TAWOMG - In Paris With Proust

Dear Friends,

Last week I was in Paris with my family. Our hotel was between the Opéra and the Madeleine. Being a long time proustien, one of the things that I like to do when in Paris is to visit the places that are connected with the writer's life and that were reflected in his work. This time our location couldn't be better: we were within a walking distance from most places that belonged to his world.

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Paris, as many other European cities, pays tribute to their famous former inhabitants. Their homes are usually marked with a plaque in the front wall and there is information about who and when lived there. Proust is not an exception, although there is nothing at 9 Bvd Malesherbes or 45 rue de Courcelles, where he lived half of his life. That is probably because both addresses were his parents'. But after his mother passed away he moved to 102 Bvd Haussmann, to a building that once belonged to his mother's uncle Louis Weil and that he inherited one quarter after her death. Bvd Haussmann is duly marked, as are his two other addresses.

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Nowadays the building at 102 Bvd Haussmann belongs to a bank. For some years during last decade Proust's room, where he wrote most of the Recherche, could be visited on Thursdays upon previous appointment. Last summer I tried to do it, only to find out that the visits are no longer allowed. That is a shame, although I have read from different sources that his apartment had been changed so drastically that nothing reminded what it was. The furniture of his room is exposed at Musée Carnavalet and is certainly a lot more interesting than an empty (board) room.

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In my opinion the nicest place to visit is Illiers-Combray, a small town at the Beauce, a region worth a visit on its own merits. Proust's father, Dr. Adrien, came from Illiers. The family used to spend Easter's vacation there when Proust was a child. Illiers was transformed into Combray in the book. In 1971, when the author's centenary was celebrated, Illiers added Combray to its name. There you can find "La Maison de Tante Léonie", a small museum built at the house where the family stayed. It was the home of the Amiots. Uncle Jules Amiot also had a garden called Pré-Catelan that inspired the park around Tansonville, Swann's residence. By the way, there is also a property called Tansonville in Illiers-Combray that would fit the description of Swann's way. In the opposite direction there is a château, Villebon that became Guermantes in the book. Most descriptions of Combray correspond exactly to similar places in Illiers.

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The trickiest one, however, is tante Léonie's house itself. To start with, the real house is much smaller and simpler than the one described in the book. The reason is probably because Proust used many elements that actually belonged to his grand uncle's Louis Weil countryside house in Auteuil, where he and his brother Robert were born. At the end of the XIX century Auteuil was outside Paris and the family Weil (and then the Prousts) spent many vacations there. What is amazing is that many author's, including biographer George Painter, make a basic mistake when writing about the Amiot's home in Combray: many imagine that the house had a garden exit where the famous bell that announced Swann's arrival was hanging. The present museum has it, but only because it was remodelled when it became a museum, more than half a century after Proust's last visit. All was made to look like the house of tante Léonie, and then losing touch with what actually existed before.

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A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu is not a roman à clé. Nevertheless, most characters, places, and even situations were clearly inspired in Proust's life. The beauty of it is how he transformed them, creating something new. Though one thing is remarkable: despite of the fact that the narrator has so many things in common with Marcel, in the book he doesn't have a brother. Kill father and mother is a common cliché for becoming an adult. Proust, instead, erases his brother from his works and sends both father and mother to long absences, not to death. It could hardly tell more about how he felt about his family. The irony is that he only started to write seriously after his father and mother deaths, as if it would be better they never read what he wrote.

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In my promenades in Paris last week I went to 11 rue de l'Arcade. One century ago it was a male brothel, managed by Albert Le Cuziat, a former Valet de Pied. He inspired Jupien in the book. I was surprised that it was a six floor building, where today is Hotel de Marigny, a four star hotel. It is amazing that at that time such a business could be run in such a big place. By the way, it is less than three blocks from Proust's apartment. And just next door to Bedford Hotel, where Peter II, Brazilian second and last Emperor died in 1891, when Proust was 20.

Wish you a week to be remembered!

Maurício

TAWOMG - Sleepless in Seattle and Elsewhere

Dear Friends,

Once in a post back in 2008 I wrote that quite often I'm not able to sleep. I cannot say that I have ever been sleepless in Seattle, for the good reason that I never went there. But my sleep troubles date from my young years and I seldom can sleep seven hours non-stop. This maybe happens three or four times in a year. Eight or more hours sounds like unthinkable. The problem is most acute when I'm travelling.

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In December Mônica and I had dinner in Lisbon with Márcia, Laerte and a friend of theirs. Márcia is an old school friend. We hadn't met for a very long time. During dinner I asked her about her mother. She told us that Dona Zezé had been through some difficult times. Some doctors suspected that she had symptoms of senility. One doctor, however, considered the possibility that she might be suffering from some sort of sleep disturbance that might be causing the other problems. After a number of tests they found out that she had severe breathing problems during her sleep, awoke many times during the night, and that was the root problem of her ailments. Once treated, she was doing a lot better.

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Why am I telling all this? Hopefully none of you will think that my sleeping troubles may be the cause of (apparent) senility. I just wanted to say that almost every night I wake up once or twice. Sometimes I stand up, others I just check what time it is. Almost always I can fall back to sleep until wakeup time. Sometimes I can't. It might be that I also have breathing problems, but have never checked. I just got used to it.

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Last Wednesday I woke up at 02:00 in the morning in my hotel room in Oporto. For my big surprise, there was a woman beside me on the bed. She was not there when I went to bed! My first thought was: "I must be dreaming, this can't be true!" But it was. I was awakened and there she was, the unknown woman on my bed.

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This is something that might be quite tricky to explain to your wife, girlfriend or relevant others (it is amazing what PC is doing to the English language... never mind, this topic we'll leave for another day). "It's not what you think it is!" has become cliché in such situations. I prefer "This is not me!" It sounds more honest, somehow. Whatever. In this case the fact is that the woman on my bed was not what you may be thinking it was...

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Actually the woman disappeared the same way she came in. A few seconds later she was no longer there. And I could go back to Morpheus' arms as if nothing had happened.

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Though that was quite amazing!

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Wish you a nice week!

Maurício

PS - In case you want the hotel address, don't hesitate to ask.

TAWOMG - The Amazing Week is Back to Town (again...)

Dear Friends,

Long time no news. Last year I often thought it was about time to come back to this blog. That already counts a lot, because intention is the first step and every long march starts by the first step. Unfortunately I never made the second step though. But this morning I said to myself that instead of including things like losing weight or saving money in my wish list for 2011 (more appropriate name than New Year's resolution list) I should make the decision to write every Sunday. As it wouldn't be very inspiring to fail already in the first one, here I am. And hopefully here you will find me every week from now on.

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This year due to work reasons I could not make it to South American summer for the holidays. I was home alone in Barcelona. My old friend Jan (this year 40, that is awfully old) was also home alone. We decided to have dinner together on New Year's Eve. Before dinner we went to the Dry Martini, where else of all places? This time I paid heed to the famous lines about my favourite drink: "one is OK, two is too much, three is not enough!" We then ate at the Speakeasy, one of the good places in Barcelona. It was a calm dinner with a long time good friend, without all the fuss of regular New Year celebrations.

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Despite being cool about the new year, we couldn't help talking about plans for 2011 and what we intended to do. One of the intentions mentioned was not an easy one. "Do you really intend to do it?" "Well, at least I intend to intend" was the answer. That was pretty realistic.

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So now you know it: will I will keep my promise and write something here every Sunday? Let's talk about it on January 1st 2012. For the time being all I can say is that I definitely intend to intend!

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Wish you all a happy New Year!

Maurício