After getting back into town after vacation, Sarah and I went to one of my favorite stretches of Paris: Ile St. Louis, smack dab in the middle of the Seine. We peeked into the shop windows, but I was discouraged as the nice cozy atmosphere that I usually relish here was diminished by the vast numbers of tourists, and lack of anyone French. Even my favorite little romantic accessories shop had replaced its wares with the gaudy baubles only the Red Hat Society could adore. Bummer.
We crossed the river, and just around the corner from the Hotel de Ville, by Metro 7 stop Pont Marie, is a sweet vine-covered and blooming passage that leads to some good frips [second-hand vintage stores] that I explored once with my friend Kitty and loved. Unfortunately for us, Paris weather is fairly fickle and it was cold and raining on us [we hadn't had umbrellas as the weather forecast we checked before leaving the house predicted sunshine at 73 degrees].
Saturday evening after a lovely sushi and sashimi dinner at home, Sarah and I went to another of my favorite parts of town, St. Germain des Pres, which just lights up and is bustling every night of the week with a good mix of hipster and classy clientele. We sat at a terrace bar and sipped our red and rose wines while watching passersby for my last Saturday evening out in Paris.
Today I had my last lazy Sunday, which commenced at 10:30am with my rolling out bed to immediately make my newly coined 'pink pancakes' [pancakes with mashed raspberries]. I spent the afternoon with Sarah at the Musee de l'Orangerie, where the famous curved-wall Monet murals are housed. We went to the Petit Palais afterward, as I have been meaning to get out there to check out the retrospective Yves St.Laurent exhibit before my departure. Unfortunately, it seems that August 15th is Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, so it was closed. Instead, we sought shelter from the continuous rain and drizzle at a street-side cafe for some cafe creme and a plate of fries - undoubtedly some of the best I have experienced this year.
By the way - French french fries really are better.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Two Weeks in Provence.
On the road again...
Jennifer, Sarah [next year's au pair who will be replacing me], Sebastian, Luke and I made our trek down the Autoroute 6 in the trusty Volvo on Friday, July 30th. Luis and Alexandra had the fortunate task of arriving by train, which takes roughly 2.5 hours and 0% heartache.
The first day of our journey, getting to Lyon, was pretty smooth sailing. Not a lot of traffic congestion on the highways, kids didn't scream much, and pulling into Lyon, we actually got a parking spot for our car right outside the hotel - which basically never happens in France! [To the hotel's credit, they did have a parking garage, but with our car-top carrier, we didn't even come close to fitting.]
We had a good roam around Lyon, and a nice Cote de Veau dinner, and after some profiteroles [for me] and mousse au chocolat [for Sarah], we dropped off a sleeping baby Luke back to Jen at the hotel. Upon recommendations of a friend from high school now living in Lyon, Sarah and I enjoyed a stroll along the river and around the cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon, the old district filled with lovely buildings, cool bars and lounges. The next morning, we took Sebastian for a tour around, ending up at a playground for an hour or so before hitting the market. Jen bought us sausages and cheese, plums, figs and prunes for the picnic-style lunch in the car for the rest of our south-bound journey.
Among the unchecked items from my bucket list, navigating and driving throuhg backroads of French country still remained. Fortunately for me, The Autoroute 7 was at a standstill, what traffic radio 107.7 called a 'journee noire' or level black traveling day... so we elected to navigate the sometimes perilous, but often picturesque small roads through the south of France. We passed through vineyards and fields of sunflowers, and stopped in a couple of small towns along the way to stretch our legs, for Jen to nurse Luke, and to refold the map.
Six hours later, four of those driving, we made it to the house! I can now claim success as a navigator through the French countryside, and check that one off of my bucket list for this year in France. The small hitch though, was that the last half hour of our journey was spent in circles about a block away from our destination, as unfortunately, all of our directions said to turn left, when apparently we actually needed to turn to the right. None of the addresses down there seem to have numbers, so we were desperately searching for one with a green gate and white shutters. However, with Luis and Alexandra waiting patiently in the road to flag us down upon our arrival, we eventually pulled into our very own old stone 'mas', a french farmhouse. The grounds were nicely landscaped, providing nice patches of smooth grass that would allow for games of tag and hide and seek for the next two weeks. To the west of the house was a small orchard, from which we enjoyed tart green plums, small red prunes and sweet peaches. To the east of the house was the swimming pool, in which we spent every morning and afternoon with or without the kiddies. Sarah and I shared a room on the west side, that was apparently originally the place where the pigs were kept! It had since been converted to a nice retreat, where we had a separate entrance [not at all connected to the house accept for sharing a wall], bathroom and beds. With the windows closed it was silent in the morning - a nice anomaly from having lived with toddlers and an infant for a year! We rented the place with a French family, the Aprils, who have three children of their own: a six year-old named Stanislas, a four year-old named Capucine, and a two month-old named Valentine.
I spent most of my time inside in the kitchen, and had the chance to put my cooking skills from the past year and my cooking class to use. Laurence even mentioned that I should set up shop as a traiteur, a caterer/chef, which was a lovely boost to my ego. : )
Sunday, Jen, Sarah, Luke and I ventured to Isle-Sur-la-Sorgue, a small island on the river Sorgue that is famous for its incredible markets and antiques brocantes. We found parts of the town enchanting, but the market was so touristy and the day so oppressively hot, we sought shelter at a riverside cafe under some grapevines and then made for home.
Unfortunately 'home' was plagues by wasps. So much so in fact, that Claude, the burly Provencal father of the owner lumbered on over to check the pH balance and add more anti-wasp chemicals to the pool just about every other day. The wasp problem culminated in a visit from the local pompiers [firefighters] who climbed to the roof and smoked out the three nests they found there. The kids loved the pin-pon of the classic French firetrucks, and after Stan, Sebastian and I had been stung, we were all grateful for the removal of the things.
A welcome retreat at the end of the first week, Sarah and I borrowed the car to travel off of the compound, our term of endearment for the fenced house and yard that we had not left for 6 days. Saturday night we went to Goult, tiny town, population: 900, for a jazz festival featuring a trio by the name of New Orleans that was enjoyable, save the slightly chilled air courtesy of the Mistral winds that blow through Provence from Siberia. [I kid you not, the winds actually are from Siberia...brrr.] Sunday we traveled to Gordes, from where there was a beautiful outlook across the valleys, vineyards and farmlands, a crumbling old chateau, and some lovely cobbled streets that did a number on my sandals and ankles. We sipped iced tea on the veranda of a five star cliff-side hotel, La Bastide, before departing for Bonnieux. Bonnieux was enchanting with its beautiful winding [uphill streets] and great views. We cooled off with a tasty treat in the form of gelati on a shaded terrace. We then went to Oppede le Vieux, where another crumbling castle from the 13th century marks the territory of the bloodthirsty Baron Oppede, who murdered and ransacked much of the land and population of the area.
Monday evening I went with Jen, Luis and all of the kids to the Guignol. Guignol is the traditional french puppet show featuring a hard-up puppet who at first you think is the bad guy, but is apparently the good guy, someone stealing food because they have no other means to live and a happy ending. I didn't catch much throughout, but was at least glad to find that neither did Jen, Luis, nor francophones Francois and Laurence, due to the heavy Provencal accent. [Think Eliza before and after Professor Higgins has finished with her.]
Avignon was a bit of a bummer, one of the towns that is kind of a city, but with no real vibe of its own, so it falls flat into the lump of towns that aren't as cool as Paris. However, Sarah and I went to market day in St. Remy on Wednesday, and perused linens, quilts, baby olive trees, lavender anything and everything, fresh produce and all of the other sweet offerings of a Provencal market. That was a truly wonderful day away from everything in a sweet town with blooming flowers, bubbling fountains and passageways that felt like secret gardens.
Friday we packed back into the car with the intention of missing most of the traffic which would block up the auto-routes, as apparently the entire nation tends to do their road trippin' on Saturdays. It was a good plan, and with the exception of 30 minutes traffic caused by construction on the right lane, we breezed back north and were able to be in Paris, and then at home by nightfall [total: 11 hours in the car, 8 spent driving].
Pulling into Paris, seeing the skyline which included the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, and Invalides, I realized just how much I am going to miss this beautiful city and the life that I have built here over the last year. I spoke with Becca on the phone that same evening, and she told me how much she missed it here and that sentiment was seconded by Jenna, and probably all of my other Paris girlfriends. So though it will be sad to leave the beauty and fun memories of this year here in Paris, I am so thankful to have been blessed with this opportunity and learning experience.
God has spent this year teaching me humility, servitude, patience and perseverance, love, gentleness, patience, kindness, and how to be a better, more faithful follower of Christ. I am wizened a little bit, cultured I hope, stronger in the face of snobbery, and maybe a tad more fashionable to boot.
Thank you for sticking in there with me, and for listening to me whine, prattle and romanticize.
Jennifer, Sarah [next year's au pair who will be replacing me], Sebastian, Luke and I made our trek down the Autoroute 6 in the trusty Volvo on Friday, July 30th. Luis and Alexandra had the fortunate task of arriving by train, which takes roughly 2.5 hours and 0% heartache.
The first day of our journey, getting to Lyon, was pretty smooth sailing. Not a lot of traffic congestion on the highways, kids didn't scream much, and pulling into Lyon, we actually got a parking spot for our car right outside the hotel - which basically never happens in France! [To the hotel's credit, they did have a parking garage, but with our car-top carrier, we didn't even come close to fitting.]
We had a good roam around Lyon, and a nice Cote de Veau dinner, and after some profiteroles [for me] and mousse au chocolat [for Sarah], we dropped off a sleeping baby Luke back to Jen at the hotel. Upon recommendations of a friend from high school now living in Lyon, Sarah and I enjoyed a stroll along the river and around the cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon, the old district filled with lovely buildings, cool bars and lounges. The next morning, we took Sebastian for a tour around, ending up at a playground for an hour or so before hitting the market. Jen bought us sausages and cheese, plums, figs and prunes for the picnic-style lunch in the car for the rest of our south-bound journey.
Among the unchecked items from my bucket list, navigating and driving throuhg backroads of French country still remained. Fortunately for me, The Autoroute 7 was at a standstill, what traffic radio 107.7 called a 'journee noire' or level black traveling day... so we elected to navigate the sometimes perilous, but often picturesque small roads through the south of France. We passed through vineyards and fields of sunflowers, and stopped in a couple of small towns along the way to stretch our legs, for Jen to nurse Luke, and to refold the map.
Six hours later, four of those driving, we made it to the house! I can now claim success as a navigator through the French countryside, and check that one off of my bucket list for this year in France. The small hitch though, was that the last half hour of our journey was spent in circles about a block away from our destination, as unfortunately, all of our directions said to turn left, when apparently we actually needed to turn to the right. None of the addresses down there seem to have numbers, so we were desperately searching for one with a green gate and white shutters. However, with Luis and Alexandra waiting patiently in the road to flag us down upon our arrival, we eventually pulled into our very own old stone 'mas', a french farmhouse. The grounds were nicely landscaped, providing nice patches of smooth grass that would allow for games of tag and hide and seek for the next two weeks. To the west of the house was a small orchard, from which we enjoyed tart green plums, small red prunes and sweet peaches. To the east of the house was the swimming pool, in which we spent every morning and afternoon with or without the kiddies. Sarah and I shared a room on the west side, that was apparently originally the place where the pigs were kept! It had since been converted to a nice retreat, where we had a separate entrance [not at all connected to the house accept for sharing a wall], bathroom and beds. With the windows closed it was silent in the morning - a nice anomaly from having lived with toddlers and an infant for a year! We rented the place with a French family, the Aprils, who have three children of their own: a six year-old named Stanislas, a four year-old named Capucine, and a two month-old named Valentine.
I spent most of my time inside in the kitchen, and had the chance to put my cooking skills from the past year and my cooking class to use. Laurence even mentioned that I should set up shop as a traiteur, a caterer/chef, which was a lovely boost to my ego. : )
Sunday, Jen, Sarah, Luke and I ventured to Isle-Sur-la-Sorgue, a small island on the river Sorgue that is famous for its incredible markets and antiques brocantes. We found parts of the town enchanting, but the market was so touristy and the day so oppressively hot, we sought shelter at a riverside cafe under some grapevines and then made for home.
Unfortunately 'home' was plagues by wasps. So much so in fact, that Claude, the burly Provencal father of the owner lumbered on over to check the pH balance and add more anti-wasp chemicals to the pool just about every other day. The wasp problem culminated in a visit from the local pompiers [firefighters] who climbed to the roof and smoked out the three nests they found there. The kids loved the pin-pon of the classic French firetrucks, and after Stan, Sebastian and I had been stung, we were all grateful for the removal of the things.
A welcome retreat at the end of the first week, Sarah and I borrowed the car to travel off of the compound, our term of endearment for the fenced house and yard that we had not left for 6 days. Saturday night we went to Goult, tiny town, population: 900, for a jazz festival featuring a trio by the name of New Orleans that was enjoyable, save the slightly chilled air courtesy of the Mistral winds that blow through Provence from Siberia. [I kid you not, the winds actually are from Siberia...brrr.] Sunday we traveled to Gordes, from where there was a beautiful outlook across the valleys, vineyards and farmlands, a crumbling old chateau, and some lovely cobbled streets that did a number on my sandals and ankles. We sipped iced tea on the veranda of a five star cliff-side hotel, La Bastide, before departing for Bonnieux. Bonnieux was enchanting with its beautiful winding [uphill streets] and great views. We cooled off with a tasty treat in the form of gelati on a shaded terrace. We then went to Oppede le Vieux, where another crumbling castle from the 13th century marks the territory of the bloodthirsty Baron Oppede, who murdered and ransacked much of the land and population of the area.
Monday evening I went with Jen, Luis and all of the kids to the Guignol. Guignol is the traditional french puppet show featuring a hard-up puppet who at first you think is the bad guy, but is apparently the good guy, someone stealing food because they have no other means to live and a happy ending. I didn't catch much throughout, but was at least glad to find that neither did Jen, Luis, nor francophones Francois and Laurence, due to the heavy Provencal accent. [Think Eliza before and after Professor Higgins has finished with her.]
Avignon was a bit of a bummer, one of the towns that is kind of a city, but with no real vibe of its own, so it falls flat into the lump of towns that aren't as cool as Paris. However, Sarah and I went to market day in St. Remy on Wednesday, and perused linens, quilts, baby olive trees, lavender anything and everything, fresh produce and all of the other sweet offerings of a Provencal market. That was a truly wonderful day away from everything in a sweet town with blooming flowers, bubbling fountains and passageways that felt like secret gardens.
Friday we packed back into the car with the intention of missing most of the traffic which would block up the auto-routes, as apparently the entire nation tends to do their road trippin' on Saturdays. It was a good plan, and with the exception of 30 minutes traffic caused by construction on the right lane, we breezed back north and were able to be in Paris, and then at home by nightfall [total: 11 hours in the car, 8 spent driving].
Pulling into Paris, seeing the skyline which included the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, and Invalides, I realized just how much I am going to miss this beautiful city and the life that I have built here over the last year. I spoke with Becca on the phone that same evening, and she told me how much she missed it here and that sentiment was seconded by Jenna, and probably all of my other Paris girlfriends. So though it will be sad to leave the beauty and fun memories of this year here in Paris, I am so thankful to have been blessed with this opportunity and learning experience.
God has spent this year teaching me humility, servitude, patience and perseverance, love, gentleness, patience, kindness, and how to be a better, more faithful follower of Christ. I am wizened a little bit, cultured I hope, stronger in the face of snobbery, and maybe a tad more fashionable to boot.
Thank you for sticking in there with me, and for listening to me whine, prattle and romanticize.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Île de Ré.
For one glorious week in the middle of July, I was fortunate enough to be whisked away to a lovely old house right next to a port, behind a bakery, at the beach. Île de Ré is an island on the Atlantic coast of France, with six or seven ports around both the north and south shores. It has been a go-to for ages apparently, and has been fending off English battleships and tourists alike since the 1100's.
The house that Jennifer and Luis procured for us was old in all the right places. Fully updated baths and kitchens, but still with exposed original beams and floors; arched doorways and heavy wooden doors. My bedroom and bathroom must have been designed by a genius with a heart for either the single aunt, au pair or nanny. To access, one had to walk down a hall [with a door to close], through the laundry room [with a door to close], and into my suite [with another door to close]! What a wonderful sound barrier from a 3 month-old, 2 year old and 3.5 year old! The room was decorated with a good combination of lilac, lavender, pink, red, and blue; and the tub was wonderful for each and every soak that I took in it every night! When at the house, we all basically lived int he courtyard: eating breakfast, lunch and dinner there, playing on a huge orange outdoor cushion, and attempting to keep Alexandra from biting Sebastian, Sebastian from poking Luke in the eyes, and Luke from wailing all the live-long day.
Saturday, our drive down, consisted of 9 looooong hours in the car [a Volvo SUV] packed to the extreme. Alexandra watched no less than 6 Dora the Explorer episodes on the in-car DVD player, and at least 2 Little Einsteins, 1 Handy Manny and 1 Backyardigans on Jennifer's iPhone. Sebastian enjoyed the shows as well, and slept for an hour and a half [unfortunately, this was before the long lunch break]. We stopped and stopped and stopped for those road-side potty stops that I remember from my childhood, and stopped again for gas, lunch and nursing the baby...
Sunday was a great day for me, with having it off, I slept in, ate fresh pastries from our bakery neighbors on the sunlit but shaded courtyard and went to the beach for 6 hours with a good book and some found Elles and Vogues. I spent each morning with the kids for a couple of hours, and then just with the baby, Luke, while Jen and Luis took the older two to some fun sporting adventure. Lunch, then I was off. I alternated my afternoons either napping and reading at the beach, or napping and reading in my fabulously tucked away bed.
I had two delicious dinners out, Sunday evening and Friday evening. The first, at a tasty little restaurant at the port-side, Le Belem. I had a pot of mussels steamed in Charente creamy suace [basically cream. butter, white wine, maybe some lemon grass], a vegetable plate with broccoli, potatoes and stuffed tomatoes, and a nice local rose wine. The second, at Le Skipper [I almost didn't go due to the grade-A dorky name] I enjoyed another local rose wine, a yummy fish bisque, a platter of assorted fish on pickled cabbage, and a lovely frozen tiramisu.
The car ride back to Paris the following week consisted of one screaming infant, one screaming toddler and one major detour in which the appropriate highway exit was forgotten once, and forgone another. We made it back in 6 collective pieces [that's one for each parent, child, and yours truly].
Since returning, I have moved completely out of the bedroom I have called mine for the past year and packed all but two weeks of clothing and toiletries into those huge checked bags that can no longer weigh more than 23 kilos, and the second costs me 44€ at that. What a whirlwind it is going to be! Packing has been really overwhelming and stressful. I am having to ship an 11-lb. box back home, as I don't have space for the clothes that it contains. This is all after donating 3 garbage bags full of clothes and shoes, mind you. I have wayyy too much stuff! But to me, at this simplified point after the donation runs, everything I am keeping is 'that cute top from Paris' or 'that dress that I can where to work [from Paris]' or housewares and investments that I plan to enjoy until I have daughters, nieces, and granddaughters to give them to. With my three packed suitcases, I am now in the guest room for the next four nights before our vacation to Provence, and three nights after.
Sarah, the au pair for 2010-2011, arrives tomorrow evening! I am looking forward to meeting her, helping her to get settled, showing her around and walking her through logistical steps that I had to navigate on my own way back in September of '09.
More to come after Provence!
Recommended reading: A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle.
The house that Jennifer and Luis procured for us was old in all the right places. Fully updated baths and kitchens, but still with exposed original beams and floors; arched doorways and heavy wooden doors. My bedroom and bathroom must have been designed by a genius with a heart for either the single aunt, au pair or nanny. To access, one had to walk down a hall [with a door to close], through the laundry room [with a door to close], and into my suite [with another door to close]! What a wonderful sound barrier from a 3 month-old, 2 year old and 3.5 year old! The room was decorated with a good combination of lilac, lavender, pink, red, and blue; and the tub was wonderful for each and every soak that I took in it every night! When at the house, we all basically lived int he courtyard: eating breakfast, lunch and dinner there, playing on a huge orange outdoor cushion, and attempting to keep Alexandra from biting Sebastian, Sebastian from poking Luke in the eyes, and Luke from wailing all the live-long day.
Saturday, our drive down, consisted of 9 looooong hours in the car [a Volvo SUV] packed to the extreme. Alexandra watched no less than 6 Dora the Explorer episodes on the in-car DVD player, and at least 2 Little Einsteins, 1 Handy Manny and 1 Backyardigans on Jennifer's iPhone. Sebastian enjoyed the shows as well, and slept for an hour and a half [unfortunately, this was before the long lunch break]. We stopped and stopped and stopped for those road-side potty stops that I remember from my childhood, and stopped again for gas, lunch and nursing the baby...
Sunday was a great day for me, with having it off, I slept in, ate fresh pastries from our bakery neighbors on the sunlit but shaded courtyard and went to the beach for 6 hours with a good book and some found Elles and Vogues. I spent each morning with the kids for a couple of hours, and then just with the baby, Luke, while Jen and Luis took the older two to some fun sporting adventure. Lunch, then I was off. I alternated my afternoons either napping and reading at the beach, or napping and reading in my fabulously tucked away bed.
I had two delicious dinners out, Sunday evening and Friday evening. The first, at a tasty little restaurant at the port-side, Le Belem. I had a pot of mussels steamed in Charente creamy suace [basically cream. butter, white wine, maybe some lemon grass], a vegetable plate with broccoli, potatoes and stuffed tomatoes, and a nice local rose wine. The second, at Le Skipper [I almost didn't go due to the grade-A dorky name] I enjoyed another local rose wine, a yummy fish bisque, a platter of assorted fish on pickled cabbage, and a lovely frozen tiramisu.
The car ride back to Paris the following week consisted of one screaming infant, one screaming toddler and one major detour in which the appropriate highway exit was forgotten once, and forgone another. We made it back in 6 collective pieces [that's one for each parent, child, and yours truly].
Since returning, I have moved completely out of the bedroom I have called mine for the past year and packed all but two weeks of clothing and toiletries into those huge checked bags that can no longer weigh more than 23 kilos, and the second costs me 44€ at that. What a whirlwind it is going to be! Packing has been really overwhelming and stressful. I am having to ship an 11-lb. box back home, as I don't have space for the clothes that it contains. This is all after donating 3 garbage bags full of clothes and shoes, mind you. I have wayyy too much stuff! But to me, at this simplified point after the donation runs, everything I am keeping is 'that cute top from Paris' or 'that dress that I can where to work [from Paris]' or housewares and investments that I plan to enjoy until I have daughters, nieces, and granddaughters to give them to. With my three packed suitcases, I am now in the guest room for the next four nights before our vacation to Provence, and three nights after.
Sarah, the au pair for 2010-2011, arrives tomorrow evening! I am looking forward to meeting her, helping her to get settled, showing her around and walking her through logistical steps that I had to navigate on my own way back in September of '09.
More to come after Provence!
Recommended reading: A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Lisbon.
I have picked up a cool trick since moving here: when I travel I now make sure to read before and/or during my travel a historical fiction novel set in the location which I am visiting. I highly reccomend it; you come to associate elements of your story's plot with what you are getting to see in front of you and it helps to piece back together those fragments of history that you would not otherwise really comprehend.
I think that a little fighting ation, treason, plotting, romance and conspiracy very much add up to a much better touristic experience. For example, in visiting London, I read The Other Boleyn Girl, about King Henry VIII and his court. It gave recognition to the Tower, where Anne Boleyn was beheaded, and perespective to the palaces in and around the city.
I was really fortunate to get to spend this last weekend in Lisbon, Portugal and so I read a book called The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon. It was about the expulsion of Jews from Lisbon and the giant massacre that took place at the turn of the 16th century. The focus of the story is on a man who is murdered at the time of these riots, but actually removed from the rioting and massacre itself. His nephew, the protagonist, seeks to solve the mystery set in the famous historical locations around Lisbon. It really created a vantage point for me in tihs instance, since there isn't much that i knew about Lisbon and its history prior to my visit and reading of this novel.
I arrived in Lisbon Saturday morning, from where I took the local bus into town. My only grievance with this entire trip was that the bus stops [and tram stops] were not at all clearly marked. Some weren't marked at all! The general idea is that you board this bus, mostly with locals, that does not have a site map or a list of stops that the bus will make. Thus, even if you know which stop you were at last, you have no way of knowing which one comes next! I was fortunate that the stop I needed, Picoas [pronounced pee-co-osh] was labeled. albeit in Times New Roman size 12...
I was able to find my hostel, Unreal Hostel, and get settled in to my bunk in an 8-person dorm. From my reconnaisance, at least 2 roommates were guys [judging by shoes] and I guessed one was either old or military, in that his bed was made to a T. I ate some PB&J I had brought from Paris, secured some maps from the front desk and headed out.
It was a picturesque walk from my hostel: really cool building with murals that stretched for their entire sides, the Murano mansion, and the Marques Pombal memorial statue. I turned down Avenida da Liberdade, which guidebooks called comparable to the Champs Elysees of Paris. Well, I beg to differ - the two streets have nothing in common! Champs Elysees is pretentious and touristy; whereas Avenida da Liberdade had tree lined pathways wide enough for groups to pass one another, fountains and some cafes and shops. Obviously, I much preferred the avenida.
I walked and walked and walked, and ended up on the Baixa Chiado, a cool 'lower' neighborhood. There are 7 giant hills that make up Lisbon, and though I am still a bit sketchy on the details of the topography of Lisbon, I am pretty sure this means that this neighborhood is on the side or at the bottom of a hill, versus atop one. I chose a cool cafe with a lovely terrace to enjoy a Coca Lite [I NEVER liked diet Coke at home, but here for some reason I do... weird]. After sitting and reading and people watching for a while, I strolled further on until coming across the main port, Cais do Sodre. I walked along the port for a bit, and then up to the Centre Comerical, where I found a cool market. I thought about buying a cool platter from an old lady that was hand painted in a marbled way, but I wasn't really into many of her color schemes, unfortunately. I have a vision of serving some fabulous hors d'oeurves on a lovely platter from somewhere exotic, but I guess it won't be from Lisbon.
Then I found the Se Cathedral, and jumped on the tram after a quick tour. I knew this was the tram I neded to be on to get ot the 5th century castle atop the tallest hill in Lisbon. But have I mentioned yet how bus and tram stops are not at all marked? We pulled up to a beautiful lookout point where bougainevillas [flowers] crested a wall which framed a stunning view of the sea below. I should have folowed my instinct to get off here, at least to take photos at this view, but alas, i stayed aboard the good ship Lollipop in assumption that a huge tourist spot such as the castle would be marked, and this one was clearly not. I was wrong.
I finally alighted from the blasted tram at the foot of the hill upon whihch sits the castle. I was not about to retry the tram system so I settled in to a nice uphill hike. About an hour later, completely drenched with sweat, my feet aching [it's ok - I carry ibuprofen at all times now], I made it! On the path though, I stumbled upon a gregarious group of German tourists who decided that I knew what I was doing, and that of all smart ieas, they should follow me to the castle! At first they were covert, following me around corners, then stopping for photos until they saw another turn which I was about to take. It made it more fun though; and eventually I asked them if they too were attempting to find the castle, and together we just walked up and up until eventualy we couldn't walk up anymore, and lo and behold there was the castle!
Afterwards, I was so pooped all I could focus on was the forthcoming shower that I needed to scrub off the grime of the city, eight layers of dried sweat and airplane germs from the morning. Arrving back at my hostel, I met the first of my roommates, Flaurent, and could barely compose myself to speak in French - that's how focused on showering I had become!
Clean and refreshed, I was able to now conduct a decent conversation with my French dorm-mate. He is a airplane mechanic in the French Air Force, and we had a good chat. It was also nice getting to know him, since he then took me out for dinner, and together we explored the Bairro Alto, famous for its night life and bar scene.
Sunday I explored Belem, where the Tower of Belem and the Mosteiro [Monastery] dot the famous landscape here. It was really neat to see, and the architecture of the monastery was stunning. I also really enjoyed the gardens there and the Archeological Museum. Though I do think that one of my very favorite things about being in Europe is the happenstance markets that seem to pop up everywhere! I love finding these, and the one I stumbled upon this morning was a treasure trove for the beautiful hand-painted tiles rescued from demolition projects around the city.
Sunday afternoon was a lazy one spent at the beach, of course after a minor ticket-office fiasco, and generally I enjoyed myself amongst the bajillion other sunbathers and teens playing soccer and volleyball, and the kids hooting on vuvuzelas and running by and kicking sand on my face. : )
All in all, I am grateful for a weekend away, and I give Lisbon a genuine gig'em!
I think that a little fighting ation, treason, plotting, romance and conspiracy very much add up to a much better touristic experience. For example, in visiting London, I read The Other Boleyn Girl, about King Henry VIII and his court. It gave recognition to the Tower, where Anne Boleyn was beheaded, and perespective to the palaces in and around the city.
I was really fortunate to get to spend this last weekend in Lisbon, Portugal and so I read a book called The Last Kabbalist of Lisbon. It was about the expulsion of Jews from Lisbon and the giant massacre that took place at the turn of the 16th century. The focus of the story is on a man who is murdered at the time of these riots, but actually removed from the rioting and massacre itself. His nephew, the protagonist, seeks to solve the mystery set in the famous historical locations around Lisbon. It really created a vantage point for me in tihs instance, since there isn't much that i knew about Lisbon and its history prior to my visit and reading of this novel.
I arrived in Lisbon Saturday morning, from where I took the local bus into town. My only grievance with this entire trip was that the bus stops [and tram stops] were not at all clearly marked. Some weren't marked at all! The general idea is that you board this bus, mostly with locals, that does not have a site map or a list of stops that the bus will make. Thus, even if you know which stop you were at last, you have no way of knowing which one comes next! I was fortunate that the stop I needed, Picoas [pronounced pee-co-osh] was labeled. albeit in Times New Roman size 12...
I was able to find my hostel, Unreal Hostel, and get settled in to my bunk in an 8-person dorm. From my reconnaisance, at least 2 roommates were guys [judging by shoes] and I guessed one was either old or military, in that his bed was made to a T. I ate some PB&J I had brought from Paris, secured some maps from the front desk and headed out.
It was a picturesque walk from my hostel: really cool building with murals that stretched for their entire sides, the Murano mansion, and the Marques Pombal memorial statue. I turned down Avenida da Liberdade, which guidebooks called comparable to the Champs Elysees of Paris. Well, I beg to differ - the two streets have nothing in common! Champs Elysees is pretentious and touristy; whereas Avenida da Liberdade had tree lined pathways wide enough for groups to pass one another, fountains and some cafes and shops. Obviously, I much preferred the avenida.
I walked and walked and walked, and ended up on the Baixa Chiado, a cool 'lower' neighborhood. There are 7 giant hills that make up Lisbon, and though I am still a bit sketchy on the details of the topography of Lisbon, I am pretty sure this means that this neighborhood is on the side or at the bottom of a hill, versus atop one. I chose a cool cafe with a lovely terrace to enjoy a Coca Lite [I NEVER liked diet Coke at home, but here for some reason I do... weird]. After sitting and reading and people watching for a while, I strolled further on until coming across the main port, Cais do Sodre. I walked along the port for a bit, and then up to the Centre Comerical, where I found a cool market. I thought about buying a cool platter from an old lady that was hand painted in a marbled way, but I wasn't really into many of her color schemes, unfortunately. I have a vision of serving some fabulous hors d'oeurves on a lovely platter from somewhere exotic, but I guess it won't be from Lisbon.
Then I found the Se Cathedral, and jumped on the tram after a quick tour. I knew this was the tram I neded to be on to get ot the 5th century castle atop the tallest hill in Lisbon. But have I mentioned yet how bus and tram stops are not at all marked? We pulled up to a beautiful lookout point where bougainevillas [flowers] crested a wall which framed a stunning view of the sea below. I should have folowed my instinct to get off here, at least to take photos at this view, but alas, i stayed aboard the good ship Lollipop in assumption that a huge tourist spot such as the castle would be marked, and this one was clearly not. I was wrong.
I finally alighted from the blasted tram at the foot of the hill upon whihch sits the castle. I was not about to retry the tram system so I settled in to a nice uphill hike. About an hour later, completely drenched with sweat, my feet aching [it's ok - I carry ibuprofen at all times now], I made it! On the path though, I stumbled upon a gregarious group of German tourists who decided that I knew what I was doing, and that of all smart ieas, they should follow me to the castle! At first they were covert, following me around corners, then stopping for photos until they saw another turn which I was about to take. It made it more fun though; and eventually I asked them if they too were attempting to find the castle, and together we just walked up and up until eventualy we couldn't walk up anymore, and lo and behold there was the castle!
Afterwards, I was so pooped all I could focus on was the forthcoming shower that I needed to scrub off the grime of the city, eight layers of dried sweat and airplane germs from the morning. Arrving back at my hostel, I met the first of my roommates, Flaurent, and could barely compose myself to speak in French - that's how focused on showering I had become!
Clean and refreshed, I was able to now conduct a decent conversation with my French dorm-mate. He is a airplane mechanic in the French Air Force, and we had a good chat. It was also nice getting to know him, since he then took me out for dinner, and together we explored the Bairro Alto, famous for its night life and bar scene.
Sunday I explored Belem, where the Tower of Belem and the Mosteiro [Monastery] dot the famous landscape here. It was really neat to see, and the architecture of the monastery was stunning. I also really enjoyed the gardens there and the Archeological Museum. Though I do think that one of my very favorite things about being in Europe is the happenstance markets that seem to pop up everywhere! I love finding these, and the one I stumbled upon this morning was a treasure trove for the beautiful hand-painted tiles rescued from demolition projects around the city.
Sunday afternoon was a lazy one spent at the beach, of course after a minor ticket-office fiasco, and generally I enjoyed myself amongst the bajillion other sunbathers and teens playing soccer and volleyball, and the kids hooting on vuvuzelas and running by and kicking sand on my face. : )
All in all, I am grateful for a weekend away, and I give Lisbon a genuine gig'em!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Brocante.
Yesterday, [Sunday, 27 Juin] was the Bi-annual Brocante in Le Vesinet. A brocante is a city-wide garage sale and food/antiques fair; and according to preliminary research, is called one of the best flea markets in Paris to hit up. I guess this is based on the principle that the wealthy live in Le Ves, and to be able to pick their things from the street is getting the golden ticket.
Walking around town with Eliza and Kitty, both au pairs here, I came to realize how much I did not want to accumulate so much stuff like this. I know in most cases things are necessary, at least for a time being. But this was truly overwhelming to see - shoes, clothes, collections, antiques, games, junk, and more. I am glad I was able to see it, but it started off a renewed vow to not buy any more stuff while I am here.
And it also incited a bit of a panic to begin organizing for packing - which of course I am procrastinating about.
Walking around town with Eliza and Kitty, both au pairs here, I came to realize how much I did not want to accumulate so much stuff like this. I know in most cases things are necessary, at least for a time being. But this was truly overwhelming to see - shoes, clothes, collections, antiques, games, junk, and more. I am glad I was able to see it, but it started off a renewed vow to not buy any more stuff while I am here.
And it also incited a bit of a panic to begin organizing for packing - which of course I am procrastinating about.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Fête de la Musique.
Monday, June 21st was summer solstice. Yeehaw! I being, so far north, am now closer to the sun than ever before! This means the sun rises at about 5:30am and sets at 10pm - the sun is bigger in the sky, and I have been soaking it up after a winter bundled in 18 layers.
To celebrate, about 25 years ago, the French Ministry of Culture decided to organize a free, outdoor musical extravaganza. It has now spread and is all over the world!
I went with a friend Kitty, and we toured mostly the 5th and 6th arrondisements. We started at the islands [there are two islands in the Seine that house Notre Dame and the count as the epicenter of downtown], had a plastic cup of shared wine on the river quai and then headed on. These arrondisements are the Latin Quarter and St. Germain de Pres, respectively. The Latin Quarter is where all of the universities are, and thus home to a large artsy-frenchy student population. Here we saw a couple of 20-something rockers playing Iron Man [ACDC], some Latin Flava jiving, and a Beatles/Rolling Stones cover band of 50-somethings. Over in the 6th we saw a great Rockabilly 3-piece band; and man am I sucker for the stand-up bass. I love it! They played Johnny Cash and a couple doo-wops.
It was definitely a great experience, even for someone like me who enjoys music, but is definitely not an officionado. It just brings to mind people like my sister, Pamela, and brother-in-law, Kyle, who really are musical officionados - and how much MORE fun it could have been with such cool folks.
All-night Art Festivals [think back to October with Nuit Blanche] and Music Festivals like this one really do strike me as having become a Parisian. [To a degree: I know my way around - I ditched carrying a map in May, but I am not exactly as surly as necessary to fool some Parisians.] But truly, THIS is culture. This is what makes it Paris, and I am so blessed and so grateful for such awesome memories to keep and to share.
Thanks for reading.
http://www.fetedelamusique.culture.fr/site-2010
To celebrate, about 25 years ago, the French Ministry of Culture decided to organize a free, outdoor musical extravaganza. It has now spread and is all over the world!
I went with a friend Kitty, and we toured mostly the 5th and 6th arrondisements. We started at the islands [there are two islands in the Seine that house Notre Dame and the count as the epicenter of downtown], had a plastic cup of shared wine on the river quai and then headed on. These arrondisements are the Latin Quarter and St. Germain de Pres, respectively. The Latin Quarter is where all of the universities are, and thus home to a large artsy-frenchy student population. Here we saw a couple of 20-something rockers playing Iron Man [ACDC], some Latin Flava jiving, and a Beatles/Rolling Stones cover band of 50-somethings. Over in the 6th we saw a great Rockabilly 3-piece band; and man am I sucker for the stand-up bass. I love it! They played Johnny Cash and a couple doo-wops.
It was definitely a great experience, even for someone like me who enjoys music, but is definitely not an officionado. It just brings to mind people like my sister, Pamela, and brother-in-law, Kyle, who really are musical officionados - and how much MORE fun it could have been with such cool folks.
All-night Art Festivals [think back to October with Nuit Blanche] and Music Festivals like this one really do strike me as having become a Parisian. [To a degree: I know my way around - I ditched carrying a map in May, but I am not exactly as surly as necessary to fool some Parisians.] But truly, THIS is culture. This is what makes it Paris, and I am so blessed and so grateful for such awesome memories to keep and to share.
Thanks for reading.
http://www.fetedelamusique.culture.fr/site-2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Le Cote d'Azur.
This past weekend, I had the fabulous opportunity to travel with a good friend, Amber. After about three weeks of saying we were going to travel this weekend, and procrastinating actually booking a trip, we got together Monday at McDonald’s – free wifi throughout Paris – to plan. However, it was not until Tuesday that I actually booked our trains, and Thursday until we found somewhere to sleep!
I really enjoy last minute travel; a go by the seat of your pants excursion always makes me feel accomplished and excited. Granted, lack of planning in Costa Rica [really my only other intranational or international travel experience] didn’t require much anyway. There, you went to one of 2 bus stops, bags in hand, to buy a ticket. I never once booked a hostel beforehand; often times we just walked the road until one looked nice enough and was within our $10 a night budget! Europe is quite different; but nonetheless exhilarating.
We took an overnight train to Nice, which is on the Cote d’Azur [Mediterranean] of France. As Amber aptly described this experience in her facebook photo album, this was the longest night of our lives! We were fortunate to book first class seats, as they were only 7 euros more than regular seats. So we did get a few more inches to each side and a few more options as to where to try to squish our bodies into a horizontal position. I am not sure what I was expecting. I knew when I chose our seats that they were in fact chairs and not beds, like on some sleeper trains. However, I guess I anticipated having some sort LazyBoy-esque recliner with footrest. And probably provided mini-pillows and blankets in plastic, like on airplanes. No such luck. It was literally negative two degrees in that train compartment! I had packed for the beach, what was I supposed to do? I put on slacks under my dress, a sweater over it and used a jacket to cover up with. I contemplated using another beachy cover-up I had brought to wrap around my feet as mock socks… but couldn’t find the motivation to move from the fetal position that provided the most warmth I could muster.
Meh.
Getting into Nice was great though, and all in all it was worth a sleepless night to arrive at destination at 8:30am and have the full day ahead! Amber fabulously booked us a four-star hotel on lastminute.fr [.com for all of you stateside] that had been reduced to 50% off, making it cheaper than or as cheap as all of the hostels we had looked at. But instead of a hostel, we got a pool, Jacuzzi, sauna, gym, and complimentary bathrobes and slippers! Heck yes! We went to brunch while they finished preparing our room, and then after a quick clean up, headed back to the train station to figure out how to get to Monaco! 5 euros, people. It cost 5 euros to get to the most fabulous place I have encountered in a long while! Yachts five stories high! Ornate architecture and sunlit pathways; a statuesque tropical garden in honor of Grace Kelly, and historic Roman ruins. Lunch on terrace with white couches and umbrellas, gelati and the Monte Carlo casino! Ferraris everywhere, Porsches in abundance… it was opulence to a degree I have never seen before. And though I loved visiting for the day, my friend I am here to witness to you how glad I am that wealth is not one of my ambitions. I hope to pay bills and be responsible and have enough to be a little care-free, it’s true – but I also genuinely hope I never find myself in such a fashion that I have so much money and spend it on things like five-story yachts and Ferraris and Porsches. For it is harder for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven than to pass a camel through the eye of a needle. [That’s scripture, y’all – Mark 10:25, Luke 18:25, AND Matthew 19:24.]
That evening we had dinner in a large pedestrian square, the Place Garibaldi, and had one of the best salads ever. I promise to duplicate it for you when I am on my visiting tour back in the states!
Sunday morning, we woke up ridiculously early and headed out to find the port [which we discovered the previous night, for before finding our dinner restaurant, we toured the beaches and monuments on the coast in Nice] from where we would be taking our cruise to St. Tropez.
I almost don’t even want to describe the next hour for you… physically and emotionally too painful! [Mostly just physically.]
- I realize that I grabbed the map of Monaco and not the map of Nice we needed to find the port in a timely manner. [Don’t judge harshly – have you ever accumulated the ‘travel purse’? It’s hideous and includes about 35 pamphlets and 17 maps; business cards, menus and ticket stubs.]
- We don’t find the port in a timely manner.
- I am gaining blisters on the soles of my feet due to walking quickly and so far [we turned 15 minutes into 45] in impractical shoes. [Again, don’t judge harshly – I was planning on sipping mimosas on a cruise to St. Tropez and then loafing on a beach or at a lounge bar, ok?]
We made it to the port eventually, with about 10 minutes before they untied the boat from the dock. Thank you Lord, again, for providing us with locals to give us directions!
The cruise was a fun time. It was a bit chilly as the morning air had not yet warmed and the clouds were fairly dense still. But it was definitely worth the goose bumps to sit on top of the boat to see humongous mansions built into the cliffs and sides of Nice. We sailed out to St. Marguerite island, and saw the prison in which the Man in the Iron Mask was held… creepy. We viewed Cannes and its incredible sealine architecture, and stopped to let further tourists aboard. Then on to St. Tropez!
We docked, saw the beach, some ruins, laid out on the ruins – remember the early morning I mentioned? Totally led to both Amber and I snoring on a seawall behind a Rolex event. Awesome! We shopped a little, walked up the docks in hopes of a yachting invite [didn’t happen: ( ], had a drink, dipped into the Mediterranean and hopped back on our cruise. Once back and cleaned up we hit up gelati [for dinner…yikes] and then strolled the Promenade des Anglais, on which can be found the Belle Epoque hotels, including the Negresco. The Negresco is a beautiful hotel with gilded edges and a green and pink domed roof; unfortunately for us it was completely under construction.
I have been settling back into Paris nicely, and enjoying no longer being the palest I have been since I was 14. Although the explosion of suitcase on my floor is just waiting for that opportune moment when I will be productive… might as well be now, right?
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