We’re giving hugs again, gathering around tables with friends, and some people are even planning summer travels. We are “learning to human again.”
I purchased my little aloe plant in fall 2020, when COVID cases were on the rise in the U.S. Tending to my house plants distracted me from the scariness. Months later, I can’t help but smile every time this scrawny pandemic plant catches my eye. He is thriving but on his own terms. This aloe refuses to grow straight. I have gently tried to rectify this countless times. Quietly, yet firmly I have encouraged him to “Stand tall. Reach for the light.”
But this charming aloe is a pandemic plant. He is comfortable hanging over the edge of his terra cotta home. Good posture doesn’t matter to him. He languishes. He is twisted and a little gnarly. I have come to admire his commitment to growing crookedly.
I, too, have carved a twisty path in the last year. Though I have not lost any loved ones, I have dealt with disenfranchised grief—the unnamable sadness that accumulates with continued disappointment and “small” losses. Travel, weddings, family meals. I have felt guilty for feeling sad. What business do I have grieving when I’ve suffered so little compared to others?
As I “learn to human” again, I like to think that my aloe is “learning to plant” again. I have an affinity for his hunched nature. Standing tall is not necessarily easy. Getting out into the world after more than a year of isolation is odd. We are both off-kilter right now, but as the time is right, we are branching out.
Forsythias dotted my early pandemic walks. Against a still-grey landscape, the vibrant flowers announced spring. Hope was elusive as the coronavirus emerged, and seeing the forsythias in bloom gave me brief moments of respite.
Could you ever imagine being able to circumnavigate the city of Paris much like the 16th century explorer Magellan circumnavigated the Earth? Back in the late 19th century, such a form of transportation was made possible through the construction of the Petite Ceinture during the era of the Second Empire in France. In English, it translates to “little belt”, a connotation which rather undersells the immense scope and importance that this railway network possessed.
This massive architectural wonder hides many secrets within its walls. Located in the Fifth Arondissement, the Mosque is constructed in the Moorish style, as seen by its arches, courtyards, intricate tiling, and lush gardens. The towering minaret reminds onlookers that the Parisian skyline boasts more than cathedral spires and the Eiffel tower. While impressive from the exterior, the true beauty of this structure lies within. The interior is linked by open-air courtyards surrounding a botanical garden and a bubbling fountain. La Grande Mosquée de Paris offers something for everyone: a school, library, restaurant, tearoom, prayer room, and bathhouse are all found within its walls. However, the Mosque’s worth extends beyond its physical features.
In the 12th arrondissement of Paris exists a colorful and refreshing line of English styled cottages. This line of 35 residential and private houses is located on the famous Rue Crémieux; named after Jewish lawyer and advocate for human rights, Adolphe Crémieux. Avid users of social media are very familiar with this pastel painted street as it is known as, “Instagram’s most favorite street”. With one search, #RueCremieux will locate 31,000 images that have this hashtag. Proof, this enchanting stretch of houses has captured the attention of many and has served as the perfect backdrop for an Instagram post.
Villa Léandre Road, located in Paris’ 18th arrondissement, sits amidst the bustling hilltop attraction that is Montmartre. Villa Léandre is a relic of the past, as is exemplified by the homey air that its Art Deco style maintains. Renamed in 1936 after the comedian Charles Léandre, the street embodies a bygone era, the Paris of 100 years past. Though Paris and even Montmartre itself have continued to urbanize, Villa Léandre has stayed true to the style of arts décoratifs that originated in France and developed during the 1920’s.
Taking its name from the powerful Medici family of Florence, Italy, la fontaine Médicis is a hidden gem nestled in the popular Luxembourg gardens in Paris. Marie de Medici (1575 – 1642), who was the widow of King Henri IV of France, found herself weary of living in the Louvre after her husband’s death. She decided to have her own palace, Palais des Médicis, constructed (~1623 – 30) on the left bank of the Seine. Feeling nostalgic for the style of the Palazzo Pitti and Boboli Gardens in her hometown of Florence, she commissioned both her palace and its surrounding gardens to be modeled on this same Italian Renaissance style.
However, much of the original design has been changed or replaced in a number of reconstructions over the years. These include the change in form from grotto to fountain along with other modifications in 1799 by the celebrated Jean Chalgrin (1739 – 1811), architect of the Arc de Triomphe. The most notable changes took place later, between 1864 – 66, when the fountain was moved about 30 meters to its current location in the Luxembourg gardens due to the construction of la rue Médicis. There, the fountain was extensively rebuilt into the version we see today. This final construction was based on the designs of Alphonse de Gisors (1796 – 1861), with sculptures by Auguste Ottin (1811 – 90), and contains a number of decorative elements.
include a central niche featuring Ottin’s statue of Acis holding Galatea, the two lying together under a rock on top of which is perched Polyphemus, ready to launch the stone fated to kill his rival*. The side niches are decorated with a statue of a faun (probably Pan) and a huntress (probably Diana). Because the fountain no longer had a “back” once it was moved to its current location, a large bas-relief by Achille Valois (1785 – 1862), featuring Leda with Jupiter transformed into a swan**, was moved from another salvaged fountain (originally at the intersection of the rue du Regard and the rue de Vaugirard) and placed on the new back wall for the Medici fountain.
You’re strolling on a Sunday afternoon through the 14th arrondissement. As you pass by Pharmacie Didot-Pernety, you make a turn and enter another world. This stretch of plant-adorned, pastel-painted, bicycle-embellished cobblestone is so far from the grime-covered, metro-lined, Seine-smelling city you left behind. You have discovered the paysan within Paris. Welcome to the Rue des Thermopyles.
In spring 2020, my students and I embarked on an exploration of the City of Lights in our Unlocking Paris class. Each student investigated an aspect of Paris that might not be known to the typical tourist–artistic movements, architecture, and monuments. They then composed blog posts dedicated to their subject, went through peer editing, and finally revisions. Over the next month, I will feature their insightful, lively work on Creative Sanctuary. Our hope is to share beautiful Paris with our readers. I launch the series with my post on Paris’ Covered Passages.