Humbling experiences

A few humorous/embarrassing moments:

There’s a public toilet in Monaco close to the bus stop on the pier. I decided to avail myself of it before we began the trek up the hill to Monaco-Ville. I deposited my .30 euro and opened the door to the unisex facility noticing it was a hole-in-the-floor model -- my first. Then the door closed and I was in darkness. I guess the light was out. I tried the door handle but it was locked. I started groping along the walls feeling for a light switch. My eyes began to adjust to the dark and I could make out, with the help of a little light coming in along the floor a big red button next to the door. Pushing it unlocked the door. I opened it and used the light to size up the situation. The toilet was modern and clean and there was a horseshoe shaped bar that could be used as a toilet seat recessed into the wall that could be lowered by pressing a button and pulling the seat down. The sign also claimed the seat would raise automatically. When I felt secure enough in my surroundings I closed the door, lowered the bar, perched on the edge (it was high and I feared the seat would automatically snap back to it’s original position) and went about my business. Unfortunately, sitting so far forward, I was only in the general vicinity of the hole and let me tell you, there’s quite a splatter range when piss hits stainless from a height of about 2 ½ feet. I’m just glad I was wearing capris.

Yesterday on our sojourn back from Gordes we took a wrong turn in one of the little towns. When we were circling around to try again, a woman jumped out of the car in front of us leaving the door open with a child inside. She ran straight to Dan’s window and started asking for directions in French. We couldn’t manage a sound. All we could do was stare stupidly with our mouths open and shoulders hunched. It took her a split second to realize she’d picked idiots to ask and ran to the car behind us. As we drove away I realized I had a map open in my lap.

There’s a small circus going on in the park behind our hotel. We were walking by the motor homes where the circus folk live the other night on our way back from dinner and some of them were hanging out in what appears to be a communal outdoor gathering spot. They mocked us (I think it was just Dan really). Let me tell ya, there’s nothing quite as degrading as being mocked by a French carny.

Dan stepped in dog shit. It was bound to happen. He was walking down the drive here when a car came along and he quickly stepped over into the median to get out of the way. That’s where he hit it. It wasn’t so much the stepping in the crap that was funny so much as the little shitslip/slide to the side. Some people here do clean up after their dogs but they leave the bags-o-crap laying on the sidewalk. I guess they have shit pixies here that come by and pick them up.

Gordes

Our trip to Gordes in Provence was our longest car trip. It took about 2 ½ hours to get there driven mostly on the A8. This is similar to our interstates only it’s a toll road. When you’re traveling that far, the tolls really add up. I think the highest one we paid was 12.70 euro.

There was parking just on top of the hill so we didn’t have to climb into the town. We ate lunch at the café featured in the movie “A Good Year” and we photographed where various scenes were shot. The town is quite picturesque and we roamed around the very steep streets for a couple of hours. We had an ice cream and decided to go to see the bories which are dry stone huts -- some built centuries ago. We discovered there was one right in our car park so just photographed it instead of going to the historic borie village (saving us some euros). They all look pretty much the same.

We decided to drive back to Monaco on the N7 which is like our state highways and have no tolls. It was a much more enjoyable, if quite a bit longer drive. The highway was lined with old sycamores and vineyards most of the way. We passed a large field of purple iris. We went through town after town, all with a number of roundabouts. They were landscaped, some quite elaborately. Dan merrily pirouetted his way across Provence. He then drove on the Bord de Mer (the coastal highway) from St. Raphael to Cannes. This road was slow going, even though we seemed to be speeding along, with lots of hairpin curves along the sides of mountains with nothing but the Mediterranean below. We decided to get back onto the A8 at Cannes as the sun was beginning to set and a fog was rolling in off the water. Plus, I was getting nauseous. The trip back took about 5 hours.

Top photo is from the drive on the N7 showing the sycamores and the bottom is the town of Gordes from a flanking hill.

Street singer in Antibes

We climbed up to the old part of the town (Monaco-Ville) where the Palais Princier, Musee Oceanographique, cathedral and tourist shops. We toured the palace where the royal family still resides. The part on the tour is opulent and includes the throne room where, among others, there is a huge portrait of Prince Rainier, Princess Grace and their children. The tombs of the past princes are in the cathedral. Flowers are left on Prince Ranier’s and Princess Grace’s -- mostly roses on her's.
We got a couple of sandwiches and sat on a bench across from a low wall overlooking the Mediterranean. There are large gulls here, or maybe they’re albatross’ and one landed on the wall next to a couple across from us that were also enjoying a picnic. They were sitting on the wall with their food spread out between them. The gullatross sat on the wall behind the woman for a little while until shooed away. He then landed just on the other side of the wall so that his head and neck were all that was visible sticking up just behind their food. I half expected him to say, “Mine!” like the stupid gulls in Finding Nemo. I was hoping the couple would look away so that I could see him steal some of their lunch but it didn’t happen. He really was a pretty bird. His head was snow white and there was a red half circle on his lower beak.

The next day we drove to Antibes, a town on the Riviera with a huge port where large yachts and a multitude or sailboats are docked. There was a fabulous food market set up in the main square. We wandered around cobblestone shop-lined streets and came upon a lady singing in the style of Edith Piaf. She accompanied herself on guitar and a tamborine she worked with a foot pedal. She was singing “La Vie en Rose” as we walked up but by the time we thought to video her, she was singing a song I’m not familiar with and not even sure if it’s French. Of course, when we got about half a block away, I heard her start the song from the movie that Edith Piaf used for her comeback.

We had lunch then walked along the piers ogling the boats. The largest yacht had its own helicopter complete with a custom cover.

The top picture is the market in Antibes and the bottom is the seaside view of the Musee Oceanographique in Monaco.

Glassmaker Pascal Guyot

Grasse and Biot

Grasse is about an hour drive from Monaco. We hit the public WC and were engulfed by a student protest march as soon as we got back on the street. The French sure know how to put on a march. Apparently they love bringing everything to a standstill without accomplishing a damn thing. This is according to Phillipe, the chef and owner of a restaurant in Paris that Rick Steves recommended. We were his first customers of the evening so we had the place and him to ourselves. While we were perusing the menu, I notice him take a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red and pour about four fingers over rocks then place the glass over the bar into his kitchen workspace. As soon as he served us he went into the kitchen then reappeared with a plate of steak tartare and mashed potatoes and proceeded to sit down to eat and converse with us. He lived in Philadelphia for 3 years where he owned a French takeout place. He’d been back in Paris for about 7 years. He was very funny and I was sure he was gay but then this beautiful child glided in and gave him the 3 cheek kiss saying, “Bonjour Papa.” She was probably 11 or 12 with braces but just absolutely gorgeous. It seems French girls do not have an ugly stage. I heard her talking to Phillipe in the kitchen and repeating, “What are you doing?” in English. They then walked out and asked us how we say, “What are you doing?” which word to accent. We were a little confused as to what they were asking but then I threw my hand out in front of me and said, “What’re ya doin?” The child said “Oui, that’s eet!” and proceeded to mimick it perfectly over and over. It was for her English class apparently. She then left us, going to their home above the restaurant. But … I digress.
Grasse is the perfume capital of France. We had a coffee in the square next to the fountain and did some window shopping before going to the Fraconard museum and perfume factory. I was so impressed, I bought perfume … and I seldom wear perfume. We went back to the square, had lunch, and wandered the narrow streets a little more before getting back on the road headed for Biot.
Biot is known for it’s glassmaking and ceramics. We parked at the foot of the hill and proceeded to scale the side to the top where the old village is. Like on the Eifel Tower, I had to stop a few times. But was it ever worth it! At the top were these very narrow passages with doorways that were framed in potted flowers and vines. The stuff of every romantic picture I had in my head of one of these hilltop villages. There were old public sinks that still were in use. When we got to the square the first shop we saw was Verrerie du Village with creations by Pascal Guyot. The shop was situated at the juncture of two streets, one higher than the other. On the upper street you could look through an open window down into the glassblowing shop. On the lower street you were on the same level as the glassblowers. I could have watched all day except it was really hot because of the furnace. I bought a necklace in the shop. We wandered around, had a beer and decided Biot was our favorite place since leaving Paris.

The first picture is one of the passages in Biot. The second is the fountain in Grasse.

On Sunday we flew Air France from Paris’ Orly airport to Nice. The Orly terminal was confusing. It was a huge round space with ticket agents lining the sides, electronic self check-in in the center and security screening just beyond. On the other side of security were the gates making up the other half of the circle. A ticket agent checked us in at a self serve kiosk then pointed us to where to check in our luggage. They have a 32 kilo limit on bags (our heaviest was 17). The baggage agent told us to go through security at 10:30 for our 11:00 flight. We thought we’d misunderstood but we had plenty of time before our flight so we walked around the attached shopping for a while. When we got back security had cleared out so we went through. One of the screeners remarked that we were early so apparently they prefer to have a huge crush of people all at once.

We picked up our rental car at the airport and hit the road. Fontvielle was about a 30 minute drive. We got lost finding the resort but not for long and fortunately it was Sunday so there wasn’t much traffic. This place is practically right on the pier. In fact, you drive right on the dock to get to the parking garage. A bunch of little Italian kids followed us on their skateboards. One little guy jumped in front of our car and put his hand up for us to stop at a speed bumb so they could skateboard over it. I thought they were pretty cute. Dan’s had it with Italians.

We got settled in and mercifully spread out in our unit then went to an English pub that the receptionist suggested. It was cold and rainy but warm and snug in the small pub where we watched Manchester City play Portsmouth with Italians, French, English and Scots.

On Monday we tackled the supermarket. Note: Don’t go to a supermarket on Monday morning in France. Most are closed on Sunday so along with a whole lot of customers, they were restocking. I spent a good part of the day doing laundry and found out how ventless dryers work. I want one. It was kinda nice relaxing and just doing domestic stuff like laundry and cooking.

The picture at the top is the view just off our balcony.

Stroll through Paree

Central Paris is a wonderful place to just walk. Just make sure you have a guidebook. We started off from our hotel in a new direction and first of all encountered a Japanese film crew setting up a scene on a busy avenue almost across from Napoleon’s Tomb. We stuck around to watch for a while as the film crew rushed around setting up the shot. There were cameras on a crane and also on the ground. The director was placidly sitting behind us looking uninterested.

As we walked toward the tomb the golden statues on top of Pont Alexandre III came into view to our right. I’d been wanting to see this bridge since we arrived so it was a pleasant surprise. We took photos then continued to walk along the Left Bank until we reached the Musee d’Orsay.

We turned at the museum and walked through the St. Germain area. This is a shopping area full of designer clothing, jewelry, and furniture stores. We walked past the Brasserie Lipp where Hemingway is said to have written much of A Farewell to Arms. It’s practically catty-cornered from the cathedral St. Germain-des-Pres which is the oldest church in Paris dating from the 11th century. A Christian church has stood at this sight since the fall of Rome. The original was destroyed by Vikings during the 885-886 siege. We stepped into the cool dark and listened to the chanters as we rested for a while.

After this respite we set out for Ile de la Cite in search of the bouquinistes along the Seine. They started as used book sellers in the mid 1500’s. The waiting list to become one of the 250 bouquinistes is 8 years. They each have 4 boxes attached to the stone wall along the river. They sell more than books but three of their four boxes must be books. They pay rent only on the stone their boxes rest on (less than 100 euro/yr.).

We browsed the bouquinistes without buying then caught the metro back to our hotel. We figure we walked about four miles.

My husband pointed out that I say “merci” a lot like Gomer Pyle said “golly.” MAYRsee. I just say messy now.

A couple of negatives I’ve noticed about Paris:
A lot of owners don’t clean up after their dogs.
Fromageries smell like restaurant dumpsters. The first one I encountered on Rue Cler, I smelled long before we got to it. I was looking all around for a dumpster or sewer grate. The lines from Sweeny Todd’s “Pirellis Miracle Elixer” (“Pardon me sir, what’s that awful stench. Are we standing near an open trench?”) kept running through my mind.

Louvre and St. Chappelle

We got to the Louvre about 30 minutes before it opened and entered straight from the Subway into the mall without having to walk outside. We had coffee and pastry then joined the line underneath the pyramid. It wasn't a long wait. I followed the Rick Steves audio tour that I'd downloaded and the very first think I saw was the Venus d'Milo. Talk about a great start. We were ahead of the pack so could take our time and get as close as we wanted. Unfortunately it didn't last but for the most part, with patience I was able to get as close to the art as I wanted. I saw five, count 'em five, Da Vinci's not counting the Mona Lisa. Winged Victory was awesome placed at the top of a grand staircase. The audio tour took about 2 hours and it only included the Denon wing. We checked out the Egyptian collection in the Sully wing next. We were too tired to tackle the Richelieu wing. Next time.

From there we went to a cafe and had lunch that the R.S. book suggested. It was a great place to sit and watch the street scene.

We then took the metro to St. Chappelle. It was amazing. The play of light through the stained glass was beautiful. Hard to believe the place was built in only 5 years back in the mid 1200's (Notre Dame took 200 years). King Louis IX built it to house the Crown of Thorns which he brought back from Constantinople during the French Crusades. The relic is no longer there. It now resides in the treasury at Notre Dame and only on display the first Friday of the month and during Easter. There are no large images of Christ here. It's all about the crown.

The pics at the top are Da Vinci's St. Anne, The Virgin and Child. Notice how St. Anne resembles Mona Lisa. The altar of St. Chappelle the platform at the top is where the Crown of Thorns resided. And, of course, Venus de Milo but maybe from a different angle than normally photographed.

The End of a Day in Paris

Yesterday we did Notre Dame and tried to tour St. Chappelle but it was closed for a concert. We walked over to the Louvre but we were too tired to go in so we just took in the ginormous mall where the pyramid is. We went back to our hotel and rested up for a while. We soon heard what sounded like a scene from Les Miserable coming from the Ave. de la Motte Picquet (2 blocks away). Looking out our window I could see flags. If we hadn't been so knackered, we would have walked down to check it out. It was a student protest march which seems to be a fairly regular occurence around here. Once we felt like we could move comfortably again, we went around the corner to Rue Cler, got a crepe and walked over to the pier just below the Eifel Tower to see about booking a dinner cruise on the Seine. We were told that the river was too high and the dinner cruise wouldn't be going by Paris but the other way. The only monument the other way was the Statue of Liberty. I wasn't about to spend 95 euro to see the freakin Statue of Liberty. We'll try again before we leave.

We decided to go up the Eifel Tower since we were right there. Each pier has a ticket office. We chose the line that seemed shortest. We chose poorly. It was the "stairs only" line. Somebody didn't believe me when I said repeatedly that I thought escalier meant stairs (the stick figure climbing stairs next to it helped). We got our tickets and proceeded to climb like a million stairs to the first level. I had to stop several times. I guess my pre-trip fitness routine, which consisted of slathering myself with Jergens skin firming lotion every day, fell a little short. When we finally reached the first level we bought lift tickets. The elevator up to the summit was scary but once there it was ... just absolutely ... cold ... and windy ... and crowded. I don't know how, but we always manage to be stuck in a crowd next to the ADHD kid. They have the cattle chute method of line control and this kid was the steer that somehow knows it's about to get castrated. Seriously, it was breathtaking up there.

We ate dinner at a cafe around the corner from the hotel. I spilled a glass of red wine on a velvet upholstered chair as I was trying to sqeeze between tables and not fall over the motorcycle helmet on the floor.

Today, despite being incredibly sore (My hips are bothering me more than anything. What's up with that? Nevermind, I don't want to know) we went to the Musee d'Orsay. Only the main floor was open so it didn't take long. The second floor with the Van Goghs, Monets, and other impressionists was closed.

We walked through the Toullerie to the Musee d'Orangerie and saw a lot of the artists we missed at the Orsay. From there we walked down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. the closer we got to the Arc, the more the area resembled Time Square. We went through a shopping arcade which is like a mall but is actually a covered passage with shops.

The first picture at the top is "Mademoiselle Chanel" by Marie Laurencin. The second is view from the first level of the Eifel Tower with the Sacre Coeur in the distance.

No time to write at the moment. Just wanted to attach the pic of the day. Well, actually yesterday. It's the side of Notre Dame. Pretty, huh.

City of Light

It's 1:00 a.m. here in Paris. I went to sleep around 10:00, had a bad dream (thanks a lot Ghost Hunters) and am now sitting in the dark listening to my husband's nighttime noises ... not for the squeamish. I am trying to be vaywy, vaywy quiet so as not to awaken him. I foresee tomorrow as being a day in which he is full of energy as I plod along next to him. I hope I am wrong and the beauty of the things I will see energize me.

We have a view of the upper third of the Eifel Tower from our room. When I got up a little while ago I looked out the window and the lights on it were all twinkly. I watched until they were turned off for the night. The upper third of the tower has a decidedly phallic look. It's kind of like a giant, illuminated dildo looming over the rooftops out our window.

Customs at DeGalle was a breeze. I stepped up to the agent said "Bonjour, monsieur" to the very young man whereupon he smiled, winked and said, "Merci." The bus ride to Opera metro station took about an hour. We walked, dragging our bags around the Paris Opera to the station. The wheels on mine got stuck in a grate when I was maneuvering around another tourist taking a photo. I've got a new bag that's bigger than the one I used to have which proved a problem on the stairs in the metro -- and there were a lot of stairs. I couldn't pick the bag up high enough to clear the steps. Dan had my old bag so we tried switching but that didn't work either as his bag was much heavier. He ended up giving me his backpack and carried both bags down and when we arrived at our stop for the hotel he practically ran up the stairs with both bags. It was more a case of momemtum than excitement. (Think of Charles Durning taking Claudia's bags upstairs in "Home for the Holidays.") He had to sit on top of one for a while when we got on the street.

We found the hotel easily about three blocks from the stop thanks to our Rick Steves tourist guide. We've now seen 3 other couples carrying the same book. Coincidentally, at both of the cafes we've been to we've been seated next to Americans which here means practically at the same table ... hey, wait a minute, I don't think that's a coincidence. The French are seating us at the equivalent of the childrens' table. Fine, whatever.

Our room is great, tiny, but great. It is one of the recently updated rooms and ultra modern. When we were allowed to check in at 2:00, we were told the water was off until 5:00. That messed up my plans to get a bath, change, and do some more sightseeing. I was so exhausted after walking around for two hours ... we walked up and down Rue Cler and over to the Eifel Tower and got lost coming back ... that I layed down and went to sleep until the water was turned back on at 6:00. While at dinner, my husband was lamenting the fact that we didn't stick to the plan and stay awake until bedtime. My response was a petulant, "I couldn't help it. There was no water." He looked at me like he does when he knows he's got to somehow figure out the connection between my response and his comment.

Want to hear my embarrassing story about the flight over? Of course you do. After dinner, I put on my earphones, donned my inflatable horse collar pillow, closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. I soon realized I had gas. I'm talking bubbling going on from ass to sternum. It had to go somewhere and clench as I might, I became the human equivalent of a motorboat. I was mortified until I realized there was no odor -- know how that happens sometimes -- and miraculously, no sound. So I just relaxed and thought how lucky I was and relieved that I wouldn't have to endure painful bloating. I was just happy as a clam, tooting up a storm until I suddenly realized I had my earphones in. Dear God. I cracked open one eye just long enough to catch a glimpse of the guy across the aisle staring open-mouthed at me.