Arrival in Montreal (Day 2)

The second day of our latest and greatest roadtrip adventure saw the party of 10 split into two parts. My parents took the scenic route up Highway 2 through the islands of Lake Champlain, and everyone else took the more direct freeway into Canada. Through unplanned but excellent timing, we all met up at the rest area just north of the border, where we were confronted by this conundrum.

 It does seem rather counterintuitive, does it not? Confusingly played, Canada.

We found our way into Montréal after taking the wrong highway/road/bridge a time or two, checked into the charmingly named L'Auberge Hôtel de Montréal Manoir Ville-Marie, our little inn located inside an old post office. Definitely not a typical hotel, it leans toward a B&B with its mismatched furnishings and quaint vibe. Voilà, le bureau de poste.

 

 In French, "auberge" means "inn." In my head, auberge and aubergine are interchangeable. Here is a picture of our eggplant.

We all got back in the car to go downtown. We passed this delightful place (Mr. Fix-it) with the most endearing sign I think I've ever seen: "Nous restaurons tout - sauf les cœurs brisés!" or "We restore everything - except broken hearts!" 

 

Too bad the only needing fixing IS my heart...

My sister-in-law did the driving. My brother did the navigating. I'm pretty sure neither of them particularly appreciated how entertaining I found this, but... storytime. 

  

 Steering-wheel-white-knuckle-clench-map-of-white-hot-rage

My SIL and I are the only people in the family with what might generously be referred to as a working knowledge of the French language. I have been to France twice, and although my comprehension isn't the greatest, I can generally get around on my own, read a fair bit, and order food. Naturally, French is the primary language of Québec. As my brother was trying to navigate the streets of Montréal, he read the maps to his wife phonetically, and she corrected him under her breath by muttering the proper pronunciation of whichever streetname/attraction/exit he'd just named. This ongoing exchange (which lasted the entire stay in Canada) did not help us get anywhere faster, but it sure was funny from the backseat.

Time is the fire in which we burn

...as a wise man (Delmore Schwartz) once said.

I keep a list of stuff I want to do before I die. It helps keep me motivated and out of the rut I find myself in sometimes. It was a really busy year for me thanks to nursing school, so I'm proud of what I was able to experience this year. My brother and sister and I had planned to go to Ireland in the summer and Australia just sort of happened instead, which was absolutely thrilling and the highlight of my year. These are the list items I accomplished in 2010.

4. Snorkel the Great Barrier Reef (Cairns Australia, 08/14/10)


We were too busy snorkelling and soaking up the sun to bother much with cameras on the reef trip, not to mention it was a little windy and we sacrificed a towel to the Coral Sea, but I got this shot of our first destination: Michaelmas Cay. Lovely little sand island, but it's a bird refuge so the boats anchor just offshore and you can swim in if you like. I did for a tiny moment to adjust my fins, but it smelt like bird poo and the water was feathery, so back out to the reef for me.

29. Volunteer at a USO or at a VA hospital (June/July 2010)
Technically, it wasn't really volunteering, but I think it counts. I learned more than I expected.

32. Go ice-skating (Portland OR, 12/15/10)
It's really sad I've never done this before, but my very good friend took pity on me and we went out on a "Holidate" (get it?) and I skated for two hours without ever falling down. Darn straight I just high-fived myself!

53. Jump off a waterfall (Columbia Gorge OR, 09/09/10)
My Dutch friend came to town on her trip around the world. I took her on a hike (in the rain, don't worry, we brought beer) in the beautiful Columbia Gorge and convinced her and two other poor shivering hikers to jump off a waterfall with me. We chose the 15-foot smaller waterfall because we didn't wish to die. Worth the icy water. She still has all the pictures.

92. Participate in a flash mob event (Portland OR, 12/04/10)
Simple, really, meet a bunch of strangers, do something random and crazy in public together, then disappear. We sang carols and did a 5-minute freeze one Saturday at a mall. Next you'll see me gluing fake eyeballs on trees. Or something.

113. Learn to sandboard (Moreton Island Australia/Florence OR)



Obviously a work in progress, but I discovered the awesomeness that is sandboarding in Australia and was ecstatic when I learned I can do it on pretty much any dune anywhere. Took my Dutchie sandboarding in Florence in September, then dragged my family in November (wouldn't recommend it after rain...the sand is sticky and you go slow and fall harder). My parents tried it. For the win!

One goal I know I'm crossing off in 2011 is #22: Graduate nursing school. Can't wait! :)

West coast represent, now put your hands up

It’s hard to go from finals to Australia back to studying in less than four weeks. Not the Australia part… the return to the head games of nursing school. Sometimes, when I find a place that is special to me, I get homesick for it after I leave. I say this at risk of sounding like I would rather be anywhere else in the world at any given time, but the wanderlust is a part of my soul and I fell in love with Australia. It’s such a lovely, fascinating, wild country.

I miss the gum trees and the weird, dangerous animals. I miss TimTams and Lamingtons and ginger beer and Vegemite. I miss the obvious system of naming things (examples of dangerous snakes to watch out for: the green tree snake (green and lives in trees) and the red-bellied black snake (black with a red belly, go figure)). I miss being called “lovely” and “sweets” and “doll.” I miss the rainforests and the clear blue water and the accents.

Gum tree in Queensland's Tamborine Rainforest

Once upon a time, I was not a fan of the music of Katy Perry. Bear with me, for a moment. The average Australian has no idea where Oregon is. When they ask where you’re from, they prefer you to be more specific than “I’m American” in the unlikely event that you’re from either California or New York. We found that the handiest description is “the state just north of California*,” since everyone know where that is, and they usually respond with “ohhhhhh… west coast!” Whereupon we teach them the gangsta sign for west coast and the Katy Perry song “California Gurls” comes on the radio. On our trip to Moreton Island, the scenario I have just described took place, and when our tour guide’s iPod shuffled to California Gurls, he took special pride in pointing it out to us. I like to think that from now on, when that song plays, the Aussies I met will think of me. Katy Perry says we're unforgettable. Not that I'm from Cali, but I did live there for awhile...

Bridge in Brisbane

*Once in awhile, we’d just ask if they’d ever played the computer game Oregon Trail, and usually someone had heard of it. Or we’d talk about cowboys and Indians and the gold rush.

Sand toboganning in The Desert

One of my favorite days in Australia was a trip to Moreton Island off the coast near Brisbane. It's the second largest sand island in the world and home to the largest free-standing sand dunes. Among the many things we did that day was sandboarding (like snowboarding, but on sand dunes) and sand toboganning in "The Desert."

This video is my spectacular wipeout*, followed by my little brother's. Little sister was nice enough to video and laugh hysterically.




*Doesn't hurt... SO MUCH FUN. Seriously. Go do this immediately.

Headfirst gets you down the fastest, but you can ride sitting like a normal toboggan, or even double.

Stand up boards take the most skill. Our guide, Josh, told us "Put 40 percent of your weight on the front foot and 60 on the back" and after we all wiped out over and over, his critique was "I told you 60-40. You're like, 100 on the back foot. Of course you're falling down." It was hysterical.

Americana: Life in Color

I inherited my wanderlust from my parents. My dad loves to hike and explore nature for hours on end, and while my mom enjoys that, she usually leans more toward educational/historical attractions. Naturally, my family loves to roadtrip since everybody gets a little piece of their favorite activity.

Our last family roadtrip was in the summer of 2007. My mom and youngest siblings drove from Oregon to Wisconsin to collect my middle sister from school, then headed south. My dad, brother and I flew into Ohio to meet them. We drove all the way to like the third Florida Key and back to Oregon (9000 miles, if you were counting). To my family, this is not crazy. This is Adventure. Of course, if you were to ask them what it's like to travel with five of their six children, plus a friend of my sister's, they would tell you it's annoying. I'm pretty sure that's a lie, though, cuz I'm super-fun. Obviously. Especially in constricted living quarters.

Here's a few of my favorite pictures from the trip.

Hannah and Sam playing on the edge of the Cherohala Skyway in North Carolina


Imposing lady figure on some important building in Savannah, Georgia

For those of you familiar with Pirates of the Caribbean, this is my sister recreating the scene in which Tia Dalma casts the crustacean claws to divine the location of the Flying Dutchman. "A touch... of DESTINY!"

We were in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, eating bouillabaisse and other cajun delights.


A fishing pier in Ft. de Soto, Florida. My first sugar sand beach. :)

The sibs in front of a piece of the Berlin wall in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Home to the huge concrete Jesus.

I love going places. I hate being trapped in the city by nursing school. Most of the time. Nursing school is exciting. :)

Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.

Something that's been close to my heart for awhile now is about to go big. I began following The Buried Life after I read an interview with them in brass magazine in February 2008. The Buried Life is four young men who decided that life is more than a rat race, made a list of thing they wanted to do before they died, and set about accomplishing those things. Now they travel the country asking strangers "What do YOU want to do before you die?" and they've partnered with MTV to share their exploits with the world. The Buried Life premieres Monday, January 18th at 10.

Part of the awesomeness of it all is that for everything they cross off on their list, they help a stranger with theirs. For what it's worth, here's mine.

1. Sing 'Waltzing Matilda' at an Australian rugby match
2. Go to a World Cup soccer game
3. Spend a summer volunteering in a third world country
4. Dive and snorkel the Great Barrier Reef
5. Drive a bobsled
6. Learn to surf big waves
7. Ride in a bulldozer scoop
8. Write down my grandfather's story and the story of the SS Star of Oregon
9. Live in another country
10. Become fluent in at least one other language
11. Skydive
12. Fly a helicopter
13. Go rock-climbing
14. Go on an Athletes in Action soccer mission trip
15. Learn to salsa dance
16. Roadtrip down the Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible with a friend
17. Marry the man of my dreams
18. Wear a really big hat to the Kentucky Derby
19. See the running of the bulls in Pamplona and drink sangria at a bullfight
20. Learn basic car maintenance
21. Be a Soldier's Angel
22. Graduate nursing school
23. Owe nothing to anyone by 2020
24. Learn to listen like I'm the only other person alive
25. Hike the Patagonia
26. Mine for rubies
27. Climb Denali
28. Design, make and sell a line of clothing
29. Volunteer at a USO or a VA hospital
30. Date a professional soccer player
31. Jump a horse on a cross-country course
32. Go ice-skating
33. Get a tattoo
34. Grant a child's wish
35. Go back to Queenstown and do the Nevis Highwire Bungy
36. Interview a soccer player for publication
37. Visit the Devil's Swimming Pool at the top of Victoria Falls
38. Walk all the way around an island
39. Go waterskiing/wakeboarding
40. Work on a Hollywood film
41. Attend a major sporting event (TOUR DE FRANCE)
42. Touch the World Cup
43. Celebrate Carnaval in Brasil
44. Cruise the Mediterranean on a sailing ship
45. Learn to snowboard have a go at heli-boarding
46. Party with rockstars
47. Kiss Ben Barnes
48. Find a way to help provide underprivileged kids with soccer opportunities
49. Own a pair of Christian Louboutins
50. Write a book for my future children
51. Publish a photograph
52. Learn ballroom dancing
53. Jump off a waterfall
54. Give the commencement address at a graduation
55. Take a boat trip down the Nile
56. Drive the 007 car really fast ...the Aston Martin Vanquish
57. Visit Alaska, Kentucky, Maryland and Delaware... the four states I have yet to see
58. Re-enact LIFE magazine's picture of the sailor kissing the nurse on V-J Day 1945
59. Visit every continent
60. Go backstage at a big concert
61. Ride in a hot-air balloon
62. Model on a runway
63. Learn to play an instrument
64. Drive a tank
65. See the new Seven Wonders of the World
66. Help build a house... even if it's just painting
67. Taste Dom Pérignon
68. See a Shakespeare play at the Globe
69. Ride a (really big) roller coaster
70. Do a back handspring
71. Hang glide
72. Stay in a hotel on stilts over water (Bora Bora or the Maldives)
73. Learn to read and write Arabic
74. Attend a fashion show in Milan, Paris or New York
75. Dance with a celebrity
76. Take up archery
77. Sponsor a needy child
78. Help someone out through Make-a-Wish
79. Go four-wheeling on sand dunes with my brothers
80. Help put my two youngest siblings through college
81. Commit random acts of kindness every day for a month
82. Feel the heat on my face from a space shuttle launch
83. Stand in each of the world's major seas
84. Spend a summer in Spain and Portugal with Melanie
85. Adopt a "grandparent" in a nursing home
86. Ride a motorcycle
87. Start and maintain a travel blog
88. Yodel in the Alps
89. Fly a fighter jet in Cape Town, South Africa
90. Talk to a politician in Pig Latin
91. Spend a night in the Ice Hotel in Sweden
92. Participate in a flash mob event
93. Read all the way through Shakespeare's canon
94. Get my carry permit
95. Backpack Europe on my own
96. Get over my fear of public singing
97. Learn capoeira
98. Contribute to research on breathing disorders/kick asthma's butt
99. Play paintball
100. Meet a Medal of Honor winner
101. Call Jake Owen
102. Convince a local Italian boy to take me on a moped tour of his town
103. Participate in a hash
104. Go the Oberammergau Passion Play
105. Play swamp soccer in Finland

What do you want to do before you die? Wanna help me with my list? I'll return the favor. Anyway, check 'em out on Facebook. They're cool.

God bless Spain and their almost-English keyboards!

Hola! I'm in Barcelona!

I'm lisping my S's and ignoring all marriage proposals.

I also swam in the Mediterranean today. You know you're jealous.

I don't think I'm coming home. If I don't blog again and say I'm in Nice or Paris, you know where to find me. In a tapas bar. Or bullfighting.

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.

.

Destination: Boston

Last month, I went to Boston for spring break. Therefore, we're taking a tiny break from visiting Paris to see Boston. This is a post in two parts: Then and Now.

Background: I went to college on Boston's south shore for a little over a year, before transferring back to my native Northwest. I played DIII soccer for the school (during which I experienced most of greater New England by chartered coach), became acquainted with Nor'easters, and made a trip to Hawaii and New Zealand with the biology department.

I love this city.


---THEN-------------------------------------------------------------------------

When my mom went to Boston with me for the very first time, in January 2006, we spent our free hours drinking in the city. We walked the Freedom Trail (that handy brick path that wends its way to all the important historical sites, like the Old North Church and really old burial grounds), chowed down on seafood, and shopped at Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market.

After getting familiar with the MBTA (this did not happen to me, obviously haha), it was all about the museums, the sports venues, and the Italian food in the North End.

Museums-

• I love the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Back Bay. It's a huge house with an enclosed courtyard turned solarium, full of original art and correspondence from celebrities of centuries past.
• The MFA rocks my world. Free admission for students always does! Besides the immense collection of perennial art, the changing exhibitions are awesome. I went to the Fashion Show: Paris Collections 2006. I love clothes. I love style. I love seeing Valentino and Christian Dior and Viktor & Rolf creations up close.
• Would have loved to spend more time in the Museum of Science. As it was, L (same one I visited in Paris) and I went to see Body Worlds 2. Amazing. Anatomy student heaven.
  
• Visited the Harvard Museum of Natural History for a biology class assignment. While strolling through said museum, I noticed a photograph that looked oddly familiar. As it turned out, the subject was a gravel shed from my hometown, 3000+ miles away in Oregon. Small world. There were also a plethora of blown glass botanics and lots of taxidermy. Sweet.
  

Home at Harvard!

Big bones in the HMNH

Sports-

• Bypassing Fenway and TD Banknorth Garden (everyone knows those names) in favor of...
  
• New England Revolution soccer! L and I met and bonded over this team. She had extra tickets, and I a quiet desperation to see them play. She drove all the way to my school to pick me up, and we rocked out to the Dropkick Murphys (locals gotta represent!) all the way out to Gillette Stadium and back. Our first game was in cold, pouring rain, but we sang our lungs out with the Midnight Riders and I bought my first MLS gear. Later on, we made banners urging the club to "Free Clint" and now I support his London club, Fulham FC. While I am a self-described equal opportunity footy enthusiast, it's so great having a local team.
  

Drenched, hypothermic, and exhilarated

Other highlights of my time in Boston include-

• The Christmas tree lighting in Boston Commons. December 2006 was unseasonably warm... we went downtown in t-shirts and ate ice cream after the fireworks and the crowds dissipated. We met the nutcracker, Clara, and the Mouse King from the Boston Ballet.

I missed the chance to hit him with my shoe.

• A soccer friend, Brittany, and I made an excursion to the New England Aquarium. The NEAQ is all right, but the one in Oregon is much better. While Boston's is a hot date spot, I can think of much more creative places to go. ;) The NEAQ does have a huge central tank with turtles and sharks and occasional SCUBA divers in it, which is awesome, as well as oversize penguins stalking the entrance.

Brittany and I getting some Pengzilla lovin'

That was three years ago. While I still love all these things about Boston, I've changed so much in my time back home. For example, I'm a big girl now! Tune in next time to see me write about my return trip and all the cool stuff I did this time. :)


Apologies for the lack of pictures. Many of my old Beantown photos were swallowed during the Great Computer Crash of 2007.

Part 2

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.

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.

Between Bretagne, Normandie and the sea

Monday, 11 August 2008

Abbaye du Mont-Saint-Michel

European Adventure Travel Day 9
Le Mont-Saint-Michel, France

The train from Rennes to Pontorson was much smaller than the high-speed trains, and as it turns out the station is near the end of the line and has only one track. At the station, I jumped on a big bus with a sign in the window for the abbey (2 euro). The bus careened around the bends in the narrow road out toward the coast, and we passed a windmill that one of the Americans sitting in front of me defined as a "pointy building with a big fan." I think she was joking...

First look at the abbey

The sheer number of people out at the abbey was overwhelming. Never go anywhere in August! Tourists had pretty much taken over a field with their cars, buses and campers. People were walking in the narrow road and didn't even seem to notice when the bus lurched by, mere inches from their bodies. Sometimes, a fellow tourist would pull another one out of the way.

Coastal parking lot

The history of Mont-Saint-Michel is interesting. It began as a shrine to the archangel Michael in 708, and became a site of pilgrimage. As it evolved over the centuries into more than a sanctuary, the abbey was built wrapped around the hill and crowned with the abbey church. The Benedictines settled in the abbey in the 10th century, and after that a village began to grow below its walls, extending all the way to the foot of the rock by the 14th century. It was a stronghold during the Hundred Years War, then a prison from the revolution until 1863. People of the middle ages regarded the abbey as a representation of the heavenly Jerusalem on earth, Paradise.

To get to the abbey, you have to walk up the steep, winding streets, just wide enough for four people to stand abreast. Of course, in August, there are about four lines of people trying to go down and two lines pushing their way up, so progress is very slow. The streets are lined with shops full of postcards and ice cream, and the beer is as cheap as water.

Enochlophobes, beware!

After climbing up to the actual abbey, there was a line to stand in for tickets (8.5 euro). The five Americans from the bus and I noticed each other scrutinizing the time tables for the train, so we started talking. It turned out that we were all headed back to Paris, and we needed to catch the last train out of Pontorson about seven o'clock. By this time, it was late afternoon and we knew we didn't have time to dawdle along with the audio tour, so I sort of joined up with them to see the place.

The abbey is magnificent. It's cool and dim inside, especially in the huge rooms with vaulted Gothic ceilings and massive pillars. There are rose windows set in round the top, so light streams down from above, casting strange shadows on the floor. There was a an international art exhibit going on as well, so we would pass the altars and crucifixes in alcoves and come out by the photographs of China and the Serengeti. I wish I could have seen the abbey without anyone in it. The arrows pointed us our through a little door, and we emerged in a flagstone courtyard, with a wall overlooking the Bretagne coast. People were on the beach below scrawling all sorts of things in the sand and waving at everyone who would look down.

Vive le libre!

Inside one of the galleries are a set of models, depicting the different building stages in the history of the abbey, literally from the ground up. The statue atop the belfry was designed at the end of the 19th century, and was cleaned and restored to its postition -via helicopter- in 1987.

That's St. Michael up at the top

Aware that we were running out of time, we pushed our way down the streets to the bottom of the hill. Half the group made it to the bus stop on time, but let the bus go because the others were late. The next bus came an hour late, so Brent-from-Texas and I left the others and took a walk around the base of the hill. This little chapel is built on an outcropping of rock and is reached by stone steps. The wind kicked up all of a sudden, blowing sand in our eyes. This picture makes me laugh... it looks like the tourists have chucked one of their own over the side and are telling him "Spain will be on your left in a bit!"

Man overboard at the chapel!

Brent-from-Texas was quite nice, and smart. We got back around to the others, but decided worrying about the bus coming on time wouldn't help anything, so we sat and talked. As it turned out, the bus came on time, but that parking lot full of cars was emptying onto the road when we pulled out, so it took an agonizing 36 minutes to get back to the station, during which the two girls kept an eye out for hotel vacancy signs. We pulled up to the station with one minute to spare. We could see the train coming toward us, so we literally bailed off the bus and dashed through the tiny station. The conductor was standing on the other side of the tracks, hollering for us to jump because the train was coming (because it's a one track station, Paris-bound train board on the far side so you have to walk across the tracks).

I wish you could have seen how utterly ridiculous we were... hot, sweaty, desperate tourists madly sprinting through a building and flinging ourselves across the tracks. The station master must have had a good laugh after our train pulled away!

Said goodbye to the other Americans when we changed trains in Rennes, went to the ticket counter and asked, in French, for un billet pour Paris.

Got back to L's flat long after dark, found her a little bit worried by my tardiness, and quickly settled in to exchange my tales of bomb threats and mad dashes for hers of the Tunisian sun. She made me a Tunisian royale (Tunisian fig liqueur and champagne) and my Paris adventure started in earnest.