Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Today: Massy-Palaiseau through Saint Remy les Chevreuse, maybe Port Royal on the way back.

I take the Metro to Denfert and see that I can wait for the “Direct” to Saint Remy les Chevreuse, or take the milk train (sitting at the platform for just 60 seconds) to Massy and wait for the direct to catch up to me. I take the milk train. The stop in each station gives me an opportunity to look around from the train. I am on KARI and the eastbound is EPAF.

I am now of the impression that “au but de ligne” is going to be one hour no matter where I go. Yesterday was 30 minutes Montereau to Melun, then 30 minutes direct Melun to Gare de Lyon.

We arrive at Massy-Palaiseau and we all get off the train; I turn to see the Direct gliding into the station. Less than 60 seconds after we arrive, I am sitting in the Direct, and we head off to Saint Remy les Chevreuse.

We pass through all the stations ...-sur-Yvette. What's not to love about Yvette?

Another conclusion: any station that boasts, say, 2 or more bus stops will have shops, cafes etc close by. Stations with no obvious bus terminals are dormitory towns, in isolation.

If I wanted I could hop a bus to Trappes-La Verriere!

Saint Remy les Chevreuse, like Montereau, boasts a Bureau de Tourisme and so I chat up, yet again, a nice lady, who provides me with a street map. I walk around the corner and fall into the covered market. Today is market-day. Quelle Chance!

As usual I walk around listening to the chatter and strike up a conversation with a Little Old Lady who, it turns out, speaks Spanish. She is delighted to hear that this year I'm taking Spanish and next year will spend a week in Madrid. She is FROM Madrid! Quelle Chance! “Such a nice young man!!”

I buy five cooked shrimps (protein), 100g of cheese that isn't Ementhal but is like Ementhal, and a bunch of grapes le plus sucre qu'existe. I chat with each vendeur, of course.

The pickles man has more than twenty (we counted them) flavors of olives. In Toronto we have “black” and “green”.

The butcher explains that Genesse (if I got that right)(Later: probasbly “jeunesse”) is midway between veal and cow, whatever. There is but one liver on display, and it measures about fifteen inches by twelve. It is HUGE!

I wander across the park, a small bridge, and take photos of the canal as a gag, “The mighty Yvette” I will title them. Then I realize I'm walking up a slight slope, at right angles away from the stream. I turn to ask a young mother, who assures me that yes, this IS the Yvette, but that it is much bigger downstream by, say Orsay. Orsay is on my way home.

Most of the small shops are closed – pastries, butcher etc presumably because it is market day.

The local church is expanding; in fact it is rationalizing, squashing eight churches into two, the savings in costs …! The local church will in effect be rotated ninety degrees by the extension; what would have been the north transept, had it existed, will become the east end. And they that were south shall be west. I interpreted the many coloured schematics.

I buy a coffee, and with my lunch/supper, that comes to €10. (I end up €2 for another coffee later on).

My train east is EPAU and leaves in ten minutes. I sit near the front so I can catch sight of buses, if any, in time to descend.

Which I do at Bures sur Yvette. Large notices tell me that improvements are in train, as we say in Perth. I think “What's to improve? This sleepy little hamlet is served by trains to Paris every 13 minutes; at midday. I just checked with two people sitting behind me in this cafe.

Incroyable!

I stroll past the patisserie and stop to ask if the Yvette is down the hill. (Of COURSE it is); the owner warns me that my shoulder bag is open; I tell him there's nothing valuable in there; he asks where I keep my papers, money, so I point to my belly and show him my sac-cache. He is very impressed. As is the other gentleman who was out of sight until I semi-undressed myself!

First thing I see when I get off the train is the library, or Mediatheque as they are now known. Like every library I've stumbled across, this one is closed, but only until 2 p.m., so I decide to outsmart it by wandering down, Down, DOWN the hill to the mighty Yvette. I figure it must be bigger than it was upstream at Saint Remy les Chevreuse, but it still looks like a sluggish canal.

A local guy my age stops to chat and tells a jest, the gist of which is some street in Gobelins, the making of beer, the Yvette and effluence. I get the joke and laugh, much to his surprise. In Australia we have the same joke about every river in every town and city that makes beer. Especially Brisbane in Queensland.

I have developed another signal to motorists who wave me across the street – I dangle my camera and smile; the driver usually laughs and waves; they get the picture!

Back up the hill to the library. The librarian tells me that this library is not in a network, but next year it will be, then interlibrary loans will be available throughout the canton of Chevreuse, or possibly the arrondisement of Ramboulliet, if not the department of Yvelines. Also that this building will be demolished – destroyed I think she said – to make way for a new fire hall, and the librarians will get a new building by way of compensation. So what's new?

The fiction collections are separate for children and adults, but the large reference section is mixed. Seems like a good idea to me; throw the little curious ones in the deep end and let 'em grab whatever keeps them afloat.

I take the train (every 13 minutes!) one stop to Orsay-Ville where, in Saint Remy les Chevreuse, I was told the Yvette is significantly bigger. Down the valley again and yes, the Yvette is bigger. It has a TWO-arch bridge, and whiteness of waves on the water.

Or maybe the stream bed is just a bit steeper here.

A steady stream of university students streams (well!) past me as I stare at what is still only a stream IMHO. This University is BIG and spans two stations of the RER, is set in a botanic garden, and has two bus routes (from this railway station) that serve just the campus. I rode around on #6, but could have gone around a different part of the university on #7.

As I walk back up the hill I watch the train pull away, I have missed it by one minute. That means, heh heh, I'll have to wait 12 minutes for the next one! Which is EPIN.

Another beggar walks through the train with a spiel in French: I am a refugee, I have two brothers to look after, nowhere to live, no job, …

I am going to create a response in Australian which will include phrases like “jeez yer drongo!” and “she'll be apps” and “argus” and the like, then I can shatter the silence with apparent gibberish that no-one will understand. Unless there happens to be a compatriot in the carriage, and what an eye-opener THAT will be for the beggar and all the other passengers. Worth a try.

More on the RER. There are two branches here in the south (B2 & B4) and there are two branches in the north (B3 and B5). On my branch (B4) there is a train every, say, 15 minutes towards Paris, but at this time of day, trains alternate towards CDG (B3) and Mitry (B5), so if you want to go to the end of the line at Mitry, you'll need to wait (say) 30 minutes for a train. Or maybe take the next train into Paris and see if there is a peak-hour train that starts in Paris and gets you there sooner; much like my trip to Montereau yesterday morning.

And this is an RER line, not an SNCF or shared or freight or whatever. The only trains I see in either direction are RER assemblies, not a mixture of double-decker trains, SNCF trains etc. Just RER confections.

We run non-stop every now and then once we have reached Massy-Palaiseau; we skip 3 stations, stop at the next, skip 2, stop, skip 3 etc, but this doesn't seem to make us much faster because we seem to be crawling along, possibly behind the preceding milk train.

I hop off at Port Royal and walk east along Boulevard Port Royal then north up Rue St Jacques past Anne's place, I think, to Rue Soufflot, then push my way onto a #27 bus that takes me through Place d'Italie and my local Metro line (6) and on to Port d'Ivry where I hop off and walk parallel to the Tram, east, almost to Port Doree, grab the Tram for two stops, hop off and get the (8) line two stops to Daumesnil and home.

On the platform at Massy, only 60 seconds to snap this before my next train arrives.

Massy-Palaiseau is not a small station. Three RER lines confabulate here. Several platforms over another RER train is going about its business.

This RER carriage is designed for folks who bicycle to and from the stations.

This is the no-nonsense no-seating area for bicycles.

This RER carriage is designed for folks who lug luggage to and from the stations.

I have no idea where folks with bikes AND bags go.

Right outside the station at Saint Remy-Les-Chevreuse is the tourist office; these folks could teach the guys in Provins a thing or three about location, Location, LOCATION. After all, it’s the same word in English, French and Spanish.

If the tourist office is closed there’s always the district map right alongside.

And what’s more, a café designed for Australian tourists.

This end-panel (just above my time-stamp) of the bus shelter is so clean that, after reading the timetables, I almost walked into the glass panel.

Saint Remy les Chevreuse is set in a valley, as are so many of the towns I visit. Perhaps the railways run along the rivers which, of course, run along the valleys!

There is the usual church tower as a landmark.

And so into town to look for something to eat.

In real life the berries matched my bag.

A look back at the station.

I am in luck! It is market day. The market is held in a new building.

A few stalls sit outside; I suspect that they pay less rent.

Truth is any single outside stall would satisfy my appetite, but the real treasures lie inside. Four or more of every type of stall.

I buy shrimp, cheese and grapes and make my way outside. This is the Little Old Spanish Lady who chatted me up at the fish stall.

And here it is, the mighty Yvette of map and legend. Despite this let-down, almost. I'm really very glad to be here after all these months.

A view upstream of the Yvette.

(Movie) The Yvette at Saint-Remy-les-Chevreuse

A shallow stream, with a soft current. No canoeing here, through.

It has a flag, and it could be a town hall if it were not for the large tree in front of it. Town Halls don't have things obstructing their view.

How I love these streets that lead uphill to who-knows-what.

Now I know what Rambouillet and Palaiseau look like, and how to get there.

I think that the butcher's is closed because the market sports at least three butcher's stalls.

Same deal for the bakery.

How many “Av. du General Leclerc's are there in France? Count the number of towns in France.

I could go by bus from here to Trappes-La Verriere!

Every 10 to 30 minutes until 9:40, then once an hour. I can manage that on vacation.

Up the hill I go, looking back at the little church.

Or else I'm walking towards it.

Another glimpse of the Yvette.

A war memorial with what might be an original metal helmet from The Great War.

The current church building is outlined in black, with the east-end at the top. The new model will have the east end to the left.

A stained-glass window makes a lovely pattern on the aisle.

And here is the window that made that pattern.

How delightful to see and smell the cows grazing in the field next to the station.

The bus routes that originate from Saint Remy les Chevreuse. What a choice!

And here I am waiting for the train to take me to the next little town. And to think that I thought I would have to WALK to the next little town. The train is due to depart at 13:24. Nine seconds later and the door chime has sounded.

The doors have closed.

And we are in motion.

A few minutes later I am off the train and walking along the platform at Bures-sur-Yvette.

Bye bye train!

The yellow lights on the notice board mark stations that will be served by the next train.

The cluster of station names near the bottom-left corner are the RER stations in Paris served by this RER line “B4”.

I couldn’t resist a photo of just the name plate.

But look how clean the station surrounds are. No Tim Horton’s coffee cups, ...

Trains back to Paris every fifteen minutes.

I can walk and then hop on a train to the next station ...

Improvements are in train, in a manner of speaking.

The powers that be are going to improve a service that runs every fifteen minutes, both directions, middle of the day, out in the boonies!

We'll just add more platforms for more trains.

It's as easy as that.

Of course the library is closed, par for the course, but I have a cunning plan.

I will wander THIS town UNTIL two o'clock.

This scene is now familiar to me; the typical main street.

The sky is overcast, but there is no threat of rain.

I took a coffee here.

The establishment starts in the foreground, carries on through the old covered verandah, and extends the entire length of the original building (which sports five green-shaded windows).

I will walk down the hill to look at the Yvette here in Bures. It's a long way down.

Here is “up”; I am only partway down.

Flattening out; I must be close to the Yvette by now.

Here it is, with a brave little current, looking a tad stronger than in Saint Remy les Chevreuse.

The Yvette is still only a stream; it tunnels through overgrowth(!)

(Movie) The Yvette at Orsay-Sur-Yvette

In places it is still little more than a drainage ditch.

Two bus routes serve THIS PART of the campus of the university of Paris-Sud.

One route would take me to Corbeville.

Three or four times an hour; hourly in the middle of the day.

Another view of the valley wall.

Then it is time to trek back up my side of the valley.

And take a look back at where we have been.

It's not a bibliotheque any more; it's gone MEDIA!

I took a photo of this for my buddy Shane.

So this sweet building will be bulldozed. Sigh!

And so back to the station.

I missed the train by 2 minutes; I must now wait 13 minutes for the next one.

I love this!

Many stations are built on a curve. This is great country to learn how to say “Mind the gap” in English, Spanish, German and Italian.

Short trains are shorter than long ones. These signs warn you not to stray too far down the platform.

The trains are flagged as “short” or “long” on the electronic departure signs.

Mid-afternoon and it's still only 15 minutes between trains; both directions. Why run a car?

I walk almost to the far end of the platform and look back towards the station building. These are long platforms, built for long trains.

Same shot, but zoomed.

Not five minutes later I am further downstream at Orsay-Sur-Yvette and already walking down hill to the creek. The tourist lady in Saint Remy les Chevreuse told me that the Yvette was much more impressive in Orsay.

Number seven! That rings a bell.

The lady in Saint Remy les Chevreuse was right. This bridge needs two arches to span the stream. A tiny bit of the centre piece peeks from behind the left-hand side of the shrub.

White-Water! It's a torrent, that's what it is.

I decide to take a bus tour of the campus. Neat-oh!

There are serious on-the-spot fines for NOT validating your ticket, be it paper or electronic.

I have no idea what an infraction of the fourth order is, but I think that if they have to open a file on you, you lose an extra €38 (about $60)

As the TTC bus drivers say “Just think of the paper-work!”.

My bus tour took in the large rectangle. The station is marked with a small rectangle.

I wander back up the hill looking for the station. Catenary wires are always an encouraging sign.

The leaves are beginning to fall, but I think these leaves are falling from heat stress over the past few weeks, rather than the approaching regular seasonal chill.

Man! I love this system.

We skip a few stations along the way into town.

Note near the bottom-left corner of the screen all the stations IN Paris are grouped together. If you happen to live or work near an RER station, it's a superbly fast way to get around town.

Hah! I have just invented a secure zip-fastener. The little metal slider tag has come adrift from the zipper. I carefully replace the tag in the slider, zip up my bag, then remove the tag and drop it in the side-pocket of the bag. It's just an extra step a would-be pick-pocket would have to take to discover that my bag contains a bottle of water, a beige coat, and a half-eaten baguette.

On the platform at Orsay-Ville waiting for the Paris train.

The out-of-Paris train pulls in.

This is a familiar sight to me.

Here is where Anne lived, and I was often enough visiting her, arriving at Port Royal after my day's work out of town. Or across-town.

Boulevard Port-Royal, with dedicated bus lanes. The van is some sort of special service, like firemen. Or staff.

The bus lanes are bi-directional.

A clearer view of the bus lanes, void of traffic.

The car lanes are bi-directional. The little white van is heading East, the grey car is heading West along Boulevard Port Royal.

And here I am on Rue St Jacques. Turn left to visit Anne; turn right to walk to Spain.

I forget her building; this could have been it.

Val de Grace; This building's gold leaf looked magnificent as the setting sun hit it full-on.

Val de Grace; This building's gold leaf looked magnificent as the setting sun hit it full-on.

The familiar sight of chimneys for the Paris skyline.

It is hard to see, but Tour St Jacques is visible away in the distance.

A little easier to see in this zoom shot.

Just for a minute there I thought we'd lost Wales AND Scotland!

I found this a strange sight. Peak-hour. A wide boulevard. Empty of traffic.

Here I am heading part of the way home on foot past Maryse Bastie stop on the Tram line.

Up and over a peaceful bridge.

My two landmark chimneys, visible from trains out of Gare de Lyons and Gare d’Austerlitz.

This shot is looking across the eastern side of the rail yards.

The peripherique crosses the western part of these rail yards. These yards are essentially for passenger traffic, and they are huge.

There is a train in here somewhere; I remember wondering whether its movement would cause a blur.

What is remarkable about this scene?

There are no buttons to activate the pedestrian lights.

The pedestrian lights WILL go green, automatically.

Paris seems to place more stress on foot-traffic than does Toronto.

I stopped to take this shot of the Seine looking upstream and a barge cheekily poked its nose into my composition.

The barge is still under way (note the bow wave) and is heading for the concrete quay.

(Movie) 1- The barge pulling in at Boulevards des Marechaux

(Movie) 2- The barge pulling in at Boulevards des Marechaux

As far as I can tell, the man in the orange shirt is the only guy on board. He has judged the speed, drift and angle perfectly and he is about to reach into the quay wall and grab a hawser.

The hawser goes over a bow bollard.

Another hawser should make it safe.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch ... the stern continues to drift towards the quay.

Our hero starts his walk to the stern, which has not completed its drift sideways. Yet.

But it does, and our hero ties up the stern.

Now there may have been a second guy in the cab, but our hero ducked into the cab for an instant – about enough time to throw a lever into neutral and turn off an ignition key – before tying-up the stern.

I think this is a great example of how good you can get at doing something when you do it for a living, every day.

OK. Enough walking. Here I am waiting for an eastbound Tram to pull in while a westbound unloads and loads passengers.

These seven-car trains are quiet, both inside and out.

The lady has just hopped off the westbound train and used the crosswalk to get to the eastbound platform.

Does she continue across the road? No. Her pedestrian lights have just gone red.

Does she wait for them to turn green?

No. There is a second pedestrian crossing serving this Tram stop; she will use the interval to carry on westward and complete her crossing at the second set of lights where the cars are just beginning to pass through heading eastwards..

How clever is that?

Trams run every six minutes after peak-hour.

I hop off at Daumesnil and am given a shot of homesickness.