Tomorrow's the big day. My first day of classes at Le Cordon Bleu Paris. It's actually orientation day, so I'll get my uniform, equipment, schedule, etc. I was full of nervous energy today and cleaned the whole apartment. I'm not talking about a general Sunday cleaning, I'm talking about wiping light switches and under every conceivable surface, book, vase, shoe, and everything in between. You all know what I mean - I'm sure everyone has experienced this kind of instant-gratification-seeking cleaning frenzy before a big day.
On my mind is something more than just my first day of culinary school, however. I've also been thinking about where this blog is headed. Even though it's been successful at presenting my gushy, lovely, fluffy, and marshmellowy feelings about my first weeks in Paris, it's going to get more down-and-dirty. My sister, who has always been the person who gives me the best constructive criticism, told me that it was all fine and dandy to talk about hot chocolate at Les Deux Magots in St Germain, but that I needed to get to deeper anthropological stuff. She threw a good idea at me, and said: "what came first: the chicken, or the egg. Did cafe culture influence intellectuals, or did intellectuals influence cafe culture."
You may remember my reference to how Les Deux Magots was a favorite hang-out for Picasso, Hemingway, Sartre, among others. Cafes like these seem to have always encouraged stimulating conversations. They're cozy, and they're the best places to people-watch. Most Parisian cafes are strategically located at corners of intersections, and tables and chairs are placed facing the sidewalks and streets.
It seems that every time we go to one of these cafes, something happens that reminds me that cafe culture is sacred, and important things happen there. Movements are created, proposals are made, and there is more than just coffee brewing in the kitchen.
One day, the three of us were sitting at our table, and noticed a woman sitting at the table next to ours. She was not French, nor British, nor was she from the US. She was speaking loudly into her telephone and I'm proud to say my toddler was behaving better than she was. She was annoying and loud. The French gentleman next to her, who had a sophisticated aura about him and was an obvious regular, looked up from his Le Monde and yelled to her in French about how rude and uneducated she was. How dare she speak so loudly on a cellular phone at a cafe? He was angry, very angry. And even though his reaction was a bit extreme, I had to agree with him. She was disturbing the thinking caps and brainstorming waves that fly around Les Deux Magots.
Another visit to Les Deux Magots was just as enthralling. We sat next to a table of what looked like very wise, older intellectuals. They were speaking a mixture of French and Hebrew, and I imagined they were part of some kind of philosophical society, meeting to discuss this week's theory. A woman joined them at one point, and she seemed to mesmerize the other gentlemen with her take on the conversation. Other men joined the group, and all it took was for their comrades to pull up yet another chair to participate in the conversation. It was like being transported to the time of the existentialist movement and its birth at Les Deux Magots. I could totally picture it.
When we're in the US, where there is not a cafe culture (other than in perhaps NYC and a few other places), my husband yearns for them. [I'd like to pause and make a distinction between cafe culture European style, and Starbucks. It ain't the same thing.] In most of Europe and definitely Eastern Europe as well, you can sit and have a cup of coffee and people watch all year round. Even in frigid winters, space heaters and plastic tarps help cafe culture survive the dead of winter. It seems that here, people look forward to going to the cafe - it is where business meetings take place, where lovers meet, friends catch-up, writers write, thinkers think, and where people seem to create their own sacred, protected space but in the presence of others.
So back to my original question: Do cafes lead to intellect and creativity, or do intellect and creativity lead to cafes?
If you've read this far into this entry, then you probably care about what I'm talking about. If so, please tell me what you think.
P.S. Don't worry - I'll continue to include fluffy, pretty, gushy entries about my life in Paris.
On my mind is something more than just my first day of culinary school, however. I've also been thinking about where this blog is headed. Even though it's been successful at presenting my gushy, lovely, fluffy, and marshmellowy feelings about my first weeks in Paris, it's going to get more down-and-dirty. My sister, who has always been the person who gives me the best constructive criticism, told me that it was all fine and dandy to talk about hot chocolate at Les Deux Magots in St Germain, but that I needed to get to deeper anthropological stuff. She threw a good idea at me, and said: "what came first: the chicken, or the egg. Did cafe culture influence intellectuals, or did intellectuals influence cafe culture."
You may remember my reference to how Les Deux Magots was a favorite hang-out for Picasso, Hemingway, Sartre, among others. Cafes like these seem to have always encouraged stimulating conversations. They're cozy, and they're the best places to people-watch. Most Parisian cafes are strategically located at corners of intersections, and tables and chairs are placed facing the sidewalks and streets.
It seems that every time we go to one of these cafes, something happens that reminds me that cafe culture is sacred, and important things happen there. Movements are created, proposals are made, and there is more than just coffee brewing in the kitchen.
One day, the three of us were sitting at our table, and noticed a woman sitting at the table next to ours. She was not French, nor British, nor was she from the US. She was speaking loudly into her telephone and I'm proud to say my toddler was behaving better than she was. She was annoying and loud. The French gentleman next to her, who had a sophisticated aura about him and was an obvious regular, looked up from his Le Monde and yelled to her in French about how rude and uneducated she was. How dare she speak so loudly on a cellular phone at a cafe? He was angry, very angry. And even though his reaction was a bit extreme, I had to agree with him. She was disturbing the thinking caps and brainstorming waves that fly around Les Deux Magots.
Another visit to Les Deux Magots was just as enthralling. We sat next to a table of what looked like very wise, older intellectuals. They were speaking a mixture of French and Hebrew, and I imagined they were part of some kind of philosophical society, meeting to discuss this week's theory. A woman joined them at one point, and she seemed to mesmerize the other gentlemen with her take on the conversation. Other men joined the group, and all it took was for their comrades to pull up yet another chair to participate in the conversation. It was like being transported to the time of the existentialist movement and its birth at Les Deux Magots. I could totally picture it.
When we're in the US, where there is not a cafe culture (other than in perhaps NYC and a few other places), my husband yearns for them. [I'd like to pause and make a distinction between cafe culture European style, and Starbucks. It ain't the same thing.] In most of Europe and definitely Eastern Europe as well, you can sit and have a cup of coffee and people watch all year round. Even in frigid winters, space heaters and plastic tarps help cafe culture survive the dead of winter. It seems that here, people look forward to going to the cafe - it is where business meetings take place, where lovers meet, friends catch-up, writers write, thinkers think, and where people seem to create their own sacred, protected space but in the presence of others.
So back to my original question: Do cafes lead to intellect and creativity, or do intellect and creativity lead to cafes?
If you've read this far into this entry, then you probably care about what I'm talking about. If so, please tell me what you think.
credit where credit is due: my husband also clamored for more "anthropological" blog entries!
ReplyDeleteas for cafe culture: it's hard to imagine Paris without it. what i especially admire is that it has survived seemingly intact, despite the hordes of tourists, the faster pace of modern life, the more individualistic western culture that seems not to hold communal discussions in as high regard.... i suppose there really is nothing like a good drink (coffee, hot chocolate, wine) to put people at ease and inspire meditation and conversation.
I agree. We noted that Parisians, and maybe Europeans in general, seem to be far more interested in being around other people than those in the US, for example, where people tend to go from their car, into the Starbucks, grab their coffee to-go, and back out the door to their car. Space is limited in a city like Paris. The tables at these cafes are usually tiny and the chairs are as well. Strangers are forced to sit right next to each other, and conversations are overheard. It's a different, far "closer" concept of community. This proximity encourages conversation and sharing. You're right - there's no sign of it disappearing here.
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