happy bastille day

Thirteen years ago, when I went to celebrate Bastille Day at the Eiffel Tower for the first time, I never thought that it would be my last (to date).

Yet it was a memorable experience.

The day had been memorable so far, as I spent the morning with Alexandre and many others lined up along the Champs-Elysées to watch the military parade, during which I got a very quick glimpse of a Nicolas Sarkozy waving to the crowd from the presidential car as it passed by.

The evening brought a welcome opportunity to chill, after battling for a chance to see tanks drive by and fighter jets fly by.

I went to meet Chi-Yang and some of his friends on Champ de Mars, where an huge, festive picnic was taking place. In the distance, near Ecole Militaire, musicians such as Nelly Furtado, Stanislas, and Michel Polnareff took turns performing sets on a large stage that had been set up.

And then the fireworks came. As I snapped pictures, "La Valse d'Amélie", a track from the Amélie soundtrack, started playing and I got giddy. "I know that song!", I said excitedly, to anyone who would listen. Having arrived in France only five months before, I felt in that moment a little more French.

why i love paris (11)

One Saturday in January, I took up an invitation from my friend Anne, a fellow urban sketcher, to meet inside Eglise Saint-Etienne du Mont to draw. I had never been inside this church just beside the Pantheon, and I almost certainly had not heard of it. But after stepping inside, what a beauty to behold!

I joined Anne in the back row facing the central balcony and got to sketching the view in front of me. The initial goal was to let loose a bit by doing without my usual measuring points on the paper and feeling out the proportions more instinctively. Which I accomplished. After that, the penchant for detail caught up with me. As the sketch was taking shape, I took more interest in it -- so much that I came back the following day to the same spot to fill out the double page of my sketchbook with the rich, lovely matter that laid before my eyes.

It turned out to my first sketch ever in a church, and I am glad it happened in Paris.

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The 48th Worldwide SketchCrawl was scheduled for Saturday July 25, 2015 and, as for preceding SketchCrawls, the Paris Sketchers crew planned to do something grand. Joining groups of sketchers who were participating in more than sixty cities all over the world, about thirty of us came together in Paris to spend a day drawing at a chosen location. This location was Parc Floral, a part of the botanical gardens of Paris network, on the southeastern end of Paris. Two weeks prior to the event, I had gone to the park with Agnès, Blandine, Valie, and Estelle to scout for places where we could meet, have lunch, and drink on event day. We knew that Agnès, who was spearheading the effort of planning the SketchCrawl for Paris Sketchers, would not be in town on the big day. As her fellow group co-moderator, I decided to take the reins in her absence. In reality, all I had to do was to announce the already perfect agenda on our website, as well as on the SketchCrawl online discussion forum. Yet I hesitated because the weather forecast website could not guarantee a rain-free day that many days in advance. Chances of rain were slim but still, I fretted. We did not have any backup location. And it did not help at all that the park was a largely outdoor (read: roofless) area. In the worst case scenario that I imagined, the forty or so of us would spend the day inside the park's two restaurants and the few small buildings housing bonsai plants. Moderately comfortable with this idea, I went online and hit Publish. In the words of Seth Godin, I had shipped.

Map of Parc Floral

I started the day of the SketchCrawl quite worried about how the event would turn out, due to the strong winds and rain showers that woke me up at about 6am and that would last until the cold came by. We may have been in the middle of the summer season, but it did not feel much like summer that morning. Undeterred, I got myself physically and mentally ready to go to Parc Floral. It was great to take a bus that was going there directly from my neighborhood ‒ the second time in three consecutive SketchCrawls that I had been able to do that. Even better, the trip was short; it lasted just ten minutes.

It was about 9:30am when I made it to the park entrance. I passed through the door and waited nearby until 10am before advancing further (10am because that was the time of the first rendezvous, in a restaurant inside the park called Le Bosquet). Some minutes later, Pierre and Annie, the latter of whom had just arrived from Rouen, stepped inside the park. I went over to greet them, officially meeting Annie, who I had seen at a SketchCrawl at Cité des sciences et de l'industrie the previous year. I had already met Pierre, also during a SketchCrawl. Besides, I had spotted him fifteen minutes earlier in the cafe where we would all be meeting at the end of the afternoon.

The three of us walked towards Le Bosquet on a beaten road flanked by lush greenery. When we arrived, we settled down at a table inside. Within the next fifteen minutes, we were about seven people at the table. Another fifteen minutes later, we were nine. And during all this time, the sun became more and more present, to the joy of everyone. Delighted, I posted a message online via my smartphone to try reassuring those who were on the fence. I do not know if it worked, but the sun would shine brightly the rest of the day. Like in the summer.

After having coffee, most people went off to different areas in the park in search of something to sketch. I stayed in the restaurant to welcome those who were going to arrive, passing the time on the sketch below. It is a view outside from the central entrance of the restaurant. Fortunately, I was able to finish it some minutes before lunchtime.

We convened at Le Bosquet at 1pm. We were about twenty in number, and the sun was all out. Most people sat at tables outside on the terrace, while a few others had a picnic on the grass a few steps away. Over lunch, everyone naturally took the time to chat a bit and some even showed the drawings that they had done of the day so far. It was a lovely scene.

We all left the restaurant around the same time, at about 2pm. While the rest of the group went off in different directions to sketch some more, I stayed behind. I had another idea: why not go take photos of the other sketchers at work? The park being rather huge (thirty hectares), I was neither able to see everything nor find each group member in the three hours that I spent. I suspected that some were part of the audience in the Espace Delta, where Imani Winds was performing as part of the Paris Jazz Festival, and that others were in the more remote areas of the park that had a forest kind of vibe. As for a couple of "non-sightings", it was just a matter of no luck; we were at the right place all right, but not there together at the right time.

In spite of this setback, I manage to make use of the photos that I did take.

The final gathering was scheduled at 5pm at Le Drapeau, the cafe situated opposite the main entrance of Château de Vincennes and at about five minutes north of the park. A few sketchers were already there and others joined them over time. I was among the late arrivals ‒ by 20 to 30 minutes ‒ and a couple of others arrived even much later than I did. Over two hours in a friendly atmosphere, people shared their sketchbooks and discussed all sorts of things from materials to techniques, including the SketchCrawl itself.

In all, there were about 35 people who participated in the SketchCrawl, or part of it. And given the state of mind that I was in before the event, I was very glad that it turned out well, from start to finish.


UPDATE
This past Monday, May 16, 2016, I organized another Paris Sketchers outing to Parc Floral. It was not for a SketchCrawl; it was Whit Monday (a public holiday in France, but not for everyone), I had the day off work and just thought about returning to the park ‒ before the jazz festival began and therefore entry required a fee ‒ to do something other than take photos. Something like drawing, and doing so the whole day (like at a SketchCrawl). Fortunately, other sketchers were game (about 20) and came along to join in the fun.
Below are my sketches from the day:

Espace Delta

Fontaine monumentale

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Shortly after 9am on Tuesday, April 7, 2015, I joined fellow Paris Sketchers in front of Shakespeare and Company, the famed English bookstore on the left bank of the Seine river, in Paris.  Brigitte had organized an exclusive sketching session there, to start an hour before the bookstore was open to the public and notably to the tourists.  It was an event that I could not miss, especially since I had personally attempted almost a year before to obtain permission for a group of us sketchers to draw there.  I had not gone very far in this initiative, due to complications of having about a dozen people drawing in a commercial venue that was also iconic, somewhat confined, and often crowded, with visitors outnumbering shoppers.  Luckily, Brigitte, who had recently become a Paris Sketcher, decided to take up the challenge all on her own, as if it was a natural thing to do and without knowledge of my previous efforts.  And it was a challenge that she pulled off with gusto.

It was so cool just walking to the bookstore that morning, from the Cité metro station, past Notre-Dame, and across the Seine.  Surely, the half-day off from work was a big reason for that.  Also, there was the old yet pleasant feeling of being in the heart of Paris.  I may have lived in Paris for more than eight years, but I can still be delighted at the idea of rediscovering a popular part of the city.  Like a tourist.

It was even cooler joining the ten or so sketchers who had showed up on time in front of the bookstore.  Brigitte, Sophie, Martine, Marion, Blandine, Béatrice, Gu, Claire, Joelle, and Constance, who I met for the first time.  The moment felt special, as if we were about to set out together on a secret mission.  Soon enough, the bookstore was open and we filed in.  Eriko arrived just in time, before the door was closed.  I wondered if latecomers would be allowed in.  Then my attention shifted to what was happening inside the room.

We were given a warm welcome by Camille, a store representative and our contact person for the day (who would in the next hour come around to offer us coffee ‒ nice!!!), before we set off scouring the different rooms and hallways across the two floors in search of something worth sketching.

I started things off in a room on the top floor whose walls were bordered for the most part by shelves filled with books, books, and more books.  A door leading to a somewhat hidden room and a window providing a view of Notre-Dame completed the wall decor.  Several sketchers, notably Blandine, Martine, and Constance, had already taken up their spots and were indulging in a chatter as they drew.  I saw some space on a long bench and settled myself there.

It was only when I had finished ‒ around 10am ‒ that I realized that I should have spent the visitor-free hour on the ground floor, which tended to be more crowded because everyone passed by there.  Besides, that was where the cash registers were.  Trying to make up for the missed opportunity, I rushed downstairs.  Even though the store was already open to the public, even though groups of passers-by had become a constant occurrence, I was dead set on making my second sketch there.  Giving me hope was Brigitte, who I found seated on the ground in a room near the entrance, with her large sketchbook wide open and its pages adorned with a variety of colors.  I told her about the situation that I was in and, to my astonishment, she managed to find me something to sit on!  She ended up pulling out a stool that was underneath a nearby table, but in a way that let one think that she had not known it was hidden there.  It was like magic.  Enthralled, I tried to show my gratitude by sketching some of the view that she was already giving the watercolor treatment.

2 hours, 2 sketches.  I was quite satisfied with my pace.  Lunch was scheduled for 12:30pm in La Bûcherie, a restaurant very close to the bookstore, which meant that I could easily embark on a third sketch.  There was a small room on the top floor with a piano that everyone (or so it seemed) had sketched in.  I had dropped by earlier for a quick tour and it did look interesting indeed.  So I went back upstairs to try my luck.  Once inside, I was lucky enough to find a spot facing the piano, on the other end of the room.  I was not without company.  Eriko, Lionel, Gu, and Blandine were also present.  Some non-sketchers came by or were already there, to look around, to browse through books, or to read more comfortably seated next to us.  A curious few engaged in conversations in English with a sketcher or two.  All the while, I drew on, amused.

Around 12:30pm, I thanked the staff members that I saw and stepped out of the bookstore.  The (relative) calm that was present outside in the morning had long disappeared, which was hardly surprising.  Most of the sketchers were already there and I accompanied them to the restaurant.  There were about 15 of us to accommodate, including Camille, but the waiters made it work.  At the table, we passed sketchbooks around, commenting here and complimenting there.  It was a nice way to wrap up a fantastic experience ‒ at least for me, who had to leave the restaurant before the others, saying goodbye to touristic Paris and good afternoon to working Paris.  Alas.

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In the afternoon of Tuesday, November 11, 2014, I met up with the Paris Sketchers crew on the panoramic rooftop terrace of the Printemps department store located on Boulevard Haussmann in Paris.

I had suggested the outing, as part of my "Paris par arrondissement" drawing project (in English: "Paris by arrondissement"), for the 9th arrondissement.  On the Saturday before, I had checked out different sites in the arrondissement in order to choose one that was convenient and interesting enough for a talented and passionate group of urban sketchers.  Opera Garnier came close (I know that I would have loved to sketch in the famous operahouse).  There was even Galeries Lafayette, which also boasted a panoramic terrace on its rooftop.  But there was nothing like that of Printemps, which, on the tenth floor of the store, offered a great cafe vibe combined with comfortable furniture, lovely decor, and people everywhere.  And yes, fantastic views all over Paris too.

Photo provided by journeyetc.com

What was even better than all that was the weather.  It was gorgeous!  Sure, it was a bit chilly, but for November, it was wonderfully sunny.  And none of the sketchers who came stayed inside the cafe leading to the terrace (until it had started to get dark).  We were all outside, sharing space with the locals and tourists passing through from time to time, some of whom did not resist the temptation to come and see what we were up to.

In the sketching crew were mostly familiar faces ‒ Eriko, Jean-Marc, Jérôme, Blandine, Chantal, Tula, Carole, Véronique, Aviva ‒ and a few people I had never met, notably Monique and Michèle.  I was glad that they had all chosen to spend this public holiday ‒ the Armistice of 1918 ‒ sketching with me at a pleasant and somewhat unusual location in Paris.

I was drawn during the entire visit to a view of Montmartre that culminated in the Sacré-Cœur Basilica, even though I really wanted to dig into something showing the Eiffel Tower.  I had to accept that a date with the "Dame de fer" (in English: "Iron Lady") was not to be that day, for some reason that I can no longer remember exactly.  But at least now I have a reason to return to such a remarkable viewpoint.

La butte Montmartre

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On Tuesday, September 23, 2014, I went to the Ladurée bar.

You know, the bar where I struggled time and time again to kick-off Operation Bar Games for the 8th arrondissement of Paris.

This time, I was not going back there to run any operations.  I was not even going for drinks or for their famed macarons.  No, I was going there simply to draw.

As part of my "Paris par arrondissement" drawing project (in English: "Paris by arrondissement"), in which I visit a bar (or a cafe or a restaurant) in each of Paris' 20 arrondissements to make an urban sketch, I decided that for the 8th, I would choose a place that I found meaningful.

And there was only one possible choice.

Voilà.

P.S. They have the best hot chocolate!

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On Thursday, May 29, 2014, just four days after the drawing session in the 14th arrondissement of Paris, I joined the Paris Sketchers crew at the Institut du Monde Arabe (Arab World Institute), an organization that is dedicated to presenting the cultures of the Arab world among other things and whose building is located by the Seine in the 5th arrondissement.  It was Jeudi de l'Ascension (Feast of the Ascension), a public holiday, and I was thrilled about the idea of spending the afternoon in good company in a place that I had always been curious about but that I had never visited.

For this special event, I owe a lot to Marina, who organized the outing.  She wrote a brief and enticing presentation about everything that the Institute had to offer an urban sketcher, noting in particular the "Il était une fois l'Orient Express" exhibition that was ongoing.  I got excited upon reading this, even though what fascinated me the most was the panoramic view of Paris from the rooftop of the building.  A view that was accessible for free.

I arrived at the Institute around 2pm, by way of Vélib.  A locomotive was on display close to the building, welcoming visitors and passers-by.  Nearby on the parvis was a line of train cars, a queue along it, and a longer one in front of a ticket counter that was decorated as if it belonged in a train station.  The Orient Express.  The celebrated train service that connected several cities in Europe to others in the Middle East as early as 1883.  This was definitely a special event.

I found a few familiar sketchers outside, including Marina, and went to say hello.  Most of them, including Tula and Jean-Marc, were already at work.  Feeling the urge to join them, I began to figure out what I should sketch.  Marina had mentioned the view of the Notre-Dame cathedral from the rooftop of the building, but I was still undecided.  It was sort of a dilemma: would I remain outside to contemplate the locomotive, the train cars, and/or the building that had intrigued me for years, or would I go inside this same building to see what was interesting from the rooftop?

I decided on the latter.  And five minutes later, I was on the rooftop, having taken the elevator nine floors up.  Admiring the view where I could, as tourists were all over the place, I eventually laid my eyes on Notre-Dame, in the west.  In its direction, I spotted a corner that was somewhat isolated and from where I could get the closest and clearest view of Notre-Dame.  I went towards it, certain that it would become my drawing location.

I set up my equipment and started sketching what I saw.  Within the two hours that it took me to finish, Marina stopped by and did some sketches of her own in watercolor.  I had only met her once before, on a previous outing, but being up there with her gave me the opportunity to know her better.  She eventually left to go sketch elsewhere, but not before we confirmed the meeting time at the cafe across from the building.

I was feeling a high after having taken on Notre-Dame from such a viewpoint and was largely satisfied with the result, especially since it was the first great Parisian monument that I had ever drawn.  Having time to kill before reuniting the group, I decided to enjoy more of the setting by doing two quick 30-minute pen sketches of the cathedral and its surroundings.

Once the sketches were completed, I said goodbye to the rooftop and took the elevator downstairs.  I was going to show up late at the café.

***

On the evening of Thursday, August 28, 2014, I returned to the Institut du Monde Arabe without the sketchers.  This time, I did not go to the rooftop.  I was not even interested in entering the building, which was already closed.  Quite simply, I showed up for the attraction of the moment, which I had chosen not to sketch the last time around: the Orient Express.

Why return three months later?  Because the exhibition was ending on August 31st.  And I wanted to mark the moment in a sketch, or several.  Better late than never.

I came back two days later, on Saturday, August 30, 2014, for a more serious drawing.  I wanted everything in the composition: the locomotive, the train cars, the building.  I was able to pull it off, even though it took me five hours over two days.  Two days, because I came back the following day, the last day of the exhibition, to put the finishing touches.

Thanks to Marina, who had given me a free ticket, I was able to visit the train cars open to the public on the second day.  The following are some souvenirs from my tour.

I had a few amusing moments with security officials working at the exit of the train car tour.  They had seen me sketching earlier from their post and had come over from time to time to take a look at my work.   As I came out with everyone else in my tour group, one of them volunteered to take pictures of me inside the train cars with my camera.  So I went with him and had my pictures taken without anyone else in sight.  Precious.  Later on, another security guard called out to me while I was sketching to offer some encouraging words: "You have a talent, you should exploit it ... you have get yourself known ..."  Flattered and embarrassed, I replied "OK, but later", to which he said "Time is running out ..."  And as I was leaving for good, he added "Do not forget."  "What?", I asked.  "What I told you earlier."

The icing on the cake was the moment on Pont de Sully when I crossed paths with Jack Lang, the president of Institut du Monde Arabe and a former Minister of Culture, as I walked towards Place de la Bastille to catch the metro.

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On Sunday, May 25, 2014, I joined other members of the Paris Sketchers crew in the 14th arrondissement of Paris to celebrate la Fête de la Nature (Nature Day).  The outing was a convergence of three separate plans.  First, there was Sigrid, an urban sketcher from Vancouver, who had informed us some months earlier about her visit to Paris in hopes to draw with us.  Then, there was Charlotte, a local urban sketcher and president of "Le Lapin Ouvrier", an association that manages a shared garden in the 14th arrondissement, who had invited us to visit her garden during the fête and ultimately sketch there.  Finally, there was Marion, another local urban sketcher, who had told us about a group of drawing enthusiasts visiting from Puerto Rico that were interested in sketching with others in Paris.  In light of these different contexts, the Sunday was bound to be one that would be not only rich in sights, sketches, and sunshine, but also rich in shared experiences.

From a personal standpoint, on this particular day, I was looking to draw my a-- off.  I had just returned from vacation overseas, and since I did not sketch a whole lot during the time away, I had fallen behind my weekly quota.  So I had some catching up to do in order to restore the balance.  Having taken account of the work already done, I figured that it would suffice to do 8 sketches with each requiring 30 minutes or less in the 3 or 4 hours before everyone got together for the usual drinks after drawing.  As you can imagine, this plan would leave little time to reflect on finished drawings or to engage anyone in a conversation, which were two things that I usually did.  Eight sketches in a few hours.  A goal that I had never attempted before, not even at SketchCrawls, where sketchers gather in different parts of the world to spend a whole day on a particular site doing nothing but sketches.

In the end, I could managed only 7 sketches, which was 5 more than my previous high.  Even though I succeeded in keeping my pen on the pages of my drawing book for (almost) three and a half hours, the time spent was marked by some pleasant distractions every now and then.

RECAP

After arriving at Place de la Garenne and saying quick hellos to Marion and Jean-Marc, both of whom were already at work, I went to unfold my stool in a corner of the square where I got warmed up by making the sketch below.

I found the view below of the Jardin de la ZAC Didot it interesting, so I started scribbling.  At some point, I noticed a group of about 10 people pass from the garden to the square with Charlotte and then walk over to where Marion was sitting.  They were the sketchers from Puerto Rico.  Afterwards, they came with Charlotte to say hello to me.  I stopped drawing for a chat with them, using the occasion to resurrect my Spanish with little success.  Fortunately for me, the group organizer spoke French.

Sometime later, Sigrid arrived, by bicycle.  I got to meet her and found greater ease speaking with her in English after we started off in French.

Things got interesting once I entered the garden.  Unlike the quiet and empty square, the garden with rather lively, with kids playing all over the place and curious adults peeking here and there.  I soon spotted Charlotte, who gave me the warmest and most animated welcome ever.  She then explained to me how the shared garden concept worked and even offered me a very raw taste of a few herbs grown there, notably thyme and tarragon.  After a while, when I was seriously itching to resume drawing, Charlotte found me a discreet spot under the shade in the middle of a enclosure that contained plants and a few trees.  I could not have asked for a better location.  From there, I found an interesting scene, except that Sigrid and Marion were in it, busy sketching away.  Even though I preferred to avoid drawing people, I felt that I had no other choice but to include the two ladies in the picture.

I needed one more sketch in the garden before moving on and quickly settled on the one below.  While I was drawing, Charlotte came to offer me some syrup made from quinces cultivated in the garden.  How kind!  At some point, Marion started announcing that we would be going shortly to Rue des Thermopyles, which was nearby. I had never been there, but I figured that it was a remarkable place.  I kept that in mind and raced to wrap up my sketch.

I joined in the walk over to Rue des Thermopyles.  Within a few minutes, we ended up on this mostly straight and narrow street that had a countryside vibe to it.  But what I found most striking ‒ and I am sure others can say the same ‒ was the extensive plant decor on facades of the buildings bordering the street.  There was even a thick bundle of leafy branches that traveled from one facade to the one across it, forming an arch of plants for people and cars to pass through.  It was all a sight to behold.  With great delight, I began to capture the view towards one end of the street, only to end up less than five minutes later with the view obstructed by a sketcher from Puerto Rico.  I was not sure of what she was doing since her back was directly in front of me, but as she did not leave the spot, I figured that she was sketching.  And she was.  At that point, I felt that there was no other solution but to put her in the sketch. I even had to draw her over the initial line I had traced to mark the edge of the left sidewalk.

I sought another view nearby that had nothing to do with the perspective of a straight and narrow street.  I found one simply by looking in the opposite direction.  There, Luis Alfonso, who led the group of sketchers from Puerto Rico, Marie-Odile, a local sketcher, and a sketcher from Puerto Rico were sitting on the sidewalk, filling in their sketchbooks.

Shortly after I had begun yet another sketch on Rue des Thermopyles, Marion was leading the group to go have drinks in a neighborhood cafe, which generally signaled the end of sketching activity.  I was determined to carry out my plan to finish, so when the group was getting ready to leave, I kept drawing, albeit more hastily.  After 20 minutes in a newfound solitude, I was done.  Sketch No. 8 was going to happen but on another day, since I was eager to reunite with the group.  Besides, I was also spent and my drawing arm needed to rest for a long while.  So I got up, folded my stool one last time, and set off in the direction of the garden that we had arrived from, very content with the efforts that I had produced, in the company of twenty other sketchers, some from Paris, others from farther away.

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It was December 25, 2013.  I was going to meet up with members of Paris Sketchers group at Musée Jacquemart-André, in the 9th arrondissement of Paris.  It would be only my second outing with the group since becoming a member the month before, and I did not know Marie-Christine, who had suggested the outing.  I had found it strange at first that someone would imagine asking people other than family and friends to join her in visiting a museum on Christmas Day.  As such, I had expected to do anything but show up.  But knowing that I would be in Paris as the day drew closer, I found the idea more and more appealing.  In the end, I embraced the strangeness of it.

Passing through the courtyard lying between the ticket booth and the entrance to the museum building, I felt the cold.  I was even surprised to discover two sketchers there, busy at work.  I went over to meet each of these courageous individuals.  There was first Marie-Christine and, a bit farther away, Savath.  They were friendly and showed me their sketches.  It was great knowing that they were around, as if that was the encouragement that I needed to start drawing.  But I was not going to do that outside.  It seemed too much for my body to bear.  So I went inside the building to take a tour.  It was a small museum, but its rooms were pleasantly laid out and well adorned with paintings, sculptures, plants, mirrors, chandeliers, and other fancy objects.  In spite of this richness, I could not settle on a subject to get the drawing juices flowing.  I ended up returning to the courtyard to try my hand (and eyes) at the facade of the building.  If Marie-Christine and Savath could brave the cold, I could too.

I found an empty bench on one end of the courtyard and facing the center of the building that seemed perfect.  The foldable stool that I had brought was no longer necessary, so I placed that on the bench, next to the pouch containing pencils, eraser, and cutter that I kept beside me.  And off I went.  While I drew, visitors kept passing by, either to enter or to leave the building, and as far as I could tell, they did not always notice me.  When they did, their attention was generally held for an instant before they continued along their path as if nothing had happened.  Less discreet were several Asian tourists.  Some of them took pictures of me, sometimes asking for permission, sometimes not.  Others approached to see my sketch and may have given a compliment.  One man even came by and sat on the bench with me for a while.  There were some empty benches nearby, but he made sure to choose mine.  Coincidence?  Who knows.  In any case, I was too focused on my drawing to chase him away.

This focus disappeared as slowly as the rain appeared.  I had made great progress on the sketch, but it was far from finished.  I felt like being at a crossroads.  Having always succeeded in bringing my drawings to a state of completion, I wanted to finish what I had started.  But I feared that the rain would fall down harder than in the light drops that I was feeling.  Besides, I had become aware of the cold.  Ultimately, I aborted ship and went back inside.  I was not particularly satisfied with the sketch, but I believed that I had done what I could given the circumstances.

After scouring the building floor to floor to find a place from where I could sketch without being disturbed by the stream of visitors passing through, I found a corner at a dead end on the top floor that was small enough to discourage a crowd from approaching.  What's more, it provided a superb view of the ground floor and the staircase linking it to the top floor.  It was perfect.  So I unfolded my stool there, sharpened my pencils using the cutter, and started sketching.  Since the corner was partially bordered by a decorative handrail that extended horizontally from the top of the staircase, I spent some time standing in order to capture a clearer plunging view.  From time to time, I caught sight of people coming up the stairs, notably a large group of Italian girls, yet hardly anyone dared to come towards the corner where I was.  The rare ones that did usually asked for permission to look at my sketch and left after saying something kind.  One woman in particular came by and said nothing like the other curious folk before her.  I did not recognize her after she caught my attention and she began to introduce herself, in English for that matter.  Then I figured it out.  It was Kim, the administrator of the Paris Sketchers group, with whom I had corresponded over e-mail when I was trying to become a member.  I had gotten the sense at that time that she was American just by the way she expressed herself in writing. In person, talking to me, she had to be American.  In any case, she had a friendly demeanor and I connected well with her.  She informed me that she had just arrived at the museum and that all the sketchers would be meeting in the cafe on the ground floor around 4:30pm ‒ which I took as the deadline for stopping all sketching work.  And then she left and would later find a bench at the base of the staircase to sit in order to make some sketches of her own.  Knowing that I had a clear deadline motivated me to get into my drawing more, and I began to fill in details wherever I could.  Eventually, I was lost in my work.  The effort and its progressive results were definitely making up for the incomplete sketch of the building facade.  When I decided that there was nothing more that I could enrich, I was very pleased.  I even felt that I had reached a new high in my drawing.  In fact, the high went beyond the drawing, because until then I had never spent a period of more than 4 hours in a museum without appreciating a single work of art put on display ‒ and enjoyed it.

Just before the clock stroke 4:30pm, I packed up and went downstairs to the cafe to join the crew.  Still high on enthusiasm, I walked into the room oblivious to the fact that there was a queue at the entrance.  Someone made sure to let me know, though it did no longer mattered as I had already spotted Kim and Marie-Christine at a table.  I went to take the seat across Kim and began chatting with them.  We ordered some time after that ‒ all that drawing had left me hungry ‒ and then resumed our chatter.  Savath would arrive later.  During our time in the cafe, we showed each other our works du jour, giving and receiving compliments and comments.  I was truly in awe of some of the sketches that I saw, wishing to master the techniques used.  Besides the drawings, I got to learn more about the other sketchers.  I felt relaxed in their company, which was due in large part to Kim.  The both of us got along very well so quickly that I was surprised at how spontaneous and how expressive I was with three people that I had just met.

While we were leaving the museum, I could not help but look forward to future outings to do urban sketching in Paris, whether it was on Christmas Day or not.

why i love paris (3)

The Paris Metro can be a place of delightful experiences.

It was that recently, as well as the site of an Operation Original run.

It was nearing midnight one Friday evening when I boarded line 6 at the Etoile terminus.  As the metro car began to fill up, I went to occupy a empty 4-seater (two pairs of adjacent seats facing each other) and pulled out my "The Art of Urban Sketching" book from my shoulder bag.  While reading, a young couple (man and woman) embarked and took possession of the 4-seater across the narrow corridor from where I was.  I watched them for a short while before returning to my book.  It would not be long before I got distracted again, having noticed the book with the white cover that the girl had pulled out from her handbag.  I saw her handle the book briefly, before passing it to her companion, who was seated in front of her.  He got to browsing the book.  All the while they were speaking to each other, and I could not tell if it was in English because their voices were rather low.  Nevertheless, I kept my eyes on the book, trying to make out the words on the cover from afar.  The title seemed written in English but I was not exactly certain.  From time to time, I took glances without trying to appear too nosy.  On one of these furtive attempts, I managed to recognize something on an open page.  "Chapter".  Within seconds, I sprung into action.

"Swapbook?", I said.  I was already at the edge of my 4-seater and next to theirs, holding out my book towards them.  Naturally, they were surprised though they did not seem threatened.  If anything, they were probably trying to understand what was going on.  It was then that I realized that I had not opened the scene properly.  So I corrected myself.

"Bookswap?", this time delivered with more charm.

Now they appeared more curious, as if they wanted to say yes to an adventure.  So I guided them.

"Book swap.  We swap books."

The girl, who was bookless, had let out a radiant smile.  The guy looked like he was game, and he ended up swapping his book with mine.  Despite the excitement that had come over me, I started poring over their book.  I could not get far however, because I soon got interrupted.

"Did you do all these?", the girl asked, pointing to some colorful sketches in my book.

"Oh no, no", I said, flattered.  I felt it necessary to give a little context.

"The sketches are from people who drew in cities all over the world.  I am part of this group that does urban sketching in Paris.  Actually it's the Parisian group of the Urban Sketchers movement.  We go out into the city and sketch what we see.  I just joined and have been to several outings.  Actually, just last Saturday we had a sketch crawl in Jardin des Plantes that was open to the public, not just to the members of our group.  So you could have participated if you knew about it."

They were quite fascinated, or so it appeared.

"Do you have sketches from that outing?"

"Yes", I replied.  "I drew the skeleton of a mammoth*, but the sketch is at home, so I don't have it with me."

The girl now had the book in her hands and flipped through it, stopping at a page that seemed to have struck a chord with her.  She showed us the page.  It was part of the section on Istanbul, decorated everywhere with various sketches of the city.

"Oh, you're Turkish?"

She nodded, smiling.

"And you, you're French?", I asked the guy, who I supposed was not Turkish, nor French for that matter.

"No, I'm from Latvia."

"Ah, la Lettonie."

He nodded.

They asked where I was from.  I said Nigeria, adding that I came to France from the United States.

"Where in the States?"

"California."

"Where in California?"

"San Francisco."

"Oh, we used to live there!", they declared cheerfully.

"What?  You've got to be kidding me!"

"Actually, we were in Palo Alto."

And I'm just amazed.  I admitted that I was truly living in San Mateo, which was a 15-minute drive from Palo Alto and which took 30 minutes to reach from San Francisco.

We began to recall our respective lives in the Bay Area, asking and answering questions of how much time we spent there and of when we left.  In the midst of our jubilation, a young girl entered the metro and took the seat facing me.  I was too occupied to pay her much attention.

"It's so great to hear English for once", she remarked, suddenly.

The couple and I were completely taken aback.  Given her accent, we surmised that she was American.  When she learned that we had lived in the Bay Area and that we were talking about it, she went : "This is such a coincidence.  I'm from San Francisco!"

Now we were floored.

"Really?  Wow, this is incredible!"

Our new friend duly went through an interrogation similar to the one that I had just received.  And it turned out that she was the only one among us to have lived in San Francisco.

"I live in the Mission", she clarified.  "I go to school at San Francisco State University and I just got here a month ago."

Over time, she withdrew from the conversation and settled into a reflective state.  I kept talking with the couple.  The girl [of the couple] seemed interested in urban sketching, so I gave her some information.

"On paris.urbansketchers.org, you can easily find drawings from our trip to Jardin des Plantes since they are our most recent, and somewhere on the main page is a link to our Flickr site ‒ you know Flickr, right? ‒ where all our drawings are.  Well, the drawings published by members of the group."

"I would like to do something like this", she said, elatedly.

"Well, our next sketch crawl is taking place in April, so make sure to check out our website."

"I will."

Soon enough, I realized that I still had the couple's book in my hands.  I had not really looked at it since the swap.  So I formally excused myself from them to take a closer look.  The college student seemed a little bored, so I offered her the urban sketching book, which the couple had returned to me.  She accepted it and started browsing while I inspected the couple's book.  "I, Claudius" was written on the front cover.  Hmmmn, I thought, as I turned the book around to read the summary on the back.  It was difficult.  I could make out the words but the whole thing did not speak to me.  Besides, I was too fascinated by the unusual nature of the experience taking place to concentrate.  All that I could conclude from my struggle was that the book belonged to the historical genre.  So I asked them, while handing back the book, "So, is this an historical book?"

I could not remember their reply.  They did not hesitate to praise the book, however.  It was amusing.

"What's your favorite book?", the girl asked me.

Just the kind of question that I have difficulty answering, as with most "favorite" questions.  Nevertheless, I amused myself looking for a proper answer.  Unable to find one quickly, I conceded with a non-answer.

"Well, I'm not much of a reader."

Straight away, I knew that I was saying rubbish.  After all, I do read books on a regular basis.  A suitable answer instantly became clear.

"Well, there is this book that I truly like.  It's on psychology, not a novel or anything like that."

"What is it called?"

"It's called Flow.  It's such a great book.  And a work of art, in my opinion.  I don't know how to describe it.  It talks about optimal experiences and I like it because it explains how to create them based on how the mind works.  It's in the field of positive psychology, as opposed to traditional psychology where the issue is to figure out what's wrong with you.  But you have to read it, because I don't have the words that do justice to the power of this book."

I possibly left them intrigued.  I mean, who mentions a book on psychology as his favorite book when asked by strangers?

We got talking about their move to France.  They said that they did it to be close to family and that they had no regrets about leaving the Bay Area.  I also learned that the guy went to Stanford.  A no-brainer of a question to ask once he mentioned having lived in Palo Alto.  "You guys have the most beautiful campus", I said.  He could do nothing but concur.

Like many good things, our encounter came to an end when the couple had to get off the metro at their stop.  We exchanged goodbyes.

"See you in April", I said to the girl as she left the seating area.  She turned back, smiling in return.  A few seconds later, she and her companion were out of sight.

I turned my attention to the college student and picked up conversation with her.


* The skeleton of the mammoth was located in the Galerie de paléontologie et d'anatomie comparée, one of the sites that, along with the Jardin des Plantes, makes up the Muséum national d'histoire naturelle

why i love paris (2)

These photos were taken on a Sunday afternoon in September 2008.  My friend Stephanie was visiting Paris at the time and we had just returned from a exciting trip to Western France that began in Rennes and ended in Blois.  This Sunday was Stephanie's last day of vacation and, after taking a stroll on Rue Mouffetard, we decided to hit up Montmartre.  Upon our arrival, we naturally waded through the crowd loitering outside the Sacré-Cœur Basilica before joining those shuffling inside, we admired the bright yellow colors worn by the young girl playing the accordion nearby, and then, far off in the distance, we caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.  Twice.

Good times.

why i love paris (1)

One Sunday morning in April, I saw this ensemble play while I was on my way to Marché d'Aligre, an open-air market in Paris.  I recognized the song but was not a huge fan.  Yet stumbling upon the performance reminded me just why I loved Paris.



I recently bought "21", the album that contains the song covered above.  And more than two years later, I have arrived at the party.  And it appears that it's over.  Okay.

Anyways, big ups to Adele and her people.  The album is magnificent.