Those of you who visit my photostream may have noticed a new arrival yesterday evening: her name is Patches and she’s a 9-year-old domestic shorthair calico cat. Her owners had come to Nice with her from the US last year, planning to return this year. Unfortunately, as for so many other people, the economy isn’t providing enough opportunities to ensure that they and Patches would have a home back in the US. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t find any shelters here to take in Patches, and veterinarians charge a daily holding rate for animals left in their keeping. They asked me if I knew of any other associations or shelters, who were either full or didn’t answer the phone… It’s very hard at the end of July and beginning of August, because it’s French vacation season, and unfortunately that means a spike in pet abandonments, which translates into shelters filled to capacity. So I offered to take in Patches. (I want to be very clear, knowing how often judgement can be passed on people who are forced by circumstances to rehome their beloved pets: it was obvious from her owners’ emails and from meeting them in real life, that they love their cat very much and that they did everything they could for her. The economy hasn’t been kind to anyone. Well, except perhaps to dishonest financiers.)

Patches arrived Tuesday evening, with her owners, whom it was a real pleasure to meet, and has been hiding ever since. First in the kitchen, then under the bedroom chest of drawers, and now under the bed. This is pretty typical of cats who’ve changed homes! I’ve only taken this one photo of her, since it’s best for her to feel as safe and comfortable as possible. Kanoko and Grey have been very good, giving her space and being gently curious, but when I noticed that Patches still wouldn’t budge from under the bed this evening, I shut them out of the bedroom and let her have it (with a bowl of food and her litterbox) all to herself for a few hours. I plan to do the same while I’m at work tomorrow, hoping that she’ll feel more at ease that way.

Hopefully things will work out for the best for Patches’ owners, and who knows, in a few months we may be able to get Patches back to them. I have an idea what it’s like, having gone through my previous cat Malo being given away without my knowledge to someone I didn’t know. I made peace with him having a new home eventually, but was nonetheless overjoyed when several months later, his new owner decided she couldn’t care for him any more and demanded that I take him back. She didn’t have any experience with cats before Malo, however — I’ve had cats all my life, am very happy to bring in a third furball, and whatever happens, Patches will be cuddled and pampered along with my two boys Kanoko and Grey, for as long she stays with us.

My last few weekends have been spent taking off wheels, pulling off old tires, scrubbing rubber and rust off rims, getting new rim tape put on, cleaning and oiling the derailleur and chain, then figuring out the old Simplex derailleur and adjusting it so it now shifts properly (the cable was a tad slack and one limit stop was too tight, which prevented shifting into the lowest gear). As always, the bike shop I’ve gone to for nearly five years now, Vélo Concept on boulevard Raimbaldi in Nice (if the Flash entrance doesn’t work, try this link instead), has been great. They gave my bike a quick look-over three weeks ago, pointing out a few things I hadn’t noticed, and yesterday they kindly put on new rim tape for me, for the same price as buying rim tape would have cost (plus, I wouldn’t have been able to put it on as well as they did).

Although my bike still needs a few more repairs — new brake and derailleur cables, as well as new brake pads — they’re not urgent. The 30-year-old Simplex derailleur works like a charm. I still remember the old lever shifter on the road bike I used twenty-odd years ago. It was a royal pain since it was very finicky. A millimeter off and it would throw a fit — with so little tolerance, it would often drift into a different speed while you were pedalling. While I haven’t yet tested my Peugeot on the road, it’s already clear that this Simplex shifter is a different beast: it’s solid, has definite stops with plenty of tolerance, and once you’ve memorized its stops, it sets into the new speed in less than a single pedal turn. On my old road bike, I had to pedal several times while fiddling with the lever until it finally decided it wasn’t going to be cranky any more.

We’ve been dealing with a heat and humidity wave for the last month here, so I’m waiting until this evening, when it will (hopefully) be a bit cooler, to take out my Peugeot for my maiden ride on it. I’ll probably take it down the tram tracks (as long as you pay attention to the trams and watch out at intersections, it’s much safer than the so-called “bike lanes” on roads here, which are more like “we painted on some new lines without changing the streets”) to the Promenade des Anglais, which has safer dedicated bike paths where I’ll be able to fiddle to my heart’s content without having to worry too much if I run into any problems.

A few weeks ago I took my camera to Boulevard Garnier, an east-west street north of Nice’s city center. I walk it occasionally to go to the Libération open-air market, and had noticed some beautiful mosaics on apartment entries. The one shown above is a closeup of this mosaic, leading to beautiful wooden doors. It was done by the mosaic cutter and setter Zanussi, as well as this scrolling vine mosaic just down the street.

There’s a more modest art deco mosaic in my building’s entrance, and back on Boulevard Garnier, this “Provence” mosaic, done in a very different style:

The last few weeks, I’ve been busy scraping off the textured paint in my living room to make way for a new color (of regular, non-textured paint). Luckily the textured paint had been put over white paint, which I then had to wash. That last photo may look relatively white, but in reality, it’s quite yellowish — the cleaned walls look much better. This means I won’t have to use primer, which is nice.

About a year ago, Nice started a “city bike” program called Vélo Bleu. I took a 15-euro yearly subscription, which lets you borrow bikes as you want, with the first 30 minutes free on each bike. While it is very cheap, it’s not so practical when, in reality, I’ve only been able to find a bike to use about 10% of the time, plus they’re very heavy and only have 3 speeds. I enjoyed riding them anyway, which helped me realize that I’d be happy with a cheap bike of my own for riding around town. I wouldn’t have to lose any time looking for a Vélo Bleu, and would save the money spent all those times I ended up paying for a bus or tram ticket when a bike couldn’t be found. The downsides are the probability it could be stolen, and having to maintain it myself. But even needing to do maintenance has its upsides: you know what you’re getting into with your own bike.

I didn’t plan on shopping for one until my yearly subscription ran out. I visited one of my favorite secondhand shops today, as I often do because they’re so much fun to browse, then went upstairs to check their used bikes, just in case. I’d seen decent ones in their store over the years, but nothing that ever caught my eye… until today. A charming old Peugeot in orange, with bright green decals, touring handlebars, a chrome rack on the back, front and rear lights, and a mixte (unisex) frame. I could hardly believe my eyes, and figured something must be wrong with it. I spun the wheels to check for wobble: they turned straight and true. I looked at the rims: no divots, cracks, or any other problems. I checked the rear derailleur: a bit gunky, but in fine working condition, which surprised me for a bike its age. The teeth on the chain wheels looked good; the bike pedalled smoothly. I sat on it: surprisingly, the seat was already at the right height for me, and the frame a comfortable fit for head-up city riding, though I would need to turn up the handlebars to level. There was no rust around the bike’s various bolts, which meant adjustments would be feasible. “If the brakes still work, it’s mine,” I thought — not only did the caliper brakes still clamp onto the rims, the pads were in good enough shape that the bike braked without a problem. The only reservations I had were for the shifter and number of speeds: it’s an old lever shifter, and there’s no front derailleur, so the bike’s 5 rear chain wheels meant it only had 5 speeds. “It is just for riding around town, and 5 speeds are still better than 3, plus this is a lot lighter than the city bikes,” I pondered. Then I bought it. 50 euros, and all I need to replace are the tires and inner tubes.

According to its decal styles and serial number, which starts with Y904, it’s a 1979 touring model. Everything on it but the seat and tires is original. 1979 Peugeot Cyclotourisme set with all the photos I took today. As a kid my brother and I would ride steel-frame Takara road bikes, which also had lever shifters. We often had to finagle their caliper brakes and derailleurs, so having another bike with a lever shifter brings back fond childhood memories. I’ll have to re-learn how to ride with one hand while shifting, and memorize the sweet spots for each of the 5 speeds! It will also be fun to have a mechanically simple bike to work on again. I do love my mountain bike, but with disc brakes, and front and rear suspension, it’s not one I can repair entirely on my own.

What’s your reaction to this ad? It will depend on several factors: your sensitivity to animals, for instance, but also how much you know about other cultures, as well as a much less obvious factor. I’m willing to bet that many English speakers are thinking “chicken with its head cut off.” What does that saying conjure up? Someone running around frantically. But this chicken isn’t running around.

“Like a chicken with its head cut off” has no literal equivalent in French. An equivalent in panicky meaning would be “être aux cents coups”. This ad appeared in the major French newspaper Libération, and though the text is hard to make out, it has translations in French, namely “Partie terminée” for “Game Over”. So what is a chicken with its head cut off doing in a French ad, when there is no literal equivalent of the English saying?

For one, to French eyes, it’s clearly posed as one of the emblems of France: the Gallic rooster, scientific name Gallus gallus — indeed, it’s an emblem of France in part because of the Latin play on words for “Gallus”, which can mean “Gaul” or “rooster”. The French also like to joke, referring to national pride, that “the cock crows even when standing in its own merde.” The question then becomes, why is a beheaded rooster posed as a symbol of France on a Sony ad with the text “Game Over”?

Well, it appeared in Libération the day after France’s defeat against South Africa in the World Cup. In case anyone doubts the purposeful resemblance, here’s the logo of the French Football Federation (remember, “football” is the word used for “soccer” in Europe):

On this day in 1860, the French flag replaced the duchy of Savoy flag for the first time in Nice. Today that event was celebrated with parachutists and a performance by the Patrouille de France, one of the world’s oldest aerobatic demonstration teams, formed in 1931. I grew up watching air shows at our local airport, and once saw the Blue Angels perform, so I was very much looking forward to today’s festivities. My expectations were far exceeded — the Patrouille de France, led by Virginie Guyot, the first woman ever (in the world) to lead an aerobatic demonstration team, was breathtaking, especially over the background of a particularly beautiful Mediterranean.

Despite there being quite the crowd, I was able to find a spot near the beach and Place Albert 1er, which was where the performances were set to take place. First, a group of 35 parachutists dropped into a formation supposed to be “150″, though we spectators had a hard time making it out in the blazing sun. They landed not far from where I was. Then it was time for the Patrouille de France’s performance.

They took off from Nice’s airport, their smoke trails on, and impressed us all with their first crowd fly-by. I ended up taking loads of photos, which you can browse in this set. My favorite is above, and the following are pretty nice too:
o Smoke trails over the Baie des Anges, showing the beautiful blues the Mediterranean decided to wear today. She doesn’t often look like this!
o Landing approach simulation also shows the gorgeous blues in the sea, and one of the Patrouille de France’s Alpha Jets flying with its landing gear down.
o Concorde formation!
o Threading the needle, although the literal translation of the description given by the announcer would be “flying through the center of a triangle”.
o This formation was neat as well, since the planes were constantly changing position.
o A star for the final formation.

Today’s festivities began with the removal of the bell cast yesterday night. While we waited for Estrosi, mayor of Nice (and also minister of industry), the clamps were removed from the mold, and we watched flags being thrown over a background of drum and fife music. Once Estrosi arrived, the mold removal could begin. The manager of Paccard explained that to help the bell dislodge from its mold, the casing needed to be hammered. He presented the hammer to Estrosi for “a first few strikes,” but once Estrosi had started, he kept going, despite polite requests from Paccard workers to let them take over. After a few minutes of hammering, the bell was finially dislodged and it came out of its mold. It was covered in residue, which Paccard workers began to remove. Estrosi posed for another photo, then workers sandblasted and polished the bell.The finished bell will resemble its two sisters, also cast for the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France.

While the bell was being sandblasted and polished, a large group of chefs were cooking for all who dared approach. It was less chaotic than I had expected, but there was still plenty of jostling as people tried their best to get at the free food on offer. I managed to get three dishes: a socca salad, then “Niçois sushi”, and finally a mango sorbet with chopped strawberries and basil, with a strawberry coulis. One of the many other dishes prepared was stockfish, which, of course, originates from Norway. How did it become a specialty in Nice? Norwegian sailors would bring stockfish to Nice and exchange it for olive oil, quite simply! After most of the food had been given out, techno was put on the speakers and our chefs danced onstage.

Tomorrow, the bell that was finished today will be formally presented to the City of Nice and blessed by a church representative, since it’s for Notre Dame. (“Notre Dame” simply means “our lady”, so there are several churches and cathedrals named Notre Dame throughout France.)

To start the festivities surrounding the 150th anniversary of Nice joining France, Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” was performed, followed by a traditional church bell casting. The bell shall be for Nice’s Notre Dame church, and was cast by the Fonderie Paccard. Paccard is from Sévrier, on the Lac d’Annecy in Savoy, the duchy of which Nice had been a member. Their bells were, and still are, so well-known that before Savoy joined France, Paccard exported bells to France, as well as to many other countries, including the USA.

The oven was turned on at 5 this morning, with a 78% copper and 12% tin mix (to make bronze), with some phosphorous added while we watched the casting this evening at 10. The finished bell will weigh 225 kilos and ring a C#, or “do dièse” since they refer to musical notes using solfege in French, and have a fixed “do”. The head of Paccard mentioned that the largest bell they ever made weighed 33 metric tonnes, and can be found in an American church. After adding the phosphorous and waiting a few minutes, the caster took the temperature of the heated alloy: 1100 degrees Celsius (or about 2012 degrees Fahrenheit), “perfect for a bell this size,” said the manager. Then a sample was taken and cooled. The first one didn’t look, feel or sound right, giving a tinny, weak buzz when tapped, so a second sample was taken a few minutes later. We could all hear the difference when the manager tapped on it: this sample rang a clear note. Then the caster began to pour the molten alloy into the mold below, which only lasted a few seconds, but was quite the sight to behold! Once it was over, the manager invited us to return tomorrow for the bell’s removal and polishing tomorrow at noon. I’m looking forward to hearing what this bell sounds like.

300-odd years ago, Nice was not part of France, but part of the Duchy of Savoy, and later the Kingdom of Sardinia-Piedmont. Duchy of Savoy territories were the last to join France, their annexation in the 1860 Treaty of Turin ratified by a hotly-contested vote that is still the subject of debate today. Calls for secession from France continue, by authors such as Alain Roullier and groups like Liberà Nissa and the harder-right Nissa Rebela, which I photographed for a “politically incorrect” topic in a recent competition here. (The winner was a photograph of someone using a French flag as toilet paper, to put it politely. When that caused an uproar, the winner was stripped of their prize, which was then given to a photograph of a pregnant woman holding a burning cigarette in front of her stomach. All I can say is that if those were the types of photos they were looking for, I’m glad I didn’t win.)

Amidst this debate, celebrations for Nice’s 150th year as part of France are set for this weekend, beginning Friday evening with a traditional bell-casting for the Notre Dame church here. Festivities will end with a flyover by the Patrouille de France on Monday, the day the French flag was raised over the Palais des Ducs de Savoie, today known as the Palais de la Préfecture in Vieux Nice (Old Nice). I’m going to try to make it to all the events and hope to blog them every day from this Friday to next Monday.

A month ago was my birthday. Around the same time, random browsing on the Internet brought me to information about Molnija watches, and I was able to find a beautiful older one, cleaned and in good working order, at a reasonable price. I’ve always had an interest in Russia, first from literature (Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky especially) and, soon after, thanks to a then-Soviet pen pal from Novosibirsk. We corresponded for several years, up until the 1990s, and I took a year of Russian at university. This pocket watch makes a nice memento and a lovely way to look at the time.

As Fate would have it, the watch has engraving that shows it was a birthday present for its original owner as well! I was born in the same month (April) and nearly the same year as “Sasha”, who was given the watch in 1977. Its embossed case design is the same as on the more modern Molnija Tune of the Orient, though the face and hands are quite different. The Roman numerals, delicate hands and violet-blue face on my watch are the main reason I chose it. I also love that it’s mechanical; needing to wind a watch every day has a symbolic quality.

As for a link with Nice, we have the largest Russian Orthodox cathedral outside of Russia. The église Russe, as it’s known here, is also a beautiful work of art.