When I first bought my apartment, I thought I knew Paris. As it turned out, I had barely scratched the surface. An outing with my son John helped me fall in love with neighborhoods that I had barely heard of.

When John made his first visit, several years ago, I expected to explore history, architecture and museums. But John, adventuresome and irrepressible, took a more creative path. First, he curled up on the sofa with his laptop and L’Officiel des Spectacles, the magazine of Paris events. I asked what he was up to. “Studying possibilities,” he said.

Minutes later, he unfolded his long legs and grinned. “I’ve found something that you’ve never done in Paris, and we’re doing it tonight. An indie band I like, Akron/Family, is making its Paris debut. Do you know a club named Point Ephémère, in the Tenth arrondissement?”

Nope. I didn’t. The Tenth arrondissement, the area around the Canal Saint Martin, had a mixed reputation – faded industrial area, low rent district, destination for immigrants and homeless. My only visits had been cruises along the canal – an outdated supply waterway, recently re-discovered by tour companies.

I felt a bit intimidated, outside my comfort zone, but lured by the prospect of a new experience. So, armed with GPS and enthusiasm, we navigated to the Louis Blanc Métro and then to the address, 200 quai de Valmy. But it was a locked door marked Livraisons (Deliveries) on a nondescript street.

We searched further, passing shabby shops and new office buildings, run-down clubs and hip restaurants. Finally, down a graffiti-covered ramp, on the banks of the canal, we found Point Ephémère, a utilitarian brick building decorated with giant murals. Inside three hundred spectators filled its concert hall – actually a cavernous storeroom painted black.

John – taller than most, with curly hair – was easy to follow as he navigated to the bar, past an elderly French couple, a trio of teen-agers in headscarves, and a Chinese-speaking group. Spotlights illuminated the American flag that served as a stage backdrop. Akron/Family’s music, described in the program’s creative French, was an “inimitable kaleidoscope of musical folk rock psychedelic byways”. John yelled in my ear, “Listen to the lyrics!”. Impossible over the band and crowd, but who cared? I was having a blast.

At intermission we sat on the berges (banks), watching street lights, dark water and the reflections of pedestrian bridges. Across the canal were the tents of personnes sans-abri (homeless). Next door was a fire station, and occasionally an ambulance made its way among the café tables.

“Are you glad we came?” John asked. Absolutely I was. I laughed to myself. I had anticipated grand monuments, medieval streets and masterpieces. Instead John had uncovered a multicultural crowd, eclectic music and an emerging neighborhood, on a 19th-century canal. And he had broadened my Paris passions.

Since then, I love exploring the city’s transitional neighborhoods – Belleville, Little Jaffna, Barbès, Goutte d’Or, Château d’Eau, Saint Denis. Some are rich with businesses, markets and art. In some, the challenges of poverty and crime are enormous. But the future of the city is developing there, among African hairdressers, Indian silk vendors, Chinese grocers, Mexican street artists, Moroccan restauranteurs, parents pushing prams and engineers toiling in converted warehouses. I want to get to know it all.

__________________________________________________

Point Ephémère, 200 quai de Valmy, 75010 Paris, 01 40 34 02 48
http://www.pointephemere.org/ An abandoned 1930 construction materials warehouse found new life in 2004 as an artists’ space. It holds residences, performance areas, an art gallery and a café. It was created by Usines Éphémères, a team that converts unused buildings into art destinations.

Canal Saint Martin. The canal flows from northern Paris, under the Place de la Bastille, to the Seine. One of Napoleon’s modernization projects, it was a highway for goods entering the city. It narrowly missed being filled in in the 1960s and now is the centerpiece for a vibrant neighborhood. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canal_Saint-Martin

The Tenth arrondissement has become hip and fashionable. Residents range from bohemian students to young families to first-generation immigrants. Fashionable shops and Indo-Pakistani restaurants rub elbows. I love its art shows, creative shops, music festivals and picnics on the canal. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/10th_arrondissement_of_Paris

Akron/Family issued six studio albums between 2007 and 2013, then split up to pursue individual projects, leaving the door open for a reunion. https://www.facebook.com/akronfamily/

 

 

 

 

 

It was a grey, rainy evening in Paris, and I was at loose ends. No dinner plans, no evening events, and gloomy weather. I slogged along rue Mouffetard towards home, anticipating a solitary evening and feeling a bit sorry for myself. How to find fun and companionship with no friends around?

The pedestrian market street was empty except for umbrella-toting locals and shopkeepers locking their stores for the night. At the end of the road, I passed a solitary café. Its warm lights spread a glow on the rainy cobblestones and illuminated its name, Verre à Pied, in block letters above the door.  Big glass windows in the small green storefront showed a deep, narrow room with a wood-and-marble bar. And there was a handwritten sign in the window:  Musique, mercredi soir, 21h. Music, Wednesday, 9:00 – just an hour from now.

Here was the distraction I needed. I felt a little skittish about eating alone, but I was determined to take advantage of the opportunity. I pushed open the door. There was a short menu on the blackboard: Boeuf bourguignon sounded like the perfect French comfort food. I made my way to a table in back, sat near an old wood stove, and settled down to observe the entertainment.

Patrons filled the small tables, chatting with the propriétaire tending the bar.  A guitarist arrived and began to croon French ballads. The audience hummed along and requested songs. I especially noticed a group at the next table, a man and two women. They sang along with all the songs, even harmonizing.  To my surprise, after a few songs the man stood and walked toward the guitarist, with applause from some of the diners.  He was stooped, slightly disheveled and seemed tired.  But when he reached the microphone, he straightened. He flipped up the collar of his leather jacket and greeted the crowd.  Then he launched into a romantic, dramatic interpretation of La Mer, a Charles Trenet love song.   The audience whistled and clapped, and he returned to his friends at the table.

Other volunteer performers followed.  Then the guitarist seguéd into the Beatles.  Being American, I knew all the words, and couldn’t resist singing along from my seat.  The trio next to me moved their chairs closer, enthusiastically complimenting my singing and incorporating me into their conversation. We introduced ourselves – Serge, the singer, had a local reputation as an interpreter of French classics.  Sylvie, retired from civil service, was an active local volunteer.  Jocelyne, sociable and curious about the US, was visiting from the suburbs.   Collectively, they decided that I must perform too!

Yikes.  It seemed like a big step from a quiet dinner alone to belting out Beatles for an audience.  But before I even knew I’d said yes, I was at the microphone singing “I Want to Hold Your Hand”, then “Yesterday”, topped by a rousing sing-along of “Let It Be”.

When the singing ended, Sylvie squeezed all four of us into her tiny Citroën, and drove to her nearby apartment.  Over a bottle of wine, we talked politics, health care and academics.  I learned that Serge looked tired because of a recent heart operation – “But I don’t feel tired when I sing,” he explained.   They welcomed me to the neighborhood, “Le quartier le plus sympa de Paris”*.  Then we piled into the car again, and they delivered me to my apartment in a warm rush of international good feeling.

It took me days to absorb this sudden encounter with new friends and fun. How had it happened?  Partly, good luck.  I couldn’t expect to be welcomed spontaneously every night. But that evening reminded me that determination and a little risk-taking frequently pay off. In fact, they’re essential to living well as a part-time Parisian.

 

* * *

Since this event, I’ve been back to Le Verre à Pied (The Wine Glass) several times, and learned that it has been in operation since the 1930s.  It has kept its authenticity despite having been featured in the movie Amélie, and attracts a loyal clientele of residents, students and families.   There are art exhibits on the walls and a pile of books on the old stove for relaxing with wine or coffee.  Go early – it’s only open 9:00 to 9:00 (4:00pm Sundays). It no longer hosts music nights but the food, fait maison (home-made), is terrific. Le Verre à Pied, 118 bis rue Mouffetard 75005, 01 43 31 15 72.

Propriétaire – owner

Le quartier le plus sympa de Paris – the most congenial neighborhood in Paris

Charles Trenet was a French singer/songwriter active from the late 1930s to mid-1950s.  Americans know La Mer, the song Serge sang, as Bobby Darin’s Somewhere Beyond the Sea.