A Last Day in Paris and Getting to Venice

I am writing from the train that is taking Billie and me to Milan, with a quick change there we’ll be off to Venice. We are passing through mountainous territory, so very beautiful is our view from the valleys that we traverse! Our passports are being inspected by police for the second time – different police, so I believe that we have just passed over into Italy.

Yesterday was brief as both of us managed to sleep quite late into the day after little overnight rest. I bedded down after my early breakfast and happily snoozed until noon. When we headed out it was to the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe on another lovely, sunny day with cool breezes. I have been in Paris in October before and had only steady rain to accompany my walk-abouts.  So we have been ever-so fortunate. The Champs E was crowded with the usual suspects, parading by expensive shops and restaurants, enjoying the sense of just being there, one of the earth’s truly “hot spots.” We purchased some lunch at a Brioche Dore shop – eat in or take out. Later, on our way to the Metro I realized that my small pocket wallet was missing. I don’t believe that it was stolen. I think that I likely put it down or dropped it in the restaurant and simply didn’t notice its loss. We retraced our steps and enquired at the Brioche Dore but to no avail. Luckily it did not contain our passports or the envelope in which I carry most of our euros. It did, however, have my Visa and bank cards – the sources of further cash and charging capabilities. A complicated series of manoeuvers by my Toronto financial colleague ensued. If all goes well, I will receive a temporary card and some euros after we arrive in Venice. The happiness of the global systems.

After this kafuffle Billie and I went one last time to the area of St Michel. I wanted to buy another book to tide me over for reading while we are in Italy. Second-hand English book stores are considerably more difficult to come across there. My friend, Jan had recommended Joanna Trollope, the grand-niece of my hero, Anthony, as a writer of smaller, human stories that sit right in the reading. Anthony’s terrain was considerably broader, taking in the social, political, and ecclesiastical spheres of 19^th century middle and upper classes. So I will settle down to see what Joanna has to offer, endeavouring not to unfavourably compare her to her forebear.

Though we managed so little yesterday, we came back to the hotel every bit as tired as each of the other days. Getting organized for the quick get-away today, eating, and showering took us well into the evening. It’s strange how one can be so entirely pooped and yet lay down one’s head to sleep without the satisfaction of truly letting go. 

Nonetheless we, that is, I, was ready to spring up at 5 AM when my cell phone alarm rang. Billie was considerably slower, but we did get to the train and on board in time – just! I had a little chat with her earlier about her habit of frustrating people by resisting their entreaties to get ready to be off. Of course she laughed it off, saying that she didn’t always do that, but sometimes it just happened. No, I explained, when people act that way to frustrate another, it’s because they want to. They may not understand why they want to, but they want to nonetheless. It’s a great way of getting your own back. I gave her a couple of instructive examples of the ways in which I used to do that. Will she learn from my tutelage? Mmm.

It is now Friday and we are somewhat settled into our new, extremely difficult to locate especially in the dark, digs. So many conundrums yesterday! Mid-way to Milan the friendly barista in the bar car told me that our train did not stop at the station from which one went to Venice. A conductor standing there looked at the tickets that had been e-sent to me and concurred. We had been given only 15 minutes to make the station switch!!!! Besides, the Milan ride was 30 minutes late arriving. Once in Milan we raced to the Trentalia office to be sent elsewhere. We were rerouted to another slightly later departure and given vague instructions how to get to the new station – a 10-minute trip the nice lady assured me. Perhaps for her who understood the vagaries of Metro travel and the locations of each by-way. We arrived just as our train pulled out of the station. No matter, another nice lady routed us to the next train – another hour later. Billie who had been resisting eating or drinking all day was understandably tired and less appealingly grouchy, convinced that all of our difficulties were likely my fault. Also she objected to my groaning about all of the stairs – and there were many – that I had to climb a la mare’s shank, with my suitcase and etc in tow. Nonetheless, we were managing. During our wait I got us both some yummy gelato – Billie demurred but happily ate hers. On the Venice train we sat tight with two gentlemen, one of whom spoke on the phone doing his business for much of the way. Billie and I, I am sure seemed odd to them as we were so clearly disorganized with our stuff and had only grabbed those two empty seats because we had not been assigned any. The sac containing all of our food stuffs had fallen apart just as we got on the train, spreading our biscuits, bananas, etc onto the track-side walkway. We gathered most of it despite the press of others attempting to board, but suffered the loss of our peanut butter (sob) and Nutella. I’m certain we looked most comical to those around us. But still we were on our way, still snoozing a lot but OK.

Once in Venice we made several forays to find our residence – few instructions had been given as to its location. I counted five different people who generously tried to assist us. The last one finally got us there. Up three long flights of stairs with all of our stuff. I thank the lords above that I went to Curves for ten years developing some upper-body strength. Our landlady showed us to our room – one of just three that she lets out of her apartment. A double bed for the two of us. OK, we’ll make it work. And now, c.450 euros cash please. Oops, no money. OK, she’ll wait until I can get some this morning – fingers crossed. We dropped our stuff and went out into the Venetian evening looking for a connecting plug to allow my computer access to the wall unit – I had left the one I had in Paris – a new city, a new item left behind! Luckily we were directed to a tiny electrical shop not too far away and arrived there just as the fellow was about to close. Success – without which I would not now be addressing you. We got Billie a sandwich of indeterminate substance. The man said chicken but Billie said no – but ate it anyway as by then the return of hunger had hit her. We found a cafeteria that I had frequented before where I had a salad. We picked up a few staples and headed back to our new, yet unpaid for, home, working our way through the four sets of keys to get there – the garden gate; the building door; the apartment door; and, our room.

En route we had another little chat about being miserable with another – passive aggressive I labelled it. Billie had heard the term but didn’t understand it. I tried to enlighten her. More conversations to ensue. We are doing well, despite this kind of commentary, however. She can be a most loving child, just a bit hormonal (since the age of about three) around the edges.

So enough for now. Soon I’ll be off through my four security levels to the Western Union to see if they can put me back on proverbial easy street. Then we can really enjoy the loveliness of Venice. And how about those Jays!!! When I went to sleep last night they were up 5-0. I woke up to the happy news of their win.

All the best, and, keep the faith.

Galeries Lafayette and Sacre Coeur

This morning it’s all about the Blue Jay’s win over the Orioles last night. Billie and I went out in the early evening to take a bus down through the city. Once down in the Latin Quarter, however, we opted to get off and stroll along St Germain des Pres, looking at the multitudes who brave the cool night air to sit in three-deep rows outside the famous Parisian cafes. Down St Michel and a stop at the Hagen Daz shop close to the river for a chat with the friendly and not-too-busy server. We indulged, possibly the main reason neither of us was able to go to sleep until long after midnight. I would try but shortly would hop up to see if the Jays game was on yet – it started close to 2:30 AM our time. I went to sleep for about four hours when it was 1-0 for the Jays and arose close to 6:30 for the glorious news of their win!

But back to yesterday. The beautiful fall weather is holding for our visit. In the late morning we went via our local Metro to the Galeries Lafayette. I especially wanted to show Billie the spectacular dome at its center, stained glass a des Artes Nouveaux. She was so distracted by the chi-chi counter displays (not her favorite) that she paid little attention to the upper scenery. She did enjoy, however, the seventh floor terrace where we sat for some time in the bright sunlight with other happy tourists, taking in an overview of the Opera and other nearby gems. One mammoth outer wall of the Galerie is a hanging garden of over a hundred different species of plants, all edible, some important medically. Small photos in a display show about ten of these, explaining the nature and usage of each. It was all quite cheerful. The leader of some students engaged a German couple to take a succession of photos of their group. We retreated to the sixth floor which is dedicated to good food and expensive gifts to carry home. I had some salad while Billie enjoyed the wifi; the costly presents were eschewed.

I had thought of walking about that area but a last second decision put us onto a bus up toward Sacre Coeur. Thinking of the state of feet and legs after days of 10 plus K walks, I opted for the funicular to gain a closer proximity to the church. As we were about to enter, we heard some lively African music just off to the left. We paused to take it in, staying close to a half hour as part of a growing gaggle of passers-by, enchanted by the power and beauty of the music as well as the showmanship of the musicians. They were three – later I found that they were from different countries: Senegal, the Ivory Coast, and a third that I don’t recall. Each could sing and play either their only guitar or the over turned box that they used as a drum. One could make the sound of a horn just with his mouth, moving his fingers the while, as though truly playing that instrument. They went into a lengthy rendition of Stand By Me, in their own languages, French, and English, encouraging us to join in with singing and clapping. Two spectators, a man and a woman, who spoke the African language they were using, joined in with them most beautifully, delighting the musicians and the rest of us. This sequence continued for at least 20 minutes, the crowd continuing to gather and to participate. It was really fun; their musicianship and singing were superb. I purchased their CD to bring them home.

Sacre Coeur was anti-climactic after that display but we walked about and reflected on the significant difference between this church and Billie’s Gothic fav, Notre Dame. From the heights we descended into the streets below, walking that area of artistic days-of-yore, hopped on the Metro and returned chez nous for some supper. I had no trouble getting Billie up yesterday, I’m happy to report. She was getting ready to roll after the first quarter-hour call. We will soon go out to explore the area of the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs Elysees. Tomorrow will be a full day of travel by train to Venice via Milan.

Luxembourg Garden and the Pantheon

Billie was reluctant to get going yesterday morning and mild “words” ensued. The new deal is: I will let her know about an hour in advance when I plan to leave and will remind her every fifteen minutes subsequently. At the given time I will be off, with or without the kid in tow. I believe that she will join me, as she does not relish the prospect of spending several hours on her own in the confines of our room. Billie, in certain moods, likes to test one’s patience – so boring!

Yesterday was a fine day with blue skies and only the occasional puffy white cloud for the sake of commentary. We tried a new method of getting about: the local Metro to St Lazare station, followed by a bus to the left bank area. We disembarked close to the Luxembourg garden, picked up sandwiches and drinks and picnicked beside the inner garden and pool area on the chairs provided. The sun was warm; the breeze cool; the aspect magnificent; the sandwiches yummy. All in all, a utopian respite! From the Luxembourg we walked over to the Pantheon, studying the marvel of Foucault’s pendulum, his experiment still in place today that proved the hypothesis that the earth rotates on its axis. The crypt of the Pantheon houses the earthly, undoubtedly scanty by now, remains of many of France’s “heroes,” of war, science, and the arts. There are even a few heroines like Marie Curie, entombed with the boys! Billie skipped about the halls of the crypt without recognition of names but with the energy of youth in the haunts of the dead. 

Afterward we treated ourselves to over-sized portions of excellent gelato which were on offer just down the street. A walk along Rue de St Michel to Shakespeare & Co to pick up another book – this one by Ishiguro, “An Artist of the Floating World.” As we were so close to Notre Dame Billie begged another viewing. The lines were much shorter than on Sunday so we were inside in a matter of minutes. I sat at the back enjoying the rest while Billie made her way once again around the church. She returned to rest her head on my shoulder and tell me how much she loves this building.

We found a bus to return us to St Lazare considerably easier than we had found one coming in the other direction. We headed for home on the Metro. Billie took all of our paraphernalia upstairs while I went on to the local Monoprix, a large market, to pick up supplies of salad, biscuits, peanut butter, milk, water, cookies, baby carrots, bananas, figs, and apricots – the kind of things upon which we make a light supper. We had been about the city for around six hours, racking up something in the neighbourhood of 14,000 steps, or 7 kilometers in walking and we were happy to settle in for the evening of reading, writing, snacking, and playing cards. Today we will find new adventures and locales.

To the Eiffel Tower

 It’s early in the morning in Paris – about 7:30 – but still fairly dark, though the sky behind the buildings to the south of us has begun to lighten. Billie is sleeping the sleep of the adolescent, deep and restorative. We had a fine day yesterday, losing and finding our way within the labyrinthen Metro system, far more overlapping and complex than our simple Toronto lines. Billie’s main desire in Paris has been to see the Eiffel Tower, so it was to that landmark that we first made our way. We approached it through the Champ de Mer, a large, grassy park where people sat or lay about enjoying the scene and the air. Billie commented after looking about that she could understand why people called Paris a romantic city! This girl is observant.  The Tower itself is so very impressive, even if one has seen it several times. The immense scale, especially when standing underneath its four mammoth “legs,” is wonderful. As in other places that we have seen, the Tower area has changed a fair amount since I was there five years ago with Emily. Security is far tighter. One is inspected while going through a new set of barriers just to enter the site, and once again just before the elevators. We lined with the others for about an hour to buy tickets and then to gain the elevator station. The weather was cool and lovely with intermittent sun and cloudiness. Our fellow tourists were relaxed and happy as were we. Several small children had an outside line that left them free to run up and down with great abandon, to the amusement of each other and of those of us who were simply keeping in proper order.

The elevator took us to the second etage – much higher than I remember being before. It was cooler there with the winds swirling about but the views were magnificent. Billie had told me that she is nervous with heights but seemed entirely unaffected by that condition as we made our way about the second and then the first levels. Glass floors have been placed along the inner edges of the platforms so that one can stand as it were in space looking upon the large painting in the central area below. It was scary and exciting to stand there. On both levels now there are either restaurants or buffets where one can sit and enjoy a meal while looking out upon the broad vista that Paris provides. At the first level we shared a chicken and salad sandwich on a crisp baguette; delicious. It was Sunday and many families were about, taking in the Eiffel with their children, looking into the boutique shops, and like us, marvelling at this wonder of the world that came so close to being dismantled after the end of the exhibition for which it had been constructed. What a terrible loss that would have been.

After the Eiffel we walked over to the nearby Seine. Billie perched on one of the walls overlooking the quay while I held onto her back as a not-really-necessary precautionary measure. How would your mother take it, if I was to bring you home just a pile of broken bones? I asked her. On the roadway between the tower and the river a parade with bands, marchers, and lovely ladies doing a continuous lotus-dance moved passed us. Their banners announced their devotion to Felong Gong (?), the outlawed exercise/spiritual movement of China. Accompanying broadcasts spoke of the harsh treatment given to their fellow cultists in China and asked for the support of bystanders. Further along we found a Metro station from which we reach the Louvre station. To my surprise the exit took us immediately into the Louvre – not the museum proper, but into its enormous surrounding underground mall. A vast space opened out into a corridor of high-end – read, very expensive – shops. I had thought of picking up a salad from a lovely restaurant that Emily and I had gone to when there, but it had morphed into an entire food court – very chic and elegantly appointed. Billie and I walked about briefly and then headed for the exit to the Tuileries garden. The outdoor air was a fine antidote to the overcrowded stuffiness within the mall. It continues to astonish me how much cities and sites that one has known previously can be altered in just a few years by the influx of international money. The garden has undoubtedly had changes as well but appeared its orderly and lovely self. We sat for awhile to take in the lush greenery and to see the intact walls of the ancient palace.

We were both tired and ready to head home by this mid-afternoon point. We made two or three Metro errors, however, that greatly added to our transit time. The Metro knows nothing about the disabled. There are few elevators or escalators. When changing lines, one can walk up and down several sets of stairs and along lengthy passages. It’s a bad idea to use the system when changes are necessary if toting luggage or heavy bags of groceries. But we are learning. A block away from our hotel we have found two supermarches that can provide our necessities. Once home we napped, supped on our snacks, and went for a brief walk in the neighbourhood, by then very quiet and fairly dark. Home for reading and bed.

I was up twice in the night however, keen to check on the final Jay’s game, happy to see that they had won, securing their home game spot for the sudden-death wild card spot tomorrow. In a while I’ll begin negotiations with Billie about getting up and we’ll be off for today’s adventures. 

I regret not being able to post photos. I have only my cell phone for them but as I have it on airplane mode to avoid roaming charges, I cannot send them out. When we return to Toronto, I will do so.

Off to Paris

Billie and I are off on our adventures in Europe: five nights in Paris, five in Venice, and five in Rome. Twenty-eight years ago my older daughter, Elizabeth and I set off for a somewhat more ambitious trip: 19 days on a Trafalger bus lines tour of parts of Western Europe: London, Brussels, Amsterdam, Cologne, Zurich, Liechtenstein, Innsbruck, Verona, Venice, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Nice, Lyons, Paris, and back to London. A definite whirlwind, a first-time European adventure for both of us. She was 11. A few year later I offered to take Catherine on a similar journey, but to her subsequent regret she wasn't interested. But the grandchildren have been. Seven years ago just before Theo's 11th birthday we went off for a tour around Italy. His desire was primarily focused on seeing the Colosseum, Two years later it was Emily's turn. We traveled to London, took the Eurotunnel train to Paris, an overnight train to Venice, on to Florence and Pisa, and then to Rome from where we flew home. So now it's Billie's turn to run around Europe with her Nana, getting her first taste of foreign travel and building up some memories to lean back upon when it comes time for her to venture out on her own. Every one of these trips has been special for me -- a chance to spend some concentrated time with "the kid," showing him or her some of my favorite cities in the world.

Billie and I left Toronto around noon last Friday, September 30, headed for Charlotte, North Carolina with American Air. We had a four hour wait in their international terminal before boarding an overnight flight to Paris. Night flights are truly not the best way to fly. The plane was fine; the service was good; we had lots of movies for entertainment, BUT, neither of us was able to get comfortable enough to get more than an hour's sleep. We poured into Paris a little the worse for wear, though still keen to see the place. Billie is also recovering from bronchitis, a condition that has slowed her down from her usual high energy. We took the REF train to the Gare de Nord, got some advice from the info desk there and made our way via two local buses to our hotel just immediately above the ring road at Porte de Montmartre. The Euro and Paris prices being what they are, I had reserved at a decidedly down-scale operation. We have a tiny room overlooking the ring road. It comes with a double bed over which hangs a single bunk -- Billie opted for the latter; a sink; a tiny triangular shelf upon which sits my computer, and, a chair to complete the picture. No storage space -- so our suitcases and other paraphenalia are spread upon the floor under Billie's ladder; a couple of towels but no soap -- so we must purchase some when we emerge later this morning. Bathing and toilette facilities are shared as in a dorm -- a good sized room down the hall holds several WC units and several showers. It is quite clean and well cared for. So this space has quickly become our home for the next several days.

Arriving here we both fell happily upon our beds for a nap. After an hour or so I had practically to revert to physical violence to rouse Billie from her torpor, however. She hadn't eaten and had barely had anything to drink, despite encouragement, since we had left Toronto. She was seriously dehydrated and exhausted. She did get going however. We took the Metro, changing twice to emerge at Place St. Michel. My first priority was to get something to eat and hopefully to induce Billie to do the same. We settled at a small restaurant in one of the lanes close to the Seine where they serve a three course meal for 10 Euros mid-afternoon. I had hoped that I could get a meal and that Billie would share some of it. But, she refused all offers other than a piece of crusty bread that came with my too large lunch. The owner approached: each patron must order something or begone. Billie ordered tea. It was a start. She was pretty much out for the count, tired and without energy.

From the restaurant we sauntered over to Notre Dame. Billie's interest and excitement grew as it came in sight. WOW. What a building. Inside she became positively animated, ready to walk all about, exclaiming over the magnificence of the ancient church. It was a delight to see her so excited. Her first real taste of the joys of Europe! Later we cruised by the storied Shakespeare & Co. book store, finding a supermarche nearby. There we purchased biscuits, hummus, apples, bananas, yogurt, juice, and Billie's fav -- Nutella. We returned to our "home" in Paris via Metro, tired but pleased with our outing. Supper at home and an early to bed were all we wanted.

Billie is still enjoying her snooze though I will soon get her up and off for more of the city. She is particularly interested in the Eiffel Tower so we will head in that direction first. Then we'll let our feet, the Metro, and our energies dictate directions for the day. More to follow.

Remember to drop us a line about yourself. All news from Canada greatly appreciated. Lots of love. Brenda