We closed the door to our small Paris apartment for the last time - it was 6:30 am and the streets of the Latin Quarter were dark and wet, the clatter of the wheels from our bags the only sound to be heard as we made our way to Cookie's hotel, followed by a brisk walk to St Michel station.
Tickets purchased, the train arrives and we all get on, Cookie headed for the airport and all of us holding back, knowing that the last goodbye is only minutes away. Debbie and I get off at the next stop and we see Cookie looking out from her window seat, tears held back by everyone as she disappears into the tunnel and we head for our train to Milan and on to Padua.
We are now flying through the French countryside on a TGV (translation: very f...ing fast train), the morning mist and cloud hang over the land like a blanket, lakes and rivers flash by; the first stop comes and goes and we go on deeper into the centre of France, ever closer to our change of trains at Milan.
D2
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Monday, 10 October 2011
Saturday, 8 October 2011
Musee d'Orsay
First you take an old railway station on the banks of the River Seine in the heart of Paris, the kind of railway station we have all seen in old black and white movies - hundreds of metres long and eight or ten platforms wide with a high curved, glass panelled roof. Then you undertake a restoration, renovation and re-modelling exercise to create a building that becomes a work of art in itself, a massive central sculpture gallery with three levels of salons and smaller more intimate galleries devoted to the major art themes and artists. Finally you fill these spaces with the works of Rodin, Manet, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Lautrec, Degas and many others, exquisite period furniture, clocks, mirrors and chandeliers, and you create a viewing experience that is beyond comparison with any other museum or art gallery I have ever been in. This is the Musee d'Orsay. Outstanding!
On the other side of the River Seine is The Louvre, and there are at least a thousand people waiting to get in, all standing in the cold Autumn breeze, and not knowing what they are missing.
D2
On the other side of the River Seine is The Louvre, and there are at least a thousand people waiting to get in, all standing in the cold Autumn breeze, and not knowing what they are missing.
D2
A Special Event
Last Wednesday morning (yes, I know, I'm running a bit late with recording this), David and I were looking to fill in time before we met Cookie, who was due to arrive from Copenhagen around the middle of the day, so David suggested we go in search of a couple of the old synagogues in Paris to see what they were like.
In 2009 we visited the synagogue in Siena, Italy and found it very interesting. It had been built at the end of the 18th century and we had a chat with a lovely woman there who showed us through, telling us that they were proud to have added a new member to their congregation following the recent birth of a baby to a young couple who lived in Siena. She advised that this brought the total number of Jews in Siena to 22. The synagogue was in some disrepair and quite modest in appearance.
On Wednesday we sought out two synagogues here in Paris, one on Rue Pavee which had been consecrated in 1913 and the other on Rue Notre Dame de Nazareth, consecrated in 1852. The former was very run-down, sadly, but we spoke to a gentleman there and were made welcome. Due to lack of language skills, we weren't able to discover anything about the Jewish community, but it was nice to see the inside of the building. The latter, older, synagogue was actually more ornately decorated and seemed to be in better condition than the former.
Afterwards we walked around the local area and noticed there were a few Jewish cafes and shops and other evidence of Jewish life. We had a little morning tea at the Korcarz deli on Rue de Rosiers and can highly recommend the poppyseed strudel next time you're in Paris!
Today is Yom Kippur, the highest holy day in the Jewish calendar. For Jews all over the world it is a day of fasting and deep self-contemplation, a day when we ask for forgiveness for any wrongdoing over the past year and ask G-d to look after us in the year ahead. Cookie and I wanted to observe this day despite being away from home, where one would normally attend the local synagogue and say appropriate prayers, including one called Yizkor for departed loved ones (parents, specifically). My cousin Linda in New York had told me that she once spent a Yom Kippur in Paris and had gone to Notre Dame and said Yizkor there. After seeing inside Notre Dame earlier this week, the idea of doing this struck me with such strong emotion that I decided it was the perfect location for Cookie and me. I don't know a lot of Jewish prayers off by heart so I did a bit of research last night and prepared something for us to recite. Now I have no idea whether it was the "right" thing for us to do, but it was certainly right for us. Although the prayer I put together was not exactly what would have been said in a synagogue, I didn't think that really mattered.
This morning, my darling girl and I sat in the very back row of the Notre Dame, huddled together, and whispered first the Kaddish (prayer for the dead), then Yizkor in Hebrew and English then (my favourite) the 23rd Psalm ("The L-rd is my shepherd..."). We were both quite teary and I am absolutely certain we will remember the event for the rest of our lives.
D1
In 2009 we visited the synagogue in Siena, Italy and found it very interesting. It had been built at the end of the 18th century and we had a chat with a lovely woman there who showed us through, telling us that they were proud to have added a new member to their congregation following the recent birth of a baby to a young couple who lived in Siena. She advised that this brought the total number of Jews in Siena to 22. The synagogue was in some disrepair and quite modest in appearance.
On Wednesday we sought out two synagogues here in Paris, one on Rue Pavee which had been consecrated in 1913 and the other on Rue Notre Dame de Nazareth, consecrated in 1852. The former was very run-down, sadly, but we spoke to a gentleman there and were made welcome. Due to lack of language skills, we weren't able to discover anything about the Jewish community, but it was nice to see the inside of the building. The latter, older, synagogue was actually more ornately decorated and seemed to be in better condition than the former.
Afterwards we walked around the local area and noticed there were a few Jewish cafes and shops and other evidence of Jewish life. We had a little morning tea at the Korcarz deli on Rue de Rosiers and can highly recommend the poppyseed strudel next time you're in Paris!
Today is Yom Kippur, the highest holy day in the Jewish calendar. For Jews all over the world it is a day of fasting and deep self-contemplation, a day when we ask for forgiveness for any wrongdoing over the past year and ask G-d to look after us in the year ahead. Cookie and I wanted to observe this day despite being away from home, where one would normally attend the local synagogue and say appropriate prayers, including one called Yizkor for departed loved ones (parents, specifically). My cousin Linda in New York had told me that she once spent a Yom Kippur in Paris and had gone to Notre Dame and said Yizkor there. After seeing inside Notre Dame earlier this week, the idea of doing this struck me with such strong emotion that I decided it was the perfect location for Cookie and me. I don't know a lot of Jewish prayers off by heart so I did a bit of research last night and prepared something for us to recite. Now I have no idea whether it was the "right" thing for us to do, but it was certainly right for us. Although the prayer I put together was not exactly what would have been said in a synagogue, I didn't think that really mattered.
This morning, my darling girl and I sat in the very back row of the Notre Dame, huddled together, and whispered first the Kaddish (prayer for the dead), then Yizkor in Hebrew and English then (my favourite) the 23rd Psalm ("The L-rd is my shepherd..."). We were both quite teary and I am absolutely certain we will remember the event for the rest of our lives.
D1
Friday, 7 October 2011
Food, Tickets and Versailles
This morning began with meeting Cookie at 8:30am for breakfast at a nearby bar/cafe. These "institutions" are very common in Paris and are really warm, cosy places for people to meet for coffee, an alcoholic drink or a small meal. We have been into many and we always observe how good it would be if these existed at home in Melbourne. Individuals, couples and groups gather through the day to enjoy company and good food in a very relaxed atmosphere. We often see workers (some in suits, some in overalls) laughing and chatting together, while drinking a round of espresso, then moving on back to their jobs. The "bartender" is often part of their jolly conversation and it's clear that these guys are regulars, well-known to him.
A few days ago, after Cookie had arrived and we'd checked her into her hotel, we stopped at a bar for a snack because we were all famished. We asked for cheese and bread - this ended up being a basket of fresh, crusty baguette slices and sweet French butter for the table, with each of us being presented with our own plate of three cheese wedges. Together, we had nine completely different cheeses! The milky coffee and delicious food were virtually "inhaled" in double-quick time, before we stepped back out onto the street to continue our day.
Today for breakfast we ordered "The Continental". This comprised (for each of us) orange juice, a warm croissant, a huge wedge of fresh baguette, plenty of butter and a selection of jams, as well as coffee and hot chocolate. Delish. We then headed off to the train station to take the 40-minute ride out to see the Palace of Versailles, the well-known centre of French royal life from about 1680-something for about a century. The train takes you to a point about 5 minutes walk from the front door of the chateau, which is all well and good, but there the stress begins - you obviously have to buy tickets if you haven't done so already, and this means queueing in snake-like fashion, around and around inside a building which houses the ticket office. I volunteered to be "the one" today, who did the standing in line, secretly because it was quite cool and windy outside this morning and the ticket office was in a warm building. To be fair, I beckoned David and Cookie to come inside when I saw that the queue was long and realised that there were banks of cosy couches where people could wait for the poor unfortunates standing in line. Anyway, I shuffled slowly forward for about 15 minutes to a point where an usher was calling out that if one didn't want to wait any longer in line, we were welcome to use one of the many ticket machines in another room, to speed things up. Therein lies a dilemma, though. Should I give up my place in the line (I was about 25 people from the desk) on the chance that the machine room was actually going to expedite matters? Should I? Should I? Should I? Would YOU have? What if the machine broke down when I got in there and I wasn't able to complete the transaction and had to go back to the end of the queue? I wasn't within eye-view of Cookie and David so I couldn't whistle one of them over to save my spot, otherwise that would have been the simple solution. So I thought to myself, "Deb, you are SOOO not a risk-taker and you SOOO should be, sometimes" and so, filled with trepedation and with my heart beating way too fast, I left the comfort and security of my shuffling queue to go into the ticket-machine room. Guess what? Eight machines. Two took cash, six took credit cards (I had cash). There were already about 15 people waiting to use the machines. Three of the machines had broken down and had "Out of Order" signs on them. Do you think I was in a happy place? Do you think I was starting to wonder if I actually really wanted to see the Palace of Versailles?
OK, moving on - we then had to go through a security check. All very well, except that I knew I had put a super-sharp sabre-bladed knife in our bag because we were planning on having a picnic after our tour. I knew we would need a sharp knife to cut open the fresh baguette we were going to buy. We also had a plastic container of freshly-roasted chicken pieces, tiny baked baby potatoes, ripe red tomatoes, a bag of almonds, brazil nuts, fruit, a packet of cheese biscuits and a picnic cloth upon which to spread our bon repast. What can I tell you? I'm a Jewish mother - I need to feed my family! Anyway, I confessed that I had a knife in my bag ("Excuse-moi, monsieur - I have a knife in my bag!" sounded really good, until I explained further). I was fully-prepared to surrender the knife, if necessary, but it turned out not to be necessary. We just checked the bag into the baggage lockers and David glared menacingly at the guy who took it, warning him that he had counted the chicken pieces and they'd better all be there when we returned... nah, not really, but that would have made for a good story. The fact is that when you don't speak the local language, it's difficult to be funny with people in authority.
All of this serves merely as an introduction to saying that the palace was absolutely magnificent, lavishly rich and decadent in decoration and clearly a testament to a time in French history when no expense was spared in furnishing the homes of the nobility with the very best and most ostentatious extravagence. Volumes have probably been written about Versailles and I've included a couple of photos below, but I do want to say that the crowds were overwhelming, even now in the so-called "off" season, and they spoilt the experience. Enough said. Oh, and the picnic was delicious, thanks. David found us a lovely secluded park in the township, with lots of seats and well-guarded from the cool breeze; it was a great place to rest and collect ourselves before returning to Paris.
D1
A few days ago, after Cookie had arrived and we'd checked her into her hotel, we stopped at a bar for a snack because we were all famished. We asked for cheese and bread - this ended up being a basket of fresh, crusty baguette slices and sweet French butter for the table, with each of us being presented with our own plate of three cheese wedges. Together, we had nine completely different cheeses! The milky coffee and delicious food were virtually "inhaled" in double-quick time, before we stepped back out onto the street to continue our day.
Today for breakfast we ordered "The Continental". This comprised (for each of us) orange juice, a warm croissant, a huge wedge of fresh baguette, plenty of butter and a selection of jams, as well as coffee and hot chocolate. Delish. We then headed off to the train station to take the 40-minute ride out to see the Palace of Versailles, the well-known centre of French royal life from about 1680-something for about a century. The train takes you to a point about 5 minutes walk from the front door of the chateau, which is all well and good, but there the stress begins - you obviously have to buy tickets if you haven't done so already, and this means queueing in snake-like fashion, around and around inside a building which houses the ticket office. I volunteered to be "the one" today, who did the standing in line, secretly because it was quite cool and windy outside this morning and the ticket office was in a warm building. To be fair, I beckoned David and Cookie to come inside when I saw that the queue was long and realised that there were banks of cosy couches where people could wait for the poor unfortunates standing in line. Anyway, I shuffled slowly forward for about 15 minutes to a point where an usher was calling out that if one didn't want to wait any longer in line, we were welcome to use one of the many ticket machines in another room, to speed things up. Therein lies a dilemma, though. Should I give up my place in the line (I was about 25 people from the desk) on the chance that the machine room was actually going to expedite matters? Should I? Should I? Should I? Would YOU have? What if the machine broke down when I got in there and I wasn't able to complete the transaction and had to go back to the end of the queue? I wasn't within eye-view of Cookie and David so I couldn't whistle one of them over to save my spot, otherwise that would have been the simple solution. So I thought to myself, "Deb, you are SOOO not a risk-taker and you SOOO should be, sometimes" and so, filled with trepedation and with my heart beating way too fast, I left the comfort and security of my shuffling queue to go into the ticket-machine room. Guess what? Eight machines. Two took cash, six took credit cards (I had cash). There were already about 15 people waiting to use the machines. Three of the machines had broken down and had "Out of Order" signs on them. Do you think I was in a happy place? Do you think I was starting to wonder if I actually really wanted to see the Palace of Versailles?
OK, moving on - we then had to go through a security check. All very well, except that I knew I had put a super-sharp sabre-bladed knife in our bag because we were planning on having a picnic after our tour. I knew we would need a sharp knife to cut open the fresh baguette we were going to buy. We also had a plastic container of freshly-roasted chicken pieces, tiny baked baby potatoes, ripe red tomatoes, a bag of almonds, brazil nuts, fruit, a packet of cheese biscuits and a picnic cloth upon which to spread our bon repast. What can I tell you? I'm a Jewish mother - I need to feed my family! Anyway, I confessed that I had a knife in my bag ("Excuse-moi, monsieur - I have a knife in my bag!" sounded really good, until I explained further). I was fully-prepared to surrender the knife, if necessary, but it turned out not to be necessary. We just checked the bag into the baggage lockers and David glared menacingly at the guy who took it, warning him that he had counted the chicken pieces and they'd better all be there when we returned... nah, not really, but that would have made for a good story. The fact is that when you don't speak the local language, it's difficult to be funny with people in authority.
All of this serves merely as an introduction to saying that the palace was absolutely magnificent, lavishly rich and decadent in decoration and clearly a testament to a time in French history when no expense was spared in furnishing the homes of the nobility with the very best and most ostentatious extravagence. Volumes have probably been written about Versailles and I've included a couple of photos below, but I do want to say that the crowds were overwhelming, even now in the so-called "off" season, and they spoilt the experience. Enough said. Oh, and the picnic was delicious, thanks. David found us a lovely secluded park in the township, with lots of seats and well-guarded from the cool breeze; it was a great place to rest and collect ourselves before returning to Paris.
D1
Palais Garnier et La Tour Eiffel
A three-hour leave pass from shopping with the girls found me on the door step of the Palais Garnier (more commonly known as the Paris Opera), and for the first time a silent "wow" escaped my lips. This is truly a maginifent building where all the attention has been placed on the lavish interior. My only regret is that I was not prepared to pay the higher entry fee for the official tour which would have included the terraced balconies and the magnificent stage. Instead I chose the cheaper do-it-yourself tour for 9 euro, and whilst being overawed with what I saw, I can't help but feel that I missed a whole lot more.
With still an hour to go on my leave pass, and no desire to enter the throngs of people who were milling around the entrance to Galeries Lafayette, I strolled into Eglise de la Trinite and joined the lunchtime crowd who had sat down in this very old and run-down church to enjoy a free recital. A single violinist supported by a cellist performed for an hour, and the acoustics were amazing.
The early evening saw us navigating the Metro once again for a visit to La Tour Eiffel. This structure is always visible on the horizon during the day. I have seen it from the dome at the Pantheon, and I have seen it from the rooftop observatory cafe at Printemps, but to see it at night changes it from just being there to dominating the night sky. It is truly amazing and no real words can describe it. Also apparent was the very lengthy queue of visitors all lined up to purchase their tickets for the ride to the upper levels for the night-time view of Paris. We chose to stay on the ground, walked over to the Trocadero, and once again I revelled in the marvels of another Nutella and banana crepe - and once again I blame Cookie.
D2
With still an hour to go on my leave pass, and no desire to enter the throngs of people who were milling around the entrance to Galeries Lafayette, I strolled into Eglise de la Trinite and joined the lunchtime crowd who had sat down in this very old and run-down church to enjoy a free recital. A single violinist supported by a cellist performed for an hour, and the acoustics were amazing.
The early evening saw us navigating the Metro once again for a visit to La Tour Eiffel. This structure is always visible on the horizon during the day. I have seen it from the dome at the Pantheon, and I have seen it from the rooftop observatory cafe at Printemps, but to see it at night changes it from just being there to dominating the night sky. It is truly amazing and no real words can describe it. Also apparent was the very lengthy queue of visitors all lined up to purchase their tickets for the ride to the upper levels for the night-time view of Paris. We chose to stay on the ground, walked over to the Trocadero, and once again I revelled in the marvels of another Nutella and banana crepe - and once again I blame Cookie.
D2
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Madeleine, Montmarte (and Sacre Coeur)
On Tuesday, we caught the metro train to Madeleine station in order to have breakfast at Fauchon patisserie, a well-known and highly regarded location - although primarily a pastry shop it is also a delicatessen selling only the finest and highest quality smallgoods. When you come up to street level from the platform, there are actually two Fauchon stores in close proximity to one another, both very pretty in appearance, being glossy pink, black and gold. The pastries and coffee are probably not the best in Paris, but the experience of visiting the store takes away from any significance you might place on that issue. The intricacy of the cake decorations and the presentation of the food generally, is beyond comparison with anything I have seen elsewhere. Simply beautiful!
We walked from Fauchon down rue Tronchet, a wide tree-lined shopping boulevard which leads to the fabled Printemps and Galeries Lafayette department stores, although we purposely did not visit either of those on Monday, wanting to save the experience for a few days until Cookie joined us. The metro from there to Montmarte is quite direct and that was our next destination.
We have been very impressed with the metro system - it is easy to navigate, cheap to use and we have not yet had to wait more than 3 minutes for a train or a connection. Having said that, the stations are dirty and not pleasant places to spend time. I know that you're not supposed to spend a lot of time at railway stations, but you only have to go to a country like Japan, to Austria or to Singapore to discover that it's actually quite pleasant to be in some stations. Paris - not so.
Montmarte is quite a different area to the one where we are staying, in the Latin Quarter. It doesn't have the same feeling, being known most famously as the location of Moulin Rouge, cabaret and a focus of nightclub life in Paris. We have heard good stories and not-so-good stories about that area. Our impression was that we were glad to have chosen the Latin Quarter for our 8-day stay - it is more central, the restaurant and cafe choices are better, people walking about seem well-dressed and elegant and the tone of the area is brighter and more vibrant. It is unwise to form an opinion about a place without more evidence than a couple of hours spent there, but I think you do "get a feel" for where your comfort level lies and anyway people look for different things in their choice of location, and people feel differently according to their own experiences. It would be a difficult and boring world to live in, if we all liked the same things all of the time.
We took the funicular railway up to Sacre Coeur; the ride is great fun and conveniently, you can use a regular metro ticket to access the little train. Having eaten more pastries in the past few days than I have in the past few years, it's probably fair to say that I should have walked the couple of hundred steps up the hill to the monument, but let's not go there...
Sacre Coeur is very impressive and very beautiful; the view from the area across Paris is a bonus highlight. Paris rooftops are very different from Italian rooftops, the latter being mostly of terracotta and affording a different overall experience. Both are beautiful, just in different ways.
D1
We walked from Fauchon down rue Tronchet, a wide tree-lined shopping boulevard which leads to the fabled Printemps and Galeries Lafayette department stores, although we purposely did not visit either of those on Monday, wanting to save the experience for a few days until Cookie joined us. The metro from there to Montmarte is quite direct and that was our next destination.
We have been very impressed with the metro system - it is easy to navigate, cheap to use and we have not yet had to wait more than 3 minutes for a train or a connection. Having said that, the stations are dirty and not pleasant places to spend time. I know that you're not supposed to spend a lot of time at railway stations, but you only have to go to a country like Japan, to Austria or to Singapore to discover that it's actually quite pleasant to be in some stations. Paris - not so.
Montmarte is quite a different area to the one where we are staying, in the Latin Quarter. It doesn't have the same feeling, being known most famously as the location of Moulin Rouge, cabaret and a focus of nightclub life in Paris. We have heard good stories and not-so-good stories about that area. Our impression was that we were glad to have chosen the Latin Quarter for our 8-day stay - it is more central, the restaurant and cafe choices are better, people walking about seem well-dressed and elegant and the tone of the area is brighter and more vibrant. It is unwise to form an opinion about a place without more evidence than a couple of hours spent there, but I think you do "get a feel" for where your comfort level lies and anyway people look for different things in their choice of location, and people feel differently according to their own experiences. It would be a difficult and boring world to live in, if we all liked the same things all of the time.
We took the funicular railway up to Sacre Coeur; the ride is great fun and conveniently, you can use a regular metro ticket to access the little train. Having eaten more pastries in the past few days than I have in the past few years, it's probably fair to say that I should have walked the couple of hundred steps up the hill to the monument, but let's not go there...
Sacre Coeur is very impressive and very beautiful; the view from the area across Paris is a bonus highlight. Paris rooftops are very different from Italian rooftops, the latter being mostly of terracotta and affording a different overall experience. Both are beautiful, just in different ways.
D1
This blogging thing
It's very difficult, when all's said and done. I am already two days behind in the things I want to write about, but we've been so busy and in the evening before retiring for the night we are so tired that it's hard to summon the wherewithall (sp?) to sit and recount the day's adventures here. Suffice to say that if you are waiting with bated breath for the next instalment, please know that it will come, it just may not come in the next 12 hours or so because here we are with a brand new day about to begin and I haven't yet written about Montmarte, Madeleine, Sacre Couer and the arrival yesterday of our darling Cookie! In a way it would be good if the weather was AWFUL and we had no alternative but to sit indoors and write, but that isn't the case - we have been exceedingly lucky with the weather in that (despite lack of sunshine) we have had what I consider perfect "tourist weather" - the temperature has hovered around 20 degrees and it has been a bit overcast. Some of our photos show azure skies, but David tells me that's a bit of trick photography on his part and it sometimes depends on the angle at which the shots are taken.
I will write again later. I promise.
D1
I will write again later. I promise.
D1
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
Beggars and Bananas
You can't go anywhere here in Paris without being accosted by beggars. They come at you in the Metro - some simply asking for your loose change, others with scribbled messages on scrappy bits of cardboard, and yet another using the novel approach of playing the piano accordian for the benefit of the commuters. The beggars are also at any location where tourists assemble and they have a variety of scams to separate you from your money. Today we witnessed a well-meaning gentleman being spat on by several young women after he tried to halt their attempt to extract money from two women in Montmarte. C'est la vie!
The other thing that beggars belief is the price of bananas. I have seen them today for around 2 euros/kg - and these bananas come from places in South America and Africa, and the cost of getting them here must be considerable to say the least. And yet here they are in all their firmness, ripe and ready to eat. The real questions are - why can't we have some bananas from South America and Africa, and why are our own home-grown bananas so expensive (cyclone shortages aside)?
D2
The other thing that beggars belief is the price of bananas. I have seen them today for around 2 euros/kg - and these bananas come from places in South America and Africa, and the cost of getting them here must be considerable to say the least. And yet here they are in all their firmness, ripe and ready to eat. The real questions are - why can't we have some bananas from South America and Africa, and why are our own home-grown bananas so expensive (cyclone shortages aside)?
D2
How To
If anyone knows how to fit Paris into 8 days, I wish they would tell me. It's probably impossible. What a city!
Yesterday we headed out on the serious part of the visit, which oddly enough (for me) is not primarily about eating as much French pastry as I can manage in the given time, but in fact to see the sights I have heard and read about, while drinking coffee and eating as much French pastry as I can manage...
The Pantheon is at the end of our street, just 250 metres around the corner from our apartment and rises up in all its elegant magnificence to welcome locals and wayfarers alike. I think we chose a good time of year to make our trip - the crowds are not bad at all, and queueing everywhere is minimal. As far as the Pantheon goes, there's no problem in that regard - walk straight in and start being overawed immediately. It is difficult to find the right words to encompass the feeling you get when you visit these ancient sites, and I am already thinking ahead to how on earth I am going to write about Notre Dame, in this post. You will just have to come and see it all for yourself and use this blog as a list of MUST SEE items. Sorry, that's the best I can come up with - perhaps David will do better when he posts next.
After the Pantheon we visited the church of St Etienne - another one of the many churches in Europe which appear "ordinary" from the outside, but once you're through the doors, are simply jaw-droppingly beautiful. Not every church is like that, of course, and Notre Dame Cathedral is obviously at the opposite end of the scale in that regard, but we have seen dozens of churches in Italy and now some in Paris which fall into that category.
Then on to Notre Dame - we had seen it on the first night, lying solidly luminous on the bank of the Seine, and knew of course from literature, television documentaries and so on, that we were in for a treat. We intentionally rose early to be through its doors at the opening time of 7:45am, wanting to enjoy it before others spoilt the experience. To say that the initial sight when I entered, brought me to tears, is not a lie - those who know me well enough are already aware that I'm a cry-baby for less of a good reason than the spectacle of Notre Dame. I don't know what to say now, to adequately describe how it made me feel. It is truly overwhelming.
On to the Louvre, then. We decided that when Cookie arrives, she and I will actually go inside and see the artwork, but in the meantime David and I walked around the grounds - and what grounds! I had no idea of the immensity of the building, which apparently comprises some 60,000 square metres - the grounds are larger than that, and I truly have no clue how we will be able to see even a fraction of the artwork stored within. The museum is MASSIVE, and stating its size in square metres does not really give a true perspective. Does it help create a visual to say that the MCG oval is 25,000 square metres? The photo below shows one small section of it.
We continued our walk on to the famous Champs Elysees, a very wide long road, flanked on both sides by shops selling only the highest quality goods and designer labels. We only window-shopped while we strolled and it was hard to take it all in; your senses are assaulted by the beautiful window displays but I really wasn't interested in going in to shops only to discover the prices of items were prohibitive and I would have to (possibly) deal with shop assistants who didn't consider me worthy of crossing their thresholds. David and I agreed that the Champs Elysees is actually a bit boring, but it does lead to the Arc de Triomphe, and that is where we were headed.
The Arc de Triomphe is a majestic structure which stands to celebrate the legions of French men and women who have died in various wars for the glory of France. It is also typical of every other public space in Paris with an elevation more than three metres above street level - if you want to see the view, you have to pay, and that really sucks.
The use of the only public toilet on the Champs Elysees (two euros, but it was nothing short of splendid), then a chicken-filled baguette while sitting in the nearby park watching a group of well-dressed local gentlemen playing boules, was followed by the decision to move on.
At this point we succumbed to age and tiredness and caught the Metro to our next destination at Invalides, a vast establishment originally used as a hospital for returned servicemen, but which is now a miltary museum and the location of Napoleon's tomb. Again there is the temptation to pay money for an elevated view of Paris, and again we kept our hands in our pockets, did a brisk about-face and headed back to the comfort of our small apartment for a refreshing nap and a cup of tea.
Refreshed and renewed, we headed out into the depths of the Latin Quarter in search of a restaurant named La Papillion, only to discover that it was not open, and it did not look like it was going to open anytime soon. Drinks at a bar instead, followed by dinner at one of the all too numerous eating establshments that line every street, with tables and chairs all turned to face the street to allow the diners to engage in the main pastime of people-watching. Food OK - experience fantastic. I had warm chicken livers with caramelised onions, then the vegetarian choice which turned out to be a piquant potato dish with salad, before the dessert, which was an apple tarte tatin. All of this splendour for the very meagre sum of 15 euros, which was outstanding value, I thought, despite perhaps not falling into the category of food "fit for a king". I don't think I've had a 3-course meal in Melbourne for years and I was consequently as full as can be and vowed (as one does) not to eat AT ALL for the next 24 hours. Pfffft....! As if!
D1
Yesterday we headed out on the serious part of the visit, which oddly enough (for me) is not primarily about eating as much French pastry as I can manage in the given time, but in fact to see the sights I have heard and read about, while drinking coffee and eating as much French pastry as I can manage...
The Pantheon is at the end of our street, just 250 metres around the corner from our apartment and rises up in all its elegant magnificence to welcome locals and wayfarers alike. I think we chose a good time of year to make our trip - the crowds are not bad at all, and queueing everywhere is minimal. As far as the Pantheon goes, there's no problem in that regard - walk straight in and start being overawed immediately. It is difficult to find the right words to encompass the feeling you get when you visit these ancient sites, and I am already thinking ahead to how on earth I am going to write about Notre Dame, in this post. You will just have to come and see it all for yourself and use this blog as a list of MUST SEE items. Sorry, that's the best I can come up with - perhaps David will do better when he posts next.
After the Pantheon we visited the church of St Etienne - another one of the many churches in Europe which appear "ordinary" from the outside, but once you're through the doors, are simply jaw-droppingly beautiful. Not every church is like that, of course, and Notre Dame Cathedral is obviously at the opposite end of the scale in that regard, but we have seen dozens of churches in Italy and now some in Paris which fall into that category.
Then on to Notre Dame - we had seen it on the first night, lying solidly luminous on the bank of the Seine, and knew of course from literature, television documentaries and so on, that we were in for a treat. We intentionally rose early to be through its doors at the opening time of 7:45am, wanting to enjoy it before others spoilt the experience. To say that the initial sight when I entered, brought me to tears, is not a lie - those who know me well enough are already aware that I'm a cry-baby for less of a good reason than the spectacle of Notre Dame. I don't know what to say now, to adequately describe how it made me feel. It is truly overwhelming.
On to the Louvre, then. We decided that when Cookie arrives, she and I will actually go inside and see the artwork, but in the meantime David and I walked around the grounds - and what grounds! I had no idea of the immensity of the building, which apparently comprises some 60,000 square metres - the grounds are larger than that, and I truly have no clue how we will be able to see even a fraction of the artwork stored within. The museum is MASSIVE, and stating its size in square metres does not really give a true perspective. Does it help create a visual to say that the MCG oval is 25,000 square metres? The photo below shows one small section of it.
We continued our walk on to the famous Champs Elysees, a very wide long road, flanked on both sides by shops selling only the highest quality goods and designer labels. We only window-shopped while we strolled and it was hard to take it all in; your senses are assaulted by the beautiful window displays but I really wasn't interested in going in to shops only to discover the prices of items were prohibitive and I would have to (possibly) deal with shop assistants who didn't consider me worthy of crossing their thresholds. David and I agreed that the Champs Elysees is actually a bit boring, but it does lead to the Arc de Triomphe, and that is where we were headed.
The Arc de Triomphe is a majestic structure which stands to celebrate the legions of French men and women who have died in various wars for the glory of France. It is also typical of every other public space in Paris with an elevation more than three metres above street level - if you want to see the view, you have to pay, and that really sucks.
The use of the only public toilet on the Champs Elysees (two euros, but it was nothing short of splendid), then a chicken-filled baguette while sitting in the nearby park watching a group of well-dressed local gentlemen playing boules, was followed by the decision to move on.
At this point we succumbed to age and tiredness and caught the Metro to our next destination at Invalides, a vast establishment originally used as a hospital for returned servicemen, but which is now a miltary museum and the location of Napoleon's tomb. Again there is the temptation to pay money for an elevated view of Paris, and again we kept our hands in our pockets, did a brisk about-face and headed back to the comfort of our small apartment for a refreshing nap and a cup of tea.
Refreshed and renewed, we headed out into the depths of the Latin Quarter in search of a restaurant named La Papillion, only to discover that it was not open, and it did not look like it was going to open anytime soon. Drinks at a bar instead, followed by dinner at one of the all too numerous eating establshments that line every street, with tables and chairs all turned to face the street to allow the diners to engage in the main pastime of people-watching. Food OK - experience fantastic. I had warm chicken livers with caramelised onions, then the vegetarian choice which turned out to be a piquant potato dish with salad, before the dessert, which was an apple tarte tatin. All of this splendour for the very meagre sum of 15 euros, which was outstanding value, I thought, despite perhaps not falling into the category of food "fit for a king". I don't think I've had a 3-course meal in Melbourne for years and I was consequently as full as can be and vowed (as one does) not to eat AT ALL for the next 24 hours. Pfffft....! As if!
D1
Sunday, 2 October 2011
The Sounds of Paris
It's 3 o'clock on day 1 of our stay in Paris, and we are having a little lie down after the initial survey of the St Germaine neighbourhood, and a stroll along the River Seine past the stunning Notre Dame Cathedral. We had been here just half an hour before we felt the need to go into a cafe, sit at the bar and eat freshly buttered baguette and drink excellent coffee. The owner smiled kindly at Deb's attempt at ordering in French, (though of course he spoke English), but with a big grin he generously commented on how well she had done!
Through the open shuttered windows here in the flat there are the sounds of people sitting at the numerous open air restaurants that line our small street, the echo of the church bell at the top of the hill has just sounded, and everywhere there are the sounds of Parisians enjoying a perfect Autumn day. It's probably about 22 degrees - just right!
We arrived into Paris after a 13 hour flight from Singapore, and you can't help but notice the difference in how things work. Changi airport was the model of efficiency, whereas CDG is tired, dirty and everything takes forever. The only highlight was that Jean-Paul (the taxi driver) was waiting for us at the appointed place and was only too eager to please. The check -in at the apartment went smoothly and we can now settle in to our incredibly (and typically so in Paris) small but very cute home away from home for the next 8 days. We have everything we need here and are eagerly awaiting Cookie's arrival on Wednesday to share it with her.
D2 (David)
Through the open shuttered windows here in the flat there are the sounds of people sitting at the numerous open air restaurants that line our small street, the echo of the church bell at the top of the hill has just sounded, and everywhere there are the sounds of Parisians enjoying a perfect Autumn day. It's probably about 22 degrees - just right!
We arrived into Paris after a 13 hour flight from Singapore, and you can't help but notice the difference in how things work. Changi airport was the model of efficiency, whereas CDG is tired, dirty and everything takes forever. The only highlight was that Jean-Paul (the taxi driver) was waiting for us at the appointed place and was only too eager to please. The check -in at the apartment went smoothly and we can now settle in to our incredibly (and typically so in Paris) small but very cute home away from home for the next 8 days. We have everything we need here and are eagerly awaiting Cookie's arrival on Wednesday to share it with her.
D2 (David)
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