Met a professor from Opp, Alabama at the Atlanta airport. He's taking 10 students for a month in Europe for study abroad. They'll spend eight days in Paris. They're studying cathedrals. Martin grew up in Andalusia, longtime rival of Opp-ites.
Tuesday, May 9
Arrived in Paris. Nobody could talk English at customs. We were embarrassed and didn't declare anything.
Rode metro to our hotel, lots of graffiti everywhere, rather innovative apartment/condos, also rose bushes everywhere. Stood on a corner with our suitcase, a lady asked if she could help us and we found the street, rue de Malher.
We're on the fourth floor, window looks directly out onto major thoroughfare where metro is, no screen, tiny elevator, skinny and low, claustrophobic.
Took a nap, then went galavanting, near the rue de Deux Ponts, so there is an "island" in the middle of the Seine, and we discovered Notre Dame! The gargoyles look as if they are going to fall as you walk past.
Martin is shaking the crumbs of our recently purchased baguette onto the cafe sidewalk below.
Got a "sorbet cassis"--it tasted rather sour but grew on me. I am reading "Dune" by Frank Herbert this trip.
The fire trucks have a loud siren but not piercing, painted a dull red, with two big hose rollers on the back. Have heard several on the street below.
Wednesday, May 10
We changed rooms to number 42 -- overlooks rue Mahler instead of rue de Rivoli)
Window watching, about 6 p.m.
Six police are talking with a group of teens on the rue de Rivoli. Teens all in black, one girl has brown hair with stiff upswept blonde bangs. Also a little police car came cruising up and stationed alongside the curb.
Observed the cars parked along a side street, bumper to bumper. A little white car came for a space, and pulled in until it hit the back car, then pulled up until it hit the forward car. The driver got out and looked where he had hit, then locked his car and walked away.
No more police men stand on the rue de Rivoli.
Penthouse apartments directly across from our room are being worked on, with high scaffolding, plants line the edge, with four sets of French doors. One guy came out and knocked on the corner one, another guy appeared.
Martin said, "Do we have twins or what?"
They looked quite alike, and discussed some holes in the wall near one of the windows, and shook the rope attached to the balcony railing (at this point they discovered me watching and started to "ham").
Went running today, got lost. I noticed a guy in a silver suit I had seen last night at the supermarche, so I went down the street he was on, but it still wasn't the hotel's street. I kept walking and finally bumped into the river again, and made myself repeat the steps so I would remember. Rue de Figuier et rue de Prevot (Prevot is a little alley right across from the hotel).
Went to the Louvre today. It's big, it's beautiful, and I got very, very tired. Just figured we've spent $125 US, and we've only been here a day! We bought two muffins and two tiny bottles of water for 46 francs. We've been eating many baguettes--good, and cheap. Martin is going adventuring to the supermarche and he's practicing phrases to tell the hotel clerk when to give us breakfast.
We woke up at 12 midnight and stayed up two hours reading. Were very hungry at this time, I miss chocolate. We saw Mars bars and Snickers for about $1 US at the place where we got the baguettes today. I got an "opera" instead. The candy bars were smaller than in the United States.
Everyone seems to have a dog here, always on a leash. Haven't seen any cats at all. We saw the Mona Lisa and Winged Victory and some statues carved by Michelangelo. Many, many, many people. Martin wore his brown hat. A guard told me not to sit on the concrete block that displayed one of the statues. I didn't have the foggiest what he said, but I got the message that I wasn't supposed to sit there (even if it wasn't really a piece of art . . .)
We walked home and thought this guy was following us. At first, he was behind us, then I noticed he was following quite closely. I stopped, (and told Martin) but the stranger walked on ahead then stopped as if to wait for us, so ended up right behind us again. Finally, he crossed the street and we lost him. It was really strange, and we even walked off rue de Rivoli for awhile to "lose him" just in case.
I am feeling quite bloated from all the bread I'm eating. Didn't notice much elevation/climate adjustment while running, must be all the carbo bread I've eaten, but right about one o'clock in the afternoon my muscles get super, super tired.
Thursday, May 11
Incident de Nerf (night of Wednesday, May 10)
When we moved to Ohio, United States, and stayed in a small apartment for a summer, I bought several nerf balls. I came home and started a nerf fight. The red one developed into just one more way to say "I love you" and has travelled on every trip we've taken since I purchased it.
I was telling Martin about the warm fuzzies I got from red nerf and realized I hadn't moved the nerf when we changed our hotel room. We searched our luggage for lil' red nerf. He was nowhere to be found.
We created this note for the desk clerk:
Trouvez-vous une balle rouge * dans la chambre quarante ces matin? (nerf ball)
*comme eponge
We knocked on the hotel room number 40 first, but no one answered, so Martin went down to the desk clerk. The clerk read the note and said "I'll have to ask them when they come in."
Monsieur clerk called us about 10:30 p.m. "We've got your ball down here, you can come down now or get it in the morning."
Martin went and got it immediately.
"A thousand pardons" I expressed to lil' red nerf.
Went walking, walking, walking aujourd'hui. Started out a gauche down the rue de Rivoli, to Bastille.
In the new opera house, asked, "Il y a la toilette?" and she said it was closed during the day.
On to rue de Henri IV, to Sully where I remembered the public toilette from getting lost yesterday while running. It is 2 francs, the door opens automatically, doesn't smell too bad, flushes and "cleans" automatically when you close the door afterward; also a faucet of running water behind you above the toilet for your hands.
Then walked down the quai de Henri IV, across the bridge to Jardin des Plantes, avec McDonald's! Not for their hamburgers--we never tried those--but pit stop heaven!
Martin says we found salvation at the McDonald's.
One man tried to speak to us and we didn't understand each other. I was trying to say I spoke better French than Martin and the man misunderstood and thought I was talking about "beauty" and he said something about Vincennes . . . finally he gave up.
Then we walked up the rue de L'Hopital to the Place d'Italie.
Avenue des Gobelins. Got postcards for 1 franc. I counted dix-huit, the clerk re-counted dix-sept. I shrugged and he counted once more. A fat, senior French lady got really impatient next to me and put down her money for a newspaper and said something, while I was still paying. Then the clerk and her got into it as I walked out. I felt mad because I didn't say merci monsieur, he was so nice sticking up for me with that impatient woman.
Then we went down le boulevard de Port Royal towards the Jardin du Luxembourg. Stopped at a patissiere, requested un tete de negre, was ready to pay the lady behind the cash register, but the baker (dressed in all white) said something and pointed over to the black woman where the desserts were in the window, and I thought he meant to pay her, so I walked over there. She had wrapped one in paper.
The baker said (in English), "Which tete de negre?" and laughed, and the black lady smiled but it was kind of an embarassed smile, and I said, "a manger." Then the black lady walked over to the register and I paid her. It was a round ball of white meringue, covered with a thin layer of chocolate and then small flat chocolate squares.
Sat awhile in the Jardin du Luxembourg. Very tall trees, ones with spiral white blossoms, and leaves paper-thin like a dogwood but much larger. They form a canopy on two sides and its very dark beneath them. Many kids playing soccer.
One black person stared at me eating le tete de negre. Obviously some very wide cultural differences and views that I'm clueless about. It looked good and tasted good, but I feel it was a mistake to buy it.
Saw some small boys playing, each had a different weapon, one a gun, one a sword, one a foil. The garden had permanent ping-pong tables, made of concrete and a low wall also of concrete across the center with holes in it to mimic the net.
The trees are planted in neat rows. The park reminded me of Golden Gate park in San Francisco, empty benches and chairs all around. I told Martin it would be a great place to film a horror or mystery movie, the darkness beneath the trees is shadowy and frightening.
Then briefly on boulevard Saint Michel, rue des Ecoles, where Martin stayed in 1989, looked for the open French market with fresh fruit he took a picture of in 1989, but couldn't find it. Turned onto rue des Fosses Saint Bernard, crossed Pont du Sully and voila!, lycee de Charlemagne, et le hotel!
Martin says, "then ma femme took us home!", the maze de ma femme, he calls it. We sacked out in the hotel room, very, very tired. Martin says our route was about six miles, but add about two miles with all the walking through the gardens and to the toilette.
Americans, if you see any, just ignore you. Like we're not supposed to acknowledge we're from the United States, but instead pretend we're natives.
Friday, May 12
Martin is at the supermarche getting some goodies for Sabbath.
Today we were very, very tired. It's chilly and dark clouds with sprinkles all day.
We first rode metro to the Country Life restaurant off the Opera station. Rue de Dounou. Hot and cold buffet. No eggs, no cheese, no meat. Had a health food store in front, didn't see any gluten for sale, like Worthington or Loma Linda foods.
Hot buffet had lentils and potatoes and cous cous and gravy and cabbage/tomatoes.
Cold buffet had leeks and artichokes and peppers and onions and lettuce and beets and lots of stuff I didn't know about. Tried a pate vegetale but didn't really like it.
Wandered back to the rue de Rivoli, lots of gold hotels and mosaic tiles in the walkways, bought some parfum.
Went into Jardin de Tuilierres, saw the Arc de Triomphe in the far distance, sat on a bench in front of a carousel merry-go-round. Martin got cold and angry because his camera locked up again. So I said I wasn't going to sit around listening to whining, so he said, I said, he said.
Dans le metro, this musician with a banjo came on and said, "Bon soir Mssr-dames," and sang a horrible song, and I couldn't help smiling at all the expressions, on the faces, like, "Help, I'm trapped and I can't get out, I want to run."
The street workers are dressed in a brilliant green and have plastic brooms and trucks the same color.
We dumped all our stuff in the room, then went over the rue des Deux Ponts to get some baguettes for Sabbath. That shop was closed. But we saw a meat, and also a cheese shop. The meat had no frigeration. The cheese smelled very moldy. One of the patissieries had the tete du negre labelled as meringue chocolat, could it be the area of the city, people think in different ways? St. Paul is the Marais quarter, the boulevard du Port Royal (yesterday) is in the Latin quarter.
I'm tired of being a tourist. Most ignore you, some go out of their way to avoid you, although some seem a bit curious.
I have seen an occasional pink or green, most still wear black. Lots of leather. Leggings are always skin tight. Always black shoes, even with jeans.
Fired up the electricity with the computer last night. Seemed to do fine, the connector box got fairly hot, but was in full capacity in a few hours.
Martin is being very quiet. He asked me if this was a good second honeymoon. "Oui, tres bonne, mais, more tiring."
Saturday, May 13
It poured rain today. We went to church anyway, even though I had told Martin the night before that if it was raining, we wouldn't go.
Last night, we heard several groups of school boys singing while marching down the street.
We rode metro to the church. Another foursome was there from Holland. The locals moved for us to sit, and shared an English hymnal and a French Bible. I enjoyed reading the French Bible. I read Psalms 91 and also where David slays Goliath, plus the texts from the sermon. The pastor said he loves watermelon and wants to share one with Jesus when he gets to heaven. Talked about Noah and the ark--how with all the worldly knowledge everyone had, they still didn't choose to enter the ark, and laughed at the rain, until it came, and then it was too late.
The church was very old, had marble everywhere, on the floor and black iron railings.
It was a very small group because they were renovating the sanctuary (they call it the chapel). It's a church of 900 usually, but for this month (Mai), they've all split up because of the repairs. We attended the service in English, there was one in French, and also a youth service. They had many pictures painted by Harry Anderson on the walls. Preacher spoke until about 12:30; service began at 11:00.
We came back to the hotel and wrote all the postcards. Started to clear off late afternoon, so we tramped out.
We wandered towards the Louvre along the river, and discovered all the plant and animal shops. Want 5950 francs for a bulle douge ($1190). Le chaton (kitten) was 1000 francs ($200). Lots of flowers similar to Ohio--must be close to the same climate.
We hoofed it back to the hotel, and figured out it might be the chocolate that's making me so thirsty, or could also be the dirty city air (bus exhaust fumes, aussi) so we went out about 7:45 p.m. to get some bread and fruit.
We bought a baguette and ate it on the way to our patissierie. On the Ile St Louis; a French woman asked us where we got the baguette; then on to the patissiere, then to supermarche for some fruit, it was about 8:20 p.m. and they closed in ten minutes. I got some oranges and raisin muscat (grapes) and tomatoes. You put it on this weigher and then press the button with the picture of what you have to get a sticker for the price (sold by the pound). The lady at the register was in a huge hurry, it came to 40,10 and I gave her 50, and she asked if I had any smaller, and then she made the change from the coins in my hand. It really made me mad. Makes me feel stupid, like I can't count and don't know the money. Martin says the register people are always in a hurry and always ask you for "correct" change, but it still made me mad. I can count.
These maddening situations, after every one, I think of many things to say (in French), but always after the fact. It's very frustrating.
We went back to the hotel, and I ate an orange.
Sunday, May 14
Running: the sky is beautifully clear today, went running and quite a few "natives" laugh outright at you, two young men, one lifted his legs high like he was jumping, and panted really loud; a couple others started breathing heavy. I don't really care though, because the park is just too far away. I felt the altitude today, my legs were quite stiff and "heavy" feeling. I ate another orange before I went. Also lots of "green" men (the street cleaners) out--two in a truck honked and waved and I waved back, either it was me, or my brilliant green shirt that matches the color of their uniforms. Was encouraged, though, saw quite a few other runners. Went across the des Deux Ponts, and all the way around Ile St Louis, up to Notre Dame, crossing in front of the entrance, then following down the side, back to Ile St Louis, back to hotel. I was afraid to go around the square at Notre Dame, many groups of police, and I had forgotten my passport. Dogs are quite well behaved here, passed several and they just sit (although I did stop running in front of them) Bye for now, battery running low.
My day was made (maid, ha ha) with abricot jam for breakfast.
Went to Musee d'Orsay. Went out for food because it was cheaper. Martin is helping me write this, I'm rather burnt out on details. Musee was cheaper on Sunday, saw someone from Indiana University, said hello, his buddy was from Cleveland. Heard clarinet music on the steps but didn't give him money because he was in the middle of playing and we were off walking to discover food for our stomachs. On this walk, we saw thousands of little French sprouts (too bad, says Martin, we weren't in Belgium to see Brussel sprouts) marching along the street, with each "section" having a banner, not a flag, but something on a pole, like a horse, or a ship.
Then we went through the Jardin Tulierres, where there were big crowds, lots of boats in the fountains, many, many shoppers along the rue de Rivoli. Decided to walk back to the hotel a la rue de Rambuteau, kept getting lost because the street name kept changing, kept getting out our trusty Michelin map; still many, many shoppers, walking along the narrow winding streets.
Martin is obsessing about keeping museum tickets as sovenirs, s'il vous plait. "Humphf," he replies.
Eventually came down from the north end of rue de Mahler to the hotel. We ate our le pain complet (or as I thought Martin was saying, "lapin complet"). We ate the entire loaf, it was light and had seven grains but not whole wheat.
Other famous franglais fraises:
1. "Vous etes le cle?" said Martin, with a question in his voice, wanting to know if I had the room key.
I responded: "Je suis le cle du votre coeur."
2. The monsieur in the room to our right snores very loudly and we usually hear him when we're eating breakfast at about 9 a.m. Martin sang me a song this morning:
"Freres-Jacques, Freres-Jacques, snorez-vous?, snorez-vous?"
At which point, I laughed loud enough to wake him up (the snoring stopped).
Monday, May 15
Woke up very, very sleepy. Got two abricot jams cette matin. No run, le shop aujourd'hui. Bought presents for the folks back home. Mailed all our post cards.
Martin has a franc that has the middle ring loose. The outer brass ring and the inner silver ring, you can push the inner silver ring down a little.
Shopped in the Carousel de Louvre--it's new since Martin was here in 1989. They dug out the center and put the shops underneath. They had a photo display of the construction, also a wall exposed that I think is a foundation from something from Charles V days. I didn't quite understand what the sign said. We discovered a "food court" with international food choices. The graphic for the Mexican cafe had sombreros on two guys with legs kicking in the air--they called a taco salad (with the crispy shell) a "basket salad."
Speaking of hats, Martin "caught" a boy observing his cowboy hat--it's not a cowboy hat! =8-) says Martin, Mai 16. The boy was wearing an alpine hat, and they smiled at each other.
Martin got a salite (salatee?) (it's a quiche but we can't find the name that was used, and we can't remember it) (found out Mai 19 that it's "tarte salee") avec trois fromages, et fromage blanc for dessert. The fromage blanc was lemon-ee, "tres bonnes" said Martin. The salad he got with the meal was just lettuce with mustard-based dressing poured over it.
I got a sandwich du baguette with tomato, provolone cheese, and mustard. I liked the guy that served me, he was very friendly, then I also stuffed Martin's lettuce with dressing in the sandwich.
We're going to le Champs-Elysees tonight to see the lights, Arc de triomphe, Concorde, Palais des Congres.
Tuesday, May 16
Entry by Martin:
Last night, took metro to La Place de la Concorde, between 7 and 8 p.m. Walked through the edge of the Palais park toward the shopping district of the Champs-Elysees. Saw lots of expensive stuff. Stopped in at La Roi du Buger (Burger King) and had a "long chicken" with fries and Sprite. Paid 5 francs extra to make it "king sized" with large drink and large fries. Total was 38,20 francs--about $7.50 US--high by home standards. Asked the young guy behind the counter about the fete de la jeunesse. We communicated badly, but I got some information from him (I already had a vague notion what was going on, just needed some more details). Later he got me one of the programs that spells out by district what's going on. There may be some photo exhibits I'd like to look at, but since the fete is on Sabbath, we probably won't participate. Some of it looks like it will be right at our metro station 50 meters away--we may not have too much choice about listening.
Continued walking to the Arc de Triomphe. Took some daylight pictures of two of the large formations, and one of CP as a ghost with Bullwinkle shirt. The Arc didn't get lighted until 9:55 p.m. Took a couple of pictures of us in front of the Arc. About the time I was finally ready to take the pictures, a tour bus disgorged Japanese tourists with cameras, taking pictures of each other 60-70 meters from the Arc. Walked back to the Concorde, stopping at several of the shops along the way. Still lots of people out at 10:30 p.m. At the Place, took several long exposures looking back to the Arc along the Champs. Then repeated exposures from daylight of the fountain closest to the metro--time exposures to blur the water. Got what I hope will be neat of Tour Eiffel through the fountain. Had to wait for several minutes for another photog with Hasselblad to finish his shots. He was right in the middle of what I wanted to shoot. Didn't get done with these until almost 11:30. Metro closes at midnight, plus CP was tres tired. I'll have to go back one night by myself to get the other shots I wanted. This morning realized I kept her out way too late.
More via Martin:
CP didn't sleep well, and was up a while trying to compose a message to keep the maid from coming back. It didn't work. CP was almost in tears from frustration and lack of sleep and poured coffee on the breakfast tray. (CP wants a note that I was just "nerfed" while writing this).
CP went running; I ate the half of a baguette that didn't have coffee on it and a croissant and most of the coffee remains. I made CP leave the room key, which upset her because she didn't want to interact with the woman at the desk when she got back from her run. I didn't realize her feelings, just wanted to go by the "rules" as I knew them. CP snuck fresh towels from a stack in the hall. Later in the day when the maid finally brought fresh towels, I had to tell her we already had some. CP wanted me to get the extras anyway. I didn't think we needed them, but then it hasn't been bothering me quite as much when the maid comes, but it has been getting on my nerves, too.
After CP's run, we took showers and then CP napped for quite a while. The maid missed my "do not disturb" sign en francais, and knocked about 2:30 p.m.
Went to Les Halles soon after and were disappointed in the shopping. Had some pretty good pizza--15 francs for about a 5-6 inch square piece of cheese pizza.
I asked "avez-vous pizza sans viande?" and was only told about the cheese pizza. Told him I wanted one. Then CP noticed the mushroom pizza and onion pizza. I pointed at each one in turn and said "pas de viande?" and he said "Oui."
But CP didn't want a separate piece. The clerk seemed upset. Don't really understand these French. Why didn't he tell me about all the meatless pizza when I asked him the first time?
Also had a good piece of chocolat noir pie. Took metro to the cite, saw a couple of nice plant shops, then walked through the rain to our boulangerie on Ile St Louis for a baguette and a couple of pieces of pie: fromage blanc (not sweet and not lemon-ee like the piece at the Carosel de Louvre) and something like guarette amondine (good, but not strong on the almond flavor). Will probably pass on these flavors and try something new next time.
Went to the supermarche by myself about 7 p.m. Got CP some oranges. A clerk was unloading boxes of oranges, and he handed me some when he saw me picking them out.
The ones he handed me didn't look the best, and I told him "pour ma femme -- particular" and proceeded to pick out what I thought were good ones.
My brain is fried. When I went through the checkout, I didn't/couldn't say a word to the clerk. My language center just shut down. Spent about 50 francs for four bottles of water, two tomatoes, 125g of cookies, 125g of butter (President gastronomique), 5 oranges, and a 300g bag of potato chips. The butter was excellent on the remains of the baguette.
Wednesday, May 17
Description of Le petit dejeuner:
cafe au lait
sucre ("Trophee Daddy, Eurosucre")
S'mamet qualite: confiture d'abricots
S'mamet qualite: gelee de frambroises
President Beurre (gastronomique)
le couteau, la cuillere, pas de la fourchette
quatre l'assiette
deux tasse
le petite carafe (avec cafe)
le plus petite carafe (avec lait chaud)
deux croissants
deux baguettes
dans le plateau
le petit ecolier: biscuit au beurre avec tablette de chocolat
Il pleut, again, cloudy and patches of blue before it started raining; maid lurking in the hallway; our buddy snoring next door.
I slept well yesterday, so I feel better today. I've decided to talk English to the maids, even to say hello. It's like, although I make the effort--I'm hurting your ears talking the language, so I'd prefer to just speak English, n'est-ce pas? I get this "cringe" effect when I do speak--I know I'm saying the right words, but the accent is horrible. Martin said he didn't sleep well last night.
I'm at the open window--it was getting stuffy inside. It's still raining. We were out in it yesterday a bit--wasn't too bad with the sports coat and I wore the Bullwinkle hat, but it gave me a headache.
Saw a lady in the alley, rue de Prevot, yesterday coming back from running, feeding a flock of pigeons on her window. They were all sitting on the ledge flapping and cooing, and she was talking to them. A few bread crumbs fluttered down. Didn't do much yesterday, but cry (because of the maid interaction failure), run, and sleep. Went shopping at Les Halles but was disappointed at the Americanized shopping mall, lots of rude people, and the center itself wasn't kept up too well.
It got too chilly, I closed the window. Have seen about four kids on roller skates but no roller blades. We looked at mountain bikes yesterday at the mall and they wanted close to $2,000 for the latest model. Saw a 10-speed, skinny wheel for about $400.
Speaking of bikes, are they kamikaze here! When I was sitting at the Place de la Concorde, saw at least four bikes, some men, some women, but they simply rode right along with the traffic, no helmets, with older style bikes.
The traffic was fascinating to watch around the "star" at the Arc de Triomphe (they call it "etoile"). Really fast, crazy, bikes and cars, but not one wreck! It is amazing there is no crime in the tunnel to get to the Arc. It has very dim lighting.
While I sat waiting for Martin to take his pictures, I thought it rather foolish for me to have to travel halfway across the world to feel "safe". I don't want to go back to the fear. Even the metro doesn't have that same fear (we rode metro back at about 11:30 p.m.)
I find myself wondering what are the trade-offs? the increased use of technology, like television/cable and computers? the availability? the freedom? (what freedom, really, if you live in fear?) At Les Halles, we saw really the first "homeless" residents, some at the metro entrance, some within the Center.
I don't know what we'll be doing today, since it's raining. I wish I had brought my sweater from home. It's been cold almost the whole time. So far, I haven't found anything "French" to wear, it all seems to be cotton and available in the United States and also rather pricey.
Thursday, May 18
Rain in the morning, about noon cleared up into large puffy clouds and patches of blue skies, with a chilly wind, like yesterday.
We split up in the morning, started out about 11:00 a.m. Martin went to Notre Dame for tripod pictures, and I, shopping. Wanted to go back to the Mark Stevens on rue de Rivoli but couldn't find it, got sidetracked at a sports store where the floors seemed to just keep going, and going, with a wide staircase up/down the center.
Then discovered the Samaritan, which is three stores, went in the kids play toys one first, the whole floor filled with Disney, Barbie, and more. I thought, "Get me out of here."
Saw a directory and saw vetements professional on sous sal, which I guessed was the basement, so went down there, and it was mostly uniforms, like white nurse uniforms, and aprons, and work pants for men. I went upstairs one floor and finally saw across the street the store windows of the "real" store, and in that store, saw a map that showed the store had three buildings on different streets.
Looked around at socks, and then up in women's, and also men's for my Dad, but lots of suits and not much else except "American" Levi's and Marlboro classics. Found some semi-French sweaters but not the right size for Dad. Was tempted to buy one for me, I liked them, but obviously a man's sweater. I was the only woman and the men kept looking at me like "what are you doing in the men's section?"
Didn't see much French designs in women's, thus returned to the caisse in the central aisles, purchased my socks, which I guessed at the size (35-37), and they fit, voila.
Then I decided to walk back to our rendez-vous (the architecture museum at Notre Dame) and crossed the Pont Neuf. By now, sun shining brightly and wind blowing sharply, with clouds and blue. Beat Martin to the place, so sat waiting. A British(?) couple asked me to take their picture (asking if I spoke English first, in rather stumbling English); also many artists were there, drawing caricatures, lots of the students/teenagers hovered around them.
When I saw Martin's hat, I ran across the square, saying "Eiffel, Eiffel" referring to our plan that the next sunny day we had we'd go to the Eiffel tower, because there aren't many days left, and it seems to be raining every one.
We went back to the room, and ended up going to Moulin Rouge, Montmartre and Sacre Couer instead.
Got a little twisted finding the Moulin Rouge, and walked over a cemetery with all the graves above the ground. As in New Orleans, although we seemed to be on high ground, so I don't know why they were above the ground.
Found Moulin Rouge, and left quickly. Topless dancing, for a 750 francs "recommended" dinner at night. But the red windmill is there.
Went up to the Moulin de la Galette, on a higher hill, surrounded by grill iron gates. I believe the area is private property. We walked around to see if you could enter on the other side, and it was closed off into private housing.
Then walked into the (in)famous square of Montmartre, where all the artists paint. Pencil artists walk around with blank sheets of paper and ask if you want a portrait. The square is right below Sacre Coeur.
Sacre Coeur is quite imposing. We entered the St. Peter Basilica first.
I had the inevitable "Ou est la toilette" question because I had just drank a 7up (the cheapest soda we've seen, 10 francs), so I got Martin to go down the steps with me and gagged because the men didn't even bother to use the stalls.
While waiting for Martin, this bus driver was trying to park a tour bus in between two cars, where there wasn't enough room.
The stairs to the top of Sacre Coeur were very narrow, and winding and small, and looked like much water gushed out over the roofs in rain. Waited to let two couples pass, exiting the wrong way. Got to the top, walked around the circle a couple times, took pictures, saw the artist's square and the famous landmarks, and the old apartment's geometric designs as they follow the roads, red rooftops, and many construction cranes. I told Martin we should do a series: Paris by Cranes. Also another series, the Metro Stations of Paris, because each one is so unique. The Liege metro station has beautiful ice blue pictures on the walls, painted to look like inlaid tiles.
Walked out the exit and were treated to a view of the large dome from the inside, and ended up in the gift shop. We walked around the church inside. I lit a 10 franc candle at the Pax et Bonum mini-chapel--these chapels surround the inner chamber.
Another American encounter:
Sat down outside on the steps, and this plumpish blonde lady came over and sat close to us (not more than a yardstick away from Martin). Her daughter was taking a picture.
Martin said "Greetings" and she kept reading her tour book.
After a bit, Martin said, "Y'all from the States?" and again was completely ignored.
Then the daughter came and sat right next to Martin (but she was turned at right angles to him, like the mother), and at this point the father came up and they started discussing in quiet whispers about Sacre Coeur hours/entrance/payment.
Then Martin said, "Are you going to the chapel or the dome?" to the daughter, whose eyes slid towards him quickly and then darted away, with not a word was spoken.
Then the lost son appeared (standing) and the father (standing) proceeded to chew him out for not being at the "meeting place" blah, blah, blah, while we were sitting behind them. Then eventually they all stood and left.
And we laughed.
I hugged Martin and said, "My poor, friendly Southern hubby."
And he said, "Yes, well, maybe if I had not used y'all . . ."
Then we walked down the very steeply terraced steps of the Sacre Coeur and followed the rue de Dunkerque to the Gare du Nord, whereupon we spied our ever friendly Mickey D's with those brightly shining golden arches.
Saw a little boy walking in the gushing street water with his plastic boots while his mom walked on the safely dry, but boring sidewalk. Also saw a policeman with a german shepherd "sniffer" at the Gare du Nord metro.
We figured out Parisiennes work 9 to 7 with a two-hour lunch, because metro was jam-packed at 7:28 p.m. Didn't like being squished, so I came up to the room and crashed, while Martin went a shoppin'.
"I stuck the clerk with a 100," he said as he showed me the goods from the supermarche. Funny thing, tho', this clerk even helped him pack the bag with the other packages from the patisserie. He got cheese and bread and butter cookies, and they're calling me.
Friday, May 19
Went running this a.m. Ran around the Ile St Louis, saw several others running. Forgot my passport again, and ended up at a stoplight with two policemen. Tried to squelch the fear of them asking for my passport and not having it.
Went into the Plein Ciel bookstore, almost next door to the hotel, and discovered that there is a cartoon figure called Asterisk, which is what my bright green running shirt has imprinted on it. I couldn't figure out who was Asterisk--there's a fat guy, and also a small, action guy. So, I have been running through Paris wearing cartoon clothes.
Asked about the Bible, but the lady was rather brusque (the atmosphere of the store, and other clerks, that way) and told us to go downstairs (sous sal), and about three minutes later came and showed us where it was, then stood waiting for us to just pick it up and buy it. It was in three large volumes, a Catholic edition, had the Apocrypha.
Discovered a courtyard and park, surrounded on the outside with the typical arbor of trees. They manicure the trees into almost a square hedge, and it's very dark, shady, and cool. Great for summer, but for right now, we crave the sun.
It's the Place des Vosges, (p. 91 Michelin green guide). The guide says this is Paris' oldest square (dates from 1407). This is where the Fetes de les Jeunesse tomorrow will take place, in this quarter.
The tile and brick inlaid in the ceiling was unique under the arcades. Some stores, antiques, high-priced dresses, paintings, nothing we could afford, also several restaurants.
Then we wandered around through the back streets, eventually coming upon the sewing shop where I had spied some beautiful napkins with cherry harvesting scenes. There were four ladies crowded in the store, so I walked in, but left quickly. We discovered the small square napkins were 890 francs for six.
We looked around for something more in our price range, but without being able to go in the store . . . I dropped my dream of cherry pickin' napkins.
Rode metro to the Eiffel, got out at the Trocadero. One black guy insisted on trying to get Martin to sign something for Rwanda or somewhere in Africa. He kept hanging on Martin's arm, so I came back and said in a loud voice "Non, monsieur, sil vous plait" and he still didn't really want to give up.
The air academy was celebrating its 60th anniversary and had a trainer plane parked on the plaza there, with young cadets swarming around. There were some Africans playing a slow beat on the drums.
Walked through the park towards the Ecole Militaire to the Suisse village. Lots of antique stores, but the kind I would never look twice at in the States, too expensive. Wandered back, looking for the ever evasive toilet. Bought two Magnum bars at a boulongerie--chocolat blanc and chocolat cafe. Got caught in a quick rain shower. Stood under a store awning while the worst of it dumped, and ate the Magnum bars.
Didn't have to wait in much of a line for the Eiffel. "Soffet" means top. Rode a large elevator to the second tier. Walked around, still lower than the Sacre Coeur. There's a grill on the outside, so you can't lean over the edge. They have interesting notes of history about the tower on stand-alone billboards called "le Journal." Some mountaineers have climbed it--someone bungee jumped from the second tier--they flew a huge Union Jack from the tower in 1938 when Queen Elizabeth and hubby visited.
The wait was for the "soffet". Waited about 30 minutes total, in a crowd full of Americans. Obnoxious, some, others pretending they somehow weren't Americans.
You can see out of both elevator systems. The ride isn't too scary, after the first liftoff.
At the top, they have the more important monuments mapped out for you in an enclosed room, also above the map they have all the countries (by flags) and the distance in that direction. They have the United States (San Francisco, New York, Washington DC), Alaska (Anchorage), Hawaii (Honolulu).
Went outside while it was raining in the clouds. Finally the sun broke through, and there was a rainbow on the northeast and southeast ends, southeast was strongest and longer.
There was a bathroom at the top of the Eiffel. That's right, a bathroom. So I donated 2 francs to the cause. Clean, with a friendly attendant, didn't see any soap for the hands, though.
Saw a school's athletic track, with a soccer field in the middle, with students playing soccer. The gardens looked pretty from the top, with the flowers making various colors.
Went down to the first floor, and Martin wanted to take more photos, so I parked myself in the little cafe there. Bought a tarte framboise for 20 francs, took two Tylenol, and sat. The clerk smiled at my tripping over the word "framboise" but she understood what I wanted, then I couldn't remember the word for knife, fork or spoon, so I just motioned with my hand to my mouth several times, and she went and got a fork/napkin/knife and said, "Voila, Madame."
Tried to take our "passport photo" in one of those auto photo booths, but the thing wouldn't take our money. So we went to watch the sunset on the Eiffel, it was red at night, sailor's delight. Also looked beautiful reflected in some of the mirrored skyscrapers in the distance.
By the time we got back to earth, the tower was lighted, and we walked back to Trocadero bathed in a golden glow.
Riding home on the metro, we heard the funniest thing. It was a record, on a rather loud stereo system, "You better come home, Speedy Gonzales" with a "Punch and Judy" puppet show. I thought it was Elvis, but Martin didn't think so. We gave him a ½ franc--I wanted to give him more just for making me laugh. Others were actually laughing and smiling too. That's one of the more original ones I've seen. Like I told Bill and Louise (the couple we met on the RER returning from Versailles) on BART (San Francisco), you get all these people who babblespeak, but on this metro, at least it's music. We've had accordions, and muted trumpets, and a band with guitars, and this funny puppet show.
Saturday, May 20 (happy 5th anniversary!)
Pour nos anniversaire petit dejeuner, same as Wednesday (17th) except we had "confiture de cerises" (cherry jam) 30g each, from a company "Materne" fruibourg, 383 rue Ph. Heron 69654 Villefranche s/s.
Rode metro to Bateaux Mouches(r), to tour the river Seine. Very cloudy, saw an older couple, the man was born in Steubenville, Ohio, but they lived in Maryland now. The boat ride was very peaceful going against the current (east) (the Seine flows northwest into the Atlantic), no wind. Coming back (west), going with the current, there was a stiff breeze. A British family with three small boys kept us entertained with their accents and antics on the boat. The company had a photographer to take your picture for posterity. Looked bored and burnt out.
For an hour, we listened to the tour guide describe the sites in five languages. Everyone on the streets and bridges waved to us. I joked to Martin that's the only time Parisiennes like Americans, when they're on a boat in the river Seine.
Never did rain, sun felt good. Coming back near the Ile St Louis, had to wait for a barge, this one bridge they're fixing or building is very, very low. The pilot's "bridge" could raise or lower to accommodate the bridge heights. Also saw a pieton bridge, near the Louvre, which was graceful, with metal "lace" like the Eiffel.
We walked to the Champs-Elysees, and walked, and walked with several other hundreds of thousands, reading menus and figuring francs. Ate at Pomme de Pain, a street cafe.
Two painters were painting a construction canvas next to the restaurant. A huge canvas, with two pigs in a field of red poppies, with a blue sky and some clouds. The painters had several buckets of paint, and two color photographs to copy. One of the painters was standing back looking at the painting, comparing to the photograph, and I looked at the photo, and he showed me and I think he asked if it was good, and I said, "Oui, bon" and walked away. He looked disappointed. I think he wanted an in-depth critique and I just felt frustrated with my limited French.
Sunday, May 21
There's a calliope across the street by the supermarche, playing all kinds of different songs. It's warm today, for once. Went running, up rue de Mahler, across to Place des Vosages, down Henri IV, across Pont de Sully, down the quays to Pont Neuf, along the quays to Pont des Deux Neufs.
Went to buy sox des Tin Tin on the rue de Rivoli. All they had were men's sizes.
I said, "Avez-vous le taille petit?" as I held up the size, and the clerk said no.
I walked away very disappointed, but came back after walking a little down the rue, and bought one pair, with a Tin Tin scene from "On a Marche sur la Lune" and two postcards, one with a Chinese Tin Tin scene for my best friend.
Planted ourselves in the Jardin des Tulieres. Martin went shooting photos for a long while, and I was ready to abandon ship and go shopping again on the rue de Rivoli when he appeared. A mime kept people laughing, but also kept people in Martin's photo shots, and he also got chewed out by one of the guards for using a tripod at the Louvre mimic of the Arc de Triomphe.
Walked with Martin to the Concorde for more photos, then on down the Champs for a double glace at Pommes de Pain. I got mad because a French couple cut in line. Because they were natives they felt they should be served first.
Walked back along the Champs through the Tulieres, sat down on a bench under the dark canopy. Then onward and upward to the Geodome and the Parc de la Villette.
The Geo is impressively like my mirrored sunglasses, and because the small triangles are angled all over, you can't really see yourself, unless you are walking past a flat tile. They have raised walkways over the quays--the one canal was built in the early 1800s to bring in the cattle for butchering.
Saw many dogs, and kids playing soccer, and lots of bikes, the cement/stone walkway along the canal is very wide.
Martin shot an entire roll of film and on the 37 frame, opened the camera without re-winding. Got very upset. Re-shot the entire roll, but sadly, couldn't replace the pleasure boat and barge with piles of sand that scooted along the canal during the first roll.
Back by metro, Sully-Morland, discovered a little "quick stop" shop by Henri Galli Square, entered, and the owner was very friendly.
Martin asked "Avez-vous le moutard?" and the owner showed him where. We bought some Savora moutard.
Martin's addition in the wee hours, actually Monday:
Left the hotel about 10 p.m. to shoot Notre Dame, Hotel deVille, and Place de la Concorde. Never made it to Concorde. Walked to rue de Deux Ponts on the Ile St Louis, and then on the left bank to take the first set of shots of the cathedral. Tried to find some tree limbs to help hide the scaffolding.
There were a bunch of tour boats coming through with their gigawatt light setups, blasting any attempt to get pictures. My exposures were running from 8 seconds to 30 seconds, plus the 10 second self timer. A fresh tour boat showed up about every second frame.
Also waited for walkers along the river. A threesome was in most of the pictures--hopefully they'll be blurry enough to not be distinguishable and I won't need releases if the pictures turn out good.
Went back to the bridge, then started toward the cathedral after passing a potential picture site. Got halfway down the block before I turned around. Was my vision, not what the photographer used on a postcard we bought, and my only chance here to get it. The place smelled strongly of urine. Hope I wasn't sitting in it, but don't think so--looked dry.
At the Hotel de Ville, saw several cops and said "bonsoir." First one seemed suspicious of my tripod, the second pair seemed suspicious of me, until I said "bonsoir messer-dammes." Then they pretty much ignored me.
Walked home about 11:30 since it didn't seem like enough time to get to Concorde, take pictures, and still get back on the metro before they closed at 12. A little nervous walking this late, but lots of people out. Seems much safer than at home.
Monday, May 22
Bullwinkle does Paris aujourd'hui. Am wearing a Taco Bell Bullwinkle shirt, with Martin's green/brown geo shirt underneath, and brown leggings, black puff socks, white tennis shoes.
Going to the fleamarket today, and the Pantheon, and maybe some other wandering. Also walking down the rue de la Huchette.
Went to the flea market and promptly got lost in all the twist and turns and dirty, urine-smelling streets. Lots of antiques, lots of dogs, lots of booth owners sitting around having gourmet lunches with wine and a white table cloth.
We walked endlessly, and I gave up early because it was all things I could never take home. I guess if I was living here it'd be interesting to explore, but didn't see anything under $200 US. There were lots of chairs, from just the frame to finished product, saw all kinds of 1950's retro furniture, and huge wooden armoires.
In quite a few places, the buildings had wooden blocks laid on the floor like bricks, and of course they weren't tight together, so they knocked each other as you stepped over them.
Scooted along back to the St Michel station, to go to the Pantheon (a mimic of the Roman one in the Latin Quarter by Sorbonne) where many famous people are buried, including the Curies.
Got a little sidetracked, still looking for the Bible, en francais. By now I had clued in to ask for a "protestant" version. Discovered this huge bookstore, Librarie Gibert, that had three sections near the rue de Huchette. Asked the clerk about a Bible, he gave us directions, which I partially understood, but we just found Catholic ones, even though I had specified protestant.
So wandered down Huchette, and Martin tenaciously entered another small bookstore, and I forced myself to ask the man "Avez-vous le Bible, protestant?"
I think he understood English, even though he spoke French.
He got a very small one down, and I was so excited, trying to think of how to tell him how we had looked so long for one, and I said, "Le taille est parfait."
He acted like he had understood everything I had been saying to Martin, and said this was the only Protestant Bible available, like it was common, and you could buy it anywhere.
He didn't really understand my happiness, but at the flea market, and also Plein Ciel, the Bible was four volumes, and always the Catholic edition.
So I walked away with my treasure from the Huchette writers rue.
Then we walked up a steep hill, passing many students, and a recently smashed beer bottle. I was starving, so I demanded Martin to stop while I went into a small grocery, looking for eats. I only had a 200 francs, so I walked back to Martin for smaller change, then walked back and bought Petit Ecoliers. We ate the entire box by the end of the night.
Wasn't too impressed with Pantheon, walked up to the entrance and a very cool draft emitted from the dark environs, but they wanted $6 US to enter, so we didn't.
Walked back past University of Paris/Sorbonne, and down rue des Ecoles to the Italian restaurant Martin and his mom and his brother, Dan, ate at alot while they were here in 1989. Pizza Roma. Dan took them on a tour of Europe, including Colmar.
Martin took a picture of the "old" hotel, and I was leery of my first restaurant experience. Very few other patrons, it was early, about 5 p.m. so we got the corner seat by the street. Got tortellini pesto, Martin got spaghetti pesto, with bread, and water, but didn't drink the water.
Then Martin had decafe au lait, and me decafeine. Bill was 118 francs. Walked back home--a boy passed us on a skateboard with his pet rat riding on his neck.
Talked a bit with the friendliest hotel clerk when we got back. He has two daughters and a dog. I told him we have three cats. He asked about kids, we said no, he said Paris was a good place to start (or something like that).
He is more patient than most, slowing down in his pronunciation, and explaining what he said, and trying to understand our French, and English.
Tuesday, May 23
We are getting antsy to return to our three kitties. Did a pack of all the goodies--everything fits. Martin was out late last night again, went to Eiffel to shoot some shots, left about 11:45 p.m. I was snoozing in the room.
Nerf spent a night under the bed. I'm sure he'd be screaming if he could.
I've developed a "french nerf" as opposed to a french kiss, and that's to roll the nerf over Martin's eyes, all the way across his face. "You have been French nerfed," I say.
I've shopped 'til I've dropped; onto the bed in the room with the window wide open and the sun shining.
Martin and I split up because I didn't want to go to any of the museums. He had two left, architecture at Notre Dame and military at Napoleon's tomb. I wanted to shop.
We walked across the street, Pizza MoMo for lunch. Sat down at a table and a young guy came out and said they didn't open until 8 p.m. but all the tables were set. Then the delivery/owner? talked to us from a white truck, said to come back, it's too early to eat, eat a sandwich . . . what a guy, what a place. So we split up, thinking to come back to the restaurant tonite.
We asked Mr. Friendly at the hotel where the Printemps store was, and he called back the woman owner(?) and she showed me on a metro map on the wall across from the desk.
So I went, and the metro went right into the Galeries La Fayette, which was a store within a store within a store as Dune-ites would say. There are at least three buildings, one for women, one for men, and one for house items.
The one I was in from metro had cuisine on the basement level, china, kitchen, culinary, imports. The Galeries is not one store, but many, many, many stores, like an American mall without inside walls separating the stores. You just walk to the items you want, or wish you could have.
The upper floors are in a circle, and the center ceiling is a dome. In the center of the first floor is the perfume, so on the higher levels, you look down on the perfume section. All is beautifully colored, with gold and glass, and wrought iron railings and decorations. The wrought iron is painted cream.
I walked outside still in search of Printemps, but walked the wrong way, and found a McDonald's.
"A moyenne Fanta, emporter, sil vous plait."
Then found Printemps, past the Galeries, and was rather disappointed. Didn't have as much choice as the Galeries.
The sales clerks kept asking, "Qu'est-ce que vous avez?"
I was struck dumb. It's what they say if you have questions, or want to try something on, or buy something. I couldn't figure out how to say, "I'm just looking."
My energy supply was only coming from a half baguette I had eaten for breakfast, so I decided I couldn't walk all the way back to Mickey's for the bathroom. Asked three people where the bathroom was, and all I could catch each time was "photo" but nobody ever gave me specifics on where the "photo" was. I finally found a little vendor with all kinds of Kodak film by one of the entrances.
There was a toilette attendant, but it didn't say you had to pay. I wasn't going to at first, but a Chinese lady walked in front of everyone in line.
The attendant said, "Ici, attendez."
I committed 2 francs to the attendant then and there for keeping everyone in their proper place in line. Some women came in and just looked in the mirror, fussed with their hair, or washed their hands, and paid 2 francs. Out of maybe 10-15 that were there, I only saw one that didn't pay.
I had been looking at a bleu scarf with imprinted cherries on it, 450 francs. Silk, Sonia Rykiel.
I was beat, and had blisters on my right foot, or sores--it hurt to walk. Walked back to metro, and a calliope guy was there with two kitties curled up by his machine, one on top, and one in a box on the floor. The floor kitty had a ball dangling from the machine to play with. I didn't pet them, but I gave the guy 2 francs, and said:
"Merci monsieur, J'ai trois chats dans ma maison, Etats-Unis."
He nodded and said "Oh, Oh" in a understanding voice.
I bought a double ice cream, vanille and menthe, 15 francs, and in the hotel, the woman owner was at the desk with her same friend that was there when I asked where Printemps was that morning.
They both smiled, like they understood--like the shopping created a kindred spirit, or maybe I just looked tired--I think the ice cream looked good, too.
Wednesday, May 24
We are "escaping" Paris just in time. The Ascension fete is Jeudi, 24 Mai.
Our Mr. Friendly hotel clerk was there to pay the bill, we talked a little. He said to come back with the baby.
Was rainy leaving Paris. Had to go on the RER, which was interesting, got to see some of the Paris countryside before leaving. Wore my Bullwinkle shirt.
Customs wasn't bad. I'm writing this in Atlanta. We're trapped on a plane--they've closed the Dayton airport, with a severe thunderstorm moving through just as we were ready to take off, and there's one approaching, also, plus tornados in the weather system.
I called Dad to let him know we had changed, but just got his answering machine. So I called him just before we got on this plane, and he answered "Yellow Taxi Service." I'm frustrated because I can't call him and tell him about this major delay, and we might end up landing in Dayton at 10 p.m. anyway.
I'm very sleepy. I ate nachos supreme at the Atlanta airport. I missed eating Mexican food in Paris. Coming back on the flight, we watched Little Women and (I think) a movie called Slam Dunk or maybe it was just a propoganda HBO film about a take-over of the United States government by a "coup", with all the cuss words bleeped out.
I slept, but only a little. A rather crusty man sat by us and picked his nose the entire flight. We had Irish butter, and English crackers, and French camembert cheese. I couldn't stand the smell so didn't eat it.
We used up all our francs, every last one, on chocolat biscuits from the airport newstand at Orly, so I, of course, eating chocolate, spilled some on my shirt.
"Bullwinkle did a boo-boo," I explained to Martin.
"Now we know he's a chocolate moose."
Since we used up all our francs, we gave the bathroom attendants at Orly the last of our billet of metro tickets.
My eyes are getting sleepy.
The stewards are acting silly because of the delay. Serving us drinks and telling us to eat slowly, because this is lunch and dinner, and showing passengers the emergency exit at the very rear of the plane.
Didn't have trouble at customs, but there were many people. Martin didn't declare anything--told them about the mustard and the petit couers. Went through the agricultural customs, not the "declare" customs, and that was that.
Asked for a hand inspection for the computer going out of Orly and they wouldn't.
"Pas probleme, I am sure," said the attendant.
The immigration police are called "polices des frontiers" on their badges.
Asked for a hand inspection coming into Atlanta, and they did. Basically, they just ask you to turn on the computer, and put the carrying case through x-ray. Paris has two inspections, one with your passport and one at the departure gate; Atlanta had one coming in.
It's comforting to hear English voices surround us again.
I told Martin Dayton should build a skywalk around the city, so pedestrians could walk, and shop, and eat baguettes downtown.
Photograph thumbnails
Sainte-Chapelle and Palais de Justice
Versailles
A new language
