Tag: Cathedrale de Notre Dame

Visiting the renovated Cathedrale de Notre Dame

Here in France, christmas cards are hardly ever sent. Starting Jan 1, les Français send New Year’s cards. The rule of thumb is that one has the entire month of January to send these cards. Which, if you think about it, makes so much sense. Christmas shopping, parties, craziness, family get togethers are in the rear view window. Only taking down the tree and putting away ornaments remain. There is more relaxed time to send a card and even a letter of yearly catch-up.

So I am not late in wishing everyone Happy New Year.  For me personally, I’m happy to say good bye to 2024. It wasn’t a bad year. In fact, if I were to write down all the successful things that I did or happened to me, it was a good year. But it was an emotional year. It was like grabbing on to the tail of a kite and hanging on for dear life during a raging storm. Among the bigger things that happened, I sold my home in Oakland, California, I had cataract surgery on both eyes, I had carpal tunnel surgery on my left wrist, the Paris Olympics came to town, and I joined a year long writing Studio making a commitment to write a first draft of a second book.

In December, I spent three weeks in very cold Ann Arbor, Michigan (where exists one of the most wonderful bookstores ever: Literati) with my sister and returned in time to celebrate New Year’s eve with friends in the Marais. For me, flying west to east produces much worse jet lag than flying the other way and it seems that I lost a number of days last week, getting my feet back on the ground.

Each day since my return, I went to the Cathedrale de Notre Dame website to get a reservation to see the renovation. It was clear that no one needed a reservation but if you didn’t want to wait in a long line in the cold, it was recommended. The site gives you three days: the day you are looking and the following two days. Even though the reservations/billets are free, every day, each day said ‘Sold Out’. Until yesterday. I was so surprised to see a possible reservation for 2pm that I thought I was seeing things. I confirmed that I wanted the ticket, printed it out, invited my friend, Cherilyn, to join me, ate some lunch, and off I went to see this miracle of rebuilding.

We have all seen photos of the new inside. Because of spot lights, it all looked so WHITE, so BRIGHT, so unNotre Dame, even though it looked spectacular. I wasn’t sure I would love it the way everyone else had. 

When I got there, there were two very long queues, blocks long. I went up to a number of people and asked in French if they were in the reservations line. Not one of them spoke French. They just looked at me vacantly. So I asked in English and managed to piss at least one person off. She kept insisting that I had to go to the end of the line. It seemed that the majority of tourists had no idea that there was the possibility of reserving a ticket and a time. I found the reservations line, ten people in it, and was inside in less than two minutes even with the TSA-like security before entering. Cherilyn met me inside.

My first impression was deep relief. It wasn’t bright white, hurting your eyes bright. The renovators had managed to give all the columns and the ceiling a tone of ‘wear’, of having been around for awhile. All the artifacts had been saved and some of those were cleaned up to a just finished white. 

All images are photos taken by me

In spite of the lengthy lines on the Parvis, inside was not packed with people. It was easy to move around with the exception of seeing the crèche that is put up each December for Christmas. There the crowds were huge and not moving. It was the only time during the 90 minutes I spent inside the cathedrale that I was annoyed and wanted to jab a few people with my elbow.

Because I love elephants, here is a small photo of the contingent from India.

To get to the crèche, you walk down the left side of the sanctuary. Passing the crèche takes you to all the chapels where one can pray to a specific Saint. Most did not have finished stain glass windows but instead a pattern that was a holding place. My understanding is that the stain-glass, the gargoyles, and the spire will all be continuing work for the next couple of years. At the back was a large chapel dedicated to the Crown of Thorns that has been in Paris since Louis IX acquired it. It was orignially housed in the Cathedrale but moved to Saint Chapelle which Louis IX built specifically to house the artifact. During the renovation, it has been on view in the Louvre.

Chapel for the Crown of Thorns.

Votive candles were everywhere for 2 euros. 

We then walked up the right side of the sanctuary stopping to sit for about 30 minutes just to let the feel of the place saturate us. President Macron is one of the most unpopular men in France at the moment but this five year project that he pulled off, the renovation of the Cathedrale, is stupendous. Once inside and looking at every detail, it is hard to imagine that it was all done in this time period. It justifiably will be the most visited tourist “attraction” in Paris this year.

Many of the windows were saved from the fire.  The BBC has a wonderful video describing the process of renovating the cathedrale. Click the link to watch it

The Rose window at the front of the cathedrale partially hidden by the magnificent organ.

Also up on the website is the calendar of musical events happening in Notre Dame for 2025. Many are already sold out but those of you living in Paris can have a look on the site. Click here.

As we made our way to the exit doors, we passed a machine of souvenirs. For three euros, I received a ‘gold’ coin that says Reouverture de la Cathedrale 8 décembre 2024.

I walked into the cold afternoon a very happy visitor to the new and restored Cathedrale de Notre Dame.

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A bientôt,

Sara

Today is Thanksgiving in the US but not in France.

The big news today in Paris is that the dates for the reoopening of Cathedrale de Notre Dame (which many of you will remember burned in a horrendous fire in 2019) have been set.

Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral opens its doors on December 7-8, 2024 almost five years after a devastating fire. © Nancy Ing Duclos for INSPIRELLE

The magazine Inspirelle, https://inspirelle.com/notre-dame-reopening-how-to-celebrate-its-rise-from-the-ashes/ wrote today about Notre Dame and the day that we have all been waiting for. The re-Opening. The following are quotes taken from the article. I’ve put the address above if you would like to read the entire article.

“Christians and non-Christians around the world watched in horror almost five years ago when flames engulfed the rooftop of the beloved 800-year-old Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris. When the spire toppled over in the early evening of April 15, 2019, crashing through the roof’s nave and sending billowing, ominous smoke into the Parisian skies, we all wondered if the cathedral would survive. Yet, here we are five years later, waiting with bated breath for Notre-Dame’s grand reopening and comeback. Rebuilt and restored. And word has it, the cathedral is more beautiful and transcendent than ever.”

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“Our first look inside the restored Notre-Dame will be on November 29, 2024 when President Macron makes his seventh and last visit to the worksite inside the cathedral before it is officially handed back to the Paris Diocese in early December. The state was responsible for the full restoration of Notre-Dame after the fire, which it entrusted to the Notre-Dame Restoration Committee. Remember, the French President expressed his determination that the landmark would reopen its doors five years after it suffered serious damage to its structure.”

“December 7, 2024..(is the day). The President of the French Republic returns to Notre-Dame in the evening for the official reopening. On the square in the forefront, he will deliver a short, emotional speech before declaring the handover of the cathedral to the Archbishop of Paris. Monseigneur Laurent Ulrich will knock on the medieval doors of the cathedral three times with a crozier, his special staff. The cathedral, which had been silent, then “answers” ​​him by singing Psalm 121 three times – resounding again with the song of praise. On the third time, the doors open. The eight bells of Notre-Dame will also ring again, beckoning everyone to come in.

On this occasion, 100 world leaders, dignitaries, religious leaders and the faithful have been invited to the official ceremony that will be broadcast live by France Television and shared with international media. Inside, vestiges and prayers will be delivered.”

“The following day on December 8, Msgr Ulrich will oversee the inaugural mass at 10:30 a.m. Paris time. The rector, Msgr Olivier Ribadeau-Dumas, will be by his side. The religious procession will be filled with color and emotion. The liturgical vestments worn by the clergy have been designed by Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, a fixture on the French fashion scene. The capes recall medieval chivalric style with golden crosses surrounded by bursts of shards in primary colors, reflecting nobility and simplicity, modernity and joyful outreach. The President is expected to attend mass with over 1,200 guests representing various religious and charitable associations, workers, and donors who contributed to Notre-Dame’s restoration.

A second public mass is scheduled for the evening at 6 p.m. local time. France Television will cover the two masses live, and international media will be able to broadcast their images as well.”

The beloved Mother and Child survived the rooftop collapse and was placed back in the sanctuary Nov. 15, 2024 Photo: Nancy Ing Duclos

“Check the Notre-Dame website for the registration link to reserve free seats for masses and private prayers as well as visits in the first week of the reopening (reservations should open around December 1, 2024). Or, look out for the new Notre-Dame mobile application to reserve dates and learn more. Five newly organized tours are available for visitors to fully appreciate and experience the full breadth of Notre Dame’s history, architecture, spirituality and restoration.”

“The Crown of Thorns will return to the cathedral’s treasury on December 13 in a grand ceremony. This religious relic, believed to be the woven crown worn by Christ on his way to crucifixion, was saved the night of the fire by those who risked their lives to enter the burning church.

On December 16, the cathedral returns to a normal schedule offering daily mass three times a day to the public.

Musical concerts with international artists are planned for the cathedral every Tuesday night for the following new year. Click here for the program and to reserve seats.”

So today, we in France give thanks that our beloved Cathedrale has survived and we will all get to visit the new and we are told even more beautiful inside in the near future.

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A bientôt,

Sara

New Notre-Dame spire takes shape on Paris skyline

Reposting from The Local-Nov. 29, 2023

This photograph taken on November 28, 2023 in Paris shows the wooden structure of the new spire in place at Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral on the Ile de la Cité in Paris during reconstruction work. Photo by Ludovic MARIN / AFP

Scaffolding still surrounded the new spire, captured by an AFP photographer, and officials did not wish to comment while they await the finishing touches.

The authority overseeing the rebuilding told AFP last Friday that the oak structure of the spire, which reaches 96 metres (315 feet) high, would be visible “before Christmas”.

It is identical to the previous one, designed by the 19th century architect Viollet-Le-Duc, which collapsed in the fire of April 15th, 2019.

The scaffolding will remain to allow the installation of its cover and lead ornaments early next year, the authorities said.

The cathedral is due to reopen on December 8th, 2024, President Emmanuel Macron announced in August.

The frames of the nave and the choir of the cathedral, which were also destroyed, are due for completion in 2024, after which the construction of the roof can begin.

The final stages include cleaning the interior – an area that covers some 42,000 square metres – and installing new furniture.

—published in The Local/France Nov. 29, 2023

April 15, 2019, a long ago time before the pandemic, I was at the American Library in Paris waiting to meet Edouard Louis, a well-known young French author. He would be speaking on his latest book: Who Killed My Father. It wasn’t like in the movies when suddenly everyone is looking at their mobile phones and you know Something Bad Has Happened. Someone mentioned that they thought Notre Dame was on fire. No one believed it so we were checking all our respective news sources. It was true, as we all now know. It was 6:50pm CEST. I went outside and down to the corner of Rue du Général Camou and Avenue Rapp. I couldn’t see anything, not a wiff of smoke in the sky. Notre Dame is 5.2 kilometres east of the American Library. A drive of 20-25 minutes or a metro ride of the same amount of time. The fire began at 6:20pm CEST, but alarms didn’t go off until the same time that I was searching the sky.

In no time, I was caught up in the Drama of Notre Dame in Flames (there is a fairly good thriller/documentary out called Notre Dame Brûle*). I watched on my iPhone as crowds began to gather, many people weeping, all being kept at a safe distance by the gendarmes. Slowly word spread around the world and scenes of Paris were interrupted by reporters in US or UK announcing that the heart of France, the literal and metaphorical center of the country, was burning. The big question was: Could any part of the beautiful centuries old cathedral be saved? All the structure was wood, some wood over 600 years old. At the time of the fire, renovations were being done on the roofing. It’s never been clear how the fire started but guesses were that one of the workmen had thrown down a cigarette that wasn’t completely out. It is and was illegal to smoke there.

I wanted to meet with Edouard Louis. I had heard him speak a year earlier and told him about the book I was writing on my history with food addiction. He was fascinated and asked me to keep him posted. At the time of the fire, I had finished writing the book and a publication date had been set for May 2020. I wanted to talk to him. At the same time, like many people, the draw of a Drama happening on my turf, a reason for everyone to be on the same side of an issue, to feel the universality of something pulling the city together, a crowd reacting as one person, crying together, hugging strangers, I found the pull almost irresistable.

I did resist and stayed at ALP to meet Edouard and to listen to his talk. I went home after and watched the news, glued to every word, every picture. Just like the day Kennedy was shot, and RFK was shot, and the Towers came down. Fascinated by the drama, fascinated by public grief when everyone is given permission to cry and wail. This wasn’t just a tragedy, it was my tragedy as a citizen of Paris.

I was never much of a Princess Diana fan so, until the actual day of her funeral and the famous walk of the sons and Charles, I hadn’t watched much TV. I had lost a cat that I’d had many years and, after much searching, I decided he must have been caught by a coyote. But when I watched the royal procession, I cried and cried. I knew I was crying for Yaz, my lost cat, but this permission to cry all day long, in public, with everyone else, it is something that doesn’t often happen.

Before midnight, Paris learned that the cathedral would be saved. Firefighters and gendarmes had formed a long line and, hand over hand, taken everything out of the ground floor. “Shortly before the spire fell, the fire had spread to the wooden framework inside the north tower, which supported eight very large bells. Had the bells fallen, it was thought that the damage done as they fell could have collapsed the towers, and with them the entire cathedral.”-Wikipedia As far as I know, no artifacts were lost though many were damaged. I walked to Notre Dame a couple of days later. People were still gathering. We weren’t allowed anywhere within spitting distance of the Cathedral. The damage was visible from anywhere that one stood.

Over the next days and months, a contest was held for the best design for the new roof and spire. In the end, the decision was to keep it the same. President Macron swore that it would be finished and open by the Summer Olympics of 2024. No one saw Covid coming. Plywood walls were built to surround the cathedral both to keep people away from the construction but also to exhibit extraordinary photos that had been taken the evening of the fire, the rescue of the artifacts, and the progress of the renovation. One month, there were children’s drawings on the wall in front of the facade depicting Notre Dame on Fire. 

Now the end of the construction is closer than the evening of the tragedy. It’s hard to believe that it was almost five years ago. Edouard Louis has written three more books, developed Who Killed My Father into a play on Broadway, and continues his rise in French Literature. The summer Olympics are seven months away. It feels as if the entire city has been under construction getting ready for the Olympics. Some people are excited and many are terrified that the city will be unliveable for four weeks. 

And this week, we have been told that the spire might be visible by Christmas. I haven’t read of citizen reactions to that news. Not because there haven’t been any but because I still read English language newspapers and am lax about keeping up with French news publications. But something will happen I’m sure of that. Though the rebuilding of Notre Dame hasn’t been front page news for much of the last five years, it is still the ‘heart’ of Paris and France. If the Cathedral does open to the public in December 2024, I expect much festivity.

The cathedral also serves the heart of the city in a literal sense: The plaza facing the cathedral’s entrance is France’s “kilometer zero” — the precise location from which all distances to other cities along French highways are measured…

For more very interesting information of Notre Dame and the Fire, Wikipedia has a wonderful page with many specifics that weren’t known during the first months after the Fire.  You’ll find it here

A bientôt,

Sara

*The feature film by Jean-Jacques Annaud, reconstructs hour by hour the incredible reality of the events of April 15, 2019 when the cathedral suffered the most important disaster in its history. And how women and men will put their lives at risk in an incredible and heroic rescue.

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There is a time for building, and a time for living and for generation-T.S. Eliot

I was sitting on my couch yesterday talking with a good friend who was visiting Paris from California. She asked me if it was smarter to rent something here or to buy. I said that it depends. Why was she asking? She said that the general atmosphere in the US has become unbearable for her and her husband because of politics. She had visited with another group of friends two days ago and that had been the focus of their conversation. Selling and moving to Paris (these were all people who love Paris). I was a bit stunned. She lives in California and I saw California as a refuge from all the insanity. I guess not. You can’t not know what’s going on all over the country if you own a computer or a TV or both. Maybe with the mid-terms coming up, the volume has risen so high that the desire to run away from it all must seem so attractive. 

I left in 2013. Before there was Trump (although we were going through the Tea Party mess). I wasn’t making myself crazy by trying to decide to leave my country because of principles. I left because I could. I had retired. I wanted to experience another culture, really experience it, and came to Paris for a year. That was one month short of nine years ago. I haven’t gone back. To be considering a permanent move without knowing anything about what the future holds seems very brave to me. 

That was the other thing we talked about. The future. We are both at the age where one has to be thinking “where do I want to get old?” “Where do I want to be old?” The US has wonderful Continuing Care Retirement Communities. France does not. France has a wonderful medical system. The US does not. If I can no longer live independently, if I have to depend on someone or someones, what country do I want to be in?

These are huge questions. Honestly, I try not to think about them very often though I should. Yet, it was a pleasure discussing it all with my friend yesterday. A pleasure because we are like-minded and putting it all out on the table. I recently put an offer on a house in Normandy. I had an inspection done by a wonderful Scotsman and I told him my age and asked if he could look at the house with that in mind. He was happy to. He told me the house wasn’t suitable for someone my age, meaning if I had to redo a room or a bathroom to make it more handicap accessible, it wasn’t possible in that house. I patted myself on the back for having the foresight to even think of that question much less ask it.

To me, thinking about leaving the country feels like a little death. It’s great to move if you are going towards something, have excitement about new things, having a chance to start over again somewhere else. But that isn’t what people are saying when they are talking about leaving. They say it with sadness, that it is so scary to live in the US right now. I don’t envy them. 

Meanwhile here in Paris….. I was down near Notre Dame last week. Before the fire in March of 2019, my favorite view of Notre Dame was looking at it from behind; the roof held up by flying buttresses. I’d stand about half a kilometer east on the left bank and take deep breaths looking at the extraordinary beauty of that cathedral against a blue sky. Now all you can see is scaffolding. And cranes. And more scaffolding. 

Two years ago, there was talk that Macron wanted the rebuilding finished by the 2024 Summer Olympics which are being held in Paris. No one believes that can happen. According to the Smithsonian website, the clean up was finished this past August and the rebuilding started in September. The government is still hoping to finish it in 2024 and has actually announced that it will be open to the public in the Spring of 2024. 

There was a contest, at one point, to design a new roof for the cathedral. There was even one with a swimming pool, I’m told. Now the new Notre Dame will look exactly like the old Notre Dame. Which makes me glad. “The French Senate rejected calls to replace the spire with a modern design, ultimately voting to restore it to its “last known visual state.” But France’s National Heritage and Architecture Commission did approve proposals to modernize Notre-Dame’s interior with new additions like contemporary artworks—a plan that some critics described as a “woke Disney revamp.” “A parallel initiative to invigorate Notre-Dame’s surroundings is also underway. Funded by Paris City Hall, the redesign includes planting more vegetation in the area and installing a cooling system, the New York Times’ Aurelien Breeden reported in June. Per the Times, Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo said that Notre-Dame “had to be left in its beauty and have everything around it be a showcase for that beauty.”—smithsonianmag.com

This is what Notre Dame will look when finished.

And finally, I’ll end with a word about the peacocks in Parc de Bagatelle. I took my Sunday walk to the park four days ago. The first thing I do when I arrive is check up on the cats. If there is a volunteer there feeding them, I have a chat. That’s how I learn the stories about them. And now that I know that peacock tail feathers have a life cycle, I’m watching the male peacock carefully. I saw a peacock before a cat. He was looking in the opposite direction. It looked as if some pine needles had gotten caught under his back feathers. As I got closer, I realized what I thought were pine needles was the very beginnings of the new feathers.

Scattered on his back are what look like tufts of cotton. When the tail is completely grown out and he makes a fan to attract a female, it’s possible to see all the white fluff. This seemed unusual to me – to be able to see so much fluff even when both back wings were flat on his back. But I’m just learning and watching. I have no idea what the norm is.

It seems that today has been about cycles. The life cycle of the peacock tail of feathers, the cycle of a beautiful cathedral that has had parts destroyed by fires in the past, and the lifecycle of a political movement. With nature, it is truly a cycle. I lost my home in California to fire and built a lovely home from the ashes. With what’s happening in the US, one can only pray it cycles out and get into action to give it a big shove. That means Go Vote!

A bientôt,

Sara

Grabbed my journal, rushed for the C train (Notre-Dame part 2)

Only it didn’t happen that way. My plan had been to go to ground zero, Notre-Dame de Paris, Tuesday. I needed to see the devastation, the people, the burned debris on the ground. The day was cold, the sky was grey, Paris was in mourning. My body, exhausted from lack of sleep and anxiety, refused to move.

The final little fires were put out early Wednesday morning. Five hundred firefighters fought through Monday night into Tuesday morning containing the flames. One hundred of them made a long relay line and carried out precious art pieces. Tourists and Parisians alike came down in the morning hours, in the light of day, to see the devastation and saw that the main structure had been saved. The news told us that there was about an hour in the early morning when it could have gone either way. Thanks to the work and determination of five hundred pompiers (firefighters), we still have our Notre-Dame albeit in a very wounded state.

That morning, I made up my mind to join the throng of people. But every god conspired against me. I couldn’t find my walking shoes. My apartment is small enough that things get hidden away when I have company. Well hidden it turns out. My jeans didn’t fit, my lunch carrots had gone slimy bad. I didn’t even know that carrots could get slimy. One thing after another for forty-five minutes challenging my desire to get down there.

Finally I was on my way to RER C. I slide my Navigo over the turnstile and ran down the stairs. The electric billboard said the next train was coming in twenty-six minutes. “No, not another obstacle?” I muttered in English. A few elderly ladies turned to look at me. I made the walk to metro 9, got on, changed to metro 1 and got off at Pont Neuf.

I crossed the Pont St. Michel and got my first glimpse of Notre Dame: the right bell tower. I burst into tears. It looked exactly the same as before the fire from that angle but eighteen hours of holding back my ‘tristesse‘ opened the flood gates. I couldn’t stop crying. I walked by tourists who seemed unaware of the drama that had unfolded there Monday night. I turned left on Quai St. Michel and, as I approached le Petit Pont, more and more people were gathered gazing at the cathedral. Everyone seemed solemn, no one was pushy or aggressive. Some could see well, others couldn’t. The police had cordoned off everything from Pont St. Michel down as far as Pont de l’Archeveche. Firehoses snaked over the ground in front of us. The Gendarmes stood like sentries at the plastic red and white tape that separated us from them. The Station St Michel/Notre Dame was closed for both the RER C and M4. Cité must have been closed because no one was allowed entry to the parvis in front of the Prefecture.

I wanted to walk to Pont de l’Archeveche. I was hoping to take a photo at the exact same spot as the one that was taken of me three or four years ago. Some of the bouquinistes were open. I bought two sepia postcards of the view of the back of Notre-Dame. When I got to the bridge, it, too, was cordoned off. Patiently I waited for a spot to open up and I was able to get close enough to get my photo.

I stood there for awhile, just looking and my tears came and went. I was listening to Joan Baez on Spotify and she started singing ‘Amazing Grace‘. As I was listening and gazing at this beautiful structure that has stood on Ile de la Cité for 850 years, I realized just how much of it was still standing. The firemen DID save her. The sadness started to transform into hope. A friend of mine wrote me and said “it’s like she’s been horrendously wounded and stands suffering for all to see.” Wounds heal, suffering passes.

Almost the same spot as a photo of me (in the last blog) was taken 3 years ago.

Yesterday, Thursday, Mayor of Paris, Anne Hidalgo invited all citizens and ex-Pats to Hotel de Ville (City Hall) for a ceremony to thank the Pompiers for risking their lives, working through the night and saving Notre-Dame. After she told us that she would be requesting that the pompiers be accorded honorary citizenship of the city of Paris, the actor, Nicolas Lormeaux, read an excerpt from Victor Hugo’s Hunchback of Notre-Dame.

Mayor Hidalgo and signer for the deaf

In the novel, Hugo, one of France’s most acclaimed writers, describes, in 1831, flames in the Cathedral when Quasimodo uses fire and stones to attack Truands in order to save Esmerelda.

“All eyes were raised to the top of the church. They beheld there an extraordinary sight. On the crest of the highest gallery, higher than the central rose window, there was a great flame rising between the two towers with whirlwinds of sparks, a vast, disordered, and furious flame, a tongue of which was borne into the smoke by the wind, from time to time. Below that fire, below the gloomy balustrade with its trefoils showing darkly against its glare, two spouts with monster throats were vomiting forth unceasingly that burning rain, whose silvery stream stood out against the shadows of the lower façade.

As they approached the earth, these two jets of liquid lead spread out in sheaves, like water springing from the thousand holes of a watering-pot. Above the flame, the enormous towers, two sides of each of which were visible in sharp outline, the one wholly black, the other wholly red, seemed still more vast with all the immensity of the shadow which they cast even to the sky.

Their innumerable sculptures of demons and dragons assumed a lugubrious aspect. The restless light of the flame made them move to the eye. There were griffins which had the air of laughing, gargoyles which one fancied one heard yelping, salamanders which puffed at the fire, tarasques which sneezed in the smoke. And among the monsters thus roused from their sleep of stone by this flame, by this noise, there was one who walked about, and who was seen, from time to time, to pass across the glowing face of the pile, like a bat in front of a candle.

Without doubt, this strange beacon light would awaken far away, the woodcutter of the hills of Bicêtre, terrified to behold the gigantic shadow of the towers of Notre-Dame quivering over his heaths.”

Translation by Isabel F. Hapsgood

If you wish to donate to the rebuilding of the Cathedrale de Notre-Dame, Please go to this site: https://don.fondation-patrimoine.org/SauvonsNotreDame/~mon-don

A bientôt,

Sara

The Fire at Notre Dame

I had just arrived at the American Library when I was told there was a fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame. I envisioned a small fire–not to worry about. I didn’t respond with much drama. We were walking on the sidewalk of rue General Camou in search of our two speakers for the evening. She stopped me and said ‘Look’. She had her iPhone in her hand and after a bit of a wait–it turned out everyone in Paris was on Wifi at that moment–showed me a photo of the fire at the back of the Cathedrale. NOT a small fire. As I often do at moments like that, I freeze a bit. I could tell by her face that she was very upset. I had yet to get there.

I was volunteering at an author event at the Library. I often get the job of greeting people as they walk in the door, asking them to sign in and showing them the donation box. All the events are open to the public and there is no charge. The library is completely dependent on donations so, with a big smile on my face, I ask them for their 10 euro donation. For a few minutes, I completely forgot about the drama taking place in the 4th arrondissement. Then I turned around and saw one of the other volunteers who was manning the drinks table in tears. She also had her phone in her hand. I walked over and she showed me a live BBC broadcast that she was watching. The fire had doubled in size in the 25 minutes since I’d been out walking to get our speakers. The 13th century spire was engulfed in flames.

I realize most of you know all of this already. I wanted to write about it but it’s not new news. This is my perspective on losing a friend. For two and a half years, I lived on the Quai des Grands Augustins. I had only to open my living room window, and look right and there was that magnificent lady that has/had stood there for over 800 years gracing Paris and being her symbol to the world. She had survived a Revolution and two World Wars. In the mornings, I could see the sun rising behind her and in the evenings, when the sun was setting over the Pont Neuf, the rays would bounce, red and purple, off the round stain glass window between the two towers. One afternoon, after a rain storm, I saw a double rainbow dome the towers. It was a magical moment. I have been to Christmas Eve mass there. I have walked up the left tower to see the gargoyles and the famous bell. The first time I took that walk I was 20 years old and a student at Lake Forest College. The last time was two years ago when my friend Barbara and I climbed it on what turned out to be one of the coldest days of the year. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would ever lose her.

The Spire in flames and about to collapse

Then I moved to the 16th arrondissement in August of 2017. I don’t see Notre Dame on a daily basis anymore. Which makes her all the more stunning when I have to cross the parvis to get to the right bank or am standing on one of the bridges further down the river just gazing at her simple beauty and steadfastness. In history classes or in historical novels that sweep through the centuries, one reads about the destruction of a famous structure and then its rebuilding which takes over 200 hundred years. That will all be told in a couple of pages. As I walked home from the Library last night, I thought “I am part of history. I will never in my lifetime be able to climb the stairs in that tower or walk up the Quai behind Notre Dame, my favourite view, and see the flying buttresses holding up and holding down her flaring skirts.” Notre Dame will be rebuilt but I probably won’t see it.

Sara in 2016. My favorite view – coming up behind the Cathedral, seeing the Spire and the flying buttresses. Photo: Mike Weintraub

At home, I watched the news until it wasn’t news. As with all huge dramas, the newscasters start interviewing bystanders to get their reaction while showing the fire in a corner of the screen. When I went to bed, it wasn’t clear if any part of the Cathedral would be saved. The Fire Chief was optimistic. I had spent an hour responding, in very short sentences, to all my American friends who had written to me expressing their grief in general and their grief for me. I was extremely touched. Paris has become my home and my friends know that. One e-mail just said “So sad”. Another “I grieve with you”. They didn’t need to say more.

Watching the news at 10:30pm. The Spire is gone, the roof is gone. The Cathedral had started renovations which were badly needed and you can see the steel structure that had been holding the spire in place. The renovation was to take 20 years.

This morning, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt as if a great good friend had died and I was miserable. Bijou stood by my bed and cried and cried. She was hungry and didn’t care about something 3 kms away. So I was forced out of bed. After giving her her very favourite food, I got on the computer and learned that the main structure had been saved and some of the most valuable art work had been rescued. No one was injured or killed. Macron warned that little fires were still burning and they expected that for the next couple of days. I plan to walk down there this afternoon and pay my respects. I’m pretty sure that I am not at all prepared for what I’ll see. After the twin towers came down, I flew to New York. I wanted to make it real. Watching some news on TV is not so different from watching an action movie. I have to see it with my own eyes to know it happened and have my own private experience.

Photo: Julien Mattia/Le Pictorium
Crowds gather opposite the cathedral on the bank of the Seine to watch the fire
Photograph: Thomas Samson/AFP/Getty Images
The cathedral’s steeple collapses
Photograph: Geoffroy van der Hasselt/AFP/Getty Images
IF you’ve been to Paris, this one will make you cry. Flames and smoke are seen billowing from the roof at Notre-Dame Cathedral
Photograph: Veronique de Viguerie/Getty Images

I hope these photos are helpful for you to grasp what Paris, the citizens of Paris, the country went through last night. The country is already devastated by billions of euros loss because of the Gilets Jaunes protests. Now this. I believe Macron is hoping to appeal to the International world to raise funds to rebuild this beautiful Cathedral.

A bientôt,

Sara

Remembering Rue Git-le-Coeur

Before Elodie, my downstairs neighbor, went on a rant to tell me I was once more doing something illegal, I tried to have a window garden in my apartment at Git-le-Coeur. My window was quite large and looked out over the Seine to Pont Neuf. I had an arm chair pulled close and would sit there for at least twenty minutes every morning filled with gratitude at living in this beautiful city I call home. I’m sure I didn’t need the garden but, as an adult, I have always had green things growing, something to care for. I certainly didn’t need Elodie as the Apartment Police pointing out the laws I was breaking. I want to be clear that I never set out to break the law! I didn’t know better and french administration being what it is…… It seems there truly is a law in Paris that no one can have a window garden that has the remotest chance of falling on the sidewalk and hurting someone. I can’t help but look up in my wanderings around Paris to see who is committing a window garden felony!

My apartment building on Git-le-Coeur sat on the corner of Quai des Grands Augustins. There is one apartment per floor. Elodie lives on the first floor, I lived on the second floor, the apartment on the third floor is rented by a family living in Brussels who visit Paris once every other month or so. The fourth and fifth floor is one apartment owned by Mr. and Mrs. X. Everything that happens in the building has to be voted on by the owners. Elodie and the Xs hate each other so Elodie always loses as she has one vote to the Xs two votes.

Notre Dame at sunrise

My living room was huge for a Parisian apartment. Two windows looked north, over the Seine to 36 quai des Orfèvres where the infamous Paris Homicide Unit resided until a year ago. If I leaned out one of those windows and looked right, I had a full view of Catedrale de Notre Dame. I took dozens of photos of the sun rising behind the cathedral. Once I caught a full rainbow hanging over the spires gracing a dark grey sky. It was magical.

Le Seine and Pont Neuf from my window

Two windows looked out on Git-le-Coeur, the Canadian Pub and Pont Neuf. It was this view that became my North Star for the almost three years that I lived at Git-le-Coeur. Everyone knew how I loved that view. Artist friends would draw it and give the drawings to me as presents. After Elodie and I made our peace with each other, she presented me with a copy of a painting of our building and the Seine. She had seen the painting at an Expo at the Musee d’Art Moderne although it was painted in 1904. She went to great trouble to get it copied and then had it framed for me.

Elodie is truly the only person I know who speaks no English at all. Befriending her was a challenge. She is a very bobo frenchwoman. My friend, F, says she always has her nose just slightly in the air. I decided to kill her with kindness. After the tenth leak from my bathroom down to her apartment (three happened while I lived there), I wanted to help her confront the owner of my apartment. He lives in Madrid and is a lazy owner, only wanting money and ignores all pleas to fix the many things wrong. I bought her a small present at BHV and wrote her a note saying that we would figure this out together. She melted slowly even inviting me to coffee one day. Because my french is mediocre, I would find myself avoiding opportunities to talk with her. Now that I live in the 16eme, we have developed a schedule of meeting every other week for coffee so that I can practice my french. She still plays police only now she is the Academie Police. I wrote her an e-mail this winter beginning “Salut Elodie”. When I arrived at her apartment a couple of days later, she sat me down telling me one never ever uses Salut in writing. It just isn’t done. It is for waving and greeting a friend on the street. Of course, that evening, I saw it used in writing by someone of a much younger generation.

Av. Mozart, Paris 16eme

I miss Git-le-Coeur sometimes. I love my new neighbourhood but it took months to adjust. I will dream of that large living room and my window gazing out on the Pont Neuf. Elodie tells me the apartment is still empty. Little strings get tugged in my heart but then I remember my lazy landlord, my nasty, greedy agent and think how wonderful it was to live there and that I now live in a real Parisian neighborhood.

A bientôt,

Sara