Tuesday, August 11, 2009
French Trip 2009
France Trip 2009
It had been 32 years since I last passed through Paris, enroute to Athens, on the Magic Bus, it had only been for a few hours, but it was magical, I was really looking forward to returning on this trip.
Originally it had been planned last year as a joint trip to cover both the British & French Formula 1 Grand Prix’s, both of which were slated to be the last at their respective tracks. Unfortunately the French got cancelled before the season even started due to the financial downfall of the world markets and their main sponsor.
Due to a lot of research on tripadvisor.com I had booked all my trains and hotels in advance when the dollar was at a favourable rate to the Euro, but I had a slight quandary, I only had an hour and a half between arriving at the Gare Nord in Paris on the Eurostar @ 3:50pm and transferring to the SNCF train for Cahor at Gare Austerlitz @ 5:31pm, the SNCF require that you exchange the on-line booking confirmation for a hard ticket (unlike Eurostar) and unfortunately the French ticket machines do not accept American issued credit cards, leaving you the only option of queuing up at a ticket window, which are notoriously slow.
A query on tripadvisor.com solved the problem, someone told me I should try the Rail Europe office on Lower Regent Street, in London, and it worked a treat. I produced my on-line confirmation and credit card and the tickets were issued in seconds. It was such a relief to know that I would not have to line up in Paris, but have time to look around and find some food and wine as the trip to Cahors was over 5 hours.
I had thought Gare Nord would be like St. Pancras in London, which has 2 branch’s of Mark’s & Spencer’s to buy supplies for your trip, (I had some strawberries and a half bottle of bubbly for the Eurostar) but alas all I could find were baguettes and coffee/soft drink kiosks, but not to worry, I had time on my hands, so I went for a quick wander around a few blocks. This being a major rail hub, there had to be something, but alas, again, no. I returned to the Gare defeated and just bought 2 baguettes, then headed down into the Metro. I tried 4 machines and non of them would take cash, all wanted CC’s, I spied a ticket booth on the next level down and headed for it when out of my peripheral vision I spied a cheese and sausage store that had bottles of wine on the shelves, I got a bottle of St. Emillion for 7 euro, sorted, got my Metro ticket and was in Gare Austerlitz with time to have a beer before boarding the train.
I had originally wanted to ride the TGV but it does not go to Cahors, so I had treated myself to First Class and was I glad I did. It was reminiscent of a by gone era of elegance, big comfortable seats, subdued décor and lighting, even a bottle holder by the seat, this was fabulous.
As the Paris suburbs slipped past I opened my first baguette and the first bite was sublime (I was ravenous, it had been over 8 hours since breakfast in London) but how do they do that with just a piece of bread, ham and cheese?
The service cart came by and was I glad I had brought food, even by French standards it looked pretty pathetic but he did have drip coffee which was superb.
After finishing off my second baguette and the last of the wine around 9pm the service cart came by for what he announced as the last time, it was getting to be dusk so I decided to order a cognac with my café, but he said he only had scotch, which he pointed out was written on the side of the cart, I was astounded, here we were hurtling through the heart of France, probably not too far from the Cognac district and the SNCF only serve scotch, I was flabbergasted, this would be tantamount to eating McDonald’s.
When we finally pulled into Cahors, my cousin’s husband Martin was waiting for me on the platform, I figured it would just be him but when I opened the door, the whole family, Bernadine (cousin) Ellen (god-daughter)9, sister Julie-Ann,5, and brother Tommy, almost 3, were all waiting for me, what a great surprise.
It was approx 20 min. drive to our house in St. Medard which they said I would not believer in the morning. They were right, WOW, when I woke up, I was in this incredible medieval hillside town overlooking a lush valley, the type of town you normally only see from the helicopter camera on the Tour de France, heaven.
Friday morning we lounged by the pool as the temperatures soared into the low 30’s Celsius, excellent. In the afternoon we all took a ride into Cahors to have a look and stock up on vittles.
After several wrong turns we finally found a supermarket and oh what a selection, I was in heaven, so many cheeses, foie gras, sausages, hams, local wine etc., I’m in the middle of no-where and the food is still spectacular. If this was America all I would have is a choice of, Winn Dixie or Food Town, bologna & Budweiser. Here a 5 litre jug of local wine is 7 Euros, approx $10, it’s spectacular.
Back at the house I opened a package of fromage wrapped in jamon soaked in oil, I popped 1 in my mouth and was in heaven, I dredged some bread in the oil and WOW, next I opened the foie gras and another WOW, I’m in heaven. Not only is this local “black” wine phenomenal, but this is the heart of the French foie gras production region, fat ducks every where!! I’ll be one soon!
That evening after an afternoon in the pool we barbied up some sausage and steaks, sat out and listened to the crickets symphony, such bliss and so simple, why do we try to complicate our lives so much.
Saturday dawned another beautiful clear blue sky day and I dove into the pool for an early morning swim after which Martin I drove to Catus for some bread from the boulangerie, we were expecting Caroline (Bernadine’s sister) hubby Dermot and kids Louise & Robert. Without coordinating any plans they were staying 60 cliks away in a holiday village and were coming to stay for the night. Louise & Robert are 15 & 13 so Bernadine’s kids look up to them like older siblings, taking the pressure of us to watch them every second, yahoo
The theme did not change much when they arrived, leisurely lunch of foie gras, pate, fromage, sausage, bread and wine, then the afternoon around the pool, looking forward to the evening BBQ, tough life!!
Sunday started much the same way Saturday did, what a surprise! Good coffee, a swim then start talking about lunch, the talk up to lunch can be a great appetizer, like you need one in France.
After a casual lunch, followed by a swim, Caroline and gang left. The temp was back up to the mid 30’s so we decided to take a drive and get the kids some ice cream. I plotted out a circular route going west through the Lot valley past a Chateau with a “view” sign on the map. Well it turned out to be a spectacular view, the chateau was Chateau Fort de Bonaguil, an amazing castle in the Disney Cinderella style, but real, built in the 10th century and a massing point for Knights Templar heading to the holy land during the crusades.
We returned home for another low key BBQ and with every body exhausted we had an early night. Monday, Bernadine and the family were going to visit a friend of hers, Linda, who lives with her family in Toulouse, her husband is an engineer for Airbus. I had met her and her daughter on our Christmas trip to San Remo in 2007 so decided to give the trip a miss.
When I awoke at 10:30am on Monday, the Kelly’s had already left and I was left with a very quiet, empty house, exactly what I needed for a day to recharge my batteries. I made a pot of coffee and headed to the pool for an early swim.
After breakfast I went for a walk around the village and surrounding area to get a real feel for it. We had seen virtually no people over the weekend but today was Monday and in an hour I only saw 3 people, who very nervously said “bonjour”.
I returned to the house drenched in sweat and dove straight into the pool, 1pm and the temp was already 34 Celsius in the shade.
When I finally cooled off it was time to start preparing lunch, jeez, with everyone gone what would I have? I guess I’ll just have the usual, sausage, pate, foie gras, frommage, bread and wine, what a bitch and no TV, I guess I’ll have to look at the spectacular scenery and the bumble bees pollinating the lavender plants, oh well, twist my arm, I’ll give it a go.
Dozing in and out of naps while jumping into the pool to cool off, the afternoon passed quiet sublimely, I beginning to forget there was an outside world, actually I had totally forgotten about the outside world and was only wondering if they (Kelly’s) were having as good a time in Toulouse. It was now approaching Gin n Tonic time but unfortunetly we had polished it all off last night, so I would have to settle for a pastis, oh dear what a bummer, never mind.
We had steaks in the fridge but I really did not fancy firing up the barby to cook one steak so I thought there is no rule that says you cannot have lunch twice, easy choice.
Although I had my Zune (I pod) with me, loaded with movies and music I was not tempted to turn it on as nature was providing a fantastic natural symphony, crickets creaking and swallows swooping for drinks from the pool, it was still light until 10pm. The only sound from civilization was every 20 minutes or so when a car would go down the local road, ahhhh.
It was now 10:30pm and The Kelly’s had not returned, so I figured they must be staying over and I retired for the night. But no, I was wrong, an hour later I was awakened by a knocking at the window. The Kelly’s had returned and I had the key to the upstairs.
Tuesday morning we all took it very easy, they had a very tiring day traipsing around Toulouse and this afternoon we are going to the caves at Gouffre de Padirac followed by a visit to Rocamadour on the return leg.
It was a nice leisurely cross country drive to the caves, and when we arrived it appeared to be a very short queue to enter, but unfortunately the line hardly moved and we were left to bake in the 30+ degree (90+F) sun for almost an hour. Ironically 2 workmen were preparing a canopy to place over a frame for shade but that should have been done in the cool of the morning, to late now.
The cave is very impressive, the initial shaft is 75 meters (250 ft) deep and then there is another 25 meters drop inside the cave entrance to the river, which so far has been explored and surveyed over 20 kilometers (12 ½ miles). The tour starts with a 500 meter boat trip at the end of which you are taken on a guided tour through the grand salon, a giant cave that has been eroded out of the ground, the roof is 94 meters (308 ft) high and there are huge rimstone pools with amazing rock formations, it really is quiet spectacular and a very arduous trip, which they do not warn you about. After a couple of hundred yards through some very narrow passageways, the guide announces that there will be 150 winding steps up, which also means 150 winding steps down, not good when you have an artificial knee or are carrying a 3 year old, like Martin ended up doing with Thomas.
On the return boat trip they have a photo op set-up and the pictures are available when you disembark, actually they are very good.
The whole trip took 1 ½ hours so when we exited we were all famished and headed for a little restaurant for some late lunch before heading to Rocamadour, which is reportedly best viewed at dusk, but that will not happen until 10pm, a little late for the kids.
Rocamadour is only 20 klicks from the cave so we were there by 6pm and parked at the bottom of the cliff and got the little train up but unfortunately it only goes up as far as the main shopping street, I thought it would go all the way to the church at the top.
This is one of the most visited town’s in all of France, a combination of both pilgrims and tourists. For pilgrims, Rocamadour's importance lies with the Shrine of Our Lady of Rocamadour, a complex of religious structures centered on a miraculous statue of the Virgin Mary and the tomb of an ancient saint. The really zealous ones say a rosary as they ascend the steps on their knee’s, ouch.
We got home by 8:30pm and the kids were able to get a last swim in for the day, up until now Martin had been doing all the BBQ’ing so I decided to give it a go, not a good idea. The French charcoal was very light and the fire that I put down to cook 3 steaks died long before I thought it would, oh well, foie gras, jamon, sausage and cheese with bread for dinner, it’s such a tough life.
Wednesday dawned another cloudless beautiful day, it was our last and we were going to visit Caroline this afternoon but I had not seen Cahors yet and Martin graciously offered to drive me in as I was not insured to drive the rental vehicle.
It is a beautiful little city nestled in a loop of the Lot river that was held by the English during the Hundred Years War, the cathedral dates back 1112 and Pope John Paul XXII was born there in 1249, it’s got a bit of history.
We got back for a light lunch and headed for Caroline’s, they were staying in a holiday camp just northwest of Buges, it looked very simple on the map but thank gawd Dermot had put the coordinates in Martin’s GPS on Sunday, we would never have found it.
This place is perfect for families, 2, 3 & 4 bedroom cabins spread though the woods, a restaurant/market area, several playgrounds and a water park with 3 slides, 3 pools and a Jacuzzi, the kids had a great time, it was a perfect last day in the French countryside. As Dermot said, “the only thing missing are The Hogarty’s”, Bernadine and Caroline’s sister’s (Imelda) family.
Thursday morning and we were up at 5am, showered and on the road by 6, The Kelly’s dropped me off at the railroad station and head for the airport, that was the shortest week of my life.
Next stop Paris in just over 5 hours. The trip was very uneventful, good coffee and croissants, a 2 hour nap and I was almost there.
When I alighted at Gare Austerlitz it was baking hot, just like it had been in St. Medard, after lugging my bags up the 2 flights to the Metro I was drenched in sweat, I bought a 3 day 3 zone Paris Visite metro pass for 19.60 euro, this would allow me unlimited metro and bus trip anywhere within the city center for 3 days. (A lot of people on tripadviser.com had recommended a garnet of metro tickets (10) for a 3 day trip, but I used a lot more than 10 trips, even allowing for the transfers).I had to change trains @ Stalingrad for the #2 metro to Pigalle, thank god, like the Japanese, they have vending machines on the platforms,
At Pigalle I found my hotel, The Victor Masse on Rue Victor Masse with no problem thanks to Google street view, which is actually a bad thing, because it takes away some of the excitement of unexplored travel, but in this case it was a good thing as I needed a cold shower, pronto.
I had prepaid through hotels.com so just handed the clerk my confirmation and he handed me a key, done, no credit card, no passport required, this was the easiest check-in I had ever experienced, straight upstairs (elevator) and into the shower, aaaaah.
I was pretty knsckered from the trip and would have loved to lie down for a nap but my stomach thought my throat had been cut so it get changed and head back to Pigalle, which is smaller version of Times Square. Of course there was a baguette shop right on the corner so in I went, a classic jamon w/brie and a Kronenbourg, 7 euro, did someone say Paris is expensive?
Refreshed and sated I headed for the Sacre Coure in Montmartre which was only few minutes walk away, as I expected it was pretty mobbed with tourists and hawkers, had I known there was a train I would have saved my knee the ordeal of the massive steps, but such is life. The Basilica is absolutely beautiful, what an architectural wonder.
The carnival of street performers at the base of the steps was a little disconcerting seeing as this is consecrated ground but the amount of garbage strewn around, mostly glass/plastic bottles, soda/beer cans and food containers was really quiet disgusting, most of it I’m sure came from a vendor who had a kiosk just off to the side and seemed oblivious to the whole situation. I was thirsty but not about to contribute to this guys fortune, I wandered off in disgust.
Around the back of the Basilica where few tourists seemed to venture, I got the most amazing view of Montmartre, I had originally wanted to stay here but had found nothing that I considered quiet right, I had out rightly dismissed “Comfort Inn” but having seen it in person, it is now a candidate for the next trip (this was before I went to the Left Bank).
I wound my way down through the winding street of Montmartre and plonked myself down on a bench on Rue Caulaincourt and watched life go by.
After a rest I walked up to Lemark-Caulaincourt metro and caught the 12 line to Notre-Dame de Lorette, another fantastic Parisian cathedral, the fresco’s on the ceiling are worthy of Leonardo da Vinci, I then got the metro onward to Concorde for a look at The Champs Elysees, I was immediately struck by the square cut of the trees, such detail, but the Arc was a long way off, so I went back downstairs and took the #1 metro to Charles de Gaulle Etolle, WOW I was blown away by the size of the Arc de Triomphe, there is a replica one in Washington Square Park in New York but it is truly miniscule compared to the real thing, I had no idea it was so big, truly impressive.
It was about 5pm and still baking hot, another cold shower beckoned and then out for dinner, it was a very easy trip back to Pigalle on the #2 metro.
Showered and changed, I’m ready to go again by 6pm, I want to have dinner at L’Entrecote by St. Germain, the easiest way was the #2 metro from Pigalle to Rue du Bac and catch a bus along the Blvd. St. Germain.
I was there by 6:30pm, but they were still only setting up, I was starving, but went for a stroll in search of a café for a cold beer. I came across a suitable looking place on the corner of Blvd. St. Michel and had a couple of Kronenbourg’s while watching the world go by, one of the great pleasures of Paris.
After a couple of beers I circled back around to L’Entrecote and it was 80% full, luckily I was able to get a single table outside, it was exactly how I expected it, the waitress merely asked, rare or medium rare, I chose rare with a half bottle of Haut Medoc. Not only was the beef excellent but the frites were also amazing, with coffee and assorted cheeses I was out the door for 50 euro, very reasonable, especially as it’s Paris.
L’Entrecote gets quick a bit of stick on tripadvisor.com from what I presume are so called French foodies, bah humbug, this beef was excellent, the special sauce superb and the frites the best I have ever tasted. Some people seem to think that if you open more than one location you are watering down the product and or making it to accessible which takes away from their exclusitivity, bloody snobs if you ask me.
It had been a very long day since 5am when I got up in St. Medard, so I decided to head back towards Pigalle and have a nightcap in the little bar by the hotel, Pub Frochot, the only non vice bar in the neighbourhood, a quick cognac and I was tucked in by 11pm, what a great first day in Paris, I could not wait for the morning, I was like a child on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa.
Well I must have been tired, I had planned being up and at Notre Dame by 9am, but I only awoke then, it’s rare that I sleep 10 hours straight but sometimes your body just says, enough.
Up and showered I was at Pigalle by 9:30, caught the #2 metro two stops and changed to the #5 to Chatalet /Les Halles. It was another glorious day, not a cloud in the sky and already 70 dergees (19C). I was surprised by Chatelet, I had no idea it was a medevil fortress to protect the Île de la Cité. Also I was very surprised at the size of the towers of Notre Dame, I had expected them to tower over the area but they were actually hard to pick out against the skyline.
I walked over the Pont au Change, past the Palais de Justice, made a left on Rue de Lutece and then a right on Rue de la Cite (funny these are all good French restaurants in New York) and there, finally, in front of me was, Notre Dame, WOW. The Bells master, the Bells.
Upon entering the cathedral, I could not believe they allowed photography, everybody was clicking away, so I joined in and took some great shots of the alters and windows, it really is a magnificent building, I spent 2 hours looking around the place, totally captivated.
Time for lunch as I had skipped breakfast, so I strolled across Petit Pont and down beside St. Vernan church, there were a lot of places offering various 2 & 3 course set lunches and 1 in particular grabbed my attention, escargot appetizer and confit du canard (duck) for 16 euro. I was looking for a café that a friend had recommended, La Palette, on Rue de Seine, but I somehow missed it and ended up back near St. Vernan so I opted for the escargot and canard, they were both delicious with a small carafe of red wine.
Sated, I headed back over the Petit Pont, I had seen a post office earlier and had written some postcards over lunch which I needed stamps for. I then hopped on a bus along the rue de Rivoli to the Louvre, basically all I had seen was the glass pyramid in pictures, the vastness of all the buildings was overwhelming. It was almost 3pm, although it is open till 10pm on Friday’s I did not have ½ a day to spend in there, tomorrow was my last day and there was still so much to see.
From the Louvre I jumped on another bus up to the Opera house, another fantastic building, I could only imagine what it must be like inside and I’m sure the acoustics must be great.
It was now nearing 5pm and time for a beer and a cold shower so time to head for the hotel, I caught a train at Opera and changed at Saint Lazare to Pigalle. A quick cold Kronenbourg at my new local on the corner, a cold shower and I was ready to go again just after 6pm.
My friend, Loic in New York, who is French and had lived in Paris many many moons ago, had given me list of restaurants and La Coupole in Montparnasse, he described as one of the most famous brassieres in Paris and was across the street from Le Select, one of Hemingway’s haunts.
So I headed for Montparnasse, I could be on a double winner here, walking up the street I spied La Coupole on the opposite side but as got closer the wind was taken out of my sails, in front of the name in neon script was “Americana Café”, and it was virtually deserted, no way Jose. I crossed back over the street and sure enough there was Le Select, it had been selected by everyone, there was not an empty chair in the house. There were several more cafes on the block but all less than 50% full, obviously it was Le Select or nothing, so I chose nothing.
There was a bus stop just down the street and I stopped to check where one of them would take me and was surprised to see a route right across the city to Montmartre, perfect, it would be a long but entertaining and educational ride.
Forty minutes later I was in the northern section of Montmartre and disembarked to explore the neighbourhood., I was on the Rue Ordener and knew if I walked up hill I would be headed to Sacre Cour, a couple of blocks up I came to Rue Caulaincourt and made a right. There were cafes everywhere but nothing felt just right until I came to a small place called Café de la Butte, all the outside tables were full but there was plenty of space inside. I did not even look at what people were eating or the menu, it just felt right.
I sat at a small table, there were just 2 girls running the place, 1 waitressing the other making drinks, I ordered a Kronenbourg and perused the menu, I don’t read or speak French but having worked in restaurants for years I know what most foods are but there was 1 special entrée I had no clue what it was, I asked and the waitress, pointing to her midsection and said, veal kidney’s, oh yes, bring it on with more escargot to start and a small carafe of red. The escargot were excellent and the house red the best I had tasted so far in Paris, but the kidney’s were mind blowing. They came with rice and I almost asked frites, but I had a basket of crusty bread in from of me and dipped a piece into the red wine sauce, I was in heaven and the kidney’s just melted in my mouth, WOW, what a find, my instincts were so right, they rarely let me down.
This was the type of meal you don’t want to finish but finish it must, I rounded it off with a cognac & café and headed off into the night vowing to return one day.
Just down the block was a bus stop and I caught a bus down to Blvd. de Clichy to check out The Moulin Rouge, Friday night and it was wall to wall people lining up to pay exorbitant prices for a glass of bubbly and a titillating stage show, not my cup of tea, I had just left Nirvana.
It was now just after 10pm and fully dark, so I decided to make a quick dash back to the Eiffel Tower, to see the light show. The nearest metro station is shown as Bir-Hakeim, which I thought rather weird, it sounds like a terrorist name, but I researched it, and it turns out to be a famous battle site in Libya during WWII, where the French army bought time against the Germans, allowing Monty and the British army to win a crucial battle at El Alamein, which in turn changed the results of the war in North Africa in the Allies favour.
The Eiffel Tower looks spectacular at night all lit up, from standing directly under it and then walking backwards over the Pont d’Lena up to the Trocadero, it just keeps getting better.
It was now after midnight and time to think about getting back to the hotel before the metro closed down, luckily it was just 2 trains from the Trocadero to Pigalle, changing at Charles de Gaulle.
A nightcap at my new local and I was tucked up by 1am. I went to sleep thinking “God I love Paris, those kidney’s were out of this world”.
I guess I really walked a lot on Friday, I was in bed by 1am but did not wake-up till 10am, I had wanted to be out by 9, but better late than never. After last nights ezperience at the Eiffel Tower I could not wait to see it in daylight so I caught the metro to Trocadero.
It was far more crowded than it had been last night and the lines to get up to the first level were huge, there was no way I was going to stand in that and it was annoying the way there were so many young men pushing miniature models of the tower in your face, I took some pictures and walked over to the bus stop on the Pont d’Lena, the #82 went to Luxembourg gardens which would stet me up for lunch at La Paletta in St. Germain.
This seemed like a real good plan until I saw the Eglise Dome of the Musee de L’Armee, I immediately jumped off the bus and was in awe of the structure, this is the home of Napoleon’s tomb. There was a café right there so I sat down had a café and reflected on this amazing building.
I was going to wait for another bus and continue to the Luxembourg Gdns. but the sun was beating down and there was no shade so I walked in the direction the bus was going where there was shade and came across St. Francis Xavier, not only another magnificent church but also a metro station, looking at the map I could not be bothered taking 3 trains to get to Luxembourg to I headed back across the river and got off at Champs Elysees Clemenceau beside the Grand and Petit Palais, more awesome buildings and a fantastic view across Pont Alexander III down to Les Invalides, this must be some sceptical when it is all lit up at night. Now I know why they call Paris the “City of Lights”.
I caught the #72 bus along the right bank of the Seine, past the Louvre to the Pont Des Arts where I alighted, walked across the bridge and down Rue de Seine to La Palette for lunch. I started with a large Kronenbourg and some moules then surprised the waiter by ordering the plat du jour, which was boeuf tar tar with a glass of rouge. It was a little annoying that they did not have a house wine by the carafe, only glasses from well known regions, which were expensive.
As I said, that was a little annoying, what was really annoying was the middle aged well dressed woman who sat down at the next table whom I assumed was French as she quizzed the waiter about the menu but I was wrong. She received a beer first then her food, a frankfurter with frites and she requested ketchup, I was most surprised, but then the real insult happened, her cell phone rang, she answered with an American accent and proceeded to have a trans-Atlantic conversation while eating, how uncivilized and what must the person on the other end thought of all the chomping, disgusting, no wonder the French hate American’s and which is why I was using my best British.
The food and wine had been delightful but the experience was less memorable.
I started walking around some of the smaller streets of St. Germain/Latin Quarter and came across a restaurant “Le Procope” that claimed to be the oldest in Paris, ( it was later confirmed as the oldest Parisian café in a PBS documentary, founded in 1686. Procope was actually Sicilian),I looked inside and it was a very nice old world dining room and the menu looked very good, the Brochette Boeuf was highlighted and that was what I wanted for my last supper. I would return.
Out on the Blvd. St. Germain I caught a bus towards The Bastille, I knew there was nothing left of the old prison but it is known as a very bohemian district, I walked around and found nothing exceptional about it, except for the Spirit of Liberty atop the Bastile monument. I hopped on another bus up to Place de la Republique, I had came very close to booking a hotel here and wanted to see if I had been wrong to change to Pigalle. Although it was quiet picturesque with the canal and locks there was a decided lack of decent looking cafes and restaurants so I think I made the right choice.
As the Gare de Nord was on the way back to my hotel I decided to check out the RER for tomorrow morning’s trip to CDG, it was all straight forward, I then went outside and got a bus to Pigalle, this would be the same bus I would get in the morning.
It had been a long day and I knew where I was having dinner so I stopped into my local for a couple of cold Kronenbourgs, there were four English lads at the bar who had just arrived on the Eurostar, I gave them a few pointers, but I think they were there more for the red-lights than the historical ones.
As previously I caught the 12 metro from Pigalle to Rue de Bac and then the bus to St. Germain getting around was now becoming very second nature.
I found Le Procope with no problem but it was a little early for dinner, there was a very lively bar/restaurant next door so I thought I would try it for a gin & tonic.
I walked in, ordered a G&T and noticed the guy sitting next to me was a waiter, (black shirt n’ pants, dead give away), hearing my English accent he turned and asked if I was enjoying my stay in Paris, in very guttural French, almost condescending, but there was a word in his question which did not sound right. I was possessing it and trying to say I was having a blast when it hit me, he was a Californian. I proffered this idea to him and he admitted, he was from San Diego, his father German and mother French, they had emigrated to California, but after leaving high school, he had always wanted to live in France, he had now been here 10 years and was considered a great waiter, attitude included.
After my couple of aperitifs I went next door to Le Procope, I got a table for one next to a couple who were very chatty, she was from the Czech Republic and he was from Norway, it seemed like a very strange arrangement, but who am I to judge, we got talking about travel and next thing you know she is inviting me to Czech Rep., I would have lot of fun!! I’m sure I would, if my bank balance was as high as she thought.
A few minutes later their seafood main course arrived and it was spectacular, a huge silver platter set on a stand above their plates, there were lobsters, crabs, shrimp, mussels, calamari, various filets, just a superb smorgasbord of seafood, it reminded me of a similar feast I had shared with my friend, Steve Whittle in Watson’s Bay, Australia.
My escargot followed by Brochette Boeuf looked rather miniscule compared to the feast on the next table. We said our goodbyes over café and I wandered off into the Parisian night. It was now close to 10pm and I had to be up by 6am so I walked up through The Latin Quarter towards the river and found a fantastic open air party happening on the Mitterand footbridge, young people had spread blankets out all over the bridge and were having picnics, there were musicians playing and it was a very joyous situation, I was so envious that I had to leave.
I caught the metro back to Pigalle and had a final nightcap at my new corner local.
Au Revoir Paris, I shall return.
It had been 32 years since I last passed through Paris, enroute to Athens, on the Magic Bus, it had only been for a few hours, but it was magical, I was really looking forward to returning on this trip.
Originally it had been planned last year as a joint trip to cover both the British & French Formula 1 Grand Prix’s, both of which were slated to be the last at their respective tracks. Unfortunately the French got cancelled before the season even started due to the financial downfall of the world markets and their main sponsor.
Due to a lot of research on tripadvisor.com I had booked all my trains and hotels in advance when the dollar was at a favourable rate to the Euro, but I had a slight quandary, I only had an hour and a half between arriving at the Gare Nord in Paris on the Eurostar @ 3:50pm and transferring to the SNCF train for Cahor at Gare Austerlitz @ 5:31pm, the SNCF require that you exchange the on-line booking confirmation for a hard ticket (unlike Eurostar) and unfortunately the French ticket machines do not accept American issued credit cards, leaving you the only option of queuing up at a ticket window, which are notoriously slow.
A query on tripadvisor.com solved the problem, someone told me I should try the Rail Europe office on Lower Regent Street, in London, and it worked a treat. I produced my on-line confirmation and credit card and the tickets were issued in seconds. It was such a relief to know that I would not have to line up in Paris, but have time to look around and find some food and wine as the trip to Cahors was over 5 hours.
I had thought Gare Nord would be like St. Pancras in London, which has 2 branch’s of Mark’s & Spencer’s to buy supplies for your trip, (I had some strawberries and a half bottle of bubbly for the Eurostar) but alas all I could find were baguettes and coffee/soft drink kiosks, but not to worry, I had time on my hands, so I went for a quick wander around a few blocks. This being a major rail hub, there had to be something, but alas, again, no. I returned to the Gare defeated and just bought 2 baguettes, then headed down into the Metro. I tried 4 machines and non of them would take cash, all wanted CC’s, I spied a ticket booth on the next level down and headed for it when out of my peripheral vision I spied a cheese and sausage store that had bottles of wine on the shelves, I got a bottle of St. Emillion for 7 euro, sorted, got my Metro ticket and was in Gare Austerlitz with time to have a beer before boarding the train.
I had originally wanted to ride the TGV but it does not go to Cahors, so I had treated myself to First Class and was I glad I did. It was reminiscent of a by gone era of elegance, big comfortable seats, subdued décor and lighting, even a bottle holder by the seat, this was fabulous.
As the Paris suburbs slipped past I opened my first baguette and the first bite was sublime (I was ravenous, it had been over 8 hours since breakfast in London) but how do they do that with just a piece of bread, ham and cheese?
The service cart came by and was I glad I had brought food, even by French standards it looked pretty pathetic but he did have drip coffee which was superb.
After finishing off my second baguette and the last of the wine around 9pm the service cart came by for what he announced as the last time, it was getting to be dusk so I decided to order a cognac with my café, but he said he only had scotch, which he pointed out was written on the side of the cart, I was astounded, here we were hurtling through the heart of France, probably not too far from the Cognac district and the SNCF only serve scotch, I was flabbergasted, this would be tantamount to eating McDonald’s.
When we finally pulled into Cahors, my cousin’s husband Martin was waiting for me on the platform, I figured it would just be him but when I opened the door, the whole family, Bernadine (cousin) Ellen (god-daughter)9, sister Julie-Ann,5, and brother Tommy, almost 3, were all waiting for me, what a great surprise.
It was approx 20 min. drive to our house in St. Medard which they said I would not believer in the morning. They were right, WOW, when I woke up, I was in this incredible medieval hillside town overlooking a lush valley, the type of town you normally only see from the helicopter camera on the Tour de France, heaven.
Friday morning we lounged by the pool as the temperatures soared into the low 30’s Celsius, excellent. In the afternoon we all took a ride into Cahors to have a look and stock up on vittles.
After several wrong turns we finally found a supermarket and oh what a selection, I was in heaven, so many cheeses, foie gras, sausages, hams, local wine etc., I’m in the middle of no-where and the food is still spectacular. If this was America all I would have is a choice of, Winn Dixie or Food Town, bologna & Budweiser. Here a 5 litre jug of local wine is 7 Euros, approx $10, it’s spectacular.
Back at the house I opened a package of fromage wrapped in jamon soaked in oil, I popped 1 in my mouth and was in heaven, I dredged some bread in the oil and WOW, next I opened the foie gras and another WOW, I’m in heaven. Not only is this local “black” wine phenomenal, but this is the heart of the French foie gras production region, fat ducks every where!! I’ll be one soon!
That evening after an afternoon in the pool we barbied up some sausage and steaks, sat out and listened to the crickets symphony, such bliss and so simple, why do we try to complicate our lives so much.
Saturday dawned another beautiful clear blue sky day and I dove into the pool for an early morning swim after which Martin I drove to Catus for some bread from the boulangerie, we were expecting Caroline (Bernadine’s sister) hubby Dermot and kids Louise & Robert. Without coordinating any plans they were staying 60 cliks away in a holiday village and were coming to stay for the night. Louise & Robert are 15 & 13 so Bernadine’s kids look up to them like older siblings, taking the pressure of us to watch them every second, yahoo
The theme did not change much when they arrived, leisurely lunch of foie gras, pate, fromage, sausage, bread and wine, then the afternoon around the pool, looking forward to the evening BBQ, tough life!!
Sunday started much the same way Saturday did, what a surprise! Good coffee, a swim then start talking about lunch, the talk up to lunch can be a great appetizer, like you need one in France.
After a casual lunch, followed by a swim, Caroline and gang left. The temp was back up to the mid 30’s so we decided to take a drive and get the kids some ice cream. I plotted out a circular route going west through the Lot valley past a Chateau with a “view” sign on the map. Well it turned out to be a spectacular view, the chateau was Chateau Fort de Bonaguil, an amazing castle in the Disney Cinderella style, but real, built in the 10th century and a massing point for Knights Templar heading to the holy land during the crusades.
We returned home for another low key BBQ and with every body exhausted we had an early night. Monday, Bernadine and the family were going to visit a friend of hers, Linda, who lives with her family in Toulouse, her husband is an engineer for Airbus. I had met her and her daughter on our Christmas trip to San Remo in 2007 so decided to give the trip a miss.
When I awoke at 10:30am on Monday, the Kelly’s had already left and I was left with a very quiet, empty house, exactly what I needed for a day to recharge my batteries. I made a pot of coffee and headed to the pool for an early swim.
After breakfast I went for a walk around the village and surrounding area to get a real feel for it. We had seen virtually no people over the weekend but today was Monday and in an hour I only saw 3 people, who very nervously said “bonjour”.
I returned to the house drenched in sweat and dove straight into the pool, 1pm and the temp was already 34 Celsius in the shade.
When I finally cooled off it was time to start preparing lunch, jeez, with everyone gone what would I have? I guess I’ll just have the usual, sausage, pate, foie gras, frommage, bread and wine, what a bitch and no TV, I guess I’ll have to look at the spectacular scenery and the bumble bees pollinating the lavender plants, oh well, twist my arm, I’ll give it a go.
Dozing in and out of naps while jumping into the pool to cool off, the afternoon passed quiet sublimely, I beginning to forget there was an outside world, actually I had totally forgotten about the outside world and was only wondering if they (Kelly’s) were having as good a time in Toulouse. It was now approaching Gin n Tonic time but unfortunetly we had polished it all off last night, so I would have to settle for a pastis, oh dear what a bummer, never mind.
We had steaks in the fridge but I really did not fancy firing up the barby to cook one steak so I thought there is no rule that says you cannot have lunch twice, easy choice.
Although I had my Zune (I pod) with me, loaded with movies and music I was not tempted to turn it on as nature was providing a fantastic natural symphony, crickets creaking and swallows swooping for drinks from the pool, it was still light until 10pm. The only sound from civilization was every 20 minutes or so when a car would go down the local road, ahhhh.
It was now 10:30pm and The Kelly’s had not returned, so I figured they must be staying over and I retired for the night. But no, I was wrong, an hour later I was awakened by a knocking at the window. The Kelly’s had returned and I had the key to the upstairs.
Tuesday morning we all took it very easy, they had a very tiring day traipsing around Toulouse and this afternoon we are going to the caves at Gouffre de Padirac followed by a visit to Rocamadour on the return leg.
It was a nice leisurely cross country drive to the caves, and when we arrived it appeared to be a very short queue to enter, but unfortunately the line hardly moved and we were left to bake in the 30+ degree (90+F) sun for almost an hour. Ironically 2 workmen were preparing a canopy to place over a frame for shade but that should have been done in the cool of the morning, to late now.
The cave is very impressive, the initial shaft is 75 meters (250 ft) deep and then there is another 25 meters drop inside the cave entrance to the river, which so far has been explored and surveyed over 20 kilometers (12 ½ miles). The tour starts with a 500 meter boat trip at the end of which you are taken on a guided tour through the grand salon, a giant cave that has been eroded out of the ground, the roof is 94 meters (308 ft) high and there are huge rimstone pools with amazing rock formations, it really is quiet spectacular and a very arduous trip, which they do not warn you about. After a couple of hundred yards through some very narrow passageways, the guide announces that there will be 150 winding steps up, which also means 150 winding steps down, not good when you have an artificial knee or are carrying a 3 year old, like Martin ended up doing with Thomas.
On the return boat trip they have a photo op set-up and the pictures are available when you disembark, actually they are very good.
The whole trip took 1 ½ hours so when we exited we were all famished and headed for a little restaurant for some late lunch before heading to Rocamadour, which is reportedly best viewed at dusk, but that will not happen until 10pm, a little late for the kids.
Rocamadour is only 20 klicks from the cave so we were there by 6pm and parked at the bottom of the cliff and got the little train up but unfortunately it only goes up as far as the main shopping street, I thought it would go all the way to the church at the top.
This is one of the most visited town’s in all of France, a combination of both pilgrims and tourists. For pilgrims, Rocamadour's importance lies with the Shrine of Our Lady of Rocamadour, a complex of religious structures centered on a miraculous statue of the Virgin Mary and the tomb of an ancient saint. The really zealous ones say a rosary as they ascend the steps on their knee’s, ouch.
We got home by 8:30pm and the kids were able to get a last swim in for the day, up until now Martin had been doing all the BBQ’ing so I decided to give it a go, not a good idea. The French charcoal was very light and the fire that I put down to cook 3 steaks died long before I thought it would, oh well, foie gras, jamon, sausage and cheese with bread for dinner, it’s such a tough life.
Wednesday dawned another cloudless beautiful day, it was our last and we were going to visit Caroline this afternoon but I had not seen Cahors yet and Martin graciously offered to drive me in as I was not insured to drive the rental vehicle.
It is a beautiful little city nestled in a loop of the Lot river that was held by the English during the Hundred Years War, the cathedral dates back 1112 and Pope John Paul XXII was born there in 1249, it’s got a bit of history.
We got back for a light lunch and headed for Caroline’s, they were staying in a holiday camp just northwest of Buges, it looked very simple on the map but thank gawd Dermot had put the coordinates in Martin’s GPS on Sunday, we would never have found it.
This place is perfect for families, 2, 3 & 4 bedroom cabins spread though the woods, a restaurant/market area, several playgrounds and a water park with 3 slides, 3 pools and a Jacuzzi, the kids had a great time, it was a perfect last day in the French countryside. As Dermot said, “the only thing missing are The Hogarty’s”, Bernadine and Caroline’s sister’s (Imelda) family.
Thursday morning and we were up at 5am, showered and on the road by 6, The Kelly’s dropped me off at the railroad station and head for the airport, that was the shortest week of my life.
Next stop Paris in just over 5 hours. The trip was very uneventful, good coffee and croissants, a 2 hour nap and I was almost there.
When I alighted at Gare Austerlitz it was baking hot, just like it had been in St. Medard, after lugging my bags up the 2 flights to the Metro I was drenched in sweat, I bought a 3 day 3 zone Paris Visite metro pass for 19.60 euro, this would allow me unlimited metro and bus trip anywhere within the city center for 3 days. (A lot of people on tripadviser.com had recommended a garnet of metro tickets (10) for a 3 day trip, but I used a lot more than 10 trips, even allowing for the transfers).I had to change trains @ Stalingrad for the #2 metro to Pigalle, thank god, like the Japanese, they have vending machines on the platforms,
At Pigalle I found my hotel, The Victor Masse on Rue Victor Masse with no problem thanks to Google street view, which is actually a bad thing, because it takes away some of the excitement of unexplored travel, but in this case it was a good thing as I needed a cold shower, pronto.
I had prepaid through hotels.com so just handed the clerk my confirmation and he handed me a key, done, no credit card, no passport required, this was the easiest check-in I had ever experienced, straight upstairs (elevator) and into the shower, aaaaah.
I was pretty knsckered from the trip and would have loved to lie down for a nap but my stomach thought my throat had been cut so it get changed and head back to Pigalle, which is smaller version of Times Square. Of course there was a baguette shop right on the corner so in I went, a classic jamon w/brie and a Kronenbourg, 7 euro, did someone say Paris is expensive?
Refreshed and sated I headed for the Sacre Coure in Montmartre which was only few minutes walk away, as I expected it was pretty mobbed with tourists and hawkers, had I known there was a train I would have saved my knee the ordeal of the massive steps, but such is life. The Basilica is absolutely beautiful, what an architectural wonder.
The carnival of street performers at the base of the steps was a little disconcerting seeing as this is consecrated ground but the amount of garbage strewn around, mostly glass/plastic bottles, soda/beer cans and food containers was really quiet disgusting, most of it I’m sure came from a vendor who had a kiosk just off to the side and seemed oblivious to the whole situation. I was thirsty but not about to contribute to this guys fortune, I wandered off in disgust.
Around the back of the Basilica where few tourists seemed to venture, I got the most amazing view of Montmartre, I had originally wanted to stay here but had found nothing that I considered quiet right, I had out rightly dismissed “Comfort Inn” but having seen it in person, it is now a candidate for the next trip (this was before I went to the Left Bank).
I wound my way down through the winding street of Montmartre and plonked myself down on a bench on Rue Caulaincourt and watched life go by.
After a rest I walked up to Lemark-Caulaincourt metro and caught the 12 line to Notre-Dame de Lorette, another fantastic Parisian cathedral, the fresco’s on the ceiling are worthy of Leonardo da Vinci, I then got the metro onward to Concorde for a look at The Champs Elysees, I was immediately struck by the square cut of the trees, such detail, but the Arc was a long way off, so I went back downstairs and took the #1 metro to Charles de Gaulle Etolle, WOW I was blown away by the size of the Arc de Triomphe, there is a replica one in Washington Square Park in New York but it is truly miniscule compared to the real thing, I had no idea it was so big, truly impressive.
It was about 5pm and still baking hot, another cold shower beckoned and then out for dinner, it was a very easy trip back to Pigalle on the #2 metro.
Showered and changed, I’m ready to go again by 6pm, I want to have dinner at L’Entrecote by St. Germain, the easiest way was the #2 metro from Pigalle to Rue du Bac and catch a bus along the Blvd. St. Germain.
I was there by 6:30pm, but they were still only setting up, I was starving, but went for a stroll in search of a café for a cold beer. I came across a suitable looking place on the corner of Blvd. St. Michel and had a couple of Kronenbourg’s while watching the world go by, one of the great pleasures of Paris.
After a couple of beers I circled back around to L’Entrecote and it was 80% full, luckily I was able to get a single table outside, it was exactly how I expected it, the waitress merely asked, rare or medium rare, I chose rare with a half bottle of Haut Medoc. Not only was the beef excellent but the frites were also amazing, with coffee and assorted cheeses I was out the door for 50 euro, very reasonable, especially as it’s Paris.
L’Entrecote gets quick a bit of stick on tripadvisor.com from what I presume are so called French foodies, bah humbug, this beef was excellent, the special sauce superb and the frites the best I have ever tasted. Some people seem to think that if you open more than one location you are watering down the product and or making it to accessible which takes away from their exclusitivity, bloody snobs if you ask me.
It had been a very long day since 5am when I got up in St. Medard, so I decided to head back towards Pigalle and have a nightcap in the little bar by the hotel, Pub Frochot, the only non vice bar in the neighbourhood, a quick cognac and I was tucked in by 11pm, what a great first day in Paris, I could not wait for the morning, I was like a child on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa.
Well I must have been tired, I had planned being up and at Notre Dame by 9am, but I only awoke then, it’s rare that I sleep 10 hours straight but sometimes your body just says, enough.
Up and showered I was at Pigalle by 9:30, caught the #2 metro two stops and changed to the #5 to Chatalet /Les Halles. It was another glorious day, not a cloud in the sky and already 70 dergees (19C). I was surprised by Chatelet, I had no idea it was a medevil fortress to protect the Île de la Cité. Also I was very surprised at the size of the towers of Notre Dame, I had expected them to tower over the area but they were actually hard to pick out against the skyline.
I walked over the Pont au Change, past the Palais de Justice, made a left on Rue de Lutece and then a right on Rue de la Cite (funny these are all good French restaurants in New York) and there, finally, in front of me was, Notre Dame, WOW. The Bells master, the Bells.
Upon entering the cathedral, I could not believe they allowed photography, everybody was clicking away, so I joined in and took some great shots of the alters and windows, it really is a magnificent building, I spent 2 hours looking around the place, totally captivated.
Time for lunch as I had skipped breakfast, so I strolled across Petit Pont and down beside St. Vernan church, there were a lot of places offering various 2 & 3 course set lunches and 1 in particular grabbed my attention, escargot appetizer and confit du canard (duck) for 16 euro. I was looking for a café that a friend had recommended, La Palette, on Rue de Seine, but I somehow missed it and ended up back near St. Vernan so I opted for the escargot and canard, they were both delicious with a small carafe of red wine.
Sated, I headed back over the Petit Pont, I had seen a post office earlier and had written some postcards over lunch which I needed stamps for. I then hopped on a bus along the rue de Rivoli to the Louvre, basically all I had seen was the glass pyramid in pictures, the vastness of all the buildings was overwhelming. It was almost 3pm, although it is open till 10pm on Friday’s I did not have ½ a day to spend in there, tomorrow was my last day and there was still so much to see.
From the Louvre I jumped on another bus up to the Opera house, another fantastic building, I could only imagine what it must be like inside and I’m sure the acoustics must be great.
It was now nearing 5pm and time for a beer and a cold shower so time to head for the hotel, I caught a train at Opera and changed at Saint Lazare to Pigalle. A quick cold Kronenbourg at my new local on the corner, a cold shower and I was ready to go again just after 6pm.
My friend, Loic in New York, who is French and had lived in Paris many many moons ago, had given me list of restaurants and La Coupole in Montparnasse, he described as one of the most famous brassieres in Paris and was across the street from Le Select, one of Hemingway’s haunts.
So I headed for Montparnasse, I could be on a double winner here, walking up the street I spied La Coupole on the opposite side but as got closer the wind was taken out of my sails, in front of the name in neon script was “Americana Café”, and it was virtually deserted, no way Jose. I crossed back over the street and sure enough there was Le Select, it had been selected by everyone, there was not an empty chair in the house. There were several more cafes on the block but all less than 50% full, obviously it was Le Select or nothing, so I chose nothing.
There was a bus stop just down the street and I stopped to check where one of them would take me and was surprised to see a route right across the city to Montmartre, perfect, it would be a long but entertaining and educational ride.
Forty minutes later I was in the northern section of Montmartre and disembarked to explore the neighbourhood., I was on the Rue Ordener and knew if I walked up hill I would be headed to Sacre Cour, a couple of blocks up I came to Rue Caulaincourt and made a right. There were cafes everywhere but nothing felt just right until I came to a small place called Café de la Butte, all the outside tables were full but there was plenty of space inside. I did not even look at what people were eating or the menu, it just felt right.
I sat at a small table, there were just 2 girls running the place, 1 waitressing the other making drinks, I ordered a Kronenbourg and perused the menu, I don’t read or speak French but having worked in restaurants for years I know what most foods are but there was 1 special entrée I had no clue what it was, I asked and the waitress, pointing to her midsection and said, veal kidney’s, oh yes, bring it on with more escargot to start and a small carafe of red. The escargot were excellent and the house red the best I had tasted so far in Paris, but the kidney’s were mind blowing. They came with rice and I almost asked frites, but I had a basket of crusty bread in from of me and dipped a piece into the red wine sauce, I was in heaven and the kidney’s just melted in my mouth, WOW, what a find, my instincts were so right, they rarely let me down.
This was the type of meal you don’t want to finish but finish it must, I rounded it off with a cognac & café and headed off into the night vowing to return one day.
Just down the block was a bus stop and I caught a bus down to Blvd. de Clichy to check out The Moulin Rouge, Friday night and it was wall to wall people lining up to pay exorbitant prices for a glass of bubbly and a titillating stage show, not my cup of tea, I had just left Nirvana.
It was now just after 10pm and fully dark, so I decided to make a quick dash back to the Eiffel Tower, to see the light show. The nearest metro station is shown as Bir-Hakeim, which I thought rather weird, it sounds like a terrorist name, but I researched it, and it turns out to be a famous battle site in Libya during WWII, where the French army bought time against the Germans, allowing Monty and the British army to win a crucial battle at El Alamein, which in turn changed the results of the war in North Africa in the Allies favour.
The Eiffel Tower looks spectacular at night all lit up, from standing directly under it and then walking backwards over the Pont d’Lena up to the Trocadero, it just keeps getting better.
It was now after midnight and time to think about getting back to the hotel before the metro closed down, luckily it was just 2 trains from the Trocadero to Pigalle, changing at Charles de Gaulle.
A nightcap at my new local and I was tucked up by 1am. I went to sleep thinking “God I love Paris, those kidney’s were out of this world”.
I guess I really walked a lot on Friday, I was in bed by 1am but did not wake-up till 10am, I had wanted to be out by 9, but better late than never. After last nights ezperience at the Eiffel Tower I could not wait to see it in daylight so I caught the metro to Trocadero.
It was far more crowded than it had been last night and the lines to get up to the first level were huge, there was no way I was going to stand in that and it was annoying the way there were so many young men pushing miniature models of the tower in your face, I took some pictures and walked over to the bus stop on the Pont d’Lena, the #82 went to Luxembourg gardens which would stet me up for lunch at La Paletta in St. Germain.
This seemed like a real good plan until I saw the Eglise Dome of the Musee de L’Armee, I immediately jumped off the bus and was in awe of the structure, this is the home of Napoleon’s tomb. There was a café right there so I sat down had a café and reflected on this amazing building.
I was going to wait for another bus and continue to the Luxembourg Gdns. but the sun was beating down and there was no shade so I walked in the direction the bus was going where there was shade and came across St. Francis Xavier, not only another magnificent church but also a metro station, looking at the map I could not be bothered taking 3 trains to get to Luxembourg to I headed back across the river and got off at Champs Elysees Clemenceau beside the Grand and Petit Palais, more awesome buildings and a fantastic view across Pont Alexander III down to Les Invalides, this must be some sceptical when it is all lit up at night. Now I know why they call Paris the “City of Lights”.
I caught the #72 bus along the right bank of the Seine, past the Louvre to the Pont Des Arts where I alighted, walked across the bridge and down Rue de Seine to La Palette for lunch. I started with a large Kronenbourg and some moules then surprised the waiter by ordering the plat du jour, which was boeuf tar tar with a glass of rouge. It was a little annoying that they did not have a house wine by the carafe, only glasses from well known regions, which were expensive.
As I said, that was a little annoying, what was really annoying was the middle aged well dressed woman who sat down at the next table whom I assumed was French as she quizzed the waiter about the menu but I was wrong. She received a beer first then her food, a frankfurter with frites and she requested ketchup, I was most surprised, but then the real insult happened, her cell phone rang, she answered with an American accent and proceeded to have a trans-Atlantic conversation while eating, how uncivilized and what must the person on the other end thought of all the chomping, disgusting, no wonder the French hate American’s and which is why I was using my best British.
The food and wine had been delightful but the experience was less memorable.
I started walking around some of the smaller streets of St. Germain/Latin Quarter and came across a restaurant “Le Procope” that claimed to be the oldest in Paris, ( it was later confirmed as the oldest Parisian café in a PBS documentary, founded in 1686. Procope was actually Sicilian),I looked inside and it was a very nice old world dining room and the menu looked very good, the Brochette Boeuf was highlighted and that was what I wanted for my last supper. I would return.
Out on the Blvd. St. Germain I caught a bus towards The Bastille, I knew there was nothing left of the old prison but it is known as a very bohemian district, I walked around and found nothing exceptional about it, except for the Spirit of Liberty atop the Bastile monument. I hopped on another bus up to Place de la Republique, I had came very close to booking a hotel here and wanted to see if I had been wrong to change to Pigalle. Although it was quiet picturesque with the canal and locks there was a decided lack of decent looking cafes and restaurants so I think I made the right choice.
As the Gare de Nord was on the way back to my hotel I decided to check out the RER for tomorrow morning’s trip to CDG, it was all straight forward, I then went outside and got a bus to Pigalle, this would be the same bus I would get in the morning.
It had been a long day and I knew where I was having dinner so I stopped into my local for a couple of cold Kronenbourgs, there were four English lads at the bar who had just arrived on the Eurostar, I gave them a few pointers, but I think they were there more for the red-lights than the historical ones.
As previously I caught the 12 metro from Pigalle to Rue de Bac and then the bus to St. Germain getting around was now becoming very second nature.
I found Le Procope with no problem but it was a little early for dinner, there was a very lively bar/restaurant next door so I thought I would try it for a gin & tonic.
I walked in, ordered a G&T and noticed the guy sitting next to me was a waiter, (black shirt n’ pants, dead give away), hearing my English accent he turned and asked if I was enjoying my stay in Paris, in very guttural French, almost condescending, but there was a word in his question which did not sound right. I was possessing it and trying to say I was having a blast when it hit me, he was a Californian. I proffered this idea to him and he admitted, he was from San Diego, his father German and mother French, they had emigrated to California, but after leaving high school, he had always wanted to live in France, he had now been here 10 years and was considered a great waiter, attitude included.
After my couple of aperitifs I went next door to Le Procope, I got a table for one next to a couple who were very chatty, she was from the Czech Republic and he was from Norway, it seemed like a very strange arrangement, but who am I to judge, we got talking about travel and next thing you know she is inviting me to Czech Rep., I would have lot of fun!! I’m sure I would, if my bank balance was as high as she thought.
A few minutes later their seafood main course arrived and it was spectacular, a huge silver platter set on a stand above their plates, there were lobsters, crabs, shrimp, mussels, calamari, various filets, just a superb smorgasbord of seafood, it reminded me of a similar feast I had shared with my friend, Steve Whittle in Watson’s Bay, Australia.
My escargot followed by Brochette Boeuf looked rather miniscule compared to the feast on the next table. We said our goodbyes over café and I wandered off into the Parisian night. It was now close to 10pm and I had to be up by 6am so I walked up through The Latin Quarter towards the river and found a fantastic open air party happening on the Mitterand footbridge, young people had spread blankets out all over the bridge and were having picnics, there were musicians playing and it was a very joyous situation, I was so envious that I had to leave.
I caught the metro back to Pigalle and had a final nightcap at my new corner local.
Au Revoir Paris, I shall return.
