Island in the Sun
Here's the island, up front, but cold around the corner.
Light and Shadows on the Ile Saint-Louis
By Richard Erickson
Paris Kiosque - March 1998 - Volume 5, Number 3
Copyright (c) 1998 Richard Erickson - used with permission
Riding on the train from
Saint-Cloud, I check my weather station from the moving train window above
Suresnes, and it looks great. I can toss away my 'lucky' rabbit's foot and
uncross my fingers. We still have fake spring.
After Wednesday's scampering around I was sure we'd lose it, but it is still
here. The papers say Paris had Pollution Level Two yesterday, but it looks too
clear for it. Not yet, anyway. The radio was warning of a 'Grand Depart' with the
school holidays starting today, so there will more traffic than usual this
afternoon.
I run my possible route around my head, to try and calculate the least
métro stairs, the least walking and the least need for métro
tickets. In this way I change the way I will do it three times.
What I do, I just ride to Hôtel de Ville, buy my paper and hit the
city's reception office to pluck their stands of all useful brochures and
magazines. I also ask the
ladies there if
they have anything hidden away I should know about but all they have is stuff I
got last time. The only new thing is a who's who in the Montparnasse
cemetery.
One of the more famous shops in the rue Saint-Louis-en-l'Ile: Berthillon.
Out in front of the vast city hall, I am surprised to see the ice skating rink
is still open and clogged with skaters. Probably people not going to winter
holidays later today. In fact, a sign says it is only closed for rain. It won't
be closed today unless a heavy low moves in fast.
The Pont d'Arcole gives me a mysterious view of today's subject. I reckon it
is about 260 metres from the bridge to the tip of the Ile Saint Louis, but it
looks much further away.
There is blue mist somewhere between the bridge and the island and it looks
like a dream; some sort of Flying Dutchman, ready to pass downstream right under
my feet - except it is attached to the banks and the other island.
I make my way along the quai aux Fleurs. There is a bit here, where the rue
des Ursins and the rue de Chantres touch the quai and it is hard to get past it.
It's one of the corners in Paris that seems to deserve at least 60 minutes, or
more.
Looking over at the island, it has popped off its blue mantle. From the deep
green of the river to the quai wall, to the top of the facing row of buildings,
it says... It probably says, 'I am warm on this side where the sun
is coming around, but my stone on the north side never
ever feels its touch.'
The quai d'Orléans - curiously sans sunbathers.
Talking buildings. Indeed! But so it is, on the quai Bourbon, the sun never
shines. It is always cool, even on the hottest day.
Of course this is mid-February and the sun has no right to be shining at all;
and it is not quite as bright as one February I remember about seven or eight
years ago. That day, it was one of a rare thousand. But that is why I remember it
and always hope it will come back again. So far, it hasn't quite done it, but
there have been four or five days like today. There were two or three Februarys
when it didn't happen at all too.
The pont Saint Louis is one of the uglier bridges anywhere; it doesn't even
look like a bridge when you are on it. It has sidewalks and a wide roadway on
which there is no traffic and it has railings of some sort. It is okay to look
off it when you get close to the island side, but anywhere else brings no sights,
not even from the river below.
The brasserie, the 'Oasis,' has its usual horde of sun fanatics. The
café is set in such a way so that its terrace fully faces the sun. I
secretly believe the people who have filled every seat I can see, are the same
ones who were in them seven or eight years ago.
Like me, they watch the weather closely on TV in mid-February, then get up at
six and listen to the radio news. Then they have to wait until about 7:30 for the
sun to come up for confirmation - and if there's fog or mist, this could put off
the certainty for a while longer. By about 9:00 they should be pretty sure, and I
bet they're in their seats before the sun comes around the building on the quai
d'Orléans. It must be cool until it does.
They are really glued in there. How sweet life is. The waiters are in a good
mood, the clients are in a good mood, their pets are in good moods too; and there
will be no afternoon lull.
Me, I have to 'cover the island.' There's the nearly black canyon of the rue
Saint-Louis-en-l'Ile to go down. It's not so much that I have an urge to sit on
the terrace, but I don't really want to leave the sun.
One of the regular readers once asked me if I knew of his favorite restaurant;
a half-cellar kind of place. I don't know it but at least I'll keep an eye out
for it. The shops lining the rue
Saint-Louis-en-l'Ile seem unchanged from 20 years ago. Oh, they are well-painted
and kept up, but they stay the same. They are very tidy, as if it is all a
historical monument.
There's a fellow on the bridge looking for sunbathers too.
Well it is and it isn't. The Ile Saint Louis is mostly residential except for
these shops and some bars, cafés and restaurants, so the street is the
village.
There are no public housing estates on the 720 metre-long island, so I expect
the shoppers can afford these shops. If they can't, the walk to rue de Rivoli on
the right bank is not too far; maybe 50 metres closer than the marché at
the place Maubert on the left bank.
I go beyond the rue des Deux Ponts, which is the main cross-island street. I
want to hit the south side to get a long view of all the sunbathers on the quai
side walk, just above the Seine's waters. But where I come out on the quai de
Béthune, it is just river below.
The pont de la Tournelle is not really fancy but it is a lot better than the
other one. Somebody must have been annoyed with Louis and the Bourbons.
But first I have to take some liquid. At the corner of the bridge and the
quais and the rue des Deux Ponts the café there has 'best pot for 1994' or
something similar on its awning and although it is not fancy on the outside, it
is pleasant enough inside.
Inside it is also lunchtime and it is pretty full. It does not seem to be in
any frenzy though and there are no other stand-uppers at the bar.
It is very bright with the light-surfaced bridge out in front, so I doubt
anybody cares overly that there is no terrace. I seem to remember coming by here
once, not so long ago, and there were people on the quai side pavement. The
sidewalk is a narrow one, but if they could get rid of a couple of parked cars
they could set up on the street of the quai d'Orléans without being in any
particular danger. Somebody didn't think of it in time this morning I guess.
Out on the quai I see the 1910 highwater mark and then I spot an iron stairway
going down and I take it. It was made for people with short feet and it is a fair
way down.
By now I know the usual crowd of sunbathers must have already left for the
mountains. Either that, or they are over in the Luxembourg, taking in the sights
there.
Two English-speaking young ladies, who do not look like nuns, sitting on a
concrete bench, have shopping bags and clear plastic cups with red stuff in them.
A French chap is chatting them up, and I get a sneer when I ask if they are
having a picnic.
It's just a pause for a bit of grape I guess because they seem to have no
food; and they all move off after a short bit, seeming to have run out of
everything. The ladies go up the iron stairs and the guy pushes his bike down the
quai.
This pretty much leaves me with the river, the bridges, the quai and the sun
and I look at all of this for a while. I'm not in a hurry but I don't sit down,
and soon I am moving down the nearly deserted quai.
Near the end, where the ramp goes up, there is a nice confusion of angles with
the down ramp, some up stairs, and a bit of further on quai-path that curves
around the downstream end of the island. I am a little low on film and give it
up. It's not going anyplace and there will be another day - morning would likely
be better anyway as it is all very bright
now and it
would probably just look like a lot of well- illuminated stone.
The Island; here comes the sun.
I do go over to the quai Bourbon to see if it looks blue in the shadow there.
It doesn't, but the river is fairly still, running full, and there is a lot of
sky in it and the bridges are making good shadows. It doesn't really mean
anything; it is just one of those moments when it looks good. It'll probably be
over in five minutes.
Down at pont Marie I shoot the wine bar on the corner. There is one of these
drugstore cowboy jeeps in the way and it's too high to shoot over so I have to
take an angle I don't like, and later I will see that the one-hour photo print
got its colors wrong. I can probably fix them, but I can't fix the angle. Why
can't these cowboys get low sportscars instead of these idiotic city
four-wheelers?
And that's it. I take the pont Marie without looking back and head the 350
metres to Saint-Paul where I get the métro and ride up to George Cinq.
Even on the Champs-Elysées this is a dud week for posters.
After leaving in the film, I shortcut across Pierre Charron and then go down
George Cinq towards Alma to look for Gérard Depardieu's agent. In their
reception, they have some really good film posters from the late thirties. Then I
remember I have to pick up another film that's ready, out at La
Défense.
Richard Erickson, living in Paris for the last twenty years, has been putting
Paris online as long as anyone. More of his writings can be found in
Metropole Paris
where this article first appeared.
He can be contacted via
erickso@world-net.sct.fr.
