TV dreams! : Sur le plateau du Grand Journal de Canal+

At about 18h45, we began « lining up » to enter the stage (n.b. For all the talk of the cartesian ways, French people don’t line up.  They mob), I started to get really psyched up.  I was about to attend the live broadcast of my favorite television program in France, Le Grand Journal on Canal+.  As we pushed our way through the mass of people, we finally made it down the hallway and out onto the stage.  Waiting to be placed among the white tiered benches reserved for the audience, Christelle and I took in the scene.  She had already attended several recordings, so the moment was not as shiny and new as it was for me.  They seated us together in the middle row of three rows of stadium benches behind the regular cast of the show.  We soon learned that we would be facing the show’s guests who would be seated on the other side of the hour-glass shaped table.

While we waited for the show to begin, the JT (journal télévisé) de Canal+ played on screens around us.  About 10 minutes before the show would begin being broadcast, the show’s host, Michel Denisot, walked out to his seat at the head of the table, facing the teleprompter, flanked by the two rows of seats reserved for the regular presenters of the Grand Journal and the show’s special guests.

As the make-up and hair people touched up Denisot’s look with some powder and a few spritzes of hairspray, Ariane Massenet and Ali Badou entered the stage to take their seats right in front of us !  As they underwent their final hair and make-up touchups, a bespectacled forty-something man briefed us on how to react and control our movements during the show.  Certain moments would require strong, vigorous applause.  For other moments, like when a well-appreciated cast member (like Yann Barthès or Charlotte Le Bon) entered, applause should be accompanied by shouts, whoops, whistles and other noises, within reason, that would highlight the personality’s sex appeal.  We were also informed that we should refrain from extraneous movements (including the obvious less hygenic or embarrassing sorts of gestures or reflexes) at least until the commercial breaks or in between the two parts of the show.

Well-informed and at least partially trained, we heard a woman shout « 30 seconds » !  At the end of that delay began the familiar opening music of the Grand Journal, signaling our cue to produce spirited applause.  As the first half of the show is more devoted to serious matter such as news and politics, whistles and shouting would have been deemed inappropriate.

The guests in the first part were Eva Joly, a candidate from the French Green Party for the presidential primaries.  The other guest was a novelist who wrote a story called Ticket d’Entrée about politics and journalism and the desire for power with a sort of Illusions Perdues ending.  (He did not hesitate to evoke another Balzac title, Splendeurs et Misères des courtisans while also claiming that fiction is the only truth, an idea to which my literary side totally subscribes.)

Being present for the live transmission of the show made me aware of how much the program really feels like an average conversation between a small group of people.  When you are physically present in the room, it doesn’t feel like you are on TV.  For once, you actually get to be that proverbial « fly on the wall » for a dinner conversation that doesn’t involve you at all.  The only difference being that there are hundreds of thousands of other flies watching through their own screens at home.  However, the way the sound is enhanced through the TV makes the setting much less intimate than in person.

Finally, in the second half which is devoted to music, cinema, culture and commentary, the show’s guests were Mathieu Kassovitz, who has directed and starred in several films  such as La Haine and who was on the show to promote an animated movie called The Prodigies in which he lends his voice to a character in the French dubbed version.  There were also two less well-known groups of female singers, Brigitte (which is actually a group of two women) and Les Chanteuses (also a group of two women).  During Le Petit Journal, Yann Barthès was surprising for his size – he is very petit !  As for Les Guignols and Service après-vente des émissions with Omar and Fred, we watched these segments on the screens just like people at home.  Apparently Omar and Fred are too busy to come into the studio for their short 3 minute segment.

When the show was over, we passed back through the same way we came in to pick up our bags, electronics (no cameras or phones were allowed) and coats at the coat check, and our IDs from the jolly man at the door who jokingly asked where I had obtained my carte d’identité.  He probably doesn’t see too many Florida driver’s licenses.


Le Grand Journal from June 7, 2011
I only appear briefly in certain large pans of the room.  Like I mentioned, I'm in the middle row to the left of the main presenter.  I'm wearing a navy blue dress with a colorful tie around the middle.  My hair is down, and I'm the third person from the end, closest to large screen.  If you spot the slighly large guy with a bald head, but long hair, my friend is sitting next to him and I'm next to her.  The best chances to see me (briefly!) is at 7 min and 15 seconds in "Partie 1" and 15:44 in "Partie 2".  Hit pause.  There is a guy raising is hand in the bottom left-hand corner of the screen (he's directing the applause!)  I'm in front of him to the right by two people.

Roland Garros x2 (in progress)

Some photos from May 27, 2011 at Roland Garros: narrative and more photos to follow

Cérémonie de clôture (closing ceremonies) de Cannes!

Quelle coïncidence!  I don't usually turn on the television on the weekends, but since I had been sitting grading papers all afternoon, I decided to accompany my dinner with a little small screen entertainment.  As luck would have it, I happened to switch on the set 10 seconds before the closing ceremonies were to begin.  It's true that I am relatively easily moved to tears, but the scene was absolutely magnificent.  The hall where the prizes would be distributed resembled that of the Hollywood Oscars, but the atmosphere was completely different.  Firstly, Mélanie Laurent, the maîtresse de cérémonie was absolutely superb, both in her physical presence and in her approach to the presentation.  Secondly, Robert Deniro, the president of the jury received a standing ovation and did his best to produce as much French as he could in his introduction of the other members of the jury.  His effort was clearly appreciated and his humility was astounding.

The entire award presentation lasted a mere hour, and all of the recepients seemed sincerely humbled by the honor of receiving their respective palme or caméra d'or.  It was truly a nice touch to see all of the members of the jury sitting on stage and seemingly assuming responsability for their choices rather than having the winners thanking an elusive "academy".  The weeklong festival is certainly a great spectacle and perhaps overly extravagant at times. Nonetheless, the beauty of the setting as revealed on the evening news and in photographs as well as the sober glamour of the closing ceremony made the festival feel more like the celebration of great art rather than simply an overly extravagant display of great means.

Lessons in humility

When I began this online writing experiment about 10 months ago, I gave it the somewhat general title "Journeys" so that when I left France, I wouldn't feel as though I needed to start a new blog in order to continue writing.  In fact, I even began a new blog, "Metropolitan meditations and running ruminations" so as to distinguish my travel writing from my random thoughts.  And yet, what this blog is really about is life's journeys.  Whether the movement is physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual, visual or psychological, it all plays an important role in dictating the road ahead.  

This Saturday was no different.  Thankfully, my teammates cruised to victory in their respective singles matches, and we won a convincing doubles match doubles to clinch an overall league victory for our club.  That was the good news of the day.  Although the match had already been won, I struggled viciously at the number one  position in a loss to a player ranked several levels below me.  There are of course several factors that contributed to my 7-6, 6-4 defeat.  Firstly, to give credit to my opponent, she came out ready for battle and to take full advantage of a possible upset.  Secondly, I was unprepared for the match.  Given the relative ease with which I had won my previous matches, I arrived at the club lacking sleep and the appropriate nourishment to face a more formidable opponent.  With the entire team and many of the club regulars watching, I allowed the pressure to build and failed to keep the whole moment in perspective.  Whereas my recent training has helped me to make great strides in my game, very little evidence of that improvement appeared on the terre battue yesterday.  As insignificant as it may be, the thought of that match is still rather poignant.

All the same, tomorrow is another day. I will shove my racquets in my backpack, lace up my clay-stained sneakers, pop in my headphones filled with the voice of Fresh Air's Terri Gross or Le Masque et la plume's Jérôme Garcin as I walk to the RER A in Vincennes.  On my ride to those same courts that featured Saturday's defeat, I will likely remember the many off-the-mark groundstrokes and double faults that contributed to my lack of success.  Although the match result will remain the same, the thought of stepping back out onto the court quickly transforms my regret and disappointment back into a love of the sport that motivates me to continuing training, day after day. And in the end, while I relish the sparkling feelings of victories, it is the pain, the process of recovery from the losses and the drive for something better that keeps me coming back for more.

Lausanne.Bern.Zurich.

Lausanne

Bern

Zurich

About an hour before the French politics would explode via an alleged scene in a Manhattan hotel, I settled comfortably and safely in my seat on a TGV bound for Lausanne. Suffice it to say that my weekend was much more idyllic and awe-inspiring than the past couple of days in the life of DSK (Dominique Strauss-Kahn), the IMF (International Monetary Fund) and the PS (Parti socialiste) in FR (France).

Meanwhile, in the CH (Confédération Hélvétique, i.e. Switzerland), life and the landscape were beautiful! I arrived at the train station in Lausanne around 21h40 and realized that I had posed very few questions pertaining to the logistics of meeting up with my gracious hosts that evening. Fortunately, my Babolat appendage gave me away and soon after, the three of us hopped in the car, destination: V and T’s apartment.

After a good night’s rest, the morning sun and fresh Swiss air beckoned me outside and down to lac Léman for a gentle Sunday morning run and photo shoot. As has become one of my traveling routines, I laced up my Nike’s and grabbed my camera for a “jog and snap”.

"Lakeside path"

These Sunday and Monday morning outings led me through the park and the sculptures of the Musée Olympique de Lausanne, along the lake, past a castle and a port of sailboats, towards a hillside of Swiss vineyards, all the while, running towards or alongside snow-capped jagged peaks of the Alps.



Post-run and breakfast, V, T and I loaded up in the car for a Sunday drive through the countryside and the aforementioned vineyards.











After stopping along the way to admire the view of the lake, the mountains and the vines, we arrived at our first destination of the day in Gruyères in front of the maison du gruyère.

Gruyères

Gruyères church and landscape

Although we had initially planned to tour the cheese factory, we opted for a short walk through the town towards a little chalet for some ½ ½ fondue, which is made with two different kinds of cheeses, among which, of course, is gruyère. We arrived at the restaurant just in time so as to snag one of the last non-reserved tables in the upstairs room. With the warmth of the atmosphere and the traditional decor of wooden beams, Swiss cowbells and other mountaineering tools hanging in this principal area of the restaurant, it would have seemed completely natural to head out in the snow for an afternoon of skiing and snowboarding.


Instead of heading home after our tour of Gruyères, Thomas suggested a trip up the Funiculaire and the téléphérique up to Moléson, where it had just snowed that morning.





Although the gondola seemed to float through eerie twilight-zone like clouds up to the 2000m peak, a break for tea and coffee at the top provided just enough time for the weather to change, the sky to clear, and the magnificent green valley to reveal itself below.

A year ago to the day, K and I celebrated his birthday with an afternoon in the bleachers at Wrigley Field as the Cubbies managed a come-from-behind win versus the Pittsburgh Pirates. On this Monday, May 16th, an ocean away from my dear birthday boy, Vanessa and I took advantage of her all-Swiss railpass and a generous coupon for an accompanying guest (me) to board a national train to Bern, the capital, en route to Zürich. Although it is rather expensive, the railpass to which both V and T subscribe allows them to travel on all Swiss public transport (local and national) with the flash of a badge. Once we got off the train in the Swiss German-speaking city of Bern, we both handed over a handful of Swiss francs (CHF) for a sandwich (me) and a hotdog (V) on pretzel bread before boarding the tram down to the Bern Bear park. 

Bear Park + view to the north

The Bears' west-facing view of Bern

As we watched the bears sleep and take care of other important tasks assigned to well-cared for animals in captivity, we chatted some about life in Switzerland. Over the course of a discussion about safety in the idyllic CH, I learned of the law that requires every Swiss male over the age of 18 to own a military rifle, which they are trained to use during their period of mandatory military service and subsequent intermittent training sessions.

Clocktower-central Bern

The "capitol" in Bern

V in Bern

After our leisurely stroll through the streets, we re-boarded the train towards Zürich. Minus the bear park, we followed the same course as in Bern and enjoyed the beautiful weather in absolutely picturesque surroundings while strolling around the city, wandering in stores, and enjoying one another’s company. Between and late-afternoon snack of coffee (V) and edamame (me) and a pizza dinner with Thomas, who had business in town, we stopped in for a chocolate sample at a fancy sweets boutique and before entering one of the last shops open on the Bahnhofstrasse. We passed the time until closing by admiring shoes and trying on a few designer dresses that were about 5 multiples outside of my price range. Nonetheless, our game of modeling of the Marc Jacobs fabrics after slipping on some high heels available for the occasion provided a bit amusement for a group of diners below who enjoyed their voyeuristic perspective from the outdoor terrace of an adjacent café.

Zurich Cityscape 

Cathedral (up close)

Post-pizza, the three of us hurried back to the train station to catch the 21h04 back to Lausanne. After a couple hours of chatting, we passed through Neuchâtel where the full moon shining reflected a silver light on the lake and a bordering château made for a brilliant end to a stunningly enjoyable and beautiful week-end.

Before crossing the border on my TGV from Switzerland back into France, the train passed through a wide-open area revealing the rounded, snowy Mont-Blanc and a full horizon lined by the chain of rugged, captivating peaks on either side. A vivid mental snapshot that will not soon fade away...

The view from Voiture 11 place 21

Less than two months remain in my cross-Atlantic journey. This growing sense of imminence has led me to begin thinking about the rapidly diminishing number of days that I have left to explore France before heading back to the States. There is so much I haven’t seen and experienced and that I know will have escaped me once again when I board the plane on July 12. Le Grand Palais. Le Petit Palais. L’Institut du monde arabe. The top of Notre Dame. The top of the Arc de triomphe. Le musée Quai Branly. Just a few of the sites on my list before the end of my séjour. Trips already planned include Lausanne, Marseille, Provence, Aurillac, Lyon and perhaps a wine tasting journey through Bourgogne. Spain will have to wait. As will Bordeaux, île de Ré, les Pyrénées...

From my seat in classe première on the TGV Lyria destined for Lausanne, Switzerland, I watch the little villages fly by between sips of coffee and flipped pages of Les Inrockuptibles. Savoring a bite of roast beef and a mouthful of red wine, I reflect on what gives the French countryside its look that distinguishes it from America. The United States neither lack in beauty nor diversity, and yet... the hills and dales and waterways that flash by my window leave me hungry for more and a lingering feeling of nostalgia immediately after we pass. Nonetheless, as I contemplate the primarily light-colored stone houses and their reddish-brown roofs that crowd around the central church of many a village between Paris and Dijon and on to Lausanne, I am filled with an even greater desire to explore my own country. To fly to various corners of the 48 contiguous, rent a car and explore parks and towns and monuments and histories. I want to read about it all; explore it by bike, on foot, running or walking, in a canoe, a kayak; photograph it; watch sunrises and sunsets as the alter the perception of places already discovered. Each new experience opens the door to a million more; each article and book read makes me excitingly aware of how many more pages await me.

And for all the talk of the future, it is equally fulfilling to savor the present. This afternoon, we arrived at the Tennis de la Faluère for our third team match, this time versus TC Lutèce from the 20th arrondissement.

The sign and a gravel path led us through a tree-shaped tunnel, across the bois de Vincennes’s bicycle loop to a large tennis complex of 21 quick courts in which each set of four courts was partitioned by large, well-manicured fifteen foot hedges. We wound our way through the labyrinth back to courts 20 and 21, the latter being the lone, non-protected court, seemingly added as an afterthought to fill the remaining space. I played in the number one position and easily took care of my match with a 6-0, 6-0 win. The rest of the team followed suit with a three set win at the number two position and relatively decisive wins at the number three and number four positions. We lost the unplayed doubles through a heads or tails coin toss. All this final information came to me via text as I was forced to abandon my teammates mid-match to catch my train to Switzerland.

"Quick", i.e. French hard courts

Anne, in a three-set battle

Dominique, cheering her on

Christelle, taking care of business

Kelly, our fan, and me after my match