Our first day in Paris! We slept in and enjoyed unpacking, setting up house in our lovely apartment. We found the coffee and were pleasantly surprised that it was delicious! See, we have imported CDM (Cafe du Monde) coffee from the beignet cafe in the French Quarter by the same name for eons. It is very strong and full-flavored, but so was the Tazza coffee Raymonde had supplied for us. Paris and good coffee! We were blessed! We gradually woke up and prepared for the day's outing, the Musee d'Orsay, known for its large collection of Impressionist work. Following the advice we had received that carrying cash really wasn't necessary, that we could use our credit cards for everything, we set off for the metro station.
The transportation system in Paris is impressive. I loved how the bus stops were marked and followed by the drivers, no stopping here, there and everywhere. Each had a name and there were maps on the stops showing the routes of the lines that stopped there. Also available are maps of all sizes of all the systems from metro to bus and train lines. Our apartment was located about 15 yards from the metro station and just a little farther from the bus stop.
We headed to the metro station. About to be tested were several pieces of advice we had received. First was the existence of the Carte Orange, a transportation pass that allows you to get on and off busses and metro cars and travel around the city without having to buy individual tickets. Secondly, that we would have no problem with the fact that we don't speak French. "Between English or Spanish, you will be able to communicate, especially using your Spanish." So we arrive at the bank of ticketing machines and attempt to buy two Carte Orange, but the machine doesn't seem to want to accept our credit card. So to the Information lady and, you guessed it, she doesn't speak English or Spanish but she speaks French very quickly and somehow in the stream of words after pointing to the picture of the Carte orange on her door, Bob understands that it no longer exists. So, back to the machines where we now need to buy four tickets using the few Euros we had from our exchange with the red cap at the airport in Mexico City. But first we try another machine to see if it will accept out credit card for purchasing regular tickets. About this time a lady stops to ask if she can help us. At least we took it that she wanted to help because she, too, spoke only French. She listened to us explain (I think we were using Spanish which is our default language when speaking with someone who doesn't speak English) and then she went to the information lady and questioned her as to why we couldn't buy the Carte Orange. We stood there smiling apologetically as she got the same message, "Finí." It is finished. Then she helps us buy our four tickets all the time speaking a steady stream of French, none of which we could understand but it did not bother her. She was so nice we just listened and smiled (it was like our Spearhead days all over again). She gave us our tickets, one to me, one to Bob and the extras to him as well and we followed in tow behind her to the ticket turnstile. At last! Something we knew! You put your ticket in and the turnstile opens to admit you. But wait! Bob put in his ticket and the thing didn't move. So our helper reached up midway on the machine where his ticket had magically reappeared, took it out and handed it to him, explaining, what we did not know, but we got it that he should put it in his pocket and keep it. Por que? Quien sabe. So much for looking like we knew what we were doing in some part of the process. Soon the three of us were doing the walk/run to the metro platform but another problem surfaced. These doors had latches on them or at least they appeared to have latches on them (as opposed to the automatic doors on the Mexican metro car) so we had to watch someone open the door to figure it out. Once inside our French helper contined chatting happily at us. Then her face got serious. She lowered her voice (because at least everyone else in the car understood what she was saying) and gave me some sort of instruction. When she patted her large purse and put it in front of her I knew exactly what she was telling me. I knew she was instructing me to watch my purse on the metro line. It was like Spearhead all over again.
We arrived at the museum a bit breathless and somewhat worn out by our simple purchasing of four metro tickets to find that, yes, they accepted our credit card at the museum. But not at the sandwich place afterward which meant walking the streets until we found a regular restaurant which would. Tomorrow we would exhange money and not be left penniless or Euroless (which equals a whole lotta pennies) as we walked the streets of Paris.
But in the meantime we found the room we wanted to start in, the one with Vincent Van Gogh and spent an entire afternoon drinking in the colors and brush strokes, the Art Nouveau furniture, and the building itself that is the Musee d'Orsay. What a way to begin our Parisian education. If only I had asked Antoine Barois for some language lessons before leaving Mexico. Well, maybe next time.
First I need to introduce Emilia to you. She came to work for us eleven years ago when her son Victor was a baby. The day after she began working for us her husband abandoned her, her 14-year-old son and her baby, about 7 months-old. Emilia has had a hard life. She had to drop out of elementary school in second grade when her mother died. Being the only girl in the family she had to help with the cooking and cleaning and such. Consequently Emilia is uneducated in such things as how to read a map but is a good mother and wise in many practical things of life.
I needed to tell you this before you look at the following photo from our trip. Look closely at it. What would you answer if someone asked you "What do you see in this photo?"
After I finished preparing the Smilebox of photos from the trip I played it for Emilia during lunch one day so she could see where we had gone and what we had done, trying to explain it all to her. When this photo came up her comment was, "My! That man sure does have some white tennis shoes!" I laughed out loud! She had washed his tennis shoes for Bob just for him to take on our trip. In the Hall of Mirrors Emilia saw white tennis shoes.
of Jet Lag
Continuing to follow the injunction to push through the jet lag, we went to Versailles on Wednesday. I think we thought we were ready for a full day trip but we realized we had not yet made the transition out of jet lag within two hours after arriving to the ChateauVersailles. Bob bought tickets for general admission into the estate and also purchased the guided tour which would mean going with a smaller group into the royal family's private suite of rooms and apartments, areas not open to the general public mainly because they keep a close watch on those entering these areas reminding people not to lean against ornately carved and guilded walls or to sit on the furniture.
While waiting for our tour time we strolled with the rest of the crowd through the museum. It was packed with people. We shuffled from one room to the next until we were just ready to be done. Bob went for baguette sandwiches and drinks and we ate lunch on the steps of the ticketing offices. We enjoyed the quieter smaller group on the private tour but by the time we were done with a thorough viewing of the interior of the palace and went to buy tickets for the small train that would take us to other parts of the huge property, we were exhausted. I think the change in altitude from Mexico City combined with the jet lag left us dragging for a longer time than if we only had dealt with jet lag alone. At any rate, this is the one thing I would have changed about our trip. I would have gone to Versailles after our bodies had acclimated because I would have loved to spend the whole day investigating all the gardens on the grounds of the estate. I would love to return to stroll through all the outdoor "rooms" set into the wooded and hedged areas. I would love to spend an afternoon visiting Marie Antoinette's private world that began with the gift of The Petit Trianon for her personal use and gradually became her own little world of garden and working farm and hamlet put together by her architect and artistic director following her plans. But, while we enjoyed the ride on the tiny motorized "train," we had no energy left for getting out and exploring the grounds further. I even had to make myself walk out to the end of the reflecting pools to take a few photos. If we ever return.
http://en.chateauversailles.fr If you are a visit to the chateau, check out this excellent web site.
Before we went to Paris we read as much info as we could get and had time for. In several places we read about the open markets of Paris and that Parisians do a bulk of their weekly fresh grocery buying in these markets. An open market is not a new concept to us. In Mexico City there are thousands of these ambulatory markets that set up one day a week in a neighborhood, some larger than others. In our neighborhood we have a tianguis (tee-AHN-geese) that sets up a short block away from our house. You can buy vegetables, fruit, meat, there's a stand or two of clothes and toys and one of household goods like plastic market bags, strainers, and colanders. At the opposite end of ours is the "restaurant section": stands where movable restaurants have set up in which you can get all kinds of tacos, tlacoyos, sopes, tostadas of everything from tinga to fried shark. So, we wanted to see the Parisian version.
The open market in the Vaugirard neighborhood sets up on Convention street, a tree lined boulevard (our tianguis sets up on a tree-lined boulevard). The open market, however, did not block off any part of the street and so was situated on both sides of the street and was much larger than our tianguis, extending far up the street. It was beginning to drizzle as we walked to the market which made it somehow more cozy, more romantic (which would probably have made the locals laugh their heads off if they had known my thoughts about their market), but don't we always see some everyday things set in certain "foreign" places in this light? Some of my romantic notions were squashed when I saw pretty much the same type of stuff one sees for sale on makeshift stands in Mexico: a table of CDs (though I wish now I had bought one of early era Parisian music), one of socks and stockings, a costume jewelry/watch vendor (but nothing very interesting), plastic kitchen wares, pretty much the usual just in a very distant place so my initial reaction was, oh, phooey, not much different. Then we hit the food section and it changed. Not that vegetables are very different and Mexico has some unusual fruit available for sale, but I think that "what" is for sale for everyday use tells you something about a people, what attracts them (huge would be my guess and colorful), and what their diet is like (varied and expensive. There were some unusual tomatoes (photo in Smilebox) that at first we thought to be small pumpkins. There were stands of different types of garlic, fresh garlic.
There were displays of mushrooms of many different types, sizes and colors. We had hoped to buy a roast chicken for our supper but they were too expensive. We also wanted to sample some different types of cheese so we found the large stand of the cheese vendor and began to look. Having found several cheeses we wanted to try we geared up for the task of actually buying them. The lady nearest us seemed to be hoping either her sister or brother would finish with their transactions first but finally decided that she was the one who would have to deal with us. By this time we already knew the answer to our question of "Anglais? Español?" but asked anyway just to let her know that we didn't speak French, in case she had any doubts about the possibility. But this time we did have the amount written down of what we wanted to purchase on a scrap piece of paper in grams which must have been a trifling amount judging by her face. But we all managed to point, weigh and purchase the cheese and say with enthusiasm, "Merci!" so that she had no doubt that we appreciated her putting up with tourists (and the only ones, I might add).
We crossed the street and proceeded through heavier rain down the block. There was a tiny stand in which a man and his wife were selling a few knives and their big seller, judging its status by it's separate tiny, high pedestal, a set of scissors with about six blades on eash side. It looked like someone had glued several pairs of scissors together. Seeing our interest the owner immediately went into action showing us how quickly this ingenious aparatus could "chop" parsley. It was fun to watch but, living in Mexico for 25 years, such things always pass through my filter of "how will I wash that to get all germs and parasites off and how long will it take to dry COMPLETELY before I will use it agan?" Then we came to a stand in which they sell clothes. Nothing unusual about that or even about the size of the clothes but this time I have a daughter-in-law who sometimes has to buy things from the children's department to find clothes that fit and judging by the tiny little women I had seen on the streets I thought I might find something suitable for her, a Parisian dress! Of course, people are the same in some ways everywhere, so the dresses were actually Italian (tells you something else about what attracts the people of a country). I found one that looked like a young French girl might wear in the summer and sized it up as to whether it would fit Shadai (it did, like it was made for her). With purchases in plastic bags we headed back to the apartment to make our bag lunch and head to the metro. We were spending this very wet day inside, in the Louvre.
After going to the open market and putting away our purchases we headed to the Louvre. Following the guide book advice, once again, we went when it said it was a good day to go. Hmmm...I think everyone reads the same book because it was packed with people. The interesting thing to me was that we didn't run into many English-speaking tourists, but people from all over the world speaking in so many tongues that I finally stopped trying to figure out where they were all from and just listened...and watched. Everyone, no matter what their origin, had the goal of getting to the room holding the Mona Lisa. A friend had told me beforehand that people viewing the Mona Lisa provided some great photo opportunities so I siddled up very slowly to the two guards deep in conversation just inside the barrier next to the wall where she hangs for some shots. The painting itself is so small and so far from one that I mostly people watched.
It was a very interesting thing that most people were huddled up inching their way toward the Mona Lisa to get their shot of her in this large room filled with huge paintings, one directly across from where she hangs. One can almost imagine her thinking, "Why don't these people turn around and look at that gigantic masterpiece hanging in front of me (The Wedding at Cana)?" A few people did but one got the feeling that all the other paintings in the room were only looked at as stopgaps in the waiting to see the "famous" one.
Going to the Louvre, being able to see works throughout all of history close up, having those works placed according to their time period and being able to see what attracted people of that period (technique and subject matter) or how artists influenced each other, it was all part of the experience of spending the day in the Louvre. We went from one section to another and back again. We brought sandwiches made of ham, the cheese we had bought at the open market on baguette (French bread) and went outside when we couldn't go any longer to sit on the plaza near the famous pyramid, eat, people-watch and recoop our energies for more looking and reading and oohing and aahing.
I had expected lots of paintings and sculpture but was unprepared for the beauty of the building itself.
Sometime after the Mona Lisa room as we were walking to another section of the museum I came upon it: beautiful doorways, painted ceilings, sculpted ceilings, opulent, shimmering beauty. I'm so glad I looked up.
L'Open Tour
One of the reasons the Open Tour, or Turibus as we call it in Mexico, appealed to us was the ability to ride around the city just to enjoy it, looking at it, getting a feel for it as well as the ability to get off and on whenever and wherever we wanted at the designated tour bus stops. It was a good decision. The city center of Paris is beautiful; old buildings covered in architectural detail line the streets. Parks, both large and small pop up here and there. I could have spent the entire ten days just photographing the doors and windows of the city. In spite of the chilly temperatures we still enjoyed the scenery of the city of Paris. We rode along the Seine, up the boulevard that leads to the Arc du Triomphe around the area of the Eiffel Tower, and in neighborhoods. Bob filled me in along the way about the fascinating information the taped tour guide was giving about each place. When my need to move from one side to another of the bus for just the right shot took over...well, headphones just got in the way.
One of the areas we enjoyed the most was the area around Notre Dame. There were three lovely churches in this area, each with its own particular charm. First was Notre Dame itself, high and lofty, filled with people. On the same island is the smaller church la Chapelle with its soaring stained glass windows and across the bridge we found Eglese Saint Severin that had some of the most charming windows depicting Bible stories and some newer modern design windows as well.
We arrived at the designated meeting place at the entrance to Luxembourg park an hour late. Would he make up for us operating on "Mexican time" and still be waiting for us? Yes! We sighted him across the street. We were so thankful he hadn't given up on us and gone home. We walked down the street several blocks to a good crepe place right next to the Saint-Michel fountain. It was so nice to have someone who spoke French who could order for us and translate for us (does he have a bath room in his cafe?). While we chatted about where Octavio lives and what school in Paris is like, the young man cooked up three delicious crepes (chocolate with coconut this time, oh pure delight!). As we ate and talked we strolled to the fountain. While Bob talked with Tavo I got distracted by the young men who were doing a sort of break dancing in front of the fountain and began filming them to take back to our kids. Our time with Tavo was coming to an end and he offered to walk back up with us to the McDonalds where there was a ladies' room. I thought that was awful sweet until we arrived and he asked one of the young women employees what the code was for the bath room. Thankfully she gave it to him (though she got into an altercation with another male employee because she did). Thankfully he had gone with us because we had no idea that's how things operated. We sat and talked some more and gave him his care package, witnessed him signing his credit card as his mom had asked us to do ("We can't leave until you sign it in front of us. That was your Mama's instructions.") I took a few more photos to show Mama. It was so good to see him and see what his months of living on his own in a foreign culture had done for him and hear about the friends he had made, the jazz he had gotten enjoy (Octavio is a musician into jazz). The last time we had seen him was the day of Sam's wedding when Octavio was going to graduate from high school that night. But his months of having to fend for himself, find the best priced train tickets for his excursions on his own, do his own shopping or find the food that was great for a student's budget; it all had paid off and we enjoyed visiting with this older and wiser young man. Mama can be proud of him.
After saying goodbye to Octavio we headed back up the street to walk through Luxembourg park on the way to the bus stop. Rosalia had told us she thought this park one of the most romantic spots in the city. But as we trudged up the hill we had more of an attitude of checking off another site from our mental list than anything. We were tired. But as soon as we entered the tree-lined alle entrance into the park, the tension and fatigue seemed to roll off and melt into the wide earth lane. It was beautiful! It was like another world maybe because it invited one to sit, rest, take in the surroundings. Like all the parks we visited in the city this one had the requisite light green quaint metal chairs that people could move around to sit where they liked. As we descended into the lower garden with its reflecting pool there were people reading, couples talking, groups of people laughing and telling stories. We found two chairs near the pool and sat with our backs to the sun and people watched. A coptic priest in his long black robes and hat walked round the park discussing something with a younger man. He pulled out his Blackberry and began noting something on it. There were many people taking photos of themselves sitting by the side of the reflecting pool, some lovers, some friends being silly taking Facebook type photos of each other. We sat for a long time and watched the dark clouds rising up and along the horizon over the green lawn and the tree alleys. It was wonderful to just sit quietly together watching it all and we were refreshed as we walked to look for the bus stop that would take us back to Vaugirard and our quiet apartment with the roll-down shades and the hot buttered croissants.
The second day of l'Open Tour we rode the bus up to Montmartre and walked up the street that leads
to Sacre Coeur. We had considered a couple of places to rent in this area but since Bob was still recovering from knee surgery we weren't sure the more hilly area would be good for him. Or even if we could make the trek up the hill and all those stairs to Sacre Coeur. But it wasn't any trouble.
This is the area where much of the movie Amelie takes place or is filmed. It had been a long time since I had seen the movie so some of the shots that I took here were totally unplanned. Once we got back and I saw it again I realized that one key scene takes place at the carousel at the foot of the stairs. I took a shot of it as we were going back down to catch the bus.
This was one neighborhood where I thought we would spend more time, but we didn't. It rained everyday the first week we were in Paris. I didn't mind that since Mexico City was still in the dry season when we left, but it did affect the area where the artists set up their paintings in Montmartre. That combined with the push we felt to catch the Open Tour bus and move on to the next area resulted in us spending only enough time to climb to Sacre Coeur and snap a photo for our son of the Moulin Rouge on the way to the bus stop.
We did enjoy walking in the immediate area around Sacre Coeur. We didn't get to see the church as they were having a very high church mass when we arrived and we didn't feel comfortable playing the tourist during the worship service (that plus the deacon in the back was shushing everyone that came in). So we walked outside and when a lovely soft shower began we took refuge under the front porch of the church with all the other tourists and the street performers that minutes before had been entertaining everyone on the terrace below. It was a lovely place to get a good view of the city below.
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Peggy Daley said:
Donna, I can't think of anyone else's "eyes" I would rather see Paris through. Beautiful pictures, wonderful stories, I'm so... read more
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Nuria said:
Thank you so much, my dear Donna! I´ve read the story again and again as if by doing it I... read more
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DonnaDear said:
That's ok. Go to your page and click on Create at the top of the page. Write something short about... read more
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How dear! Thank you, Peggy. It was one of God's unexpected gifts to us, especially to Wag. read more
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