Paris 2007

Paris photos, last two days 2007

Our last two days- in Paris

OK, it's been a really long time since our trip. My notes are sparse so I am trying to piece it all together.

It was pretty uneventful taking the TGV back up to Paris from Montpellier. On time, speedy and we had reservations at the same hotel in Paris.

Once we checked in to the hotel, it was off to see and experience more of Paris that we hadn't seen before. Well, maybe that's a little white lie. DH had actually acquiesed to my desire to SHOP in Paris this time. On our last trip, I had hoped to do a little shopping on our last day. Alas, we weren't thinking, and all the shops were closed when we arrived (tip for newbie travellers who like to shop- don't plan to shop on a Sunday in Europe) and hit me with a reality stick- last year we were even in Paris during the bi-annual soldes (sales). Lack of government sales and shitty dollar to the euro exchange rate be damned, I was still going shopping.

Even though I have an extreme aversion to large department stores, we ended up at Les Galleries Lafayette (Macy's in NYC gives me hives). I've never done research on shopping or anything else for that matter regarding Paris (except for hotels and restos) before our trips, so I had no idea where to begin looking for interesting boutiques/shops. And, dear reader, my husband has an extreme aversion to shopping. So a one stop smorgasbord was deemed to be the best solution.

Now, when in France- I pretty much want to buy everything. OK, my consumptionist side is revealing itself. But hey, I only get to visit here once a year...and there's a bit of the safari mentality cursing through my veins. No I don't have a budget to buy everything, or even several things. But this girl is a girl and she likes to be a girl. And the French like to make a girl feel like a girl.

My husband lasted about 15 minutes in the store (a record for him) before he announced that he was going to visit the Paris Opera while I shopped. He had worked there years ago, while on tour in Europe. While it was tempting to join him...I decided it would be better to remain at Les Galleries- ogling one pretty frock and the next and the next and the next. I eventually found a sundress that satiated my ooh-la-la french envy, plunked down the CC and did the virtual ostrich head in the sand thing regarding the actual price in dollars vs euros.

On to the next item on my agenda. It was time to head to La Duree for macarons. If you've been oh so patiently following this blog from the beginning, you will remember I was on a bit of a macaron treasure hunt- courtesy of moi and my friend Cynthia's sometime obsession with them. DH kindly escorted me to the La Duree on the Champs d'Elysee. Once I entered the golden gates, he noticed the glazed look in my eye and promptly said, "Take your time, I'll be waiting for you across the street in the pub.". Ooh! The choices, beckoning and calling my name. All those pretty little pastries, so lovingly coaxed into being, dressed in their finest to beguile a sucker like me.

There were too many choices in front of me. If I were lucky enough to live in Paris, I would probably have insisted on returning at least once a week, to sample the divine pastries available for the choosing. But, the macaron mission kept me on task. I selected a dozen minis to take back to NYC for Cynthia (and moi) to taste test. Chocolate, Violet, Lemon, Strawberry, Mocha, Pistachio,...ooh lah lah. For myself, I selected two full sized macarons, to be consumed in France. I chose a chocolate and a pistachio. After choosing my treasures, I patiently waited in line, while the shopgirls prettily boxed them, I paid my tab and then joined my husband across the street.

Too shy to break into them right in the store, this was the moment I had been waiting for- were they worth it? Well, honies, let's just say that the first bite was all of heaven and the best part of hell combined. If my husband had asked me to choose between him and the macaraons at that point, it would have been a hard decision. Yes Virginia, La Duree macarons are worth every cent you spend and each inch you travel to taste them.

Having fed the girl kitty, it was my turn to be the big man. DH suggested we go to La Defense and see the Eiffel tower from a new view. A quick hop and stop on the Metro and we were there. Neither of us was awed by La Defense. We were both amused/intrigued by the gypsies trolling for scams. The view of the Eiffel tower was lovely. And then we were done. I'm sure we're missing some huge significance here, but these were our impressions.

It was getting to be that time of day, so dinner options were discussed. I was all in favor of a nice dinner at a local bistro of cafe, but my husband was heavily leaning towards a picnic. Since the saintly spousal points were leaning towards my husband, we both agreed to assemble a picnic.

We amassed at bevy of food from the tiny grocer around the corner from the hotel Studia. And of course, I needed a little more sustenance (some calamare some gigantes), so supplemented from a Greek vendor in the neighborhood. Grabbed a bottle of wine and headed down to the Seine, right in the shadows of Notre Dame.

I've wanted to picnic on the Seine since I lived in Europe over ten years ago. Never got around to it, tonight was the night.

We spread out the blanket, laid out our meal and uncorked the wine. There were several other couples partaking in the same lovely experience. As the tourist boats sped by, it was fun to be toasted by the people on the boats and even more fun to pretend that we were 'real Parisiennes', raising our glasses and wishing a bon soir in return. But eventually, the way we started our trip, was the way our trip would draw to and end. Ah yes, as Fanny Brice sang in Funny Girl, it started to "Rain on our Parade". We huddled underneath the bridge with about a six other couples, as the rain came down and we waited to make our hasty retreat back to Hotel Studia.

One more day, and then we would have to leave our dear France.

Photos- Montpellier 2007

Montpellier photos

Adios Spain, we're heading back to France

Hopefully the trip part of this blog will be finished before the next trip.....

We left Spain, bidding adios to our hosts Martha and Katie and headed back up to France. Since we would be taking the TGV back to Paris from the south, we had decided to spend the night in Montpellier. A second option would have been driving back to Avignon and heading north, but we wanted to see a city we hadn't visited before. So Montpellier it was.

Katie and Martha had warned us that driving in and out of Montpellier was a nightmare. Of course we heeded their advice, but we had no idea what we were in for. DH was prepared with all the necessary maps, carefully organized into the official "TRIP FOLDER", including detailed printouts from mappy.com. But as the old saying goes...the one about best laid plans of mice and men....

We spent over an hour and a half trying to navigate the streets of Montpellier, desperate to arrive at our hotel, maybe even get to sleep in the room we had already paid for and drop off the car before our train was to leave the next morning. I can't count the number of times we ran into dead ends, streets on the map disappeared from the reality of our fruitless navigation or one way streets forced us into a drive of slow and painful water-drip torture death where we would end up at our starting point over and over again.

Somehow, we managed to finally arrive at our hotel, the Hotel du Parc. The hotel was very pretty and our room was spacious and charming. After hauling our suitcases to our room, DH took off to return the rental car. Thankfully, the concierge gave him concise driving directions to the train station and advised him on which tram would bring him back to the hotel.

Travel busy-business over and done, it was time to explore Montpellier.

We left the hotel and began our explorations at the Place du Comedie. By now, it was 2pm on a Sunday afternoon, so even if we had wanted to go gangbusters, it just wasn't going to happen. We wandered through the pretty Jardin des Plantes. There was an odd art installation which we didn't find visually appealing. But once we realized that it was in honor of a wine rebellion that we had read about in Narbonne, we were amused and a wee proud of ourselves for being able to know about a little obscure (to us) piece of the history and culture of southern France.

It was a wandering kind of day. I think we pretty much covered most of central Montpellier. We took time to visit the Antigone district, which reminded us both of Battery Park City in NYC. Seen it, done it, next. Exploring historic Montpellier was enjoyable. Most shops and sites were closed, but the architecture, the pretty white buildings and white-washed cobblestone streets were pleasant. We seemed to keep meandering back to the same little square, where we took a time out at a cafe to soak it all in (and rest our weary legs...). Regathering our momentum over wine and little snacks, the atmosphere was nice and relaxed. Most of the patrons seemed to know each other and the waitstaff. Nearby, some preteen boys attempted to practice a bit of soccer greatness.

Next, we promenaded our way over to the Promenade du Peyroux. From a distance, it looked quite eloquent. Up close and personal, this seemed to be the rastafarian and bohemiam-stoner-student-trustafarian hang out section of Montpellier. Nothing wrong with that...I can appreciate an alternative view of life. It's just that there was so much trash and so many broken bottles strewn about. It seemed a shame in light of the beautiful monument and how beautiful park could be if it were kept cleaner. Peace out dude, but put your trash where it belongs.

We did alot more wandering, and eventually came to the dinner hour. We chose to eat at Bistrot Gourmand, which had the most interesting menu in our budget for the evening. I had some kind of salad with duck breast and DH also had a salad, based around goat cheese. Our meal was quite lovely and and we got to sit outside in a quite square under pretty lights.

Our vacation was drawing to an end. Each time we know we are about to leave southern France, we get a little sad. There's just something so magical about this region. Neither of us wanted to leave.

After dinner, we headed back to Hotel du Parc, and shared one last bottle of wine in the courtyard (hell, we had to, we couldn't take all of our travelling cave back to the US.) before falling into bed.

Spain part 2- photos

Cadaques and Girona

Destination- Cadaques

We decided to spend our day in the small fishing village of Cadaques.

It was an easy 45 minute drive from Jafre, pretty much a straight shot through wheat fields and small, dusty villages. Shortly before the outskirts of Roses, we encountered a hellacious traffic snarl, due to road construction, which slowed everything to an obstinate snail's pace.

The slow down occurred at the least appealing part of the drive, in the midst of strip malls and mucho ugly commercial development. There was one humorous moment, though... as traffic lurched along and we passed one of those kiddie play parks that probably would involve putt-putt golf if it were in the US of A. It was populated with a multitude of giant clown heads, and I had a sudden epiphany as to why so many people develop an ungodly fear of clowns in their childhood(let alone adulthood). Despite the dark and unintended humor of the clown heads, our patience was wearing thin, when we finally came to the end of the construction zone, traffic cleared up, and we were rewarded with scenic vistas as the road wove it's way up and through the coastal mountains and on towards Cadaques.

Since we had just passed Roses, I couldn't resist the opportunity to bust my DH's chops and try to convince him that we had dinner reservations that night at Ferran Adria's restaurant, Il Bulli which is located in Roses. He was blissfully ignorant of Il Bulli's significance in the cult world of gourmets and foodies. I explained to him that Adria was the chef who first championed 'molecular gastronomy', reducing food down to foams and unlikely concoctions... that it takes six months to get reservations if you are lucky...Moi, I've yet to taste Senor Adria's cuisine, or experience a meal from any chef who follows in his footsteps, so I have no relevant culinary opinions. For die hard foodies, it's supposedly the experience of a lifetime. When I revealed how much a dinner at Il Bulli would cost us (about 200EU/pp...over 300USD/pp with the current horrid exchange rate), I had a good laugh as DH screamed and protested that I was an evil liar. I took great delight in admitting that yes, I was truly an evil liar.

We passed through the mountains and began the winding descent down the one road that takes you to Cadaques. The road travels through the Parc National de Cap de Creus. The terrain is beautiful and rugged. It is covered with deep pine green brush, olive trees, ochre-colored sandy rock. And today, it was gorgeously framed today by a bright blue sky that enhanced the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean.

Cadaques was even prettier than we expected. The bright white buildings were like freshly washed linen set out to dry on a warm summer day. There was a small artisan's market set up. It was delightful to see a market devoted entirely to local culture, in contrast to the usual weekly markets we love to visit. A smith forged iron tools. Several women sat around a table, tatting beautiful lace by hand. A group of musicians played music and there were of course, many stalls devoted to food that looked simply scrumptious. My biggest regret of the day (aside from not getting a photograph of the evil giant clown heads), was that I didn't by a Caganer from the vendor who was selling them.

Caganers are figurines of 'people' taking a crap. Yes, pooing. They are placed the in a discreet corner of nativity scenes at Christmas and are (according to my guidebook) a "very sacred tradition for the Catalans" and "pure fun". I had my choice of crapping angels, firemen, policemen, nuns, etc. But I hemmed and hawed, thinking it would be easy to find a little crapper in another town. I was wrong. Oh well, our Christmas will be shit free for yet another year.

After browsing the market, we settled down on the beach for yet another rather blissfully uneventful day of swimming, reading and sunning.

Nearby Cadaques in Portlligat, is the house that Dali lived and worked in from 1930 to 1982. Reservations are needed if you are planning to visit. We opted not to visit this time...but have heard it's a fascinating experience. Also nearby is Pubol Castle, the castle Dali bought for his girlfriend Gala. Since our afternoon was dedicated to pure decadent nothingness, we decided to save Pubol Castle for another visit too.

As we were leaving town, DH spotted a store with wine casks in the window. Like a big game hunter, looking for the next exotic kill, he begged to go in. They had casks of sangria, and he snared his next trophy...his nalgene bottle filled with sangria.

We drove back to Las Nenas, freshened up and then set out to Girona for the evening.

Girona has a lot of history and and a wonderful energy. In hindsight, I wish we would have had more time to experience it all. We arrived at about 6pm, and spent the the first hour exploring and walking around. From our short visit, I got very positive impressions.

We wandered through the old Jewish ghetto. I was floored by how narrow the streets were. I found it ironic, that a ghetto cleared out by a catholic regime, is now a chic and desirable place to live. We wound our way through the old passageways, and eventually 'stumbled' upon the majestic cathedral of Girona.

When I say, 'stumbled', I'm actually being quite literal. In the square below the cathedral, I was trying to maneuver myself to get the best possible photographic angle. I was more focused on getting the shot than paying attention to my surroundings, and up ended myself over one of the cement pylons which protect the buildings from any vehicular traffic. It was downright embarrassing (and literally made me nauseous from impact), and knocked the wind out of me.

When my coordination and alertness gets that bad, I know it's time to sit down and have meal. So we immediately set out to find a place for dinner. I was in Spain, so I was determined to have some authentic tapas.

After a little meandering, we found a tapas bar/restaurant that looked cozy and inviting. We both ordered a glass of wine and then filled a plate with tapas from their selection- potatoes bravas, lots of anchovy pintxos for me, bread topped with tuna, serrano ham. I had fun sampling all the little dishes, but DH wanted more of a meal.

The waiter showed us to table in the quiet and secluded alleyway behind the restaurant. We enjoyed a wonderful meal. I had a grilled shrimp and avocado drizzled with a reduction of balsamic vinegar and my husband a goat cheese salad. We ordered a Catalan rose that went perfectly with the meal. Simple dishes, well presented and tastier than I would have expected.

After dinner, we enjoyed a stroll down Las Ramblas and along the canals to see the famous colored houses before heading back to Las Nenas. Back 'home', we ended our evening in the garden again, gazing up at the stars and enjoying a nightcap of the sangria as we nibbled at the leftover dessert from the previous evening. A sweet ending to another sweet and lovely day.

Spain- part 1

Spain - part one