The Hard Truths of History

These two plaques, and others like them around the city, speak to a dark chapter in the history of France. The first is on the side of an elementary school in Montmartre and commemorates the Jewish students from that school who were sent to Nazi death camps in Eastern Europe. The second, located at the Orsay (now a museum, then a train station), remembers those who made it back. The plaque notes that the Orsay was the major site for the repatriation of people from the Nazi camps.

Anyone who studies French history knows about the troubling history of the war years, although it's something with which the French themselves have struggled for a long time. Note that the date of the plaque on the school says that it was only installed in 2003. It took American scholars to help tell the story of occupied and Vichy France because French historians were reluctant to delve into that episode on their own. What the scholars have found is that the French sent their Jews to the east even before the Nazis asked them to. They hoped, mistakenly, that they could befriend the Nazis and make the occupation less onerous. In the end, it was a devil's bargain.

Every nation has its demons -- France, the US, everyone. History is often not a pretty sight (take it from a professional historian). But maybe plaques like these begin a process of learning for everyone. I don't believe that history has strict lessons to teach us, but we can reflect on what has happened in the hopes of being better and wiser people as we confront the future.

Students Everywhere

There’s a lycée -- a high school -- just down the street from the apartment, and most mornings I can hear the students gathering outside in the street. They stand around in little groups, just like American teenagers, but the collective effect in this little street is to create an enormous sea of kids. Their voices echo the sounds of French on the stone and brick walls of the rue Suger and fill the morning air with talk and laughter.

Reid Hall, where my office is located, is the home not just of the Columbia University study abroad program but also hosts many other schools’ study abroad programs. So it’s full of American college students, many of whom like to gather in the garden and talk in English, sharing stories of their lives in Paris.

Living so close to two groups of students, it almost feels like I’m still on campus much of the time. And there really aren’t that many differences between the French and American students I see so often. They gather to share each other’s company and to learn about life and themselves.

Making a Mark

Alongside the river, there are a series of trees which people have used to make their mark. Although I don't like the fact that these trees have been damaged, they make an interesting visual effect lined up one after another with all sorts of messages.

People have been carving their initials into trees, walls, and other places for years, of course. But there must be something special about leaving your mark by the Seine.

The Dogs of Paris

The Metro is going to the dogs.

As I was riding to the Institute this afternoon, I sat across a woman wearing a floppy pink hat. She held a long chain in one hand, the other end of which disappeared underneath her seat. I thought it was attached to a bag.

But then I saw something move behind her legs. Then a little face peeked out. The other end of her chain was attached to a black dog with floppy ears. The dog came out from under the seat and looked around. It wasn't frightened or nervous, just curious.

Then, a few minutes later, two men got on with a dog of their own. The car got crowded, and I couldn't see very much, but it appeared that the two dogs were meeting each other and exploring a new friendship. Everyone around was looking down, watching the dogs, and smiling -- and it takes a lot to get people to smile on the Metro.

Paris is a dog town, something you can tell by the amount of poop on the sidewalk. A few years ago, I sat in church next to a dog that someone had brought. But they're different from dogs in the US. Parisian dogs are extremely well-behaved. Neither of the dogs today barked, jumped, or made even one sound. The dog in church didn't either. I'm sure that they're trained very well. After all, being a little dog in a big city can be dangerous.

The Mystery of the Scarf

If I'm going to continue writing about French culture, I think I should write something about the importance of the scarf. Everyone -- men, women, old, young -- wears them. It's hard to walk down the street without seeing scarves of every design and color, worn in any number of ways and tied with a variety of knots. They are quintessentially French clothing.

Scarves are, perhaps, the ultimate fashion accessory for Parisians who live in small apartments and have much smaller wardrobes than Americans with big walk-in closets. Wear a neutral color, and you can create numerous outfits just by changing your scarf.

Someone recently suggested to me that they're good for the weather we're having (chilly in the morning, warmer in the afternoon) because you can wear a scarf to keep warm at first and then take it off later. I've strugged with keeping my body temperature constant because I dress for the morning chill, and then I walk so much with a heavy bag that inevitably I'm sweaty by the time I arrive at my destination. Maybe switching to a scarf would do the trick.

I also think the ubiquity of the scarf is rooted in some old folk medical tradition about keeping your throat warm to stave off sickness. It sounds like the kind of advice that was passed down from grandmothers to grandchildren and has lingered on as part of the cultural collective wisdom.

Whatever the reason, the Parisians love their scarves.

Eating in the rue des Rosiers

After leaving the Archive Nationale today, I walked down the rue des Rosier, the heart of the Jewish neighborhood in Paris. I had a falafel pita from one of the many restaurants that offer take out at their windows. It reminded me of my first falafel pita on that same street on my first trip to Paris 10 years ago.

The rue des Rosiers is an interesting place, a little bit Paris, a little bit Jerusalem. Along the street, Orthodox men in black hats walked or gathered in groups to talk with one another. Signs with stars of David adorn the shopfronts as do menorahs in the windows. Someone told me recently that you can get pretty good bagels in this neighborhood -- not quite a New York bagel, but close. I saw some, along with a range of other delicious looking treats, in the window of an impressive bakery. I might go there tomorrow for lunch.

In front of me standing at the take out window were some Americans, probably college kids. One of them had ordered a pita, and the girl next to him asked, "Did you just say 's'il vous please?'" (rather than "s'il vous plait," or "please" in French). I didn't hear him make such a funny mixture of French and English ("franglais," as some call it), so I don't know whether he said it or not. But it somehow seemed appropriate for such a multicultural place as the rue des Rosiers. Either way, he got his pita.

Death in the Garden

I had never noticed this plaque in the Jardin du Luxembourg before a few days ago. It commemorates the execution of Parisians who rose up against the government in 1871 at the end of the Franco-Prussian war. Following weeks of siege by the Prussian army and the collapse of Napoleon III's regime, the city decided to go its own way -- essentially to secede from France -- and not join the new national government that was forming at Versailles. The plaque reads, "The Senate in homage to the insurgents of the Paris Commune shot against this wall on May 25, 1871." (The French Senate owns and operates the Jardin du Luxembourg.)

The reason why this piqued my interest initially is that there is a much more infamous wall where the so-called Communards (those who supported secession) were executed in Pere-Lachaise cemetery. It's called the "Mur des Federes" and was the site of commemorative ceremonies for years (it may still be) for people on the political left. But an execution site in a cemetery doesn't seem so shocking. An execution site in one of the most beautiful parks in Paris, was a jarring juxtaposition. And you can see it depicted in the plaque.