Along the Seine

September 12, 2013

Paris is a city of steps—steep steps.  Today we encountered many, not to mention what seemed like miles of pavement as a side.  We rode Bus #82 (Luxembourg) from near our hotel in  Montparnasse to the Eiffel Tower

 and spent a little time there, looking at the wildlife, a muskrat,

and discussing the possibility  of  taking the elevator up to the observation deck. The line for tickets was very long, so when it began to rain, we crossed the street to the river and boarded a hop-on, hop-off-Batobus (boat) that stopped at various points of interest (Musee d’Orsay, Sainte-Germain-des-Pres, Notre Dame, the Louvre, Champs Ellysee, etc.).

 

Every time we got off a boat, we were faced with many steps, both up and down.  At our first stop, we visited an Impressionist exhibit at d’Orsay, which featured many of the rest of Monet’s paintings, including several of his Japanese garden, (one of which is on Robin’s new souvenir tie!) as well as other impressionist painters’ works. This museum is vast—it was the former train station in Paris.

Sacre Coeer on Monmartre from atop Musee d'Orsay

Then back on the next boat for ten minutes to the next stop where we sipped drinks and people-watched in Sainte-Germain-des-Pres because we were worn out.  When we deboarded the boat at Notre Dame, we were going to get an up-close experience with the cathedral

 

 

– didn’t expect to find a festival celebrating SW France.  A lively, wonderful band was playing from that area, and it was such fun.  After their concert ended, we talked to one of the baritone horn players and a trumpet player, in half English and half French.  As often happens, Robin bought their CD.

Riding along the Seine is always a fun way to spend some time.  Paris is also the city of bridges (ponts);

 the one we like the best is Pont Alexander III, the Russian tsar who gave the bridge to Paris.  It has beautiful gold statues on it and the sides of the bridge that face the river are also gilded and colorful.  The architecture in Paris is also wonderful—and riding along the Seine, we were up close to a lot of apartments with their roof gardens and tile roofs.

We ended up again at the Eiffel Tower, where we got back on our old friend, the #82 bus, and headed back to our hotel.  My feet were hurting, but we went back out in the rain in search of dinner nearby at an Italian restaurant.

We’re packing up to leave for the airport mid-morning on Saturday to head back to Richmond.    This has been a grand adventure.  We love Paris; however, we also loved being on top of the Alps in Switzerland.  Hard to say what our favorites are.  And the flowers at Giverny were certainly a highlight.  This has been a vacation full of challenges—it was hard doing it the way we did it, but it was great.  A high adventure of a lifetime and so very good for the soul!

 

 

Giverny

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Today we had a bus excursion from Paris to Giverny to see Monet’s home and gardens.  I’m so glad we did that.  As we waited at the agency for departure time, we noticed Les Tuilleries across the street, a spacious flower and sculpture garden connected to the Louvre that we enjoyed wandering through five years ago.  It was good to revisit.

(See top of the Eiffel Tower in the background)

 While waiting in line to get on the bus, we heard English words—no, not just words but whole sentences—coming from the couple in front of us.  What fun it was to get to know them a bit—they’re from San Clemente, California.  We had a lively tour guide whose English was understandable.  She gave us quite a bit of historical information on Claude Monet, his family, his gardens, and his painting.  I was surprised to learn that he was born in 1840 and died in 1926; I didn’t realize that he was part of the 20^th Century. 

The entire adventure took about 6-7 hours (75 minutes on the bus each way).  We had a little direction from the guide once we were on the grounds, but mostly we were on our own.  Tall and low flowers of all colors filled the garden with paths running through it, and various herbal scents filled the air. 

 

The pink house was spacious—large rooms, high ceilings, a dining table that would seat about 12, a modern kitchen for its time with blue and white tiles, a large woodstove, an arrangement of copper pots across the top of the kitchen. 

 A lovely home, but, oh, my, the gardens.

We wandered away from the house and perennial garden to the Japanese garden. To create this garden of water lilies, Monet diverted a local river, even though the mayor said “no.”  By that time he was reasonably famous and had his way.

On the lane back to the bus with bubbles!

We took a taxi back to our hotel, cleaned up a bit, and went down the street to La Coupole, known as an American bar; however, it is a very French restaurant.  Robin had read about it and thought we should try it.  It may be known as one of the best restaurants on the Left Bank of Paris.  It certainly thinks it is!  On our way back to the hotel, we encountered a street musician playing the saxophone--he played a Beatles tune for us, and Robin was two euros delighted.

 

 

 

Paris by Train

September 11, 2013

Today was very hard—getting the car to Hertz early (and finding where to park it), dragging luggage around train stations, up steep stairs,

Steep stairs at Gare Dijon

aided by a very kind and strong Frenchman who helped each of us with our nearly 50-pound suitcases, getting on the train with all of our stuff and hoping it was the right train (it was), the right coach (maybe - it wasn't marked), and the right seats (really wrong here, but we had had to move fast just to get on the train and when the conductor showed up halfway to Paris, he didn't even blink - just punched our tickets) and feeling relief upon seeing a sign as the train was slowing that read “Paris Gare de Lyon.”
 

Two TGV trains like ours waiting to leave Gare de Lyon

Then, everything was in reverse order: gathering all of our bags, hauling them off the train, walking forever with them, standing in a line similar to those at DisneyWorld to wait for a taxi.  The train ride was so smooth and nice—and fast!  It made up for the craziness in finding Hertz this morning. 

Once we got in our cab, Robin breathed a sigh of relief and commented on how great it was not to be in the driver’s seat in the city.  (Paris traffic is really ugly, and there a e lots of streets that seem to have several streams of traffic interspersed going in opposite directions! - rl) As we neared our little hotel, where we stayed five years ago, Villa des Artistes, we started seeing familiar landmarks along the Boulevard de Montparnasse; we were very happy to be here and all the hard work seemed worth it.

I told Robin that I thought we were very brave to have had this long adventure, visiting six countries by plane, car, boat, and train (1,332 miles just in the car); he said it was hard to say whether “brave” was the right word or if “foolhardy” was a better one.

This cozy hotel is in an old, old building on a wonderful little “rue” (street) on the Left Bank.  The interior is snazzy modern and inspiring.  Our room is gray, black, and silver with a huge window—not as small as last night’s space, but not large either.  As I stretched out on the bed to relax after we arrived, I looked at the dark ceiling.  On it an unlabeled outline of a map of the world is etched in blue—just the lines.  I lay there studying it and counted the number of countries (states) in Africa—there are 55.  I got Robin involved in looking at it, and we were surprised by how far north France is in comparison to the U.S. 

The carpeting is such fun too—it is covered with labeled constellations. 

Each door in the hotel has a quote by a well-known artist. 

Tomorrow we have scheduled a five-hour tour to Giverny to see Monet’s gardens where he painted his water lilies and more.  I hope the weather will improve—it’s been kind of gloomy the past few days.

 

Anniversary!

September 10, 2013

Thirty years ago this evening, right after our wedding celebration was over, we realized that, in all the excitement, we had hardly eaten at the reception.  On our way out of town, we went to a McDonald’s drive through and each had a filet-o-fish.  This afternoon, in the town of Besancon, we stopped and had filets-o-fish to commemorate that event as we were on an afternoon drive.

Late this evening we headed back out on the street in search of dinner.  The weather has gotten nippy here, so we didn’t eat outdoors.  Our anniversary dinner consisted of veal and “haricots vert” (green beans).  The server and chef/owner were delightful, and we enjoyed talking with them so much.  Almost everybody in France speaks a little English.  We end up speaking a little French and a little English in almost every sentence—when we come to a word or words we don’t know in French, we resort to English.  Yesterday in a tourist office I found myself saying, “Je voudrais d’information re le Beaujolais route.”  (I would like some information about the Beaujolais route.) I don’t know if that is the right word for information in French, but I said it with the French nasal sound and pronunciation, and she seemed to know what I said.  I have more self-confidence this time in France than the last time.  I can read the signs—except for the traffic symbols—and the menus are easier.  I just don’t like to talk to the people in French because they answer me in speed French, and I don’t know what they’re saying.

That’s all for tonight!  We have an early morning—we have to get the car to Hertz and hop on the train for Paris.  This adventure is winding down, and we’re getting ready to be home late on Saturday and to easily drive around Richmond without Samantha on the GPS.  I am looking forward to iced tea, blueberries, peanut butter (haven’t seen it once in Europe), and oatmeal.  Little pleasures!

The Beaujolais Trail

Monday, September 09, 2013

Still so sad to be out of those mountains, but we embarked on a new adventure this afternoon on the way from Lyon to Dijon.  I mentioned in yesterday’s post that this was Beaujolais country, and the tourist office has created what is called “Rue de Beaujolais”—a twisting tour through miles and miles of vineyards

and small villages, some with just a church, a bar, and a narrow road running among a few houses (mostly made of sandstones). 



All vineyards in this area produce the grapes used for making the fruity Beaujolais wine, which is the most valuable and supposedly tastes the best when it’s newly bottled.  Unlike other wines that getter better with age, this vin nouveau, as it is often called, is most sought after by connoisseurs when it is first bottled.  We spent a couple hours this afternoon rambling on this course.  We got lost a few times but figured it out.

One thing that we noticed was the lack of activity along the trail--a car here and there, an occasional vintner trimming his vines, but little other movement.  We stopped in a quiet village, Le Perreon, because we saw a tavern-type restaurant that had its doors open, and we were hungry.  Typically, in Europe, the restaurants do not serve lunch after 2—at least that’s been our experience.  By then it was about 2:15.  The owner and his wife, who was British, offered to make us ham and cheese sandwiches.  She served Robin a glass of fresh Beaujolais and me some water; he sliced a hunk of baked ham and some mild white cheese for each sandwich, topped it with a delicious salad with a balsamic-type dressing, and put each on a small loaf of French bread. It was delicious, although I had to remove the top of the bread because it was just too much.  We had a good chat with the proprietors and spent a little time enjoying that rural community.



At La Perreon--notice the vineyards in the background

   

A stately two-story pink building with beautiful flower boxes at each window stood across from the restaurant.  We thought it was a posh hotel; we learned that it was the town hall—in this tiny community, and there was no activity going on there at all.

 

 

 

When the route through the Beaujolais area ended, we hopped back on the toll road and ended up in Dijon.  Driving in foreign cities is so crazy!  Samantha helped us find the hotel, and we carefully avoided the trolley tracks; however, when you find your hotel in a city, there is no place to pull over and let them know you are there and find out where to park.  After a couple tours around several blocks, we saw a parking sign for the hotel and pulled down into what felt like a pit to me.  After we were committed to being down there and another car was behind us, we realized we had to call the front desk through an intercom to be allowed access.  It’s hard to be in places when you don’t know what to do and you don’t understand the spoken language very well.

Upon entering our room here in this very modern, well-decorated hotel, my first thought was House Hunters International.  I remember seeing people move to Europe and for huge sums of money get to live in a 700-square-foot apartment.  If this room is 11 x 11, I would be surprised.  The up-to-date room and bathroom are even smaller than yesterday’s; however, they are much nicer.  We’re across from the train station, and the trolleys go by under our window, and it’s noisy, and we’re thinking about our accommodations up in the Alps and wondering how we got here.  And now we’re in the Burgundy area of France.  We’ll see what tomorrow brings.



A typical "roundabout" that we have encountered in the center of most roads

Au revoir, Alps

 

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Mont Blanc and La Mer de Glace as we left

We left the amazing Alps today—they were shrouded in fog with bright blue skies above. I will always remember these few days—no matter which way we looked, we saw what looked like a National Geographic photo spread.  Grindelwald, Switzerland, was my favorite because the Alps were up close and personal there with ribbons of green rolling hills leading up to the hundreds of rocky peaks; however, the sight of Mont Blanc and the peaks around it were breathtaking as well.

 

Before we left Chamonix, Robin went in search of the German band and found them again. He bought a CD from them to enjoy as we drove.

We hated having Mont Blanc behind us, as we left the area, especially facing the torrential rain almost the entire way to Lyon, France.

We haven’t been here long, but we discovered we’re very close to the central city in a big, old hotel that is clean and neat but in definite need of some remodeling. The room is the worst we’ve had on this trip; it’s very small—both suitcases cannot even be opened in the room. There are two tiny pillows on the bed—more like small throw pillows, not good pillows for reading. Robin asked for another and his request was denied. Since it was raining, we had already decided we would just eat in the hotel restaurant—only there isn’t one. After Robin did some checking, he asked me how I would feel about taking the metro to a restaurant—in a strange city in the rain at night. He knew my answer to that. There was only one restaurant within walking distance, and it was Thai. That’s what we did—and it was fine, just not what we had in mind for France. They had a buffet, which was good, so I didn’t have to commit to something I didn’t like and could choose veggies. As long as there is sushi and Mongolian barbecue or, in this case, a Thai wok, Robin is fine.

Most of our travels today were on main highways—about $30 worth of tolls! (This made the Pennsylvania and Florida Turnpikes look like steals!) We went about 120 km on this roadway (78 miles), mostly listening to the German brass band CD. The French highways have frequent “aires”—rest areas. Some are well equipped; others are minimal, and, until you get inside, you don’t know what you’re getting. Robin and I both discovered the strangest restrooms we’ve ever seen. I opened the stall and, instead of a toilet, I saw what looked like the base of a shower—with a hole in the floor and places for your feet—and no TP. Robin reported the same experience. A whole new take on things!! Luckily, we weren’t far from Lyon at that point.

I’ve had a less-than-positive feeling about Lyon since I heard we were booked here—I love being in the countryside, not the cities. Robin said he booked us in Grindelwald (Switzerland) to “indulge my penchant for heights.” He did a good job with that one for sure. I’m not a city person, but I’m hoping we will find some adventures around here tomorrow. This is wine country, specifically Beaujolais, so maybe we’ll see some pretty countryside and some castles. In all fairness, almost anything would have been a letdown after where we’ve been. I’ll always remember Buzz Aldrin, after he’d been to the moon, saying that he went into a depression because he’d reached his goal of going to the moon and what could top that. I know I can’t compare Switzerland to the moon, and I’m not depressed—but those mountains were right up there on my bucket list, and I’ve checked off that adventure.

Tomorrow, we are heading to Dijon, France. We are definitely staying downtown there, across from the train station. We will be giving up our car there and taking a train to Paris on Wednesday.

Chamonix--local color

Saturday, September 7, 2013             

It is 10 p.m.—we just got in from the street.  We had a mediocre dinner inside a small café (it was raining), where we enjoyed a conversation in English with a British hiker from London, who sat almost beside us.  We had a spunky server who knew little English.  I asked for water in three languages, and she tried to hand me the salt and pepper.  Somehow we ended up with two glasses of red wine that we didn’t order.  She just didn’t know what we were talking about.  For wine, it wasn’t bad, and it was cheap, and the water, when we finally got it, was free.  That’s the first time we’ve had free water at a meal since we arrived.  The Brit ordered a pizza with a fried egg over light in the middle of it!  Even though the meal was not that good, we had a great time.

When we went back out on the square, Robin insisted we go looking for the German band again—even though it was raining.  I waited at the corner and was surprised that he found them, just as they were setting up at an outdoor restaurant with an awning, so we listened to their excellent music again tonight.

 

They are so boisterous—taking about five minutes in between each song to laugh with each other, sing some songs in German, and make a lot of noise.  They were dressed in costume—grown men in lederhosen (sturdy suede shorts with wide cloth suspenders that are embroidered in flowers.)  They wore either felt hats or some other type of hat with a big, furry plume on top. 

As they finished and were walking away, I noticed that they all had the same black leather shoes with some sort of tab on the top and their legs were bare—except for something like a leg warmer about 10 inches long on the upper calf and part of the knee; the leg warmers had a houndstooth-type pattern.  Two women, who were dressed in costume—not the same as the men but long skirts—played trumpet and clarinet in the band.  We didn’t even notice the rain and chilly temperature much-- we just had fun being there!  We were almost sitting in with the band.  Plus the brass players, especially, were great.  Robin and I both like brass instruments. 

We spent part of the afternoon today at McDonald’s, trying to post yesterday’s blog and check our email.  It really took longer than we intended because the internet speed was so slow—but they did have ice!  While Robin worked on downloading the pictures, I went across the square and shopped a bit, which is not my favorite thing to do, but it turned out to be fun and interesting.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, Mont Blanc, Europe’s highest peak, looms behind us—the glacier part of the mountain is called “La Mer de Glace” (The Sea of Ice).  What a remarkable glacier on this over 15,000-foot peak!  Also, behind us is a gondola traveling up the side of another mountain, Aiguille du Midi.  Supposedly, it is the world’s highest cable car at 12,000 feet.  We’re not doing that.

 

 Chamonix, this great little village almost buried among the mountains, is a happening place.  It is teeming with restaurants, alpine-like hotels, saloons, stores that cater to mountain climbing and skiing, lots of hikers and travelers, lots of people walking around with trekking poles and wearing hiking boots.  We learned today that Chamonix hosted the first winter Olympics back in 1924, although its history goes back to the 1700s.

 

Tomorrow (Sunday) we reluctantly leave the Alps and head for Lyon, France.