Tag Archive | Paris

Final Day in Paris and Return to London

December 10, 2016, Saturday: Paris-London

Final Day in Paris and Return to London.

And so the day finally dawned when I would leave the City of Lights and get back to London. I awoke at 6.30 am, spent an hour catching up through wifi on email and Twitter and at 7.30 am, I began to look for breakfast. For the last couple of days, I had been trying to finish up all the food in my fridge and so I ate bits and bobs and went down to the vending machine for a mocha latte. I began packing right after as my flight from Charles de Gaulle airport was at 6.05 pm. This basically left me with the whole day to go where I pleased when my packing was done. But I was really so exhausted after all the walking I had done for the past week, that I simply stayed local. After accomplishing a great deal of packing, I took a break for a shower and then left my place to take the tram to Stade Charlety, the next stop, to get some chocolate from Franprix for the friends with whom I would be staying in London for a few days. Takign the tram ticked off the last To-Do item on my Paris List!

Back in my place with my boxes of chocolates, I continued packing, got rid of my garbage, emptied my fridge and put the last bits of my food together in a makeshift lunch that included the last of my smoked salmon, salad leaves, salad dressing, blue cheese and mixed nuts with honey-ginger yoghurt and macarons for dessert. By 1.30 pm, I washed up my lunch things and returned them to the kitchen (plate, bowl, glass, cutlery). I cleaned up, took pictures of my room and by 1.45, I was down at the Reception and returning my keys and saying goodbye to the place I have now called home twice in my life. I thanked them profusely downstairs for providing such a safe, comfortable and reasonably-priced space.

From the metro station, I took the RER (B) directly to Charles de Gaulle airport where I arrived at exactly 3.00pm for my 6.00 pm Air France flight to London. I arrived at Heathrow at 7.30 pm local time and taking the Tube, I alighted at Warwick Avenue where I reached at about 10.00 pm. I walked to my friend Raquel’s dupleix flat where her husband Chris came to give me a hand with my baggage expecting me to have an outsized case after three weeks away from London. As it turned out, it amazed them all to realize that I had traveled with just a small backpack.

Raquel very kindly fixed me a bowl of her pasta and meatballs and after a long free-wheeling chinwag, I gave them the gifts I had brought for them (Fragonard perfume for Raquel, chocolates for Chris and Jonas) and then called it a night.

It was great to be back in London (which is like a second home to me) and to feel that easy sense of familiarity—although, to be perfectly fair, within a day of being in Paris, it had felt like home to be as well!

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

 

 

 

     

           

 

 

 

First-Time Forays Into Islamic Paris…and Other Attractions.

December 8, 2016, Thursday: Paris

First-Time Forays into Islamic Paris…and other Attractions

For some odd reason, I had a rather late start today—probably was not woken up by the tram bell outside my window. A 7.45 am rising is late by my standards. I had a Pierre Herme Ispahan croissant for brekkie with orange juice, showered and got dressed. I left my place at 10. 45 after carefully drawing up a route that would take me to parts of Paris into which I had never before ventured.

Exploring the Jardin des Plantes:

My first stop of the day was at the Jardin des Plantes (Botanical Garden) and the reason for my visit was the magnificent novel by Anthony Doerr called All The Light You Cannot See, winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and the best novel I had read in 2014. The initial section of the novel is set here in the Botanical Garden in general and the Museum of Natural History in particular as it is where the museum is located. The father of the female protagonist of the novel, Marie-Laure, is one of the curators of the museum and his task is to keep the keys of the museum safe as well as a fictional stone that is usually on view at the Museum of Natural History. As an old woman and a survivor of World War II, Marie-Laure returns to Paris and makes her home close to the Museum and to the Botanical Garden where she passes most evenings in the company of her grand-son.

Because I had been so taken by this splendid novel and because I had never been to the Botanical Garden, I decided that I would visit it this time round as well as check out the Museum of Natural History. I was completely floored by the Botanical Garden. It was huge—extensive and well-manicured. There are alles of linden trees (which, because it was nearly winter, were stripped of their foliage) that provide wonderful walking paths through the garden. The alles are lined on both sides by glass conservatories and by a number of buildings. I soon discovered that those buildings comprise the Museum of Natural History as it is not one building but about 12—scattered all over Paris, although about six of them surround the alles. I took several pictures of the garden and the conservatories and then made my way into the Museum of Paleontology where a number of dinosaur skeletons attract large numbers of children. Unfortunately, each of the museums has a different entry fee—there is no single fee to cover them all. By the time one sees them all, one has spent a small fortune. They would not recognize my Met ID card and I did not wish to spend too much time in any one of them. I decided, therefore, to merely poke my head into the Museum of Mineralogy where the fictitious stone would have been stored and to take a couple of pictures there.

Then, I left the museum and the Botanical Garden and went on to the next attraction on my list—the rarely-visited Grand Mosque of Paris.

The Grand Mosque of Paris:

To enter the Grand Mosque in Paris is to enter into an altogether different world. It is hard to believe that you are in Europe—you would think you were somewhere in Northern Africa: in Algeria, Tunisia or Morocco (artisans from these countries had been specially commissioned to undertake the job). The mosque is large and beautiful. It has all the characteristics of Islamic architecture plus gorgeous decorative tile-work that is reminiscent of the Al-Hambra in Granada, Spain. The central courtyard concept is in force with rooms radiating out from a very lovely garden that fills one with a sense of spiritual serenity. There is a towering minaret in the North African style. Visitors are free to wander around anywhere—there is a really large hall with a central fountain with all sorts of decorative tile work. The only room you that non-Muslims cannot enter is the Prayer Room itself which contains the Mihrab. Since it was not a Friday, it was rather quiet at the mosque but a few worshippers were around, both in the corridors and in the Prayer Room (you can get a quick glimpse from the main door). I took so many pictures as I was completely enthralled by this unusual structure right in the middle of Paris—it was so hard for me to believe that right across the street was the 19th century Botanical Gardens. It really is a quite distinctive place to visit and I am glad I went.

The mosque has a restaurant attached that offers Middle Eastern and North African cuisine such as mezzes and tagines. It is set in a lovely shady garden (if you prefer to sit outdoors) or inside in a space that resembles a souk or a casbah. As I said, everything about this place is enchanting—even if you are not a Muslim (perhaps especially if you are not a Muslim).

Visiting the Institute du Monde Arabe:

Co-incidentally, although I had not actually planned for it, I went from one Islamic space to the next—but from the sacred to the secular. When I lived in Paris, a few years ago, I used to pass in the bus by this striking building that I realized was designed by the renowned French architect, Jean Nouvel. It is on most tourist maps of Paris, but somehow I had never found the time to explore it. This visit would remedy the omission.

It was a twenty minute walk from the Mosque to the Institute which is sweetly located on the banks of the Seine. It is a nine-story structure that looks like a cube. It has a huge Omani dhow right outside it—a gift from Oman whose government has sponsored the special exhibition on right now called ‘Sea-farers of the Mediterranean.’ I was fortunate that my Met ID was recognized here. I was handed different ticket stubs to get to the different floors, on each of which they was a different exhibition. Two floors contain objects that remain permanently in place—they range from illuminated Korans to ancient pottery. I also saw a special exhibition on the Bhiksha Oasis which is in the North African country of Algeria. The ‘Sea-Farers of the Mediterranean’ exhibition was splendid. It carried vast amounts of material on a number of countries, explorers and navigators from the Islamic world whose courage and vision opened up the area to the rest of the world.

In-between seeing the floors, I sat on a bench and ate my smoked salmon baguette. I stayed for another hour as I rode up and down the glass elevators inside the building which allowed me to admire the wonderful architectural work of Nouvel with its emphasis on thousands of pipes that form sharp angles in the interior or the building. The top-most floor is an empty viewing terrace with a small café attached to it. It does, of course, offer lovely views of Paris and of the Seine and I took them all in with deep pleasure. When I was done, I walked out of the Institute, quire pleased that I have covered yet another item on my To-Do List.

A Bit of Shopping:

From this point on, I decided to go out in search of a French beret together with one of the woolen caps that are now sporting fur pom-poms. My idea was to detach one of the pompoms and sew it on to one of the berets in imitation of a favorite hat I had once owned but which I had lost, much to my sorrow. This specific need involved getting to the side streets around the Cathedral of Notre-Dame where the inexpensive souvenir stores sell the sort of item I was seeking. It took me absolute ages and a great deal of sweat equity to track down the hats I wanted at the right price. After scouring at least half a dozen stores, I found exactly what I wanted and couldn’t have been happier.

Ice-Cream, Marron Glaces and Other Goodies at the Ile de St. Louis:

Since I was so close to the Ile de Saint Louis, I had to go in search of some ice-cream at Berthillon. And after I had my treat, I stepped into a cookie store where I received a few more goodies for sampling. Then, on passing a candy shop, I stepped in, on impulse, to buy myself a marron glace (glazed chestnut) as this is a French specialty that is very popular at Christmastime and which I had never tasted. Keen to see what all the fuss was about and wondering why these little confections are so expensive, I bought myself one and was completely surprised—both at the taste and the texture of it—it was spongy, not hard (and I am still wondering what all the fuss is about!). But then there you have it! Another item ticked off my To-Taste List!

Off to the Bastille for a Croque Monsieur:

Also on my To-Eat List before I left Paris was a really good Croque Monsieur—which, as most people know, is a ham and cheese sandwich that is dipped in a Mornay sauce and grilled. I have loved Croque Monsieurs since I first tasted them, about thirty years ago. And on every trip to France, I make sure I eat at least one. When I lived in Paris, I made them at home very frequently for it is the wonderful. combination of smoked ham and Swiss cheese (found most flavorfully in France) that make the best Croques.

Well, having done my research on the internet (to find the best Croque Monsieur in Paris), I was directed to the Cafe des Phares which is right at the Place de la Bastille. So I went on the metro from ‘St. Mich’ (as St. Michel is known) to Bastille and as soon as I emerged from the metro, I spied the restaurant across the wide circle.  I made a beeline for it and settled myself down at a table and gave my order for a Croque Monsieur and a café au lait—it would be a very early dinner.

My Croque was wonderful. It was best when it was freshly served to me and since I love eating my food piping hot, I did not wait too long for it to cool down. As it cooled, it got less and less succulent—in fact, it started to get rubbery as the melted fondue-like cheese hardened. Served with a salad and my coffee, it was a great meal. As you can see, I seem to have lost my inhibitions altogether about dining alone in restaurants. The French seem to have no problem with it at all and seem not in the slightest bit surprised when I request a table for one and place a single order. As it turned out, at the next table was seated an African-American couple who, lost little time in getting friendly with me. We had a very nice conversation. He happened to be a former restauranteur who has lived in Paris for the past forty years and she, his friend, turned out to someone in international finance who was taking a year off to travel and had made Paris a temporary base. One of the best things about being a solo sojourner is that you make friends with all types of people who reach out and include you in conversation—so that you are never really completely or uncomfortably alone.

A little while later, after clearing my bill, I took the metro from Bastille and got back home. As I had a very early dinner and had sat up communicating on my computer to so many people, I had myself a late-night snack of salad and yoghurt and then fell asleep just past midnight.

A demain…

Parisian Museums and More–Musee de la Mode and Musee de L’Homme

December 7, 2016, Wednesday.

Museums and More…

     In keeping with my resolve to see as many new places in Paris as possible, today, I awoke and decided to go to the Musee de la Mode de la Ville de Paris (the Museum of Fashion)—after all, there is no city in the world more a la mode than Paris.

Brekkie at the Café of Cite-Universitaire:

Carrying one of Pierre Herme’s croissants with me, I went in search of a cup of coffee. As I remembered that Cite-Universitaire has a well-serviced cafe, I showered, dressed and left my room to find it. It also ticked off one more item from my To-Do List (a Walk around Cite-Universitaire).

At the counter, I ordered a Breakfast Menu Complet which came with a croissant, a small roll, butter, jam, a pot of strawberry yoghurt, a pack of orange juice and a cup of coffee.  I was certainly not going to eat it all—so I ate the Herme croissant and had the coffee. The rest I  deposited in my room (for future breakfasts). I then hopped into the metro and went off to Rue Raspail to find the Musee de la Mode which opened at 10.00 am.

Exploring the Musee de la Mode:

The Musee was also empty when I got there. However, before I even entered it, I got sidetracked by a street market on Rue Raspail and I went for a long browse through stalls filled with fruit, veg, nuts, dried fruit, snacks, cheese, meat, etc. What I did leave with was a black wool beret that I picked up for 10 euros (but which I think, now, was a rather foolish buy that I might not even wear!). But I rarely make such purchases—so I do not want to be too hard on myself.

At the museum, which is located in a lovely hotel particulier with a curved pathway leading to the entrance (very similar to the Musee Maillol) that is known as the Palais Galliera, I was given free entry with my Met ID card. Inside, although small, there are some elements that remain memorable. It takes you through a short history of French haute couture. The big names and some of their works are present—a lot of Givenchy pill-box hats, for instance, as popularized by Jackie O. There are gowns by Chanel and other Famed French designers who made a mark on the fashion scene with their vision and style. None of the exhibits are permanent–they are constantly changed. When I went, I found gowns, dresses, shoes, hats—some very wearable, others outrageous. I was not sure what to expect and I have to say that I was not disappointed. As a capsule of French fashion, it was quite interesting.

Off to NYU-Paris:

I left the museum before 12 noon as I had an appointment with my colleague Eugene at Boulevarde St. Germaine where NYU-Paris is located. He has spent a year teaching in Paris and since I was keen to visit our premises in France, he offered to meet me, give me a tour, introduce me to a few staff members and students before we had a coffee together.

Accordingly, I arrived at the venue at 1.00 pm and had a nice reunion with Eugene. NYU is located in a nondescript building on the main road—so it really does not have a campus. It occupies a few of the top floors of the building. Eugene took me straight up to the topmost level for exciting views of the city. It was quite stunning really, and I am glad we started off there. From that point on, we took the stairs as we passed through student lounges, classrooms, administrative offices and the like. He introduced me to a few of the senior staff members and after taking a few pictures, we set off for a small bistro at St. Germaine where we had a coffee and talked shop. Unfortunately, Eugene was caught up with end-of-term grading and could not stay long. However, he did invite me to join his class at 3.00 pm. for a tour of the Musee de l’Homme. Since I had never been there, I decided to do just that. However, with another hour and a half to spare before I needed to return to NYU, I made the lightning decision to re-visit the Cluny-Thermes which is also known as the Musee des Moyen Ages (Museum of the Middle Ages) to see the series of tapestries that is known as the ‘Lady and the Unicorn’.

A Return to the Musee des Moyen Ages:

I discovered this museum rather late in my Parisian experience, but it has become one of my favorites in Paris. With just one hour to spare, I got myself a free entry (thanks to my Met ID card) and raced immediately to the special round room at the top of the gorgeous Gothic building that is used to house the series of tapestries. They are best viewed together and this room makes the ideal venue from which to take them in.

I took pictures of each of the tapestries that depict an unknown lady and her maid in a garden surrounded by a variety of animals and birds. They are said to depict the five human senses (sight, sound, hearing taste, touch) through interesting representations. The sixth tapestry is said to represent the sixth sense (or conscience). Filled with an abundance of detail, one can gaze at each tapestry for ages and admire them endlessly. I had a short time there but I derived immense pleasure from looking at them minutely and taking pictures. Then, I hurried off to meet Eugene’s class and used the short ten minute walk to eat my smoked salmon sandwich.

Off to the Musee de l’Homme with NYU Students:

I arrived on schedule at NYU and met Eugene and his class in the lobby. We set out immediately, taking the metro to Trocadero—once again, we got the opportunity to ride on the No. 6 train that took us across the Seine past the Eiffel Tower. At Trocadero, we walked past the Palais de Chaillot to the Museum. Eugene had made a group booking and we were ushered past the entrance into the main hall.

The Musee de l’Homme (Museum of Man) is devoted to Anthropology. I had never been inside and, in fact, had never even heard of it. I did not think that I would find it fascinating, but indeed I did. It is beautifully laid out and wonderfully curated and contains a treasure trove of large and small items from every part of the world that are superbly displayed. The falling cascade of busts of males and females from varied parts of the world is itself a reason to go. They are superbly carved in wood with amazing detail. Other things that caught my eye was a fallen elephant with its guts exposed and tumbling out—we had seen a similar sight in real life on a rhino in South Africa. Best part of all, the museum offered brilliant views of the Eiffel Tower from its many windows and because we were at an elevated level, we had the chance to see the many sculptures scattered around the premises from new and interesting angles. As the evening wore on, as night fell and as the lights came on at the Tower, we got even more stirring pictures.

After spending about two hours at the museum, enjoying the commentary of my colleague, listening to questions raised by our NYU students and pondering their comments, we called it a day. The students left, Eugene and I walked to the metro station and then parted ways.

Christmas Market on the Champs-Elysses:

I hopped off at the Champs-Elysses and, on emerging at ground level, found myself stunned by the fairyland in which I found myself. The famous avenue was ablaze with Christmas fairy lights and color as I had been deposited in the very midst of its well-renowned Christmas market that occurs at this time of year. I had an appointment for dinner with my French friend Livia at 6.00 pm and with an hour to spare, I began to check out the stalls. I have to admit that I was really exhausted throughout most of my time in Paris as I was simply trying to bite off more than I could chew and barely gave my legs any time to rest. The end result was that my right knee began to hurt and I was often so fatigued, I simply had to flop down somewhere. Still, I did not let it deter me from doing what I wished to accomplish.

The Christmas market is huge—it spans both sides of the Champs-Elysses. It features a great deal of German food stalls—there is bratwurst and hot gluhwein (mulled red wine). On the French side, there is raclette and Croque Monsieur. There are also a lot of stalls selling crafts—if you are in need of Christmas presents, this is where you can buy the lot. Woolen caps and gloves and mitts and lots of hats with fur pom-poms (which is quite the rage right now) were all over the place. I merely window-shopped, but it was fun to be a part of it all and to see the amount of variety of items being sold.

Dinner with Livia at Le Bistro Marboeuf:

Livia in the step-daughter of my French friend Genevieve whom I had seen last week in Lyon. I have known Livia for many years and we always make plans to meet when I am in Paris. Livia had suggested we meet at Rue Marbeouf and I set out to find her. We met on schedule and at her suggestion, we made ourselves comfortable at a very typically Parisian bistro called Le Bistro Marboeuf. I welcomed the opportunity to have a companion for dinner–one of the downsides about being alone in Paris is that I rarely enter good eateries to have a complete meal as I have never fancied dining alone.

With Livia for company, I ordered a full three-course meal: I started with the foie gras (which was just superb) served with toast points, went on to steak-frites served with a three-pepper sauce and I finished with Iles Flottants, which is such a delicate dessert and so rarely found on American menus—it was swimming in a sea of custard and was studded with toasted nuts and drizzled over with a caramel sauce. It was quite the best iles flottants I have ever eaten and even Livia was astonished at the size of my helping. Since I had asked for sautéed vegetables instead of frites, I ended up getting both! Livis had the French onion soup that she pronounced to be simply superb and a Lyonnaise casserole of meat rolls. My dessert was so large that I urged her to share it with me. It wasd a simply delightful meal—although I would have preferred to have my steak (ordered medium rare) done better. I am discovering that it is best to ask for a well-done steak in France. As French gastronomy goes, this was up there.

Back Home:

Livia and I parted company at about 8.00 pm after having had a lovely evening together and catching up on all sorts of personal and family news. We took a few pictures together on the Champs-Elysses and then I headed home and went straight to bed at about 10.00 pm after what had been another very fruitful day.

A demain…

 

T’Was All About Impressionism…Macarons…and Crepes.

December 6, 2016, Tuesday: Paris

Today was all About Impressionism…Macarons and Crepes

I awoke at 6.00 am (yes, to the sound of the tram bell). I showered and fixed myself a smoked salmon baguette with salad which I would carry for lunch and ate pain de chocolat for brekkie. By the time I left my place it was 9.45. I arrived at my destination, the Musee d’Orsay, at 10.30 am. Having been here several times, I did not expect to stay beyond noon.

Exploring the Musee D’Orsay:

I could not have been more delusional. The Musee d’Orsay is so huge and so crammed with artistic wonders that it deserves a whole day devoted to its exploration. As it turned out, I began my examination of its masterpieces quite systematically, on the ground floor, as I took in its sculptural treasures—Rodin, Carpeaux, mixed media African busts by Cordier (which I adore) before I made my way to the end of the hall only to find a special section devoted to the Opera Garnier and the artistic genius of Charles Garnier! Now what are the odds that I would have visited it only the previous day? Had I not taken the tour, I would have just skirted through this exhibition. As it turned out, I gave the section a great deal of time and attention and was completely taken by the model of Paris featuring the Opera building built on scale beneath our feet and protected by a glass floor. There was also a brilliant cross-section of the entire building that gave glimpses of the kind of décor that had fascinated me yesterday. You could see a miniature version in this model of the original ceiling rondel as it had existed before Chagall presented his Modernist one.

I made my way by elevator then to the top-most floor and decided to head downwards via the stairs. At the top, I came upon the huge clock that acted as the clock of the Gare d’Orsay (when it used to a major railway station). The manner in which this building has been repurposed to house the national Impressionist collection is simply stunning and no matter how often I come here, I still remain awed. Through the clock’s hands, one can see the city of Paris spread out with the church of Sacre-Coeur at Montmartre clearly visible in the distance. As I moved inside, I found the balcony (which is open only in the summer) which offers incredible views of the Seine and the buildings on its banks including the Louvre. Of course, once my viewing of the paintings began, there was no stopping my camera. I clicked incessantly—from Whistler’s Mother to Manet’s Flautist and Odalisque, from landscapes and snowscapes by Sisley and Pisarro to Monet’s Poppies, Ladies with a Parasol and his Waterlilies, from Renoir’s portrait of a very young Monet to his portrait of Berthe Morrisot and his twin paintings of City and Country Dancing, from Cezanne’s mountain views and Card Players to a few by Rousseau—all the Masters were there, vying for attention. I went past the Café Campagna and made my way to the lower floor where the grandeur of the Impressionists continued. I took some more pictures of works by Van Gogh, Seurat and Cezanne and then eventually, with my tummy rumbling and my feet begging for a rest, I went into a small café and ordered a sandwich. I did have my own in my bag but I simply could not find the space to sit down and eat my own lunch. The sandwich I bought was eaten at a stand-up counter but it gave me the rest I needed.

During the second half of my tour of the museum, I focused on the lowest level and as I wound my way in and out of the galleries, I saw works by Bonnard, Courbet and even Modernists like Picasso. The lower level presents a mixed bag—there are gigantic works and there are very small canvasses. I was fairly drooping with fatigue by the time I finished looking at every painting, but as I was keen to see Manet’s Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe and could not find it in its regular position, I asked a guard where it could be. He told me that it had been moved temporarily into the special exhibition on the ‘Second Empire’. So off I went to the opposite side of the lowest level and there I gave myself up to the thrill of seeing all sorts of 19th century items–from letters and sculpture to paintings and decorative objects: some of which were so stunning that they took my breathe clean away. Finally, in the last gallery, I did see the Manet masterpiece I had been seeking and when I had taken a good close look at it (for the nth time), I decided to get a move on—as I was really really tired. So, in the end, by the time I left the Musee d’Orsay, it was 4.00 pm!

Off to Pierre Herme for Macarons:

When I had last lived in Paris, four years ago, I had indulged in a great deal of gastronomic treats from artisanal bread from Eric Kayser and cheese from Barthelemy…but one thing I hadn’t quite managed to taste were the incredible macarons made by the inventor of them himself—Pierre Herme. This time I was determined not to leave Paris without sourcing, finding and feasting on them. I had used the internet to find out that one of his extraordinary patisseries is near St. Suplice Chruch and that was where I took the metro in search of it. I found it soon enough and when I went inside, I saw that he had a special Christmas range based on foie gras. It was not long before I bought a box of macarons—7 come in a long box—plus a special one made with truffles (that comes in its own special packet). I was pleased to take them home and enjoy each one separately. I also bought two of his croissants—one being his signature IsfahanL a combination of rose, raspberry and lychee (flavors that had resulted in the creation of his famous pastry called the Ispahan)—well, this was the croissant equivalent. I also bought his Croissant Poire William, filled with a pear puree and studded with candied pears. Breakfast for the next couple of days was sorted! And would be special!           

Crepes for Dinner in Little Brittany:

Also on my list of Must-Do Items before leaving Paris was eating crepes—and since Lonely Planet had extolled the virtues of a place called Chez Josephine in Little Brittany, off I went to find it. It was practically in the shadow of Tour Montparnasse. It had turned dark by the time I reached there…and guess what??? It was closed on Tuesdays!!! Duh Me! Well, I had no choice but to look for an alternative place and I found it at Creperie Bretonne. There, I settled down in an empty creperie, after I inquired and found out that it was not too early for me to be served dinner at 5.00 pm. I chose to each a Crepe Rennes which was filled with ham, Swiss cheese and mushrooms—and it was scrumptious! I savored it with a large decaff café au lait and feeling very pleased with my very early dinner, I made my way out about an hour later.

Home to Relax:

Fairly falling with fatigue, I made my way back home on the metro and reached at 6. 30 pm. I sat propped up in bed and caught up with email and the world’s news and facetimed with Llew. Then, at about 9.00 pm, I ate a smoked salmon salad that I made with my greens, smoked salmon, blue cheese and nuts—douzed with salad dressing. When I felt ready for bed, I brushed and flossed my teeth and turned out the light.

A demain!  

Two Items Ticked Off a Parisian To-Do List: Opera Garnier and Cafe Angelina

December 5, 2016, Monday:

Two Major Parisian Items Ticked off To-Do List—Opera Garnier and Café Angelina for Hot Chocolate           

Within a couple of days of being in Paris again, I felt as if I had never left. The ease with which I hopped in and out of trains, the fluency with which I spoke French with never a bit of hesitation, the confidence with which I sought out shops I wished to visit (often for the first time) and the determination with which I ticked off items on my Parisian To-Do List astounded even me.

Best of all was the daily waking to the sound of the tram bell outside my window on Boulevarde Jourdan which filled me with nostalgia for the summer when I used to live in the apartment next-door. When I drew my curtains back, I gasped for at 8.00 am, Paris was still pitch dark. In another hour, however, things had changed completely and by 9.00am, daylight had flooded the area, Parc Montsourris across the street had opened for the day, dog-walkers and joggers had begun taking their daily constitutionals and the day got on. I promised myself that I would ride the tram at least once and take a stroll around Parc Montsourris at least once before I left. And in this way, although I began to whittle my To-Do List down, I also constantly added to it.

I decided to shower in the morning before I left (as there was no hurry to start my day), folded my laundry, scoured websites to find out where to go and how to get there and grabbing two pain au chocolat from my stash, I left my place at 9.45 by the RER (B) and the metro to get to the Opera Garnier. Although I have loved this building for ages, I have never visited its interior—this was the day I would take a tour.

Exploring the Opera Garnier:

I arrived at the main entrance of the beautiful Opera Garnier building through the metro station called Opera—this brings you right to the junction where the Opera building meets other swanky streets. I spied Rue du Scribe and immediately decided that I would go to Fragonard, the French perfumier, to buy more goodies as gifts for London friends, right after my tour.

Inside, at the Box Office, they honored my Met ID card but I did pay 5 euros for a self-guided tour (which was simply brilliant) as I was unable to get a guided tour (one has to book in advance and pay 15 euros for it).

The Opera Garnier was Paris’ original Opera House (it is no longer in use for operas as there is a new one at the Bastille). It was built in the late 19th century by Charles Garnier—after whom it is named—who was Paris’ best-known architect. He knew he was getting a grand commission when named architect and he poured his greatest talent and vision into the enterprise. I consider his work on this building equivalent to the building of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London by Sir Christopher Wren in 1672.

The moment you enter this building, you stagger in disbelief, for it is so visually spectacular as to leave you speechless. Garnier spared absolutely no expense in creating this magnificent building. You start your tour in a circular Rotunda that has arched entrances and a grand stuccoed ceiling. It leads you into a vestibule that is noted for a very delicate sculpture of a lovely woman. Both sides of the vestibule are lined with floor to ceiling mirrors which can be very deceptive. You think that there are rooms beyond and then you realize that you are looking at yourself in the mirror—I must admit I got a bit of a shock when I realized that the reflection looking back at me was my own!

From this point, the grand sweeping marble staircase branches out into two sides and takes you to another stupendous landing where the interior structure becomes even more ornate. There are marble balconies emanating from both sides, there are loads of delicate sculpture, there are candleabras held in the hands of clusters of bronze nymphs. The ceilings are painted in the style of the ceilings of French castles and palaces. After you climb another set of stairs, you arrive at yet another landing where the sight of two caryatids catch your attention. They are created out of mixed media—bronze body parts, marble clothing.  Needless to say, visitors can be heard gasping audibly and cameras do not cease clicking. When you position yourself in-between the caryatids, you get sterling views of the higher levels of the building that seem to open up with such a wealth of decorative detail that it beggars description.

When you pass through the doorway flanked by the caryatids, you find yourself facing a door that leads to the Main Auditorium. Plush with red velvet seats and a horseshoe-shaped structure, it is similar to London’s Royal Albert Hall. The most interesting aspect is the ceiling which was once painted by a contemporary of Garnier but was repainted in 1964 by the Russian artist Marc Chagall. Not an inch of the auditorium is left undecorated. In the center is the notorious chandelier that plays such a big role in the opera, The Phantom of the Opera. In fact, there is a reference to the Phantom during the audio tour and visitors are directed to Box Number 5 at the end of the corridor where the Phantom (the ghost of the opera house) was known to lurk.

There are many marble busts of opera composers encircling the outside of the auditorium and prominent among these is one of Berlioz who was extremely popular in the time of Garnier. From this point on, the audio guide took me to parts of the building that were simply stacked with visual details—mosaics on the ceiling, paintings on the wall, sculpture every which way you turned. I entered a lovely circular Hall that was used during the intermissions for the devouring of ice-cream (I realize now where the tradition of selling ice-cream in the London theaters originates). This Hall is filled with beautiful panel paintings that depict the consumption of different kinds of food and drink. You then pass through a Solar Room—on the opposite side is a Lunar Room. At the very top, you get a sweeping view of the horseshoe-shaped staircase in its multiple levels until you get to the piece de resistance, the Hall of Mirrors.

The Hall of Mirrors at the Palais Garnier was created in imitation of the one to be found at the Palais de Versailles. Visitors are simply overwhelmed by what they see: ceilings and walls are covered with paintings in the Baroque style with classical gods and goddesses attended to by a multitude of heavenly beings, huge blazing chandeliers hang low from the ceiling, gilded sculpted rondels on the walls and ceiling, parquet flooring, Greek-style figures holding up giant clocks. After you have seen this gallery, everything else pales into insignificance.

There are, however, still many more rooms to be seen: the museum of fine arts, for instance, is filled with paintings depicting the opera house, opera stars through the ages and composers of various vintage. In the main entrance lobby, there are four marble sculptures of well-known opera composers. By this point in the tour, you are visually exhausted. However, the tour then takes you to the extensive gift shops where there is everything to purchase that your heart could desire.

It was about 12 noon when I emerged from the Opera Garnier, having undertaken one of the more stupendous visits of my travels. It was one of the best things I have seen in Paris. Although the place is used today for ballet and other dance performance, I would urge anyone going to Paris for the first time, not to miss a visit to the Opera Garnier. Not a moment inside it is ever wasted.

Off to Fragonard:

            Fragonard was just across the road in the Musee de Parfums. First-time visitors can take a guided tour of the grand hotel particulier (private mansion) that has been taken over by the company to showcase its involvement in the perfume industry. I had taken the tour on a previous visit to Paris—and so I went directly to the show room to buy myself some more soaps (I adore their flower-scented set of five) and sets of perfume. Was delighted to find sets that also featured a gold bracelet. I bought a couple and left.

In Search of Lunch at Frenchie:

By this point, I thought I ought to look for lunch and using Lonely Planet, I went in search of Frenchie—a small bistro, they said, with really good food. It was simplicity itself for me to use the public transport system as I possess a Navigo card (equivalent of London’s Oyster Card)—all I needed to do was top it up for a week of unlimited travel. As it turned out, it was a waste in my case and Paris happened to be riddled by pollution (because of unexpected changes in the atmosphere) and in an attempt to keep people off the streets, the public transport system was offered free of charge to all commuters for three consecutive days—so my pass for a week turned out to be a rather expensive buy. The 3-day free concession brought a bunch of beggars into the metro system and for the next couple of days, one was plagued by them as they got off the streets and on to the trains.

When I got to Frenchie, however, I found it closed for lunch on Mondays. However, on taking a look at its menu, I found it to be stacked with American fast-food type offerings such as hamburgers, corned beef Reuben sandwiches and pancakes that were quite unappealing to me. Everything was also frightfully expensive. I, therefore, walked out (the space was tiny  and there was no room at all), and found a Subway shop from where I bought a Sub Raclette—made with typically French-Swiss cheese such as Emmentaler. Having eaten it, I continued with my touring for the day.

Off to the Church of Madeleine:

I got back on the metro and arrived again at Opera and walked a couple of blocks around the square that surrounds the church of Madeleine in order to indulge in some degustation—the French art of tasting food. Although the famous Fauchon was open and offered the pleasure of tasting a few teas and a couple of other nibbles, Hediard, another temple to gastronomy was closed temporarily for long-term renovation. A notice on the door advised patrons to buy their supplies online. I also then made my way to the Pinoteque—a theater that showcased avant garde movies and theatrical offerings, but, to my amazement, it had closed down sometime last year and nothing has taken its place.

Making my way to the main entrance of the Church, I entered its hushed dark interior and walked towards the front to spend a few minutes in quiet prayer. Built in extreme classical style—a simple cube surrounded by Corinthian columns and topped with a carved pediment featuring Christ in the Heavens—it is quite a commanding presence.

Looking for the Jeu de Paume and the ‘Ring Trick’:

My next port of call was the Museum known as the Jeu de Paume which, before the conversion of the Gare d’Orsay into the Musee d’Orsay, i.e. about 35 years ago, used to hold the country’s collection of Impressionist paintings. Since then, it has been used to hold exhibitions of photography and since I had never been inside, I decided to pop in.

However, as I was walking on the Rue Royale, past all the showrooms containing French decorative arts (such as Lalique, Christofle and Daum), I was almost taken in by what is called the ‘ring trick’. A woman just ahead of me bent down and picked up a gold ring. She offered it to me and said that her religion that she told me was Presbyterian, did not allow her to keep it. I took a look at it and saw that it was unlikely to be real gold. But inside there were hallmarks! I told her that I did not want it and that she could hand it over to the police. She then asked me for a few euros as it was her lucky day! I almost put my hands into my bag to give her a few when I realized that the whole thing was a set-up about which I had actually been warned by Lonely Planet. In fact, I was annoyed at myself for almost getting taken in by it. As she waited to get a few euro coins from me, I told her that I was not happy about tricked in this fashion and walked right away.

When, a few minutes later, I did get to the Jeu de Paume, alas, it is closed on Mondays—which made my visit futile.

Hot Chocolate and Afternoon Tea at Café Angelina:

I walked briskly along Rude de Rivoli in search of Café Angelina which supposedly serves the best hot chocolate in Paris. In the past, I have tried the teas at Laudree, another salle de the of exceeding fame and popularity in Paris. But my friend Delyse had told me about Café Angelina and I decided to check it out this time round. Its hot chocolate is so decadent that they actually serve it with a little pot of whipped cream at the side.            

             I found Café Angelina to be a tea room in the grand French style—dripping with dazzling chandeliers and lined by marble paneling. There were little round marble tables and I was seated at one on a round chair into which I sank. When I looked at the menu, I discovered that Hot Chocolate and a pastry would cost me only a few euros less than the full Afternoon Tea which included sandwiches and a selection of pastries and cakes in addition to the hot chocolate for 20 euros. My initial unease at being alone in the establishment was soon dispelled by the fact that I noticed so many single women sipping tea or hot cholate alone and tucking into the pastry—so what I had attempted to do was far from unusual.

My Afternoon Tea arrived on a two-tiered stand with savories on one level (finger sandwiches composed of chicken salad, ham and cheese and smoked salmon) as well as a cheese scone and a top level that contained a raspberry pastry, a lemon macaron, a madeleine (how can you have tea in France without a macaron and a madeleine, right?) and a small Mont Blanc which is a pastry that was created at Café Angelina. It is a chocolate-based pastry, topped with a chestnut flavored cream frosting and filled with chocolate ganache and whipped cream. You can order a single one (which is much larger) or this miniature version which offers you a sampling of it as well as other pastries. As for the hot chocolate? Was it as good as promised? Well, let’s just say it was terrific and I would gladly have had at least another cup.

It was while I was seated at Café Angelina and using their wifi to check messages on my phone that I received the shock of my life. Our NYU-London site director, a fine colleague and a good friend of mine, had passed away after a brief illness. I found myself reeling with a sense of sudden bereavement. How was it possible that someone so vibrant and so dynamic could just fade away? Only two weeks previously, he had played such a big role in the presentation I had made to NYU faculty members and staff in London. And now he was gone. Just like that. I found it hard to contain my grief.

Towards the end of my long stay at Café Angelina (where I did not feel in the slightest hurried), a young couple of Indian heritage occupied the table next to me. We entered into conversation and I soon discovered that they were from Long Island! For the next half hour, we chatted until I felt rested enough and decided to leave.

Darkness had fallen over the city although it was still pretty early in the evening. Had I more energy, I would have stayed outdoors and nipped off to another venue. But I was dead tired and the sad news had robbed me of a good mood. I was ready to call it a night. So I took the metro home, reached at 7. 30 pm and got ready for bed where I checked email. My late full tea did not require me to eat dinner. I was, therefore, off to sleep by 9.00 pm.

A demain…

 

Free Sunday Rolls Around Again in Paris

December 4, 2016, Sunday:

Free Sunday Rolls Around Again in Paris.

One of the great advantages of being in Paris on the first Sunday of each month is that you get to enter a lot of the museums and monuments for free. Most folks make a bee-line for the better-known ones such as the Louvre or the Musee d’Orsay. But, having seen those several times before and being pretty certain that my Met ID card would get me into those for free, I chose to go to places I had never visited—and so after much research on the net, I zeroed in on four places to see—if I could muster the stamina and the endurance to see them all.

Off to the Cathedral of Notre Dame:

After carrying two pain au chocolate for breakfast, at 9.00 am, I used my carnet of 10 metro tickets and hopped on to the RER (B) from Cite-Universitaire to get to St. Michel. From there, the Cathedral of Notre-Dame is just across the street. My idea was to get to the Cathedral for the 9. 30 am Lauds service which was quite well attended by locals and a number of tourists. It lasted 30 minutes and at 10.00 am, I joined the line at the side of the Cathedral for free entry onto the spiral staircase that leads to the twin towers. I had never been up there (although I have visited and attended services in the Cathedral pretty often), and was rewarded with an absolutely fabulous day—clear and sunny (although freezing cold). This would ensure really spectacular pictures of Paris seen from a height.

Climbing to the Towers of Notre-Dame:

Having reached the line at 10.00am, I was shocked to find that there were at least 300 people in the line before me. So although the entry door opened at 10.00 am sharp, by the time I entered, I had waited in the line for one hour and 10 minutes. And the wait was brutal because the temperature was unseasonably low. Although I was very warmly clad, after about half an hour in the line, I started to freeze and actually had to enter one of the souvenir stores to warm myself.

In the end, however, the wait was fully worthwhile, for the bird’s-eye views of the city from the towers are hard to describe in words. Baron Hausmann’s glorious city was basking in the winter sun in its lovely ivory shade of Caen stone punctuated only occasionally by a recognizable spire of a church or a landmark building that was easy to recognize. I took so many pictures of the buildings and of the Seine and its bridges snaking around the city. However, it was not just the city that lay as if showing itself off at its dazzling best and waiting to be photographed, that caught my eye; it was the umpteen architectural features by which I was surrounded that had me completely enthralled. The famous gargoyles, for instance, created through the genius of Violet Le Duc, can be seen up close and personal. Great ugly stone animals and birds (such as eagle-like griffons) that are unrecognizable form the Gothic water spouts through which rain water is ingeniously siphoned down the building. There are statues of saints and a number of angels in prayer that would be impossible to see from ground level. The huge bells of the Cathedral are so close when you are up in the towers that to hear them peeling is to jump out of your skin. As I stood there taking photographs, I simply could not help thinking how worthwhile it was to have climbed 450 steps to get to the top. In fact, after one has circumnavigated one level of the tower, there is another flight of stairs to climb to get even higher. It was rather grudgingly that I climbed those, but from up there too the views that came into focus were sublime—the Eiffel Tower, the heights of Montmartre with the Church of Sacre-Coeur crowning it, the funky design of the Centre Pompidour designed by the Italian Renzo Piano, the confection that is the Opera Garnier designed by the one and only Charles Garnier, the dissimilar spires of the Church of St. Suplice, the ugliest tower in Paris (Tour Montparnasse), the Pantheon with its serene dome and the exuberant golden Dome Church at Les Invalids. I have to admit that I had a field day and was absolutely thrilled with my decision to get to the top as it was my first time—and probably my last (although never say never!). I seriously cannot see myself being able to repeat the feat of scaling 450 steps—and so I was also delighted that I had the perfect day on which to click my pictures.

Back on Terra Firma:

By 12 noon, I was back on terra firma and dying for some hot chocolate as I was unbelievably cold. As I walked along the back street, past the many souvenir stores that have sprouted on the streets leading from the Cathedral to the Seine, I arrived at Rue du Renard where I found a McDs! It was with such relief that I went inside to order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and gave my feet a well-earned rest. But then, not wanting to waste too much time on free Sunday, I hastened away to the next item on my agenda, past the legendary department store called BHV (and from where we once bought the best can-opener in the world!) to arrive at the Musee Picasso—the next item on my list.

Visiting the Musee Picasso:

About 30 years ago, on my first visit to Europe, I had received my first introduction to the world of the legendary Pablo Picasso in this museum. I can still remember seeing the giant painting of Les Demoiselles D’Avignon at the entrance and being stunned. I can recall walking in reverence from room to room as I reviewed Picasso’s work from phase to phase in his life. Marvelous curatorial notes in each gallery introduced the many influences in his life, the many women who crowded it and became subjects of his work, the many places in which he lived and found inspiration, the many experiments he conducted with form and color as he traced a trajectory that took him from realism during his early years in Barcelona to the varied ‘color’ phases—his Blue phase, his Rose Phase–his experiments with Cubism, his imitations of the work of the Masters  (his obsession with Velasquez, for instance, that resulted in the endless variations he created of Las Meninas). I had seen them all and understood with exceeding clarity, very early in my life, what Picasso had attempted to do and why he is regarded as perhaps the greatest artistic genius of the 20th century.

When I lived in Paris, four years ago, the Musee Picasso, which is located in a lovely hotel particulier (private manor) in the city on the Rue de Thorigny, was under renovation. They were going to re-structure it so that it would cease to be chronological and would only display some of his masterpieces at a time and often in conjunction with the work of other contemporary artists. Thus, when I arrived at the venue at about 1.00 pm, I found about 75 people in the line before me.  However, the line (unlike the one at Notre-Dame) moved speedily and I was inside in about 20 minutes.

Exploring the Musee Picasso:

This time, to my utter disappointment, I found that the museum had completely changed its display style and I am afraid I was neither impressed nor delighted. The early work was present but then the work transitioned too suddenly and with barely an adequate explanation from one gallery to the next. Also, this time the exhibition featured the work of Picasso and Giacometti, the sculptor who also made Paris his home. I surveyed the comparative exhibits very carefully and enjoyed it, undoubtedly…but my enjoyment and enlightenment were not nearly as profound as they had been 30 years ago. Still, I am glad I re-visited this museum and I would say that to anyone who has not been to it, a trip to Paris ought to include this museum.

Off to the Fondation Cartier:

Next on my agenda was a visit to the Fondation Cartier—which, as its name implies, was created under the patronage of the famed French jewelry house. My interest in seeing the place was to view the architectural genius of the great Jean Nouvel whose work I have seen in various parts of the world (the Opera House in Lyon, the Musee de Quai Blanchi in Paris, a Tower in Barcelona, etc). He is an architect with a non-conventional vision. He introduced the concept of blurring the lines between indoor and outdoor spaces, of creating hanging gardens that scale a whole wall, of using glass walls to block out traffic sounds, etc. So off I went to the Rue Raspail by metro to get to the museum—not really knowing what to expect inside.

To my surprise, a rather weird exhibition themed around ‘The Orchestra of Animals’ was in full swing. It had attracted a great deal of children (it was, after all, a Sunday) and was portrayed through multi-media. There were movies, film clips, paintings and, downstairs, in the basement, some more rather strange films. The exhibition wasn’t really my cup of tea at all, but I have to say that Novel’s building is striking. There is a lot of glass (his signature touch), miles of what look like pipes and loud primary colors everywhere. I did not spend too much time here and within the hour, I was out.

Off to the Arc de Triomphe:

Nightfall was not too far off by the time I emerged from the Fondation Cartier and out on the street. I took the metro again and made my way across the Seine on the 6 line which runs aloft and overground for most of its route. When you cross the Seine on the 6, you get glorious pictures of the Eiffel Tower and by day or night, it is compelling. My destination was the Champs-Elysses as I was headed to the Arc de Triomphe to climb it for the first time—also for free. I dreaded to think of how long the line would be, as it had been a long day and I was fatigued. But I pressed on and I arrived at my venue at about 5.00 pm when it had already become pretty dark.

A Word about the Champs-Elysses:

When I emerged from the metro station, I was stunned. The Champs-Elysses, the main artery that radiates from the Place de L’Etoile and the Arc de Triomphe, which some folks believe to be the most stylish of Paris’ avenues and certainly the one most used for public parades, was ablaze with Christmas color. It is indeed such a great time to be in Paris. The city is wearing its holiday best. There are lights everywhere. The stores are simply glittering with eye-candy of every sort. The jewel in the crown, however, is the Cartier building which was covered with red lights and wrapped in a dazzling bright red bow with the Cartier logo, the panther, also picked up in lights at the top of the building. I would have liked to have lingered longer on this lovely avenue, but I did not want to have too long a wait to get to the top of the Arc and hurried along.

Climbing the Arc de Triomphe:

There were about 250 people in the line ahead of me when I reached the Arc de Triomphe which looked gorgeous in the reflected aura of so many holiday lights. The line also moved quickly and in an organized fashion and, in no time at all, I was at the top taking in the beauty of the city as picked out in its lights. This time I had climbed 250 steps—you can just imagine how heroic I felt after having climbed 450 steps in the morning! I do not believe that I will ever be capable of accomplishing this again. The climb to the Arc was also the first time ever that I would be undertaking it—and so I was excited.

All the way to the top of the Arc, there are exhibits—trivia and other facts that can keep the visitor occupied. Once at the top, you circumnavigate the viewing platform to take in the sights. I deliberately decided to see the views of Paris from the Cathedral of Notre-Dame by day and then to see the same sights by night from the Arc de Triomphe as I was sure that illuminations would portray the city in a completely different light (pun unintended!). Needless to say, I caught the Eiffel Tower ablaze at the 6.00 pm hour and that was a thrill in itself. I went through the process, all over again, of taking dozens of pictures and was particularly taken by the Champs-Elysses itself with its holiday decorations and its giant Ferris wheel at one end (close to the Place de la Concorde). By the time I descended all those steps again and came down to ground level, I found out that the daily ceremony of the Changing of the Guard that takes place around the immortal flame at the tomb of the unknown soldier, was in full swing. It was quite moving to see the simple pageantry with which these rituals are observed. It involved reading from a text, the hoisting and carrying of the bleu, blanc, rouge, the blowing of bugles and the singing of the national anthem, La Marseillaise. Again, I took many pictures and thought to myself how wonderful it was that I was having all these varied experienced on a single day.

By this time, as you can understand, I was quite drooping with fatigue and decided that I needed to get straight back home. However, I was hungry and needed something more substantial than a salad—so I hopped into a McDs to get myself a Croque Monsieur which is a toasted ham and cheese sandwich—I got a takeaway and was soon on the train arriving at my room at 9.00 pm. I was exhausted and after eating it with a salad, I showered and did not waste any time in going straight off to sleep.

Free Sunday in Paris had been a resounding success!

A demain!      

Au Revoir Cote d’Azur, Bonjour Paris

December 2, 2016, Friday:

From Nice to Paris:

When we awoke in Nice with the realization that our direct non-stop train back to Paris was only at 11.00 am, we made the impromptu decision to go back to Monte Carlo for breakfast—this was so that Llew could see the city (and the country, Monaco) by day. With our bags packed and left waiting for our return, we set out to Nice station and boarded a train that was leaving for Monte Carlo right away.

It was while we were on the train that I realized that it would be making a stop at Eze—which is reputedly one of the prettiest villages on the Cote D’Azur. I talked Llew into getting off and exploring it with me. However, the train station is called Eze Sur Mer—i.e. Eze by the Water. The village of Eze which is visit-worthy is tucked up high in the steep gray mountains that are a backdrop to the small village near the station. There we made inquiries about a bus that would take us up to the village—but we soon discovered that there was nothing until 10.00 am and that taxis to get to the top would cost us no less than 50 euros—plus, when we arrived at the top, the entire town would be closed as nothing opened until 10.00 am. Left with very little choice, we made the decision to scrap our plans for Eze Village and to return to the station to board a train to Monte Carlo. We lost about twenty minutes in the process, but there was still time for us to take in the city by daylight.

Breakfast in Monaco:

Luckily for us, a train pulled up pretty soon—within ten minutes—and off we went to Monte Carlo. We hurried out and walked towards the waterfront. En route, we picked up chocolate brioche from a supermarket and takeaway coffee and seated at the edge of the water with small watercraft and luxury yachts lined up in the harbor as well as the stone façade of the Royal Palace of Monaco (that I have visited and toured on a previous visit about 30 years ago when both Prince Rainier and Princess Grace were still alive), munched quite happily. The gorgeous buildings that we had seen, the previous night, clinging precariously to the sloping mountains looked completely different (but no less pleasing) by day. We took a few photographs as we sat on the parapet overlooking the harbor and ate. The temperature was just perfect and the scene could not have been more exciting. I was glad that although our return detour to Monte Carlo was brief, it was still completely worthwhile.

On the Train from Nice to Paris:

Back in our hotel, we picked up our bags and made our way to Nice station well in time for the 11.00 am train that took us non-stop to Paris. As was to be expected, we thoroughly enjoyed the ride along the Cote d’Azur that we were lucky to do for the second time. I sat by the window and took as many pictures as I could take from a moving train which basically retraced our route of the previous day going through Marseilles and Avignon and the green fields of Provence before taking us through the vineyards of Bordeaux and on to Paris where we arrived at about 4.00 pm at Gare de Lyon. We walked a few minutes across the Seine to Gare Austerlitz to pick up Llew’s consigned bag from the Left Luggage Locker and then took the Metro to make our way on the RER (B) to Cite-Universitaire where I had booked a room for the week at the Fondation des Etats-Unis. It was so exciting to get back in the RER train again as I had become familiar with this route during the summer I had spent in Paris, four years ago.

Settling into Cite Universitaire and Strolling Around Paris:

It was not long before we were picking up the key to our room at the Fondation. Indeed, it felt great to come home again—in a sense, as this place had been a much-loved home for me, a few years ago. Deciding again to make the most of Llew’s last night in Paris, we bought a carnet (book) of ten metro tickets and took the RER (B) again to St. Michel. From this stop, it is just the crossing of a road that gets you to the Parvis (courtyard) of the Cathedral of Notre-Dame and it was there, bathed in lovely soft light, that we took pictures of Paris by Night.

Our aim to get to the Ile de St. Louis to pick up ice-cream from the famed Berthillon Ice-Cream Parlor where we had frequently eaten ice-cream on our last stay in Paris. We got there by the skin of our teeth at 8.00 pm just before they closed. Llew chose Dark Chocolate and Glazed Chestnut flavors while I chose the Glazed Chestnut and the Passionfruit Sorbet. They were just delicious. Eating our ice-cream, we strolled along the banks of the Seine taking in the sights of the Eiffel Tower flickering again as it does at every hour. We stopped on the Pont d’Archeveche (which used to be festooned with the infamous locks—but not anymore!) to take more pictures and, walking along the quai, we returned to St. Michel to board our train and get back to our accommodation for the night.

Llew’s last night in France and of his holiday turned out to be perfect. We had two splendid weeks together and it was with a heavy heart that I would see him leave on the morrow. He was to awake very early to get to the airport and I decided to accompany him on the metro train for part of the way after which I would switch to a long-distance train to the Loire Valley as I still had use of our unlimited eight-day train tickets.

A demain!                         

 

Frolicking (Again) Through France–From Tel Aviv to Paris

Bonjour!

Following our eight-day tour of the Holy Land, Llew and I spent a week in France together using Rail Europe train passes. After his departure to the US, I continued to stay on in Paris. Here is an account of the week we passed together and the time I spent alone in France.

November 27, Sunday: Tel Aviv-Paris

We arrived in Paris from Tel Aviv at exactly 6.00 pm—our touchdown was made special by the fact that at each hour, on the hour, the Eiffel Tower glitters with thousands of lights that flicker for a whole five minutes. Imagine being greeted by this sight when we arrived! It was incredible. We could also see the Place de L’Etoile very clearly marked by the series of roads that branch out from the Arc de Triomphe. It was such a fabulous welcome to France and we were absolutely thrilled.

We went through Immigration , got hold of our baggage and made our way to the train station to catch the train to the city. We arrived at Gare du Nord on the RER (B) train and changed there to the Metro to get ourselves to Gare St. Lazare from where we boarded the 8.42 pm train to Normandy by activating our eight-day unlimited train travel tickets called Rail Europe that we had purchased in the USA. Our destination was Lison where our friend Jacques was awaiting our arrival—despite the late hour (it was 10.42 pm. by the time we reached him). Another 15 minutes of a drive to his little village of Quibou brought us to his sprawling farm called Hotel Cocagne where we had a lovely welcome from his wife Florence who we were delighted to see again after four years. (We had last met in Paris when I was staying there for a summer).

As Llew was starving (we had found no time to grab a sandwich and there was no bar car on our train), we did not refuse Florence’s offer of a quick bite. We settled down with good French bread and some roast beef with cheese and an apple cake for dessert over a glass of red wine. It was a fine entry to the kind of meals I would eat for the next couple of weeks. We did not waste too much time staying awake as our hosts needed to call it a day—and so within an hour of our arrival in Normandy, we went straight off to sleep in the lovely room that they had prepared for us.

A demain…

 

Au Revoir Israel, Bonjour France: Israeli Museum to see the Dead Sea Scrolls and Arrival in Paris

Nov 27, Sun

Jerusalem-Paris:

As agreed, we arose early and went down for breakfast at 7.00 am so as to wish our friends farewell. Then Llew and I lingered over our breakfast as we had finished packing and had our bags ready. At 9.30 am, as decided, our cab arrived at the hotel and transported us to the hired cab. The Israeli Museum did not open till 10.00 am but we wanted to be there at 10.00 am, so as not to waste any time. Accordingly, we told the cab driver to come to our hotel at 9.30.

Visiting the Russian Orthodox Church:

Since we finished our breakfast really early, the two of us decided to go for a walk around our hotel as there was still about an hour before the arrival of our cab. We were really happy to find signs directing us to a Russian Orthodox Church and since it was a Sunday, it was only appropriate that we should go in for a visit even if we could not catch a whole Mass.

The Church was only a few minutes from our hotel and it is strange that we did not see it earlier. Like most Russian Orthodox churches (and we had seen loads of these in St. Petersburg in Russia), this was ornate and filled with incense. We took in the sights of pictures and icons and when we had spent a while praying, we left and made our way to a store to buy some socks for our friend Cheri-Anne who had been looking for them.

We then took our purchase and returned to the hotel so that we could board our cab and get to the museum as soon as possible.

Visiting the Israeli Museum and Seeing the Dead Sea Scrolls:

Llew was very uneasy about our stop at the Museum as he did not want us to miss our flight. Security lines at the airport were notoriously long and we wanted to give ourselves at least 3 hours before our flight departed. Accordingly, we told the cab driver that we wanted to get to the museum as soon as possible. We got there about 9.45 am and were actually able to buy our tickets before 10.00. Thus, as soon as the museum opened at 10.00, we, who had found out exactly where the Dead Sea Scrolls are located, made a beeline for them. They are in a special white building built in a conical design (to imitate the tops of the pottery jars in which the Scrolls were found).

We were the first visitors into the Museum and into the Scroll Building. We met an old man who guided us about but told us that photographs were strictly prohibited. The building is round in shape with the scrolls exhibited in upright glass cases around the periphery. We found that some of them were just scraps in a bad state of repair while others were almost intact and remarkably well-preserved considering their antiquity. In the center of the Hall is a structure that looks like a huge rubber stamp. All around it are copies of the scrolls—but the originals are in the glass cases where they are kept in climate controlled conditions under very dim lighting. The scrolls are rotated every few weeks so that the same ones are never on display—this is another way of preserving them. We took a very good look at the scrolls and were absolutely thrilled that we had the opportunity to do so – as it is very unlikely we will ever return to Jerusalem.

However, having discovered that there were another two exhibits that I simply had to see, I pulled Llew in with me. One was a nano-sized Bible—the smallest in the world. On a computer chip, no bigger than my finger-nail, the entire Bible has been reproduced. It was simply incredible. This exhibit also had its own gallery.

The Model of Old Jerusalem:

Finally, the last item on our agenda in the museum was the viewing of a model of the city of Jerusalem as it had existed during the reign of King Solomon and before the destruction of the Temple. There was a viewing platform from which we could survey the entire structure and it was simply magnificent. In fact, in retrospect, I do believe that it was more stirring for me to see it than the Dead Sea Scrolls. It is hard to imagine how grand Jerusalem was in its heyday. Needless to say, the Temple dominated with the structure holding the Arc of the Covenant and the Ten Commandments made most prominent. It was a perfect example of urban planning—a sort of carbon copy of Rome in its own heyday. I took many pictures but then we had to hurry out.

A few minutes later, we were in our cab on schedule (at 10.20 am) and heading to the airport to get there by 11.30 am—which gave us exactly three hours before our departure. We had an absolute nightmare going through security because our Easyjet flight was at the smaller terminal and, to our amazement, once we cleared all the formalities, we had to board a shuttle bus and get to the main terminal from where our flight took off! I still can’t understand why we could not be cleared at the main terminal itself! So, in the end, it was a horrid end to our wonderful travels in Israel, but these glitches occur and we made it with time to spare at our departure gate and arrived safely in Paris at the start of our next adventure.

In fact, (I know Ian will find this hard to believe), but as luck would have it, we were touching down at Charles de Gaule airport at exactly 6.00 pm when the glittering, twinkling lights on the Eiffel Tower are switched on to hail each hour. They remain in that twinkling state for about 5 minutes—and that was the welcome we received as we spotted the Place d’Etoile on our touch down.

Conclusion:                                              

Going to Israel truly is a life-changing trip. Both Llew and I were so glad that we finally ticked that item off his Bucket List and that we did so in such a thorough manner, in such great company and with so much enjoyment. Our guide Moti was very knowledgeable and most obliging. Being on a private tour meant that we could add items in a spontaneous fashion to our itinerary. We saw and did so much that I am still processing it all. Writing this travelogue allowed me to relive many happy moments with much vividness…but I know that it will be years before I fully distill all the experiences we encountered in this profoundly complicated land.

Thanks for making the time to read this travelogue and to armchair-travel with us. Please do note that the opinions expressed are entirely my own and you might not necessarily be in agreement with me. But this is what I saw and what I experienced and it is one person’s impression of a decidedly complex trip.

 

Au Revoir France! Last Day in London…and Arrival Home in the USA

Thursday, July 30, 2009
Paris and London

Our very last day in Paris had arrived—where had our holiday gone? Awaking to a continental breakfast (cereal and French roast coffee), Llew and I set out to cover the last bits and pieces of Paris that we had not yet seen.

The Dome Church of Les Invalides:
Our first stop was the domed Church of Les Invalides where, Jack informed us, his daughter Julia had been baptized. This church is part of the much larger complex called the Musee de L’Armee and its extremely decorative dome is easily visible from many parts of the city to whose skyline it adds a definite glow. This is also the church in which Napoleon’s remains were interred after his death under exile on the island of Elba. The tomb is grand but can only be viewed with a hefty ticket which includes entrance to the vast museum complex (16 euros). Since we did not have the time for such an extensive visit, we contented ourselves with a peak into the highly ornate Baroque altar of the church, encircled the beautiful gardens outside that offered peeks of the tip of the Effiel Tower and then walked a very long walk to what Lonely Planet describes as the best chocolatier in Paris.

At Cacao et Chocolat:
The walk was just perfect and I realized afresh (as I did in London so often) that for me one of the greatest pleasures of traveling is walking through random streets of a city to absorb the daily life of the people far from the tourist hordes. As we passed by small neighborhood parks, enticing antiques shops and then the huge department store called Le Bon Marche (into which we stepped to take in its unique architecture that reminded us very much of the old Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay), we finally arrived in the area just past St. Germaine de Pres and the Latin Quarter and found Cacao et Chocolat, a very small and very exclusive artisinal boutique whose aroma was deeply appetizing.

Now Llew and I are both chocoholics; so for us arriving at this destination was a bit like arriving at the Gates of Paradise. After our long and very stimulating walk, our appetites had been whetted for some good European chocolate. I informed the very cheerful and friendly salesman that we had come in search of his shop from the recommendation in Lonely Planet. I asked him what he would recommend for seasoned chocolate lovers and he suggested a cup of their signature Hot Chocolate which we could enjoy at their tasting ‘bar’.

Yessss! This was Paradise indeed. The menu was handed over to us to peruse and I, having drunk the exquisite hot chocolate with chilli at Fassbinder and Rausch in Berlin (another great international chocolatier), decided to try the Hot Chocolate Epicee–with mixed spices (cinnamon, star anise, nutmeg, among others) while Llew decided to play it safe and go for the plain version (apparently the most popular of the lot). All the while, as we sipped this elixir of the gods, the salesman kept plying us with chocolate to taste from their flavors of the past and present months to the truffles for which they are known to the tiny dark and milk chocolate Florentines that we kept popping in our mouths to attain chocolate nirvana! We walked away from the shop, a good hour later, fully fortified for some more sight seeing and with a bag of dark chocolate studded with toasted hazelnuts in our firm grip. I have discovered that in my year-long travels I have stock piled chocolate from every capital city in Europe and a large part of our baggage back home to the US will consist of these irresistible gourmet treasures that I have purchased from master chocolatiers.

Off to see the Pantheon:
Then, we were off in the metro once again, to see the Pantheon, another one of Paris’s landmarks, also characterized by a gigantic dome. We arrived at the splendid Neo-Classical structure, the great handiwork of Jacques-Germaine Sufflot, who wished to recreate the grandeur of ancient Greece and Rome through this structure that was intended originally as a shrine to Paris’ patron saint, Genevieve.

It was King Louis XV who had vowed that if he ever recovered from a debilitating illness, he would build a magnificent church to Saint Genevieve but the church soon morphed into a place of honored burial for some of France’s most revered thinkers, writers and philosophers, architects of the French Revolution and of the intellectual thought and ideas for which the city became renowned. The monuments, down in the Crypt, tell the story of the vast influence that these figures have had on the history of the city—they include such names as those of Voltaire, Rousseau, Victor Hugo, Émile Zola, Jean Moulin, Marie Skłodowska-Curie, Louis Braille, Jean Jaurès and Soufflot, its architect.

Llew and I were really lucky to discover (after he bought his ticket for 6 euros as my Met ID card let me in for free) that there was a guided tour that would be starting soon. This would take us up the 268 steps to the very Dome for 360 degree views of Paris on what was a spectacular day. So, you see how we lucked out? Though I did not get up to the Tour Effiel (which would only have taken me to the first level anyway), here we were at the Pantheon able to avail of the exact same thrills—only from a different vantage point.

Of course, we joined the tour right away and began our steep ascent to the top. We stopped en route at two different levels to take in the extraordinary mosaics and the staggering dimensions of the interior—the lofty nave, the Corinthian columns, the many beautiful frescoes depicting the life of St. Genevieve that covered the walls and ceiling. It was really astounding.

And then there we were—on the roof—easily able to spot the many Parisian landmarks that we had visited ourselves over the past few days. There was Notre-Dame dominating the Ile de la Cite with the spire of Sainte Chappelle very close to it. There was the towering mountain on which stood the Church of Sacre Coeur at Montmartre. There was part of the great arch that defines the new area known as La Defense. There was the great expanse of green that singled out Pere Lachaise Cemetery which was to be the next stop on our sight seeing tour of the day. And there, of course was the Dome of Les Invalides Church and the Tour Effiel. What a fabulous time we had taking in the uniform construction of the city that grew and grew over the centuries under the loving hands of some of the world’s most talented architects. It was such a thrilling experience to see these vistas spread out before us and though we were running short of memory space in our camera, we managed to make room for a few stunning shots.

Once we got down again to base level, we began our exploration of the interior with its monumental memorials to such French sons as Diderot and then we descended into the Crypt, quite taken by the architectural elements that lay beneath holding up this colossal structure.

At Pere Lachaise Cemetery:
Then, we were off again…this time taking the metro to faraway Pere Lachaise Cemetery where so many well-known persons associated with the city lie buried. I was quite amazed by the vast size of this cemetery which continues to be used as a place of burial. Though there are detailed maps available at the entrance that lead visitors to the tomb stones of those legendary figures whose final resting places they might most wish to see, we did not have one with us and used the rather sketchy version available in my DK Eye Witness Guide Book. We also realized quickly enough that we could not afford the time to linger too long in the cemetery and would have to be choosy about which graves we would visit.

For the next hours, we climbed the many stairs that took us further and further up the hill upon which the cemetery is spread out, seeing along the way, the monuments that remember such famous French writers as Balzac and such controversial English writers as Oscar Wilde (whose tomb carries a beautiful piece of sculpture by Jacob Epstein—alas, so badly defaced by the anti-gay visitors to his grave) and the more contemporary Jim Morrison of The Doors fame whose tombstone records his full name as being James Douglas Morrison. The funerary sculpture that dates from the 1700s to the present date made very interesting viewing for it taught us a tremendous amount about changing trends in mortuary design. We did have a very interesting couple of hours in this space and were very tired when we finally decided to leave so as not to miss our Eurostar train later that evening.

Return Home to London:
We found a nice boulangerie along the way that allowed us to grab sandwiches which we then ate on the metro on our return to the Champs Elysses. There, we said our goodbyes and many Thank-yous to Julia and grabbed our bags and left for the last ride in the metro to the Gare du Nord where we were scheduled to board the 7. 19 pm train back to London.

Everything went smoothly as we passed through Customs and Immigration and boarded our train. We watched the French countryside whoosh past us as we sipped a glass of red wine and nibbled at crisps and then we were under the English Channel and emerging in Kent in England. Before we could say Eurostar, our train was pulling into St. Pancras International while there was still ample daylight left in London.

On the 63 bus heading home to Farringdon, we found it hard to believe that our dream vacation in London and France had come to an end. It would be memorable for several reasons and we were astonished when we thought about how much we had packed into it—from seeing Helen Mirren on stage to watching the birth of a new calf, from becoming acquainted with computer technology in modern dairy farming to making an emergency visit to a French hospital, from admiring the medieval ingenuity of female embroiderers at Bayeux to walking in the footsteps of unnamed American heroes on the battle-ravaged beaches of Normandy, from being dazzled by the spectacle of the Lido to sipping tea and nibbling pastries at Laduree, we had done so much on this trip.

At Sainsbury, I finally managed to top up cell phone minutes, bought milk for our last breakfast in London and then turned the key into the Farringdon loft where we ate a dinner based on leftovers in the fridge. We then turned our attention to the pressing task of concluding our packing for the USA to which, unbelievably, we would be headed the next afternoon.

Friday, July 31, 2009
London

Where our morning slipped to I have not a clue! All I knew was that I awoke by 6. 30 am being too keyed up to sleep any longer. It was the last time I would be awaking in London (for a very long time) and I savored the sensation for a bit before deciding I needed to get going.

Anyone seeing the state of our room that morning would never have dreamed that just a few hours later we could possibly have packed everything away and left our room and en suite bathroom in pristine condition. But bit by bit, suitcase by suitcase, weighing each item carefully as we added it to our bags and managing somehow to pack well the many breakable china and glass items I had purchased from the many charity shops and antiques stores I had scoured in the UK, we worked together to get everything in.

About half way through the morning, I realized that there was no way all my ‘stuff’ would fit into our four suitcase allowance. “That’s it”, I said to Llew. “We’re going to the Post Office and mailing all this off”. Thankfully, I had retained a few good boxes and I piled them with the last-minute things we had used such as our bed linen and down pillows as well as a number of books as Llew helped me tape them down. I also had the foresight to save a few of the address labels I had printed out weeks ago when I had mailed off my other stuff.

So there we were, on our hands and knees, assembling these boxes together. Meanwhile, I was juggling phone calls to the shippers to get shipping estimates, to the cab driver to order us a cab at 12. 30 and a host of other things that needed to be all tied up. We did manage to find the time to eat breakfast (toast with peanut butter and coffee). I cleaned the fridge and freezer and left notes for Loulou and Paul and then at 12. 25 pm, Llew began to stack all our baggage in the elevator to take it downstairs. What a huge help he was to me and how grateful I was to have him there to get me through the scramble at the eleventh hour to make everything fall into place. And we managed to do all this without a single impatient word to each other!!! Now that was an achievement!

In fact, what saved the day for me was that I had forgotten to put my writst watch back one hour after returning from Paris late last night. So at one point, when I thought it was 10.00 am, it was actually 9.00 am–omigawd! How thrilled I was to have that extra hour and how smoothly everything went from that point on. What an extra hour can do in a stress-fraught life, I thought!

We had a bit of a rucous with the cab, however, for the large-sized vehicle we had ordered to get all our baggage to Heathrow did not show up and when we called the cab company, it appears that there was a screw-up at the station. However, magically, another mini-cab happened to be cruising down our street (yes, just like that!)) and John, the driver, sensing our distress, stopped to inquire if he could assist. Next thing you know, he was piling our baggage into his shiny grey BMW and taking us to Heathrow by a most unusual route past Pall Mall and Buckingham Palace and then on to Kensington past the V&A and the Museum of Natural History. I cannot even begin to tell you how badly I wanted to weep for I had major withdrawal symptoms from this city that I have always loved but which, during this one unforgettable year in my life, had actually been my HOME!

Then, we were at Heathrow and being dropped off at Terminal 4 where we made the discovery that my Delta Airlines flight left from there while Llew’s American Airlines flight left from Terminal 3! We said our goodbyes knowing we would next hook up at Kennedy airport and he left to take the Airtrain to his terminal.

I went through security in five mintues and then was left with three whole hours to do some duty free shopping–except that Terminal 4 has a pathetic duty free area and within ten minutes I had seen all there was to see and, feeling deeply frustrated, found a free port that allowed me to use my laptop which was in my hand baggage. So I settled myself down and began hammering away at my keyboard and got a whole lot of writing done until my gate was announced and I took off!

London was bathed in golden sunlight as I took my last airborne looks at it. Then, we were soaring higher and higher into the clouds and land became invisible. I began chatting with my companion, a student of Art History at London’s Goldsmith College named Leigh, who was so excited that he was going to New York for the first time in his life. He proved to be good company through most of the flight during which I watched four movies! Yes, can you believe it?
Having watched just one movie (Slumdog Millionnaire) for the entire year that I spent in London, I saw four movies on my way out–as if making up for my long film famine–Second Chance Harvey (with Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman), Duplicity (with Clive Owen and Julia Roberts), New Girl in Town (with Rene Zellweiger and Harry Connick Jr.) and He’s Just Not That Into You (with everyone in Hollywood under the age of thirty–make that forty as I heard that Jennifer Anniston just turned 40).

Well, at JFK, darkness had fallen already at 8. 30 pm (9. 30 by the time I cleared Immigration, picked up my baggage and reconnected with Llew. And yes, the Immigration Officer did actually say to me “Welcome Back!”). Llew arrived about ten minutes later to the Passenger Pick-Up area in the rented car that he had picked up a half hour earlier (as his flight had landed before mine),

And then we were on the Van Wyck Expressway headed for the Whitestone Bridge and for Connecticut–and everything looked so familiar and yet so strange. All the highways seemed to have expanded during my absence and I thought to myself, “Welcome Back to Reality, Rochelle!” So I forced myself to burst out of my British bubble and using Llew’s cell phone made my first call in the USA to Chrissie–unfortunately, I only got her answer phone.

It was 10. 30 pm (exactly an hour after we set out from JFK) that we pulled into our driveway at Holly Berry House while Southport slumbered. Because we were tired and sleepy, we entered our home with only our carry-on bags, leaving the rest of the suitcases in the car to be hauled indoors in the morning.

It was about 11.00 pm when we fell off to sleep…

…and with that I had left Rochelle’s Roost in London behind me and was well and truly back in Rochelle’s Roost in Connecticut!

PS: A Million Thanks to all those who followed my blog faithfully through the past year. When I surface again from under all my unpacked suitcases and boxes, I shall put in a few more entries about the Highlights of my Year in the UK…

—until then, I shall say to you, in the finest traditions of the UK, CHEERS Mate!