi just across the road. I have no idea what it means but really, that lilting rhythmic sound of the name – who can resist it?
It would have been very easy to miss these stalls had I not gone looking for them. Tucked away in a narrow lane (Rue des Rosiers) in the hip Marais area in Paris, these two tiny outlets compete for business every single day. “Hmm mmm, the best in the world,” Mi-Va-Mi’s grinning chef tells me as he leads me by the hand inside his shop. Lunch time is far away and the crowds have not started pouring in, so waiters from both are standing out on the street, entertaining themselves by calling out to passers-by and trading insults.
So husband and I stuff our faces (literally, if you have seen the size that a fully loaded falafel sandwich can assume) at Mi-Va-Mi and then head to L’As to try theirs. My verdict? The underdog deserves better press – falafel at Mi-Va-Mi had just that extra tanginess that makes all the difference – and loads of grilled eggplant which appealed to the baingan-loving Telugu man that my husband is (really, what is it about baingan that can evoke such delight?) However, in terms of the vibe, it is L’As all the way. I was floored even before we placed our order, when the waiter who had serenaded us earlier unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his black T-shirt which read ‘I (red heart) L’as du Falafel’.
Both places have seating inside but the right thing to do – take it away, walk to a shaded open space and dig into it (ignoring the looks from people around you as they watch you lick that tahini from your chin). Then walk to the nearest bakery for dessert – or if you are in Paris, to the Berthillon ice-cream parlour on I’le Saint-Louis which sells, you guessed it, the best ice-cream in the world. Trust the Parisians to believe they have the best of everything. But in the case of the falafels, and only in that case, I agree with them.
I can understand why the falafel should appeal to my Indian sensibilities – it came cheap (6 euros), saved my starving vegetarian self and was sold by incredibly friendly people (walk around Paris for three days braving the surly waiters and you’ll know). In fact, it has so much going for it that it should appeal to any Indian. It does not pinch your pocket (even as you furiously make that rupee-euro conversion in your head), it has sinful fried stuff, it can be made spicy and it is best enjoyed messy. And any self-respecting mangophile will attest, messy is directly proportional to tasty. Spicy? Well, the word falafel is supposed to have come from the Arabic ‘filfil’ or even further back to the Sanskrit ‘pippali’, meaning pepper – so just go full tilt on the dressing.
But what is it about it that makes even die-hard carnivores nod in approval? There are serious arguments among Parisian bloggers who otherwise write in smooth, snooty tones about the wonders of their city – they wax eloquent when it comes to the falafel. Words like flawless, crunchy, velvety, creamy, crisp, juicy – and surprise, surprise, that word the world uses so rarely – amazing! flow without restraint. And it is not just Paris. Which is the most-loved street food all the way across in the USA? Not the hot dog. It is the unassuming falafel (it won both the people’s choice and judges’ choice awards at the Vendy’s last year, the ultimate award for street food).
Yeah, so, falafel. The word traditionally refers to the crisp fried but soft inside chickpea fritters (please, anything but pakoda) but now also means the pita bread sandwich in which it is served most often. And that sandwich is an art of work in itself – the falafel balls, creamy hummus, salted fresh and grilled veggies, tahini, mint sauce… all stuffed into a pita pocket that oozes rapturous goodness with every bite.
If you don’t want the mess (really? why?), you can get these separately too on a plate – all the ingredients with pita bread on the side. But anyone who has eaten panipuri served at your table on plates with a tiny cup of pani by the side will know what an unsatisfying experience that can be.
The falafel is believed to have originated in Egypt – where they make the fritter with fava beans – and rapidly made its way along the Middle East. At some point, Israel appropriated it as their national dish. And Palestine protested. And the rest, as they say, is history. No, not really but there is a sustained food fight going on the region (mostly on the internet) over falafel.
In India, the best ones are available at the Falafel Veg Hummus House in Mumbai (various locations), Ta’am Falafel Restaurant in Bangalore (Koramangala) and Alaturka Doner Kebab and Falafel in Delhi (Select City Walk mall).
The parks of Paris
Of all the places we visited in Europe, our least favourite was Paris. Yes, I know, blasphemy. Perhaps it was because we went there directly from Prague which was small and exceedingly beautiful. Or perhaps because the things one has heard about Paris being a rude and unfriendly city were always in our minds. Anyway. So Paris was expensive, unfriendly and… let me just say that Paris has not managed to work its magic on me. And of course, the fact that neither of speak any French did not make it any easier.
What we did love though were the parks of Paris.
We managed to walk around only two of them but both were pretty enough for us to go again the next day. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom – spring was truly in the air – and there were people in the parks through the day. I know because we visited at different times of the day. One was the Jardin Du Luxembourg. The first we walked in, I was struck by how many people seemed to be just lazing around on easy chairs and even on the grass enjoying the mild sunshine – and not all of them tourists. And when we went back the next evening, several games of chess were in progress and I got shooed away by an annoyed old man for disturbing their concentration with my incessant clicking (can’t blame them – yes, I know).
And the other, which I found far prettier, was Jardin des Tuileries – a fabulous location right in front of the Louvre. The garden is called Tuileries after the tile workshops that were spread across the area for many centuries. Also, this garden houses my favourite museum, the Orangerie with its glorious sunshine pouring upon Monet’s works.
I hope you enjoyed your walk through the parks?
