days in the sun

It's kinda hard to update without pictures. My old computer was eaten by viruses and will hopefully be resurrected over the Christmas holidays. I hope. So, to make it entertaining here until that happens, I stole a bunch of pictures of my roomie's Flickr.


Britta took this photo at the Loire Valley wedding we went to. It was 2am, maybe 3, when the waiters gave up on refilling our wine glasses individually and just left the bottles to our mercy. Of course, it was also about that time that the beer and champagne started flowing.

In Gennes

Fact: the French can moonwalk much better than the average American

After our side trip to Monaco, our new friend Thor took us to the popular yachtee bar The Hop Store in Antibes. The beers were large, the company was great, and I will never forget that awesome, spontaneous, beautiful night in a tiny town on the Riviera.

In AntibesYeah, we know we're cuter with beer

Can't have a trip to France without crêpes. We stuffed our faces with deliciousness on Montmartre.

In Paris
The sheer brilliance of the crêpe is underestimated

Anyway, my comment box is lonely. Please help it stop feeling self-conscious? You know you want to .

City of Light

Sometimes I get lonely for places I've been. Tonight, I miss Paris.


I miss eating crêpes on Montmartre and watching dusk fall over the city.

(click)

I miss the casual warm evenings spent people-watching on the Seine.


I miss how the city and the water light up at night.


I miss gargoyles.

I love gargoyles.

Two months ago, I was in Paris. Two months seems like forever.

Things that make you question your own sanity

You know how some people are very particular about the over/under placement of the free end of the toilet roll? Take Mel, for example. I'm not very territorial about the powder room, myself, but my vote is with the over group. Not that it matters.

Now in France, they dispense with all debate and provide a very specific picture tutorial on the toilet roll holder. If the picture isn't clear enough, all you silly Americans who spool it backwards at home, it says "yes" under the proper way and "no" under the wrong way.

TP tutorial in the can in Cannes

To be fair, I found this in Cannes, where they obviously experience high volumes of Hollywood traffic every year and some of those people clearly aren't to be trusted with simple verbal instructions.

In Paris, we saw this crustacean street tile art. What, pray tell, is the meaning of "I crab Paris"?

Oh yeah? Well, I <3 crab cakes!

The world may never know.

Going to Paris. Be back soon.

All right y'all, Britta and I are hopping on a plane bright and freakin' early in the morning and heading to Paris.

From Paris we spend a week in the Loire Valley, then maybe Bordeaux, then three days in Barcelona, then the Riviera, and finally back to Paris. And then home... unless of course we find a more alluring prospect (Parisian male models or footy stars- hello Yoann Gourcuff!).

Maybe we'll blog from abroad. Maybe not. Oh the wonders of international service on my roomie's Crackberry, I cannot wait to experience you!

Au revoir!

Paris in August! Can you imagine?

One of my favorite sculptures in the Louvre: 'Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss' by Antonio Canova

We arrived at the catacombs just half an hour after it opened, but the line was already wrapped around the block. We entertained ourselves by prepping for our upcoming Amsterdam excursion and watching three men lay cobblestones in the street. Our fellow queuers (No, it's not a word, I made it up. It means "one who queues") entertained themselves by pulling their lunches out of their bags and backpacks, ripping the food into pieces, and sprinkling it on the concrete for the pigeons. The pigeons billed and cooed and showed their appreciation by pooping on people's shoes.

Disgusting creatures.

Queue at the catacombs

It took a really long time, but finally we got to enter the Halls of the Dead.

A long time ago (late 18th century), the cemeteries of Paris were overflowing and contaminating the fair city through mass graves and improper burial. The medieval cemeteries were condemned and the millions of inhabitants were moved to underground caves and tunnels by night.

Entrée de l'ossuaire: "Stop! This is the Empire of the Dead."

As an anatomy student, I found it interesting that the skulls, femurs, tibias, and humeri (head, thigh, shin, arm) were stacked in patterns. Behind this virtual walls of bones were piled the collections of less-decorative skeletal parts, like phalanges and scapulae (fingers, toes, shoulder blades).

At the exit, a bored-looking security guard searched your bag to make sure you hadn't stashed anything you were not supposed to stash.

Graverobbers denied

Actually, it made me really mad that people tried to take bones away with them as souvenirs at all. Have some respect for the dead.

After we found ourselves back in the sunshine at the unassuming back door to the catacombs, Lark headed back home to run errands and sent me to the Louvre on my own.

Bet the Egyptians wish they'd thought of this!

Meet the cover of my Western Literature book: the Winged Victory. She's pretty cool.

Fought the waves of crazy tourists, saw La Giaconda, then spent the next two hours getting lost in the twists and turns and false stairwells of the Louvre (which was clearly never intended for museum purposes), but I did find the Code of Hammurabi, the bulls from Sargon's palace, and nifty things that weren't marked on the map of highlights. I like Dutch art the best. And I found it. But then I got lost in a courtyard full of statues and art students. I climbed up the wall and went to visit this pretty lady. She's my favorite.

Venus de Milo

Look at this ridiculous opulence. No wonder the peasants decided to revolt.

While I appreciated the immense amount of beauty and history in the Louvre, the big mistake was going alone. I got more frustrated by large groups of shoving, grabby tourists than I would have if I'd had company. Thus, I was never more excited to find this sign and its three languages of promise and hope.

So I went to the children's gift shop and played with toys by myself before leaving. Don't judge.


Lark and I went to dinner with her Parisian friend, Victor, who tried to make me order my own dinner at the restaurant. Suddenly overcome by shyness, I made him do it. He got us Kir apéritifs. I had lapin (rabbit), he had gizzards (which he made me try...not bad at all), and Lark had French onion soup. Victor ordered us a bottle of Muscadet to share ...at a ridiculous markup. I saw it in a grocery store for three Euros, but I guess that's Paris cuisine for you.

And then we broke the crust on the crème brûlée with our spoons.

On our walk home, we stopped at a little bar and Lark intorduced me to the most divine cocktail in the history of the world: the caipirinha. It's Brazilian, made with limes and cachaça (the Brazilian national liquor, made from sugar cane juice).

This concluded my last day in Paris. We headed to Belgium in the morning.

I need your help!

This is for all friends/followers/lurkers/blog-stumble-upon-ers who see this:


Please help. Aidez-moi.


In six short weeks, the roommate and I will

(fly)

to

(France)

Part of the trip is planned. Part of the trip is not. This is where you come in. We have 16 delicious days to explore as much of the country as we can.

We need ideas!

If you have ever been to, or dream of going to France, let me know! We'll be starting and ending in Paris, and while there is a Loire Valley wedding to attend, we also intend to pay a visit to Provence and Côte d'Azur. France is a big country and while two Eurail passes may get us around it, we definitely want to experience the best it has to offer.

Outdo Elle. You know you want to.


P.S. We will be in PARIS for FASHION WEEK 2009 (haute couture fall/winter 2009/10)

Oui. We shall be vogue. Commentaire, s'il vous plaît.

.

J'ai deux billets pour Paris!

Y'all, it's happening.

On June 22, my fabulous roommate and I fly into Paris and together take France by storm for 16 days.

First to the Loire Valley (Angers) for a wedding, on south, and then back to Paris.

I never thought I'd be back within 10 months. I cannot wait to see the things I felt like I missed out on (like being too sick to go in Notre Dame).

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The Seventh Arr.

The afternoon of my first full day in Paris with L, we commenced sightseeing in our very best manner. We went to the seventh arrondissement and then crossed the Seine. Here's the highlights, aka More Things I Love About Paris.

See the shiny gold dome in the distance? Les Invalides- the final resting place of Napoleon.

I wanted to go to the Musée de l’Armée

I have to admit that I didn't find it necessary to wait in line to go up the Eiffel Tower, which is actually celebrating its 120th birthday this year. The view from Montmartre is fantastic and therefore satisfied my Parisian panoramic needs, so I pocketed my 10€. We skirted the mass of tourists huddled beneath it and entered the seventh arrondissement to take this picture. Pretty.

La Tour Eiffel

The natural continuation of this path led us across the Seine, where we stopped at the unofficial memorial to Princess Diana above the tunnel on the bank of the river. The torch is a copy of the Statue of Liberty's, and is officially a tribute to French-American friendships. People scrawl loving messages to Princess Di on the concrete with whatever they have on hand, even nail polish.

Memorial to Princess Diana

On, on.

L'Arc de Triomphe (or, if you ask Dave Barry, The Lark of Triumph)

L'Arc de Triomphe- oh, one of my favorite things in Paris. Belonging to a military family has given me an intense appreciation for things militaristic in nature, and this especially. Patriotism was intensified by an enormous French flag displayed alongside an EU flag inside the arch, due to the EU headquarters moving to Paris.

It's in the middle of the scary traffic circle, known as Place Charles de Gaulle, which feeds no less than 12 streets, all named for famous military leaders. Traffic accidents inside the circle are equal fault of drivers involved- damages are split 50-50. A tourist enters the arch by way of damp underground tunnel, and is protected from said traffic by means of a flimsy chain strung round the monument. One tourist actually stepped over this barrier and out into traffic to take a photo of her group. She was quickly herded back by French policemen, but this sort of behavior is surely what prompted Dave Barry to write:

"Another well-known Paris landmark is the Arc de Triomphe, a moving monument to the many brave men and women who have died trying to visit it, which we do not recommend because it’s located in the middle of La Place de la Traffic coming from All Directions at 114 Miles Per Hour."

L and I spent some time reading the plaques and dedications inside the arch, which can be a difficult task since most are set into the ground and most tourists ignored us and walked over them while we stood there apparently concentrating on their migratory patterns. Not that I'm bitter.

Tomb of the unknown soldier

The Arch and the grave reminded me of one of the greatest scenes in the movie Casablanca:



Liberté, Liberté chérie, Combats avec tes défenseurs!

Avenue des Champs-Élysées, replete with gawking tourists such as myself

We needed food, so we left L'Arc de Triomphe via the Champs-Élysées and the Métro and went back to the fifth arrondissement.

Fontaine Saint-Michel in Quartier Latin

In the cities of Europe, there are so many restaurants that most establishments have developed a gimmick to attract customers. Some send out attractive men to verbally woo the ladies inside (creepier than it sounds), some have entertainers like musicians and jugglers outside to grab attention. This man was smashing crockery on the sidewalk.

We stopped to eat at a little crêperie (fancy French word for tasty pancake) near St-Michel that L knows and loves. It's called La Crêperie des Pêcheurs* (crêperie of the fishermen) and it looks like a ship's interior, complete with figureheads and fishing nets. The place is tiny. L and I were next to the door at a little table for two that was so small it was hinged to let me in to sit against the wall. It faced the open kitchen, and our pre-dinner entertainment were the masses of hungry tourists pausing mere steps away to consider the menu and have a peep at the atmosphere (naturally, us.) They serve both savory crêpes (salées) and sucrées (dessert), with le cidre, the traditional companion of a crêpe. I had something delicious with mushrooms and tomato, L and I shared a bottle of cidre, and then we ordered dessert. We chose the Grand Marnier crêpe flambé, which is served wreathed in blue fire and accompanied by a dish heaped with whipped cream and is very, very tasty.

*French punctuation makes this funny: a pêcheur (note the accent circumflex) is a fisherman. This word is but a mark away from being a pécheur (accent aigu), which is a sinner.


After dinner we stopped into a little English bookshop on the left bank of Seine called Shakespeare & Company. It's one of the 10 or so English-speaking bookshops in the city and is really a lovely little place. J'aime les librairies.

Maybe the next post will be less talk, more see. It's hard to write about places when the pictures make you miss it intensely, but hope remains! Possibly more on that later.

France in pictures

On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur.

L'essential est invisible pour les yeux.
-Le Petit Prince

Un pour tous, tous pour un

*With apologies to Dumas and all the Google users who have found this page by searching for the Musketeers' battle cry. Salut, by the way.

Tuesday, 12 August 2008.

Welcome to Paris. Quoi de neuf?

Basilique du Sacré Cœur

L and I made a leisurely start to the morning...there must have been coffee...before taking the Métro to a station under Montmartre, the highest hill in central Paris. We climbed a lot of stairs up to Sacré Cœur. It was almost unbearably hot that morning and I was wearing shorts, so I was unable to get more than a few steps inside the basilica because there was a service going on. I would have worn pants had I known we were going straight to church. Ladies, take note, don't wear shorts in Europe. It was actually quite funny: we joined the crowd pushing to enter the church, and there was a funny little man standing off to one side of the entrance. He wouldn't look straight at anyone, but when I came near, he started growling "Nooooooooo shorrrrrrrrrtz."

We walked across to look out over Paris. We could see all the landmarks: the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre. L says the view from Montmartre is better than from the Eiffel Tower. We went into the Espace Dalí, a little Salvadore Dalí museum. I didn't have much appreciation for Dalí (or any surrealism) previously, but now I understand. My favorite was the 12 Tribes of Israel, thirteen etchings he did for the 25th anniversary of the State of Israel in 1972.

View from Montmartre

After we left the museum, L pointed out the neighborhood from the film Amélie, including the little market she visits. It was chock-full of Amélie postcards.

Au Marche de la Butte - the market from the film Amélie

We headed down from the hill to continue our walking tour of Paris. That is to say, we went down to old Moulin Rouge and strutted our stuff on the street.

Le Bal du Moulin Rouge

Just kidding. We only walked past and took pictures of the revue that gave us the only French phrase known to most of my generation (and if you don't know what I'm talking about, you clearly haven't seen the film), mocking all the high school students that were so intrigued by it and the sex shops in the vicinity.

From there we went to the Jardin du Luxembourg. It's like most of the gardens I saw in France and Belgium: trees grow in straight lines in bare, sandy soil, statues poke out from the trees like Robin Hood's band of merry men, and there are always lots of sunbathers draped around the fountains. Sometimes there's even grass in the parks.

La Statue

Piscine reverse peristalsis in Jardin du Luxembourg

Not far from the Jardin du Luxembourg is the Panthéon, the resting place of grands hommes Voltaire, Rousseau, Hugo, Dumas, Braille; and grand femme Marie Curie. C'est magnifique.

The Panthéon

Our next stop was L's Roman ampitheatre, the Arènes de Lutèce in the Latin Quarter. It's a 15,000 seat arena was built in the first century, destroyed in the third, and filled in during the thirteenth. It was rediscovered in the 1860s and Victor Hugo campaigned to preserve it. It was fully excavated at the end of the first World War, and now it's a public park and garden. You can walk around it and check out the stage, the niches, and the barred animal cages. Naturally, kids love to play in the arena, and L brought a friend once who sat in the stands and shouted commentary: "Boo! Send out the lions!" and "12 denarii on the dwarf!"

In the Arènes de Lutèce

We took our books and laid out on the grass in the arena for an hour or two. There were two guys near us who apparently created a public disturbance, because they were approached and patted down by five policemen for about 15 minutes. We couldn't imagine how a good time and a bottle of booze could warrant that, but the policemen left them alone after a bit and they carried on as though nothing had happened.

One thing I love about Paris: it's divided into twenty neighborhoods, or arrondissements. L lives in the fifth arrondissement. The arrondissement is usually noted on the side of the buildings, so you know where you are, however, it is abbreviated. Thus, L lives in the Fifth Arr. of Paris. How very piratey.

And it's ok if I'm the only person who laughs about that.

Pardonnez-moi, parle vous coquine?

Sunday, 10 August 2008

European Adventure Travel Day 8
Paris, France

I was pretty sick my first day in Paris. However, recognizing that I was, in fact, in Paris, and not wishing to bring upon myself the shame that accompanies staying indoors all day on one's first day in Paris, I spent the morning napping and then struggled out into the August heat, down the street in the direction of the pointy spire visible above the apartment buildings.

Said spire belonged to this building:

Notre Dame de Paris

Didn't want to face the multitudes alone while ill, so I wandered around the booths of the street vendors hawking everything from miniature statues of Parisian landmarks to postcard knock-offs of famous artwork. I sat in the sun on the stone walls banking the Seine for a bit and watched the riverboats chock-full of tourists pass under the bridges connecting Île de la Cité to the rest of Paris, listening to people chatter in a host of languages.

I like the back of Notre Dame the best. I love the flying buttresses, and even though I understand that the front is both majestic and imposing in the tight visual frame that it was designed to fill, the back is much more graceful and pretty. I also adore gargoyles.

Since it's confession time, here's another: I didn't know I was going to love Paris. I lived in Boston for a year and liked it, but I'm not fond of New York. Since New York is the quintessential American destination city, I assumed that Paris was the French equivalent: dare I say it? overrated. Far from it. However, I know from experience that how much you enjoy a place is greatly influenced by who you experience it with.

I really didn't do much that first day, except soak up the atmosphere of the city. After a week of hardcore sightseeing, it was an absolutely relaxing, perfect day. Except for being sick.