Cafe de Flore - an appreciation

This is not a tragic film. No-one dies in this film. It is a film about letting go, about transition, about turning the corner when you thought you were going straight ahead.

There are two stories here. They do not segue, one into the other. One story is set in Paris in 1969. The other story is set in Toronto in the present day. There is not a character in the first story who appears in the second story. Don’t try to find one. However, the two stories examine the difficulty encountered by human beings who have to contend with change.

It is a terrific story, and a very fine film. The narrative put me in mind of ‘Babel’ with Cate Blanchette and an American male actor. The director, Jean-Marc Vallee, has created a multi-layered film which utilises music and our cultural expectations to assist his audience to follow the characters on their transition.

The two main characters are Jacqueline, played by Vanessa Paradis, and Carole played by Helene Florent. I am not sure why the film is titled ‘Cafe de Flore’. All I can think of is that the cafe of the same name in 6th arrondissement in Paris was a meeting place for intellectual discussion in the ‘50s and ‘60s. This film makes manifest an intellectual conceit: transition.

Jacqueline gives birth to a son, Lauren (played by Marin Gerrier) who has Down Syndrome, and we are told that she finally realises why she is on this earth. As a single mother, Jacqueline, devotes her life to ensuring her son is happy and loved. The relationship between the two actors is just superb. Riding on the metro, we are told that children with this genetic problem have a life expectancy of about 25 years. When Laurent is seven he goes to school, meets, and falls in love with Vero who also has Down Syndrome. Jacqueline’s life hits a brick wall. She had not considered that by loving and ensuring that Laurent had the skills to live his own life, she would no longer be central to his life. Letting go is the issue here. The penultimate scene for this story line occurs in a car as Jacqueline takes both Laurent and Vero to check out a new school. We have all the visuals and the music cues to indicated that something traumatic is going to happen. Then the screen is frozen on a single headlight. The final scene in this story shows Jacqueline pacing a deck at the back of a house, dressed quite differently from previously.

Carole has only had one lover in her life, Antoine, played by Kevin Parent. We are told that very early on, when Carole was a middling teenager, she knew that Antoine was the love of her life. They have two girls, and when Carole and Antoine are in their 30s, Antoine meets and falls in love with Rose, played by Evelyne Brochu. Carole is convinced that Antoine will return to her, and her daughters are caught in the middle. Carole and Antoine are still in love, but it is a love of respect not a love of passion. There is nothing that says love must be serial. With Carole there are a number of scenes where she is driving a car, the music is there, the tension is there, but she is not ready. Eventually, Vallee uses the same technique to indicate that Carole has bridged the divide. The next scene is a poolside party where it is obvious that Carole has let go of her teenage conceits, and is ready to live her life on a deeper, more meaningful plane.

This is a splendid film.

Revenez aux leçons françaises

So, once again, I headed across to the north side of the harbour for my weekly French lesson with Guy at Mosman High School. Once again, there were five students - all female. My guess is that two of us are in our 60s (as is Guy), one in her 50s, one in her 40s, and one in her 30s. I really enjoy this group. I am not sure what their standard of grammar is, but some have wonderful accents already. With just 5 of us, there is so much more interaction than when I was in a class of 20. Here we can ask questions, interrupt the flow for clarification, without feeling we are holding half the class up. I have an issue with the pronounciation of 'gare' and want to rhyme it with 'bear' rather than 'far'. The two hours fairly skittle along, and I have to be on my toes all the time. I actually listen to the others, rather than tune out.

One thing that was remarked upon and which horrified us all, was the condition of the classroom. Delapidated, in need of a paint, refurbishment of student tables and chairs, and the heating was woeful. How do the kids concentrate on their work? And this in a state high school in a very high socio-economic area, albeit a high proportion of teenagers in that area attend private/independent schools.

Logistically, I am still getting the hang of it. The 389 bus arrives across the road at 7:32 and the 245 leaves the rank at Wynyard at 7:56am. So I jig-a-jog (take that with a grain of salt) from Elizabeth Street, down through Martin Place, across George, across the Batallion Memorial in Wynyard Close, and into Carrington Street where I have to make it to the very last bus stand of quite a few. Luckily there are a couple of dozen other students waiting there for the very same destination (probably Business classes, or English as a Second Language). Arriving at Mosman Junction about 8:20, I have tonnes of time for a large flat white and a pain aux raisins (aka a snail) at La Pattisserie Francaise before crossing over Bradleys' Head Road on my way to class.


Here is another selection of shops in Mosman Junction. The shops over there are quite similar to the shops here in Paddington, but the houses are so very different. Shall try to show you some next week, when instead of coming home the same way as I went over, I want to work out the logistics of bussing down to the Athol Street Wharf (below Taronga Zoo) and catching a ferry back to Circular Quay. Hah! What joy!

Decisions! Decisions!

I am really keen to continue with my learning of the French language, and my travels to Paris. Two dominant reasons: firstly, I like France, things French, and I like Paris; secondly, learning is good for my brain, and travel is good for my body.

I had completed 6 terms of learning (9 weeks per term) with my tutor, Guy, before he reduced his tutoring due to medical issues. I like his style of teaching, so I followed him to his 'other' institute, across the harbour on the other side of town, earlier in the morning AND on a Saturday to boot. Now I hear from three sources at my previous institute, that there is a bit of a kerfuffle about the new teaching style. The dreaded 'working in pairs' has raised its ugly head. I do not like that style. I do not thrive on that style.

I was going to do a class at both the institutes. However, I like the new institute across the harbour. The class is revision but of a very high order. There are only 5 of us in the class, in comparison with 20 previously. The two hours went so quickly as there was Soooo much participation.

I am endeavouring to set up an email essay writing critique among those disaffected. Hope I get some nibbles.

Skinning cats

At the end of our class today, Guy dropped a bombshell. He will not be taking our course next term. You could have heard a pin drop. Instead, he was going to gallivant off to Royal North Shore and have either 3 stents implanted or a coronary bypass performed. The jury is still out, I gather.

I think he is in his mid-60s, yes slim and active. He found he was running out of puff hoofing it up Bathurst Street from the WEA to catch the train back over the bridge after classes. So he got himself checked out. Good for him!

He will continue to take classes at Mosman Community Centre, however. Up until now, he has taken a significant class load at both adult education centres. His wife, Kathleen, also takes classes at Mosman, and, hence, continuing that is easier for him. He did say he had hopes of returning to the WEA in Term 4 and that another instructor had been organised to replace him for Term 3.

Our equivalent class over at Mosman is on a Saturday from 11:15 until 1:15. There ia another class that Guy takes at Mosman, which would be revision for me, from 9am until 11am. I have already enrolled for the WEA class for Term 3. I will email Guy and check out the revision class, and might go with that as a continuing pump-up.

I do hope he flies through this. He is a lovely man, and a wonderful ambassador for his native language.

Je parle une langue deuxieme ... peut être

Yesterday, in class, I had to deliver my first talk in French. I quite enjoyed trying to get the accent right, and to deliver in an interesting manner for my listeners. Here is what I wrote (and spoke):

Qui est? Je suis Australienne. J‘étais née à Australie. J’ai un diplôme en économie de l’université de Melbourne. J’ai un frère aîné, et une sœur cadette. J’étais dix ans quand mon père est mort. Bien que j’ai haute avec cheveux blonde, je ne suis pas belle. Pourtant, peut être mon caractère attire les gens à moi. Les gens pensent j’ai le charisme. Je travail dur du métier, tous les deux ici et outre-mer. Les heures sont longes, mais le revenu est généreux. Je paye mes impôts. Je contribue à ma communauté, souvent pro-bono. Je mariiais pendant treize ans et j’ai trois fils. Je ne suis pas une hypocrite. Je fais comme je dis. Et néanmoins, je suis tourné en ridicule sans pité parce que je me défends ce que je crois.

Any ideas?

Yesterday, also, I enrolled for the next term of lessons through the WEA in Bathurst Street. The lecturer is just superbe, and my fellow students, come and go, but the core group are stayers. This will be my 7th Term, meaning that I will have about 100 hours under my belt.

The next aim is to sus out a course in Paris for the northern autumn of 2012. I already have 5 possibilities from assorted peoples. I want something that is 3 or 4 weeks long, is either 3 or 4 hours each morning. I am not fussed about there being group activities in the afternoons. I am sufficiently resourceful that way myself. And besides, I will need the rest and the headspace.

Sign language

Knowing what signs say is often fairly useful when in a foreign country that uses a language other than one's own. It can save a lot of frustration, and maybe even your life! So from the get-go I collected signs on my excursions all over Paris. Here are just a few of them.


The first sign was attached to the boundary fence of Jardin du Luxembourg and says 'The puppets of the gardens amuse the young and the old (actually the little and the big) with their artistic spectacles.' Most people could have decoded that one. The second sign was down at the Parc Floral de Paris at Chateau Vincennes. I encountered similar signs in nearly all the parks I entered. It says 'These grasses are planted of (with) bulbs. Respect them. Thankyou'.


Ah, now this next sign saved me from being skittled - once I worked out what it meant. Firstly, I thought it was saying that I had two minutes to cross. But I knew that minutes in French is the same as in English. The sign actually says 'Attention pedestrians! Cross in two times (goes)'. Meaning that the pedestrian crossing was controlled by two signs that operated independently. Cross this lane, then wait, then cross the other lane. Phew! Glad I read that one carefully. The second sign is actually three signs and is down toward rue Cler in the 7eme. The first sign is a standard street sign and they are all of this design. The second sign says 'I like my neighbourhood. I pick up. The sanitary department rules provide for fines for infractions possibly up to E450'. The third sign in this little group says I think 'It is an offence to take down these orders under pain of a fine'. The Sanitary Department reckons it is serious about dog turds on the footpath.


No idea about this first one. It is over on rue vieux Colombier beside the theatre. The words say "Column of dry descending - Column of dry rising'. Any ideas? The second sign is a bit of bureacratic sillyness. It says 'Attention pedestrians. This sign has moved'. It is next to the repositioned pedestrian crossing in front of Eglise Saint Sulpice over in the 6eme.


So for the final two. The first sign was on the railing around the flower park down at Chateau Vincennes yesterday and says "Fixing your bike to this railing is banned under pain of being impounded'. There were no bikes anywhere. The final sign was a little beauty that I espied with my little eye in Montmatre Cemetery. It was at the base of a tomb that was in considerable disrepair and says 'This concession has been abandoned. To make application to start again address yourself to the curator.' Many plots are granted in perpetuity, but not this one, I gather.

Hope you enjoyed these!!

My building (mon immeuble)

Rue de Bourgogne runs parallet to Des Invalides (one street back) down to La Seine. It is one-way going away from the river. This is the main entry-way. Most buildings of this era in Paris have an inner court-yard, some with lovely gardens. I have shown you my court-yard earlier on Face-Book.


I am renting a small studio on the 4th floor. The ground floor in Paris is 0. There is the tiniest of lifts, but it works a treat thus far, with nary a creak.

As there is just me in the apartment, I leave the sofa made up as a bed all the time. The outlook from the window is a delight, with lots of fresh air which I need. The only thing missing is something to play music. I do have a zillion tv channels, but SKY (UK) is abyssmal. I quite like Aljazeera (from DOHA) and find it very even-handed staffed by proper journalists from around the world. How I have solved the music problem is to listen to Classic-FM via the ABC online.


That is me up there on the 4th floor (0, 1, 2, 3, 4)- right there under the eaves with the window open.

Guess to whom this is read ...

And, of course, I acknowledge the copyright owners of this work, Emma Dodd and Albin Michel Jeunesse without whom we would not have this immense pleasure.

I found this book in a store on Le Rue Saint-Jacques in Paris.

The book is a joy to touch as well as to read.

Le monde est vaste

et je suis si petit.

Tout va vite

et je suis si petit.

L'ocean est profound

et je suis si petit.

Les montagnes sont hautes

et je suis si petit.

La vent est violent et je suis si petit.

L'hiver est long et je suis si petit.

Le ciel est infini

et je suis si petit.

Les etoiles sont lointaines

et je suis si petit.

Tout est immense, et rapide et profound

et sombre et long et haut

et je suis si petit.

Mais toi, tu es fort et tu es doux ... Quand je suis tout contre toi, il ne peut rien m'arriver.

Je suis petit, mas je sais que pour toi ce qui compte le plus au monde

... c'est moi!