Au revoir blitz

Today began badly…as we began our trip with Paris getting sick all over us, so we began our last day in Paris with me getting sick all over Paris.  The night before, we had decided to get our Eiffel Tower tickets online in order to save lots of line-standing time the next day.  But no.  Due to various printer and other computer problems (not the least of which was the fact that, although no one told us, the computer in the lobby shuts down every fifteen minutes…just for kicks, I guess), two hours and a very exhausted but well-meaning night concierge later, we had no tickets.  We determined to stifle our frustration at losing the first chunk of our badly needed night’s rest, and off to sleep we went. 

Just a few hours later, we hauled ourselves out of bed to begin our last day in the city.  I promptly realized my terrible condition and put myself back to bed, sending Ely down to work out the ticket thing with the day concierge.  Let’s just say that perhaps a rush of adrenalin was just what I needed to bring about  my  jump start, so when Ely returned completely disheartened and thoroughly insulted by  Monsieur le Concierge de l’Enfer (that wasn’t his real name), my body seemed to dart out of bed and into my clothes all by itself.  Next thing I knew  I was in his face across the desk in the hotel entry yelling at him in French for all new clients to overhear with no effort.  He had been so far out of line with my daughter, so lazy, so…….etc. etc. Oh la LA la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la LA! (I felt vindicatd, at least, on her behalf.)

As soon as I got back upstairs, the phone rang, and he invited us nicely to come back down and he would make it right.  All was well.  The tickets were forthcoming, and we went on our way, belated, to see the beautiful Tour Eiffel.

 After our very long and  final trek from Versailles to Paris, to the top of the tower we went.  Even in overcast and rainy weather, there is no way to be disappointed at the top of the Tour Eiffel.  The view is always spectacular, as it was for us today.  Click click, nice Aussie guy and his girlfriend took a good one of us with a distant Notre Dame in the background.  Tres bien.  Allez, viens!

We had a bad feeling about trying to take in the Monmartre area this time.  So, instead we opted for a more gentle and soothing end to our stay, and went to the Orangerie to keep a tentative appointment with Monet.  I had never seen the two large rooms literally wall papered from one end of each curvilinear wall to the other with…you guessed it, his water lilies.  



Miles of them in vast ranges of deep to pastel blues, violets, shadow, light, and movement.  I have a photo of Ely looking at them….we both just began to breathe in those rooms.  I don’t know how, but one feels the peace of the actual location through the canvass.  I think it is a miracle.  God’s handiwork through a transcendent kindred spirit.  Thank You for Monet.

We took one last walk through the Tuilerie Gardens…past the Louvre, and managed to catch a lady, one of the Bouquinists, just getting ready to close her little portable shop on the wall overlooking the Seine. 

We bought a gift for Erynne, and headed for St. Germain to keep our last rendez-vous with the Deux Magots,  where Victor Hugo and friends used to meet. 

One more celebration of mousse au chocolat, chocolat chaud a la facon ancienne, one more long, lovely moment sitting at a French café at dusk,

just in time to watch as the final Christmas lights were gingerly put in place...

 We watched as they began to show off in the evening sky illuminating the entire Place St. Germain with glorious waves of living brilliance.  This is still a beautiful place.  A toast to our moment, and on to catch the evening train for one last ride back to Versailles.

Our goodbyes were said in the best French fashion, over a delicious dinner at a great restaurant in Versailles with Marie-Helene and her son Aurelien.  The wonders of goat cheese can never be motonous. 

We reveled in such delicacies as tiny French pasta with miraculous cheese sauce, salade verte,  and for dessert the personification of what mangos and pears would taste like if they were served to God in the form of sorbetto with white chocolate gelato at the end of a royal banquet, topped with a ribbon of raspberry coulis and lots of whipped cream.  No words.

After lots of laughter and photos, and memories recounted yet again of when Aurelien and Eliott were together as toddlers, we took leave of Marie-Helene and Aurelien at the restaurant, and began our tearful walk back to our hotel.  Noticing that they were following us, we stopped.   When they caught up, all of us decided it would help to say goodbye again at the hotel.  Again, hugs a la facon d'Indiana, and bisous, a la facon francaise.   Merci, cheris, pour l’hotel, les souvenirs, et l’amour.  See you this summer in Indiana.

I have been to Paris now five times. 
The first time alone, and every other time with someone I love dearly.  The memories of each experience, with each individual, are unique….as if Paris wore a different gown, and danced to a different genre of music  for us each time.  Bogart once said ‘We’ll always have Paris’.  I don’t disagree.  Although she is being dragged through a turbulent time in her history, her beauty seems eternal.  Erynne's teen age wonderment at the lights and night life of the Champs Elysees, Eliott's fluency and accurate French accent as we interacted in the shops and museums, and Elyssa's tears as she saw Monet for the first time......Some of my best memories with each of them on each of my trips, and with my husband on our whirlwind weekend of romance, his  street savvy manner tempered with finesse appropriate to a leading man with his lady in the city of lights, all have Paris as the backdrop, either in Spring pastels, or in her Winter firs and diamonds.  So whether or not we ever return to her, we will always have Paris.  And to a certain degree, Paris will always have us.  A bientot, Cherie.

Sunday in Paris, Day 5-The Church in Paris: Seven centuries of making God smile

Today we got ‘take away’ croissants and pain au chocolat from our hotel breakfast nook, and met Marie-Helene out front to begin our day of church hopping.  The Hillsong fellowship is a modern church that began in Australia, and has spread rapidly due to its emphasis on a real time, interactive and relational walk with God.  They meet in a theatre in Paris (Theatre Bobino) every Sunday, and pack it to standing room only.  Mostly consisting of people below the age of forty, they have free coffee and social time before and after, and are formatted in a similar way to our less formal services where the worship is with guitars, drums, singers, and uplifted hands.  Ely and I felt very much at home, and Marie-Helene seemed to enjoy it as well. 

Afterwards we did what the French do, and paused to discuss it over a cappuccino in a nearby café.  We bonded a bit, as do the French, and shared the differences and similarities of our personal beliefs.  Good thing to do in Paris on a Sunday afternoon.

Next church hop stop:  Notre Dame by day.  Although we had already experienced its wonders by night, there was no leaving Paris without seeing firsthand how the light plays as it streams through the colors of her stained glass windows. 

We learned to recognize the tiny focal point in the rose window to the left of the altar, Mary and Jesus done in shades of emerald green.  Stunning. 

The third hop was a smaller gothic, the Sainte Chappelle.  I was once told that visiting the Sainte Chappelle was like being inside a jewel case.  Its floor to ceiling stained glass windows are a feast of colors uninterrupted by other structure.  The windows compose most of each wall…like soaring sheets of jewels of every color. 



We all three just sat and stared.  I think that the architects of the time must have been very intent on using their new technology to create something to make God happy, and His children feel closer to Heaven.

We completed our sensory feasting by a culinary one.  Dropping down into the metro, we arrived in the Saint Germain district, where Dave and I had had a wonderful meal several years ago at a creperie. 

I was hoping I could find it again, and within minutes, VOILA!  What the stained glass masterpieces were to our visual senses, the various flavors and textures of the crepes would be to our tastebuds.  Among the delicacies were salads with very fresh and fragrant olive oil dressing,  crepes with fillings of spinach and varied French cheeses, crepes with ham,  goat cheese, crème sauces, and finally, dessert crepes.  Ely and I split the pear belle Helene with apple compote, raspberry drizzle, chocolate, and heavy cream.  Marie Helene went with the simplicity of the crepes aux beurre et sucre.  Very good choices.

  Marie-Helene took leave of us to do some errands, and Ely and I went on to shop a bit in the St. Germain shops, and head out to the Tour Eiffel. 

There was nearly a two hour wait, so instead we took the train to Versailles, where Aurelien awaited us for the Paris by night tour with chauffeur:

Aurelien!  There is no better way to tour Paris than with a Frenchman and his mother! 

Among the highlights were the glistening golden facade of the Opera, the glittering shopping district of Place des Vosges, with its animations in shop windows and zoomie displays with light shows for Christmas.  We saw every main district and every monument together tonight, which left it all indelible in our memories. 

Bonne nuit, et merci beaucoup, cheris.

The Palace

 

   Versailles!

 Elyssa:  “Why is that ….shining down there?”  (pointing down the street last night as we got off the train from Paris in Versailles at the end of our day). 

 
Lisa: “Uh…that’s the palace. It’s gilded and shines at night with the lights on the gold part.” 

 “Oh…wow.”

Only those who travel to places where they speak another language can fully understand the kind of fatigue the feels like one is asleep the whole afternoon and evening each day.  Trying to maneuver within the culture and the language, and be savily aware of one’s surroundings in dangerous settings in such a state can be daunting as well as exhausting.  I think that is why we have things like the palace of Versailles.  One glimpse of it peeking through the walkways keeps us aware of why we came. 

 Since getting ourselves together for the next day has been requiring about three hours each evening (sounds impossible but trust me), and since the Bistro Romain incident put us out of commission (obtaining an international phone to be able to contact people for such matters as cancelling service of the stolen I phone, finding and filing a report with the Commissariat  de Police, etc. etc.) for about a full day of our stay, we have never switched our body clocks to France time, and have been crunching our short winter days with rapid fire sight-seeing until we drop at night.  In true form, therefore, today was a blitz starting with brunch at Marie-Helenes house (lovely pastry, great coffee made by our beloved Aurelien, Marie-H’s son, and a therapeutic bonding with their new chat ‘Tommie” and their five singing finches.  Sweet! 

After brunch, we scurried across the street and down to the Chateau……

Elyssa here:  What amazed me about the Chateau was the sheer opulence of the lifestyle that every detail inside it stood for.  Also it seems to me that King Louis XIV was the first example, if not the best, of brilliant successful personal branding.  Everything detail in the castle was about him: right down to the door handles made in the likeness of his face as the sun.  He called himself the “Sun King” and he and all those around him proceeded as though he were the one in control of even the daylight.  He created a culture where he was so revered that his nobles even fought over which of them got to accompany him for ‘sa toilette’ in the mornings!  (Leaving it up to your imagination what that was like)  It was considered a rare honor.  Right.

Seriously, if you have people fighting over that, you have really pulled one over on the world.  Non?

 Each room in the Chateau has some purpose surrounding his greatness and his condescension to his subjects.  He was the true original experience designer, crafting every moment spent in the castle to cause reverence of him and satisfaction of earthly desires with pleasure – a perfect example is the Hall of Mirrors (which, though mirrors had not been made by the French before, he insisted they learn how and make a whole reception hall of them, floor to ceiling-the first gig of St. Gobain, by the way).  Upon entering the Chateau, a person was received through an awe inspiring giant hall of these mirrors, reflecting the light from the tall windows across from them, and slowly made his or her way to the Sun King at the opposite end.

His plan (nearly perfectly executed) was to cater to every desire of his nobles (hence the opulent lifestyle he encouraged in his castle) in order to keep everyone under his spell.  But it couldn’t last.  Just to build the Chateau in Versailles, he used one half of all the income of France for a year.  It’s no wonder that the French Revolution happened under the watch of Louis XIV’s  grandson, Louis XVI.  Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were the two that lost their heads when the people rose up against the royal family and the nobility.

I also find it fascinating that what Marie Antoinette seems to be most known for around the Chateau was….her redecoration of many of the main rooms.  I’m pretty sure that she did not actually say “Let them eat cake” but learning about her and examining the bust (of herself) that she put in her own bedroom, I’d say that’s likely the kind of lady she was…

If I ever commission someone to sculpt a bust of me…someone - pleas stop me.

Lisa here…yeah, I am with you on that.  Secret doorways for night time activities (again, imagination here), lavish silk wallpaper changed every season back in the day, rich colors ranging from the deep burgundy velvets, to very pastel roses in minute detail, an in-house opera for dance, plays, concerts (Louis supported richly such masters as Moliere and Lully, and even fancied himself as a dancer), not to mention the multitudes of art masterpieces that he was constantly buying from all over the world, and always gold…gold everywhere….light reflection,  motion, massive lively fountains that  reflected in the halls of the interior-Versailles was a place of extremes, and a truly monumental experience for all who were fortunate enough to have been invited there.  A mélange of the good, the bad and the ugly, it still is.

There was enough time to stop at the fleurist for a gorgeous Christmas rose and pine bouquet fit for Marie-Helene’s father, who had invited us to dinner this evening.  We were received by a gracious host, who was also our chef for the evening.  We dined on beef roast, dauphinois, of course des fromages, une baguette, and for dessert four different kinds of pastries from the local patisserie ranging from meringues to baba au rhum.  During the course of the evening, it became evident that he was, in that grandfatherly French way, especially impressed with Elyssa, as he directed certain questions to her with apparent delight at her attempts to answer in French.  As expected, the conversation was interesting and ranged from the various ways that French guys woo their women, to the various differences between religion in France and religion in America, (if that can be approached in any setting at all, it would be with a Frenchman in his home over wine and dinner).  Impeccable!  Let’s do it again soon.

But what do they mean? Random quotes from the streets of Paris...

Here are some quotes to describe parts of our trip so far:

Lisa: " 'Hick'....'hick'....'hickup'...I think I'm drunk from the chocolate."

_____________

Elyssa: "Ummm....why would I order a 'hot goat' on my salad?"

Lisa: "Technically by 'hot goat' they mean 'hot goat cheese."

______________

Lisa: "Since when is it ok for 10 year old bandits to come into a fine restaurant and steal an iPhone off your table?"

_______________

Elyssa: "Man, I'm tired.  I think I need a hot goat."

________________

Marie Helene: "If zey try to steal you again, you can call me."

Lisa: "You mean if they rob us?"

_______________

Any French person (in French) : "Yes, it's REALLY easy to find.  REALLY easy and very close.  You just go over there," (points), "turn right, and it's on your left."

Lisa and Elyssa: "Riiiiiiiiiight..."

________________

Concierge: "Madame, would you like your room to be cleaned today?"

Lisa: "Yes, please."

Concierge: "Sorry, it's too late."

_________________

Lisa (to any French person): "Is it far?"

Any French person: "No!  It's not far."

_________________

Elyssa (to Lisa regarding the EMTs examining her busted lip at Musee d'Orsay): "Ok, how bad is it?  Do they think it needs stitches?"

Lisa: "These are firemen."

Elyssa: "Right.  Firemen."

Tapestries...day 3

We came to, as they say, with a shocking auditory assault which only a European hotel phone can provide. My friend was in the lobby. Having never changed time zones, we were only at about 5 in the morning (11 am France time...we had been up until about 5 am), and rather unable to conjure up a decent 'Allo?' on short notice. Within a couple of hours of groggy chatting in the hotel room, we readied ourselves for our day, and went to lunch with Marie-Helene at the cafe next door.

Crepes, salade, kiss kiss (bisous) and into the train for Ely and me to catch six thousand years of history in the remaining six hours of the day. It was four p.m. when we departed from Versailles, and the Cluny Museum and Notre Dame closed at 6 and 7 respectively. Could it be done?

ET OUI! Nothing is impossible to him who believes. As they say in sports, sometimes you can win playing ugly ball. And somewhat ugly it was, (speed walking is not all it's cracked up to be), but in the end we managed to have another profound connection with timeless beauty in the tapestry room at Cluny exploring the visual story of La Dame et la Licorne.  The young girl in the tapestry, with her protectors and favorite animals alongside, manages to learn that the important things in life are not material. 'My only treasure'.....is what she already has.

The simplicity of this revelation enveloped us in rich pastels that are as vivid and glorious now as they were six hundred years ago.

The quiet moment gave way to another speed walk as we descended toward the river to discover Notre Dame as she was finishing her Christmas adornment: a giant live fir tree nearly as tall as the cathedral walls.

The lights were just finished, and a man in a bucket lift was just hanging the final balls or decoration at the top. The pine fragrance engulfed the entire courtyard.











We went in and were privileged to encounter the pipe organ and vocalist celebration as they worshiped. My own prayers went toward loved ones.

 

We concluded our Notre Dame experience with a crepe and cappuccino in the little cafe next door, accompanied by the chimes of the bell tower hailing the holiday season.

Before concluding our evening, we would experience the treasures of the old fort-prison-castle of kings, the Louvre....

The first time I met La Joconde she
was hiding quietly in the deep halls of the ancient edifice that once housed prisoners and kings.  Today we found her quickly, as she had not changed her hiding place, and there were carefully planted ‘clues’ to her location on each corner or staircase leading to her room.  This lady, also called Mona Lisa, was situated peacefully in the middle of her own wall, waiting to be found by my own little girl, just as she waited for me to find her on my first visit thirty years ago.  She is still unique and beautiful in her way, still able to see us no matter where we are in the room. 





My greatest joy today was to observe Elyssa’s excitement as she saw her for the first time, moving about the room to appreciate her different angles.  How happy the lady might have been had she known that she would be sought out by so many over the centuries to come.  Before we ended our visit to the Louvre, we were able to spend time with two other ladies, ancient and yet timeless….one known for her bravery (La Victoire de Samothrace), the other known for her beauty (Venus de Milo). 

Elyssa here: PS:  Whatever happened to Venus’ arms?  And what was she doing before they fell off?  That’s what I want to know.  On another note, we simply could not get past the weirdness of the other commissioned works of art that shared the space with Mona Lisa – especially the one that pictured a certain noble family at the table with Jesus a la the Last Supper…Really? Don’t you think people will notice that your kid playing with the family dog at Jesus’ feet is wearing a poofy gaudy ballgown?  “I have a new horse and carriage…”  “Oh yeah?  Well, I was at the last supper.  See the painting?”

In the next section of ancient antiquities, Ely and I were fascinated that the women in the time of Moses were wearing the kinds of jewelry that we like today.  The people were using the same kinds of kitchen utensils, and made basic furniture in the same design as we would.  A tiny sculpture from that time of a mother and father with their son reminded us that family was important to those people as it is to us today. Ely and I had to eventually force ourselves to leave, constrained only by time and endurance, unlike these timeless relics. We managed to get out before ‘the sweep’ a ritual that used to be followed by the guards each night at closing, where they stand shoulder to shoulder and sweep the rooms of guests.  (Do they still do that?)

We wanted to say goodnight to Paris from our hearts to hers, her lovely river Seine.

Pont Neuf is not really new (Pont Neuf means ‘new bridge’).  It is, in fact, the oldest of the bridges in Paris.  It is the bridge featured in ‘Bourne Identity’, and it so happens, the bridge under which are found our favorite river boats, les Vedettes de Pont Neuf.  We sat bundled up on the top floor, and admired Paris in her Christmas regalia as we floated down the river Seine.  Bonsoir, la plus belle ville du monde.  On te verras demain.  Tomorrow, Versailles!

day 2 - a day of extremes

Let's just say that since yesterday was one of the biggest ironies of our lives, we shall do a quick summary and then move right on to today.  The word "thanksgiving" entails enumerating one's blessing and giving thanks to God.  Our blessings began with a late checkout, and depositing baggage at the desk so we could have our sightseeing day before transferring to Versailles (where Marie Helene, my friend from college days in France, now lives; her generosity has us staying there for free - Blessing #1). 

We dropped into the Metro and popped out at Charles de Gaulle Etoile to begin our day in the afternoon.  Our day was to have been composed of a long walk from one end of the Champs Elysees to the other with a bit of window shopping, a nice meal, and some historic encounters as a preview to the following day at the Louvre.

 Instead, it seems that Paris was having a bad case of the flu.  During the course of the next nine hours, having been robbed by a cluster of ten year old bandits in the middle of a fine restaurant in broad daylight (how does this HAPPEN? Highlight: mental snapshot of the day, my triathlete daughter running full tilt down the Champs Elysees chasing a gaggle of boys who promptly vanish into thin air with her iPhone), we were utterly astonished at the sheer volume and flurry of activity.  We had had (albeit somewhat strained) interactions with le Commissariat de Police, the media geek at a store called "Virgin Mobile," the restaurant owner, a terribly substandard waitress, and a group of nice people at the local Al Anon meeting. The meal itself was indeed fitting for a Thanksgiving in Paris (a succulent pave de saumon, a refreshing ratatouille, tagliatelle, salade avec chevre chaux, mousse au chocolat and creme brulee), - and eventually given to us for free - Blessing #2.  Still debating whether or not it was worth the price of the iPhone. 

There is no denying the wonder and glitter of the Champs Elysees by night, all dressed up for Christmas - Blessing #3.  We were struck, however, by the juxtaposition that  gloriously extravagant celebration exists within a cadre of evil to which we, as yet, are not accustomed - blessing #4.  Paris is changing...as a reflection of the present world where children are not protected.   (What kind of person trains a child to steal for them?)

Among the sweeter memories of this Thanksgiving night were a doggie named Bijou, the carols in the air, and the various culinary delights of the season from many nations, presented in booth after booth of brightly twinkling lights and deep fragrances of diverse kinds from specialty wood-grilled meats and roasted chestnuts to mulled wines and tiny fluted sugar cakes. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In some measure healed by it all, we prayed for the boys in the gang, and set off to retrieve our luggage and move to Versailles.

But Paris continued to throw up on us....and we would arrive at Versailles much later than intended, having suffered this time from misinformation that often  happens during periods of construction in the metro, although no one here is in agreement as to what really was the problem...it's a French thing, I think.  Anyway, it was a series of perfect storms, as it were, that got us in to our new hotel (grace a Dieu - blessing #5)  in the middle of the night, having missed dinner with my friend, wearied of travel in general and concluding that we did not, in fact, love Paris.  Boo for you, bad old Paris.  Get well soon, s'il vous plait.

Once safely installed in our new room, we blacked out around 3 a.m.   To be continued...