Sunday Funday

Ashley and I had a nice little Sunday. In the afternoon, we walked along an old elevated traintrack that's been turned into a park, or rather a promenade: the Promenade Plantée. You can also do this in New York, on the recently opened High Line. I lived a few blocks from the High Line, when the movement to turn it into a park began, but I didn't stay in New York long enough to actually see it happen. One of the models that High Line proponents pointed to was the Promenade. Also known as the Coulée Verte ("Green Corridor"), it stretches from just south of the Bastille opera house to a park on the edge of Paris, 4.5 kilometers away. We made it maybe half that distance before hopping off. My impression of the High Line is that what's striking is the contrast between the elevated strip of green you find yourself on and the ever-present cityscape in the background. ("Studio 360" has a nice audio slideshow of the High Line.) On the Promenade, tall plants and bushes cut you off from the cars, buses and motos that you would otherwise hear, see and smell on the avenue below. At certain points there are openings in the vegetation where you can see down side streets or spot landmarks, like Gare de Lyon, that can orient you. Otherwise, there are no maps or "Vous êtes ici" signs to mark the way. You're lost in a not-so-urban jungle.

From the jungle to a vast, grassy plain: That's where we were Sunday night, along with several hundred (perhaps even a thousand-plus) people. The occasion was Cinema en Plein Air, wherein the city of Paris sets up a film projector on one end of said plain, in the Parc de la Villette, inflates a giant white screen at the other, and invites people to gather in between on blankets and chairs and, once the sun has set, watch a movie. This is also something you can do in the States: Ashley watched films on the Mall in DC, and I saw a few in Bryant Park in New York. Sunday was the last showing of the year in Paris, and it seems that, after some rather serious fare (A Clockwork Orange, Mystery Train, My Own Private Idaho, among others), they decided to end on a feel-good note: Grease. I wasn't sure what the French would think of a film that's so American (Olivia Newton-John notwithstanding). Turns out they love it. They laughed, they clapped, they sang along. They even stood up and danced during the closing number. We were right there along with them, thus feeling, for the second time that day, like we were not quite in Paris.

Here's the one picture I thought to take all day long. The links above have some good photos.


-- MBB