All I know is paris. “Everything I know about Paris” Zhanna Agalakova. Free download the book "Everything I know about Paris" Zhanna Agalakova

Someone said that only in Paris can one suffer, but not be unhappy. Zhanna Agalakova, special correspondent Channel One, very subtly, with incredible French charm, tells about the most beautiful city in the world. In any case, it is impossible to argue with this statement while reading the book.

Imagine that somewhere quietly playing an accordion, smelling of roasted chestnuts, and start reading the most elegant book about Paris ...

Instead of a preface

Slavka, my colleague, is terribly lucky. He is in Paris for the first time, just for a day. Covers the European tour of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. But as it turned out, today you don't need to shoot anything, an unexpected day off fell on Slavka, and you can sit in Montmartre and drink beer. It is a record warm October, and Slavka sets out her theory of cities:

- As the city meets you for the first time, it will go. In Yekaterinburg, for example, on my first visit I was terribly unlucky. And since then, the most prepared shootings have been disrupted, the most "iron" interviews have been canceled, even if you crack. And I feel Paris is my city.

Three years later Slavka will come to Paris for the second time, again on a business trip. He will come for some completely innocent reason, but will find himself in the thick of the farmers' protest action, remove a luxurious stand-up against the background of a massive fight with the police (batons, blood on the asphalt, twisted hands, clank of handcuffs and Slavka with a microphone - all in one shot! - die of envy, what a stand-up). He will spend three hours on everything about everything and still have time to stop by my place and have a glass I don't remember what.

But we do not know this yet. I have just arrived in Paris, having changed the chair of the presenter of Channel One for the scraps of my own correspondent, and have not yet managed to shoot a single report. We sit in Montmartre, drink beer, and I remember how Paris once met me.

I think it was 94th. There was no money, I got to Paris by bus - it was cheaper that way. For two days I watched how the cows in the fields floating outside the window became more thoroughbred and thicker, and at home - richer and more colorful. In Paris, at Notre Dame, Giorgio was waiting for me, who in about the same way got to the City of all lovers from Rome. We settled on the Rue Moufftar, the same one where we filmed the wonderful film "Window to Paris". It was a cramped room in an inn for poor students, in which even bed linen was provided for a fee. And on the very first night, all the money was stolen from us.

In full view

Paris can be viewed in some detail on the Internet: blog.paris-26-gigapixels.com.

There are more than 2000 photographs connected "seamlessly". They form the largest panorama of the French capital ever made. There is short info about 20 of the most important sights - from the Cathedral of Notre Dame to the business district of La Defense.

Zhanna Agalakova ALL THAT I KNOW ABOUT PARIS

To my husband Giorgio, who opened Paris for me

To my daughter Alice, who will know him better than me

To my brother Mikhail, who managed to never visit it

Instead of a preface

Slavka, my colleague, is terribly lucky. He is in Paris for the first time, just for a day. Covers the European tour of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. But as it turned out, today you don't need to shoot anything, an unexpected day off fell on Slavka, and you can sit in Montmartre and drink beer. It is a record warm October, and Slavka sets out her theory of cities:

As the city meets you for the first time, it will go. In Yekaterinburg, for example, on my first visit I was terribly unlucky. And since then, the most prepared shootings have been disrupted, the most "iron" interviews have been canceled, even if you crack. And I feel Paris is my city.

Three years later Slavka will come to Paris for the second time, again on a business trip. He will come for some completely innocent reason, but will find himself in the thick of the farmers' protest action, remove a luxurious stand-up against the background of a massive fight with the police (batons, blood on the asphalt, twisted hands, clank of handcuffs and Slavka with a microphone - all in one shot! - die of envy, what a stand-up). He will spend three hours on everything about everything and still have time to stop by my place and have a glass, I don't remember what.

But we do not know this yet. I have just arrived in Paris, having changed the chair of the presenter of Channel One for the scraps of my own correspondent, and have not yet managed to shoot a single report. We sit in Montmartre, drink beer, and I remember how Paris once met me.

I think it was 94th. There was no money, I got to Paris by bus - it was cheaper that way. For two days I watched how the cows in the fields floating outside the window became more thoroughbred and thicker, and at home - richer and more colorful. In Paris, at Notre Dame, Giorgio was waiting for me, who in about the same way got to the City of all lovers from Rome. We settled on the Rue Moufftar, the same one where we filmed the wonderful film "Window to Paris". It was a cramped room in an inn for poor students, in which even bed linen was provided for a fee. And on the very first night, all the money was stolen from us.

I don't even know why we didn't lock the room for the night. Someone just quietly walked in and carefully cleaned out their pockets. There are only a penny left. Fortunately, we managed to pay for the hotel with breakfast 8 days in advance and bought a museum pass, which was very profitable if we visited 2-3 museums a day. We lived like that for over a week. A quarter baguette, butter, jam and coffee drink in the morning - that's all the food. Sometimes it was possible to steal the remains of a roll from the neighboring tables, and then we had dinner. And in the evenings, sitting by the window in a wretched hotel, we could much more calmly endure the neighborhood with a Greek restaurant, from which there was an unbearable smell of garlic-tomato-meat. Towards the end of the Parisian vacation, our ribs began to protrude.

We ate mainly spiritual food: 17 museums in 8 days! What a feast it was! Our legs were bloody (there was no money left for the metro either), we collapsed from fatigue and impressions. And they were absolutely happy. Paris is the only city in the world where you can suffer without being unhappy. I don't remember which of the classics said that ...

… Slavka likes my story. We take another glass. It's a gorgeous golden October, and I don't know yet that there will be unrest in the Parisian suburbs in a week. The deaths of two teenagers, pursued by the police, will provoke unprecedented riots that will ultimately have a noticeable impact on the course of the presidential elections. Immigrants from emigre families will start burning cars, smashing shops, and I will not sleep for 3 weeks in a row, I will shoot 29 reports, than I will set a record, I will be exhausted completely, I will fall out of all my jeans, but I will be satisfied: the baptism of fire seems to have passed ...

And I will also understand that Paris will always test me for strength.

And to give more than I expect from him.

In full view

Paris can be viewed in some detail on the Internet:

.

There are more than 2000 photographs connected "seamlessly". They form the largest panorama of the French capital ever made. Here is a summary of 20 of the most important landmarks - from Notre Dame Cathedral to La Defense business district.

Elysee Palace

Anyone looking for the Elysee Palace right on the Champs Elysees will be wasting time. The residence of the President of the French Republic stands aside, its official address is rue Faubourg Saint-Honore, 55 (55, rue Faubourg Saint-Honore) in the 8th arrondissement. But, even reaching this place, you will not see the palace. On three sides it is surrounded by a four-meter stone wall, and the fourth side is decorated with blank gates. When they are opened to let a car inside, you can see the patio (just a little bit): a little pavement and a lot of pebbles. Terribly uncomfortable for heels.

Zhanna Agalakova

EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT PARIS

To my husband Giorgio, who opened Paris for me

To my daughter Alice, who will know him better than me

To my brother Mikhail, who managed to never visit it

Instead of a preface

Slavka, my colleague, is terribly lucky. He is in Paris for the first time, just for a day. Covers the European tour of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. But as it turned out, today you don't need to shoot anything, an unexpected day off fell on Slavka, and you can sit in Montmartre and drink beer. It is a record warm October, and Slavka sets out her theory of cities:

As the city meets you for the first time, it will go. In Yekaterinburg, for example, on my first visit I was terribly unlucky. And since then, the most prepared shootings have been disrupted, the most "iron" interviews have been canceled, even if you crack. And I feel Paris is my city.

Three years later Slavka will come to Paris for the second time, again on a business trip. He will come for some completely innocent reason, but will find himself in the thick of the farmers' protest action, remove a luxurious stand-up against the background of a massive fight with the police (batons, blood on the asphalt, twisted hands, clank of handcuffs and Slavka with a microphone - all in one shot! - die of envy, what a stand-up). He will spend three hours on everything about everything and still have time to stop by my place and have a glass, I don't remember what.

But we do not know this yet. I have just arrived in Paris, having changed the chair of the presenter of Channel One for the scraps of my own correspondent, and have not yet managed to shoot a single report. We sit in Montmartre, drink beer, and I remember how Paris once met me.

I think it was 94th. There was no money, I got to Paris by bus - it was cheaper that way. For two days I watched how the cows in the fields floating outside the window became more thoroughbred and thicker, and at home - richer and more colorful. In Paris, at Notre Dame, Giorgio was waiting for me, who in about the same way got to the City of all lovers from Rome. We settled on the Rue Moufftar, the same one where we filmed the wonderful film "Window to Paris". It was a cramped room in an inn for poor students, in which even bed linen was provided for a fee. And on the very first night, all the money was stolen from us.

I don't even know why we didn't lock the room for the night. Someone just quietly walked in and carefully cleaned out their pockets. There are only a penny left. Fortunately, we managed to pay for the hotel with breakfast 8 days in advance and bought a museum pass, which was very profitable if we visited 2-3 museums a day. We lived like that for over a week. A quarter baguette, butter, jam and coffee drink in the morning - that's all the food. Sometimes it was possible to steal the remains of a roll from the neighboring tables, and then we had dinner. And in the evenings, sitting by the window in a wretched hotel, we could much more calmly endure the neighborhood with a Greek restaurant, from which there was an unbearable smell of garlic-tomato-meat. Towards the end of the Parisian vacation, our ribs began to protrude.

We ate mainly spiritual food: 17 museums in 8 days! What a feast it was! Our legs were bloody (there was no money left for the metro either), we collapsed from fatigue and impressions. And they were absolutely happy. Paris is the only city in the world where you can suffer without being unhappy. I don't remember which of the classics said that ...

… Slavka likes my story. We take another glass. It's a gorgeous golden October, and I don't know yet that there will be unrest in the Parisian suburbs in a week. The deaths of two teenagers, pursued by the police, will provoke unprecedented riots that will ultimately have a noticeable impact on the course of the presidential elections. Immigrants from emigre families will start burning cars, smashing shops, and I will not sleep for 3 weeks in a row, I will shoot 29 reports, than I will set a record, I will be exhausted completely, I will fall out of all my jeans, but I will be satisfied: the baptism of fire seems to have passed ...

And I will also understand that Paris will always test me for strength.

And to give more than I expect from him.

In full view

Paris can be viewed in some detail on the Internet:

.

There are more than 2000 photographs connected "seamlessly". They form the largest panorama of the French capital ever made. Here is a summary of 20 of the most important landmarks - from Notre Dame Cathedral to La Defense business district.

Elysee Palace

Anyone looking for the Elysee Palace right on the Champs Elysees will be wasting time. The residence of the President of the French Republic stands aside, its official address is rue Faubourg Saint-Honore, 55 (55, rue Faubourg Saint-Honore) in the 8th arrondissement. But, even reaching this place, you will not see the palace. On three sides it is surrounded by a four-meter stone wall, and the fourth side is decorated with blank gates. When they are opened to let a car inside, you can see the patio (just a little bit): a little pavement and a lot of pebbles. Terribly uncomfortable for heels.

There is one more gate in the Elysee Palace. They face Avenue Gabrielle from the Champs Elysees. These are the so-called ceremonial "Rooster's Gate", which are opened only in one case - the solemn entry of the newly baked president.

They say that this, not the most outstanding, was chosen from all the Parisian palaces for the residence of the head of state, precisely because it is hidden from view. To confuse the hot-tempered people who, just a little, immediately arrange a revolution and take the royal residence by storm. Remember Versailles, or better the Tuileries, which the rebellious Communards burned to the ground. Now in its place is the eponymous garden.

The Elysee Palace was built for Count Evreux at the beginning of the 18th century, practically on a vacant lot. In the documents, he then passed as a "mansion". It became a "palace" much later, after the death of the count in 1753, when Louis XV bought it for his official favorite, the Marquise de Pompadour. And she ordered to dig an underground passage so that one could enter and leave the mansion unnoticed, which was repeatedly used by herself and her highest patron.

Yes, the residence of the French presidents was a love nest! And more than once ...

Napoleon Bonaparte's nephew Louis-Napoleon (in 1848 he became the first president of France, but then, in 1852, unexpectedly crowned, becoming an emperor) made the Elysee the main palace of France. He often used a secret loophole for completely non-state purposes. History even keeps the names of its lovely visitors. The course was then walled up, but for a long time it haunted the first ladies of the republic. They say that Madame de Gaulle, upon entering the palace, first asked about this underground passage.

But the most remarkable story happened with the 7th president of the republic, Felix Faure (1841-1899). Fore was a great lover of women, but caring for the country took a lot of energy, so he had to resort to more and more powerful aphrodisiacs, aphrodisiac drugs. On February 16, 1899, he took such a drug in the morning in anticipation of a meeting with one of the most daring and extravagant Parisians of that time - Marguerite Stenel (there is a version that the date was with another lady - actress Cecile Sorel). However, important visits dragged on one after another, keeping the sweet moment further and further away. When Fore finally freed himself and retired in his quarters with Madame Stenel, his excitement reached such a limit that the body of the 58-year-old man could not stand it. At the cry of the beauty, the guards came running. The President was lying on the floor, his clothes, like the clothes of his guest, were in great disarray. Marguerite tried to cover him. She was hastily taken out through the gate at the Rooster's Gate. Fore died the same day. The circumstances of the death tried to be silent, but someone organized a leak of information. Despite the mourning, opposition newspapers printed caustic cartoons.

Zhanna Agalakova

EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT PARIS

To my husband Giorgio, who opened Paris for me

To my daughter Alice, who will know him better than me

To my brother Mikhail, who managed to never visit it

Instead of a preface

Slavka, my colleague, is terribly lucky. He is in Paris for the first time, just for a day. Covers the European tour of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. But as it turned out, today you don't need to shoot anything, an unexpected day off fell on Slavka, and you can sit in Montmartre and drink beer. It is a record warm October, and Slavka sets out her theory of cities:

As the city meets you for the first time, it will go. In Yekaterinburg, for example, on my first visit I was terribly unlucky. And since then, the most prepared shootings have been disrupted, the most "iron" interviews have been canceled, even if you crack. And I feel Paris is my city.

Three years later Slavka will come to Paris for the second time, again on a business trip. He will come for some completely innocent reason, but will find himself in the thick of the farmers' protest action, remove a luxurious stand-up against the background of a massive fight with the police (batons, blood on the asphalt, twisted hands, clank of handcuffs and Slavka with a microphone - all in one shot! - die of envy, what a stand-up). He will spend three hours on everything about everything and still have time to stop by my place and have a glass, I don't remember what.

But we do not know this yet. I have just arrived in Paris, having changed the chair of the presenter of Channel One for the scraps of my own correspondent, and have not yet managed to shoot a single report. We sit in Montmartre, drink beer, and I remember how Paris once met me.

I think it was 94th. There was no money, I got to Paris by bus - it was cheaper that way. For two days I watched how the cows in the fields floating outside the window became more thoroughbred and thicker, and at home - richer and more colorful. In Paris, at Notre Dame, Giorgio was waiting for me, who in about the same way got to the City of all lovers from Rome. We settled on the Rue Moufftar, the same one where we filmed the wonderful film "Window to Paris". It was a cramped room in an inn for poor students, in which even bed linen was provided for a fee. And on the very first night, all the money was stolen from us.

I don't even know why we didn't lock the room for the night. Someone just quietly walked in and carefully cleaned out their pockets. There are only a penny left. Fortunately, we managed to pay for the hotel with breakfast 8 days in advance and bought a museum pass, which was very profitable if we visited 2-3 museums a day. We lived like that for over a week. A quarter baguette, butter, jam and coffee drink in the morning - that's all the food. Sometimes it was possible to steal the remains of a roll from the neighboring tables, and then we had dinner. And in the evenings, sitting by the window in a wretched hotel, we could much more calmly endure the neighborhood with a Greek restaurant, from which there was an unbearable smell of garlic-tomato-meat. Towards the end of the Parisian vacation, our ribs began to protrude.

We ate mainly spiritual food: 17 museums in 8 days! What a feast it was! Our legs were bloody (there was no money left for the metro either), we collapsed from fatigue and impressions. And they were absolutely happy. Paris is the only city in the world where you can suffer without being unhappy. I don't remember which of the classics said that ...

… Slavka likes my story. We take another glass. It's a gorgeous golden October, and I don't know yet that there will be unrest in the Parisian suburbs in a week. The deaths of two teenagers, pursued by the police, will provoke unprecedented riots that will ultimately have a noticeable impact on the course of the presidential elections. Immigrants from emigre families will start burning cars, smashing shops, and I will not sleep for 3 weeks in a row, I will shoot 29 reports, than I will set a record, I will be exhausted completely, I will fall out of all my jeans, but I will be satisfied: the baptism of fire seems to have passed ...

And I will also understand that Paris will always test me for strength.

And to give more than I expect from him.

In full view

Paris can be viewed in some detail on the Internet:

.

There are more than 2000 photographs connected "seamlessly". They form the largest panorama of the French capital ever made. Here is a summary of 20 of the most important landmarks - from Notre Dame Cathedral to La Defense business district.

Zhanna Agalakova

To my husband Giorgio, who opened Paris for me

To my daughter Alice, who will know him better than me

To my brother Mikhail, who managed to never visit it

Slavka, my colleague, is terribly lucky. He is in Paris for the first time, just for a day. Covers the European tour of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. But as it turned out, today you don't need to shoot anything, an unexpected day off fell on Slavka, and you can sit in Montmartre and drink beer. It is a record warm October, and Slavka sets out her theory of cities:

- As the city meets you for the first time, it will go. In Yekaterinburg, for example, on my first visit I was terribly unlucky. And since then, the most prepared shootings have been disrupted, the most "iron" interviews have been canceled, even if you crack. And I feel Paris is my city.

Three years later Slavka will come to Paris for the second time, again on a business trip. He will come for some completely innocent reason, but will find himself in the thick of the farmers' protest action, remove a luxurious stand-up against the background of a massive fight with the police (batons, blood on the asphalt, twisted hands, clank of handcuffs and Slavka with a microphone - all in one shot! - die of envy, what a stand-up). He will spend three hours on everything about everything and still have time to stop by my place and have a glass I don't remember what.

But we do not know this yet. I have just arrived in Paris, having changed the chair of the presenter of Channel One for the scraps of my own correspondent, and have not yet managed to shoot a single report. We sit in Montmartre, drink beer, and I remember how Paris once met me.

I think it was 94th. There was no money, I got to Paris by bus - it was cheaper that way. For two days I watched how the cows in the fields floating outside the window became more thoroughbred and thicker, and at home - richer and more colorful. In Paris, at Notre Dame, Giorgio was waiting for me, who in about the same way got to the City of all lovers from Rome. We settled on the Rue Moufftar, the same one where we filmed the wonderful film "Window to Paris". It was a cramped room in an inn for poor students, in which even bed linen was provided for a fee. And on the very first night, all the money was stolen from us.

I don’t even know why we didn’t lock the room for the night. Someone just quietly walked in and carefully cleaned out their pockets. There are only a penny left. Fortunately, we managed to pay for the hotel with breakfast 8 days in advance and bought a museum pass, which was very profitable if we visited 2-3 museums a day. We lived like that for over a week. A quarter baguette, butter, jam and coffee drink in the morning - that's all the food. Sometimes it was possible to steal the remains of a roll from the neighboring tables, and then we had dinner. And in the evenings, sitting by the window in a wretched hotel, we could much more calmly endure the neighborhood with a Greek restaurant, from which there was an unbearable smell of garlic-tomato-meat. Towards the end of the Paris holidays, our ribs began to protrude.

We ate mainly spiritual food: 17 museums in 8 days! What a feast it was! Our legs were bloody (there was no money left for the metro either), we collapsed from fatigue and impressions. And they were absolutely happy. Paris is the only city in the world where you can suffer without being unhappy. I don't remember which of the classics said that ...

… Slavka likes my story. We take another glass. It's a gorgeous golden October, and I don't know yet that there will be unrest in the Parisian suburbs in a week. The deaths of two teenagers, pursued by the police, will provoke unprecedented riots that will ultimately have a noticeable impact on the course of the presidential elections. Immigrants from emigre families will start burning cars, smashing shops, and I will not sleep for 3 weeks in a row, I will shoot 29 reports, than I will set a record, I will be exhausted completely, I will fall out of all my jeans, but I will be satisfied: the baptism of fire seems to have passed ...

And I will also understand that Paris will always test me for strength.

And to give more than I expect from him.

Paris can be viewed in some detail on the Internet:

.

There are more than 2000 photographs connected "seamlessly". They form the largest panorama of the French capital ever made. Here is a summary of 20 of the most important landmarks - from Notre Dame Cathedral to La Defense business district.

Anyone looking for the Elysee Palace right on the Champs Elysees will be wasting time. The residence of the President of the French Republic stands aside, its official address is rue Faubourg Saint-Honore, 55 (55, rue Faubourg Saint-Honore) in the 8th arrondissement. But, even reaching this place, you will not see the palace. On three sides it is surrounded by a four-meter stone wall, and the fourth side is decorated with blank gates. When they are opened to let a car inside, you can see the patio (just a little bit): a little pavement and a lot of pebbles. Terribly uncomfortable for heels.

There is another gate in the Elysee Palace. They face Avenue Gabrielle from the Champs Elysees. These are the so-called ceremonial "Rooster's Gate", which are opened only in one case - the solemn entry of the newly baked president.

They say that out of all the Parisian palaces they chose this one, not the most outstanding, for the residence of the head of state, precisely because it is hidden from view. To confuse the hot-tempered people who, just a little, immediately arrange a revolution and take the royal residence by storm. Remember Versailles, or better the Tuileries, which the rebellious Communards burned to the ground. Now in its place is the eponymous garden.

The Elysee Palace was built for Count Evreux at the beginning of the 18th century, practically on a vacant lot. In the documents, he then passed as a "mansion". It became a "palace" much later, after the death of the count in 1753, when Louis XV bought it for his official favorite, the Marquise de Pompadour. And she ordered to dig an underground passage so that one could enter and leave the mansion unnoticed, which was repeatedly used by herself and her highest patron.

Yes, the residence of the French presidents was a love nest! And more than once ...

Napoleon Bonaparte's nephew Louis-Napoleon (in 1848 he became the first president of France, but then, in 1852, unexpectedly crowned, becoming an emperor) made the Elysee the main palace of France. He often used a secret loophole for completely non-state purposes. History even keeps the names of its lovely visitors. The course was then walled up, but for a long time it haunted the first ladies of the republic. They say that Madame de Gaulle, upon entering the palace, first asked about this underground passage.

But the most remarkable story happened with the 7th president of the republic, Felix Faure (1841-1899). Fore was a great lover of women, but caring for the country took a lot of energy, so he had to resort to more and more powerful aphrodisiacs, aphrodisiac drugs. On February 16, 1899, he took such a drug in the morning in anticipation of a meeting with one of the most daring and extravagant Parisians of that time - Marguerite Stenel (there is a version that the date was with another lady - actress Cecile Sorel). However, important visits dragged on one after another, keeping the sweet moment further and further away. When Fore finally freed himself and retired in his quarters with Madame Stenel, his excitement reached such a limit that the body of a 58-year-old man could not stand it. At the cry of the beauty, the guards came running. The President was lying on the floor, his clothes, like the clothes of his guest, were in great disarray. Marguerite tried to cover him. She was hastily taken out through the gate at the Rooster's Gate. Fore died the same day. The circumstances of the death tried to remain silent, but someone organized the information leak. Despite the mourning, opposition newspapers printed caustic cartoons.