Where Americans and the French live - Paris district shows no signs of ill will
December 26, 2004 - The Star-Ledger
On the fringe of the popular Marais district is the city’s oldest standing building, constructed in 1407 by a man named Nicolas Flamel - 85 years before Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Perhaps this daily reminder of the past is why so few people in the Marais view the recent spat between France and the United States as anything more than a bump on a long road.
Despite rumors, stereotypes and perceptions, finding someone in France who is anti-American or finding an American with a French horror story requires a lot of looking. The reality is that in France, and particularly in the Marais, ire tends to be more focused on President Bush than the Americans (red state or blue) who make it to these shores.
Even at Richard, a three-person silversmith shop that seems as lost in time as Flamel’s building, they agree that their part of town is Paris’ biggest cultural crossroads.
“It’s like a melting pot here - a complete mix of people,” says employee Jean-Pierre Cottet, who then reels off a list of nationalities and religions of the district’s inhabitants.
“The journalists and politicians are making up this anti-Americanism,” says Francis Regala, the owner of Richard. “If people were poorly welcomed, then they wouldn’t come here.
“There are lots of Americans who come to live in the Marais,” adds Regala, who then points upward across the courtyard to the windows of two American families. NO SWAMP ’ What started out as a swamp (how “marais” translates) on the Right Bank of Paris, is now one of Paris’ best-known areas. Made up of the 3rd and 4th arrondisse ments (the geographic subdivisions of Paris) the Marais became a home to royalty in the 12th century, before going through a particularly murky 17th century. It was revitalized during the 19th century and got a huge lift from a 1962 law protecting historic French city centers.
What’s left are narrow zigzagging streets perfectly suited for arm-in-arm strolls to look at the architecture or visit its many museums and stores, bars and restaurants. The district, well-known for being one of the most tolerant in Paris, hosts large populations of Jews, gays and many other groups, including Americans. WHY THEY COME Cottet cites reasons why Americans (and others) come to the Marais, ranging from those who enjoy its postcard quality to those who want a vision of Paris different from other less “all-in-one” parts of town.
“The Americans who come to the Marais are people who are looking for unique stuff, not department stores,” Cottet says. “It’s more interesting here, more personal.”
Around the corner from Richard is one such place: Le Taxi Jaune (The Yellow Taxi), a restaurant run by chef/owner Otis Lebert. Other than a curious looking dinner theater a few doors down, Le Taxi Jaune is the only restaurant on the residential Rue Chapon and the kind of cozy place locals keep to themselves and visitors are delighted to find.
Most of Lebert’s entrées run just south of 15 euros ($20 U.S.), which, compared with what you can get for the same price in Paris, is a great value.
This might explain why, contrary to an overall downturn in American (and overall) tourism in France since late 2000, Lebert says he has seen more American customers the past few years.
“Americans are surprised to find this sort of small town-, small business-style service here,” he says.
The Americans who live here also seem to share the political ideals of those in the left-leaning Marais. To generalize, while the Americans here might not be wild about French President Jacques Chirac, they politically lean closer to the average Frenchman than George W. Bush.
And they aren’t shy about it.
When the French in February 2003 protested the threat of war in Iraq, many Americans were in the crowd. And it was much easier before the election to find a rally here for Sen. John Kerry than for Bush - a fact noticed and appreciated by Parisians.
Likewise, if an American tourist visits France, the French appreciate their curiosity.
“The Americans who come here are cultivated and they know French and European history very well,” says Frederic Chesneau, who runs L’Atelier de Fred, a cooking school in the Marais whose six seats are filled with students just about every time he opens the door.
A 10-year veteran of event planning in the often-incestuous French film industry, Chesneau gave it all up to do what he loves, which may be why L’Atelier is so well appreciated by Americans taking his courses.
“They’re very open and don’t fit with the stereotypes the French can have about Americans,” he says with a grin. NO PROBLEM Chesneau calls the Marais a “point of convergence.”
“It doesn’t matter where you’re staying in Paris, you’ll end up here,” he says.
And what about the Americans living in the Marais?
No problem.
“I wouldn’t say I was nervous when I moved to the Marais a few months ago, but I certainly wondered how French people would react when they found out I was American,” says Robert Anselmi, who came from his native New York to teach English to French schoolchildren.
“I haven’t encountered any animosity - they really don’t say much about it.”
Instead, Anselmi is full of recent anecdotes about his pupils’ fascination with all things American.
“The Marais is a very diverse neighborhood,” he says, also naming neighbors of many nationalities. “I don’t feel like I’ve noticed any tension over this.”
Even veterans of the Marais agree.
Katherine Kaess, an American interior designer on both sides of the pond who has lived in a Marais apartment for all of her eight years in Paris, says she has never had problems because of her nationality. She also says she has trouble imagining living anywhere else.
“I love the striking cultural contrasts you see here - Hasidic Jews walk past Arab grocers and nobody blinks,” she says.
Joe Ray is a freelance writer who lives in Paris.
