The familiar Gâre de Lyon train hall

It was midnight in the Gâre de Lyon, and I was lost. Which was strange, since I thought I knew this train station well. It’s close to my apartment, my jumping-off point for trips south. And it’s distinctive: The train hall, inaugurated in 1900, is full of forged steel, frescoes, grand arched windows and curving staircases. It’s usually crammed with travelers. But not tonight.

The unfamiliar glass space where I found myself at midnight

After a late dinner in the suburbs, I had taken the RER (suburban train) back to the Gâre de Lyon. All I had to do was take several escalators up to the train hall, and walk home. But when I got up to street level, I was not in the usual train hall – i was in a huge modern space entirely enclosed by glass windows and walls. It was clearly a train station – empty tracks marched down one side – but I couldn’t get oriented: The world outside the windows was pitch black. The interior looked the same in all directions. The station shops, a mini-Monoprix, tabac and pharmacy, were closed. Far above my head, empty office windows loomed. The only person in sight was a gentleman cleaning the floor in the distance. I felt like I was in a giant glass aquarium, with me the only fish.But not tonight.

I was a bit anxious. Had I gotten off at the wrong stop? Taken the wrong escalators? I didn’t want to wander an empty building and unfamiliar streets at midnight lookng for my way home. Should I chase down the custodian to ask directions or just walk until I saw something familiar? I sat on a sleek metal bench, too tired to go exploring.

Suddenly music filled the hall.

This wasn’t piped-in music, it was real piano. Ragtime. I couldn’t see its source, and because of the echos, couldn’t identify its direction. But the music made me feel better, and curiosity got me up and moving. I set out to look for the piano, swimming in artificial yellow light from columns to kiosks to signs.

At last, at the other end of the hall behind a large advertising poster, I found an upright piano. The young man at the bench was belting out 1920s Scott Joplin. There was no stage, no audience, no logic to this midnight performance. The pianist was dressed properly but simply, in khakis and a jacket. He had no sheet music, nothing but a shopping bag. His dark head moved with the music and he hummed as he worked his way through the early 20^th century – blues, swing and lively French chansons.

The corridor of frescos that led back to the main station

I stood listening. Finally a few people trickled by. A woman stopped to listen. A couple passed with backpacks. A family rushed through – mother, father, son, daughter, with a yellow Labrador retriever and two hockey sticks. From the direction the others walked, I discovered a corridor that led back to the old Gâre de Lyon, and easily found my way home.

Later, I confirmed that I had taken the escalators to Hall 2, a 2014 ten-track addition to the Gâre de Lyon. Logically, I knew that some city authority must have approved and delivered the piano. But I preferred to believe that it had materialized just for the night, while the outside world slept, so I could listen to magical music in a giant glass aquarium.

*************************

Addenda and Links:

The Gâre de Lyon, in southeast Paris, was inaugurated in 1900, and is a masterpiece of Art industrielle (industrial art). Ninety million passengers a year make it one of the busiest stations in Europe – which is why Hall 2 was built. Its stone façade is covered with classical figures and boasts a 150-foot clock tower that’s a cross between Big Ben and Jules Verne. The wonderfully over-decorated Train Bleu restaurant in the station is one of my favorite places to take visitors.https://www.gares-sncf.com/fr/gare/frply/paris-gare-lyon

There are four types of trains in Paris: Métro (subway), RER, regional and TGV. All four types stop in each train station. Wonderful opportunities for getting lost! http://parisbytrain.com

Here are some decorative bits from the old station. And here’s a map link to train stations with pianos.
http://www.sncf.com/fr/presse/carte/pianos-gares

The end of a busy day: Café O’Jules and the Italie 2 shopping center

I’m at Café O’Jules on the Place d’Italie, accompanied by a large brown box and a serious case of exhaustion. Whupped isn’t a French word, but it’s the best one for how I feel.  How did I end up here, listening to a French version of “Born to Run” and eating stale popcorn out of a plastic basket?

It started this morning. I rushed through errands so I could be on time for a walking tour of Chinatown.  Our group met at the Porte de Choisy, at the southern end of the 13th arrondissement. Our guide Claude Marti created an air of drama with his dark eyes, black coat and a black hat pulled low over his eyes. He leaped onto a nearby bench, swept his arms wide, and exclaimed,“Bienvenue au quartier asiatique, le Chinatown de Paris.”*  

First glimpse of Chinatown

I looked around.  Nothing here resembled the Chinatowns of San Francisco or New York. No arched gateways, no winding streets, no quaint lanterns. The closest thing to an ethnic restaurant nearby was a McDonalds with Chinese lettering. All around were enormous featureless towers. Marti seemed to anticipate my reaction – “This Chinatown must be discovered and uncovered,” he said. “It is a creation of the last 40 years.” I hope it’s here somewhere, I thought, because this is the blandest neighborhood I’ve seen in Paris.

I was wrong. The Asiatic Quarter is a rich and fascinating district camouflaged by modernistic apartment blocks. In the 1960s, a massive urbanization project replaced an “insalubre” workers’ district with dozens of residential towers. Influenced by Le Corbusier’s principles, planners ignored traditional French street life, elevating pedestrian areas onto platforms above street level. This design repelled the Parisian professionals who were the intended residents. Many developments were close to failure when, in the 1970s, immigrants fleeing war in Southeast Asia began to fill the empty towers. Today, la petite Asie includes 200 acres and 50,000 Vietnamese, Cambodian, Lao and Chinese.

Residential towers and elevated pedestrian level, 30 feet above street level

The high-rise design hides much of the life of the quartier asiatique from the casual stroller. For example, to enter Tang Frères, giant retail flagship of a family empire, we walked down a sloping driveway, around a corner and under a building.  But once inside, it seemed that everyone in Chinatown was there, buying rice noodles, lychee juice, coconut milk, octopus – anything edible and Asian.

A Buddhist temple is tucked in a far corner of the dalle.

Around more corners and up a stairway, we stepped out onto the dalle, the elevated pedestrian platform of Olympia, largest of the developments. Its pagoda-style shops are far removed from street level – 30 feet above it. But children played soccer on the open concrete porch; and tucked in a corner of the platform was the temple of the Buddhist Teochew sect, with a welcoming feel and brightly-decorated community room.

Buddha in the Temple of French Residents of Indochinese Origin

Then we descended several flights of stairs for another stop – this time a temple whose entry is in the ramp to a parking garage.

After the tour, invigorated by brisk winter air and new experiences, I decided to run an errand at the nearby Italie 2 shopping center. But when I emerged in the chilly evening, carrying a vacuum cleaner in a bulky box, my adrenaline had run out. I couldn’t face the Métro stairs or the walk across the huge traffic rotary to the taxi stand. I plopped down at Café O’Jules – which brings us back to the beginning of this post. Nursing my aperitif and popcorn, the vacuum cleaner sitting across the table like a dull date, I can’t imagine ever getting up. (“Another One Bites the Dust”, comments the music from the overhead speakers.)

Will I muster the energy to walk to the taxi? Or will I continue to sit here, dreaming of mysterious Chinatown, falling asleep over my glass of Dubonnet? Ask me later. Right now, I’m whupped.

*****

Links and translations

Panhard factory building

“Bienvenue au quartier asiatique, le Chinatown de Paris.” – Welcome to the Asiatic quarter, Paris’ Chinatown.  This district is bordered by avenue de Choisy, avenue d’Ivry and boulevard de Masséna.  Wikipedia has a good account of the 60s project to remake the area.  Look for the 1891 Panhard buildings, remnants of demolished factories.

Our guide Claude

Claude Marti, our guide in Chinatown, is a rock star among French-speaking Paris tour leaders.

insalubre – unsanitary

Tang Frères, 48 Avenue d’Ivry, 75013, sells to cooks and restauranteurs from all over Paris.

dalle – in the Asiatic quarter, a pedestrian platform above street level; literally, concrete slab

Temple de l’Amicale des Teochew, Terrasse des Olympiades, offers a quiet retreat, and the Association des Résidents en France d’Origine Indochinoise hosts public events.

centre commercial – shopping center

Café O’Jules, 2 Rue Bobillot, 75013, redeems itself on quiet Sunday afternoons, with comfortable red chairs, dark wood décor – and peanuts instead of popcorn. 

The Luohan, immortal guardians

I’m in Paris for just one week, the first week in September. It’s a great time to be here, for two reasons: The weather is perfect. And, it’s La Rentrée.

La Rentrée means The Return – literally la rentrée scolaire, when students and teachers go back to school. But because many businesses close in August and much of the population takes vacation, La Rentrée is also associated with a general restart of activity. There are expositions, performances, advertising promotions, sports events and theater offerings: “La Rentrée Cinéma” “Spectacles de la Rentrée” “Rentrée Yoga” – even a Rentrée special on galvanized nails. There’s also a general air of anticipation – what will the new year bring?

Nicolsen, my favorite chocolatier on the rue Mouffetard, created a chocolate palette for La Rentrée. Nicolsen has four small shops and manufactures in a workshop north of Paris. Its chocolates don’t show up in gourmet Top Ten lists, but they are yummy, and the locals shop here.

A young student is rewarded with ice cream from Nicolsen after her first day of school.

While their father shops at Fournil de Mouffetard, his daughters tightrope along the narrow bakery platform. The metal floor and pastry cases are unfolded every morning; immediately a long line forms. Right after this picture, I bought a grain-encrusted baguette hot from the oven. Mmmmm.

A friend took me to this newly-opened park on the rue des Rosiers. It’s tucked behind buildings; its entry is through the twelfth-century Philippe Auguste city wall.

The park, in the old Jewish quarter, is named for Joseph Migneret. To me, that feels like a poignant choice. He rescued children during the Deportation.

For the adults, it’s clean-up-fix-up time. This workman posed beside his newly-whitewashed wall in the Passages des Patriarches.

This guy leaning out of a second-floor window is installing flag holders for Young and Happy, a youth hostel.

Maison Gregoire, around the corner from my apartment, has hung a new purple awning and set out multicolored tables and chairs. Today a lovely lady in a purple suit adds a decorative touch.

There is plenty of room for performers and pets on the Place Contrescarpe. Usually the square is crowded, but this week the tourists are gone. So it’s easy to find a seat in the cafés, and you can hear the notes and the splashing of the fountain.

André Marie Constant Dumécil, zoologist, looks down from the wall of the Museum of Comparative Anatomy and Zoology and seems pleased with La Rentrée. So am I.