A Disappointment -- and a Surprise

So, when I said I was going to France, everyone said, “Are you going to the Eifel Tower?”

“Of course!” I replied. “Who wouldn’t?”

The Eifel Tower is a visual symbol of Paris to the world, I think. Built for the World’s Fair (Exposition Universelle) in 1889 by Gustave Eifel, it symbolizes love, technology, design. It is a landmark, and I have to admit, when I saw it from the plane, my heart beat a little faster.

And, when I overshot my bus stop on the second day in Paris and landed on the front of it, I was in awe of its power, its beauty, and its height.

And when I saw it by night, I was a bit breathless at its beauty, lit by hundreds of thousands of lights.

As one of the world’s most visited landmarks, it must be a well-run machine of efficiency. Easy in, easy out. Elevator to the top. Great view. They must have a system.

Not.

I arrived at the tower at a reasonably early hour. True, not the crack of dawn, but nonetheless, I wasn’t dragging that day!

And the line… well, I’m not sure where it started or even if I got to the right end of it. I just hooked on to an unending snake of tourists speaking every language and waited for (I think) the ticket line.

And waited. It was a lovely sunny day, with a brilliant blue sky and every tourist who ever wanted to come to France was here at this very moment.

I gazed at my map and guidebook. I could be here for hours. And I’m terrified of heights. Do I really want to go up, up, up and be in what is looking more and more like a rickety structure just to say I did it?

After about 40 minutes, I decide to take my lunch of bread and cheese to the adjacent park and come up with a new plan!

That plan involved visiting the Musee Carnavalet (the Paris museum) and the Place des Vosges, a square near Carnavelet that was built 400 years ago in perfect symmetry, with 36 houses of brick and stone (nine on each side).

My friend Laura had recommended both -- she was right.

Victor Hugo lived and wrote "Les Miserables" here (although I didn’t visit his rooms).

And the park itself was lovely, again filled with people enjoying shady benches and sunny lawns, some with books, some with friends.

I took a few minutes to feed the birds that gathered at my feet as I finished off my lunch bread, glad that I’d saved some.

The Musee Carnavalet is devoted to the history of Paris and is comprised of adjoining mansions. A small but formal garden greets you.

I know I keep harping on the gardeners I see in Paris, but really, they do a marvelous job on often massive tasks.

Entire rooms are decorated with the paneling and elaborate ceilings (similar to Vaux le Vicomte)...

...rooms include furniture vignettes (this blue and white room particularly charmed me)...

(Isn't this screen great?)

...while galleries feature paintings and artifacts depicting Parisian life and history.

Others demonstrate daily life, like this depiction of the tools of the apothecary's trade.

I am fascinated by beautiful rooms. This would be a lovely one to spend some time in -- although I can't say that sofa looks all that comfy!

I was impressed by the groups of school children in their red hats, clustered around a teacher who told them about certain pieces of art.

(I would see these red hats elsewhere!)

The museum was immaculate, but I had to chuckle at this little diarama -- note the position of the little dog! Someone (perhaps one of those school children!) jostled it!

Elegant marble stairways with elaborate murals move guests from floor to floor.

The wrap-around murals were especially beautiful.

And I love accessories -- the clocks, the paintings.

One of my favorite rooms was the Hotel d’Uzes Reception Room (1761) and the Louis XV room,which included much art and paneling.

These prints were part of a very large (and funny) series about the crinoline!

But my favorite was the Ballroom of the Hotel de Wendel, an early 20th century ballroom interior reconstructed to depict the retinue of the Queen of Sheba.

Of course there were numerous paintings from the era of Marie Antoinette and her contemporaries, as well as those of Josephine and her pals.

Carnavalet was a little gem and a free one at that. I was especially delighted that it was so close to Jerry’s, for by the end of the day, I was pretty tired!

Things I Learned Today:

Some of the best things in Paris are free – and those included Carnavalet, Place des Vosges, picnics in the park and the wonderful walks to get there.

Some things with admission end up not being worth the wait – at least to me.

A picnic in the park is a lovely way to watch people. (I was intrigued by a nanny and her charges. I wouldn’t have wanted to mess with her.)

Photographs – have I mentioned that in most museums in France you can take digital photos as long as you don’t use flash? They must be losing a fortune on post cards.

Three Churches

First of all, today is Bastille Day (and no, I didn't visit the Bastille, or the column that marks its spot, but this morning on NPR (Morning Edition) there is a feature about music related to the French Revolution for those into that!)

Well, after my visit to the Jardin du Luxembourg, I was only a few blocks from Saint-Sulpice, an enormous church built in 1646 (that took more than a century to build).

I first heard of Saint-Sulpice in The DaVinci Code – it was the church that the albino monk tore apart as he demolished the Rose Line on the floor and then killed the nun when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Needless to say, filming was not done at St. Sulpice (though I confess to being eager to check out the movie to see how close they came to getting it right!)

Act III of Massenet's Manon takes place there, too.

Much of the controversy has to do with the copper line, founded by Jean-Jacques Olier, who had it designed according to the Golden Mean of sacred geometry.

In Brown's controversial novel, chapters 19 and 22 echo the notions that the Sulpice meridian is the same as the Paris Meridian (in the novel called "the Rose Line") that the church was built on the site of a pagan temple, and that the seminary attached to the church was unorthodox.

In the years following the publication of the novel, tourists would sometimes be seen knocking on the floor near the obelisk, searching for hollow spaces.

Wikipedia takes a different view. They say the meridian line on the floor of Saint-Sulpice is not a part of the Paris Meridian.

According to wikipedia , that line and the obelisk are called "the gnomon." In 1727, the priest of Saint-Sulpice requested the construction of the gnomon to help him determine the time of the equinoxes and ultimately, Easter. A meridian line of brass was inlaid across the floor and ascending a white marble obelisk, nearly eleven meters high, at the top of which is a sphere surmounted by a cross. The obelisk is dated 1743.

In the south transept window a small opening with a lens was set up, so that a ray of sunlight shines onto the brass line. At noon on the winter solstice (December 21), the ray of light touches the brass line on the obelisk. At noon on the equinoxes (March 21 and September 21), the ray touches an oval plate of copper in the floor near the altar.

Constructed by the English clock-maker and astronomer Henry Sully, the gnomon was also used for various scientific measurements: This rational use may have protected Saint-Sulpice from being destroyed during the French Revolution.

The windows are large and arched and Delacroix murals are featured in the chapel.

While organ recitals are supposedly the thing to hear in this space, that I did not see. The church, however, was simply beautiful.

It was nearly dinner time and on the way back, I noticed a poster for a Vivaldi concert at Ste. Chappelle. This was the one church I wanted to see most of all, and the thought of hearing a concert there was so exciting I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Jerry.

After a lovely dinner at home (oh, it was so good)…

… we set off for Ste. Chappelle, just barely arriving in time to be seated. (The fellow at the door said after, we could go to the lower chapel, which was supposed to be where holy relics had been kept.)

The concert was by the Les Solistes Français, with Paul Rouger as the lead violinist. The septet included violin, viola, bass, cello and harpsichord, and from the first note, it was simply heavenly.
Imagine – you are sitting in this space.

... surrounded by enormous windows, still catching the early evening sun.

The chandeliers dim, the musicians walk to the front of the church...

... and begin to play for more than an hour.

And while I’d missed Rick more than once on this trip, it was at this moment that I became horribly homesick, knowing how much my classical music-loving partner would be cherishing this moment.

They don’t miss a note. The sound fills the church like something one would expect to hear as they prepare to enter heaven.

The light moves around the church as it gets a bit darker. And then it is over.

Of course I buy a CD...

... which Paul Rouger autographs!

But alas, it is too late to see the lower chapel. Jerry explains to a woman on site, and she makes a call, leaves our name and writes a note in French on our ticket stub. “Come back,” she says. “They’ll let you in.”

Did they? Stay tuned!

We walked back, stopping at one of Jerry’s favorite café’s in the Marais, called Les Marronniers (Chestnuts), where I had their drink of the day – an interesting cocktail with cucumber in it. Fresh and different.

Then we stopped in at St. Gervais, a large church behind the Hotel deVille. Eveything in this church was massive and far different from the elegant and light Ste. Chappelle. But it was beautiful.

The stone angels were particular favorites of mine, and I suspect they’ll find their way into a collage sometime soon.

(If you feel you can use the stone angel in your collage work, feel free to double click and she'll come out rather large and useful!)

I didn’t take photos of the chapel, as a group was in a prayer vigil there, but it was quiet, beautiful and peaceful.

By the time we got home, I was ready to crash. Gardens. Churches. Music. Café’s. It was a big day!

Things I Learned Today:

Sainte Chappelle was built to house “The Crown of Thorns” – a relic presumed to be from Christ’s cross and acquired by Louis IX in 1297 from the emperor of Constantinople. Louis paid more for the relic than he did for the construction of the church – nearly three times more.

It pays to read posters on walls and poles! You just might find a good concert!

Sampling a “drink of the day” at a café may be delicious and fun, but I wish I’d had the wine – the might have seemed a little more French. Or maybe not!

People watching is simply glorious!

Jardin du Luxembourg

I wish I’d had time to visit more of Paris’ gardens. The city has more public green spaces than most cities of its size, including some where residents can plant gardens.

One place I enjoyed a great deal was Jardin du Luxembourg, or Luxembourg Gardens. It had come highly recommended by several friends and blog buddies. My guide book says it is the "most used" park in Paris. I don't know if that's true, but many were enjoying it while I was there!

I later learned it was one of the most popular in Paris, with not only a beautiful open space and fountains, but more formal garden beds, a puppet theatre (which I missed), tennis courts and other recreational areas as well.

When one enters (at least from the direction I did), they immediately encounter the famous Medici Fountain.

The architect of this Baroque fountain is unknown, but the mythological figures were added in 1886 by August Ottin. The fountain tells a romantic Greek myth, with the figures in a sculpted grotto at the end of a long, narrow pool.

I was pleased to see young artists dabbling in their sketchbooks, and so I did the same -- a little sketch of this railing (but it's definitely not yet ready for prime time!)

People gathered by the shaded fountain simply to sit and talk, enjoy a bit of a treat (have I mentioned people in Paris eat all the time?) and simply revel in the beauty of the fountain.

Every bit of detail was lovely. I also did a rough sketch of the top of the grotto. Again, the photo is far better!

Deeply romantic and powerful, I simply could not resist shooting lots of photos! (These could turn into Rick’s Valentine’s card someday!)

As I sat by the fountain with my pen and journal in hand, I couldn’t help but be aware of music coming from the bandstand. “Thriller.” “9-5.” “Goldfinger.” “Staying Alive.” It was the top 40 of the 70s through the 80s, played by what sounded like a concert band. And very out of place!

I couldn’t resist an excursion to check it out and learned it was a group from a high school in Glasgow!

The Medici Fountain isn’t the only beautiful spot of Luxembourg Gardens. An enormous castle, completed in 1631 by Salomen de Brosse and based on Florence’s Pitti Palace, was built for Queen Marie de Medicis (Henri IV’s widow), but she was banished before it was completed. (The painter David was held in prison here.)

Now used for the French Senate, the castle stands at one end of the park, and in front of it is a large pool with yet another fountain.

Beds of flowers surround it, carefully tended by the French gardeners I had come to respect.

And chairs. Lots of chairs. People reading, talking, eating, listening to music. Laying on the grass, obviously in love – or lust. It is Paris, after all.

A large modern statue stands at the top of steps leading from one level to another.

While in another spot, a more classical tribute to the artist Delacroix is featured.

And the ever-present St. Genevieve, patron saint of Paris, is included as well. She was a wealthy fifth century Gallo-Roman landowner. When Paris was invaded by the Huns, she prayed with friends for the city to be spared. When her prayers were answered, she became the saint. The station is by Michel-Luis Victor from 1845.

This photo isn't much to write home about, but do you see the spikes at the top? One will see spikes all over buildings and statues in France -- it prevents pigeons from resting there!

Even the dogs are cared for. Although this photo is fuzzy, you see the dog drinking from a tupperware-type tub under a spigot.

Dogs. Have I mentioned the dogs yet? You can’t go anywhere in France without having canine companions at hand. The parks, the café’s, the city streets. I was told that a simple beggar would be passed by (and there were plenty of them), but a beggar with a dog was almost guaranteed to get a coin or two from thoughtful passersby.

The favorite seems to be the Jack Russell, but I see dogs of all breeds – mostly small or medium in size.

There was more to come that afternoon and evening – but that’s for another post!

Things I Learned Today:

People in Paris really use their parks. They are crowded and while tourists are certainly present, they were far from the only users of the Jardin du Luxembourg.

One can find a concert at the drop of a hat. Maybe in a park, maybe in a church, maybe on a street.

People are very friendly. If one simply tries their best with what little French they have, the French will come to their aid.

Pink Purses in Paris

It's nice to be back to a Pink Saturday -- with new material!

All the purses featured here were taken in shop windows of Paris boutiques and shops in the wholesale district. Pink was definitely in!

For more Pink Posts, visit Beverly at How Sweet the Sound.

(I couldn't decide which of these I liked best!)

"Which did I buy?" you might ask. Alas, none of them! But I saved my euros for the flea markets! More on that coming soon!

A Chateau

Most visitors to France, cameras in hand and seeking a chateau for their visiting pleasure, may choose Versailles -- and that was tempting!

But we decided to visit a place Jerry really enjoyed -- Chateau de Vaux le Vicomte, located near Melun, about an hour south of Paris. Completed in 1661 for Nicolas Fouquet, the superintendent of finances for Louis XIV, it is a massive series of buildings, including a carriage house (with a carriage display), the main chateau and formal gardens.


Designed by architect Louis Le Vau and landscape architect Andre le Notre, the decorator was Charles Le Brun. Bad photo composition but you get the idea of the elaborate painted ceilings.

Wikipedia says "Their collaboration marked the beginning of a new order: the magnificent manner that is associated with the "Louis XIV style" involving a system of collective work, which could be applied to the structure, its interiors and works of art and the creation of an entire landscape."

When Fouquet purchased the estate in 1641, he was an ambitious member of Parliament, and at the age of 26, cultivated the arts and artists. After becoming Louis XIV's superintendent of finances, he commissioned the team to renovate the estate and garden.

One enters the estate through a dramatic arbor of trees, at the end of which the chateau comes into view.

The first stop is the livery stables, where an impressive display of carriages is featured.

Even the gas lights outside the building were rather grand.

Then on to the house itself. No, not house. I live in a house. This was indeed a chateau.

Everything here is very grand -- it was indeed a mini-Versailles in some ways, with elaborate furniture, use of mirrors, beautiful furniture and of course lots of gold.

The story has it that the beauty and extravagance of the chateau is what led to the downfall of Fouquet. Fouquet hosted a gala that included a Moliere play, a grand dinner, and full use of the finest china, crystal and accoutrements of grandeur. "Nothing is too good for the king," he may have thought.

He thought wrong. The celebration was so over the top that the Louis XIV believed his minister had been misappropriating public funds. He was arrested, acquitted and despite the acquittal, was imprisoned for life, after the king overturned the judgment.

(Louis, however, so appreciated the skill of Le Vau, Le Notre and Le Brun, that he commissioned them to design the palace and gardens of Versailles!)

The chateau has had subsequent owners and now is a private property, which of course is open for a rather hefty admission to help maintain the estate.

Maintain the estate. Here was the first element of "great attraction gone wrong." Yes, it was beautiful. Yes, the furniture was lovely, the mirrors glistened. The fabrics were sumptuous.

But you'd think they'd remove the cobwebs. Fairly unsightly and obvious ones, too. One didn't have to look to find them. We may not have seen the dust on the books in this library, but don't fool yourself -- it was there -- and on the chandelier, too.

The walls were a mess. I understand completely not repairing wallpaper or possibly chipped paint if the job can't be done up to restoration standards. But my Mr. Clean magic eraser (or any one of a number of more gentle solvents) would have easily taken the grime and dirt from the walls. It was very depressing. This bit of wallpaper was clean. I wish more bits were as tidy.

(If you click on it, you should get it larger to save and use in your work if you like!)

And the final element that sort of had us reeling was the "Disneyfication" of the place. Many of the rooms, such as this one, were in a pure and lovely state.

But others had maniquins with mouths that moved stiffly and poorly, telling the story of Fouquet's downfall.

In only one place did this work. In the grand ballroom, a movie took place behind the arch you see below. Several of the maniquins were in front (but didn't talk). In the movie, you saw and heard a dance, and it looked very lifelike -- as though you were peeking in on the dance from the chamber in front of the door.

We climbed to the top of the dome -- rickety, but with quite a view.

Have I mentioned that heights aren't my thing? You'd better believe I clung to that post!

Neither are windy spiral staircases!

But the view was lovely and one could see the gardens on one side, the moat, the carriage house, and the roadway.

(Frankly, these gardens don't do it to me like Monet's. Too contrived, too tidy. But I certainly had grand respect for the design.)


And, if the name of the chateau rings a slight bell with you, it may be that it was the site of "Desperate Housewives" star Eva Longoria and San Antonio Spurs player Tony Parker's wedding. (Could you imagine Eva on these steps?)

Would I recommend it? Maybe. It was certainly beautiful and I was glad I went. But before you shell out the hefty admission fee, you might want to think about if this is really the spot you want to visit. Even if the backgammon board is very cool!

Things I Learned Today:
Sometimes it's best to leave spots like this to traditional showings and give the Disney elements a pass.

I prefer the quiet simplicity of places like Monet's home to the elaborate glitz of a place like this.

Action figures in gift shops of places like this seem very out of place!

And I really should have bought a better camera before I left.

Normandy: Sobering, Beautiful

One of the places I had longed to visit in France was Omaha Beach and the Norman countryside. And, I must admit, my reasons for doing so were both historical and personal.

Several years ago, WKAR produced two World War II documentaries, one of which focused on the European theatre. During the course of production, I edited transcripts of many veterans who had served and shared their experiences. (You can see them here if you're interested.)

Several spoke of D-Day and Normandy and the coastal towns they lived and fought in following the invasion. It had indeed become personal.

Our trip to Normandy began early on a Sunday morning, with a fairly long drive, punctuated by stops at town "foires" -- a combination of town flea market and fair with rides and food.

(More on these in another post on flea markets, but I had some fun finds!)

Our first destination was the Omaha Beach Museum. It was fairly small, but with lots of artifacts, clippings, photographs and life-size diarama scenes.

The pieces in the museum told the story --

...from the landing to the resistance.

The emphasis wasn't on the equipment used (although there were certainly examples of the various arms and mortars, uniforms and helmets),

... but of the people who fought so bravely.

From there we moved on to the American Cemetery. This is truly hallowed ground, and it is impossible not to be moved by the elegant symmetry and simplicity of this final resting place for so many American soldiers.

I was particularly touched by flowers, left behind. Long past their peak, they remain, memorials and testimonials to a given soldier from -- who knows? A family member? A friend? A comrade in arms?

The cemetery is set on a high bluff overlooking Omaha Beach. I'm not sure you can tell from the photo just how far and how high that bluff is, but to be arriving on a boat in wretched weather, knowing the enemy was waiting for you on that bluff had to be frightening indeed.

Think of running up sand dunes -- it isn't easy. Add full fighting gear. It must have been a daunting task.

Now there are steps going down to the beach. Lots of them. Many of the pilgrims to the cemetery went down, as did I. Simply touching the sand, feeling that ground that had touched the feet of soldiers 65 years ago, was a sobering and moving experience.

And for some reason, the only family having a picnic here had a young girl in the family, who delighted in the broad expanse of beach. To me, she represented the purity, the future. After all, isn't it family we fight for most of all?

After leaving Omaha Beach and a stop at a German stronghold, we passed by this old church, named (as so many churches are in France) "Notre Dame."

It had been damaged in the war, and soldiers restored it.

I was rather capitvated by its stone work...

...and the heavy wooden door.

Then it was off to the beach at Arromanches, where some old German boat hulls, rusted and covered with algae, still rest in the waters at the shoreline.

One could easily visualize the soldiers in combat in these treacherous waters.

Our dinner destination was the town of Honfleur, about two hours away, perhaps. It's a port town, with LeHarve on the other side.

We expected it to be the quietly bustling town Jerry remembered. But they were in the middle of a music festival and it was more than a bit manic!

Finally, after 11 p.m., we found an outdoor restaurant on the water.

A look at the menu yielded promising options!

And of course, I had to sample the escargot! I'd been dying to try snails since long before my trip began, inspired by a commentary in Peter Mayle's book "French Lessons."

And oh, he was so very right! Succulent, delicious. Garlic and herbs with that bit of snail. I'd do it again in a heartbeat!

Things I Learned Today:

Snails. Yum.

The writing "s/" means "sur" or "on the" -- "Sur La Mer" might be written s/Mer. Lots of the towns here were on the sea.

There are several women (nurses) buried in the American Cemetery.

I really never expected to be so moved as I was by a place such as this.

The best raspberries I've ever eaten were found at a foire en route to Normandy. I wish I had more!

Day Three: GIverny -- A Little Bit of Paradise

How can one be any happier than stepping into a bit of paradise, filled with flowers, water, and beauty?

On Friday, we headed to Giverny -- it was a flawless day. The sky was bright, with just enough puffy white clouds to make it seem all the more picturesque. Our destination was Giverny, home of Money and the inspirational site of his garden.

(For a wonderful post about Giverny and Monet -- among other things -- visit Linda at The Task at Hand.)

Personally, I was grateful that we just made it out of the city, given the drivers who always need to be in the lane they are not, and just cut in front of other drivers without using blinkers. I was very freaked -- especially in a borrowed car!

And the legendary motor scooters we heard so much about during the period after Diana died were everywhere. Two cars could be side by side and the scooter would go between. At least they wore helmets; the tons of bicyclists didn't.

The road to Giverny was lovely -- France is very unlike America in that there doesn't appear to be sprawl, with one city bumping up into another.

There is a town with a church steeple and town buildings (the boulangerie being a "must") and then farm land until another steeple marks the next town.

Giverny is really a little town in itself. (I always thought it was the name of Monet's house.) Charming as all get-out, but I'd hate to live there -- one would never get a breath of peace from the tourists.

Monet's home and garden were unbelievably beautiful and I think will be more so in another month when all the flowers that were just starting to hit their stride are in full bloom.

There was a good deal of pink (so I'll save some of the Giverny pix for Pink Saturday!). Wonderful poppies were a pinkish/purple color.

Beautiful old fashioned roses grew precisely, yet with an abandonment that made them almost look wild.

Jerry chatted with the gardeners about the poppies. I so admire the work they do to make this place such a haven.

To get to the lily pond, one crossed a tunnel under the road. And the water lilies that so inspired his paintings do not disappoint.

Even Monet's house was pink (and green), fitting beautifully into the springtime garden!

Here's a true story. At MSU we have a Japanese bridge inspired by the Monet's Garden bridge.

I'm told the designer discretely chipped a bit of paint from a visit to Giverny to match for MSU's bridge! (Both of these bridges are from Giverny, not MSU!)

Oh, to be here in July or August, when the summer heat and all that water have blended together for the perfect combination of colors. Yes, we were early, but it was still lovely.

Monet had a passion for Japan and its artists, and it was this passion that inspired him to build the bridge. Later, when we would go inside we would learn that he collected the work of Japanese artists Hiroshige and Utamaro and others and displayed many of them in his home. We saw a lot of them, and perhaps it was this that inspired me to purchase a Japanese print later in the trip at Vanves! (More on that later!)

It was a glorious day -- sunny, blue skies, puffy clouds. Jerry and I were snapping photos like crazy people (like all the other "crazy people" there!). Then someone took one of us!

My only disappointment about the garden was that we were still too early for the abundant lavender wisteria that is seen in all the postcards. Oh, well.

The house was interesting. Definitely "museum style," and I was a bit frustrated not to be able to photograph it. When you enter, you can go to either the dining room or the reading room (we chose that direction). It is blue and included the Japanese engravings and print collected by Monet between 1871 and 1926.


The studio living room was large, but all the furniture was shoved (gracefully) to the end of the room. Reproductions of his work hung on the walls, including the current point of exhibition. I couldn't decide if I thought that looked tacky or was interesting.

The bedrooms were very nice...... but what really knocked my socks off were the dining room and kitchen. The dining area was Jeanie Yellow, with more blue Japanese prints on the wall and a pristine white table cloth. Of course I loved it madly!
The kitchen had an enormous stove, racks of brightly polished copper and walls of dazzling blue and white tiles. (The paint on the trim and the tiles really clashed a bit -- not quite the right shades of blue -- but I still loved it.

Unfortunately, we couldn't photograph inside the house (so I bought a calendar!). But you could take photos of the gardens from the second story window. What a view! (Most of the photos above are from Monet Foundation. The large one of the stove is from Mae at Mae's Food.)

After, we walked about the village, capturing photos of hollyhocks against stone walls...

...delicately patterned lace curtains behind shuttered windows...

...and more flowers. Everywhere flowers.

We also went to the church cemetery where Monet was buried. It was fascinating to see an old French cemetery with beatuful stone and ironwork.

These ceramic pieces are often placed on tombstones in lieu of flowers. Beautiful but not my taste.

As we left, we stopped by a poster just to make sure Zoe got into the act. Joanne had suggested bringing her along. And I confess, as I'd look in my purse pocket, between maps and brochures, I would always smile to see her wings peeking out!

After driving through villages and towns, with their cobblestone streets and stone buildings, not to mention the beautiful rural French countryside with flocks of sheep...

I loved this guy...

And after a few misses, we hit a perfect spot for our picnic, overlooking the Seine at a charming town called La Roche-Guyon.

We were in the shadow of a chateau with a huge tower and lovely restaurant and cafe...

I'm sure the cafe's food was terrific, but nothing could have compared with our sandwich bought at the boulangerie this morning, apples and camembert, bread, croissant sticks, apricots and nuts.

And wine. Very nice wine (Chateau Haut-Balerac, Madoc 2003, a very good year!)

It was truly perfect.

As we returned home, we came in on the same stretch of underpass on which Diana died. Jerry knows someone who knew the doctor who stopped to help and was often interviewed after the accident. After seeing the motorbikes and how they drive around here, just the speed people drive, and then the pressure they must have been under, it was so very easy to see how that happened.

It was a grand day!

Things I learned today:

Madoc 2003 is a wine worth pursuing again!

The sprawl problem doesn't seem to be here. Villages and towns are not linked by strip malls and Wal-Mart.

Don't wear sandals to a place with stones and pebbles everywhere.

Parking in Paris is almost impossible. After Jerry dropped me off, it took him two hours to find a spot to park.

Independence Day

A brief American diversion for me, as I take a break from France to acknowledge America's Independence Day, doing the things so many of us do on the holiday.

For me it will probably include watching the Boat Parade on Otsego Lake, meeting up with Rick halfway through his 100-mile bike ride in the tiny town of Central Lake, where we'll have a picnic and enjoy the town parade (which always reminds me of Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon), and fireworks at the lake. No doubt grilling will be involved somewhere along the way!

We'll return to France in the next post, but I thought to illustrate Independence Day, I'd share this flag from the Omaha Beach Museum in Normandy.

It reminds us all of what our soldiers did to help preserve independence for Europe in World War II with this image from the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach. (And continue to do today, elsewhere.)

The flags at the cemetery, which overlooks Omaha Beach where so many died 65 years ago, dot the pristine crosses and Stars of David that seem to stretch on into infinity. It's sobering, striking, beautiful. And so very peaceful.

(And, I was reminded that the French did play a significant role in America's independence, as well. Maybe it was "paybacks" some 200 years later.

I'll share more about my reflections from Normandy in a few days, but leave you to celebrate Independence Day with a nod to all who help others win independence and freedom, everywhere.

Day Two -- Cluny, Shakespeare, Paris at Night

On day two -- Thursday -- I visited what was my favorite museum of the trip. The Musee National du Moyen Age.

It was a late start -- sleeping till noon and really not getting out till about three. (After waking and getting going, we had one of our lengthy telephone conversations with Air France. Or rather, Jerry talked with them. More would be coming...)

So, off we went, past the Pompidou Centre (and modern art museum, which to my mind was the ugliest building of all time. I couldn't even take a photo of it. This was the fountain in front of it. It would be fine in the right spot -- in Paris, it seemed all round.

Then a stop into Sainte Merri, a beautiful church that was worth every moment spent. (That's in the background of the ugly fountain.)

Churches are everywhere. Old.Massive. Filled with wonderful art. This one didn't disappoint.

(Now I'm panicking because I'm not sure if all of these are Saint Merri or if Notre Dame got mixed up in there! Purists, I am on guard for your input!)

We headed to the Left Bank and the Musee national du Moyen Age (aka Cluny) -- all medieval wonder including the renowned "Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries. This was my favorite museum of them all. In fact, after Cluny, everything else just sort of seemed like "a museum" to me. Lovely, certainly, and with wonderful art. But fairly typical.

The "Lady and the Unicorn" was simply astounding, representing the five senses and the sixth showing the lady renouncing the senses for purity. They are enormous, beautifully stitched and completely filling a large, rounded, darkened room (which is why the photos are a bit tinted and blurry, but I had to share at least one).

Other highlights included magnificent stained glass...

Many carved pieces, like this triptych...

Ancient busts...
And artifacts from daily life.

Given that it was the middle ages, many of the items had religious themes. I loved the books and very old sheet music.

The stone walls were striking.

The area was once the residence of the abbots of Cluny and was built on the ruins of Roman baths, starting is 1330 and continuing till 1485-1500. The vaulted ribs in a room that was once part of the Roman baths were stunning.

Another gallery included figurative sculpture from the facade of Notre Dame, including twelve heads of Kings of Judah from the Gallery of Kings.

The art and music of the middle ages has always inspired me. Cluny did not disappoint, from its exterior to the beautiful things within.

En route, I couldn't help but notice the bikes for rent (Velib) that are available throughout the city.

Rick would be in seventh heaven -- some of the time is "free" and the other rates were reasonable.

And, in spots, there are well-designated bike lanes.

Having said all that, I've gotta say that it totally freaked me out that I saw only a (literal) handful of helmets during my visit. No more than 10 total. Call me hypersensitive after Rick's multiple bike accidents and skull fractures, but the way people drove around there, I feared for them all.

Jerry had to work so after a crossant in the park (and my first visit to the grocery store -- more on that in another post), I continued on, returning to Shakespeare and Company to dig a bit more.

The books are in English...

...and on the second floor, none are for sale, just for reading on site!

Lots of clips, writing on the walls...

...and nooks with notes that remind one of its heritage.

But I had to run catch the bus to meet Jerry and friends of his for dinner. I got on the right line, passing the Louvre, Tuilleries, Place de Concord and more, with the Eifel Tower becoming larger and larger as we progressed.

But soon I realized it was TOO big -- I had overshot my stop (by quite a bit!) and backtracked!

Jerry's friends Gail and Benoit were loaning us their car for our weekend road trips, so we met them for dinner at TribecA, a cafe/restaurant. My dinner included a salad with fried goat cheese for 9 euros and creme brulee for six. Excellent. (Later I would take photos of my food; not tonight!)

After we parted, Jerry drove me around Paris at night -- the Eifel tower was lit and lovely.

We drove over the bridge under which Diana died and saw the memorial where people brought flowers...

...and then went up the Champs Elysee and say the Arch du Triomphe lit and beautiful.

I could imagine the Tour de France guys riding into Paris under this arch!

Off to bed. The feet were still holding up and the hideous shoes making up in comfort for what they lacked in style.

Things I learned today:

Missing your bus stop can be an unfortunate mistake.

Dogs are everywhere. Lots of Jack Russells, and mostly small or medium-sized dogs.

In Paris, driving is really scary. Being a passenger is scary, too. Truly, "maniac" seems the right word to describe Parisians behind the wheel.

The helmet thing -- or lack thereof. For a pretty enlightened society with great food, the cars, motorbikes and lack of helmets seem like a death wish!

Home Again! Day One -- Getting There!

Well, that ended up being a longer vacation than I expected -- but a very good one indeed! (And I want to thank you for stopping in and leaving comments; I didn't have reliable internet access while I was gone, and I missed posting and checking up on you all!)

The day of my trip was a sunny one. I left Lansing on time, boarding my bus for Detroit!

Then I was pleased when the monitor said my plane was on time.

They lied. If you read Rick's comment a couple posts back, you'll know I had numerous snafus just getting out of Detroit, with canceled flights (followed the next day by a three-hour-plus line, computer problems, and more). I have plenty to say about this, but I'll spare you...!

(Above is the line waiting to check in the second day -- a line that I was in for more than three hours because the computer didn't register our flight. Below is the angry mob when the fight was canceled, as passengers waited to get hotel assignments.)

But finally, we were off! And some eight hours later, I could look out the window and see the French countryside.

When I finally hit Paris, I was thrilled in more ways than one!

Jerry met me at the airport and we took the train back into Paris. It dropped us about eight blocks or so from his apartment, which was located in a lovely courtyard behind massive blue doors on the street.

Sandwiched between wholesale shops on a busy street these doors (and the many others like them) don't reveal the beauty that lies behind them.

The apartment was in one of the buildings opening up on this charming courtyard. This window belonged to the guardien.

It's very small, but oh, so charming with his collection of antiques and flea market finds throughout.

Above and below are the living room.

The kitchen was tiny, but with its antique egg baskets, molds, and tools (not to mention the flowers), one could learn to work with the small space!

Talk about someone with good taste and style -- it was all packed into this wonderful spot.Jerry graciously loaned me his bedroom.

From the bed, I had this rooftop view!

(The 85 steps to the fourth (or American fifth) floor were less fun!

(The good thing about this is that my pants that started out short ended up the right length when I was ready to leave, and the ones that were the right length when I started were so long I kept tripping on them, having to lift them gently like a Victorian lady lifting her skirts at the curb! I wish I could say that translated into weight loss -- my friends say it turned fat to muscle. Hey, whatever works!)

Jerry lives in an area called "The Marais" and it is convenient to many wonderful spots. So, after briefly settling in, we headed out to spots near his apartment so I could get my bearings.I would have been completely content staying in the neighborhood, though that would have been wrong! Below is the Mayor's office, the Hotel de Ville.

The shops next to his building and in adjacent blocks catered to wholesale buyers only (a darned shame, because there were a ton of cute purses there, which I'll talk about some Pink Saturday!)

About six blocks away was BHV department store, which was unlike any department store I'd seen before! An art department to rival Michael's, great books and CDs and cards; electronics; appliances (like washing machines); furniture and mattresses; great clothing labels; a cafe; beautiful housewares and bath and the basement was like a mini Home Depot, with lumber sales and every tool imaginable! I was in heaven!

Then we crossed the river to the Ile de Cite and went to Notre Dame! Oh, so very beautiful!

The majesty of these churches are astounding, as is are the stone carvings on the facade. They are massive and beautiful.

When you think churches like this (and the thousands of others in Paris) were built before engineers had computers to figure out weight-bearing and cranes to lift heavy materials, they become all the more majestic. And the windows bring bright splashes of rich colors to the more somber stone interiors.

We headed over to the left bank, where book stalls line the sidewalk by the Seine, selling postcards, old books, and art. I don't know that there were great deals here, but they were fun!


Shakespeare and Company is there, too -- a bookstore that was a haunt of Hemingway, Fitzgerald and so many others. It was a must on my list and I returned there several times.

Back to the Square in front of Notre Dame, where we fed the birds -- sparrows land on your finger to snatch a bit of bread. It was then we discovered an organ concert would take place at the church that evening, and we put it on our "to do" list!


Next up, the flower market stalls -- several buildings with all sorts of fabulous flowers, seeds and garden accessories.

Jerry pointed out landmarks and we headed home, stopping (again) at one of the Paris boulangeries for bread. Oh, I loved these places! While he went to work, I took a nap! Boy, I needed it!

That evening after dinner at home, we went to the organ concert at Notre Dame. It was absolutely amazing to hear that huge organ open up anad fill the church with music. Neither of us were terribly fond of the (more contemporary) selections, so we left early (people were going in and out all the time) and walked a bit, enjoying sorbet cones and sunset on the Seine. It was a wonderful way to start the trip.

Things I have learned so far:

Every street has at least one bakery (sometimes more) per block and generally a flower shop is within striking distance.

The Parisians eat on the street -- a lot. Everyone is always munching on a chunk of bread or a croissant or roll. Fat, thin, young, old. It's what you do.

The streets are treacherous in that there are lots of cobblestones and they are very uneven. That observation was reinforced more than once as I'd step on a cobblestone and it wouldn't be flat enough so I'd either trip or fall!

(Next time: The Lady and the Unicorn and more!)