Up early. Do some light cleaning, just in case the check-er out-er didn't get the message, and enters the apartment with another key. Pack my lunch, and out the door for Montparnasse-Bienvenue, where I will catch the TGV to Rennes. Able to get there, obtain my ticket from the window, and find my seat in good time. Even validated my ticket like a seasoned traveller.
Beautiful French countryside whizzing by. Short nap. Arrived at Rennes, and found the Gare Routiere even though the directions were a little off. On arrival to MSM, hope to find the travel bureau straight off. If not, there will be lots of wandering. I have loaded as much pertinent info as I could,on the iPad, but I feel as if it's still not enough.
Got a simplistic map at the tourist office, and made my way to the top. There were a few museums on the way, but I told myself that I would see them on the way down. When I bought my ticket, it was to find that the English tour (free, 1hr 15mim) had started at 11:00. Bought my ticket anyway, and decided to come back at 14:00 for the next tour. Wandered around the periphery of the abbey, and found a shady spot to have my alfresco lunch. Then I got restless, and decided to go it alone, with an audio guide. I thought that since the were so many stairs, I'd better get cracking. Normally, I hate stairs. In fact, when I have only a floor or two to go, I generally take them two at a time to get it over and done with more quickly. However. With 900 steps, I thought that I'd better give myself plenty of time.
Wandered through the walled lower part, just in awe. Reached the tourism office, and found that the tour started just on the Grand Terrace on the other side of the chapel. Good thing I'd started early. I wandered through the rooms, listening to the audio guide, and hurried back, against the flow of tourists, until I returned to the terrace.
MSM is certainly a magical and mystical place. I can only imagine what it must have been like to cross the mudflats as a pilgrim. And to see the island surrounded by water prior to the building of the causeway? That would have been a fantastical experience. From the terrace, it was possible to see tiny people who had gone out onto the flats, hopefully with a guide, as I understand that there are some deaths each year due to people misjudging the tide, and getting stuck in quicksand.
Guide was wonderful, if somewhat a bit testy at the general noise level. She said that the construction work is projected to be finished in 2016. Then, it wil be possible to see the place as an island again.
Bought two watercolor pictures. One for me, in blues; one with sheep, for the beanie boys. Took a little moment to walk a bit on the mud flats. My initial intent was to dangle my feet in the nearest water. But the. I discovered how slick the mud was. Slick, and mushy, and thick. Suddenly I had a vision of slipping, and getting that mud all down my backside, and I found myself angling back toward the causeway. Nothing like a little anticipated humiliation to curtail adventures. Then again, I did have to spend a few minutes scraping the mud off of my sandals. I intend to throw the sandals away before going to the airport, but they've got to hand on until then. They? Me! I've got to hang onto them until them, and no mud was going to ruin it for me!
Four hours to get back to Paris. A long time for someone with a lot on her mind, as she contemplates leaving Paris, and returning to real life and responsibility. I was twitchy the entire way. Sometimes able to rest, but mostly watching the French countryside whizzing by.
When I get back to the apartment, it is to find that the checker has definitely been here. The blankets on the couch are in disarray, the things I had in the laundry are unceremoniously dumped on the floor, and towels are slightly out of place. To add injury to insult, Magalie said that he found the place very dirty, and suggested that I clean it up to avoid a cleaning fee. Silly, but my feelings were hurt. The thing is, I did straighten up, but also was rushing around to pack for the day out, and had some piles of things that I needed to repack after I returned. Anyway, I can imagine that the guy was frustrated that I wasn't there (having not received my email), but now I will always think of him as a jerk. Besides, if I didn't need to be there in the first place, it would have been very easy. He could have come Friday, when I would be virtually out of the apartment.
Things I would tell the agency that could be improved:
Have the second key available when I arrive, instead of making me return to the office to pick it up.
Have the apartment ready, with linens, on the day I arrive. Also, make sure that everything is in working order.
Have working Internet and cable.
A light above the stove, so that one can tell when food is properly cooked.
A towel rack in the washroom, to hand a hand towel
A shelf in the shower for soap, shampoo, etc.
Teaspoons
Cleaning supplies in the kitchen
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Day 26
Shopping. Got a last minute message from Ayako that the pool was closed for cleaning. And not for the lifeguard strike? Ah well, I propose lunch today or tomorrow, and get out into Paris.
Over to Dehillerins. Except I can't make myself go in. So many beautiful things, which I don't really need, or even have baggage room to take home. I dither for a few minutes before continuing on. In the continuous drizzle. To Mora, x, x, x, x,. Buy roasted cocoa nibs (a whole kilo!), at G. Detou. And some foie gras (don't hate me), at the place we went to on the foodie tour. Contemplate some stacking glass containers, but restrain myself.
Then, since I have an hour to kill before checking in at the school to see if lunch is good today (it really is a hassle to not have cell/web/text services here), I take the metro out to the sweet shop with Henri Le Roux's caramels. Denise, the proprietor, is a character. Must be in her late 50's to early 60's, she speaks with a smoker's raspy voice, sports two schoolgirl braids, wears reading glasses, and dresses like a parochial student. Charming, and passionate about sweets. Everything is so tasty, but I limit myself to the caramels, and 4 jars of the CBS paste. Basically, I clean her out. Lucky I came today, and not tomorrow. I overhear the couple before me say that they'd gone to his store outside of Paris, and it was closed. For vacation? Anyway, Denise has an order in, but will not be able to get anymore stock until after they reopen! I marvel at my good luck.
Back at the school, Pranali and Ayako are ready for lunch. I see Christine briefly, and she says that the chocolates were "super!" it always makes me laugh to hear the French say it, always with the accent on the second syllable. Lunch at another cafe around the corner from the school. Apparently it's one that these two ate at with Venus and Sean. The onion soup is good, but very filling. I'm unable to finish my steak, and entice the other two to share my third course dessert, a creme brûlée!
After lunch, I go over to the Milk store, and copy/send my license to the conference organizer.
Back to the apartment, to drop off my goods, and inertia sets in. I continue the packing, to see if it will be necessary to buy another bag. I think I can get everything in. Especially as I will need to check a bag with liquid-y-ish consumables, I can use the stuff sac and my handy dandy large Marche Franprix bag to carry other stuff in. Good grief, the chocolate is heavy!
And then, I get the idea to go to Mont St. Michel. I'd wanted to go every since Patti had told me about it years ago, but had been letting the idea go, bit by bit, throughout the trip. I found a few websites with online registration, and registered on one. Then, getting nervous, I called ... an American telephone number! Turns out that the tour had been sold out for two months. So, I searched online, and decided to go by myself. Who knows the next time I will have an opportunity?
After successfully booking my ticket, I thought it important to buy food for a picnic lunch. Looks like weather will be warm, bright, and humid, and that food on the island is outrageously expensive. I dawdle, and miss the Kaysor bakery. So sad. I make do with the Franprix.
When I get home, as I'm putting groceries away, I realize that I will be on the train, when the person comes to check out the apartment! I don't even know why this is necessary, but it looks like the rental agency have changed policy, and want to be able to check the apartment before the tenant leaves. I email Magalie, apologize, and ask if it's possible to do Thursday morning at 08-0900. I hope it's okay, and that it doesn't take too long, as the conference starts at 09:00 on Thursday.
I also look up info on Cafe Constant. It is just across the Champs de Mars from where the conference is, and I plan to eat there both nights. It is a lazy decision, but also a delicious one, as the food is amazingly tasty.
Over to Dehillerins. Except I can't make myself go in. So many beautiful things, which I don't really need, or even have baggage room to take home. I dither for a few minutes before continuing on. In the continuous drizzle. To Mora, x, x, x, x,. Buy roasted cocoa nibs (a whole kilo!), at G. Detou. And some foie gras (don't hate me), at the place we went to on the foodie tour. Contemplate some stacking glass containers, but restrain myself.
Then, since I have an hour to kill before checking in at the school to see if lunch is good today (it really is a hassle to not have cell/web/text services here), I take the metro out to the sweet shop with Henri Le Roux's caramels. Denise, the proprietor, is a character. Must be in her late 50's to early 60's, she speaks with a smoker's raspy voice, sports two schoolgirl braids, wears reading glasses, and dresses like a parochial student. Charming, and passionate about sweets. Everything is so tasty, but I limit myself to the caramels, and 4 jars of the CBS paste. Basically, I clean her out. Lucky I came today, and not tomorrow. I overhear the couple before me say that they'd gone to his store outside of Paris, and it was closed. For vacation? Anyway, Denise has an order in, but will not be able to get anymore stock until after they reopen! I marvel at my good luck.
Back at the school, Pranali and Ayako are ready for lunch. I see Christine briefly, and she says that the chocolates were "super!" it always makes me laugh to hear the French say it, always with the accent on the second syllable. Lunch at another cafe around the corner from the school. Apparently it's one that these two ate at with Venus and Sean. The onion soup is good, but very filling. I'm unable to finish my steak, and entice the other two to share my third course dessert, a creme brûlée!
After lunch, I go over to the Milk store, and copy/send my license to the conference organizer.
Back to the apartment, to drop off my goods, and inertia sets in. I continue the packing, to see if it will be necessary to buy another bag. I think I can get everything in. Especially as I will need to check a bag with liquid-y-ish consumables, I can use the stuff sac and my handy dandy large Marche Franprix bag to carry other stuff in. Good grief, the chocolate is heavy!
And then, I get the idea to go to Mont St. Michel. I'd wanted to go every since Patti had told me about it years ago, but had been letting the idea go, bit by bit, throughout the trip. I found a few websites with online registration, and registered on one. Then, getting nervous, I called ... an American telephone number! Turns out that the tour had been sold out for two months. So, I searched online, and decided to go by myself. Who knows the next time I will have an opportunity?
After successfully booking my ticket, I thought it important to buy food for a picnic lunch. Looks like weather will be warm, bright, and humid, and that food on the island is outrageously expensive. I dawdle, and miss the Kaysor bakery. So sad. I make do with the Franprix.
When I get home, as I'm putting groceries away, I realize that I will be on the train, when the person comes to check out the apartment! I don't even know why this is necessary, but it looks like the rental agency have changed policy, and want to be able to check the apartment before the tenant leaves. I email Magalie, apologize, and ask if it's possible to do Thursday morning at 08-0900. I hope it's okay, and that it doesn't take too long, as the conference starts at 09:00 on Thursday.
I also look up info on Cafe Constant. It is just across the Champs de Mars from where the conference is, and I plan to eat there both nights. It is a lazy decision, but also a delicious one, as the food is amazingly tasty.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Day 25
It's a Monday, and most of the museums I want to visit are closed. Lazy, I spend the morning in bed, watching youtube clips of SYTYCD. I finally get out of bed, and out of the apartment to explore Paris. What did I do? I can't even remember. I will have to go back over my receipts to see if I bought anything that can trigger a memory.
Read lots of David Leibovitz's blog. I wonder if he is as likeable in person. It certainly seems like many people kiss up to him to get favorable reviews on his blog. But maybe I'm too cynical.
To Les Halles. Muji store. Saw swimming pool. Played on one of the public pianos, part of a mobile art/music exhibit. Could only remember parts of the Love Story theme song, and Fur Elise. It's been a looooong time.
Ah, one memory is that I went to the supermarket and bought food to cook. Some mushroom soup with which to cook my lentils, as well as a carrot.
Messaging about nurse license for ECMO conference. Check into email for work and school. Skype is a wonderful thing.
Read lots of David Leibovitz's blog. I wonder if he is as likeable in person. It certainly seems like many people kiss up to him to get favorable reviews on his blog. But maybe I'm too cynical.
To Les Halles. Muji store. Saw swimming pool. Played on one of the public pianos, part of a mobile art/music exhibit. Could only remember parts of the Love Story theme song, and Fur Elise. It's been a looooong time.
Ah, one memory is that I went to the supermarket and bought food to cook. Some mushroom soup with which to cook my lentils, as well as a carrot.
Messaging about nurse license for ECMO conference. Check into email for work and school. Skype is a wonderful thing.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Day 24
Up early-ish to go to Vanves again. Strangely lethargic. Got there around 08:00, and wandered. Did end up buying five,small, blunt-ish knives for cheese. Then, I became anxious, and felt like I should go to church. So, down to the metro I went. At the Champs Élysées Clemanceau stop, there were lots of people waiting. That's never a good sign. Waited for about 20 minutes until the first train came. So, I missed the sacrament , but heard the speakers, and was glad to hear it in French, and caught a lot of the meaning, even if I was very tired. The last speaker was maybe the bishop, maybe the stake president? But he was definitely American. He seemed to speak French well, but his "R's" gave him away.
I hung around a little afterward, undecided as to staying for the rest of the services. However, the ward seemed, not hostile, but also not welcoming. So, I left. Wandered toward the Carnavalet, then decided that I'd rather have lunch before entering. Walked over to the Place des Vosges, and ended up seeing the Maison de Victor Hugo. Temporary exhibit on his black and white drawings. Wish I could have understood more, but it was mostly in French. Mostly, I am seduced by his words. It has always been this way for me. First the mind, then the personality, then the body. Unless the body is amazing. But mostly it's the mind. Then again, Hugo kept a mistress for decades. I wonder what her life was like. The guide described her as always being in the shadows. A half-lit life. I wonder if it was worth it for her? I also wonder what Mrs. Hugo thought.
Lunch at Nectarine around the corner. Had the coq au vin. Looks like they did it with red, instead of white. Learn something new everyday. And now, fortified, I think I am ready for l'addition and the Carnavalet!
Got the audio guide, which was very much worth it. I have never been one to study history much, but it is fascinating, and makes me wish I had paid more attention earlier on. Ran into Sydney, who also had her audio guide headphones on, and we laughed with each other in the only way that two foreigners in a strange land can.
I just find the setup in the Carnavalet so charming. From the recreated rooms of famous people, to the paintings that are so quintessentially Parisian. I meant to return to see the Atget exhibit, but I now fear that that won't be likely. The problem with the temporary exhibits, judging from my experience at the Maison de Victor Hugo, is that they are all in the local language. And while I enjoy artwork, I like to know the history and motivation behind the artist.
People I would like to find out more about include Paul Leautaud, Jeanne Louiseau, Fouquet (the artist/architect), Caroline Remy, Henri Rochefort, Jean Jaures, Jules Valles, Louise Michel, Hector Horeau, Rousseau and Voltaire,
Back in the bookshop, I again couldn't get myself to buy any books. It may be too late, but I'm still thinking about the one for the diptych exhibit.
I hung around a little afterward, undecided as to staying for the rest of the services. However, the ward seemed, not hostile, but also not welcoming. So, I left. Wandered toward the Carnavalet, then decided that I'd rather have lunch before entering. Walked over to the Place des Vosges, and ended up seeing the Maison de Victor Hugo. Temporary exhibit on his black and white drawings. Wish I could have understood more, but it was mostly in French. Mostly, I am seduced by his words. It has always been this way for me. First the mind, then the personality, then the body. Unless the body is amazing. But mostly it's the mind. Then again, Hugo kept a mistress for decades. I wonder what her life was like. The guide described her as always being in the shadows. A half-lit life. I wonder if it was worth it for her? I also wonder what Mrs. Hugo thought.
Lunch at Nectarine around the corner. Had the coq au vin. Looks like they did it with red, instead of white. Learn something new everyday. And now, fortified, I think I am ready for l'addition and the Carnavalet!
Got the audio guide, which was very much worth it. I have never been one to study history much, but it is fascinating, and makes me wish I had paid more attention earlier on. Ran into Sydney, who also had her audio guide headphones on, and we laughed with each other in the only way that two foreigners in a strange land can.
I just find the setup in the Carnavalet so charming. From the recreated rooms of famous people, to the paintings that are so quintessentially Parisian. I meant to return to see the Atget exhibit, but I now fear that that won't be likely. The problem with the temporary exhibits, judging from my experience at the Maison de Victor Hugo, is that they are all in the local language. And while I enjoy artwork, I like to know the history and motivation behind the artist.
People I would like to find out more about include Paul Leautaud, Jeanne Louiseau, Fouquet (the artist/architect), Caroline Remy, Henri Rochefort, Jean Jaures, Jules Valles, Louise Michel, Hector Horeau, Rousseau and Voltaire,
Back in the bookshop, I again couldn't get myself to buy any books. It may be too late, but I'm still thinking about the one for the diptych exhibit.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Day 23
00:40. Train station is empty. And cold. This has quite possibly been the stupidest decision I've ever made in my life, to believe the guy at the Fountainebleau ticket counter. "Bien sur, il y a de taxis après l'opera. Vous pouvez arriver a Paris touts vite!" Duh. Especially since I hadn't any taxis near the chateau in broad daylight. Oh, I'm a smarty, I am. And while I'm not generally a violent person, I kinda want to punch that guy in the face. And myself too (but much less) I find a little cubby between two back to back vending machines, and it has a little step that I can sit on. Cramped, but I don't feel the wind so acutely here. Plus, I feel like it makes me less visible. The problem is that my legs feel very squished. And it's cold. Two African French guys wander onto the platform, also dismayed at having missed the train. I am so not interested in talking to anyone, and am curt. I can hardly ever be charming when I am sitting in a cubby. The guys go away, which is a relief.
01:48. Right now, I am wishing all kinds of things. That I had ordered a Crimson cashmere sweater. (Why didn't I? They only cost 300€ each. Oh, maybe that's why.) That I had changed my pants. That I had bought and worn some jeans. That I had left the opera at 23:00. That I had not been so set on seeing the opera in the first place. I just wanted to. So I did. Ha! I wander in search of a place where I can stretch my legs, that isn't too cold. I go down into the underpass between the two platforms, and it is empty and well-lit. I enjoy the solitude for a few minutes, until the guys find the spot as well. Hmmmmm. Still not in the mood for conversation. I take myself out onto the other side, and sit at the covered and lit bus benches. I write in my paper journal, so that I'm not advertising that I have an expensive tablet. It gets cold. I mean, it gets cold-er. So I start pacing in front of the benches. I get strange stares from party people who are dropping off friends to pick up their cars at the station. Or at least I imagine they are strange stares. I know if the situation were reversed, I would do the same. Or, at least, I'd feel it. I do at least try to be discreet.
02:30. Wandering around, trying to keep warm. Pass by a timetable and see that the first train back to Paris comes at 05:30. That means only three more hours to go. Wander some more. Or was that the schedule for weekdays? A second check reveals that it was, but first Saturday train also comes at 05:30. The thing is, this showing of Aida is the most physically uncomfortable I've ever been while being entertained. This includes standing at that club while watching The Super Furry Animals with Renee et al. Yes, the operatic singing was amazing (even if the choreography/dancing was terrible), but ... really? I might have done it to see Les Miserables, but not for Aida. It wasn't magical enough to make me forget my discomfort.
03:30. Can't see the guys in the underpass, so I return. And make up phrases and logos for parties I plan to throw. S'atelier. Soirée Sandra. Savoir Sandra. A nice visual riff on Parler Parlour. Supper @ Sandra's. Soirée @Sandra's. Scene @ Sandra's (this one is my favorite! To be used for play reading parties).
04:45. The sky is beginning to lighten. The most beautiful morning sky ever, in my eyes. This reminds me of that poor chap who dies in _Howard's End._ At least the part where he talks about walking through fields all night. Not the poetic revelation he hoped for, but he made it through. And really, the situations aren't that similar, and I don't want to die because I have a weak heart, and because an angry old man whips me and tosses a bookcase on me. But I am making it through.
05:00. Youngish girl asks me if I speak English. Not because I look particularly French, but because I am the only woman on the platform. Of course. The first train for Paris comes at 05:30. If you have a credit card with a chip, you can buy a ticket over at that machine. No problem.
05:30. The SNCF train arrives. The most beautiful train I've ever seen, taking me away from my least favorite train station in the world.
06:05. Approaching Gare de Lyon. The sky is already brighter now that it was at 14:00 yesterday in Paris. Can't wait to fall into bed.
Wake up around 11:00, and am restless, even if I am tired. I return to North Hollywood in a week. Get. My act together, take a quick shower, toss a water and some butter in my bag, and I am out the door. Quick stop at Eric Kaysor for a baguette, and at the frommagerie for some mimolette, and then I'm on the metro to Marche de Puces at Vanves. It's relatively late when I arrive, and about a third of the vendors will have left by the time I finish. But I have a lovely time wandering through and looking at all the curiosities. Lots of silverware, plates, and eating utensils. Knick-knacks galore. I see a few cheese knives that look interesting, but they are all too large for the cheese/fruit/meat plates that I want to use them for. I see some interesting old cameras. Some for photos, and some for filming movies. I'm a little tempted, but not enough to buy. An old sewing machine that folds into its own box. An old and damaged typewriter.
Finally, with my bag empty, but my wallet full, I take the metro back to the school. Of course, I missed the Parler Parlour, which started at 11:00. But I arrive before Pranali. Of course. She arrives a little late, and needs to go and print the ticket to Vaux le Vicomte that her mother bought for her online. So bizarre to me that she doesn't have a credit card, but maybe it's for the best. So many US college students aren't able to manage their finances wisely with regard to plastic. College students? Make that US adults in general.
There is not time to go to the grocery store to flesh out my baguette for lunch, but we make it to Gare de Lyon, and on to the train in just enough time. Just. And we're off. I worry since I neglected to validate my pass before boarding the train (what would it have profited to validate, but miss the train?), and pray that the conductor doesn't come by. In fact, the conductor does pass, and stops when the man sitting opposite flags him down. But all the conductor does is make a notation on the man's ticket, seemingly at the man' request. Maybe it's what one does when one forgets to validate? I wonder, but am not curious enough to inquire. The man has a mane do lightly grizzled curly red hair, tied back into a ponytail. He also has a large bouquet of flowers wrapped up carefully for the trip. I wonder who will be the recipient of the
Arrive at Melun, and are pointed toward the cafe across the street, where the Vaux navette picks up passengers. An older couple is there, reading the sign, and blocking anyone else. A guy drives by in a car, and after some negotiation, the couple gets in. The guys offer us a ride to Vaux as well, for 5€. No, merci. Navette comes a few minutes later, and we're the only ones on it for the duration. After a bit, we come to a small, inviting road that runs between two orderly lines of trees. The scene seems very familiar. We arrive at the chateau a few minutes later, and even from the outer gate, it looks beautiful. We enter with our tickets, and take a light lunch of salads (augmented by the baguette and mimolette) in the little self-serve cafeteria. The sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, and we alternately don and doff our sweaters.
After looking over the pamphlet, I decide to go through the gardens, then do the carriage house, and finally the chateau at the end. We can't enter the chateau until 20:00 anyway, since we have the candlelight tickets.
The gardens are beautiful. Due to Le Notre's genius, it seems to extend forever. And yet, while in one section, it is nigh impossible to see the next. So, one is repeatedly surprised at the revelation of new areas, just when one had thought one had arrived at the end. When one finds oneself at the grotto, it is to realize that the only way forward is to go around the ends of the horizontal canal. It's quite an undertaking. Finally, having made one's way around, one can start the climb to Hercules' statue, where one can gaze at the gardens and the chateau in all their combined glory. Took a little time to stretch out on the grass, but the sun was mostly hiding, and the ground was a little damp. Or, as Amy would say, with the utmost disdain, "moist." So, we returned the way we'd come, and set up camp on the chateau-side of the canal. I actually took a nap, as the sun had mostly gotten over its shyness. Ahhhhhhhh. Woke up a little after 19:00, and we headed in to see the equipage.
Fascinating to see names attached to gorgeous carriages. Especially when I recognized the names from carriage types that Jane Austin wrote about. No barouches, but the exhibit recalled a lifetime of reading. And then, on to the chateau.
The audio guide had the delightful charm of a charming additional dimension to a fabulous visit of the chateau. Unlike some of the other guides I've used, this one had lots of interesting information on who used what rooms, why they were important, and foibles and strengths of their lives. The chateau itself it quite beautiful, and full of stories to tell. From the vanity, power, and demise of Fouquet; the beneficence of the Pralins, the restoration under the Sommiers. Additionally, the castle was lit primarily with candles. Even most of the chandeliers were lit with tapers, and not by electric lights. It almost makes me eyes hurt to think of how dimly those in ages past lived in their homes, but I'd say that there were definite compensations for the wealthy.
The visit of the chateau itself took 2 hours, which time seemed to whiz by. We exited around 22:00, and walked around to the back to view the gardens in their candlelit glory. Made we wish for an old-fashioned lithographed map of the gardens, but there were no such things offered at the gift shop. I did end. Up getting some postcards, and a little place card holder in the shape of a squirrel (Fouquet's emblem), to put in my shadow box. It was a wonderful day, and I regretted arriving after the 14:00 admission time for those with candlelight access.
As we exited the gift shop (wanted to make sure that we got seats on the navette ... No more train station nights, please), we heard booms. We started running toward the front of the chateau, and lo and behold, there were fireworks! Glorious! We had seen some set up above the grotto, but had been uncertain because it wasn't the proper week for fireworks. Or maybe they were doing it specially for the Soir des Muses dinner? Whatever, I was particularly delighted to have seen them, even from a distance. Especially since we had missed them the Saturday prior.
Happy ride back to Melun, and then to Paris. Joyeaux Anniveersaire, indeed!
01:48. Right now, I am wishing all kinds of things. That I had ordered a Crimson cashmere sweater. (Why didn't I? They only cost 300€ each. Oh, maybe that's why.) That I had changed my pants. That I had bought and worn some jeans. That I had left the opera at 23:00. That I had not been so set on seeing the opera in the first place. I just wanted to. So I did. Ha! I wander in search of a place where I can stretch my legs, that isn't too cold. I go down into the underpass between the two platforms, and it is empty and well-lit. I enjoy the solitude for a few minutes, until the guys find the spot as well. Hmmmmm. Still not in the mood for conversation. I take myself out onto the other side, and sit at the covered and lit bus benches. I write in my paper journal, so that I'm not advertising that I have an expensive tablet. It gets cold. I mean, it gets cold-er. So I start pacing in front of the benches. I get strange stares from party people who are dropping off friends to pick up their cars at the station. Or at least I imagine they are strange stares. I know if the situation were reversed, I would do the same. Or, at least, I'd feel it. I do at least try to be discreet.
02:30. Wandering around, trying to keep warm. Pass by a timetable and see that the first train back to Paris comes at 05:30. That means only three more hours to go. Wander some more. Or was that the schedule for weekdays? A second check reveals that it was, but first Saturday train also comes at 05:30. The thing is, this showing of Aida is the most physically uncomfortable I've ever been while being entertained. This includes standing at that club while watching The Super Furry Animals with Renee et al. Yes, the operatic singing was amazing (even if the choreography/dancing was terrible), but ... really? I might have done it to see Les Miserables, but not for Aida. It wasn't magical enough to make me forget my discomfort.
03:30. Can't see the guys in the underpass, so I return. And make up phrases and logos for parties I plan to throw. S'atelier. Soirée Sandra. Savoir Sandra. A nice visual riff on Parler Parlour. Supper @ Sandra's. Soirée @Sandra's. Scene @ Sandra's (this one is my favorite! To be used for play reading parties).
04:45. The sky is beginning to lighten. The most beautiful morning sky ever, in my eyes. This reminds me of that poor chap who dies in _Howard's End._ At least the part where he talks about walking through fields all night. Not the poetic revelation he hoped for, but he made it through. And really, the situations aren't that similar, and I don't want to die because I have a weak heart, and because an angry old man whips me and tosses a bookcase on me. But I am making it through.
05:00. Youngish girl asks me if I speak English. Not because I look particularly French, but because I am the only woman on the platform. Of course. The first train for Paris comes at 05:30. If you have a credit card with a chip, you can buy a ticket over at that machine. No problem.
05:30. The SNCF train arrives. The most beautiful train I've ever seen, taking me away from my least favorite train station in the world.
06:05. Approaching Gare de Lyon. The sky is already brighter now that it was at 14:00 yesterday in Paris. Can't wait to fall into bed.
Wake up around 11:00, and am restless, even if I am tired. I return to North Hollywood in a week. Get. My act together, take a quick shower, toss a water and some butter in my bag, and I am out the door. Quick stop at Eric Kaysor for a baguette, and at the frommagerie for some mimolette, and then I'm on the metro to Marche de Puces at Vanves. It's relatively late when I arrive, and about a third of the vendors will have left by the time I finish. But I have a lovely time wandering through and looking at all the curiosities. Lots of silverware, plates, and eating utensils. Knick-knacks galore. I see a few cheese knives that look interesting, but they are all too large for the cheese/fruit/meat plates that I want to use them for. I see some interesting old cameras. Some for photos, and some for filming movies. I'm a little tempted, but not enough to buy. An old sewing machine that folds into its own box. An old and damaged typewriter.
Finally, with my bag empty, but my wallet full, I take the metro back to the school. Of course, I missed the Parler Parlour, which started at 11:00. But I arrive before Pranali. Of course. She arrives a little late, and needs to go and print the ticket to Vaux le Vicomte that her mother bought for her online. So bizarre to me that she doesn't have a credit card, but maybe it's for the best. So many US college students aren't able to manage their finances wisely with regard to plastic. College students? Make that US adults in general.
There is not time to go to the grocery store to flesh out my baguette for lunch, but we make it to Gare de Lyon, and on to the train in just enough time. Just. And we're off. I worry since I neglected to validate my pass before boarding the train (what would it have profited to validate, but miss the train?), and pray that the conductor doesn't come by. In fact, the conductor does pass, and stops when the man sitting opposite flags him down. But all the conductor does is make a notation on the man's ticket, seemingly at the man' request. Maybe it's what one does when one forgets to validate? I wonder, but am not curious enough to inquire. The man has a mane do lightly grizzled curly red hair, tied back into a ponytail. He also has a large bouquet of flowers wrapped up carefully for the trip. I wonder who will be the recipient of the
Arrive at Melun, and are pointed toward the cafe across the street, where the Vaux navette picks up passengers. An older couple is there, reading the sign, and blocking anyone else. A guy drives by in a car, and after some negotiation, the couple gets in. The guys offer us a ride to Vaux as well, for 5€. No, merci. Navette comes a few minutes later, and we're the only ones on it for the duration. After a bit, we come to a small, inviting road that runs between two orderly lines of trees. The scene seems very familiar. We arrive at the chateau a few minutes later, and even from the outer gate, it looks beautiful. We enter with our tickets, and take a light lunch of salads (augmented by the baguette and mimolette) in the little self-serve cafeteria. The sun plays hide and seek with the clouds, and we alternately don and doff our sweaters.
After looking over the pamphlet, I decide to go through the gardens, then do the carriage house, and finally the chateau at the end. We can't enter the chateau until 20:00 anyway, since we have the candlelight tickets.
The gardens are beautiful. Due to Le Notre's genius, it seems to extend forever. And yet, while in one section, it is nigh impossible to see the next. So, one is repeatedly surprised at the revelation of new areas, just when one had thought one had arrived at the end. When one finds oneself at the grotto, it is to realize that the only way forward is to go around the ends of the horizontal canal. It's quite an undertaking. Finally, having made one's way around, one can start the climb to Hercules' statue, where one can gaze at the gardens and the chateau in all their combined glory. Took a little time to stretch out on the grass, but the sun was mostly hiding, and the ground was a little damp. Or, as Amy would say, with the utmost disdain, "moist." So, we returned the way we'd come, and set up camp on the chateau-side of the canal. I actually took a nap, as the sun had mostly gotten over its shyness. Ahhhhhhhh. Woke up a little after 19:00, and we headed in to see the equipage.
Fascinating to see names attached to gorgeous carriages. Especially when I recognized the names from carriage types that Jane Austin wrote about. No barouches, but the exhibit recalled a lifetime of reading. And then, on to the chateau.
The audio guide had the delightful charm of a charming additional dimension to a fabulous visit of the chateau. Unlike some of the other guides I've used, this one had lots of interesting information on who used what rooms, why they were important, and foibles and strengths of their lives. The chateau itself it quite beautiful, and full of stories to tell. From the vanity, power, and demise of Fouquet; the beneficence of the Pralins, the restoration under the Sommiers. Additionally, the castle was lit primarily with candles. Even most of the chandeliers were lit with tapers, and not by electric lights. It almost makes me eyes hurt to think of how dimly those in ages past lived in their homes, but I'd say that there were definite compensations for the wealthy.
The visit of the chateau itself took 2 hours, which time seemed to whiz by. We exited around 22:00, and walked around to the back to view the gardens in their candlelit glory. Made we wish for an old-fashioned lithographed map of the gardens, but there were no such things offered at the gift shop. I did end. Up getting some postcards, and a little place card holder in the shape of a squirrel (Fouquet's emblem), to put in my shadow box. It was a wonderful day, and I regretted arriving after the 14:00 admission time for those with candlelight access.
As we exited the gift shop (wanted to make sure that we got seats on the navette ... No more train station nights, please), we heard booms. We started running toward the front of the chateau, and lo and behold, there were fireworks! Glorious! We had seen some set up above the grotto, but had been uncertain because it wasn't the proper week for fireworks. Or maybe they were doing it specially for the Soir des Muses dinner? Whatever, I was particularly delighted to have seen them, even from a distance. Especially since we had missed them the Saturday prior.
Happy ride back to Melun, and then to Paris. Joyeaux Anniveersaire, indeed!
Friday, June 22, 2012
Day 22
My last day of French class. Quite sad to see it, as the class has helped me improve my French, and gave structure to my days. Apparently I was quite lucky to get in while Christine was teaching. From what A says, Christine teaches at Lutece Langue in between the classes she teaches at the Sorbonne. In fact, after next week, Christine won't be teaching at LL because she will be doing a summer session at the Sorbonne.
Alan still grates, but not as much as on the first day. He seems well educated, and is not mean, but he just exudes a patriarchal type of air that I find off-putting. Maybe it was that he was so domineering and pushy on the first day, when we had team discussions on what we would take and do if we were stranded on a deserted island for three months. Anyway, he didn't come to lunch, and didn't ask me about this blog, so I don't have to change what I've written. I would have, since I hate to hurt people's feelings, but I like feeling like it's not an issue.
I gave Christine the chocolates, and she gave me a French/continental farewell. I love those. Since she had given Gillian her email, i also asked her for her contact info. Christine gave me her email, with an admonition to write her, in French!
To lunch with Pranali, A, and Gillian, at one of those cafes that surround the Pompidou. I think it's so exciting that A and Gillian have taken such dramatic moves to broaden their lives. A for moving from Japan to France to marry her husband and take (at least) a few years to live here, and decide what to do with the rest of their lives. It seems like their options are wide open, as her husband is trying to learn Japanese, and already speaks French, Spanish, and English. And Gillian and here husband for moving here from Manchester, and giving it at least two years. Although I think it would be difficult to uproot one's life from the motherland, I also think that it would be quite the adventure. Gillian asked me if I thought I would be able to move to Paris and work, and I don't think I would be able to. I think that the technical aspects would not be any different, but the communication would be very difficult. Besides all the charting, there is the need for concise communication between hospital staff, as well as the need to educate the patients and their families. I feel like I have gotten worlds better at this, but I have a hard time imagining being able to do it in French.
Just writing this, I am reminded that the idea to learn French predates the trip to Morocco. Actually, the seed of the idea was planted when I watched the movie, "As Good As It Gets." Diane Keaton's character goes into a French bakery in the Hamptons, and speaks with the proprietors in (seemingly) flawless French. Her daughter proudly explains to Jack Nicholson's character that her mother decided to learn French one day, and became fluent after dedicated study. I don't think I will ever become fluent, but maybe I can become proficient enough to travel in French-speaking countries easily, without having to resort to English. Or maybe I will become fluent sometime before I die. C'est possible!
After lunch, wandered through BHV. They had indeed restocked their decorative number tiles, and I arranged two different styles to see how I liked them. I dithered around for a bit. Then decided to splurge and just go for it. Also wandered around some of the other floors. Some of the decorative wall stencils were 40-50% off, but not the tall iron streetlight that I like. I just can't bring myself to pay 45€ for it.
Back to the apartment. I'd planned on changing into my warm slacks, but the sun was so strong that I couldn't. Probably a mistake. Packed a quick lunch that was completed by a baguette from Eric Kaysor. After partaking of baguettes from the supermarket, I am fully convinced of the superiority of Kaysor. It makes me curious about the last Parisian boulanger to win the baguette prize. The monetary reward is only 4000€, but the winner gets loads of press, and will keep Hollande in baguettes for the next year.
Took a very crowded SNCF train out to Fontainebleau-Avon. It was so crowded, that I took the second to last seat in the car I boarded. The last was taken in no time, and we were off. Many of the locals seemed to zone out to their iPods, or just doze with their chins in their chests. I can certainly understand the impetus to get headsets that cover the entire ear. They look cool, and probably give great sound. But I saw a Law and Order episode a while ago, in which a woman was assaulted while taking money out of an ATM, and she never saw the attacker because she was so aurally-isolated by her huge headset. Ever since then, the only place I can wear headsets is where I feel totally physically safe.
Arrived in FA, and found out that the last train to Paris leaves the station at midnight. At least, I hope I read the sign right. Anyway, this means that I might be able to take the train back, instead of taking a taxi all the way back! I kept an eye out for taxis, but I didn't see any on the bus ride to the chateau. Maybe they come out on spectacle nights? Or maybe I will just have to hoof it back quickly after the show? I think it ends at 23:40, which would give me 20 minutes. Or maybe I will have to take a taxi back any way. Or maybe I will just end up sleeping on the doorway of the train station. So many possibilities.
Picnicked on a bench in the forward courtyard. Mimolette cheese from the Maubert frommagerie, my Kaysor baguette (perfection!), sel de mer butter, eggplant spread, and water. A simple repast, but delicious.
Headed into the opera area around 8:30. Although my seat is in the third row from the rear, it's still pretty good. The only problem is the swarming gnats. I was typing away on the iPad, when I became aware of a swarm right in front of my face! Eeekurghblech! They don't stay for long after I start waving, but ... Eeekurghblech!
When I looked back at my photos, I found out that the Aida poster I'd taken a photo of was for the pleine air performance over at Chateau Vincennes. It would have been much more convenient and accessible, but I wonder if the weather would have been so bad that they would have cancelled the performances on those particular days. I'll have to look back and verify the dates, after I see how I return to Paris tonight. Or tomorrow.
Around 21:00. Opera starts. Looks promising. But the seats are very uncomfortable, and I'm already cold.
Around 22:30. Intermission. Supposed to only be 15 minutes. If the end on time, maybe I can make it to the train station to take the last train to Paris? Maybe I should leave my seat and stand on the sidelines so that I can exit quickly. Naaahhhhh.
23:30. They still haven't put Radames in the tomb yet. This is starting to look bad. Wish I had stood at the side. Standing for a little bit wouldn't have been that bad.
23:50. Finally able to extricate myself from my row of seats. As quickly as possible, I try to make my way over the cobblestones in the courtyard. Only one taxi, and it looks like its reserved and being held. Oh no. Maybe there will be more taxis at the train station? I book it.
00:00 Happy birthday to me.
Alan still grates, but not as much as on the first day. He seems well educated, and is not mean, but he just exudes a patriarchal type of air that I find off-putting. Maybe it was that he was so domineering and pushy on the first day, when we had team discussions on what we would take and do if we were stranded on a deserted island for three months. Anyway, he didn't come to lunch, and didn't ask me about this blog, so I don't have to change what I've written. I would have, since I hate to hurt people's feelings, but I like feeling like it's not an issue.
I gave Christine the chocolates, and she gave me a French/continental farewell. I love those. Since she had given Gillian her email, i also asked her for her contact info. Christine gave me her email, with an admonition to write her, in French!
To lunch with Pranali, A, and Gillian, at one of those cafes that surround the Pompidou. I think it's so exciting that A and Gillian have taken such dramatic moves to broaden their lives. A for moving from Japan to France to marry her husband and take (at least) a few years to live here, and decide what to do with the rest of their lives. It seems like their options are wide open, as her husband is trying to learn Japanese, and already speaks French, Spanish, and English. And Gillian and here husband for moving here from Manchester, and giving it at least two years. Although I think it would be difficult to uproot one's life from the motherland, I also think that it would be quite the adventure. Gillian asked me if I thought I would be able to move to Paris and work, and I don't think I would be able to. I think that the technical aspects would not be any different, but the communication would be very difficult. Besides all the charting, there is the need for concise communication between hospital staff, as well as the need to educate the patients and their families. I feel like I have gotten worlds better at this, but I have a hard time imagining being able to do it in French.
Just writing this, I am reminded that the idea to learn French predates the trip to Morocco. Actually, the seed of the idea was planted when I watched the movie, "As Good As It Gets." Diane Keaton's character goes into a French bakery in the Hamptons, and speaks with the proprietors in (seemingly) flawless French. Her daughter proudly explains to Jack Nicholson's character that her mother decided to learn French one day, and became fluent after dedicated study. I don't think I will ever become fluent, but maybe I can become proficient enough to travel in French-speaking countries easily, without having to resort to English. Or maybe I will become fluent sometime before I die. C'est possible!
After lunch, wandered through BHV. They had indeed restocked their decorative number tiles, and I arranged two different styles to see how I liked them. I dithered around for a bit. Then decided to splurge and just go for it. Also wandered around some of the other floors. Some of the decorative wall stencils were 40-50% off, but not the tall iron streetlight that I like. I just can't bring myself to pay 45€ for it.
Back to the apartment. I'd planned on changing into my warm slacks, but the sun was so strong that I couldn't. Probably a mistake. Packed a quick lunch that was completed by a baguette from Eric Kaysor. After partaking of baguettes from the supermarket, I am fully convinced of the superiority of Kaysor. It makes me curious about the last Parisian boulanger to win the baguette prize. The monetary reward is only 4000€, but the winner gets loads of press, and will keep Hollande in baguettes for the next year.
Took a very crowded SNCF train out to Fontainebleau-Avon. It was so crowded, that I took the second to last seat in the car I boarded. The last was taken in no time, and we were off. Many of the locals seemed to zone out to their iPods, or just doze with their chins in their chests. I can certainly understand the impetus to get headsets that cover the entire ear. They look cool, and probably give great sound. But I saw a Law and Order episode a while ago, in which a woman was assaulted while taking money out of an ATM, and she never saw the attacker because she was so aurally-isolated by her huge headset. Ever since then, the only place I can wear headsets is where I feel totally physically safe.
Arrived in FA, and found out that the last train to Paris leaves the station at midnight. At least, I hope I read the sign right. Anyway, this means that I might be able to take the train back, instead of taking a taxi all the way back! I kept an eye out for taxis, but I didn't see any on the bus ride to the chateau. Maybe they come out on spectacle nights? Or maybe I will just have to hoof it back quickly after the show? I think it ends at 23:40, which would give me 20 minutes. Or maybe I will have to take a taxi back any way. Or maybe I will just end up sleeping on the doorway of the train station. So many possibilities.
Picnicked on a bench in the forward courtyard. Mimolette cheese from the Maubert frommagerie, my Kaysor baguette (perfection!), sel de mer butter, eggplant spread, and water. A simple repast, but delicious.
Headed into the opera area around 8:30. Although my seat is in the third row from the rear, it's still pretty good. The only problem is the swarming gnats. I was typing away on the iPad, when I became aware of a swarm right in front of my face! Eeekurghblech! They don't stay for long after I start waving, but ... Eeekurghblech!
When I looked back at my photos, I found out that the Aida poster I'd taken a photo of was for the pleine air performance over at Chateau Vincennes. It would have been much more convenient and accessible, but I wonder if the weather would have been so bad that they would have cancelled the performances on those particular days. I'll have to look back and verify the dates, after I see how I return to Paris tonight. Or tomorrow.
Around 21:00. Opera starts. Looks promising. But the seats are very uncomfortable, and I'm already cold.
Around 22:30. Intermission. Supposed to only be 15 minutes. If the end on time, maybe I can make it to the train station to take the last train to Paris? Maybe I should leave my seat and stand on the sidelines so that I can exit quickly. Naaahhhhh.
23:30. They still haven't put Radames in the tomb yet. This is starting to look bad. Wish I had stood at the side. Standing for a little bit wouldn't have been that bad.
23:50. Finally able to extricate myself from my row of seats. As quickly as possible, I try to make my way over the cobblestones in the courtyard. Only one taxi, and it looks like its reserved and being held. Oh no. Maybe there will be more taxis at the train station? I book it.
00:00 Happy birthday to me.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Day 21
The summer solstice. To celebrate, the city of Paris has La Fete de Musique. Music all over the city, for free, all through the night. I received an email newsletter with links to popular sites, etc, but thought that it would be too crowded. Plus, I heard that even though the metro will run all night long, that it's a bit of a nightmare trying to get anywhere hear Notre Dame.
After class (during which I was able to tell Christine that I tried and loved the creme du marronne; she offered to get me more, but I said that I had found it at the Monoprix), I finally screwed up my courage and went to the Patrick Roger store to buy some chocolates. It seemed indeed a formal affair. Or maybe it was because there was only one other person in there, and it was very quiet. The aroma was intoxicating. The carved hippopotamus was quite impressive. And the chocolates were lovingly encased in turquoise boxes that made on think of Tiffany's with a kick. I thought to buy a box of chocolate covered almonds, then worried that someone in Christine's family would be allergic to nuts. It's horrible that there are so many food allergies, especially the ones that can be deadly. Anyway, I ended up buying the arrangement right next to the almonds. Same size box. But 40€ ... !
Returned home to deposit the chocolates (in the pretty bag, Yoko would be so proud), and couldn't get up the energy to get up and go. Plus, it started to rain. Hard. So, I scrapped my plan to return to the Carnavelet, and took a nap. When I woke up an hour later, the sun was shining. It was too late to visit the museum, but thought I'd check out the necklaces in the shop on Rue de Pont Louis Phillipe. This street leads north from the Ile St. Louis into the Marais, and has a plethora of charming shops. There's that word again. Charming. I seem to be using it a lot these days. But it's quite apt. Anyway, I remember walking along this street four years ago, as I walked to Mimi's apartment for our potluck dinner. I found the shop, and actually bought a necklace. Not the one I'd been eyeing before. Really, it was too busy. But another one that was a little simpler, and more "me." Then, as I continued north, I found a store with some felted wool floral scarves. They reminded me so much of the felted wool shop in Kathmandu that I had to stop and take a look. Charming! Or, charmonte! I bought two!
Continued north, and finally arrived at the Place des Vosges. The wind made the park feel a tad bit chilly, but it the shaded areas were peaceful enough, and benches were available, so that I made myself at home and wrote a bit. Then, I heard a choral group warming up. Not the best I've ever heard, but enough the piqué my interest. Then they started singing, and I made my way to the center of the garden to hear them sing. A college group, from what I understood. The director was a youngish, earnest-looking guy. He only sang enough to give the group their pitches, but his voice seemed clear and true. Quite enjoyed the group , and was sad when the music was over.
Words cannot express my general contentment at being in this garden. The sun is shining (intermittently, as the clouds are pushed this way and that by the wind), and the leaves of the trees, newly washed by the earlier rain, filter the light delightfully. All this contentedness makes me wonder why I don't do this while back home in LA. No wireless in the park? Too involved in trying to get good grades? Too tired from a rough combination of work and school? Just too lazy? The next few months are going to be rough, but the end is in sight. If all goes according to plan, I will finish school in February.
Of course, one could argue that I spent most of my 20's and 30's just enjoying myself, and that if I had applied myself back then, I wouldn't feel so pressured now. Ah well, I'm getting to where I should be.
Returned to the apartment to drop things off. On the way, saw a large crowd listening to a jazzy band at the national archives. Saw an even large group listening to a rock band playing at the Arab Institute. My plan was to drop things off, the head over to the Louvre, and see of any musicians or singers were performing in the courtyard hallways to the east of the pyramids. At least that was my plan. But it was late, and I was tired. So, I stayed in and put my feet up. Ahhhhhh ...
After class (during which I was able to tell Christine that I tried and loved the creme du marronne; she offered to get me more, but I said that I had found it at the Monoprix), I finally screwed up my courage and went to the Patrick Roger store to buy some chocolates. It seemed indeed a formal affair. Or maybe it was because there was only one other person in there, and it was very quiet. The aroma was intoxicating. The carved hippopotamus was quite impressive. And the chocolates were lovingly encased in turquoise boxes that made on think of Tiffany's with a kick. I thought to buy a box of chocolate covered almonds, then worried that someone in Christine's family would be allergic to nuts. It's horrible that there are so many food allergies, especially the ones that can be deadly. Anyway, I ended up buying the arrangement right next to the almonds. Same size box. But 40€ ... !
Returned home to deposit the chocolates (in the pretty bag, Yoko would be so proud), and couldn't get up the energy to get up and go. Plus, it started to rain. Hard. So, I scrapped my plan to return to the Carnavelet, and took a nap. When I woke up an hour later, the sun was shining. It was too late to visit the museum, but thought I'd check out the necklaces in the shop on Rue de Pont Louis Phillipe. This street leads north from the Ile St. Louis into the Marais, and has a plethora of charming shops. There's that word again. Charming. I seem to be using it a lot these days. But it's quite apt. Anyway, I remember walking along this street four years ago, as I walked to Mimi's apartment for our potluck dinner. I found the shop, and actually bought a necklace. Not the one I'd been eyeing before. Really, it was too busy. But another one that was a little simpler, and more "me." Then, as I continued north, I found a store with some felted wool floral scarves. They reminded me so much of the felted wool shop in Kathmandu that I had to stop and take a look. Charming! Or, charmonte! I bought two!
Continued north, and finally arrived at the Place des Vosges. The wind made the park feel a tad bit chilly, but it the shaded areas were peaceful enough, and benches were available, so that I made myself at home and wrote a bit. Then, I heard a choral group warming up. Not the best I've ever heard, but enough the piqué my interest. Then they started singing, and I made my way to the center of the garden to hear them sing. A college group, from what I understood. The director was a youngish, earnest-looking guy. He only sang enough to give the group their pitches, but his voice seemed clear and true. Quite enjoyed the group , and was sad when the music was over.
Words cannot express my general contentment at being in this garden. The sun is shining (intermittently, as the clouds are pushed this way and that by the wind), and the leaves of the trees, newly washed by the earlier rain, filter the light delightfully. All this contentedness makes me wonder why I don't do this while back home in LA. No wireless in the park? Too involved in trying to get good grades? Too tired from a rough combination of work and school? Just too lazy? The next few months are going to be rough, but the end is in sight. If all goes according to plan, I will finish school in February.
Of course, one could argue that I spent most of my 20's and 30's just enjoying myself, and that if I had applied myself back then, I wouldn't feel so pressured now. Ah well, I'm getting to where I should be.
Returned to the apartment to drop things off. On the way, saw a large crowd listening to a jazzy band at the national archives. Saw an even large group listening to a rock band playing at the Arab Institute. My plan was to drop things off, the head over to the Louvre, and see of any musicians or singers were performing in the courtyard hallways to the east of the pyramids. At least that was my plan. But it was late, and I was tired. So, I stayed in and put my feet up. Ahhhhhh ...
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Day 20
After class, went with Pranali to collect things for lunch. Sushi box, baguette, cheese, tomato tapenade, strawberries, drinks, nutella, and crisps. Took our booty over to the Champs de Mar for an al fresco picnic and a great view of the Eiffel Tower. We even found a lawn that was ope. Of picnicking, and used my converted Marche Franprix bags for a ground cover. We gorged ourselves, and enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the cool of the shade.
Over to L'Invalides to explore the military. First we found the Louis XIV to Napolean III section. Amazing displays of military costumes, accoutrements, and video displays with troop movements and battles. We wandered haphazardly for a while, until we became more aware of the time! Hurried over to see the chapel, and to see Napoleon's tomb. Amazing that such pomp and splendor was given to one man, so recently.
Then, we sped through the World War sections.cmade it through the entirety of the first, but only through 1943. It gave me the chills to see how far human kind has come in developing the tools of war. From pikes and swords, to guns and bombs, to chemical warfare. The most terrifying part for me was the display with masks and air purification systems for use in chemical warfare. So inhumane. I felt anew the detrimental effects of having a military force that only a small fraction of the citizenry participates in. So easy to send troops to war when one is not personally invested in any of those individual lives.
Finally, we were hurried out of the museum. It is so immense that it would take days to thoughtfully explore the museum. Days that I would rather devote to other subjects.
Over to the Rodin Museum. Unfortunately, it is undergoing some reconstruction/restoration, and only a portion of the Hotel Biron is open. However, most of my favorite pieces were still on display in the temporary exhibit, "Rodin, The Flesh, The Marble." Works such as The Kiss, The Hand of God, Lovers' Hands, and Monument to Victor Hugo. Quickly wandered through the truncated main collection, then spent the rest of the evening in the garden.
Or, at least, that was my plan. However, I started to feel eaten alive by buys. Ugh. Went through the flesh/marble exhibit again, just to fix the pieces in my memory. It's amazing to me how Rodin was able to "free" figures in the unyielding stone. Especially given his penchant to leave large parts of the block unfinished, so that one can see the contrast between the raw material and the developed surfaces. The pieces appear so real. Also, being sculpture and not a two dimensional art form, the figures almost seem to jump out of the imagination. With Rodin's marble sculptures, I am able to suspend disbelief in a way that is just impossible with paintings. The only other place I have seen his work is at a museum in San Francisco. Seemed to take a while to get there by bus, and it was near the ocean and lots of trees. Must see if there are any Rodins in Los Angeles. That being said, he was a horrible womanizer. I feel great pity for any woman who was foolish enough to give her heart to this man. I wonder if Camille Claudel thought that their relationship was worth the heartache and insanity that ended up destroying her. Of course, it might have been a natural proclivity, but I'm sure that the tumultuous relationship "helped" bring about her decline and demise.
I should qualify that it's Rodin's marbles that I love. The bronzes don't really touch me at all.
A quick look in the gift shop. Again, nothing tempted me enough, given that I had just seen the glorious originals.
Took the metro back. Stepped off at the Clunny La Sorbonne stop to take some photos of the platform. Tile signatures adorn the ceiling above the platform. The only one I could make out was Robespierre. One wonders what his thoughts were as he sat in jail, and just before he was executed. Poetic justice? Or a profound sense of injustice and pride?
On a whim, I took the 10 all the way to Gare Austerlitz. I was surprised to see that the Jardin des Plantes was closed. A garden closed before dusk? In Paris? But, I wandered through the Tino Rossi garden instead. It follows the left bank of the Seine up toward the Arab Institute. The TR is an open air sculpture garden, but also an open air meeting place for people of all stripes. Lots of people picnicking on the lawns and semi-circular steps. I'd read somewhere that there was dancing along the Seine here in the summer, but saw none of it. Maybe it is on the weekend? Saw one sculpture in particular that reminded me of descriptions of primitive stone buildings. Some resourceful biker had decided that it made a particularly good post to which to lock his bike.
All in all, it's been a beautiful day, and I was sad to find it ending. It seems like my days are rushing to a conclusion. And while I begin to yearn for the comforts of home, I feel a certain sense of panic at having my visit end.
Over to L'Invalides to explore the military. First we found the Louis XIV to Napolean III section. Amazing displays of military costumes, accoutrements, and video displays with troop movements and battles. We wandered haphazardly for a while, until we became more aware of the time! Hurried over to see the chapel, and to see Napoleon's tomb. Amazing that such pomp and splendor was given to one man, so recently.
Then, we sped through the World War sections.cmade it through the entirety of the first, but only through 1943. It gave me the chills to see how far human kind has come in developing the tools of war. From pikes and swords, to guns and bombs, to chemical warfare. The most terrifying part for me was the display with masks and air purification systems for use in chemical warfare. So inhumane. I felt anew the detrimental effects of having a military force that only a small fraction of the citizenry participates in. So easy to send troops to war when one is not personally invested in any of those individual lives.
Finally, we were hurried out of the museum. It is so immense that it would take days to thoughtfully explore the museum. Days that I would rather devote to other subjects.
Over to the Rodin Museum. Unfortunately, it is undergoing some reconstruction/restoration, and only a portion of the Hotel Biron is open. However, most of my favorite pieces were still on display in the temporary exhibit, "Rodin, The Flesh, The Marble." Works such as The Kiss, The Hand of God, Lovers' Hands, and Monument to Victor Hugo. Quickly wandered through the truncated main collection, then spent the rest of the evening in the garden.
Or, at least, that was my plan. However, I started to feel eaten alive by buys. Ugh. Went through the flesh/marble exhibit again, just to fix the pieces in my memory. It's amazing to me how Rodin was able to "free" figures in the unyielding stone. Especially given his penchant to leave large parts of the block unfinished, so that one can see the contrast between the raw material and the developed surfaces. The pieces appear so real. Also, being sculpture and not a two dimensional art form, the figures almost seem to jump out of the imagination. With Rodin's marble sculptures, I am able to suspend disbelief in a way that is just impossible with paintings. The only other place I have seen his work is at a museum in San Francisco. Seemed to take a while to get there by bus, and it was near the ocean and lots of trees. Must see if there are any Rodins in Los Angeles. That being said, he was a horrible womanizer. I feel great pity for any woman who was foolish enough to give her heart to this man. I wonder if Camille Claudel thought that their relationship was worth the heartache and insanity that ended up destroying her. Of course, it might have been a natural proclivity, but I'm sure that the tumultuous relationship "helped" bring about her decline and demise.
I should qualify that it's Rodin's marbles that I love. The bronzes don't really touch me at all.
A quick look in the gift shop. Again, nothing tempted me enough, given that I had just seen the glorious originals.
Took the metro back. Stepped off at the Clunny La Sorbonne stop to take some photos of the platform. Tile signatures adorn the ceiling above the platform. The only one I could make out was Robespierre. One wonders what his thoughts were as he sat in jail, and just before he was executed. Poetic justice? Or a profound sense of injustice and pride?
On a whim, I took the 10 all the way to Gare Austerlitz. I was surprised to see that the Jardin des Plantes was closed. A garden closed before dusk? In Paris? But, I wandered through the Tino Rossi garden instead. It follows the left bank of the Seine up toward the Arab Institute. The TR is an open air sculpture garden, but also an open air meeting place for people of all stripes. Lots of people picnicking on the lawns and semi-circular steps. I'd read somewhere that there was dancing along the Seine here in the summer, but saw none of it. Maybe it is on the weekend? Saw one sculpture in particular that reminded me of descriptions of primitive stone buildings. Some resourceful biker had decided that it made a particularly good post to which to lock his bike.
All in all, it's been a beautiful day, and I was sad to find it ending. It seems like my days are rushing to a conclusion. And while I begin to yearn for the comforts of home, I feel a certain sense of panic at having my visit end.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Day 19
We had class again in the cafe. The only bad thing is that I haven't been able to access the wifi there. This is problematic, since I have come to rely on it, especially when the wifi at the apartment is acting psychotic. We also had a new student. A retired gentleman from Arizona, who likes country music. He has a smattering of French, and I think he must have studied Spanish at some point in the past. However, he grates on me. I hope to be mistaken in my impression on the morrow.
Christine also brought me a pack of creme de marrone in a tube. When I asked how much, she replied that it was a gift. How nice! Maybe later this week I can say that I tried it, loved it, and found some at the Monoprix that I unexpectedly stumbled upon. And, I will bring her some chocolates as a thank you/farewell gift, like Venus did the other week. I had already planned on it, but her unexpected kindness stiffened my resolve. This Friday will be Gillian and my last day in class, so we are planning on going out to lunch. At least everyone who wants to come along. Yes, even Alan.
Over to the Gilbert bookstores near St. Michel to buy a verb conjugation book that Christine recommended. There are so many Gilbert stores within just a few blocks. One for fiction, one for science, another for politics and economy, one for languages. I wish I could read all the books in the store. It's one of the strangest things for me here, being unable to read quickly, and understand what is on the page. The book is "Bescherelle Conjugaisons," by Hatier. This means that I must continue with my French studies when I get back to the states.
Over to Musee Marmottan. Quite liked the Impressionist works, especially that of Caillebotte, Cheret (posters), and of course, Monet. I particularly liked the "Portrait de Poly," whose subject looks like a jolly fellow, and "Impression, Soleil Levant," which is the painting through which the movement was named. Originally, it was meant as a slam by a journalist, but the artists adopted the name, and became the Impressionists.
Didn't much care for the illumination work, or the religious artwork. Yes, it can be very beautiful, but I just haven't been in the mood.
Very much enjoyed the Berthe Morisot exhibit. She was one of the few female artists who regularly exhibited, and she was revered for her great art. I particularly liked the portraits where the faces were visible, such as in "Paule Gobillard Peignart," "Jeanne Pontillon," " Fillette Au Jersey Bleau (pastel)," and "Marthe, la flour Au chevaux." There is something quite luminous and. Harming about the way that Morisot used light and texture. Eduard Manet painted a delightful portrait of her, titled, "Portrait de Berthe Morisot etendue," which shows her as a piquant young woman.
In 1890, Morisot wrote in a letter, "nowadays, little girls attend five or six classes a week, then come out into society, the get married and dedicate themselves to their husbands. Hence, no more models - no more delightfully picturesque, lazy, languorous moments. People are busy, people are fidgety, does no one understand that nothing is more precious than two hours stretched on a chaise lounge? Dreaming is the stuff of life - and dreams are more real than reality."
I had it in my head to buy some prints or postcards. But when I got to the shop, the copies didn't have the charm of the actual works. Especially with impressionist works, the texture conveys a certain vitality to the work, that leaves copies feeling rather flat. Also, the tourists crowding the shop were intolerable. I decided that I could look at images on the net, without cluttering up my walls or luggage, and I left.
Walked over to the Maison de Balzac, but like the Musee Picasso, it was closed. Back to the metro station. Dithered, but decided to go with the RER C, even though I hate it; there are so many different branches, that I often windup waiting a long time for the right one, or even jumping on the wrong one. This was the train that made me late to meet Karine the other night! I should have listened to my instincts. I got on the wrong train, but had a hard time seeing the station signs. So, at one stop I got up to look, and missed the step right at my foot. Like a drunkard, I stumbled around a bit, gathering unwanted stares. One kindly African woman inquired, "Ca va?" I replied, "Ca va," even though my ankle felt a bit twisted. Will need to keep it up and take ibuprofen tonight!
Stopped off at a cafe near school to write this, while I ate a quiche and tarte tatin, and drank some sparkling mineral water. Now, I'm off to Parler Parlour, for some conversation practice!
PP was an interesting experience. I'm sorry to have missed the other weeks. Our group shifted around a bit, but I got to meet a chemical consultant from Philadelphia who has been living in Paris for 2 years, a professor from ? Who is staying in Paris for 2 months during her vacation, a Canadian history professor who is vacationing in Paris for a month with his wife (whose speciality is history of Parisian architecture post-Haussmann), a day trader from England who is in Paris for 6 months, and two Parisian IT guys who want to improve their English. Interesting concept, the first 45 minutes we conversed in French (I was the worst, which is a first, and was quite beneficial for me), and the second half, we talked in English. The Canadian actually speaks Québécois, and they talked a bit about the difference between French French, and Québécois French. Education: how its supported in Quebec and France, how Sarkozy wanted to change it, how US students go to Canada to get a better bargain on university degrees, the rising cost of higher education in the states. The development and spread of the internet. The upcoming festival of music in Paris. Lots of different topics. It's so good to talk with people outside the US, and get an international perspective on world events. It reminds me of Orson Scott Card's discussion of center and fringe countries in his scifi book, "Xenocide." I often think that Americans are so wrapped up in thinking that the US is the most important country in the world, that we fail to consider foreign sentiment. Then again, I am definitely guilty of this type of US-centric egotism. Or maybe it's that my daily life is so full of work and school, that I have little brain left with which to think of anything besides what I hear on NPR news, or what gets discussed on the Exponent II blog and list serve.
Christine also brought me a pack of creme de marrone in a tube. When I asked how much, she replied that it was a gift. How nice! Maybe later this week I can say that I tried it, loved it, and found some at the Monoprix that I unexpectedly stumbled upon. And, I will bring her some chocolates as a thank you/farewell gift, like Venus did the other week. I had already planned on it, but her unexpected kindness stiffened my resolve. This Friday will be Gillian and my last day in class, so we are planning on going out to lunch. At least everyone who wants to come along. Yes, even Alan.
Over to the Gilbert bookstores near St. Michel to buy a verb conjugation book that Christine recommended. There are so many Gilbert stores within just a few blocks. One for fiction, one for science, another for politics and economy, one for languages. I wish I could read all the books in the store. It's one of the strangest things for me here, being unable to read quickly, and understand what is on the page. The book is "Bescherelle Conjugaisons," by Hatier. This means that I must continue with my French studies when I get back to the states.
Over to Musee Marmottan. Quite liked the Impressionist works, especially that of Caillebotte, Cheret (posters), and of course, Monet. I particularly liked the "Portrait de Poly," whose subject looks like a jolly fellow, and "Impression, Soleil Levant," which is the painting through which the movement was named. Originally, it was meant as a slam by a journalist, but the artists adopted the name, and became the Impressionists.
Didn't much care for the illumination work, or the religious artwork. Yes, it can be very beautiful, but I just haven't been in the mood.
Very much enjoyed the Berthe Morisot exhibit. She was one of the few female artists who regularly exhibited, and she was revered for her great art. I particularly liked the portraits where the faces were visible, such as in "Paule Gobillard Peignart," "Jeanne Pontillon," " Fillette Au Jersey Bleau (pastel)," and "Marthe, la flour Au chevaux." There is something quite luminous and. Harming about the way that Morisot used light and texture. Eduard Manet painted a delightful portrait of her, titled, "Portrait de Berthe Morisot etendue," which shows her as a piquant young woman.
In 1890, Morisot wrote in a letter, "nowadays, little girls attend five or six classes a week, then come out into society, the get married and dedicate themselves to their husbands. Hence, no more models - no more delightfully picturesque, lazy, languorous moments. People are busy, people are fidgety, does no one understand that nothing is more precious than two hours stretched on a chaise lounge? Dreaming is the stuff of life - and dreams are more real than reality."
I had it in my head to buy some prints or postcards. But when I got to the shop, the copies didn't have the charm of the actual works. Especially with impressionist works, the texture conveys a certain vitality to the work, that leaves copies feeling rather flat. Also, the tourists crowding the shop were intolerable. I decided that I could look at images on the net, without cluttering up my walls or luggage, and I left.
Walked over to the Maison de Balzac, but like the Musee Picasso, it was closed. Back to the metro station. Dithered, but decided to go with the RER C, even though I hate it; there are so many different branches, that I often windup waiting a long time for the right one, or even jumping on the wrong one. This was the train that made me late to meet Karine the other night! I should have listened to my instincts. I got on the wrong train, but had a hard time seeing the station signs. So, at one stop I got up to look, and missed the step right at my foot. Like a drunkard, I stumbled around a bit, gathering unwanted stares. One kindly African woman inquired, "Ca va?" I replied, "Ca va," even though my ankle felt a bit twisted. Will need to keep it up and take ibuprofen tonight!
Stopped off at a cafe near school to write this, while I ate a quiche and tarte tatin, and drank some sparkling mineral water. Now, I'm off to Parler Parlour, for some conversation practice!
PP was an interesting experience. I'm sorry to have missed the other weeks. Our group shifted around a bit, but I got to meet a chemical consultant from Philadelphia who has been living in Paris for 2 years, a professor from ? Who is staying in Paris for 2 months during her vacation, a Canadian history professor who is vacationing in Paris for a month with his wife (whose speciality is history of Parisian architecture post-Haussmann), a day trader from England who is in Paris for 6 months, and two Parisian IT guys who want to improve their English. Interesting concept, the first 45 minutes we conversed in French (I was the worst, which is a first, and was quite beneficial for me), and the second half, we talked in English. The Canadian actually speaks Québécois, and they talked a bit about the difference between French French, and Québécois French. Education: how its supported in Quebec and France, how Sarkozy wanted to change it, how US students go to Canada to get a better bargain on university degrees, the rising cost of higher education in the states. The development and spread of the internet. The upcoming festival of music in Paris. Lots of different topics. It's so good to talk with people outside the US, and get an international perspective on world events. It reminds me of Orson Scott Card's discussion of center and fringe countries in his scifi book, "Xenocide." I often think that Americans are so wrapped up in thinking that the US is the most important country in the world, that we fail to consider foreign sentiment. Then again, I am definitely guilty of this type of US-centric egotism. Or maybe it's that my daily life is so full of work and school, that I have little brain left with which to think of anything besides what I hear on NPR news, or what gets discussed on the Exponent II blog and list serve.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Day 18
A "huh?" kind of day. For class, we met in a cafe across the street. I understand it happens from time to time when they run out of rooms. Anyway, fun cafe/bar, but the a/c was on, and it was freezing. A bonus is that we get to order drinks on the house. During the break, I showed Pranali my photos of Fountainebleau, and everyone seemed excited to find out about it.
After class, I headed back to the apartment to drop off my school folder, and get a bite to eat. Then, I was off to the Musee Carnavalet. Passed by the jewelry shop to try on the neckace, but it was closed. It's Monday, so I shouldn't have been surprised. It also should have served as a foreshadowing element, since the Museum was also closed. Urgh. Anyway, on my way back, I stopped at the Franprix, and got some of the large shopping bags, to make into a mat to use when I take a nap in the sunshine at a large chateau. It happened at Fontainebleau. It could happen again. Right? Also stopped by the Monoprix on the way, and bought some of the small jars of mustard a l'ancienne (which are the really grainy ones), and some more creme du marrone in tubes.
Back to the apartment again, to drop stuff off. Headed out to the Bibliotec Francois Mitterand. Interesting architecture. Four buildings set up like four corners, with a plaza between, and a deep recessed garden area on the middle. Maybe it's a nice place to soak up some rays on a sunny day, but it also looked like the space wasn't well utilized. Thought a out going over to the nearby park, and checking out the Simone de Beauvoir bridge. But then I remembered the English open mike night out to the east. On a whim, I headed out there. Found it easily enough, but I was early, and I couldn't see anything that resembled wha t I'd hoped to find. I walked around the block. And then again. I saw a McDonalds, and toyed with the idea of buying something just to use the wifi, but I felt restless and cagey, so I walked around the block again. It was getting close to 9:30, so I hung around across the street, watching the Euro cup game between Spain and ? through the window of a bar. Kept checking back at the Au Chat Noir, but it seemed to be dying down, and the people who were staying, were watching the game as well. Finally, tired of breathing smoky air, I headed home. Lesson learned. Mondays are for going to the park or gardens!
After class, I headed back to the apartment to drop off my school folder, and get a bite to eat. Then, I was off to the Musee Carnavalet. Passed by the jewelry shop to try on the neckace, but it was closed. It's Monday, so I shouldn't have been surprised. It also should have served as a foreshadowing element, since the Museum was also closed. Urgh. Anyway, on my way back, I stopped at the Franprix, and got some of the large shopping bags, to make into a mat to use when I take a nap in the sunshine at a large chateau. It happened at Fontainebleau. It could happen again. Right? Also stopped by the Monoprix on the way, and bought some of the small jars of mustard a l'ancienne (which are the really grainy ones), and some more creme du marrone in tubes.
Back to the apartment again, to drop stuff off. Headed out to the Bibliotec Francois Mitterand. Interesting architecture. Four buildings set up like four corners, with a plaza between, and a deep recessed garden area on the middle. Maybe it's a nice place to soak up some rays on a sunny day, but it also looked like the space wasn't well utilized. Thought a out going over to the nearby park, and checking out the Simone de Beauvoir bridge. But then I remembered the English open mike night out to the east. On a whim, I headed out there. Found it easily enough, but I was early, and I couldn't see anything that resembled wha t I'd hoped to find. I walked around the block. And then again. I saw a McDonalds, and toyed with the idea of buying something just to use the wifi, but I felt restless and cagey, so I walked around the block again. It was getting close to 9:30, so I hung around across the street, watching the Euro cup game between Spain and ? through the window of a bar. Kept checking back at the Au Chat Noir, but it seemed to be dying down, and the people who were staying, were watching the game as well. Finally, tired of breathing smoky air, I headed home. Lesson learned. Mondays are for going to the park or gardens!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Day 17
The slow Internet is killing me. It might be time to find the nearest McDonalds or Starbucks and do all my surfing there. If the Internet had been working, I would have been able to find out that the nearest church met at 09:30. Oh well, maybe next week?
Found out that Aida is playing at Fountainebleau (in the open air) next Friday and Saturday. Dont know what the sound would be like, but I'm intrigued. It may be possible to go for the Friday night showing, and stay the night in the town, since the trains stop well before the end of the opera. But because of the slow Internet, it was impossible to find information.
Got out to Odeon to meet Pranali, and we walked all the way back toward my place before heading south on Rue Monge toward the market at Rue Moffuetard. Simply charming. We heard some chanson singing, and watched an older couple do a bit of dancing (tango?). There were people handing out lyrics, so I even got to sing along for a bit. Since I have eaten hardly any fruits this trip, I bought a kilo of rainier cherries. It's strange to have the vendor take my order, because I really had no idea how voluminous a kilo of cherries is. Frankly, it's quite a lot, especially considering that cherries have a laxative effect!
Turns out that Pranali is still short on funds, and wasn't able to go out to Fountainebleau. Another friend arranged to meet her at Mouffetard, and I hung around a bit to keep Pranali company. Then, back to the apartment. Packed a little lunch (cherries, butter, baguette, chocolate), then I was off to Fountainebleau. So nice that one can get there with the Navigo pass. Really, it's one of the best things I've bought in Paris.
Walked up to Hotel de Ville, and took the 1 to Gare de Lyon. Arrived, and miraculously found a seat in the terminal. However, when I looked up at the departures board, it was to find that the Sncf train to the chateau was leaving in 6 minutes. Hustled over, and found a seat (yay!), and had a little time for writing.
More later ...
Found out that Aida is playing at Fountainebleau (in the open air) next Friday and Saturday. Dont know what the sound would be like, but I'm intrigued. It may be possible to go for the Friday night showing, and stay the night in the town, since the trains stop well before the end of the opera. But because of the slow Internet, it was impossible to find information.
Got out to Odeon to meet Pranali, and we walked all the way back toward my place before heading south on Rue Monge toward the market at Rue Moffuetard. Simply charming. We heard some chanson singing, and watched an older couple do a bit of dancing (tango?). There were people handing out lyrics, so I even got to sing along for a bit. Since I have eaten hardly any fruits this trip, I bought a kilo of rainier cherries. It's strange to have the vendor take my order, because I really had no idea how voluminous a kilo of cherries is. Frankly, it's quite a lot, especially considering that cherries have a laxative effect!
Turns out that Pranali is still short on funds, and wasn't able to go out to Fountainebleau. Another friend arranged to meet her at Mouffetard, and I hung around a bit to keep Pranali company. Then, back to the apartment. Packed a little lunch (cherries, butter, baguette, chocolate), then I was off to Fountainebleau. So nice that one can get there with the Navigo pass. Really, it's one of the best things I've bought in Paris.
Walked up to Hotel de Ville, and took the 1 to Gare de Lyon. Arrived, and miraculously found a seat in the terminal. However, when I looked up at the departures board, it was to find that the Sncf train to the chateau was leaving in 6 minutes. Hustled over, and found a seat (yay!), and had a little time for writing.
More later ...
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Day 16
Where has the time gone? I can't believe that my time is already more than half over! And I'm behind on blogging. I think it's time to just focus on writing each day as it happens, and posting it when the Internet is functioning at a bearable speed. As for posting photos, it will have to wait.
This morning, I got home at around 05:00. For the story, read the post for yesterday, when I have time to to write it. Suffice to say, that after a shower, I collapsed into bed.
I didn't sleep as long as I'd planned, but it was middle-ish. Too late to go to the Maubert open air market, but too early to go to meet Pranali. Instead of blogging, as I should have, I surfed around on the Internet. I finally started to get my act together, and tried to register to buy our tickets online, but I couldn't get a hold of Pranali on the phone, and I wasn't 100% sure that she was coming, or if she would qualify for the student rate. In the end, I didn't do it.
Of course, it was raining, when I left the apartment. Started getting worse when I arrived at BHV. Of course, I was early, so I shopped around a little. Pranali got to the meeting spot a little late, and in my head, I formed backup plans. The rain was still going hard when we finally met up, and it didn't look promising for the weather to improve enough for fireworks. So, we scrapped that plan, and headed over to E. Dehillerin (dehillerin.com), after a quick stop at my place for my map and discount coupon.
I've passed by the shop a few times, and visited it on the Bellies on Foot tour the other day. Dehillerin is a famous cookware shop that was founded in 1820, in Les Halles. It's definitely a feast for the eyes of anyone who loves to cook, or even just loves cooking utensils. Amazing range of pots, pans, knives, rolling pins, baking forms, porcelain ware, and copper wares. The one thing that held me back was that very few of the items have the price listed. So, if you want something, you have to find a salesperson, who then looks up the item on an old fashioned flip chart, and tells it to you. And even though I absolutely fell on love with some copper pots on the wall (about the size of a volleyball, but a little taller, and absolutely round on the bottom, so I have no idea what they are used for), I was too inhibited to ask someone for the price, knowing it would probably be more than I wanted to pay. The sad thing is that I couldn't find a curvy sauce pan, like the one I had a while ago. I like curved and well-rounded cookware. Didn't end up buying anything today. But I have a few ideas percolating in my head.
Lunch at a sushi place in Les Halles. I know ... sushi? But it was a compromise. I laughed when I saw that the gyoza were called "ravioli japonais."
Walked on Rue Montorgueil, and stopped in at the Storer bakery to see if they had the criollo cake. Yes! Score!
Walked up to boulevard that is alternatively labeled as Haussmann, Montremartre, Poissonniere, Bonne Nouvelle, St. Denis, and St. Martin. All in about 5 inches of map space. Seems like a street with an identity crisis. Walked along a bit and found the Passages de Panoramas. It sounded grand on paper, but the reality was a little less exciting. Although it looked like a stamp collector's heaven.
Continued walking down toward the Grand Magasins. Walked through the Galleries Lafayette, but it was annoyingly crowded with rude tourists. The gourmet food floor was a little better, but I still haven't found mustard ancienne in small containers yet. Maybe the ones at the Monoprix will work. Bought some bee pollen, which came in a jar, and looked like little balls of yellow, because they were intriguing. Again, lots of ideas percolating in my mind, but very little I the way of purchases.
Quick look through the housewares area. Found a few smaller prints of some artwork that I like, and am considering.
And then, I was beat. Pranali and I plan to meet in the morning, to go to an open air market near my apartment, and then maybe I will attend church, if I can get the Internet to work, enough to find the local congregation information.
Back to Maubert. The boulangerie was closed, so I stopped in at the market. A desire for a baguette for the morning, turned into a baguette, yogurt, capers, those tender lettuce leaflets that I love, lemon juice, olive oil, eggplant spread, and goat cheese. Suffice to say that I ate a good dinner tonight. Not quite as delicious as Alex's grand creation, but well for my singular efforts for just myself.
This morning, I got home at around 05:00. For the story, read the post for yesterday, when I have time to to write it. Suffice to say, that after a shower, I collapsed into bed.
I didn't sleep as long as I'd planned, but it was middle-ish. Too late to go to the Maubert open air market, but too early to go to meet Pranali. Instead of blogging, as I should have, I surfed around on the Internet. I finally started to get my act together, and tried to register to buy our tickets online, but I couldn't get a hold of Pranali on the phone, and I wasn't 100% sure that she was coming, or if she would qualify for the student rate. In the end, I didn't do it.
Of course, it was raining, when I left the apartment. Started getting worse when I arrived at BHV. Of course, I was early, so I shopped around a little. Pranali got to the meeting spot a little late, and in my head, I formed backup plans. The rain was still going hard when we finally met up, and it didn't look promising for the weather to improve enough for fireworks. So, we scrapped that plan, and headed over to E. Dehillerin (dehillerin.com), after a quick stop at my place for my map and discount coupon.
I've passed by the shop a few times, and visited it on the Bellies on Foot tour the other day. Dehillerin is a famous cookware shop that was founded in 1820, in Les Halles. It's definitely a feast for the eyes of anyone who loves to cook, or even just loves cooking utensils. Amazing range of pots, pans, knives, rolling pins, baking forms, porcelain ware, and copper wares. The one thing that held me back was that very few of the items have the price listed. So, if you want something, you have to find a salesperson, who then looks up the item on an old fashioned flip chart, and tells it to you. And even though I absolutely fell on love with some copper pots on the wall (about the size of a volleyball, but a little taller, and absolutely round on the bottom, so I have no idea what they are used for), I was too inhibited to ask someone for the price, knowing it would probably be more than I wanted to pay. The sad thing is that I couldn't find a curvy sauce pan, like the one I had a while ago. I like curved and well-rounded cookware. Didn't end up buying anything today. But I have a few ideas percolating in my head.
Lunch at a sushi place in Les Halles. I know ... sushi? But it was a compromise. I laughed when I saw that the gyoza were called "ravioli japonais."
Walked on Rue Montorgueil, and stopped in at the Storer bakery to see if they had the criollo cake. Yes! Score!
Walked up to boulevard that is alternatively labeled as Haussmann, Montremartre, Poissonniere, Bonne Nouvelle, St. Denis, and St. Martin. All in about 5 inches of map space. Seems like a street with an identity crisis. Walked along a bit and found the Passages de Panoramas. It sounded grand on paper, but the reality was a little less exciting. Although it looked like a stamp collector's heaven.
Continued walking down toward the Grand Magasins. Walked through the Galleries Lafayette, but it was annoyingly crowded with rude tourists. The gourmet food floor was a little better, but I still haven't found mustard ancienne in small containers yet. Maybe the ones at the Monoprix will work. Bought some bee pollen, which came in a jar, and looked like little balls of yellow, because they were intriguing. Again, lots of ideas percolating in my mind, but very little I the way of purchases.
Quick look through the housewares area. Found a few smaller prints of some artwork that I like, and am considering.
And then, I was beat. Pranali and I plan to meet in the morning, to go to an open air market near my apartment, and then maybe I will attend church, if I can get the Internet to work, enough to find the local congregation information.
Back to Maubert. The boulangerie was closed, so I stopped in at the market. A desire for a baguette for the morning, turned into a baguette, yogurt, capers, those tender lettuce leaflets that I love, lemon juice, olive oil, eggplant spread, and goat cheese. Suffice to say that I ate a good dinner tonight. Not quite as delicious as Alex's grand creation, but well for my singular efforts for just myself.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Day 15
What did I do today? Ahh, walking tour of the Marais. Sadly, the Picasso museum is closed until 2013. Tried on some velvet jackets at a vintage store. Surprisingly, many of them fit. But, none of them fit well enough to buy. So, onward I went. Bought some small spoons for a dinner party . I love to put together platters of crackers, cheese, prosciutto, and jellies, so the spoons will do perfectly for the jellies. Still looking for some small knives that I can use with the cheeses.
Got back to my place, and had a little time to get cleaned up and prepared for dancing. I couldn't believe that it was coming together. Got out to the RER B, and waited for the train. And waited. And waited some more. For twenty minutes, none of the scheduled trains arrived. I stated to panic, and tried to find another way to get out to the meeting place, but all of the other lines were going to be too late. In the end, the B did come, and I worried all the way on it, and on the connecting train. Got out to the right place, and Karine whistled me over. Karine was there, as well as Fabio (guy from Miami), Jean Paul (nice, skinny, short, Asian guy), Celine (different one, she's a really clean dancer, who is also surprisingly expressive), and Jerome. Jerome is tall, pretty good looking, and very French. What I mean, is that he seems to be rather irritable and opinionated. Apparently he is taking a break from working, and will be traveling in the US, following the westie competition trail. His English is very good, and he doesn't like it when Americans try to talk to him in French. Well, okay then. Really, he became much more animated throughout the night, and I was very grateful for the ride.
Lots of fun at the event. A live band played about a third of the night. Jerome and Fabio groused a bit on the ride home about how the music was too slow to dance to, but I thought that it was fine. Depends on who you dance with, and how much the lead wants to dictate, or share the dance. Maxence Martin was amazing, as was a French girl that looked like a Meg Ryan copy. She danced so naturally, almost as if it was like breathing for her. I danced a little. It's difficult,since I have the shoulder thing I have to dance with guys who won't break me. And, I would rather not dance, than have a bad dance. Anyway, I did dance with about 8 different guys. Not as much as I wanted, but not as little as I feared.
Left around 04:00. Yup, Jerome was the type to stay till the end. He dropped Fabio and me off at Porte d'Orleans, and we shared a cab up to St. Michel. Got back to my place, and collapsed.
Got back to my place, and had a little time to get cleaned up and prepared for dancing. I couldn't believe that it was coming together. Got out to the RER B, and waited for the train. And waited. And waited some more. For twenty minutes, none of the scheduled trains arrived. I stated to panic, and tried to find another way to get out to the meeting place, but all of the other lines were going to be too late. In the end, the B did come, and I worried all the way on it, and on the connecting train. Got out to the right place, and Karine whistled me over. Karine was there, as well as Fabio (guy from Miami), Jean Paul (nice, skinny, short, Asian guy), Celine (different one, she's a really clean dancer, who is also surprisingly expressive), and Jerome. Jerome is tall, pretty good looking, and very French. What I mean, is that he seems to be rather irritable and opinionated. Apparently he is taking a break from working, and will be traveling in the US, following the westie competition trail. His English is very good, and he doesn't like it when Americans try to talk to him in French. Well, okay then. Really, he became much more animated throughout the night, and I was very grateful for the ride.
Lots of fun at the event. A live band played about a third of the night. Jerome and Fabio groused a bit on the ride home about how the music was too slow to dance to, but I thought that it was fine. Depends on who you dance with, and how much the lead wants to dictate, or share the dance. Maxence Martin was amazing, as was a French girl that looked like a Meg Ryan copy. She danced so naturally, almost as if it was like breathing for her. I danced a little. It's difficult,since I have the shoulder thing I have to dance with guys who won't break me. And, I would rather not dance, than have a bad dance. Anyway, I did dance with about 8 different guys. Not as much as I wanted, but not as little as I feared.
Left around 04:00. Yup, Jerome was the type to stay till the end. He dropped Fabio and me off at Porte d'Orleans, and we shared a cab up to St. Michel. Got back to my place, and collapsed.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Day 13
Walking tour of Montmartre. Intermittent sun, so I only took my red pashmina and umbrella (just in case).
I love the Abbesses metro exit. It's one of two glass and iron covered metro stations left in Paris. However, I do not love the stairs. There are lots of them. More than the catacombs. Apparently only the tourists take the stairs. I wondered where all the other people were, who had exited the metro with me. Yup, they were on the elevators.
The day was lovely. I sometimes draped my shawl around my shoulders, but often had to put it away because the sun was out. Amazing! Yes, Virginia, the sun *does* shine in Paris! Also, there were stairs. Lots of them. Good thing I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere.
My tour took me past the Bateau Lavoir (home to Picasso, Modigliani, and a passle of others during the early 1900's); the Moulins Galette, Radet, and Blue-Fin (frequented by Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Van Gough); the Clos Montmartre vineyard; the Au Lapin Agile (frequented by Picasso and Renoir); the Jardin Sauvage St. Vincent (which was closed, so I only peeped through the gates); passed by the Montmartre Museum (which I visited the last time I was in Paris); and of course Sacre Coeur. I stayed in SC for a while, just enjoying the quiet. Walked around to see the mosaics, and sat for a while contemplating the large painting at the front. I like almost everything about it, except Jesus' face. Hmmmm.
Nuns in white habits, with black headdresses started passing out parcels of paper, so I decided to stay a bit longer. A bishop (I'm guessing here) came out, as well as about 8-10 nuns. For the next twenty or so minutes, there was a singing service. The bishop spoke only occasionally, and just for a few lines. It was the nuns who ran this portion. Some solos, but mostly they sang as a group. And in some parts, the congregation stood up and joined in the singing. The voices weren't the best I've ever heard, but the service was lovely. This reminded me of my favorite church service. One Sunday in December, Margot Martin had a singing service. No speakers, just singing Christmas carols from the hymnal. So wonderful. I wish that all services had more singing, and less talking.
When I got up to leave, it was cold outside, and loads of people were crowded under the porticoes. Why? Because it was raining cats and dogs. I went back in the church and sat for a while longer. There was an imposing usher who found people taking pictures inside the church, and escorted them out. Sometimes he was a little rough. Understandable, since there are sign everywhere about not taking photos inside the church.
Well, I finally got tired of sitting, and just went outside. And started walking. Soon enough, the rain will stop, right? Well, it did. Eventually. But not until after I got back to my apartment. C'est la vie! The one nice thing about the rain is that there were no tourists cluttering up my photos of SC, from the bottom of the park. There's always a ray of sunshine, even when it rains.
I love the Abbesses metro exit. It's one of two glass and iron covered metro stations left in Paris. However, I do not love the stairs. There are lots of them. More than the catacombs. Apparently only the tourists take the stairs. I wondered where all the other people were, who had exited the metro with me. Yup, they were on the elevators.
The day was lovely. I sometimes draped my shawl around my shoulders, but often had to put it away because the sun was out. Amazing! Yes, Virginia, the sun *does* shine in Paris! Also, there were stairs. Lots of them. Good thing I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere.
My tour took me past the Bateau Lavoir (home to Picasso, Modigliani, and a passle of others during the early 1900's); the Moulins Galette, Radet, and Blue-Fin (frequented by Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Van Gough); the Clos Montmartre vineyard; the Au Lapin Agile (frequented by Picasso and Renoir); the Jardin Sauvage St. Vincent (which was closed, so I only peeped through the gates); passed by the Montmartre Museum (which I visited the last time I was in Paris); and of course Sacre Coeur. I stayed in SC for a while, just enjoying the quiet. Walked around to see the mosaics, and sat for a while contemplating the large painting at the front. I like almost everything about it, except Jesus' face. Hmmmm.
Nuns in white habits, with black headdresses started passing out parcels of paper, so I decided to stay a bit longer. A bishop (I'm guessing here) came out, as well as about 8-10 nuns. For the next twenty or so minutes, there was a singing service. The bishop spoke only occasionally, and just for a few lines. It was the nuns who ran this portion. Some solos, but mostly they sang as a group. And in some parts, the congregation stood up and joined in the singing. The voices weren't the best I've ever heard, but the service was lovely. This reminded me of my favorite church service. One Sunday in December, Margot Martin had a singing service. No speakers, just singing Christmas carols from the hymnal. So wonderful. I wish that all services had more singing, and less talking.
When I got up to leave, it was cold outside, and loads of people were crowded under the porticoes. Why? Because it was raining cats and dogs.
Well, I finally got tired of sitting, and just went outside. And started walking. Soon enough, the rain will stop, right? Well, it did. Eventually. But not until after I got back to my apartment. C'est la vie! The one nice thing about the rain is that there were no tourists cluttering up my photos of SC, from the bottom of the park. There's always a ray of sunshine, even when it rains.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Day 12
During class, when we talked about what we did during our yesterday, I mentioned that I was planning on going out to Vaux le Vicomte on Saturday, for the candlelight evening, and the fireworks. Seems like I was the only one who knew about it. Anyway, after class, Pranali asked if I'd be interested in going out to lunch. Bien sur! To a cafe near her apartment new Les Halles. Pranali is quite young. Indeed, she's young enough to be my daughter, if I'd started really, really young. But she's quite lively, and fun to chat with. From Hong Kong, she's quadrilingual (Hindi, Cantonese, English, and Spanish). I don't know how she keeps it all straight in her head!
After lunch, she tagged along with me, as I discovered my new favorite museum in Paris. I don't know how I missed going to the Musee Carnavalet the last time I was here, but I'm so glad that I found it this time. The museum chronicles the history of Paris, and the permanent exhibitions and the gardens are free! Currently, there is an exhibition by Thomas Bilanges, and I think it's brilliant. He took photo portraits of 143 museum employees (from head curator to gardener to intern), and photos of their favorite portraits in the museum. He the scaled them to size, and created a dyptich, which I guess is a fancy word for two images side by side. It's a lovely representation of the staff, and the artwork that pulls them. I'm considering buying the book, since it's a great review of the charming portraits in this museum.
I just found the painting collection charming. The style of painting, the focus on Paris, the models of the city, the abundance of portraits that tell a story about the subject. The gardens are also quite beautiful, if small. I foresee that I will spend a lot of time here, rain or shine. I will definitely return and see the Atget exhbiti, and pony up for the audioguide, for a more indept study. Plus, the museum seems to go on forever.
Walked with Pranali to Les Halles, to take the metro down for another visit to Maison Larnicol. What a scene! Shops galore, myriad people rushing about. I had no idea that the temporary walls housed so much. Had spent the majority of the day dry, and had anticipated going for a walk after finishing the remnants of Alex's last bit of chefery. However, as I stood in the line at Larnicol, it started pouring rain. Not just spitting, but actual pouring. Good thing I'd carried my umbrella around, even though it's one of the things I groan about. Really, the weather in Paris is constantly changing.
Quick stop at the boulongere for a fresh baguette. After I got myself and my damp shoes (!!!!!) home, I supped and surfed. Twenty minutes later, the rain had spent itself. But I was really well into dinner, and decided to stay in. After my dinner, I had dessert. No, not the chocolates. Baguette and butter. Absolutely divine.
After lunch, she tagged along with me, as I discovered my new favorite museum in Paris. I don't know how I missed going to the Musee Carnavalet the last time I was here, but I'm so glad that I found it this time. The museum chronicles the history of Paris, and the permanent exhibitions and the gardens are free! Currently, there is an exhibition by Thomas Bilanges, and I think it's brilliant. He took photo portraits of 143 museum employees (from head curator to gardener to intern), and photos of their favorite portraits in the museum. He the scaled them to size, and created a dyptich, which I guess is a fancy word for two images side by side. It's a lovely representation of the staff, and the artwork that pulls them. I'm considering buying the book, since it's a great review of the charming portraits in this museum.
I just found the painting collection charming. The style of painting, the focus on Paris, the models of the city, the abundance of portraits that tell a story about the subject. The gardens are also quite beautiful, if small. I foresee that I will spend a lot of time here, rain or shine. I will definitely return and see the Atget exhbiti, and pony up for the audioguide, for a more indept study. Plus, the museum seems to go on forever.
Walked with Pranali to Les Halles, to take the metro down for another visit to Maison Larnicol. What a scene! Shops galore, myriad people rushing about. I had no idea that the temporary walls housed so much. Had spent the majority of the day dry, and had anticipated going for a walk after finishing the remnants of Alex's last bit of chefery. However, as I stood in the line at Larnicol, it started pouring rain. Not just spitting, but actual pouring. Good thing I'd carried my umbrella around, even though it's one of the things I groan about. Really, the weather in Paris is constantly changing.
Quick stop at the boulongere for a fresh baguette. After I got myself and my damp shoes (!!!!!) home, I supped and surfed. Twenty minutes later, the rain had spent itself. But I was really well into dinner, and decided to stay in. After my dinner, I had dessert. No, not the chocolates. Baguette and butter. Absolutely divine.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Day 11
After class, I headed over to BHV. Wandered through all of the floors. Yes, even the hardware section on the bottom floor. Just fascinating. Ended up buying some buttons and leather cording to make a necklace.
Wandered through the touristy sections around St. Michel, to look for an appropriate Eiffel Tower snow globe for a young Francophile. Lots of options. Lots of tacky options. Well, as I'm fond of saying, it's good to have options ...
Spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening making a list. A long list. Often hindered in the making by a recalcitrantly slow Internet connection. However, now I know which page on my Pauline Frommer guide the info is on, and where on my street map the establishment it, and when it's open. Also emailed it to myself, so that there would be no repetitions of the cut-and-what?!?!? episode. Got to sleep around 01:00. Oy!
Place des vosges, frommer 147 -wt 2
Place vendome, frommer 149, E7, metro Tuileries or Concorde
Musee carnavalet, frommer 150, wt 2, F9, free, Tu-Sun, closes 1800.
Musee des monaies, medailles et antiques, f 158, D7, free, M-F 13-1730
Maison de victor Hugo, f 162, F9, free, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Maison de Balzac, f 162, F3, free, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Musee marmottan Monet, f 166, E2, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Musee des lettres, f 168, F7, Wed 13-1900, Thu-Sun 10-1800
Musee de Montmartre, f 172, wt 3
Palais royal, f 177, E7
Jardin des plantes, f214, free, G9
Parc monceau, f216, free, C5
Promenade plante, f217, free, converted train tracks, G10
Jardin tino Rossi, f217 open air sculptures, dancing, wt 1, G9
Parc Andre Citroen, f218, G3
Parc de bercy, f220, H10
Sacre coeur, wt 3, B8
Passages de panoramas, f254, covered arcade, D8
Le Bon marche magasin, F6
la grande epicerie supermarket, f257, F6
Lafayette maison, sh for housewares, f 258, D7, across from galaxies Lafayette, bring passport for 10% discount at welcome desk
Monoprix, like target? F258, E7
Marche aux puces de paris st. Open, f261, A8
Map de la Porte de Vanves, f261, I5, Sat-Sun 07-1300
Promod, f264, G6
Chocolate, A la mere de famille, f268, F6, QD 1930, except Sun
Cooking tools, f271,
La Vaissellerie, F9, Mon-Sat, close 1900
La maison de la porcelaine, D8
Paradis porcelaine, D8
Le Parthenon, jewelry, f271, G8
Wandered through the touristy sections around St. Michel, to look for an appropriate Eiffel Tower snow globe for a young Francophile. Lots of options. Lots of tacky options. Well, as I'm fond of saying, it's good to have options ...
Spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening making a list. A long list. Often hindered in the making by a recalcitrantly slow Internet connection. However, now I know which page on my Pauline Frommer guide the info is on, and where on my street map the establishment it, and when it's open. Also emailed it to myself, so that there would be no repetitions of the cut-and-what?!?!? episode. Got to sleep around 01:00. Oy!
Place des vosges, frommer 147 -wt 2
Place vendome, frommer 149, E7, metro Tuileries or Concorde
Musee carnavalet, frommer 150, wt 2, F9, free, Tu-Sun, closes 1800.
Musee des monaies, medailles et antiques, f 158, D7, free, M-F 13-1730
Maison de victor Hugo, f 162, F9, free, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Maison de Balzac, f 162, F3, free, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Musee marmottan Monet, f 166, E2, Tue-Sun, 10-1800
Musee des lettres, f 168, F7, Wed 13-1900, Thu-Sun 10-1800
Musee de Montmartre, f 172, wt 3
Palais royal, f 177, E7
Jardin des plantes, f214, free, G9
Parc monceau, f216, free, C5
Promenade plante, f217, free, converted train tracks, G10
Jardin tino Rossi, f217 open air sculptures, dancing, wt 1, G9
Parc Andre Citroen, f218, G3
Parc de bercy, f220, H10
Sacre coeur, wt 3, B8
Passages de panoramas, f254, covered arcade, D8
Le Bon marche magasin, F6
la grande epicerie supermarket, f257, F6
Lafayette maison, sh for housewares, f 258, D7, across from galaxies Lafayette, bring passport for 10% discount at welcome desk
Monoprix, like target? F258, E7
Marche aux puces de paris st. Open, f261, A8
Map de la Porte de Vanves, f261, I5, Sat-Sun 07-1300
Promod, f264, G6
Chocolate, A la mere de famille, f268, F6, QD 1930, except Sun
Cooking tools, f271,
La Vaissellerie, F9, Mon-Sat, close 1900
La maison de la porcelaine, D8
Paradis porcelaine, D8
Le Parthenon, jewelry, f271, G8
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Day 10
To the catacombs this morning. We were there before 10:00, but so were a lot of other people. The line inched forward at about a meter a minute. Painful. We finally got in about a quarter after 11:00, a little later than ideal. Anyway, after waiting in line for so long, we thought that we should do it. So, raced down the 134 spiral steps as fast as a tinge of vertigo would let me, and entered l'empire de la mort. Apparently the poor people were buried in mass graves in Paris. The decomposition process was aided by lime, which worked its way into the well water. So, starting in 1786, the bones were moved by wagons covered in black cloth, preceded by a priest. It took about 2 years to get the majority of the work done. And now, there are these macabre caverns through which the adventurous traveler can ramble. Most of the surfaces visible to tourists are made of skulls and the ends of long bones. Makes me wonder about how generations far into the future will view our current burial traditions. For myself, I'd rather be an organ donor, donate my body to science, or be cremated, in that order.
Finally got to the end, which meant the beginning of the 83 steps up. I did well at first, then started to get tired. Then, just as I was about to take a breathe, I saw the bottom of a doorway, and raced to the finish. Whew!
When we got on the train, I reiterated to Alex that he should probably make a run for it when we got back to St. Michel, and not to worry about leaving me behind. In the end, I was got back to rue Frederic Sauton just as he was leaving, and we had a farewell hug.
Well, on my own again. No one to cook me dinner, or bounce ideas off of, but this also means that I can shorten the bed and keep all the doors open in the tiny studio. Did the rearranging, and took a much needed nap.
Out dancing tonight at Jardin d'Alfortville. Remarkably, this place is easy to get to, and I took the RER D, without having to transfer or pay any extra fees. Danced with lots of great guys, and had some interesting conversation with a tiny Asian woman with blonde hair, who was incredibly slinky. I want to be slinky. It's a good thing. Incredibly, I also met up with Celine again. Well, probably not incredible, but a great thing. She was the one who initially helped me register for the WCS event four years ago, and signed me up to receive emails about these swing events in Paris. She is so nice, and seems to be universally liked. Also, she gets people together. For instance, we were walking out at the same time, and when she heard that I was taking the metro home, she asked around to find someone who could give me a ride to a more convenient station. She's a facilitator. I want to be a better facilitator. Also met Fabio. Well, at least that is the French name that he is currently traveling with. His French is quite good, and I mistook him for a native speaker. But, he is from Miami, and looks to be taking a gap year to travel. Through Europe until the winter, the heading to southwest Asia and New Zealand. With a pair of dancing shoes! The great thing about dancing is that it's a community, that gives members an entryway into foreign places. Just love it.
Got home around 22:30, and am. Just waiting for the laundry to finish so that I can hang it up to dry before going to bed. In the meantime, I had a wonderful dinner of leftovers to quell the beast within. Thanks Alex!
Finally got to the end, which meant the beginning of the 83 steps up. I did well at first, then started to get tired. Then, just as I was about to take a breathe, I saw the bottom of a doorway, and raced to the finish. Whew!
When we got on the train, I reiterated to Alex that he should probably make a run for it when we got back to St. Michel, and not to worry about leaving me behind. In the end, I was got back to rue Frederic Sauton just as he was leaving, and we had a farewell hug.
Well, on my own again. No one to cook me dinner, or bounce ideas off of, but this also means that I can shorten the bed and keep all the doors open in the tiny studio. Did the rearranging, and took a much needed nap.
Out dancing tonight at Jardin d'Alfortville. Remarkably, this place is easy to get to, and I took the RER D, without having to transfer or pay any extra fees. Danced with lots of great guys, and had some interesting conversation with a tiny Asian woman with blonde hair, who was incredibly slinky. I want to be slinky. It's a good thing. Incredibly, I also met up with Celine again. Well, probably not incredible, but a great thing. She was the one who initially helped me register for the WCS event four years ago, and signed me up to receive emails about these swing events in Paris. She is so nice, and seems to be universally liked. Also, she gets people together. For instance, we were walking out at the same time, and when she heard that I was taking the metro home, she asked around to find someone who could give me a ride to a more convenient station. She's a facilitator. I want to be a better facilitator. Also met Fabio. Well, at least that is the French name that he is currently traveling with. His French is quite good, and I mistook him for a native speaker. But, he is from Miami, and looks to be taking a gap year to travel. Through Europe until the winter, the heading to southwest Asia and New Zealand. With a pair of dancing shoes! The great thing about dancing is that it's a community, that gives members an entryway into foreign places. Just love it.
Got home around 22:30, and am. Just waiting for the laundry to finish so that I can hang it up to dry before going to bed. In the meantime, I had a wonderful dinner of leftovers to quell the beast within. Thanks Alex!
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Day 9
crème de marrons.
Wait ... What?
Everything that I just typed into the note, and thought I copied? Well, I actually deleted it. All that poped up was creme de marrons. Boo! The retelling will have to wait until tomorrow.
Crazy morning, trying to make calls to Medtronic. During the middle of the night, I happened to check my blood sugar. 150 = great. Tried to enter it into my pump. Got to 150, and it wouldn't stop. Kept scrolling upward. The only was I could exit was to take out the battery. I kep doing this for about 15 minutes, until I got the message, "button error." No kidding. As if I couldn't have figured out that the buttons were going crazy. Ended up getting out my spare pump, which is a really stripped down one, setting it up, and going back to sleep.
In the morning, I called Medtronic. Firstly, I loathe talking on the phone. There are certain exceptions, but they are few and far between. Second, I loathe trying to dial internationally. Third, the phone would occassionally go silent, even though the call timer was still ticking on. Needless to say, when Parisian Home looks at the phone bill, they are probably going to wonder why I made so many calls to the same number, in such a short period of time. Anyway, finally got the situation settled, and Lee said that they would send me a new pump. I gave him the apartment phone number (this took. A few times, until I was sure that I got all the dialing codes right), and told him to send it to the rental agency, since I don't know how to explain to a courier how to get to my place. That settled, I could finally get on to enjoying the Saturday.
We decided to go to Amiens. Well, that is, until we got to Gare du Nord, and found out that the train tickets cost 41 euro each. Fumbled about for ideas, until we found a McDonald's (I can hear you groaning) where we could use wifi. Had a light and flaky croissant. Only in Paris would Micky D's have a separate pastry section with edible pastries! Looking at the Paris map, we picked Bois du Vincennes as a viable option. Quick stop at an Italian market (on the way to the nearest Carrefort, totally missing the Franprix on the nearest corner) for lunch-able type things, and we were off.
Wandered through a charmingly overgrown section of the park until we got our bearings. Well, Alex got our bearings, and I just enjoyed the morning. Passed by fields where families played, and circumnavigated a small lake before settling on a bench to eat our sandwiches en pleine aire. Talked about church, which I wish was more universally open and less rigid.
More wandering, in the direction of the Chateau. Most times I have to take a second to differentiate between chateau and chalet. Large and impressive on the outside, especially with the grassed-over moat, it was rather cold and grim inside the walls. The restrooms, on the other hand, we're glorious, after trekking through the bushes. The sun came out for a bit, and we enjoyed it for as long as we could. Like Little Miss Muffet, I was visited by a spider, which I quickly flicked away.
Over to the catacombs, but we were ten minutes too late for the last entry. However, we got ourselves to the Cimiterre Montparnasse, and hunted grave sites. Satre and de Beauvoir. Sonia Sontag. Baudelaire. Tried to find Man Ray and Guy de Maupassant, but they eluded us and remained undiscovered. Did happen across a rather serious looking Asian guy, who asked us to take a photo of him with a grave. The inhabitant thereof was Alekhine, a famous chess player. The guy was passing through Paris on the way to somewhere else for work, and staying with family. Quite adorably geeky and earnest. I noted that it was a shame that he didn't have chess pieces for a game, since the grave had a blank chessboard carved on the top. He got very enthusiastic, until Alex noted that it would be considered rude. But really, why not? I read once about a man who wanted, instead of a tombstone, a bench placed under a shady tree, with his and his wife's names carved onto it. A lovely invitation to sit, and contemplate. I'd like to think that Alekhine would have wanted people to pay tribute to his love of the game. Apparently Alekhine was not a natural prodigy, but studied intently for 15 years, and eventually beat the grand masters.
Also ran into and extremely helpful older gentleman. Or maybe I should say that he was extremely eager to be helpful. I understood about two in five of every word he uttered. He wanted to point us in the direction of graves that he thought were particularly interesting. When we would agree, and start to walk, he would then point out something else. He "helped us" for about 20 minutes. Really, he was very nice and one of the more gregarious and cheerful people that I've met in Paris.
Back to the apartment for a brief respite, and then hunger moved us. Since Alex didn't want to go to a restaurant where there was a lot of "faffinf about" over three courses, we checked out a few options. Then, he decided that he'd rather cook. I agreed, as long as I bought the ingredients. So, we retraced our steps to the Franprix, and loaded up a basket; Alex with cookables, I with items from this list. http://cowgirlchef.com/2010/10/19/paris-supermarket-souvenirs/ (darn trying to link to something on this iPad)! Because if I'm going to bring souvenirs, I'd better try them first, right?
Alex cooked a marvelous meal. The best I've had on this trip so far. Salad with freshly stewed tomatoes and squash, apple, cucumber, goat cheese, and almonds. Chicken with lemon rind cut into the skin ,topped with tomatoes and onions, in a sauce a could sop with bread for days. Leeks and mushrooms cooked in creme fraiche. Mashed potatoes (my one contribution to the making of dinner was peeling the potatoes with a knife, as there was no veg peeler)' seasoned with grainy mustard. I was suddenly very envious of all the friends who live near Alex, and can pop over for dinner on any given night.
Wait ... What?
Everything that I just typed into the note, and thought I copied? Well, I actually deleted it. All that poped up was creme de marrons. Boo! The retelling will have to wait until tomorrow.
Crazy morning, trying to make calls to Medtronic. During the middle of the night, I happened to check my blood sugar. 150 = great. Tried to enter it into my pump. Got to 150, and it wouldn't stop. Kept scrolling upward. The only was I could exit was to take out the battery. I kep doing this for about 15 minutes, until I got the message, "button error." No kidding. As if I couldn't have figured out that the buttons were going crazy. Ended up getting out my spare pump, which is a really stripped down one, setting it up, and going back to sleep.
In the morning, I called Medtronic. Firstly, I loathe talking on the phone. There are certain exceptions, but they are few and far between. Second, I loathe trying to dial internationally. Third, the phone would occassionally go silent, even though the call timer was still ticking on. Needless to say, when Parisian Home looks at the phone bill, they are probably going to wonder why I made so many calls to the same number, in such a short period of time. Anyway, finally got the situation settled, and Lee said that they would send me a new pump. I gave him the apartment phone number (this took. A few times, until I was sure that I got all the dialing codes right), and told him to send it to the rental agency, since I don't know how to explain to a courier how to get to my place. That settled, I could finally get on to enjoying the Saturday.
We decided to go to Amiens. Well, that is, until we got to Gare du Nord, and found out that the train tickets cost 41 euro each. Fumbled about for ideas, until we found a McDonald's (I can hear you groaning) where we could use wifi. Had a light and flaky croissant. Only in Paris would Micky D's have a separate pastry section with edible pastries! Looking at the Paris map, we picked Bois du Vincennes as a viable option. Quick stop at an Italian market (on the way to the nearest Carrefort, totally missing the Franprix on the nearest corner) for lunch-able type things, and we were off.
Wandered through a charmingly overgrown section of the park until we got our bearings. Well, Alex got our bearings, and I just enjoyed the morning. Passed by fields where families played, and circumnavigated a small lake before settling on a bench to eat our sandwiches en pleine aire. Talked about church, which I wish was more universally open and less rigid.
More wandering, in the direction of the Chateau. Most times I have to take a second to differentiate between chateau and chalet. Large and impressive on the outside, especially with the grassed-over moat, it was rather cold and grim inside the walls. The restrooms, on the other hand, we're glorious, after trekking through the bushes. The sun came out for a bit, and we enjoyed it for as long as we could. Like Little Miss Muffet, I was visited by a spider, which I quickly flicked away.
Over to the catacombs, but we were ten minutes too late for the last entry. However, we got ourselves to the Cimiterre Montparnasse, and hunted grave sites. Satre and de Beauvoir. Sonia Sontag. Baudelaire. Tried to find Man Ray and Guy de Maupassant, but they eluded us and remained undiscovered. Did happen across a rather serious looking Asian guy, who asked us to take a photo of him with a grave. The inhabitant thereof was Alekhine, a famous chess player. The guy was passing through Paris on the way to somewhere else for work, and staying with family. Quite adorably geeky and earnest. I noted that it was a shame that he didn't have chess pieces for a game, since the grave had a blank chessboard carved on the top. He got very enthusiastic, until Alex noted that it would be considered rude. But really, why not? I read once about a man who wanted, instead of a tombstone, a bench placed under a shady tree, with his and his wife's names carved onto it. A lovely invitation to sit, and contemplate. I'd like to think that Alekhine would have wanted people to pay tribute to his love of the game. Apparently Alekhine was not a natural prodigy, but studied intently for 15 years, and eventually beat the grand masters.
Also ran into and extremely helpful older gentleman. Or maybe I should say that he was extremely eager to be helpful. I understood about two in five of every word he uttered. He wanted to point us in the direction of graves that he thought were particularly interesting. When we would agree, and start to walk, he would then point out something else. He "helped us" for about 20 minutes. Really, he was very nice and one of the more gregarious and cheerful people that I've met in Paris.
Back to the apartment for a brief respite, and then hunger moved us. Since Alex didn't want to go to a restaurant where there was a lot of "faffinf about" over three courses, we checked out a few options. Then, he decided that he'd rather cook. I agreed, as long as I bought the ingredients. So, we retraced our steps to the Franprix, and loaded up a basket; Alex with cookables, I with items from this list. http://cowgirlchef.com/2010/10/19/paris-supermarket-souvenirs/ (darn trying to link to something on this iPad)! Because if I'm going to bring souvenirs, I'd better try them first, right?
Alex cooked a marvelous meal. The best I've had on this trip so far. Salad with freshly stewed tomatoes and squash, apple, cucumber, goat cheese, and almonds. Chicken with lemon rind cut into the skin ,topped with tomatoes and onions, in a sauce a could sop with bread for days. Leeks and mushrooms cooked in creme fraiche. Mashed potatoes (my one contribution to the making of dinner was peeling the potatoes with a knife, as there was no veg peeler)' seasoned with grainy mustard. I was suddenly very envious of all the friends who live near Alex, and can pop over for dinner on any given night.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Day 8
Ack! Where did the time go? Bitty post which I'll flesh out later.
Class. Christine had us converse for a bit. Maybe converse is a generous description. Anyway, after A talked about what a great hit the tubes of creme du maron were back in Japan, I asked what other edibles make good souvenirs. She also vouched the butter (did I read about it on David Leibowitz's blog, or somewhere else?), and we had a discussion about how to legally transport it back to the US.
Last day for Venus and Sean. Out to farewell lunch aftertaste a cafe that opened out onto the Pompidou plaza. Exchanged emails to keep in touch, and found out about Sean's writing,comedy, etc. A's great love story.
BHV for supplies. Folder, hole punch, tape, highlighters, index cards. The index cards were the hardest to find. Rained on way back. The front of my skirt is drenched. At least when I sit down, my butt is dry. Will make vocab and verb conjugation cards. Visual learner.
Sun shining brightly when I left for the Louvre. Winds blew the clouds into a hovering position over Pei's entrance. Wandered a lot. Saw a few things I liked, and lots that didn't touch me at all. Avoided the Richter exhibit. Enjoyed the Rembrandts. Something about chiaroscuro when it's done right. Think I took more pictures from the windows of the Louvre, than I did from out outside. Tried some of the online tours, but they were rubbish.
Sun setting and painting the clouds glorious colors as I exited.
Back to apt.vgot take out from the restaurant downstairs, Le Partages.vmaybe they thought I was crazy, but I was too tired and footsore to eat in the restaurant. Deliciousness. And now, to sleep. No shower. Just sleep.
Class. Christine had us converse for a bit. Maybe converse is a generous description. Anyway, after A talked about what a great hit the tubes of creme du maron were back in Japan, I asked what other edibles make good souvenirs. She also vouched the butter (did I read about it on David Leibowitz's blog, or somewhere else?), and we had a discussion about how to legally transport it back to the US.
Last day for Venus and Sean. Out to farewell lunch aftertaste a cafe that opened out onto the Pompidou plaza. Exchanged emails to keep in touch, and found out about Sean's writing,comedy, etc. A's great love story.
BHV for supplies. Folder, hole punch, tape, highlighters, index cards. The index cards were the hardest to find. Rained on way back. The front of my skirt is drenched. At least when I sit down, my butt is dry. Will make vocab and verb conjugation cards. Visual learner.
Sun shining brightly when I left for the Louvre. Winds blew the clouds into a hovering position over Pei's entrance. Wandered a lot. Saw a few things I liked, and lots that didn't touch me at all. Avoided the Richter exhibit. Enjoyed the Rembrandts. Something about chiaroscuro when it's done right. Think I took more pictures from the windows of the Louvre, than I did from out outside. Tried some of the online tours, but they were rubbish.
Sun setting and painting the clouds glorious colors as I exited.
Back to apt.vgot take out from the restaurant downstairs, Le Partages.vmaybe they thought I was crazy, but I was too tired and footsore to eat in the restaurant. Deliciousness. And now, to sleep. No shower. Just sleep.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Day 7
Today there is a 10% chance that it will not rain. And wunderground forecast thunderstorms. Not a chance of thunderstorms, but actual thunderstorms. Maybe today is a good day to spend the afternoon at the apartment. Or maybe at the Louvre, which is the only place that I can think of that can keep me engrossed for a whole afternoon. Maybe.
After class, I hurried back to do my homework. Maybe I should have headed directly out to the museum instead. I had only been home a few minutes before the heavens opened up and started the bathe the city. I spent a frustrating. It of time trying to find things on google, before concluding that the site must be down. Luckily wiki still worked. Decided on the Pompidou, since it's open until about 22:00, and the Louvre was going to be open that late tomorrow. When I left Maubert, it was sprinkling,, and the came the deluge. My lower pants legs were drenched. It's just as well that I'm wearing thin pants that dry in moments. Although, I am wearing my brown flats. Brown and black. Not chic, but very practical.
When I exited the metro at Rambuteaux, the sun was shining so brightly that I had to shade my eyes. Stopped in at the Brancusi Atelier, since I wanted a glimpse of The Kiss, which was featured in "Avenue Montaigne," a French movie that Janet got me long ago. Like some of the popular movies such as xxx, it follows several seemingly unrelated stories that
all converge, in a charming way.
In to the Matisse exhibit. It's astonishing to learn how deliberate he was about the development of his pieces. Using the same size canvas for the initial works as he intended to us error the final. Doing multiple studies before approaching the final. In 1936, he wrote, "At each stage, I reach a balance, a conclusion. At the next sitting, if I feel a weakness in the whole, I find my way back into the picture by means of the weakness - I re-enter through the breach -and reconceive the whole." What an amazing way to explore. If more people would explore religion and spirituality in this manner, how different would the world be today? Pieces in this exhibit that I enjoyed: "Luxe, Calme, et Volupte," "Pont St. Michel, a Paris, Effet de Neige," "Interiur au Violin," and "Les Marguerites."
Saw the Gerhard Richter exhibit, but it really didn't touch me. The only piece that I rather liked was "June, 1983." Also saw the early 20th century section. Pieces that appealed to me, and I can't remember which section they were in, were: Braque's monochromatic cubist pieces, "La Bal Bullier" by Sonia Delauney, "Traits Hoirs Enroules" (which reminded me of a fairy trapped in the inner ear) and "Autour D'un Point" by Kupka, "Pilier de Metro, 1934" by Brassai, and "Centro de Dominance" by Judit Reigl. Also loved spending time on the terraces of the Pompidou, since the rain is on hiatus, and there are clouds racing with the wind, across the most wonderful blue sky.
One of the wonderful things about the Pompidou is that it is open until past 22:00, so I have time, and don't feel rushed. Too bad it's not occupied by the type of art that I have a natural kinship for. The other wonderful thing is that there are English translations everywhere. One of my big frustrations is that I can't read, or write French well. Every thing seems to move more slowly, when really I want to be able to take it all in an instant. And third, there is free wifi throughout. How fabulous is that?
I spotted a chair in a deserted corner of the museum, in which to write this. When I actually got to the chair, I saw that there was an even more comfortable sofa seat a few meters behind it, that was occupied by an exhausted man in a nice suit.
Ah well, at least there is a space for me to sit, unlike the other day, when a selfish, curly-headed pissant wouldn't even let me have the opposite side of the cart on which to sit. When I tried to sit on the opposite side, as he was having an involved cell conversation in a foreign language, he moved the cart so that I couldn't sit down. In disbelief, I tried to sit again, since I was exhausted. And then he moved the cart way away, rudely gesturing for me to get lost. All I could exclaim was, "Vrai? You selfish bastard!"
Anyway, here I sit, with my right foot bare, letting my shoes air out a little bit. The toes are still a little warm, but improved from yesterday. I might just cancel the appointment with Dr. Brache, if the toes look better in the morning.
Alex cooked again tonight. Pasta with pesto, onions, mushrooms, squash, and cheese. Delish. I'm always so fascinated by what makes people tick, and how they've decided to express their talents.
After class, I hurried back to do my homework. Maybe I should have headed directly out to the museum instead. I had only been home a few minutes before the heavens opened up and started the bathe the city. I spent a frustrating. It of time trying to find things on google, before concluding that the site must be down. Luckily wiki still worked. Decided on the Pompidou, since it's open until about 22:00, and the Louvre was going to be open that late tomorrow. When I left Maubert, it was sprinkling,, and the came the deluge. My lower pants legs were drenched. It's just as well that I'm wearing thin pants that dry in moments. Although, I am wearing my brown flats. Brown and black. Not chic, but very practical.
When I exited the metro at Rambuteaux, the sun was shining so brightly that I had to shade my eyes. Stopped in at the Brancusi Atelier, since I wanted a glimpse of The Kiss, which was featured in "Avenue Montaigne," a French movie that Janet got me long ago. Like some of the popular movies such as xxx, it follows several seemingly unrelated stories that
all converge, in a charming way.
In to the Matisse exhibit. It's astonishing to learn how deliberate he was about the development of his pieces. Using the same size canvas for the initial works as he intended to us error the final. Doing multiple studies before approaching the final. In 1936, he wrote, "At each stage, I reach a balance, a conclusion. At the next sitting, if I feel a weakness in the whole, I find my way back into the picture by means of the weakness - I re-enter through the breach -and reconceive the whole." What an amazing way to explore. If more people would explore religion and spirituality in this manner, how different would the world be today? Pieces in this exhibit that I enjoyed: "Luxe, Calme, et Volupte," "Pont St. Michel, a Paris, Effet de Neige," "Interiur au Violin," and "Les Marguerites."
Saw the Gerhard Richter exhibit, but it really didn't touch me. The only piece that I rather liked was "June, 1983." Also saw the early 20th century section. Pieces that appealed to me, and I can't remember which section they were in, were: Braque's monochromatic cubist pieces, "La Bal Bullier" by Sonia Delauney, "Traits Hoirs Enroules" (which reminded me of a fairy trapped in the inner ear) and "Autour D'un Point" by Kupka, "Pilier de Metro, 1934" by Brassai, and "Centro de Dominance" by Judit Reigl. Also loved spending time on the terraces of the Pompidou, since the rain is on hiatus, and there are clouds racing with the wind, across the most wonderful blue sky.
One of the wonderful things about the Pompidou is that it is open until past 22:00, so I have time, and don't feel rushed. Too bad it's not occupied by the type of art that I have a natural kinship for. The other wonderful thing is that there are English translations everywhere. One of my big frustrations is that I can't read, or write French well. Every thing seems to move more slowly, when really I want to be able to take it all in an instant. And third, there is free wifi throughout. How fabulous is that?
I spotted a chair in a deserted corner of the museum, in which to write this. When I actually got to the chair, I saw that there was an even more comfortable sofa seat a few meters behind it, that was occupied by an exhausted man in a nice suit.
Ah well, at least there is a space for me to sit, unlike the other day, when a selfish, curly-headed pissant wouldn't even let me have the opposite side of the cart on which to sit. When I tried to sit on the opposite side, as he was having an involved cell conversation in a foreign language, he moved the cart so that I couldn't sit down. In disbelief, I tried to sit again, since I was exhausted. And then he moved the cart way away, rudely gesturing for me to get lost. All I could exclaim was, "Vrai? You selfish bastard!"
Anyway, here I sit, with my right foot bare, letting my shoes air out a little bit. The toes are still a little warm, but improved from yesterday. I might just cancel the appointment with Dr. Brache, if the toes look better in the morning.
Alex cooked again tonight. Pasta with pesto, onions, mushrooms, squash, and cheese. Delish. I'm always so fascinated by what makes people tick, and how they've decided to express their talents.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Day 6
To class this morning, where we did practice dialogues about buying train tickets (time, train to-from, what class, one way or round trip), and also about verbs of daily activities. Before class, we students had fun making comparisons between the French disposition against smiling, and the American/British tendency toward it, especially when we feel embarrassed or vulnerable. Or maybe the French never (allow themselves to) feel vulnerable?
Christine is such a wonderful teacher. She is animated, and usually finds a way to explain things in French, without resorting to English. But she knows when we need a bone, and tosses accordingly. She also does a good job at discussing important points of French culture, history, and politics with us so that we understand the French temperament. And she is good at allowing the extroverts to also amuse the class, as well as draws out the introverts.
I was distracted by my feet. My toes, especially the large and second ones on each foot, are swollen, red, and warm. I expected the first two. Indeed, I can't wait for the second toe nails to fall off, as those nail beds are bruised, and so swollen that I look like I have clubbing on those digits. However, the erythema worries me. After class, I checked in at a pharmacy, and got some things for my toes, on the pharmacist's recommendation. I decided to go back to the apartment, taking a short detour to look at possible purse choices (since the bag I brought seems to be losing the strap ... Disappointing, since I got it at a reputable adventure store in NZ).
Back at the apartment, I looked up the things that the pharmacist recommended, and found out that arnica gel really won't do the trick. I looked up information on English speaking doctors in Paris, from a few online sources, including the US embassy, and spent a frustrating afternoon trying to call them. It seems like such a little thing, but not knowing what the dial tones mean can really wreck one's afternoon.
Finally, I got a hold of Stephen Wilson, general practitioner. Sounds like he could be an American ex-pat, doesn't he? Well, he sounded pretty French to me. And, he was busy until next week. He gave me the phone number of Dr. Bache, who I called immediately. Her lovely, British receptionist answered the phone, and made an appointment for me for Tuesday next week. I was a little disheartened at the wait, but figured it was better than nothing. However, since then, I found a listing on a blog, that I might call, to see if I can get in sooner with someone else. It's too bad that there is not a government listing of Anglophile physicians in Paris, but apparently it's illegal. Why, is anyone's guess.
Spent the rest of the afternoon surfing the Internet. I made a reservation for a foodie tour of the Marais, and am thinking about booking one to learn to make French baguettes and breads. The thing is, I never really eat bread back in the states. There really is just something magical about the French baguette, especially if it is freshly baked and still warm. With butter, cheese, or even on its own, it's a small piece of heaven. Alex says it must be the flour. I'll have to look into it. If it's true, I may have to get some to bring back to California.
Then, I started to get restive. Yes, I'm concerned about my foot, but I am also in Paris! So, I decided to get a couignette and chocolates from Maison Larnicol, and take myself down to the Eiffel Tower for a bit of scenery. I made it down to the ground level, and felt a few drops as I walked through the tiny courtyard. Back up I went to get my umbrella, and then I was off.
Walked west along the Boulevard St. Germaine, which I guess is a rather shi-shi street, according to Miriam. Passed the Roger Patrick store, which I noted for future reference, and finally found Larnicol. What an enchanting place! Chocolates of all sizes, shapes, colors, and tastes, all in containers, waiting for cacao lovers to scoop them into bags to be weighed and paid for. But wait, there are also delectable macaroons and buttery pastries as well. Absolutely delightful. I made a bag of a few chocolates and caramels, grabbed two couignettes, and made my escape.
Walking back to the St. Michel metro, I ran into Sean, who is in my French class. He is from Washington (DC or state, I don't know), and laughs a great deal, especially when he makes a slyly funny remark in class. I almost told him the other day that he reminds me of Woody Allen, until I stopped to think that that might be viewed as an insult. Anyway, he was with a giant of a man, who wouldn't look out of place in a lumberjack town, but who actually moved out of the beginner class into a higher level. We all conversed for just a few minutes, and I thought that Jack's French wasn't noticeably better than mine. Maybe I will move to the next class next week? Sean told me that he'd had a premonition that we'd run into each other tonight. Funny, how easy it is to voice a correct premonition after it's already come to pass!
I made my way back to St. Michel, and took the RER C over to Champs de Mar/Tour Eiffel. Compared to the other metro lines, the C line moves at a sedate pace, as if such an elderly and distinguished line was above ramming through the subway tunnels of Paris. I found a secluded spot in a children's garden, and wrote this post. My original thought was to stay until the iron lady started showing off her lights, but since it's only 20:30, I'm cold, and the sun doesn't set until abou 22:00. I may just pack it in and go home ... ? Then again, I've got all the chocolates to keep me warm, as I've only had one couiginnette. Only? The thing was a delicious explosion of butter, pastry, and passion fruit in my mouth. Although I do agree with one of the yelpers who said that they would taste/feel a little better if they were just a tad bit warm.
I did take a beautiful photo of Notre Dame. You'll have to check fb, since I still haven't figured out how to post photos from the iPad. Anyway, as I exited the metro, the sun peeped through the clouds to the west. I saw it paint the roofs with gold. And as I came into view of Our Lady, ther she was, in all her splendor. I rushed across the street, and snapped the photo. Thirty seconds later, the heavens closed, and she was again cold and grey. But for one minute this evening, she shone like gold.
Christine is such a wonderful teacher. She is animated, and usually finds a way to explain things in French, without resorting to English. But she knows when we need a bone, and tosses accordingly. She also does a good job at discussing important points of French culture, history, and politics with us so that we understand the French temperament. And she is good at allowing the extroverts to also amuse the class, as well as draws out the introverts.
I was distracted by my feet. My toes, especially the large and second ones on each foot, are swollen, red, and warm. I expected the first two. Indeed, I can't wait for the second toe nails to fall off, as those nail beds are bruised, and so swollen that I look like I have clubbing on those digits. However, the erythema worries me. After class, I checked in at a pharmacy, and got some things for my toes, on the pharmacist's recommendation. I decided to go back to the apartment, taking a short detour to look at possible purse choices (since the bag I brought seems to be losing the strap ... Disappointing, since I got it at a reputable adventure store in NZ).
Back at the apartment, I looked up the things that the pharmacist recommended, and found out that arnica gel really won't do the trick. I looked up information on English speaking doctors in Paris, from a few online sources, including the US embassy, and spent a frustrating afternoon trying to call them. It seems like such a little thing, but not knowing what the dial tones mean can really wreck one's afternoon.
Finally, I got a hold of Stephen Wilson, general practitioner. Sounds like he could be an American ex-pat, doesn't he? Well, he sounded pretty French to me. And, he was busy until next week. He gave me the phone number of Dr. Bache, who I called immediately. Her lovely, British receptionist answered the phone, and made an appointment for me for Tuesday next week. I was a little disheartened at the wait, but figured it was better than nothing. However, since then, I found a listing on a blog, that I might call, to see if I can get in sooner with someone else. It's too bad that there is not a government listing of Anglophile physicians in Paris, but apparently it's illegal. Why, is anyone's guess.
Spent the rest of the afternoon surfing the Internet. I made a reservation for a foodie tour of the Marais, and am thinking about booking one to learn to make French baguettes and breads. The thing is, I never really eat bread back in the states. There really is just something magical about the French baguette, especially if it is freshly baked and still warm. With butter, cheese, or even on its own, it's a small piece of heaven. Alex says it must be the flour. I'll have to look into it. If it's true, I may have to get some to bring back to California.
Then, I started to get restive. Yes, I'm concerned about my foot, but I am also in Paris! So, I decided to get a couignette and chocolates from Maison Larnicol, and take myself down to the Eiffel Tower for a bit of scenery. I made it down to the ground level, and felt a few drops as I walked through the tiny courtyard. Back up I went to get my umbrella, and then I was off.
Walked west along the Boulevard St. Germaine, which I guess is a rather shi-shi street, according to Miriam. Passed the Roger Patrick store, which I noted for future reference, and finally found Larnicol. What an enchanting place! Chocolates of all sizes, shapes, colors, and tastes, all in containers, waiting for cacao lovers to scoop them into bags to be weighed and paid for. But wait, there are also delectable macaroons and buttery pastries as well. Absolutely delightful. I made a bag of a few chocolates and caramels, grabbed two couignettes, and made my escape.
Walking back to the St. Michel metro, I ran into Sean, who is in my French class. He is from Washington (DC or state, I don't know), and laughs a great deal, especially when he makes a slyly funny remark in class. I almost told him the other day that he reminds me of Woody Allen, until I stopped to think that that might be viewed as an insult. Anyway, he was with a giant of a man, who wouldn't look out of place in a lumberjack town, but who actually moved out of the beginner class into a higher level. We all conversed for just a few minutes, and I thought that Jack's French wasn't noticeably better than mine. Maybe I will move to the next class next week? Sean told me that he'd had a premonition that we'd run into each other tonight. Funny, how easy it is to voice a correct premonition after it's already come to pass!
I made my way back to St. Michel, and took the RER C over to Champs de Mar/Tour Eiffel. Compared to the other metro lines, the C line moves at a sedate pace, as if such an elderly and distinguished line was above ramming through the subway tunnels of Paris. I found a secluded spot in a children's garden, and wrote this post. My original thought was to stay until the iron lady started showing off her lights, but since it's only 20:30, I'm cold, and the sun doesn't set until abou 22:00. I may just pack it in and go home ... ? Then again, I've got all the chocolates to keep me warm, as I've only had one couiginnette. Only? The thing was a delicious explosion of butter, pastry, and passion fruit in my mouth. Although I do agree with one of the yelpers who said that they would taste/feel a little better if they were just a tad bit warm.
I did take a beautiful photo of Notre Dame. You'll have to check fb, since I still haven't figured out how to post photos from the iPad. Anyway, as I exited the metro, the sun peeped through the clouds to the west. I saw it paint the roofs with gold. And as I came into view of Our Lady, ther she was, in all her splendor. I rushed across the street, and snapped the photo. Thirty seconds later, the heavens closed, and she was again cold and grey. But for one minute this evening, she shone like gold.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Day 5
Up early and able to shower with the door open, as Alex stayed on the barge with the London crew!
To school in the morning. Luckily the shoes and gel inserts seem to working well. Our class was in a smaller room, as Tuesdays a larger class has need of the main classroom. I do see where the other students are behind me, but there are many things that I still need to learn. Pour example, j'ai besoin de look up comment de pronounce est-ce que. I think I will look up a guide for French pronunciation rules, or ask Christine if she has one. Today, we conjugated appeler. The first e has an u sound in the infinitive. However, when conjugated in the present tense, the e takes a short e sound when the l is doubled, in the je/tu/il form. Thus, I call the house translates into j'appelle la maison.
We talked about things to do in Paris during June and July. I mentioned the summer solstice music festival, which happens on the 21st. And there are open air movies in July.
Back to the apartment after school. Stopped for a cheese and egg crepe on the way back. It needed a bit of heat to make it a more tasty. Did my homework for the day, then decided to head out to walk through the Champs Élysées before going to my Genius Bar appointment. Sadly, the camera shows only a black screen when opened. It happened quite suddenly, as I was emailing photos to myself. No bonks or anything to disturb the iPad. So, I ended up emailing all the photos to myself, just in case I need to exchange it for another. A bit disheartening for such a newly purchased item.
My new shoes are quite wonderful, especially with the gel pads on the balls of the feet. I feel like I am walking on squishy clouds. It was a bit icky at first, but when I take off my shoes, I can feel the pain of the blister, and I thank the Gods of Foot Technology that gel pass exist. Really, my feet feel better with my shoes on, than off. I think this is a first in my lifetime.
Took the metro out to the Clemenceau station along the Champs Élysées, and walked through the garden areas. Down through the Tuilleries, and over to the large fountain at the east end of the garden. Sadly, there were no children sailing boats in the fountain, but there was plenty of sunshine, and a few empty chairs. As I had plenty of time before my supposed Mac appointment. Lovely.
Finally got to the right entrance to the Carousel Louvre, and descended to see the inverted glass pyramid. Got to the Apple store, and it was packed. Got up to the Genius Bar. Tried to check in, but they couldn't find my appointment. Turns out my appointment is tomorrow. The bar was so busy that I wasn't even given the option of an appointment today.
Since the weather was so nice, I decided to make my way to the Jardin de Luxembourg. Slight detour to one of the Gilbert-something stores, as I got pulled in by some Paris books on sale. Both heavily discounted to about 10 euro. Decided to think on it for a night and reevaluate in the morning. Got over to the Luxembourg and started to wander around, when I felt a few drops fall on me. All of sudden, the blue sky seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by a leaden gray canopy of clouds. Tossed around my options, then decided to return to the apartment for my jacket and umbrella. As I arrived to Place Maubert, I saw that the queue for the bakery was out the store. Decided I had to have a piece of that. Ordered a tartelette chocolat and a baguette. And the baguette was warm! Decided this merited some cheese, so I stepped over to the fromagere next door, and got a lovely creamy cheese with some spices on top (like a tart in and of itself), and got myself back to the apartment with a gleeful smile on my face. Bon appetite indeed! The tartelette was so richly delicious that I had to save more than half for later.
Finally, with jacket on and umbrella in hand, I took the metro to the southern end of the Luxembourg. It started spitting drops again. Really, it was quite lovely, since the pronounced dewiness kept so many people away, and I got to enjoy a lot of quiet. For some reason, I associate the Luxembourg with the final short in "Paris, Je T'aime." even though I know it's not the same place.
When I got back to the apartment, there were a few groceries on the bed, but no Alex. I didn't have to wait too long, until he came back with some more things. And made some excellent gnocchi for dinner! What a nice surprise! For my part, I like to cook, but only for dinner parties. I confess that I find cooking for myself to be boring, and lots of work. Not only do I have to do the cooking, but I also have to wash all the dishes. Really, I think I want people to appreciate my cooking and thank me for it. Somehow, I never seem to be able to thank myself enough. Anyway, the food was quite lovely, and I happily cleaned up all the dishes. This task was made easier because Alex bought dishwashing soap. Apparently I've been using hand soap, with dismal results.
To school in the morning. Luckily the shoes and gel inserts seem to working well. Our class was in a smaller room, as Tuesdays a larger class has need of the main classroom. I do see where the other students are behind me, but there are many things that I still need to learn. Pour example, j'ai besoin de look up comment de pronounce est-ce que. I think I will look up a guide for French pronunciation rules, or ask Christine if she has one. Today, we conjugated appeler. The first e has an u sound in the infinitive. However, when conjugated in the present tense, the e takes a short e sound when the l is doubled, in the je/tu/il form. Thus, I call the house translates into j'appelle la maison.
We talked about things to do in Paris during June and July. I mentioned the summer solstice music festival, which happens on the 21st. And there are open air movies in July.
Back to the apartment after school. Stopped for a cheese and egg crepe on the way back. It needed a bit of heat to make it a more tasty. Did my homework for the day, then decided to head out to walk through the Champs Élysées before going to my Genius Bar appointment. Sadly, the camera shows only a black screen when opened. It happened quite suddenly, as I was emailing photos to myself. No bonks or anything to disturb the iPad. So, I ended up emailing all the photos to myself, just in case I need to exchange it for another. A bit disheartening for such a newly purchased item.
My new shoes are quite wonderful, especially with the gel pads on the balls of the feet. I feel like I am walking on squishy clouds. It was a bit icky at first, but when I take off my shoes, I can feel the pain of the blister, and I thank the Gods of Foot Technology that gel pass exist. Really, my feet feel better with my shoes on, than off. I think this is a first in my lifetime.
Took the metro out to the Clemenceau station along the Champs Élysées, and walked through the garden areas. Down through the Tuilleries, and over to the large fountain at the east end of the garden. Sadly, there were no children sailing boats in the fountain, but there was plenty of sunshine, and a few empty chairs. As I had plenty of time before my supposed Mac appointment. Lovely.
Finally got to the right entrance to the Carousel Louvre, and descended to see the inverted glass pyramid. Got to the Apple store, and it was packed. Got up to the Genius Bar. Tried to check in, but they couldn't find my appointment. Turns out my appointment is tomorrow. The bar was so busy that I wasn't even given the option of an appointment today.
Since the weather was so nice, I decided to make my way to the Jardin de Luxembourg. Slight detour to one of the Gilbert-something stores, as I got pulled in by some Paris books on sale. Both heavily discounted to about 10 euro. Decided to think on it for a night and reevaluate in the morning. Got over to the Luxembourg and started to wander around, when I felt a few drops fall on me. All of sudden, the blue sky seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by a leaden gray canopy of clouds. Tossed around my options, then decided to return to the apartment for my jacket and umbrella. As I arrived to Place Maubert, I saw that the queue for the bakery was out the store. Decided I had to have a piece of that. Ordered a tartelette chocolat and a baguette. And the baguette was warm! Decided this merited some cheese, so I stepped over to the fromagere next door, and got a lovely creamy cheese with some spices on top (like a tart in and of itself), and got myself back to the apartment with a gleeful smile on my face. Bon appetite indeed! The tartelette was so richly delicious that I had to save more than half for later.
Finally, with jacket on and umbrella in hand, I took the metro to the southern end of the Luxembourg. It started spitting drops again. Really, it was quite lovely, since the pronounced dewiness kept so many people away, and I got to enjoy a lot of quiet. For some reason, I associate the Luxembourg with the final short in "Paris, Je T'aime." even though I know it's not the same place.
When I got back to the apartment, there were a few groceries on the bed, but no Alex. I didn't have to wait too long, until he came back with some more things. And made some excellent gnocchi for dinner! What a nice surprise! For my part, I like to cook, but only for dinner parties. I confess that I find cooking for myself to be boring, and lots of work. Not only do I have to do the cooking, but I also have to wash all the dishes. Really, I think I want people to appreciate my cooking and thank me for it. Somehow, I never seem to be able to thank myself enough. Anyway, the food was quite lovely, and I happily cleaned up all the dishes. This task was made easier because Alex bought dishwashing soap. Apparently I've been using hand soap, with dismal results.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Day 4
Hopefully this is the worst day that I will encounter in Paris. In all reality, it wasn't horrible, but almost.
Today I am on my own, as Alex has decided to take the extra French Open ticket that his friends have. Apparently it is an all day event, I vaguely remember going on a date to a US Open (at least, I think it was) match, but it was only two sets of competitors (not five), and it was just in the evening. This means that I can close the curtains, and not close any of the doors while I am in the shower or the toilet. After living on my own for the past two years, it still seems strange to close doors.
To school. As I waited to pay the rest of the fees, I ran into Christine, my teacher from last time. She recognized me, and remembered that I was une infermiere. Not to be big-headed, but I think I was one of the better and more vocal of her students, at least of that class four years ago. Then again, there were only five to six of us, so it was not hard to stand out. Turns out that I am in Christine's class again. Surprisingly, with a first half morning class of seven, there are three other Japanese women. One youngish one who is earning her keep by cleaning house for a local (if I understood correctly), and two whose husbands are working in Paris for a year or so. It's quite amusing to see them flip back and forth between Japanese, English, and French, as they search for that elusive word at the tip of their tongue. And when I say "they," I also mean "we."
During the mid morning break, Christine pulled me aside to see if I wanted to advance to the harder class that meets in the afternoon. I dithered. I was flattered, but my small vocabulary, inability to conjugate verbs, and hesitation with unfamiliar pronunciation made me decide to stay in the lower class. At least for now. Maybe if I really study hard this week, it may be possible to advance later in my stay.
I was reassured that I'd made the right decision in the second half of the morning, as we reviewed verbs ... Vocab, conjugations, and reflexives.
After class, I wandered the fashionable streets of Paris, looking for a pair of comfy black shoes, like a desert wanderer searching for water. I don't know how these French women do it. Traipsing along in high heels, or sandals flatter than a crepe, and with about as much arch support. And then it started to rain. Not hard, but enough to make me rethink the thong birks I was contemplating. That and the fact that I can't wear thongs that have anything other than cloth straps. I found a pair of comfort sandals that would do the job, but they were brown. Not great for someone with an exclusively black wardrobe. I tucked them into my mind as a possible option, bathe proceeded to find nothing at Clarke's (such a tragedy, they were out of my size), Footlocker (I just couldn't bring myself to buy an ugly and expensive set of trainers), BHV (I looked all through women's wear and through the directory and couldn't find shoes), and several other cheapish shoe stores along Rue de Rivoli. I could feel a blister developing on the ball of my right foot, a souvenir from walking in my amphib shoes without my socks, as we rushed to take the last metro, and started to feel desperate. I returned to the brown shoes, and bought them.
After changing into my shoes, I felt much better. At least everything but the developing blister. The other ones were fine. So, I returned to the rental agency to inquire about the second set of keys. Voila, it was pas du probleme! Harder to get was an answer on how to pick up the phone messages at the apartment. Even harder was trying to tell them that the shower was still problematic. Yes, the tubing was fine, but water streamed out from a seam in the shower head, instead of all in the usual place. They didn't have an extra at the agency, but said that they would send someone to fix it today. Really, I was just proud to be able to say, "La douche ca ne mache pas." I know that's not how the phrase is spelled, but that is how it sounds from my language cd's.
Stopped at the pharmacie around the corner from the agency, and bought some excellent foot pads to place in my new shoes to ease blister pain. The man behind the counter had a most beneficent smile. Or was that just my pain and hunger manifesting? For the latter, I got a crepe. For the former, I hurried back to the apartment, cleaned and popped the ball blister, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed. No going to the Musee Rodin, or searching for exotic chocolate shops, but those can wait for a better day.
All in all, not a terribly devastating day, but I hope the rest are loads better.
Today I am on my own, as Alex has decided to take the extra French Open ticket that his friends have. Apparently it is an all day event, I vaguely remember going on a date to a US Open (at least, I think it was) match, but it was only two sets of competitors (not five), and it was just in the evening. This means that I can close the curtains, and not close any of the doors while I am in the shower or the toilet. After living on my own for the past two years, it still seems strange to close doors.
During the mid morning break, Christine pulled me aside to see if I wanted to advance to the harder class that meets in the afternoon. I dithered. I was flattered, but my small vocabulary, inability to conjugate verbs, and hesitation with unfamiliar pronunciation made me decide to stay in the lower class. At least for now. Maybe if I really study hard this week, it may be possible to advance later in my stay.
I was reassured that I'd made the right decision in the second half of the morning, as we reviewed verbs ... Vocab, conjugations, and reflexives.
After class, I wandered the fashionable streets of Paris, looking for a pair of comfy black shoes, like a desert wanderer searching for water. I don't know how these French women do it. Traipsing along in high heels, or sandals flatter than a crepe, and with about as much arch support. And then it started to rain. Not hard, but enough to make me rethink the thong birks I was contemplating. That and the fact that I can't wear thongs that have anything other than cloth straps. I found a pair of comfort sandals that would do the job, but they were brown. Not great for someone with an exclusively black wardrobe. I tucked them into my mind as a possible option, bathe proceeded to find nothing at Clarke's (such a tragedy, they were out of my size), Footlocker (I just couldn't bring myself to buy an ugly and expensive set of trainers), BHV (I looked all through women's wear and through the directory and couldn't find shoes), and several other cheapish shoe stores along Rue de Rivoli. I could feel a blister developing on the ball of my right foot, a souvenir from walking in my amphib shoes without my socks, as we rushed to take the last metro, and started to feel desperate. I returned to the brown shoes, and bought them.
After changing into my shoes, I felt much better. At least everything but the developing blister. The other ones were fine. So, I returned to the rental agency to inquire about the second set of keys. Voila, it was pas du probleme! Harder to get was an answer on how to pick up the phone messages at the apartment. Even harder was trying to tell them that the shower was still problematic. Yes, the tubing was fine, but water streamed out from a seam in the shower head, instead of all in the usual place. They didn't have an extra at the agency, but said that they would send someone to fix it today. Really, I was just proud to be able to say, "La douche ca ne mache pas." I know that's not how the phrase is spelled, but that is how it sounds from my language cd's.
Stopped at the pharmacie around the corner from the agency, and bought some excellent foot pads to place in my new shoes to ease blister pain. The man behind the counter had a most beneficent smile. Or was that just my pain and hunger manifesting? For the latter, I got a crepe. For the former, I hurried back to the apartment, cleaned and popped the ball blister, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed. No going to the Musee Rodin, or searching for exotic chocolate shops, but those can wait for a better day.
All in all, not a terribly devastating day, but I hope the rest are loads better.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)