Bonjour Family and Friends!
We started our day in the usual way at the Patissiere just across the way. Today we lolly gagged there quite awhile while choosing how to spend the day in Paris. Once we finally left our little table, we walked over to the metro station Maubert-Mutualite and hopped on the train with the plan of disembarking at the Champs Élysées stop (after only changing trains once). When we came up from the tunnel into daylight, it was pouring rain once again. It was a good thing we had packed our umbrellas. With umbrellas open, we sloshed through the water to the Petit Palais on the De la Ville de Paris, between the Champs Élysées and the River Seine. The Petit Palais is across from the Grand Palais and both structures were built for the Universal Exposition of 1900.
The Petit Palais now houses the City of Paris Museum of Fine Arts. It displays an amazing collection of paintings and sculptures, pottery and jewellery. There were works by artists we love such as Rembrandt, Ruebens, Delacroix, Monet, Pisaro, Sisley, Cezanne, Modiggliani and Rodin. There were also works by lots of artists we had never heard of. It is fascinating to look at art that depicts life back in the 1600's. There were so many, beautiful and very touching paintings of people in all kinds of situations in life. I took quite a few pictures of some of these works. One picture was of a destitute little boy from the 1700's who had fallen asleep in a dark, corner of a street. As well, there was a beautiful picture of a woman in a black dress with a large hat, which was called "Parisian Life".
We left the museum and walked across the Pont Alexandre III (bridge). This bridge is a stunning work of art in itself. It is the most ornate bridge in Paris. You see lots of gold and bronze sculptures. There are beautiful, large lanterns all across. It is also interesting to note that the bridge was designed by Gustave Eiffel. All along the bridge, are different sculptures including the nymphs of the Seine. This bridge is featured in "Midnight in Paris", as well as the James Bond movie, "A View To A Kill". Also, if you are an "Adele" fan, and love the song, "Someone Like You," you'll see the music video was filmed on this bridge.
We walked along Boulevard Des Invalides on our way to Musee Rodin on 79 Rue de Varenne but on the way we stopped at Cafe Du Musee Brassiere, which was very close to Musee Rodin.
At the cafe, I tried the Croquet Monsieur sandwich, which was fattening, but delicious and Ron had a chicken salad and we decided to share everything. Though we liked the food, we didn't especially care for the cafe, as it seems to have become a place where the customer, especially the English-speaking ones, are not appreciated. We felt the waiters were unfriendly, and it's really the first time, that we've really noticed this. Even if you try to do all the right things like say "Bonjour Monsieur" before you order anything, or "sil vous plait" (if you please) after you do put in your order, and "Merci", when the food is brought to your table, you just can't please some waiters. Maybe it's because the gratuity is already included in the menu price. This really gives the waiters the upper hand because it can lessen their incentive to behave properly. If you are happy with the service then do what the French do - leave some change on the table and depart with a smile and an "Au Revoir Monsieur!".
But happily, we shook off our cranky waiter, and walked into the loveliness of the Rodin Museum, which apparently has been open since 1919. Before we saw his glorious sculptures in the marble gallery, we walked through an extensive, lush garden filled with roses of all different colours. I noticed an Asian girl taking and re-taking pictures of herself over and over again, amongst the roses. In this garden we saw many of Rodins' large, bronze sculptures including his most well known and famous one - "The Thinker", which was wonderful to finally see, as both Ron and I have wanted to see this since we learned about it while sitting together in Art History (when we were 18 and 19).
But, even more stunning was the marble gallery which had an extensive collection of white sculptures. These works could not help but capture you. You had the greatest impulse to touch the marble which looked like silk, but of course this was not allowed.
Rodin was able to extract human emotions and display them in marble. This was said of Rodin in an article on line, "His genius was to express inner truths of the human psyche, and his gaze penetrated beneath the external appearance of the world. Exploring this realm beneath the surface, Rodin developed an agile technique for rendering the extreme physical states that correspond to expressions of inner turmoil or overwhelming joy. He sculpted a universe of great passion and tragedy, a world of imagination that exceeded the mundane reality of everyday existence." That really tells it about this collection exactly as you see it. The figures emerge from the block of white marble, but part of the figure is still in the marble. The most glorious and captivating sculpture is "The Kiss". If you have never seen this, please look it up because it is so beautiful.
Other works have names like, The Secret, The Hands of Lovers, Day and Night, Despair, The Convalescent, Psyche and Cupid - just to name a few. Another one is called "Winter" and it is represented by an old, withered woman, who is long past her prime.
When we left the museum, we walked along Rue St. Dominique, and saw the Tourville cafe was just ahead, so we stopped in to celebrate Auguste Rodin, and the beauty of his life and works, with a glass of rosé wine from Provence. We could see the Eiffel Tower while sitting there admiring the sights all around, which isn't hard to do in Paris - because there is always something interesting to look at. One mystery remains which I don't think there is an answer for. Why do Parisians wear big scarves in the summer? You and I would peel the scarf off, because we would perish of heat stroke if otherwise, but not the Parisians. No way. That scarf will never come off.
We left the cafe, and walked by the Lavirotte Building on 29 Rue Rapp to see one of the coolest examples of Art Nouveau architecture. The whole facade of the building was flamboyant to say the least, but the exquisite doorway into the building is what really captured our attention. And if you turned around, there was the Eiffel Tower! Just a note about art nouveau - it is a decorative style of art that was really popular between 1890 and 1910.
Over the last several days, as we've walked around the Paris streets we have seen different stages being set up for tomorrows' 'Fete de la Musique' (which means "Make Music")the biggest music celebration on the longest day of the year in Paris. The festival originated in Paris in 1982 and is now celebrated world wide. There will be musicians at every turn playing everything from classical, to rock, to jazz. Alex, our landlord, said that it will be loud around the city and that the celebration would go long into the night. Ron was happy about this, and even happier when he found a festival program laying on a park bench.
Lastly today, before we again limped into the apartment, we walked down Rue De L'Universite in the 7er (arrondissement) and paused at the big blue doors with the Number 81 just in the upper right corner. One level of this apartment building was the home of Paul and Julia Child for a few years when they first came to Paris in the late 1940's. If you read "My Life In France", you can't help but stand at this doorway and try to imagine what it must have been like when Julia moved to Paris with her husband, and wondered what she might do to keep herself occupied. Not only did she learn French, but she got interested in cooking, went to Cordon Bleu cooking school and the rest is just amazing history...
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Wednesday, 19 June 2013
E. Dehilleron Cookware, Le Palais Garnier Opera House, and Christian Dior
Bonjour Friends and Family!
Since we liked the Boulanger-Patissiere called Salon de The, we went back there again this morning to think about the day ahead. While thinking, we ordered our favourite things - Chausson aux pommes (flakey apple pastries and cafe au lait). The beauty about having been to Paris on a few occasions, is that you can see different things each time, or maybe return to places that you never did get enough of the first time.
We took our time and sat observing Parisian morning life in this busy area of the city. We saw a father emerge from a door in an apartment, with a child and off they went. A business man in a nice black suit drove by on a bicycle. Delivery trucks rushed by with their orders. Mothers walked by pushing strollers. Life really is the same everywhere when you think about it.
When we left the cafe, we walked over to Eglise Saint Severin which is situated on a street in the Latin Quarter called Rue Saint Severin, just a stones throw from us. At the entrance to the cathedral, there was a large gypsy woman sitting on the ground, who banged her plastic cup several times as we came up the steps to the door. Because this church was so close to us, and being one of the oldest churches in Paris of classic gothic architecture, we decided we didn't want to miss it. Inside the church is an interesting pillar in the shape of a palm tree. Apparently Saint Severin was a hermit who died in 555 and the church was built on top of his grave. I'm not sure what good works Saint Severin actually did, being a hermit and everything.
We left Saint Severin, and could hear the beautiful majestic bells of Notre Dame cathedral ringing as we walked over the Pont Neuf (bridge) down Rue De Louvre in the direction of the famed E. Dehillerin on the corner of Rue du Jour and 18-20 rue Coquilliere. E. Dehillerin is a cookware shop which has been selling cookware for professional and home chefs since 1820. It is very cluttered, crowded, and full of copper pots, knives of all kinds, etc. When you walk in, you get the feeling things have not changed much here since the store first opened at this location in 1880. There are a couple of pictures of Julia Child nailed onto a beam behind the cash register, but you'd miss them if you were not aware that she did lots of shopping here even up to her death in 2004. It was a fun and exciting to come to this store and squeeze past other people while trying to look at the selection of knives, and other interesting tools, all designed to make one's life easier in the kitchen. I found this a refreshing experience, as I will be back at Crate & Barrel soon enough at home.
When we left the cooking store, we saw another incredible, gothic looking cathedral called Eglise Saint Eustache, and decided to go have a look. This one was built around 1532. We discovered some amazing history here. Louis XIV received communion here as a young child, and apparently Mozart chose this cathedral as the place for the funeral of his mother. As well, we saw paintings by Ruebens on the walls.
When we left the church, we saw that we were right around the corner from Rue Montorgueil, which I had heard we shouldn't miss, especially at Christmas (when we won't be here). It was a street bustling with activity and there were lots of shops and small cafes. We noticed there seemed to be a lot of Italian cuisine around. We were enticed into Caldo-Freddo at 34 Rue Montorgueil because a girl was standing out on the street handing out samples to people passing by. While we enjoyed our Basica-margherita-mozzarella pizza, a girl sat next to us smoking. I asked her about the strawberry odor from the smoke. She explained that the odor was coming from a device (which looked like a Bic pen) called a a "clopinette" which is an electronic cigarette. She said that some people called them "e-cigarettes," and that a clopinette is like a personal vaporizer which is an electronic inhaler that vaporises a liquid solution into an aerosol mist. "It makes you feel like you are smoking tobacco". She said she enjoyed it, and was not trying to quit smoking. I smiled and wished to myself she would lose her "clopinette" somewhere.
When we left Caldo-Freddo, Ron informed me that he wanted to see Le Palais Garnier, or Opera Garnier at 8 Rue Scribe. I was a bit surprised by this, but agreed to go. It is a theatre which houses the Paris Opera, and is one of the most famous opera houses in the world. It was the setting for the "Phantom of the Opera". We were able to tour this opera house which was founded in 1669. It was a breathtaking structure, full of the most elegant, sculptures and paintings. You could see the stage where the operas took place. The opera house is now used primarily for the Paris Opera Ballet.
After this, we walked over to the Ritz hotel, where the whole front entrance is under construction. I saw a Christian Dior store across Place Vendome, and went to see if one of my favourite perfumes might be there. There were two men dressed in black suits who stood at the entrance of this exquisite store. They opened the door for me, even though I would have rather opened it myself, and said, " Bonjour Madame", in a very respectful manner, even though they could see I looked like a wreck, and that my hair was all messed up from the wind. I inquired if they sold perfume, because all I could see was sparkling watches and jewellery behind glass counters, and rich looking ladies sitting around. "No perfume here", I was told. I left, having to walk bravely past those men in black suits again. So, Ron and I walked past Chanel, but I didn't go in to the store this time, as I had seen the exquisite staircase on 31 Rue Cambon once before. Besides, I didn't want to walk past any more nice looking men in black suits.
I am happy to report that I did find another Christian Dior store just a little ways down the block, and was able to get my perfume.
We started on our way back, but stopped first at a non-descriptive Cafe on Rue De Saussaies. We sat for a glass of rose and to give our aching feet a break. Right next to us, was a large man smoking a cigar the size of a cucumber. He puffed away, while I coughed and choked right beside him. On our way to the Metro station near the Champs Élysées we got caught in a torrential downpour. There was wind and heavy rain. People were screaming and running for shelter. The Hop-on-Hop-off tour bus drove by. People on the upper level were not enjoying themselves. Sharing one umbrella, we ran to the Metro and it was crowded with people inside waiting out the rain.
Finally we limped wearily to our building and climbed the four flights of stairs to our apartment, and Ron made a nice salad for us, and it was accompanied by a crusty baguette. We sat quietly at our table with the big windows opened in front of us and looked out just across the way to the beautiful apartment with the ornate wrought iron surrounding the balconies.
After a proper rest, we went for an evening stroll down Rue de la Huchette, St. Germain. We came across a supplier of the famed Bertillon glacé and sorbets on Rue Buci. I tried the chocolate noir with a raspberry scoop added, Ron had his favourite pistachio. We started back and it was sprinkling when we cut through Cour Du Commerce Saint-Andre where the cobblestone is very worn and where the elegant Le Cafe Procope founded in 1686 is still serving its cuisine with old Parisian charm. If the walls in this cafe could tell you stories, it would say that people like Benjamin Franklin, Voltaire, Thomas Jefferson and Napoleon Bonaparte were here...
Since we liked the Boulanger-Patissiere called Salon de The, we went back there again this morning to think about the day ahead. While thinking, we ordered our favourite things - Chausson aux pommes (flakey apple pastries and cafe au lait). The beauty about having been to Paris on a few occasions, is that you can see different things each time, or maybe return to places that you never did get enough of the first time.
We took our time and sat observing Parisian morning life in this busy area of the city. We saw a father emerge from a door in an apartment, with a child and off they went. A business man in a nice black suit drove by on a bicycle. Delivery trucks rushed by with their orders. Mothers walked by pushing strollers. Life really is the same everywhere when you think about it.
When we left the cafe, we walked over to Eglise Saint Severin which is situated on a street in the Latin Quarter called Rue Saint Severin, just a stones throw from us. At the entrance to the cathedral, there was a large gypsy woman sitting on the ground, who banged her plastic cup several times as we came up the steps to the door. Because this church was so close to us, and being one of the oldest churches in Paris of classic gothic architecture, we decided we didn't want to miss it. Inside the church is an interesting pillar in the shape of a palm tree. Apparently Saint Severin was a hermit who died in 555 and the church was built on top of his grave. I'm not sure what good works Saint Severin actually did, being a hermit and everything.
We left Saint Severin, and could hear the beautiful majestic bells of Notre Dame cathedral ringing as we walked over the Pont Neuf (bridge) down Rue De Louvre in the direction of the famed E. Dehillerin on the corner of Rue du Jour and 18-20 rue Coquilliere. E. Dehillerin is a cookware shop which has been selling cookware for professional and home chefs since 1820. It is very cluttered, crowded, and full of copper pots, knives of all kinds, etc. When you walk in, you get the feeling things have not changed much here since the store first opened at this location in 1880. There are a couple of pictures of Julia Child nailed onto a beam behind the cash register, but you'd miss them if you were not aware that she did lots of shopping here even up to her death in 2004. It was a fun and exciting to come to this store and squeeze past other people while trying to look at the selection of knives, and other interesting tools, all designed to make one's life easier in the kitchen. I found this a refreshing experience, as I will be back at Crate & Barrel soon enough at home.
When we left the cooking store, we saw another incredible, gothic looking cathedral called Eglise Saint Eustache, and decided to go have a look. This one was built around 1532. We discovered some amazing history here. Louis XIV received communion here as a young child, and apparently Mozart chose this cathedral as the place for the funeral of his mother. As well, we saw paintings by Ruebens on the walls.
When we left the church, we saw that we were right around the corner from Rue Montorgueil, which I had heard we shouldn't miss, especially at Christmas (when we won't be here). It was a street bustling with activity and there were lots of shops and small cafes. We noticed there seemed to be a lot of Italian cuisine around. We were enticed into Caldo-Freddo at 34 Rue Montorgueil because a girl was standing out on the street handing out samples to people passing by. While we enjoyed our Basica-margherita-mozzarella pizza, a girl sat next to us smoking. I asked her about the strawberry odor from the smoke. She explained that the odor was coming from a device (which looked like a Bic pen) called a a "clopinette" which is an electronic cigarette. She said that some people called them "e-cigarettes," and that a clopinette is like a personal vaporizer which is an electronic inhaler that vaporises a liquid solution into an aerosol mist. "It makes you feel like you are smoking tobacco". She said she enjoyed it, and was not trying to quit smoking. I smiled and wished to myself she would lose her "clopinette" somewhere.
When we left Caldo-Freddo, Ron informed me that he wanted to see Le Palais Garnier, or Opera Garnier at 8 Rue Scribe. I was a bit surprised by this, but agreed to go. It is a theatre which houses the Paris Opera, and is one of the most famous opera houses in the world. It was the setting for the "Phantom of the Opera". We were able to tour this opera house which was founded in 1669. It was a breathtaking structure, full of the most elegant, sculptures and paintings. You could see the stage where the operas took place. The opera house is now used primarily for the Paris Opera Ballet.
After this, we walked over to the Ritz hotel, where the whole front entrance is under construction. I saw a Christian Dior store across Place Vendome, and went to see if one of my favourite perfumes might be there. There were two men dressed in black suits who stood at the entrance of this exquisite store. They opened the door for me, even though I would have rather opened it myself, and said, " Bonjour Madame", in a very respectful manner, even though they could see I looked like a wreck, and that my hair was all messed up from the wind. I inquired if they sold perfume, because all I could see was sparkling watches and jewellery behind glass counters, and rich looking ladies sitting around. "No perfume here", I was told. I left, having to walk bravely past those men in black suits again. So, Ron and I walked past Chanel, but I didn't go in to the store this time, as I had seen the exquisite staircase on 31 Rue Cambon once before. Besides, I didn't want to walk past any more nice looking men in black suits.
I am happy to report that I did find another Christian Dior store just a little ways down the block, and was able to get my perfume.
We started on our way back, but stopped first at a non-descriptive Cafe on Rue De Saussaies. We sat for a glass of rose and to give our aching feet a break. Right next to us, was a large man smoking a cigar the size of a cucumber. He puffed away, while I coughed and choked right beside him. On our way to the Metro station near the Champs Élysées we got caught in a torrential downpour. There was wind and heavy rain. People were screaming and running for shelter. The Hop-on-Hop-off tour bus drove by. People on the upper level were not enjoying themselves. Sharing one umbrella, we ran to the Metro and it was crowded with people inside waiting out the rain.
Finally we limped wearily to our building and climbed the four flights of stairs to our apartment, and Ron made a nice salad for us, and it was accompanied by a crusty baguette. We sat quietly at our table with the big windows opened in front of us and looked out just across the way to the beautiful apartment with the ornate wrought iron surrounding the balconies.
After a proper rest, we went for an evening stroll down Rue de la Huchette, St. Germain. We came across a supplier of the famed Bertillon glacé and sorbets on Rue Buci. I tried the chocolate noir with a raspberry scoop added, Ron had his favourite pistachio. We started back and it was sprinkling when we cut through Cour Du Commerce Saint-Andre where the cobblestone is very worn and where the elegant Le Cafe Procope founded in 1686 is still serving its cuisine with old Parisian charm. If the walls in this cafe could tell you stories, it would say that people like Benjamin Franklin, Voltaire, Thomas Jefferson and Napoleon Bonaparte were here...
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
St. Sulpice, The Smoking Dog, and The Eiffel Tower
Bonjour Family and Friends!
Today we went across a tiny street to a patisserie - boulanger called Cafe Salon de The (pronounced "Tay"). Alex - the person who rented this apartment to us, advised that the baker at this patisserie was "starting to get better," as apparently there had been some complaints. We ordered two coffees and two flakey, buttery pastries filled with warm puréed apple, which were delectable. No complaints from us.
From there we walked over to the market on Boulevard St. Germain to see if there was anything new. There was the usual lovely fruits and vegetables, piles of different types of olives, sausages, cheeses and other things like scarves, jewellery and clothing.
From there we wandered over to the Fountaine Saint-Michel in Place Saint-Michel in the 5th arrondissement. (I should mention that the city of Paris is divided into twenty arrondissements, or districts). It is a very large monument of the Archangel Michael treading on a dragon, carrying a banner and sword. There are two dragons on the lower level, each spewing water from their mouths. While we were standing and looking at the monument, a gold ring dropped on the ground in front of us. The person then picked it up and asked me if the ring belonged to me. I said, "No", and then he offered to sell it to me. I waved him off, finding it hard to believe that anyone could fall for this silly scam.
From there we walked over to L'Eglise St. Sulpice on Place St. Sulpice to see another historic cathedral in which construction began in 1646. Apparently the Marquis de Sade was christened in this church, but if you know anything about him, you know that he grew up into a nasty, depraved individual. On a more interesting note, Victor Hugo was married here. Apparently the organ in this church is one of the world's largest, with 6,588 pipes. As well, everyone knows that St. Sulpice played an important role in the book, "The Da Vinci Code". I think I might re-read this when I get home. One very spectacular thing I should mention, is that you could watch a video in the church, of people being baptized in water. The water came pouring over their heads in slow motion, splashing down their faces. It was absolutely stunning to watch. (There is even a website for this called Baptism@benjaminb.com.)
We left St. Sulpice and stopped at the very old cafe of Les Deux Magots (which means "two figurines from China"), in the Saint-Germain-des-Pres area in the 6th arrondissement. It's famous, because at one time it was a rendezvous area for the literary and intellectuals of the city. (Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, James Joyce and others). The cafe once belonged to a fabric and novelty shop on the same site, that turned into a cafe. If you go in the doors of the cafe, and don't mind feeling a twinge of embarrassment for a few moments, you can get a photograph of two large magot (Chinese salesman) statues who keep watch over all the people who might be sitting around and philosophizing.
After this, we carried on and walked across the Pont Neuf Bridge which spans over the Seine. This brought us into the 1st arrondissement, just south of Rue Montorgueil. The Pont Neuf is the oldest bridge on which construction began in 1578. The reason we went over the Pont Neuf was to go to 'Le Chien qui Fume' (The Smoking Dog) Bistro for lunch, which dates to 1740. The address is 33, Rue du Pont Neuf, in case anyone is interested. Apparently a lot of the farmers who brought their fruits and vegetables to the old market of Les Halles from surrounding farms, would stay and eat in this Inn,(now a cafe. Eventually the area around the Inn evolved into a red light district, because Les Halles market never slept.
We were happy with our lunch there, and it was fun to see this beautiful, old bistro. If only walls could talk! I tried the parma tagliatelle and Ron had the salmon tagliatelle, and we both found the cafe interesting. There were lots of old pictures on the wall of the old Les Halles market.
I found out about The Smoking Dog bistro when I learned about the old market system of Paris called Les Halles. For 800 years this market was the centre of food distribution in Paris, and it was called, "The Belly of Paris" by Emile Zola. The market was a shelter for merchants who came from all over to sell their products. Vegetables were sold during the day, but it was at night that the fish and meat vendors went into full swing. Thousands of tons of meat were bought, butchered, traded and sold. This market was also a meeting place for the citizens of Paris. Naughty things also took place at the market, where prostitutes found favour with many of the robust butchers and meat carriers. To the north of the market was rue Saint Denis known for its "slimmer prostitutes".
There was a Parisian photographer named Robert Doisneau who captured Les Halles as it was, in some of his famous photographs. Last spring,there was a display of his many of his famous photographs. (I nearly cried myself to sleep when I discovered this).
Sadly, the success of Les Halles was its own undoing. The traffic started to become a serious problem, and the site was destroyed in 1971. Now, there is an underground mall there, and a lot of building and construction taking place over the old market site. The market was re-located to the suburb of Rungis, which I didn't find myself that interested in.
It was said that when the food market was moved out of Les Halles, Paris was eviscerated. How I wish I could have seen this glorious market!
After walking around the area in stifling heat and humidity, we headed back to the cool apartment for a break.
We sat around for awhile looking out the apartment windows and listening to life out on the streets. After sharing a baguette and cheese and some fruit in the late afternoon, we headed out on the metro in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. We got off at the Trocadero stop and walked to Trocadero Square. We sat on a stone ledge where there was an excellent view of the fountain canons shooting out water. Just beyond the fountains, the Eiffel Tower could be clearly seen.
When we got to the tower, we could see there was construction going on and some fencing in the square. You couldn't stand directly under the centre and look up. But nothing stopped the large groups of people who were happy to be so near to this amazing structure.
We sat on the grass amongst many other people looking at the Eiffel Tower. It's hard to believe that the tower was very unpopular when it first appeared on the Paris landscape in 1889, and many people didn't think it fit into the Paris architecture.
Tonight however, lots of people enjoyed the warm summer evening while sitting on the grass (or the Champs de Mar) in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. In the evening, the tower lit up around ten pm, and within minutes all the lights began to twinkle. When this happened the crowd of people relaxing on the grassy area gave a delightful cheer. People jumped up and began snapping photos and then sat back down to resume their picnics. When we decided to leave, there were still lots of people savouring the sight of this world famous structure...
Today we went across a tiny street to a patisserie - boulanger called Cafe Salon de The (pronounced "Tay"). Alex - the person who rented this apartment to us, advised that the baker at this patisserie was "starting to get better," as apparently there had been some complaints. We ordered two coffees and two flakey, buttery pastries filled with warm puréed apple, which were delectable. No complaints from us.
From there we walked over to the market on Boulevard St. Germain to see if there was anything new. There was the usual lovely fruits and vegetables, piles of different types of olives, sausages, cheeses and other things like scarves, jewellery and clothing.
From there we wandered over to the Fountaine Saint-Michel in Place Saint-Michel in the 5th arrondissement. (I should mention that the city of Paris is divided into twenty arrondissements, or districts). It is a very large monument of the Archangel Michael treading on a dragon, carrying a banner and sword. There are two dragons on the lower level, each spewing water from their mouths. While we were standing and looking at the monument, a gold ring dropped on the ground in front of us. The person then picked it up and asked me if the ring belonged to me. I said, "No", and then he offered to sell it to me. I waved him off, finding it hard to believe that anyone could fall for this silly scam.
From there we walked over to L'Eglise St. Sulpice on Place St. Sulpice to see another historic cathedral in which construction began in 1646. Apparently the Marquis de Sade was christened in this church, but if you know anything about him, you know that he grew up into a nasty, depraved individual. On a more interesting note, Victor Hugo was married here. Apparently the organ in this church is one of the world's largest, with 6,588 pipes. As well, everyone knows that St. Sulpice played an important role in the book, "The Da Vinci Code". I think I might re-read this when I get home. One very spectacular thing I should mention, is that you could watch a video in the church, of people being baptized in water. The water came pouring over their heads in slow motion, splashing down their faces. It was absolutely stunning to watch. (There is even a website for this called Baptism@benjaminb.com.)
We left St. Sulpice and stopped at the very old cafe of Les Deux Magots (which means "two figurines from China"), in the Saint-Germain-des-Pres area in the 6th arrondissement. It's famous, because at one time it was a rendezvous area for the literary and intellectuals of the city. (Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, James Joyce and others). The cafe once belonged to a fabric and novelty shop on the same site, that turned into a cafe. If you go in the doors of the cafe, and don't mind feeling a twinge of embarrassment for a few moments, you can get a photograph of two large magot (Chinese salesman) statues who keep watch over all the people who might be sitting around and philosophizing.
After this, we carried on and walked across the Pont Neuf Bridge which spans over the Seine. This brought us into the 1st arrondissement, just south of Rue Montorgueil. The Pont Neuf is the oldest bridge on which construction began in 1578. The reason we went over the Pont Neuf was to go to 'Le Chien qui Fume' (The Smoking Dog) Bistro for lunch, which dates to 1740. The address is 33, Rue du Pont Neuf, in case anyone is interested. Apparently a lot of the farmers who brought their fruits and vegetables to the old market of Les Halles from surrounding farms, would stay and eat in this Inn,(now a cafe. Eventually the area around the Inn evolved into a red light district, because Les Halles market never slept.
We were happy with our lunch there, and it was fun to see this beautiful, old bistro. If only walls could talk! I tried the parma tagliatelle and Ron had the salmon tagliatelle, and we both found the cafe interesting. There were lots of old pictures on the wall of the old Les Halles market.
I found out about The Smoking Dog bistro when I learned about the old market system of Paris called Les Halles. For 800 years this market was the centre of food distribution in Paris, and it was called, "The Belly of Paris" by Emile Zola. The market was a shelter for merchants who came from all over to sell their products. Vegetables were sold during the day, but it was at night that the fish and meat vendors went into full swing. Thousands of tons of meat were bought, butchered, traded and sold. This market was also a meeting place for the citizens of Paris. Naughty things also took place at the market, where prostitutes found favour with many of the robust butchers and meat carriers. To the north of the market was rue Saint Denis known for its "slimmer prostitutes".
There was a Parisian photographer named Robert Doisneau who captured Les Halles as it was, in some of his famous photographs. Last spring,there was a display of his many of his famous photographs. (I nearly cried myself to sleep when I discovered this).
Sadly, the success of Les Halles was its own undoing. The traffic started to become a serious problem, and the site was destroyed in 1971. Now, there is an underground mall there, and a lot of building and construction taking place over the old market site. The market was re-located to the suburb of Rungis, which I didn't find myself that interested in.
It was said that when the food market was moved out of Les Halles, Paris was eviscerated. How I wish I could have seen this glorious market!
After walking around the area in stifling heat and humidity, we headed back to the cool apartment for a break.
We sat around for awhile looking out the apartment windows and listening to life out on the streets. After sharing a baguette and cheese and some fruit in the late afternoon, we headed out on the metro in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. We got off at the Trocadero stop and walked to Trocadero Square. We sat on a stone ledge where there was an excellent view of the fountain canons shooting out water. Just beyond the fountains, the Eiffel Tower could be clearly seen.
When we got to the tower, we could see there was construction going on and some fencing in the square. You couldn't stand directly under the centre and look up. But nothing stopped the large groups of people who were happy to be so near to this amazing structure.
We sat on the grass amongst many other people looking at the Eiffel Tower. It's hard to believe that the tower was very unpopular when it first appeared on the Paris landscape in 1889, and many people didn't think it fit into the Paris architecture.
Tonight however, lots of people enjoyed the warm summer evening while sitting on the grass (or the Champs de Mar) in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. In the evening, the tower lit up around ten pm, and within minutes all the lights began to twinkle. When this happened the crowd of people relaxing on the grassy area gave a delightful cheer. People jumped up and began snapping photos and then sat back down to resume their picnics. When we decided to leave, there were still lots of people savouring the sight of this world famous structure...
Monday, 17 June 2013
Ernest Hemingway, Luxembourg Gardens, and The Pantheon
Bonjour Everyone!
This morning when I woke up, I remembered I had just been having a strange dream. In the dream, all of my immediate family was in a room together, and everyone was being critical about President Obama. Sitting to my left, was Wolf Blitzer, all composed in a nice suit, and wearing the usual flat expression. I reminded everyone that Wolf Blitzer from CNN was here, and perhaps we should keep it down about President Obama. Suddenly Wolf (we're on first name basis now, since I dreampt about him) got up, came over and sat down beside me. He began showing me a big book filled with pages of writing. I have no idea what this dream was about. Once I shook myself out of my nightmare,I remembered I was in Paris...and I'm in my favourite place in the world.
When we looked out our windows we were surprised it was cloudy. The forecast yesterday had said 29 degrees. It started sprinkling and we went to a cafe down the street called La Grange. It looked so inviting because there were red tables, with red matching chairs, and anyone who has ever had red in their life, knows what a warm, and welcoming colour red is. We ordered our usual, and while we were sitting there, it started to pour. Soon there was lightening and such a loud clap of thunder right over us, that we thought the cafe might be split in half. The rain was coming down so hard, it was like a waterfall over the sides of the tarp which was above our heads. We had no choice but to sit and watch people scurry by with umbrellas. You can tolerate weather like this in a place like Paris, especially if you know you still have lots of time to embrace yet more of its treasures.
When the rain turned to a light sprinkle, we walked back to our apartment to spread out the map and determine our plan for the day. I looked out the window and saw some unfortunate tourists standing on a corner with shopping bags on their heads and wet maps in their hands. You could tell by their posture, they just couldn't believe it was raining in Paris. You just have to wait it out or at least wait until it's manageable enough to walk in.
When the downpour changed to a light sprinkle, we decided it was now manageable, so we started walking towards Rue De la Descartes which we knew would change to Rue Mouffetard. The reason for this was to to see a bit of the Ernest Hemingway walk of Paris. Unfortunately, the sky turned dark all over again and it had a strange appearance - almost like it was now evening. We knew we had to find refuge right away, and this time it was in a cafe called La Methode on 2, Rue Descartes. Again, we had to wait out another debilitating downpour which took around half an hour.
The first thing that ever attracted me to even reading anything written by Ernest Hemingway, was the following quote he wrote in his book, "A Moveable Feast", which was about his life in Paris in the twenties. "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a Moveable Feast". How true...
We walked to the place where Ernest Hemingway and Hadley Richardson had shared their first apartment in Paris on the 4th floor of Rue Du Cardinal Lemoine at No. 74. In the book, Moveable Feast, Hemingway says this, "All of the sadness of the city suddenly came with the first cold rains of winter and there were no more tops to the high white houses as you walked, but only the wet blackness of the street and the closed doors of the small shops, the herb sellers, the stationary and newspaper shops, the midwife - second class - and the hotel where Verlaine had died where I had a room on the top floor, where I worked".
After our long walk, we decided to stop for lunch at Asie Prestige on Rue Mouffetard for Asian food which included French sounding names like brochette de poulet, crevette, salad thailandaise, and poulet croustillant. (Chicken on a stick, shrimp, a Thai salad, and more chicken in a sauce, and some rice). It was all okay, but why do you want Thai food when you are in Paris?
After our nice lunch, we walked to one of the famous cafes of Paris called La Closerie des Lilas. It is now an extravagant restaurant. I felt a little silly asking to see the place where Ernest Hemingway used to sit to do a lot of his writing. A nice lady in a black suit took me to the place. "Voila Madame". I saw a small gold plaque embedded in the surface of the counter at the bar and the stools all along the counter. I said "Merci Beaucoup!" and walked by the elegant lady in the black suit out the door.
And the last thing we did with regard to Ernest Hemingway was to walk down Rue Notre-Dame Des Champs where he and Hadley had also lived in a shabby apartment at No. 113. Then, it was a carpenter's loft over a working sawmill. Across the street, was a Boulanger-Patissiere called Les Bles d'Ange. If you walked across the street from No. 113, you could go up the stairway and cut through the Patisserie. You could stop to buy a piece of the richest custard flan, and then carry it out to a bench on Boulevard Du Montparnasse at which point you would sit down to enjoy it - which is just what we did.
We walked further to the home of Gertrude Stein at 27 Rue De le Fleurus, near the Luxembourg Gardens. Gertrude had quite an influence on Ernest Hemingway. For over 40 years, her home became a renowned Saturday evening gathering place for expatriate American artists and writers, and others. She gathered an an amazing collection of art from Renoir, Cezanne, Picasso, and Gaughin. She was a mentor and a critic to those who gathered around her, and quite an interesting person if anyone ever wanted to read about her life.
After our little tour, we stopped at a cafe called Bread & Roses on 7, rue de Fleurus for rosé wine, and to discuss everything that we had seen.
Getting tired by now, we took a shortcut through the Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens), past Luxembourg Palace (I know...can you imagine taking a short cut past a Palace?) Actually this Palace really isn't a Palace anymore - it now houses the French Senate.
I should mention that by this time, the heat was stifling, and it had become quite humid. We sat down on a bench to cool off a bit, and a young woman walked by pushing a stroller. Her T-shirt sparkled with the words, "Believe, Forgive, Love, Unite".
After seeing this inspirational message, I confided to Ron a few things that were troubling me. He responded in his usual problem-solving manner. "Oh it's all right, don't you think?" I replied that I guessed it was if you took the Ron Parker way of looking at life. "What do you mean?", he said, to which I responded, "Never go below half an inch from the surface." Ron replied, "That's right! The SHALLOW shall survive!" You know, I thought to myself - it might be true!
After an inspiring rest on the bench, we decided to drop by the Pantheon on the way to the apartment. It was interesting if you feel like seeing the tombs of lots of famous people including Marie Currie, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire - and the Schcelchers whoever they are.
After the Pantheon, we came back to our apartment for a break. Ron crashed for awhile. I think he's feeling tired of navigating these days. Yesterday, when I turned the wrong way to go somewhere, he told me (in a kind way) that my sense of direction was "Hideous!" No wonder I have a complex about my map reading skills.
After Ron woke up and was re-oriented, we walked to Cafe Le Petit Cluny on Blvd. St. Michel. We tried the French onion soup and after strolled in the cool evening air past Eglise Saint-Severin (Church of Saint-Severin). The sky was dark again with gray clouds. It started to drizzle, but we popped open our umbrellas and reminded ourselves of where we were....
This morning when I woke up, I remembered I had just been having a strange dream. In the dream, all of my immediate family was in a room together, and everyone was being critical about President Obama. Sitting to my left, was Wolf Blitzer, all composed in a nice suit, and wearing the usual flat expression. I reminded everyone that Wolf Blitzer from CNN was here, and perhaps we should keep it down about President Obama. Suddenly Wolf (we're on first name basis now, since I dreampt about him) got up, came over and sat down beside me. He began showing me a big book filled with pages of writing. I have no idea what this dream was about. Once I shook myself out of my nightmare,I remembered I was in Paris...and I'm in my favourite place in the world.
When we looked out our windows we were surprised it was cloudy. The forecast yesterday had said 29 degrees. It started sprinkling and we went to a cafe down the street called La Grange. It looked so inviting because there were red tables, with red matching chairs, and anyone who has ever had red in their life, knows what a warm, and welcoming colour red is. We ordered our usual, and while we were sitting there, it started to pour. Soon there was lightening and such a loud clap of thunder right over us, that we thought the cafe might be split in half. The rain was coming down so hard, it was like a waterfall over the sides of the tarp which was above our heads. We had no choice but to sit and watch people scurry by with umbrellas. You can tolerate weather like this in a place like Paris, especially if you know you still have lots of time to embrace yet more of its treasures.
When the rain turned to a light sprinkle, we walked back to our apartment to spread out the map and determine our plan for the day. I looked out the window and saw some unfortunate tourists standing on a corner with shopping bags on their heads and wet maps in their hands. You could tell by their posture, they just couldn't believe it was raining in Paris. You just have to wait it out or at least wait until it's manageable enough to walk in.
When the downpour changed to a light sprinkle, we decided it was now manageable, so we started walking towards Rue De la Descartes which we knew would change to Rue Mouffetard. The reason for this was to to see a bit of the Ernest Hemingway walk of Paris. Unfortunately, the sky turned dark all over again and it had a strange appearance - almost like it was now evening. We knew we had to find refuge right away, and this time it was in a cafe called La Methode on 2, Rue Descartes. Again, we had to wait out another debilitating downpour which took around half an hour.
The first thing that ever attracted me to even reading anything written by Ernest Hemingway, was the following quote he wrote in his book, "A Moveable Feast", which was about his life in Paris in the twenties. "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a Moveable Feast". How true...
We walked to the place where Ernest Hemingway and Hadley Richardson had shared their first apartment in Paris on the 4th floor of Rue Du Cardinal Lemoine at No. 74. In the book, Moveable Feast, Hemingway says this, "All of the sadness of the city suddenly came with the first cold rains of winter and there were no more tops to the high white houses as you walked, but only the wet blackness of the street and the closed doors of the small shops, the herb sellers, the stationary and newspaper shops, the midwife - second class - and the hotel where Verlaine had died where I had a room on the top floor, where I worked".
After our long walk, we decided to stop for lunch at Asie Prestige on Rue Mouffetard for Asian food which included French sounding names like brochette de poulet, crevette, salad thailandaise, and poulet croustillant. (Chicken on a stick, shrimp, a Thai salad, and more chicken in a sauce, and some rice). It was all okay, but why do you want Thai food when you are in Paris?
After our nice lunch, we walked to one of the famous cafes of Paris called La Closerie des Lilas. It is now an extravagant restaurant. I felt a little silly asking to see the place where Ernest Hemingway used to sit to do a lot of his writing. A nice lady in a black suit took me to the place. "Voila Madame". I saw a small gold plaque embedded in the surface of the counter at the bar and the stools all along the counter. I said "Merci Beaucoup!" and walked by the elegant lady in the black suit out the door.
And the last thing we did with regard to Ernest Hemingway was to walk down Rue Notre-Dame Des Champs where he and Hadley had also lived in a shabby apartment at No. 113. Then, it was a carpenter's loft over a working sawmill. Across the street, was a Boulanger-Patissiere called Les Bles d'Ange. If you walked across the street from No. 113, you could go up the stairway and cut through the Patisserie. You could stop to buy a piece of the richest custard flan, and then carry it out to a bench on Boulevard Du Montparnasse at which point you would sit down to enjoy it - which is just what we did.
We walked further to the home of Gertrude Stein at 27 Rue De le Fleurus, near the Luxembourg Gardens. Gertrude had quite an influence on Ernest Hemingway. For over 40 years, her home became a renowned Saturday evening gathering place for expatriate American artists and writers, and others. She gathered an an amazing collection of art from Renoir, Cezanne, Picasso, and Gaughin. She was a mentor and a critic to those who gathered around her, and quite an interesting person if anyone ever wanted to read about her life.
After our little tour, we stopped at a cafe called Bread & Roses on 7, rue de Fleurus for rosé wine, and to discuss everything that we had seen.
Getting tired by now, we took a shortcut through the Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens), past Luxembourg Palace (I know...can you imagine taking a short cut past a Palace?) Actually this Palace really isn't a Palace anymore - it now houses the French Senate.
I should mention that by this time, the heat was stifling, and it had become quite humid. We sat down on a bench to cool off a bit, and a young woman walked by pushing a stroller. Her T-shirt sparkled with the words, "Believe, Forgive, Love, Unite".
After seeing this inspirational message, I confided to Ron a few things that were troubling me. He responded in his usual problem-solving manner. "Oh it's all right, don't you think?" I replied that I guessed it was if you took the Ron Parker way of looking at life. "What do you mean?", he said, to which I responded, "Never go below half an inch from the surface." Ron replied, "That's right! The SHALLOW shall survive!" You know, I thought to myself - it might be true!
After an inspiring rest on the bench, we decided to drop by the Pantheon on the way to the apartment. It was interesting if you feel like seeing the tombs of lots of famous people including Marie Currie, Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, Voltaire - and the Schcelchers whoever they are.
After the Pantheon, we came back to our apartment for a break. Ron crashed for awhile. I think he's feeling tired of navigating these days. Yesterday, when I turned the wrong way to go somewhere, he told me (in a kind way) that my sense of direction was "Hideous!" No wonder I have a complex about my map reading skills.
After Ron woke up and was re-oriented, we walked to Cafe Le Petit Cluny on Blvd. St. Michel. We tried the French onion soup and after strolled in the cool evening air past Eglise Saint-Severin (Church of Saint-Severin). The sky was dark again with gray clouds. It started to drizzle, but we popped open our umbrellas and reminded ourselves of where we were....
Sunday, 16 June 2013
Paris
Bonjour Everyone!
Today we got up a little earlier than usual to pack our suitcases and tidy up the apartment. We wanted to have enough time to walk to Au Fourmil de Baptiste Artisan Boulanger for deux cafe au lait et deux croissants. We arrived early enough to see all the beautiful artisan breads coming out of the ovens and being stacked in baskets along the wall. We sat at a table on the terrace and stared out at the rolling hills which were so green and lush. I noticed the jasmine still flowering in big pots, as well as huge clumps of lavender just on the verge of blooming. Pink roses in striking blooms, climbed up a trellis.
We watched a man with lots of gray hair tied in a pony tail walk across the parking lot trying to control his big dog on a leash, but holding onto a precious crusty, baguette with the other hand. It's very true that you will often see a French person walking purposefully with a baguette in one hand.
One thing you won't see? People driving through dreary parking lots to get to a window and order coffee. So we left Valbonne and drove to the Nice airport, where we returned our car to the rental agency. We checked our baggage and waited to go through security. As we sat waiting, we noticed a couple soldiers in military uniforms strolling slowly through the airport looking right and left. We noticed the AK47's they held, with hands obviously posed for action.
We finally boarded and I watched out the window as the plane climbed, and it tilted so you could easily see the beautiful Mediterranean, as well as boats and yachts which gradually became like tiny dots. Soon we were above the clouds and then I could see the snow capped French Alps. A bientot (so long) to the breathtaking beauty of the Côte d'Azur...
We reached the Orly Airport in Paris at 2:20 pm and took a shuttle to our apartment, as we did not want to change trains three times, especially dragging large suitcases behind. We met Alex at the apartment at 4:30 pm. He showed us all around. The apartment is in the 5th Arrondissement on the 4th floor of an old building (early 1700's. It is beautiful, rustic and has old antiques in it. The location is perfect - in the Latin Quarter which is the best for seeing the great sights of Paris.
After getting settled in our apartment, we walked down Boulevard St. Germain, turned right on Rue Des Carmes and stopped at Les Delices du Fournil, which is right down the street from a cute, little hotel called Hotel St. Jacques. We ordered one eggplant tartinette and one chicken tartinette and then sat on some steps eating our street food, wondering how to make the best use of our time for the next few hours. Sometimes you find yourself being caught in a bit of a dilemma in places like Paris where lunch is served from around 12:30 to 2:30pm. Dinner is served after 7:30 pm in the evening so you just have to learn to adjust your schedule around this.
It was a beautiful, warm evening so we walked over the bridge and stopped to look down at the Seine River on our way to the Notre Dame de Paris which is French for 'Our Lady of Paris". The Notre Dame is one of the largest and most well known church buildings in the world, with construction having started around 1160 AD. We walked into the cathedral and could hear the most beautiful female voice singing during a church service, which was taking place on this Sunday evening. There was a choir also. It was absolutely beautiful.
It is amazing to think that Mary Queen of Scots was married to the Dauphin here in 1558. The coronation of Napoleon took place in this cathedral in 1804. These are only two events in the amazing history of this cathedral.
Of course you can actually climb over 700 steps to the bell tower of Notre Dame if you'd like to go up and get a very close look at the massive gargoyles. We did this once about 5 years ago, and it was well worth the gruelling climb up.
Since the Memorial Des Martyrs De la Deportation, Ile St Louis is quite close to the cathedral, we walked over there. There is a monument inaugurated on April 12, 1962 by General De Gaulle, President of the French Republic, as a place of contemplation and remembrance of the suffering caused by the deportation of Jews from France. Although I have been in this area, I had never walked over to actually view this monument.
It was such a beautiful, warm evening, and we sat on a bench very near the Seine and listened to some very traditional 'Paris Cafe' music which was being played on an accordion just around the corner. This music filled the air all around, and you could tell people were enjoying listening to such a skilled musician. It all adds to the beauty of this city.
After listening to the music for awhile, we walked over the Pont de L'Archeveche, back into the Latin corner. Whenever you find yourself on a bridge in Paris, you should always take time to pause and look at the Seine. This bridge is interesting as it has thousands of locks attached to the metal railings over the whole expanse of the bridge. These locks have been signed by people as a token of their shared love.
We decided to stop at Le Village Ronsard, on Blvd. St. Germain. This is a cafe right on a corner. The location is really what attracts you. I had an excellent salad there called Poulet - gourmet salad of tomato, corn, chicken, green beans, hard boiled egg, and potatoes. Ron had Magnet De Canard (duck) in a very strong ginger sauce, which he didn't care for. The rose wine was perfect, and I think I can actually taste a bit of rose petal (even though rose petals have nothing to do with rose wine).
So we returned to the apartment after celebrating our first evening in Paris. You feel excited because there is so much to do and see here...and even if you didn't want to 'do and see' you can just walk along the Seine River, taking in sights like the Eiffel Tower...
Today we got up a little earlier than usual to pack our suitcases and tidy up the apartment. We wanted to have enough time to walk to Au Fourmil de Baptiste Artisan Boulanger for deux cafe au lait et deux croissants. We arrived early enough to see all the beautiful artisan breads coming out of the ovens and being stacked in baskets along the wall. We sat at a table on the terrace and stared out at the rolling hills which were so green and lush. I noticed the jasmine still flowering in big pots, as well as huge clumps of lavender just on the verge of blooming. Pink roses in striking blooms, climbed up a trellis.
We watched a man with lots of gray hair tied in a pony tail walk across the parking lot trying to control his big dog on a leash, but holding onto a precious crusty, baguette with the other hand. It's very true that you will often see a French person walking purposefully with a baguette in one hand.
One thing you won't see? People driving through dreary parking lots to get to a window and order coffee. So we left Valbonne and drove to the Nice airport, where we returned our car to the rental agency. We checked our baggage and waited to go through security. As we sat waiting, we noticed a couple soldiers in military uniforms strolling slowly through the airport looking right and left. We noticed the AK47's they held, with hands obviously posed for action.
We finally boarded and I watched out the window as the plane climbed, and it tilted so you could easily see the beautiful Mediterranean, as well as boats and yachts which gradually became like tiny dots. Soon we were above the clouds and then I could see the snow capped French Alps. A bientot (so long) to the breathtaking beauty of the Côte d'Azur...
We reached the Orly Airport in Paris at 2:20 pm and took a shuttle to our apartment, as we did not want to change trains three times, especially dragging large suitcases behind. We met Alex at the apartment at 4:30 pm. He showed us all around. The apartment is in the 5th Arrondissement on the 4th floor of an old building (early 1700's. It is beautiful, rustic and has old antiques in it. The location is perfect - in the Latin Quarter which is the best for seeing the great sights of Paris.
After getting settled in our apartment, we walked down Boulevard St. Germain, turned right on Rue Des Carmes and stopped at Les Delices du Fournil, which is right down the street from a cute, little hotel called Hotel St. Jacques. We ordered one eggplant tartinette and one chicken tartinette and then sat on some steps eating our street food, wondering how to make the best use of our time for the next few hours. Sometimes you find yourself being caught in a bit of a dilemma in places like Paris where lunch is served from around 12:30 to 2:30pm. Dinner is served after 7:30 pm in the evening so you just have to learn to adjust your schedule around this.
It was a beautiful, warm evening so we walked over the bridge and stopped to look down at the Seine River on our way to the Notre Dame de Paris which is French for 'Our Lady of Paris". The Notre Dame is one of the largest and most well known church buildings in the world, with construction having started around 1160 AD. We walked into the cathedral and could hear the most beautiful female voice singing during a church service, which was taking place on this Sunday evening. There was a choir also. It was absolutely beautiful.
It is amazing to think that Mary Queen of Scots was married to the Dauphin here in 1558. The coronation of Napoleon took place in this cathedral in 1804. These are only two events in the amazing history of this cathedral.
Of course you can actually climb over 700 steps to the bell tower of Notre Dame if you'd like to go up and get a very close look at the massive gargoyles. We did this once about 5 years ago, and it was well worth the gruelling climb up.
Since the Memorial Des Martyrs De la Deportation, Ile St Louis is quite close to the cathedral, we walked over there. There is a monument inaugurated on April 12, 1962 by General De Gaulle, President of the French Republic, as a place of contemplation and remembrance of the suffering caused by the deportation of Jews from France. Although I have been in this area, I had never walked over to actually view this monument.
It was such a beautiful, warm evening, and we sat on a bench very near the Seine and listened to some very traditional 'Paris Cafe' music which was being played on an accordion just around the corner. This music filled the air all around, and you could tell people were enjoying listening to such a skilled musician. It all adds to the beauty of this city.
After listening to the music for awhile, we walked over the Pont de L'Archeveche, back into the Latin corner. Whenever you find yourself on a bridge in Paris, you should always take time to pause and look at the Seine. This bridge is interesting as it has thousands of locks attached to the metal railings over the whole expanse of the bridge. These locks have been signed by people as a token of their shared love.
We decided to stop at Le Village Ronsard, on Blvd. St. Germain. This is a cafe right on a corner. The location is really what attracts you. I had an excellent salad there called Poulet - gourmet salad of tomato, corn, chicken, green beans, hard boiled egg, and potatoes. Ron had Magnet De Canard (duck) in a very strong ginger sauce, which he didn't care for. The rose wine was perfect, and I think I can actually taste a bit of rose petal (even though rose petals have nothing to do with rose wine).
So we returned to the apartment after celebrating our first evening in Paris. You feel excited because there is so much to do and see here...and even if you didn't want to 'do and see' you can just walk along the Seine River, taking in sights like the Eiffel Tower...
Saturday, 15 June 2013
The Towns of Mougins, Grasse, Gourdon, and Vence
Bonjour Everyone!
This morning started out with coffee and flattened, but warm croissants at Sarl Les Armoiries Cafe in Place des Arcades right outside our apartment. The waitress was delightful, but she couldn't help it if the croissants weren't quite ready. The square is quiet in the morning except for the cafe staff bustling around setting up tables for the lunch crowd. Occasionally a small truck putters in to deliver supplies to the cafes, as well as drop off armloads of baguettes.
You kind of feel like running around banging on a pan of some sort, and politely calling out, "Bonjour everyone! Time to get up!" But alas, most of them are in deep slumber after the revelry the night before (when we were trying to sleep). As we look up we can see the shutters to the windows all tightly closed.
When our sad croissants were finished, we drove to the hilltop village of Mougins, which was not far from Valbonne. Mougins is a medieval village in a circular shape. We found it very interesting. There were lots of galleries, would-be artists and ateliers (workshops). We went to the MACM Musee D'Art Classique De Mougin. This museum has a large and diverse collection of antiquities from the Roman, Greek, and Egyptian world. It has the world's largest collection of ancient arms and armour. What I found so interesting about this museum, was that there were paintings, drawings, and sculptures by Picasso, Matisse, Dali, Cezanne, Rodin, Warhol, and others - but these works were interspersed amongst the antiquities.
Anyone who loved the movie 'The Gladiator', would be happy to know the silver, shining helmet used by the Spaniard in the movie, lies behind glass here at the MACM. You can see two autographs on it: one from Russell Crowe, and the other from Joaquin Phoenix.
At one point I looked over to see Ron busy taking a picture of a cross-eyed man with curly hair on the wall. I saw that the print was called 'A Bearded Man Crowned With Vine Leaves' by Pablo Picasso, in 1962. To each, his own...So we enjoyed our visit to this museum and when we left we walked along a street and happened to notice an exquisite, winding travertine (a form of limestone) bench with a large water fountain attached to the end of it. Inscribed into the travertine were the words 'Yes More Than Earth' and signed Carla Lavatelli. I had never heard of her, but now have started reading about her, and her fascinating life.
Just before leaving Mougin we went to the tourism office to ask where Pablo Picasso's home had been for the eight years while he had lived in Moulin. We were told that we could drive to the area, but would not be really able to see the home. We did just that, and behind a rusted out gate, could see the it hidden in a clump of trees. Everything appeared to be rather unkempt around the home, which did seem surprising. We drove off talking about the bizarre life of Pablo.
We decided to drive to Grasse. We had been to Grasse a few years ago, to the Musee International de la Parfumerie, but I don't remember paying much attention to the city. This time I was captivated by its lush beauty, and fascinating little streets which are so common to these ancient, cities and villages. The air felt humid, but not overpowering, and it was slightly hazy. Apparently the microclimate of Grasse is what enables thousands of delicate flowers to grow here. A few times when we mentioned going to Grasse, people would say,"Oh Grasse, there's nothing to see in Grasse - just the parfumeries!" Well, Grasse IS the perfume capital of the world. Suffice it to say, when you are in Grasse, you can't drive by Parfumerie Fragonard without stopping in.
Everytime I experience the magic of these hilltop villages and gorgeous places, I think the same thing...who couldn't be happy here for the rest of their days? Everything is so green, lush and healthy. There are massive palms, and giant agave plants growing here and there at the sides of the roads. I have noticed that the plants here don't look like they've been chewed up by some nasty insect. In fact, you hardly ever see bugs. I don't think they have them in the Côte d'Azur.
When we left Grasse, we continued on to another village called Gourdon. This was the narrowest road with hair-raising twists and turns. I kept hoping we could just make it to the top without bashing the mirrors off either side of the car on the way up. We climbed so high, my ears were popping. It was a bit hazy, and there was mist which billowed across the road. It seemed to take forever to reach the top. We drove through two tunnels from which water seeped and dripped on the car as we continued up. People highly recommended that we drive to Gourdon for the best views of the Riviera and the Mediterranean, but we were wondering if we had brain damage, because we obviously weren't going to have any view today, (if we ever did reach the top, that was.)
Well fortunately, we made it and decided to have lunch since we had burned so many calories from our terrorizing ride up. We stopped at a place called Auberge de Gourdon. We walked in and I was sure I was in the Alps where people might yodel and wear suede shorts. It felt like a Bavarian truck stop. However, everyone spoke French, so we knew we were still in France. A lady walked by our table with her dress on inside out. As we sat there we felt tired of having to maneuver the French menu, and even when the waitress explained it all in French, we still didn't understand. Therefore, I ended up with a Croquet Monsieur, which is basically a ham and grilled cheese sandwich. Ron recognized the word 'Italian' and ordered an Italian salad. No rose wine though, as we didn't want to fly over the cliff like Thelma and Louise on the way down.
After lunch, we walked out into the fog, and up the hill to the historic area where the castle was. Unfortunately, the castle is closed now, but used to have furniture from Versailles Palace, and works of art from Edgar Degas, and some sculptures. At one point, a little old man wanted us to come in and try his home-made nougat. We tried to tell him we didn't really want to, but went in anyway so as not to hurt his feelings. He gave us little bites to sample. We said, "Delicieux!" he said, "Okay, if you no buy, you leave now!" Well alright then...
So, we returned to the car and drove back down the hair raising turns a little sad that it was just too hazy to see the view that Gourdon is so famous for. You normally can see from Cannes to Nice and the Mediterranean and apparently, on a really clear day, you can see the island of Corsica.
Pretty soon we arrived in Vence, another medieval, walled village. We had fun walking around here again. It's a beautiful village and has a small cathedral called Notre Dame de la Nativite de Vence, which was built in the 4th century on the site of a Roman temple. There is a famous tiled mosaic on one wall by Marc Chagall called 'Moses Saved From The Waters' and is dated 1911. Marc Chagall, a Russian born artist, was known primarily for his paintings and stained glass. He died in 1985 in nearby Saint-Paul-de-Vence.
After touring the cathedral we walked through a square called Place Godeau, where two boys around age nine, sat at a small table engrossed in a game of chess. A little girl stood watching, with a skipping rope in one hand.
On our way out of Vence, we stopped at Le Troquet cafe on Place Du Grand Jard for Provençal rose wine. As well as the wine we also had cold, sparkling Perrier water. We didn't realize Vence was famous for its spring water until after we had finished our Perrier.
So we left Vence and started back to our apartment in Valbonne.
It was time to get back and start packing up because tomorrow, we return our trusty, little Renault car to the agency at the airport in Nice. We fly Air France to Paris, and look forward to new adventures in the City Of Light...
This morning started out with coffee and flattened, but warm croissants at Sarl Les Armoiries Cafe in Place des Arcades right outside our apartment. The waitress was delightful, but she couldn't help it if the croissants weren't quite ready. The square is quiet in the morning except for the cafe staff bustling around setting up tables for the lunch crowd. Occasionally a small truck putters in to deliver supplies to the cafes, as well as drop off armloads of baguettes.
You kind of feel like running around banging on a pan of some sort, and politely calling out, "Bonjour everyone! Time to get up!" But alas, most of them are in deep slumber after the revelry the night before (when we were trying to sleep). As we look up we can see the shutters to the windows all tightly closed.
When our sad croissants were finished, we drove to the hilltop village of Mougins, which was not far from Valbonne. Mougins is a medieval village in a circular shape. We found it very interesting. There were lots of galleries, would-be artists and ateliers (workshops). We went to the MACM Musee D'Art Classique De Mougin. This museum has a large and diverse collection of antiquities from the Roman, Greek, and Egyptian world. It has the world's largest collection of ancient arms and armour. What I found so interesting about this museum, was that there were paintings, drawings, and sculptures by Picasso, Matisse, Dali, Cezanne, Rodin, Warhol, and others - but these works were interspersed amongst the antiquities.
Anyone who loved the movie 'The Gladiator', would be happy to know the silver, shining helmet used by the Spaniard in the movie, lies behind glass here at the MACM. You can see two autographs on it: one from Russell Crowe, and the other from Joaquin Phoenix.
At one point I looked over to see Ron busy taking a picture of a cross-eyed man with curly hair on the wall. I saw that the print was called 'A Bearded Man Crowned With Vine Leaves' by Pablo Picasso, in 1962. To each, his own...So we enjoyed our visit to this museum and when we left we walked along a street and happened to notice an exquisite, winding travertine (a form of limestone) bench with a large water fountain attached to the end of it. Inscribed into the travertine were the words 'Yes More Than Earth' and signed Carla Lavatelli. I had never heard of her, but now have started reading about her, and her fascinating life.
Just before leaving Mougin we went to the tourism office to ask where Pablo Picasso's home had been for the eight years while he had lived in Moulin. We were told that we could drive to the area, but would not be really able to see the home. We did just that, and behind a rusted out gate, could see the it hidden in a clump of trees. Everything appeared to be rather unkempt around the home, which did seem surprising. We drove off talking about the bizarre life of Pablo.
We decided to drive to Grasse. We had been to Grasse a few years ago, to the Musee International de la Parfumerie, but I don't remember paying much attention to the city. This time I was captivated by its lush beauty, and fascinating little streets which are so common to these ancient, cities and villages. The air felt humid, but not overpowering, and it was slightly hazy. Apparently the microclimate of Grasse is what enables thousands of delicate flowers to grow here. A few times when we mentioned going to Grasse, people would say,"Oh Grasse, there's nothing to see in Grasse - just the parfumeries!" Well, Grasse IS the perfume capital of the world. Suffice it to say, when you are in Grasse, you can't drive by Parfumerie Fragonard without stopping in.
Everytime I experience the magic of these hilltop villages and gorgeous places, I think the same thing...who couldn't be happy here for the rest of their days? Everything is so green, lush and healthy. There are massive palms, and giant agave plants growing here and there at the sides of the roads. I have noticed that the plants here don't look like they've been chewed up by some nasty insect. In fact, you hardly ever see bugs. I don't think they have them in the Côte d'Azur.
When we left Grasse, we continued on to another village called Gourdon. This was the narrowest road with hair-raising twists and turns. I kept hoping we could just make it to the top without bashing the mirrors off either side of the car on the way up. We climbed so high, my ears were popping. It was a bit hazy, and there was mist which billowed across the road. It seemed to take forever to reach the top. We drove through two tunnels from which water seeped and dripped on the car as we continued up. People highly recommended that we drive to Gourdon for the best views of the Riviera and the Mediterranean, but we were wondering if we had brain damage, because we obviously weren't going to have any view today, (if we ever did reach the top, that was.)
Well fortunately, we made it and decided to have lunch since we had burned so many calories from our terrorizing ride up. We stopped at a place called Auberge de Gourdon. We walked in and I was sure I was in the Alps where people might yodel and wear suede shorts. It felt like a Bavarian truck stop. However, everyone spoke French, so we knew we were still in France. A lady walked by our table with her dress on inside out. As we sat there we felt tired of having to maneuver the French menu, and even when the waitress explained it all in French, we still didn't understand. Therefore, I ended up with a Croquet Monsieur, which is basically a ham and grilled cheese sandwich. Ron recognized the word 'Italian' and ordered an Italian salad. No rose wine though, as we didn't want to fly over the cliff like Thelma and Louise on the way down.
After lunch, we walked out into the fog, and up the hill to the historic area where the castle was. Unfortunately, the castle is closed now, but used to have furniture from Versailles Palace, and works of art from Edgar Degas, and some sculptures. At one point, a little old man wanted us to come in and try his home-made nougat. We tried to tell him we didn't really want to, but went in anyway so as not to hurt his feelings. He gave us little bites to sample. We said, "Delicieux!" he said, "Okay, if you no buy, you leave now!" Well alright then...
So, we returned to the car and drove back down the hair raising turns a little sad that it was just too hazy to see the view that Gourdon is so famous for. You normally can see from Cannes to Nice and the Mediterranean and apparently, on a really clear day, you can see the island of Corsica.
Pretty soon we arrived in Vence, another medieval, walled village. We had fun walking around here again. It's a beautiful village and has a small cathedral called Notre Dame de la Nativite de Vence, which was built in the 4th century on the site of a Roman temple. There is a famous tiled mosaic on one wall by Marc Chagall called 'Moses Saved From The Waters' and is dated 1911. Marc Chagall, a Russian born artist, was known primarily for his paintings and stained glass. He died in 1985 in nearby Saint-Paul-de-Vence.
After touring the cathedral we walked through a square called Place Godeau, where two boys around age nine, sat at a small table engrossed in a game of chess. A little girl stood watching, with a skipping rope in one hand.
On our way out of Vence, we stopped at Le Troquet cafe on Place Du Grand Jard for Provençal rose wine. As well as the wine we also had cold, sparkling Perrier water. We didn't realize Vence was famous for its spring water until after we had finished our Perrier.
So we left Vence and started back to our apartment in Valbonne.
It was time to get back and start packing up because tomorrow, we return our trusty, little Renault car to the agency at the airport in Nice. We fly Air France to Paris, and look forward to new adventures in the City Of Light...
Friday, 14 June 2013
The Market at Valbonne and the Village of Plascassier
Bonjour Family and Friends!
Today we awoke to the sound of tables being dragged across the cobblestone outside our window, in preparation for the weekly market every Friday morning in Valbonne. You could hear voices calling out, and banging and clanging noises, and it all occurred just the way we were told it would. When we went downstairs to leave the building and go out to the street, we found many tables filled with vegetables of all kinds, lined up just outside our door, but at least we were able to exit without any difficulty.
Since we no longer had the luxury of Mireille's lovely breakfasts awaiting us on her sunny terrace, we walked across Place Des Arcades to Le Jdeed Cafe (it is a strange spelling), for our morning coffee and croissants.
We sat there for awhile observing the bustle all around us, and talking about how fascinating these markets are, and especially this one. Being such a large market, it was forced to wind its way through the narrow streets of Valbonne. As usual, there was everything - food and clothing, hand-crafted jewellery, underwear, kitchen supplies, fruits, vegetables, and even someone demonstrating the cutting up of zucchinis and carrots with a new, slick mandoline.
When we had exhausted every corner of the market, we decided to drive to the village of Plascassier, which is really a stones throw from Valbonne. We were going with a specific purpose, and that was to find the vacation home of Paul and Julia Child. Believe it or not, this provençal home can actually be rented - which I think is cool, and if you admire Julia Child like I do, then you might be interested in seeing the place where she wrote some of 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking', the two-volume masterpiece written while staying at La Pitchoune (which means 'The Little One'). This was the name of her home on the property at Domaine de Bramafam in the hills above Plascassier. Mastering The Art of French Cooking was one of the most popular and influential cookbooks ever published, and it introduced French cooking to millions of home cooks in America during the 1960s and ’70s.
After reading, 'My Life in France', the story of Julia Child, I knew the area was called Domaine de Bramafam, and also that it was located somewhere in the countryside, just outside the village of Plascassier. The problem is, if you are not renting it, the location just isn't out there for the tourist to find. I was sure that eventually we would find a local who might know something about Julia and where this vacation home may be located.
An interesting note is that the average French person knows nothing of Julia Child. They've never even heard of her. If you ask, "Excusez moi, do you know who Julia Child is?" The first thing they ask you to do is repeat the question. Then everyone gets the same quizzical look. They'll even go and inquire of their friends, and then everybody shakes their heads. "She was a chef, you say? We have our own chefs. Many chefs, many chefs here!" You just can't believe it! Julia Child unknown in France? But it's true...
We drove by a cute little restaurant in Plascassier called Auberge de Provence in Place St. Donat. We decided to have lunch first, before we went on our quest. We thoroughly enjoyed our lunch. We had the friendliest waiter named Patrick, who turned out to be the owner. He told us a few things about himself including the fact that he had been born in the Loire Valley, and had spent 12 years in Paris learning the restaurant business. It seems like at least half of an enjoyable experience of eating out, depends on who is waiting on your table. We could hear Patrick happily singing in the kitchen. I think he was waiter and chef. We tried the salad nicoise. I should add that most meals are paired with a glass of rosé wine from the Provençal region, unless otherwise stated. Ron wanted to try some foie gras, so he ordered it as an appetizer. Foie Gras is a food product made from the liver of a duck or goose that has been specially fattened. I must admit I only tasted it, but I was surprised it had a nutty flavour and I actually didn't mind it (of course you must be aware there are many people who are vigorously opposed to the force feeding of ducks and geese to fatten their livers up quickly).
Just before we left Auberge de ProvenceI restaurant, I decided to throw the question out there one more time. I asked Patrick, "Do you know who Julia Child is?" I waited anxiously. I was hoping that he might be the ONE whose eyes might light up at the recognition of her name. "Nooooo" he shook his head. I gave up, deflated. Then Ron asked, "Do you know of 'Domaine de Bramafam?" "Oh, oui, oui!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to tell us how to get to the right area at least.
Just after lunch, we walked around the tiny village of Plascassier. We loved how beautiful and rustic it was. It was peaceful and quiet, and there was a cool breeze. A big cat sat perched on a blue window sill, barely able to keep his eyes open. We came upon a little church called Notre Dame des Fleurs and went inside.
Then we got into the little Renault and started out on our drive down the Domaine de Bramafam road to try and guess which house had belonged to the Child's, based on clues mainly from the Internet. We stopped and asked a few people in this very district, and everyone did the same thing, they shook their heads, "Non!"
It seemed odd that the neighbours wouldn't know about a property in their own area which is rented as a vacation spot. But, it was okay...I had been able to come as close as anyone could without knowing the house number. Another interesting note is that the village of Plascassier was home to Edith Piaf, also known as 'The Little Sparrow'. She was one of France's greatest international singing stars from 1930 to 1963, when she died of liver cancer at age 49. Her fascinating life story is told in a movie called, "Le Vie En Rose". I would like to have seen her home also, but you just can't do everything...
So we left this most beautiful area of Plascassier and started towards the Parfumerie Fragonard in Grasse, but the traffic was so heavy, we turned around at the first opportunity and went back to the apartment. We decided perhaps I could visit Fragonard tomorrow in St. Paul de Vence.
When we arrived back at the apartment, Ron went across the square and down the next street to buy a baguette. He noticed there were quite a few varieties of baguettes while waiting in line. Finally his turn came, and rather than trying to speak French, he just resorted to "Parlez-vous anglais?". The shop lady immediately said, " Oui. A leetle." He asked what was the difference between the varieties of baguettes. Naturally this would require a detailed response, which probably made the person behind want to kick him. However, the lady proceeded to describe the difference in great detail, AND in French. She gave a demonstration by squeezing each of two baguettes. Ron was forced to stand and listen to a lengthy speech, since he had asked the question. Thankfully her explanation made things crystal clear, and Ron chose the darker baguette in her left hand. He then came back with our snack, and declared he had chosen the "traditionnel."
After spending a few hours in the apartment, listening to children playing and screaming as well as the dull roar of adult voices in the Place Des Arcades, we decided to go out and for a walk in the cool evening air. One thing you can always do here if you find yourself at loose ends? Go for a walk through the streets of a medieval village...
Today we awoke to the sound of tables being dragged across the cobblestone outside our window, in preparation for the weekly market every Friday morning in Valbonne. You could hear voices calling out, and banging and clanging noises, and it all occurred just the way we were told it would. When we went downstairs to leave the building and go out to the street, we found many tables filled with vegetables of all kinds, lined up just outside our door, but at least we were able to exit without any difficulty.
Since we no longer had the luxury of Mireille's lovely breakfasts awaiting us on her sunny terrace, we walked across Place Des Arcades to Le Jdeed Cafe (it is a strange spelling), for our morning coffee and croissants.
We sat there for awhile observing the bustle all around us, and talking about how fascinating these markets are, and especially this one. Being such a large market, it was forced to wind its way through the narrow streets of Valbonne. As usual, there was everything - food and clothing, hand-crafted jewellery, underwear, kitchen supplies, fruits, vegetables, and even someone demonstrating the cutting up of zucchinis and carrots with a new, slick mandoline.
When we had exhausted every corner of the market, we decided to drive to the village of Plascassier, which is really a stones throw from Valbonne. We were going with a specific purpose, and that was to find the vacation home of Paul and Julia Child. Believe it or not, this provençal home can actually be rented - which I think is cool, and if you admire Julia Child like I do, then you might be interested in seeing the place where she wrote some of 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking', the two-volume masterpiece written while staying at La Pitchoune (which means 'The Little One'). This was the name of her home on the property at Domaine de Bramafam in the hills above Plascassier. Mastering The Art of French Cooking was one of the most popular and influential cookbooks ever published, and it introduced French cooking to millions of home cooks in America during the 1960s and ’70s.
After reading, 'My Life in France', the story of Julia Child, I knew the area was called Domaine de Bramafam, and also that it was located somewhere in the countryside, just outside the village of Plascassier. The problem is, if you are not renting it, the location just isn't out there for the tourist to find. I was sure that eventually we would find a local who might know something about Julia and where this vacation home may be located.
An interesting note is that the average French person knows nothing of Julia Child. They've never even heard of her. If you ask, "Excusez moi, do you know who Julia Child is?" The first thing they ask you to do is repeat the question. Then everyone gets the same quizzical look. They'll even go and inquire of their friends, and then everybody shakes their heads. "She was a chef, you say? We have our own chefs. Many chefs, many chefs here!" You just can't believe it! Julia Child unknown in France? But it's true...
We drove by a cute little restaurant in Plascassier called Auberge de Provence in Place St. Donat. We decided to have lunch first, before we went on our quest. We thoroughly enjoyed our lunch. We had the friendliest waiter named Patrick, who turned out to be the owner. He told us a few things about himself including the fact that he had been born in the Loire Valley, and had spent 12 years in Paris learning the restaurant business. It seems like at least half of an enjoyable experience of eating out, depends on who is waiting on your table. We could hear Patrick happily singing in the kitchen. I think he was waiter and chef. We tried the salad nicoise. I should add that most meals are paired with a glass of rosé wine from the Provençal region, unless otherwise stated. Ron wanted to try some foie gras, so he ordered it as an appetizer. Foie Gras is a food product made from the liver of a duck or goose that has been specially fattened. I must admit I only tasted it, but I was surprised it had a nutty flavour and I actually didn't mind it (of course you must be aware there are many people who are vigorously opposed to the force feeding of ducks and geese to fatten their livers up quickly).
Just before we left Auberge de ProvenceI restaurant, I decided to throw the question out there one more time. I asked Patrick, "Do you know who Julia Child is?" I waited anxiously. I was hoping that he might be the ONE whose eyes might light up at the recognition of her name. "Nooooo" he shook his head. I gave up, deflated. Then Ron asked, "Do you know of 'Domaine de Bramafam?" "Oh, oui, oui!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to tell us how to get to the right area at least.
Just after lunch, we walked around the tiny village of Plascassier. We loved how beautiful and rustic it was. It was peaceful and quiet, and there was a cool breeze. A big cat sat perched on a blue window sill, barely able to keep his eyes open. We came upon a little church called Notre Dame des Fleurs and went inside.
Then we got into the little Renault and started out on our drive down the Domaine de Bramafam road to try and guess which house had belonged to the Child's, based on clues mainly from the Internet. We stopped and asked a few people in this very district, and everyone did the same thing, they shook their heads, "Non!"
It seemed odd that the neighbours wouldn't know about a property in their own area which is rented as a vacation spot. But, it was okay...I had been able to come as close as anyone could without knowing the house number. Another interesting note is that the village of Plascassier was home to Edith Piaf, also known as 'The Little Sparrow'. She was one of France's greatest international singing stars from 1930 to 1963, when she died of liver cancer at age 49. Her fascinating life story is told in a movie called, "Le Vie En Rose". I would like to have seen her home also, but you just can't do everything...
So we left this most beautiful area of Plascassier and started towards the Parfumerie Fragonard in Grasse, but the traffic was so heavy, we turned around at the first opportunity and went back to the apartment. We decided perhaps I could visit Fragonard tomorrow in St. Paul de Vence.
When we arrived back at the apartment, Ron went across the square and down the next street to buy a baguette. He noticed there were quite a few varieties of baguettes while waiting in line. Finally his turn came, and rather than trying to speak French, he just resorted to "Parlez-vous anglais?". The shop lady immediately said, " Oui. A leetle." He asked what was the difference between the varieties of baguettes. Naturally this would require a detailed response, which probably made the person behind want to kick him. However, the lady proceeded to describe the difference in great detail, AND in French. She gave a demonstration by squeezing each of two baguettes. Ron was forced to stand and listen to a lengthy speech, since he had asked the question. Thankfully her explanation made things crystal clear, and Ron chose the darker baguette in her left hand. He then came back with our snack, and declared he had chosen the "traditionnel."
After spending a few hours in the apartment, listening to children playing and screaming as well as the dull roar of adult voices in the Place Des Arcades, we decided to go out and for a walk in the cool evening air. One thing you can always do here if you find yourself at loose ends? Go for a walk through the streets of a medieval village...
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