Dijon: Seeking Coffee but Finding a Botanical Garden

Jardin botanique de l’Arquebuse

We learned that the next qualifying train would leave at 13:29, two hours before our previously scheduled departure. Natasha had another of her good ideas: “Instead of eating our lunch in the train station, let’s walk to the botanical gardens that are nearby!” We exited the train station onto Avenue Albert I and emerged into the Arquebuse Botanical Gardens (also home to the Museum of Natural History of Dijon). I didn’t go very far; we found a park bench in a shady area. A large statue of a warrior (Hercules?) choking a lion to death was the main sight, but the play of light through the leaves and the tinkle of the waters around us made it a pleasant place. We had all sorts of goodies with us that Natasha had found at Monoprix. It was beautiful.

The Muséum d’histoire naturelle de Dijon is housed in a barracks that were constructed for arquebusiers around 1608 (an arquebus is a type of long gun that began use in Europe in the 15th century).

Since we had a couple hours for our lunch and garden visit, Natasha went wandering with the camera to shoot some lovely pictures of flowers. The rose garden wasn’t very floral (I am sure that will change in two months!), but there were plenty of beautiful plants to see. Around 12:45 PM, she returned, and we walked into the train station. We were some of the first onto the platform for the TER train. Happily, we got seats side-by-side, with a table in front of us in the train car. There were no delays this time, and before dinner time we were back in Paris. Our Dijon adventure was complete!

Who doesn’t love a vegetable garden and a tree to provide some shade?

Dijon: The Tower, two museums, and a sausage too far

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April 30, 2022

Natasha and I had booked tickets for only one site during our time in Dijon, and so we were determined to reach the tourism office on Rue des Forges on time. In fact, we arrived a whole hour ahead of our 10:30 AM appointment. I picked up a “Owl’s Trail” guide for 3.50 Euros; it’s a photo and history vignette guide for 20 key tourist sites around the old city, and little triangular markers in the sidewalk guide from one site to the next. They even have some more far-flung side journeys that lead further out from the center (for those markers, the owl is flying).

This little owl has touched thousands of visitors to Dijon.

We were happy that we would see the owl herself! She’s a little gargoyle on Notre Dame Church in Dijon. It’s an odd structure, with a facade littered with gargoyles that has been constructed over its original face. It has a bell tower that was taken as war booty from a 14th century war in Kortrijk, Belgium! The owl who has become a city mascot is a much-worn and frequently defaced owl-shaped blob on the northern wall of the church. We also stepped inside, lighting a candle in memorial for a loved friend and marvelling at the lovely stained glass and even some painted walls in considerable need of restoration. This also marked the first time I had seen a tapestry on display above the entry of a church. On two occasions, the Dijonais have commissioned tapestries for the city’s miraculous rescue from harm. The first, celebrating the city’s survival of the 1513 siege by Swiss troops, is on display in the Fine Arts Museum (and I hope to see it tomorrow). The one hanging in the church was commissioned in 1944, as Dijon emerged from the dark clouds of Nazi rule.

The 13th century Church of Notre Dame de Dijon offers a lot of unique features,

Tour Philippe le Bon

Natasha and I could have happily zipped on the Owl’s Trail, but we were soon called back to the visitor’s center for the tour start. Most of the group spoke French, but our guide resolved to give at least a brief translation at each stop. Our destination was the top of the Tower of Philip the Good, a 46 meter tower constructed between 1450 and 1460. It was part of the ducal castle of the time, and it was incorporated into the later royal castle that emerged on the site after the King of France assumed more direct control of Burgandy. How good was Philip the Good? Well, he was a key leader in the French Civil War that allowed the King of England, Henry V, to destroy the French army at Agincourt. Philip the Good declared his neutrality to let the English invasion proceed!

The grounds surrounding the palace and its tower are also lovely.

In any case, the first key feature we noticed about the tower was that it requires a climb of 316 steps, and you can only pass the heavy doorway to its entrance if you are with a ticketed tour. We were not the only people feeling a bit short-of-breath, but then we were the only two wearing masks. We appreciated the tidbits the guide shared during breaks in the climb, such as the carved bat to resist bad spirits at doors leading back into the (then) ducal castle. I really liked the vaulted ceilings at an upper level landing that had a mysterious door. The old ducal castle had the duke’s rooms at that level, but the modern royal castle cuts out a whole floor below; as a result, if this door were opened today, one would fall a long way.

Notre Dame de Dijon from above! (imperfect composite from three photos)

We reached the top, and our group had the opportunity to linger in the bright sunlight, just gazing out over the city below. Place de la Liberation below was a geometric shape, populated with tables and tourists. The stunning Saint Michael Church (imagine strapping a Romanesque facade on a French Gothic church) seemed much closer than it does from the ground. The Ducal Palace itself, of course, surrounded us on three sides, and I was happy to see the donjon tower that represents the oldest part of the palace. After a bit, however, we felt a bit baked up there, and our group lumped down the winding staircase rather faster than it had ascended. Natasha pointed out a carved snail along the way.

Place de la Libération as viewed from the top of the Tower

Well, we were both pretty winded when we reached the bottom, and we realized we needed to eat lunch sooner, rather than later. We passed down Rue du Bourg to Rue Berbisey, knowing that it was populated with restaurants. It was still a bit soon for them to open, though, since it was before noon. We had a stroke of lunch when we found Malinalli, a Mexican grocery store. Natasha picked up a couple cans of chipotle chilis in adobo sauce, and they invited us to return for fresh tamales after 3PM! (Sadly, they were not cooked in a way that avoided contamination with gluten, so we couldn’t buy them.) From Malinalli, we walked a few few to Place Emile Zola, which was absolutely surrounded with restaurants (the Maharaja, where we’d eaten the night before, is on its western side). We found a sushi place that was ready to serve and had a happy lunch. I liked the carved frogs flanking the fountain nearby. We arrived at our next destination early, so we lingered in a nearby park, watching dogs playing happily in the dandelions and daisies. Natasha captured a photograph of my hiding from the sun behind my raincoat’s hood.

A sunbeaten Dave is not always a happy Dave.

Museum of Burgundian Life

Dijon is unusual for having a “Museum of Burgundian Life.” (Note: the French call the region “Bourgogne,” so the Burgundy region can appear by either name.) What does it look like for a museum to describe the lifestyle of a region? Well, the museum literature highlights the recreations of shops from an earlier era, such a hatmakers and butchers, but they don’t fill the refectory and cloister that the museum inhabits. They also have a fair amount of fine art and sculpture on display. Some of that art tells a story, such as the painting of two bishops that were defaced in the French Revolution.

For my part, when I say Bourgogne, I think of the wine farms that have filled this region for many centuries. But where is the story of Burgundian wine culture in this museum? I don’t even recall seeing a tub where grapes were trod, let alone a map of major grape growers in the region. You can be sure, though, that the story of Dijon mustard, the city’s signature product, was given pride of place. I laughed to learn that Grey Poupon originated in Dijon; their TV commercials in the 1980s and 1990s had been a favorite laugh for friends of mine.

Soldiers in the trenches of World War I occasionally created art pieces.

Natasha and I were both entranced by a fascinating display of folk art from soldiers in the trenches of the First World War. Some had been made from bullet casings, and other were crafted from other metals, such as an impressive array of jewelry rings.

The salon of André Müler created these art pieces from human hair.

Those recreated shops from an earlier era are occasionally a bit creepy, by the way. Natasha pointed out a glass globe filled with blue-dyed water; in the 19th century, that image was the cue that a shop was an apothecary (much like a lighted green Swiss cross represents drug stores in modern-day France). The store window contained a huge jar of digitalis and another of opium! The women’s hair salon window also incorporated a display of wigs, novelty hairpieces, and even flowers all manufactured from human hair. It gave me the full-body cringe.

Darcy Park has lovely landscaping and pathways.

We had finished with the tower and our first museum, but we still had some energy. We decided to walk up to Darcy Park just outside the Guillaume Gate (18th century city gate). Their cascading water fountain was very pretty, and it was clear that many city residents enjoy resting in the grassy areas flanking it. We gradually made our way up the fountain to the little monument that stands uphill of it all, and that’s when we learned that the fountains and park had been named after a civil engineer who laid many miles of water pipes under the city. What an appropriate honor!

Archaeological Museum of Dijon

The multicolored roofs in Dijon are created from roof tiles.

The Archaeological Museum of Dijon was between the park and our AirBnB, so we stopped in there, as well. I was thrilled to get a close look at the polychrome roof tiles of the cathedral on a low structure. The museum itself occupies a former refectory (the parish cathedral used to be an Abbey Church for the Templars).

The first space we entered in the museum was a lovely chamber for just the sort of thing I love, a set of exhibits detailing major buildings in the city of Dijon that can no longer be visited (dating back to around the year 1000 C.E.)! I really appreciated their little models of the castle of Dijon, which was torn down at the end of the 19th century (now the enormous post office / telephone / telegraph office). I loved that they had a model of the Templar church that included its long-demolished rotunda– the Templars often created round sanctuaries for their churches, modeled on the one in Jerusalem.

The Templar church had a small, round chapel behind it in early years. These church grounds now house the museum itself.

The downstairs crypt took us another millennium back in time, since it featured mostly Roman relics that came from the Source of the Seine, which lies in northeast Burgundy on the Langres Plateau. The Source was held to be a sacred place to the goddess Sequana, so the Romans had established a bit of a temple complex there.

This bronze statue of Sequana, the goddess of the Seine River, standing in a duck boat, was discovered by Corot in 1933. I am unclear on its age.

It was pretty wild to see so many Celto-Roman artifacts from this area. I particularly liked the bronze boat for the Sequana, and the carved stone cult statue of a goddess was beautiful, too. Some of these items date from the first century of the Common Era. I was moved by an array of funerary stelae from the second and third centuries, and I got a kick out of seeing a figure holding his hands over his eyes on a pillar down there in the crypt!

We stumbled back to our apartment rather than continue up to the second floor (prehistory and the Merovingian epoch). We were footsore, and our brains could absorb no more. We had a snack and caught up on the world for a bit. At seven PM, though, we arrived at Le Pré aux Clercs, a fine restaurant on Place de la Liberation. Natasha had learned that they could handle celiac meals, so we had made our reservation early. I opted for a glass of white wine from Burgundy (not a contradiction in terms, I am happy to report), and Natasha ordered a red. We were both happy with our choices! Natasha’s duck filet in pepper sauce filled her with delight. I decided to try an “andouillette,” a coarse-grained sausage in a mustard sauce. At first, I was doing okay with my meal, but I am accustomed to sausage contents being ground so fine that they are no longer identifiable. About halfway through the meal, though, Natasha said, “I would never have expected to see you eat tripe!” I will try not to exaggerate my belly’s response, but I will say that soon thereafter I set aside the remainder of the sausage. It was a noble experiment, but it was concluded!

Dijon: Getting our Feet on the Ground

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April 29, 2022

Natasha has hungered to visit parts of France outside the capital. She hadn’t come on the trip with my brother to Avignon and Marseilles, and I visited Lyon while she was in South Africa. Together, we decided we would visit Dijon, the capital of Burgundy, to familiarize ourselves with a city that was a significant part of France’s culinary history.

The slow train is also the inexpensive train (as cheap as 16 Euros, at present).

Our Friday afternoon train to Dijon left from the Bercy train station, a name I’d never heard before. It was quite close to the Gare de Lyon, which also serves Burgundy. Instead of taking the TGV for the fastest possible route to Dijon, we used a TER, making the trip much less expensive. The train itself, however, was pretty crowded, and some folks were being pretty inconsiderate. One gentleman had stretched himself out across four seats as though he was napping; we were struggling just to find a pair of seats next to each other! We ended up in a vintage second-class car up at the front of the train, separated into booths of four seats facing four seats. Natasha and I were knee to knee.

If you follow your feet, who knows what path they will tread?

The train ride was supposed to be under three hours, but an unscheduled delay at Sens meant that we sat in that car for three and a half hours. I read a book in Kindle on my phone, and Natasha enjoyed the countryside rolling by and dozed. Just before we reached Dijon, the train stopped at Venarey-les-Laumes, a city that is thought by some to be the last refuge of Vercingetorix, a Gaul leader who was crushed by the Romans. Natasha and I craned our heads to see his statue south of the railroad tracks, but it might have been over the crest of the hill from us.

At last we pulled into Dijon, and we stumbled wearily onto the wet street. It had been a rainy day, and there were puddles and drips everywhere. We had about a ten-minute walk to reach the AirBnB where we were staying. Even that short walk had a lot of beautiful sights, including the somber city Cathedral and the ruined twelfth-century St. Philbert’s Church right beside it. Right behind them we found a Michelin-starred restaurant, and our AirBnB host met us there and guided us across the street to the flat where we would be staying. She guided us through the facilities in French, and Natasha and I were proud of ourselves for absorbing it all.

After putting down our bags, we popped back onto the stret to visit a grocery store; a Monoprix was just a couple of blocks away. We did a little loop through the tourist area of the town on our way back, and the city really put on a show for us. We passed north along Rue Vauban to Place de la Liberation, the semicircular plaza before the Palace of the Dukes. Natasha pointed to a larger-than-life statue of a stormtrooper across from another of C3PO from Star Wars. They were decorating a cinema in that plaza. We passed to the west and marveled at the half-timbered buildings that had survived hundreds of years to line this rich business area.

Maison Maillard was built for the mayor of Dijon in 1560.

We saw a beautiful multi-colored roof and headed north from Rue de la Liberté. It was the Hotel Aubriot, a heritage building, that had drawn us to Rue des Forges. We will certainly be back there because that road is flanked by gorgeous architecture from another era. We followed the road to the west, though, and that took us to Place Francois Rude (a sculptor). An imposing building that had the look of a former city hall today houses a bank, and tourists seemed to be everywhere around us. We continued west on Rue de la Liberte until we could see William Gate, an arched stone city gate from the 18th century. We turned back to the south to deposit our groceries.

Hôtel Aubriot‘s multi-colored roof echoes a distinctive motif found throughout Dijon.

We enjoyed a different look at the city when we went out for dinner at Le Maharaja, an Indian restaurant along Rue Monge. I swear that street was made for tourists, with majestic mansions bearing heritage placquards alternating with restaurants. We meandered a little further to the south after dinner, passing under a railroad bridge to see the vast Cite de la Gastronomie next to Ecole Ferrandi. We came under the rail belt again a bit to the east and passed the Museum of Burgundian Life and the Museum of Sacred Art.

Does that look like a “William” Gate to you? Perhaps a “Henry,” instead?

At that point, we were both quite worn out. We’d been lucky to have sunlight past 8PM, but it was clear that wouldn’t continue much longer. We returned to the apartment and crashed.

We salute the Champ de Mars, the Trocadéro, and the Musée de l’Homme

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April 10, 2022

Natasha and I had something special to celebrate this Sunday, and so we made a reservation at one of our favorite restaurants: Tasca, not far from the Eiffel Tower. For once we could walk to our destination rather than requiring the Metro! Most of our route lay along Rue de Lourmel, so we could stroll in the spring sunlight without worrying about missing a turn.

Tasca’s storefront on Avenue de Sufferin

Tasca has performed some reconstruction work recently, and now the tables that were previously on the sidewalk have been surrounded by glass walls. The seating space is all pretty cramped, but we were able to get a corner table in the glass room. I have to say, at this point, that Tasca’s staff seemed far more distracted than in our earlier visits. We never received our basket of gluten-free breads, but our entrees did arrive pretty quickly. Natasha had a clam linguini dish, and I had the baked lasagna since I had enjoyed it so much on prior visits. When we were contemplating the dessert menu, however, the staff asked us if we could change to a different table since a large party had created a situation where they needed to push together two tables. We called for the check and left an increasingly claustrophobic space.

Champ de Mars

We wanted to enjoy the sunlight, so we decided to walk into the neighboring Champ de Mars instead of returning home. I must say that tourists are definitely returning to the City of Light, and the Champ de Mars is a hotspot because it is home to the Eiffel Tower. It has also gained a new Grand Palais Éphémère across the street from the famed École Militaire that once trained Napoleon Bonaparte. It also provided the name for the Champ de Mars since it means “field of the war god.” Hundreds of people were enjoying lunch with an unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower. Natasha and I had been talking about a visit to the Trocadéro for quite a while, so we decided to walk the length of the Champ de Mars to cross the Seine at Pont d’Iéna.

Constructed for the 1889 World’s Fair, the Eiffel Tower was the world’s tallest building until the 1930 construction of the Chrysler Building in New York City.

If we thought the pedestrian traffic was heavy in the Champ de Mars, the base of the Eiffel Tower was a revelation. The entire base is blocked from public access to accommodate visitors to the Tower itself, and for a city block in every direction from the Tower, tchotchke vendors, caricature artists, selfie arm sellers, and water bottle hawkers had laid their sheets on the sidewalk with their wares. Natasha even spotted an illicit wine-by-the-glass seller. Many of the vendors used squeeze toys to draw the eyes of passers-by. We just did our best to find clear spots to jump forward. This is not the deserted lockdown Paris from our first arrival in January, 2021! The aggressive vendors and listless tourists continued to pose a barrier even onto the bridge across the Seine.

The Trocadéro

The Trocadéro gardens seemed pretty calm after that Bedlam, but they certainly had their crush points, too. From the Seine, one is climbing a bit of a hill to reach the Place du Trocadéro. We opted to go along the side of the massive fountains. At first they just seemed like some pretty normal water spouts forming a line toward the Tower, but suddenly some massive water cannons shot their streams in a huge arc toward the tower. It was quite the sight! We scrambled for the stairs to reach the museum level. Natasha gasped, and then she pointed to the name “Zemmour” spray-painted in red on the wall above the stairs. The day of our walk was coincidentally the day of presidential elections in France, and this particular candidate backs gross racial ideologies.

We reached the museum level at last, and the sheets of items for sale were again dense on the ground. This high deck was once the home of the 1878 Trocadéro Palace, a rather bizarre bit of Moorish / Byzantine architecture intended as a massive theatre for the World’s Fair. It was replaced in 1937 by the Palais de Chaillot, constructed for the International Exposition at Paris. The central deck to which we had ascended was the site of an infamous photograph from 1940. Having taken Paris, the Nazi high command toured the city. Adolf Hitler would later give the (ignored) command to destroy the Eiffel Tower, but he used his photograph standing on the Trocadero hill in front of the Tower to mark his triumph over the French.

Musée de l’Homme

We were ready to stop walking and to get away from the crowds, so we dodged into the Musée de l’Homme (the same plaza offers an entrance to the architecture museum). South Africans have a reason to mistrust this museum; for years, the “Museum of Man” had long displayed the body of Saartjie Baartman, a Khoekoe woman who was frequently exhibited in the nude during life and even after her death to highlight her “steatopygic” form (enlarged buttocks and thighs). Her appearance was used to justify racial “othering” under the guise of science. Baartman’s remains were only returned to South Africa in 2002 after Nelson Mandela’s request in 1994. Her skeleton had been displayed until 1974, and her body cast had been displayed until 1976. We wanted to see Musée de l’Homme in its newest incarnation, since many of its artifacts had become part of the new Musée Quai Branly.

This replica skull is ostensibly from one of the greatest mathematicians of France, René Descartes. He was the creator of those lovely x-versus-y graphs that we all encounter in high school.

I had a “whoa!” moment when I encountered the skull of René Descartes (replica). It’s the sort of thing I’d expect to find in the Pantheon, not an ethnography museum.

The Museum of Man has a considerable history of storing human bodies and parts of bodies. Today, you can see a few skulls and skeletons on display, but it seems that most if not all human remains are now shown as replicas rather than originals. I think the museum warehouses of undisplayed items would be horrifying to visit. I certainly support the campaigns by nations around the world to repatriate the remains of their citizens, still retained by the museum.

The flight of busts climbs from the first floor through the mezzanine to the second floor.

As a former Imperial power, France has offered a lot of range for its ethnographers to survey the world. A centerpiece for the Museum of Man is the Envolée des Bustes, a boomerang-shaped curve in several lanes that climbs through the main body of the gallery. It is filled with busts representing people from all over the world. Some are artwork, and others were cast from people. It is doubtful that many of them gave their free consent to be cast in this way; coercion was quite commonly used.

Seïd Enkess, the “Sudanese born in Maick” looked ready to open his eyes at any moment.

I was interested in the story of Seïd Enkess, a former slave from Sudan, who became a professional model in Europe around the time of the abolition of slavery. He posed for both casts and busts, some of which can be found around the world. His portrayal in an idealized form helped sway some Europeans to oppose slavery.

This replica Venus of Lespugue illustrates the type of art humanity could produce 29,000 years ago. It was found in a cave during 1922 in the foothills of the Pyrenees.

I think many readers may have noticed that I am fascinated by prehistoric art, with particular highlights at St.-Germain-en-Laye and Tubingen. I was thrilled to see the Venus of Lespugue. Sadly, it’s been damaged since its discovery in 1922, and so reconstructions may be necessary to understand its design as a female with exaggerated curves (see the link). It is apparently our very first piece of art to suggest that humans had invented spun thread.

This mold celebrates one of the first evidences of cats living with humans approximately 7000 and 7500 years B.C.E. The Cat of Shillourokambos was found on Cyprus.

I would be remiss, of course, to fail to mention a cast from a human burial on Cyprus from the 8th millennium B.C.E. that revealed that a cat was buried with his or her human. Animals have been partners to humans for forever, y’all.

The contemporary exhibit of the Museum of Man has had a considerable facelift, and people who don’t know its past would probably enjoy its brightly-lit displays. A lot of the awfulness of prior iterations of the museum is now hidden away. I hope that repatriating its human remains can help heal wounds all over the world.

My love letter to the 15th of Paris

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For almost two full years, Natasha and I lived in Paris. More specifically, we called the 15th arrondissement “home:” these district numbers are used by almost everyone to locate a particular place, and the current numbers have been in use since 1860. The 15th is “rive gauche,” meaning it’s on the left bank of the Seine. The medieval city of Paris did extend a bit into this side, but back then the city’s foothold on the left bank was limited to today’s Latin Quarter, encompassing the University of Paris, and the abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Pres.

Eric Hazan summarized the difference between the two banks of the Seine during the reign of kings in very picturesque language:

The difference today – six arrondissements on the Left Bank against fourteen on the Right – is essentially due to the differing pace of development, the delayed urbanization on the left side. In the heyday of the ancien régime, while the Right Bank broke its official bounds, all empty spaces were filled, houses rose in height, and construction spilled over its authorized limits, the Left Bank seemed asleep in its colleges, convents and gardens, and did not even manage to fill up the space that regulation attributed to it.
The Invention of Paris, 2011

Each arrondissement supports its own mayor’s office. The 15th’s mairie frequently featured a Ukrainian flag to signal French support for Ukraine in defending itself against invaders.

Just as you might expect in the United States, a memorial to local soldiers who lost their lives in war can be found close to the mayor’s office.

As a result, “our” part of Paris was not annexed to the city proper until 1860. Instead, it was the site of three villages: Vaugirard, Grenelle, and Javel. The new arrondissement extended south from the Wall of the Farmers General (a barrier created to tax imports into Paris) to the Thiers wall. The area was hardly considered glamorous by Parisians, as it was largely given over to factories and chemical plants.

Our apartment was not far from the Peripherique, a boulevard belt surrounding central Paris. That placed us near Parc Andre Citroen, a lovely greenspace that replaced a large automobile factory. I worked for Institut Pasteur as a Visiting Scientist, so my “commute” was generally on foot, covering the 2.5 km distance between the sites. The main road near our apartment was Rue Lecourbe, which was a nearly direct road between the sites. If I’d just followed that route across to the lab, I would have passed by the mairie every day.

The Bibliothèque Vaugirard, next door to the Mairie, was our local library. I just loved the look of the place, but I visited just once near the end of our time there.

Square Saint-Lambert was a lovely green space close to the Mairie. Since apartment dwellers don’t have yards, these city greenspaces see significant use by joggers and children.

I often thought of the Mairie, the library, and the park as the nucleus for the 15th. Since the COVID pandemic was in full force most of the time we were in Paris, I generally thought of the Mairie as a vaccination center; we rarely went there for civic services since we were not homeowners. When I was on my walk to work, I often smiled when the library came into view because it was just lovely.

Sainte Marie De La Famille is a health clinic, not a church!

More typically, I left Rue Lecourbe just after crossing Rue de la Convention, a major shopping street for southwest Paris. I really liked the Sainte Marie De La Famille health clinic at Rue Blomet. From the picture above, you probably thought you were looking at a church! In 1888, the Sisters of Sainte-Marie de la Famille made this church into a surgical clinic. I loved walking by it each day.

Saint-Lambert of Vaugirard. To underscore how recent this part of Paris is, I note that this parish church was constructed only in 1848, replacing a dilapidated church from 1342. The famous Notre Dame church on the Ile de la Cite began construction in 1163!

Very soon after seeing the clinic, I would reach the parish church Saint-Lambert of Vaugirard. I often imagined myself in a little race with the clock each morning. If I reached Saint-Lambert by 8:00 AM, I could give myself a little break. This was facilitated, of course, by the church bells! In the photo above, I am looking at the back of the church (Square Gerbert-Blomet). Even better, this area is a place where Parisians walk their dogs in the morning, so I got to see any number of woofers chasing after balls in this space!

The beautiful facade of Saint-Lambert of Vaugirard faces Rue de Vaugirard. Being set back from the road gives its spire a nice framing between Parisian apartment buildings.

The neo-Romanesque apse of Saint-Lambert de Vaugirard is quite different from the grand choirs and ambulatories we saw in so many Gothic churches.

Quite apart from my commute to work, I will also remember Saint-Lambert de Vaugirard because of the tragic death of a friend of mine during the COVID pandemic. Some quiet time in its chapel seemed like the right place to remember him.

Church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste of Grenelle and its busy intersection

I don’t want to leave the 15th without also talking about some locations in its west. If you come to the intersection of Rue du Commerce and Rue des Entrepreneurs, you might expect to find a stock exchange. In Paris, however, that will bring you to the Church of Saint-Jean-Baptiste of Grenelle. The church, constructed in 1827-1828, gained an unexpected artifact during the restoration of Notre-Dame de Paris by Viollet-le-Duc. The altar at Saint-Jean-Baptiste originally stood in the much older Notre-Dame!

The Romaneseque resurgence in the nineteenth century also informed Saint-Jean-Baptiste’s design. The nave was remodeled for higher capacity in the 1920s.

Having introduced you to a church at Vaugirard and Grenelle, I don’t want to leave Javel out of the story. If we come back to the commercial Rue de la Convention, we can pass to the west until we’ve almost reached the Seine. There you’ll find the lovely bell tower of Saint-Christophe-de-Javel. Built between 1926 and 1930, the church was the first in the area to combine reinforced concrete elements that were cast on site. Saint-Christophe kept the more traditional Gothic layout than the other two churches I’ve mentioned above.

If you don’t have a wide-angle lens, you will not be able to reproduce this shot of Saint-Christophe-de-Javel. I composited a few photos to capture the height of the tower.

From Saint-Christophe, you’re just a couple blocks from the Beaugrenelle Shopping Center. While Natasha and I generally got by with local stores, occasionally we wandered over to see the big stores here. My blue rain jacket came from here.

The shiny glass facade definitely brings a mmodern look to the Beaugrenelle shopping center.

At last, we reach the Seine River! I did not include a photo looking north from Pont Mirabeau, but from there you can see one of Paris’ replicas of the Statue of Liberty (especially if you have a telephoto lens). Instead, the shot below represents a look at the Seine-side of the 15th, from essentially its western corner.

The view north from Pont du Garigliano shows the giant balloon in Parc Andre Citroen and the very top of the Eiffel Tower standing atop the tall buildings lining the Seine in the 15th.

Our love for Paris stems from the opportunity to live there, rather than visiting. It is a city of so much history, and beauty, and sadness, and above all real people. By living in the 15th, we did not feel like guests but rather like locals; we could complain about the noise at the sports bar down the street, we could enjoy the antics of the teenagers at the nearby school, and we could stroll around the roads like any other flâneur. We will always have a warm spot in our hearts for the neighborhoods that made that possible for us!

Lyon: The Confluence Museum

Lyon: Croix Rousse, Musée des Beaux-Arts, and the delights of Fourvière Hill

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March 28, 2022

If you are a museum fiend, Monday is the doldrums. I booked my ticket for the Fine Art Museum of Lyon, but I decided to supplement it with a ramble in search of silk workers and a run to Fourviere Hill’s amazing Roman ruins.

The staircase of the Cour des Voraces is not so very monumental, but this area was a key site of the protests of the silk workers in 1831.

The Croix Rousse hill has taken on a variety of faces with time, first being settled by Romans and later becoming home to the silk weaving industry. That community became powerful enough to lodge some powerful labor protests over time. A distinctive feature that the silk industry brought to Lyon was the construction of traboules, passageways that formed a covered warren of paths leading from the weavers to the Saone river quays. Later the WW2 resistance would use these passages for hiding contraband and messengers. I was able to find a well-known traboule on my morning walk. It was the Cour des Voraces, known in large part for its six-story exposed staircase. I tried several entrances to the area but kept turning back because it looked like I was heading into private property. The entrance at 9 Place Colbert, on the other hand, led straight into the courtyard with the staircase view. Though the passages from that courtyard are open to the public, I thought the graffiti and the dark were less than welcoming! Unsurprisingly, the canuts (silk workers) also thought their living and working conditions were poor, and they led a variety of protests throughout the nineteenth century to improve them.

Some of the views you can find atop Croix Rousse are likely to set off your vertigo.

Not too much further north, I came to the Maison des Canuts. It’s apparently a pretty cool heritage site where one can see a genuine Jacquard loom in operation and learn more about the plight of the silk workers. Yes, it is absolutely possible to buy Lyon-made silk items today. While I found the Maison, it was closed on a Monday (I had thought as much). On my walk back, I explored the “vue du Coquillat,” an observation deck overlooking the northern part of the city. I was pretty sure that Saint Bernard of Lyon church would have a good view toward the city center, but its grounds are home to a school, so I couldn’t just saunter in there. Instead I came southwest towards the Ampitheatre of Three Gauls, crossing down its east side (and losing a lot of altitutude on those stairs). I passed the Mairie of the 1st Arrondissement of Lyon and Place Sathonay. With just a couple more blocks I was at Place des Terreaux, the home of the art museum. Despite my circuitous route, I had arrived just five minutes after the museum opened.

Place des Terreaux shows the main facade of the Hotel de Ville, and it is also home to the art museum.

Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon

The museum building began its life as St. Peter’s Palace, constructed to rehome an ancient abbey. The first stone of the current building was laid in 1659, intended to complement the then-new city hall and create an open plaza between the two (previously the abbey had occupied that area). The Fine Arts Museum opened in 1803, absorbing the entirety of the palace and for the last century using the attached Church of Saint-Peter-des-Terreaux as its sculpture hall. It’s a pretty glorious setting for the art. It surrounds a courtyard that has been landscaped very prettily, and additional sculptures fill that space.

The museum’s guide included a Thematic Tour of Masterpieces, and I think they’ve chosen some good items to highlight. I particularly liked the Kore (young woman) statue from the Athens Acropolis and the bedroom designed by Hector Guimard for his wife (he’s not just known in Paris for his Art Nouveau skills).

La Douleur de Ludwig van Beethoven, by Leopold Renard in 1922

Of course I have my own favorites list for the museum visit. I enjoyed the anguish of Leopold Renard’s “the Pain of Ludwig Beethoven” (1922). I felt that the passion of the composer was a completely fitting theme to sculpt. I was captured by the almost tearful gaze of a funerary stele from the middle Euphrates (2nd century B.C.E.).

Funerary stele from 2nd century C.E., near Zeugma or Hierapolis

A late 14th century ivory diptyque carving of the Passion of the Christ was so intricate that I wonder how anyone could have etched its details. I got a big kick out of seeing a gold coin stamped in the reign of Vercingetorix. Auguste Morisot created a very special stained glass piece when he crafted “The Four Ages: Sleep, Dream, Reality, Memory” showing women at four different periods of their lives.

When I was examining Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret’s 1879 painting of “The Wedding at the Photographer,” I noticed an odd little detail down in the lower right corner. A rude uncle has headlocked a little boy and is blowing cigar smoke in his face! Of course I liked the Impressionist paintings there, but I found something stirring about Henri Martin’s “Buste de fillette,” where he creates a seemingly out-of-focus image of a red-headed girl’s face through the magic of oil paint.

Pascal Dagnan-Bouveret aptly illustrates the bad uncle.

Lyon’s Fine Art Museum has quite a lot to offer, and yet my feet were tired from hiking up and down the hill before coming. I stopped for some lunch at a restaurant on Place des Terreaux, and then I retired to the hostel for some time with my feet up.

Late afternoon on Fourvière

I didn’t re-emerge until after 16:00 when I resolved to photograph the city from Fourviere Hill. I used my 72-hour pass to get to Saint Jean Cathedral and took the funicular up. There are two counterweighted cars on the cable-car run, with one ascending each time as the other car descends. They use a single track, so halfway down the track splits to have the ascending car on the left and the descending car on the right. This system has been in place for 160 years, though the cars, engines, and cables have obviously been replaced.

The cable car to to the top of Fourvière is quiet and yet a bit thrilling.

As I rode the funicular, I mused that Natasha might not have wanted to take this ride on three grounds: 1) It’s all rather steep, and it might not be good for vertigo. 2) The seats all face up-hill, whether one is ascending or descending. 3) Much of the route is in a tunnel with stone walls, and it could feel rather claustrophobic. For my part, I still felt a sense of thrill to the experience.

Like Sacre Coeur in Paris, the Fourvière Basilica steps away from the Gothic, and its position atop a prominent hill cannot be beat!

One rises from the funicular station to stand before the facade of Fourvière Cathedral, and the gates and doors were open. I decided to venture inside, since I couldn’t remember doing so back in 1994. I found an interior quite like that of Sacre Coeur in Paris: lots of mosaics, a bit of a mish-mash of styles, and flashy stonework. It’s impressive, and yet I had inherited a bias from my guides to the city back in the 1990s, who mocked that church as the “crouching elephant.” I did come out to the viewing deck, though, to photograph the city. So much has changed since I last stood there! The skyline of Lyon is definitely changing. The “crayon” is no longer its tallest building, among other alterations.

Fourvière is still the best place to capture a panorama of Lyon (this is a composite of five portrait photographs).

From the cathedral, I passed a bit to the north, and in no time I had reached the Roman Amphitheatre. This is the place my friend Patrick brought me on the day I arrived in Lyon. Trying to stave off my first bout of jetlag by stomping around on Roman ruins filled me with a sense of wonder. And today? Well, it felt really different. Do I still get a kick out of walking on massive pavers the Romans laid down? Yes. Do I still take a picture of my hand resting on an old stone wall? Of course. But is my mind busily comparing Lyon’s ruined theatre to that of Orange? Definitely, and Orange is clearly the better preserved of the two. I clumped around the site for a while, having an imaginary conversation with the version of me who first visited Lyon all those years ago.

The earliest parts of the Théâtre antique de Lyon date from 15 B.C.E.

But soon enough I was ready to venture onward. I took the funicular and metro to Place Bellecour, and I paused to photograph the Hospital of Charity Tower again. I visited Pizza Cosy, just east of Bellecour, and I enjoyed a little pizza by myself (the other restaurants had full tables, but Pizza Cosy was oddly deserted). Given my paranoia at rubbing elbows with others in the pandemic, I was grateful for some space. The food was good, too! By the time I left, a party of eight had arrived to occupy the table behind me.

A lovely nod to the past: the Hospital of Charity Tower at Bellecour

I took the metro back to the City Hall, but I decided to sit outside for a while and talk with Natasha. I soon realized that two skateboarders were trying to film the perfect high-speed run over a set of stairs, across a grating covering subterranean parking structure, up in the air against a raised manhole cover, and then across the street into the plaza before the City Hall. I happened to be shooting video during a pass that made it most of that distance. It was a pretty epic end to my day.

Lyon: St. Martin d’Ainay, Gadagne Museums, and Resistance and Deportation History Center

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March 27, 2022

After a chaotic night in the hostel, I awoke around 7:30. I was intending to sleep a bit more, but someone locked themselves out of our shared room, and I missed a rung on my way down the ladder of my bunk bed and landed on my left knee. I did my best to pack myself a shower bag, and I was out at Place des Terreaux a little after eight AM.

City Hall looks good in the morning light!

The morning light really favored the late-17th century Hotel de Ville (City Hall), and I really liked the massive equestrian fountain near the center of the Place, too. I hope to come back to it tomorrow for some time at the Fine Arts Museum.

St. Martin d’Ainay

My early rise, though, had created an opportunity. I knew that the oldest church still operating in Lyon had services starting at 9AM, and so I would have a chance to see the inside! I reached St. Martin d’Ainay by hopping on the metro. I arrived about 20 minutes before the hour and entered. Since the church was opening for a service and not for tourists, I left my camera in the bag, but I was absolutely delighted by what I could see with my eyes.

The church interior features beautiful mosaics in the dome over the altar, and bright patterns of color with good lighting make it a really inviting space. The side chapels and baptistry have an entirely different look to them; I get the impression that the restorers have done miracles on the main nave but haven’t had a crack at the sides yet. I was standing next to the baptistry when the bells began ringing to remind late-arriving parishoners to shake a leg, so I slid out the main door after someone else entered so that they could have their service without a weird interloper.

From the outside, you might expect a dark interior!

This view of the Abbey of Ainay comes from an 1895 book on the ancient convents of Lyon. In past centuries, the abbey was quite close to the confluence of the Saône and Rhône Rivers. Today the peninsula runs another kilometer to the south.

I returned to the Bonaparte bridge and goggled at the lovely morning sun reflecting from Vieux Lyon. Notre Dame de Fourviere looked particularly beautiful in the morning light. I crossed the bridge behind an English-language tour group, and I resisted the urge to enter St. George’s since they had a service in progress, too. I was happy to see the base station of the funiculaire lines to climb the hill; in 1994, I used those routes for my commute to the lab. I shot a little video of the cable car starting its ascent. With about 90 minutes to go before the Museum of the History of Lyon opened its doors, I had some surplus time on my hands.

The morning light catches Vieux Lyon just right.

First, I did something about breakfast. The Boulangerie du Palais was close at hand, and I was able to acquire two freshly-baked pains au chocolat for only two euros. I sat on the edge of a public fountain nearby and contemplated the quiet of Place Neuve Saint-Jean; I would pass it later in the day and it was ringing with the voices of happy diners, so the moment of quiet was good to have in the bank. Suddenly filled with energy, I started ascending Fouviere Hill by the road passing in front of Gare Saint-Paul.

Seemingly all of Vieux Lyon consists of historic buildings and scenic squares!

I had been able to capture quite a few images of cool Renaissance buildings and the Temple du Change, and the hightened elevation let me look out over the city as the morning dew evaporated. Crazy, steep stair-streets linked the road I was climbing to the roads below. After climbing for a while I decided to save the hike for a moment when the sun would be in the right place to capture a cityscape (aiming into the sun is not the right plan of attack). I came down Mnt du Garillan, which twisted back and forth a few times but dumped me in front of the museum.

Viewed from the hill, St. John’s Cathedral seems almost boxy. At the left, the Charity Hospital tower stands guard at Place Bellecour.

Les Musées Gadagne

The large “Guignol Clock” struck 10:30, and the museum opened its doors. I was glad to see my ticket gave me access to both the Museums for History of Lyon and the Arts of Marionettes. I will say this for the History of Lyon Museum: it knows that it has a complex city evolution to describe, and it does it as simply and straightforwardly as possible. The museum occupies one of the largest of the Renaissance mansions remaining in Vieux Lyon, and yet it has a pretty straightforward path to follow from the first exhibit to the last. I think one of the oddest aspects of the layout is that when you have reached the highest public floor of the museum (three floors above the ground floor), you have access to the garden atop the building. Yes, having a “green roof” has some very old antecedents, and you can even take a little lunch surrounded by the garden on the roof.

A Jacquard machine attached to a loom makes it possible to “program” how yarns were woven into textiles.

As for exhibits, I think the Museum of the History of Lyon is a little light; they’ve emphasized telling the story above showcasing the stuff. There are some cool paintings that shows the city’s evolving layout, for example showing Fourviere Hill long before the 19th century church was constructed there. I was moved by an 1854 painting that depicted the destruction of the Saint-Clair bridge across the Rhone due to flooding. I think the Jacquard machine was one of the most remarkable objects on display; did you know that they were early steps to programmable computers? I really liked the way the museum covered the modern Lyon, whether we put that dividing line at the Montgolfier Brothers‘ first balloon flight or the Haussmann-like destruction of medieval neighborhoods to craft big boulevards through the Presque-Isle. The musem continued, though, to include the major development in the 1970’s of the Part-Dieu corporate tower and shopping center as well as the investments in extending and re-developing the Confluence area (in the years since I last visited the city!). I was particularly wowed that the museum noted that the strict control of the Rhone and Saone Rivers’ channels had led to environmental damage; will the city recreate wetlands to reduce the strains of flooding? This is really good stuff for a city history museum, in my view.

Joseph Chalier agitated for the French Revolution and was executed by Royalists at the Lyon guillotine. After his death, replica busts became popular.

When Americans learn about the French Revolution, I think we learn rather more about the events surrounding Paris than we do elsewhere. The museum had a very interesting room devoted to the Revolution’s impact on Lyon. Just as Robespierre was an important figure driving the Revolution and then dying by the Revolution in Paris, Joseph Chalier was a key figure in supporting Revolution and eventually the Jacobins’ actions in Lyon. Lyon, however, was a hotbed of Royalist sentiment, and Chalier was one of the first people to be beheaded by the guillotine he established in Place Bellecour. I don’t want to dwell on this point, but it’s worth noting that a guillotine blade deployed in Lyon in 1793 (yes, the year Chalier was beheaded) hangs on the wall of this gallery of the museum. During the French Revolution, Lyon was dishonored by replacing its name with “Liberated City.” You can imagine that Napoleon gained a lot of popularity in the area by using its name again and personally placing the first brick to restore the facades of Place Bellecour that had been destroyed by vengeful armies.

I found the sight of puppets and marionettes hanging on display a bit disquieting.

The Marionette museum was also very well-executed. I was unable to spend a long time there, in part because every exhibit reminded me of a dear puppeteer friend who lost his life in the ongoing COVID epidemic. Lyon, however, is absolutely the right place for a puppet museum, since the character “Guignol” was created here by Laurent Mourguet. It was a bit of a thrill to see one of these puppets crafted in 1808 in person. The museum does not limit itself to this character by a long shot, though. One of the first rooms one enters in the museum has one surrounded by huge variety of puppets in cases surrounding the visitor. They were… ghostly? It’s just a bit weird to see these figures that we expect to be so animated to be standing still in a display case. The videos used frequently throughout the museum, however, are very well selected and executed. They’re not specific to just Europe, either, with Asia and Africa being represented, too. (I didn’t see a Howdy Doody or Lambchop, though.) I liked the foam rubber cariacatures of politicians!

The square before St. John’s was enough to trigger my agoraphobia!

In any case, I soon exited to Vieux Lyon, but something big had started in the interim. A great race, the “Lyon Urban Trail” was underway, and I needed to wait for an opening between groups of runners to navigate out of the area. I took the metro past the Presque-Isle to the east side of the Rhone.

Resistance and Deportation History Center

After a quick lunch, I walked south several blocks to the Center of History of the Resistance and of Deportation. The neighborhood was definitely not as tourist-centric as Vieux Lyon. Plenty of ordinary Lyonnais were doing their thing, so I didn’t really feel unsafe, but the graffiti around me did make me a bit more cautious over there.

The museum of French Resistance and Deportations is telling two stories with lots of links between them. They strongly encourage visitors to watch a 45-minute film from 1992 covering the 1987 Trial of Klaus Barbie. It is definitely not a light topic, and I am sure that even some of the young teenagers in the audience would have some questions for parents after watching it, let alone children. The film shows the graphic testimony of people who personally suffered at the hands of Barbie or from those taking his orders during the Second World War. Some of them were children, some of them were Jews, and some of them were resistance. It is clear that Barbie simply refused to believe any of them were human. I have watched rather a lot of documentary material on the Holocaust and visited many sites linked to it throughout Europe, and I found some of the testimony left me in tears.

This “Minerve” press saw action in World War II in the publication of “Combat” and “Liberation.” Three publishers died when the printing site was surrounded by the Gestapo in 1944.

I was in a bit of a daze when I made it into the center’s permanent exhibit, then. Since exhibit captions are in French, the curators have assembled a complete book of ~100 pages that documents every exhibit in the language of the visitor. It’s definitely helpful, though not an easy skim. The center is on the grounds of the 1889 military medical school that was forced into service as the Gestapo headquarters after the Nazi occupation in the spring of 1943. Many of the documents on display are important but perhaps don’t seem so emotional. I liked the air-dropped supply canister to support resistance efforts near Lyon, and the display of a Sten gun that could be disassembled to three easily hidden parts was neat, too. I learned more about why Jean Moulin is revered, too. I hadn’t realized he was a politician of some importance before become an organizational figure in the Resistance. It took a lot of bravery and diplomacy to coordinate the Free French under De Gaulle with the resistance fighters located in France itself. As I neared the end of the permanent exhibit, I passed through a model house of the time, featuring a photo of Marshall Petain over the radio and a clandestine printing press in the basement. That felt pretty evocative. The final video was well-attended, but I gave it a pass because both the spoken and subtitle language was French. I am glad I could see the Center.

With that, my busy museum day drew to a close!

Reacquainting myself with Lyon

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March 26, 2022

Admittedly, I arrived in Lyon a stressed mess. I departed Lausanne, Switzerland, by purchasing a duplicate ticket; the e-ticket I had purchased in France could not be printed at the Swiss train station. My cell phone data and voice package had expired while I was in Switzerland, so I couldn’t update my loved ones on my status. Nonetheless, I arrived successfully at the Lyon train station: “Part-Dieu.”

I have grown accustomed to Paris’ arrangement, where each direction of train departs from a different station, so disembarking right in the center of downtown Lyon was a bit more chaos than I was prepared to handle! I decided to make my way to the large shopping mall next door for lunch; my memories from 1994 suggested it would have everything I needed. WOW! After nearly thirty years, the Westfield mall at Part-Dieu was unrecognizeable. From ground level, I climbed three floors by escalator to enter on its food court, but that term really doesn’t do it justice. The food area covers an entire floor of impressive square footage, and it was simply loaded with people. I sought the Orange mobile store to update my phone’s data plan, and that had me descend all the way to the “Rez-de-chaussée,” or 0 floor. The sales agents were uncomfortable in English, but we managed to get the job done in French.

A very young Dave visits Part-Dieu in 1994.

I wanted to leave the mall, but I struggled a bit to figure out which exits were on the west side toward my destination, which floors were the exit level, and which exits weren’t blocked by construction. My fourth try got the job done, but I exited into an untidy, derelict area that seemed to have been forgotten by time. I was able to descend to street level, where plenty of people were going my direction. I followed Cours Lafayette to the west, since I knew it ended in a bridge across the Rhône River.

Lyon is a rewarding place to explore on foot!

Lyon is located in an obvious place for a major city. The confluence of the Saône and Rhône rivers has them running parallel for a few kilometers before joining, and the land in between is a peninsula of sorts, in French called a “presqu’île.” To the north and west, tall hills guard the peninsula. Even the Romans could see how valuable this real estate was. As a result, Lyon has a two-thousand year history. I would be staying in Croix Rousse, the highlands to the north of the peninsula, at the “Away Hostel and Coffee Shop,” right next to the Croix-Paquet metro station. Naturally, after refilling my belly, I headed for the nearest Roman ruins, just about half a kilometer west. That looks very small on the map, but almost every step was uphill. I was surprised that the gate to the Amphitheater of the Three Gauls was closed, since it is listed as open 24 hours. Just the same, I could get a decent picture. It’s one of the sites where we have ancient sources that attest to its use for martyring Christians (though probably not all of the 48 named victims died at this site).

The amphitheatre of the the Three Gauls, Lyon

I enjoyed my descent on Mnt de la Grande-Côte. It’s a UNESCO heritage-protected pedestrian way, half ramp and half staircase (did I mention the area is steep?). Natasha would have loved strolling this area, since every other shop seemed to be a artist’s gallery or craft shop. I was stunned at how many tourists I encountered, but perhaps the same would have been true of Montmartre in Paris, in many respects very similar. I turned to the west to cross the Saône river at a bridge.

The Saône lines the west side of the Lyon peninsula.

I had reached the edge of Vieux Lyon, the part of the city that developed in the Medieval era. if I thought the Croix Rousse area was crowded, Vieux Lyon was a very rude awakening! People were everywhere, to the extent that the pedestrian roads were a logjam, leaving me trying to find the rivulets that were still flowing in my direction. Every coffee house and ice cream shop had a long line snaking out of it, and a talented group of musicians were making a joyful noise in a little plaza (the only unoccupied space was around the hat for donations!).

Saturday afternoon crowds in the narrow streets of Vieux Lyon

I decided to dive into the warren of streets away from the river, and I was thrilled by the store fronts that dated back to the 15th century and more. Vendors have been minting money in old Lyon for hundreds of years. It’s not surprising that I soon passed the Temple du Change, formerly the stock exchange but altered to a Protestant church in 1803 (also part of UNESCO World Heritage).

If memory serves, this was a detail from a side of the Temple du Change.

As I passed further south, I realized I was passing the Court of Appeals for Lyon, the house of lawyers, and then the real prize of the neighborhood, the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist. Well, you know how I am about Gothic Cathedrals. This was the first one I ever loved, back in 1994. It dates from the 14th century, but the footings of churches back to the 5th century occupy an archaeology park next to it! I was delighted to see children playing among the ruins, enjoying a former nave below today’s ground level.

Having visited a lot of French Gothic churches by this time, I wondered if I would still find Saint John to be impressive. Yes, I still do. It has been such a fixture in Lyon since long before the French Revolution that it has some real history on its bones. Sure, the renovation taking place on its organ takes up a lot of space, but the rose windows still looked amazing in the “magic hour” sunlight, and the mysterious, ponderous horloge parked in its transept is just as curious as ever. It seemed pretty apparent that the church was serving tourists rather than parishoners on this Saturday evening, but it’s a big draw!

In the past, time-keeping was considered more arcane. Horloge, St. John’s Cathedral

My first rose window was St. John’s in Lyon.

I had planned to cross the Saône on Pont Bonaparte to return to the Presqu’île, but a protest march was headed my way after the marchers had launched fireworks on the far side of the river. Natasha’s advice about avoiding police in foreign countries echoed in my ear, and I walked downstream instead. I snapped a photo of Saint George Church of Lyon and crossed its pedestrian bridge. I was out of the flow of other toursts at last! It’s a bit ironic that I sought out Place Bellecour, which seems to play the same role for Lyon that the Luxembourg Gardens do for Paris. It’s a big area of playgrounds, sports areas, and planted spaces. I really liked that it features the Bell Tower of the Hospital of Charity, a real beauty that is featured on the cover of a famous history of the city. It’s nice to have a civic space that is open enough to let you see some of the skyline– the rivers are good for this, too. I also snapped a photo of Louis the XIV on horseback, but then we saw much more of him at Versailles! Apparently, it is also the largest pedestrian-only civic square in Europe. It’s appropriate that Louis XIV appears there since he acquired the area to create this public space. Naturally the French Revolution decorated the square by installing a guillotine.

The Hospital of Charity bell tower sits at the edge of Place Bellecour.

I was almost done with my wander, but I decided to pause for a light dinner on the pedestrian Rue Victor Hugo and then cross Place Ampere to visit the Basilica of Saint Martin d’Ainay. In a city of old churches, this Abbey is pretty special. Its church was consecrated in 1107 C.E., which I believe makes it the oldest still-standing church in Lyon. It’s a Romanesque beast of thick walls. Considering that the French Revolution did terrible damage to almost every church structure in France, the Abbey’s fate of becoming a grain store was not the worst outcome. It has served as a Parish Basilica since 1905.

My last bit of wandering took me on a long walk to see if I could reach the Confluence of the two rivers. I wandered south and realized I was leaving the tourist disticts well behind, with more graffiti on the walls around me. Things got better when I shifted west to Cours Charlemagne. I was treated to quite the site of the new Confluence shopping center. It became apparent to me that the Part-Dieu mall was not going to be the only big boy in town! I wandered far enough south to see the massive contemporary Musee des Confluences, a museum of anthropology, but I decided to head back to my hostel.

This shopping mall was created as part of an effort to revitalize the “Confluence,” the tip of the peninsula between the rivers.

I bought a 72-hour ticket for the metro system (less than 17 euros) and took the (shiny, new) tram back up to Perrache, where I caught the line A metro up to the Hotel de Ville (city hall) stop. The area was looking amazing at night, with colored lights and a sparkling crowd between the opera and city hall. I was glad to see the blue and yellow lights on the statues of the opera facade; the support for Ukraine against Russia’s invasion is very apparent here.

Originally built in 1831, the Lyon Opera was substantially modernized in 1993.

I had just a few blocks left to reach my hostel. I learned that the room I’m in will also be hosting a group of guys here for a bachelor party. They asked me to take a group photo for them, so I obliged. I wonder how much sleep I’ll get!

The University City of Tübingen, Germany

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December 7, 2021

When the chance arises for me to visit a new city through my academic work, I always hope to incorporate a day in the agenda when I can visit the city itself. I was very grateful that my friend Kyowon Jeong volunteered his time to walk me around the charming old town of Tübingen.

Kyowon Jeong and I attended the International Mass Spectrometry Conference at Maastricht in August of 2022.

The Sternstunde of 1477

The pattern that makes Tübingen so distinctive was set more than half a millennium ago. The earliest records of the town (1231 C.E.) center on the castle on the hill (“Hohentübingen“) and a small community living around it. The town’s “moment of greatness” came under Count Eberhard V (who became the first Duke of Württemberg at the 1495 Diet of Worms). In 1477, the 32-year-old Count founded the University of Tübingen, launching a building campaign that constructed more than 50 new structures in the next quarter-century, creating one of the very first university cities (this is not the same thing as a city that gained a university, such as Bologna, Italy in 1088). When the Reformation came to Tübingen in 1534, the new university city became one of the principal sites for incorporating the Lutheran confession. (Note: Before you speak of Count Eberhard V as a great humanist, be aware that he has a prominent antisemitic legacy.)

The Neckar waterfront seems to be the photograph everyone takes!

Back in the present day, Kyowon Jeong and I had a delightful couple of hours wandering. Tübingen arose on bluffs and a valley north of the Neckar River. The view from the south side of the Neckar is pretty outstanding, with houses seemingly built on top of each other! I liked what I saw from the castle, too, with red tile roofs in every direction. Oliver Kohlbacher, who hosted my trip, noted that the only German university older than the University of Tübingen is the University of Heidelberg, so the two cities have had a long rivalry.

St. George’s Church was tightly tied to the growth of the university as they were founded during the same period.

Kyowon suggested that we start our walk at the prominent St. George’s Collegiate Church of Tübingen. Its spire is pretty hard to miss, given its position high on the slopes of the castle hill. The tower seems to serve as both a campagnile (bell tower) and as a clock, which would be an unusual feature in a Parisian church. The fountain in the square outside features St. George battling the dragon. The church has pointed vaults inside, with geometric tracing across its nave ceiling that I did not expect. Some of its stained glass windows are quite lovely, too, such as its portrayal of the Passion.

Right across from the church entrance, though, is a jarring bit of history; the building standing there served as the 1936 home base for the director of the Gestapo. In 1941, it was the center of operations for the effort to deport Jews to their deaths. The young people of Tübingen have expressed their feelings about the building by liberally decorating its ground floor with graffiti. My host noted that the building in which the school of Informatics is currently housed was also constructed for the Nazis, with powerfully built support columns and beams and some rather nordic-looking art at the entrance way. The shadow of the past has not been forgotten in Tübingen.

The Tübingen town hall on a wintry morning

The town hall itself had recently emerged from restoration, so it looked just glorious. Its facade offers Baroque paintings of statues in gold, and the gable with tiny surrounding windows was really beautiful. I liked a tiny little round balcony above ground level to allow a mayor to speak to the people. Kyowon and I both liked the statue of Poseidon standing in front, though of course the fountains had been powered down for winter. There’s an odd little painted sculpture of a nude person encircled by a garland on the corner post of the town hall.

Those steep roofs are good for shedding snow.

I have written about the lovely half-timbered facades of Rouen, and in Tübingen one can see the same. The city hall square and many shopping streets show these old structures, and most of them are in quite good condition. At our dinner on Tuesday evening, we were inside a building that featured the half-timbered facade on the outside with a new interior that borrowed from the building’s past as a winery. I love the character that those buildings give to a pedestrian in the old town!

The Tübingen city museum has accumulated a lot of history in its structure and in its exhibits.

It was a shame that the Stadtmuseum (city history museum) was not open on a Tuesday morning, or Kyowon and I might have enjoyed that. Definitely don’t schedule your visit to Tübingen on a Monday or Tuesday, or you risk seeing neither that nor the castle museum! We did like the Ammer Brook flowing through town. Nearby, I was able to shoot a photo of this cool turret at a street corner. The area between the Neckar and Ammer corresponds to the “old town,” so after passing it we were in far newer surrounds.

The corner turret at 5 Judengasse marks the spot where the Ammer Brook was canalized and covered by a street.

Soon thereafter, Kyowon and I vanished into a shop selling Christmas decorations. He kindly bought a pair of angel ornaments for Natasha and me. I am very lucky in my friends.

90 minutes in Stuttgart

December 8, 2021

The 18th century Neues Schloss was begun as a ducal castle but finished as a royal one. Today it houses government offices.

Taking the train between Paris and Tübingen involves a long leg at high speed (between Paris and Stuttgart) and a short leg on a local train (between Stuttgart and Tübingen). I arrived at the train station early on my way back to Paris, so I was able to take an earlier train to Stuttgart. Unlike airports, most European train stations are near the centers of town, so I was able to wander outside the train station to see the sights of central Stuttgart. It was entirely worth it.

The Schillerplatz features a dour statue of the poet and playwright Friedrich Schiller.

I would suggest you aim your feet for “Schlossplatz,” literally “castle place.” The walk will take you past the opera house and the art museum, and then you can see both the “new” castle and the old castle (which dates back to tenth-century foundations). Today the old castle houses the Wuerttemberg museum; I only wish I had left time to see it!

The Stiftskirche claims a 700 year history.

The market hall and collegiate church seemed very narrow to ascend higher than its stones coould bear. I wandered into the Koenigsbau shopping center in hopes of finding a portable lunch, but nothing was open before 10 AM. I was able to pop into the visitor’s center in hopes of finding some gluten-free chocolate for Natasha, but the gift assortments didn’t avoid gluten.

The Königstraße leading southwest from the train station offers any kind of business you might like.

Still, I had the chance to see some beautiful buildings with interesting histories. I popped back into the train station, navigating around its ongoing construction. It seems that the station will be quite beautiful when the extensive rebuilding is complete! I hopped aboard the ICE train heading west, and soon I was traveling 319 km/h west to Paris.

Picking Up The Tabb

Changing course in a biomedical research career

Dijon: Seeking Coffee but Finding a Botanical Garden

Jardin botanique de l’Arquebuse

Dijon: The Tower, two museums, and a sausage too far

Tour Philippe le Bon

Museum of Burgundian Life

Archaeological Museum of Dijon

Dijon: Getting our Feet on the Ground

We salute the Champ de Mars, the Trocadéro, and the Musée de l’Homme

Champ de Mars

The Trocadéro

Musée de l’Homme

My love letter to the 15th of Paris

Lyon: The Confluence Museum

Lyon: Croix Rousse, Musée des Beaux-Arts, and the delights of Fourvière Hill

Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon

Late afternoon on Fourvière

Lyon: St. Martin d’Ainay, Gadagne Museums, and Resistance and Deportation History Center

St. Martin d’Ainay

Les Musées Gadagne

Resistance and Deportation History Center

Reacquainting myself with Lyon

The University City of Tübingen, Germany

The Sternstunde of 1477

90 minutes in Stuttgart