Parisians may live in small apartments and houses, but there are some pretty grand places to hang out. And if you were royalty or an aristocrat back in the day you were livin’ large. As the visit with Denise and Sarah continued we got to experience some of the decadence that has marked the landscape here for decades. We got so see what some of the “haves” had. (Today the “have-nots” and “have-sort-ofs” can enjoy them too… for the small price of a ticket!)

PLAY - Here in Paris they are very commited to the idea that even commoners can enjoy the opera and ballet. The 3 of us had a fabulous night at the ballet, where we got to enjoy box seats in the beautiful Opera Garnier. (Birthplace of the Phantom.) What a grand venue! We felt like 3 princesses as we got a little bit dressed up,  jumped into our pumpkin coach ( a cab) and ascended the steps of the place. At intermission we toasted with champagne and posed for beaucoup des photos with one another.

Photo Opp on the Grand Staircase

Of course events leading up to this evening were not without a little bit of comedy. When I went to buy the tickets the guy’s english wasn’t so great. (And we know the quality of my francais.) He told me the night we wanted was “very special.” He said it was opening night and that there was something special where we would get to meet the dancers. I envisioned a cocktail party or something with people dressed to the teeth. I also began to panic about what to wear, and emailed my guests, telling them to bring something a little dressier. Well, “meeting the dancers” means applauding for 30 minutes while dancer after dancer from the age of about 3 to 33 walks on to the stage and takes a bow. And let me tell you, the stage at Opera Garnier is IMMENSE! It must be half a mile deep. And it was filled with dancers. Very cool! But not a cocktail party. And, we looked pretty spiffy, but needn’t have stressed. People showed up in all sorts of get-ups. Ah well! I need to learn the language!

The ballet, Joyaux was lovely. It is George Balanchine’s tryptyque representing the 3 “grand schools” of dance through the energy of  precious gems. Emerald (french style) Ruby (american style) and Sapphire (russian style.) How perfect for 3 girls looking at livin’ large! Here’s a little bit of video I snuck in before the performance and during the final bows, of which there were MANY. Shhh! No cameras allowed. Enjoy a sneek peek at the inside of the opera, our box, the ceiling with painting by Chagall, the orchestra and our lovely dancers in their diamond duds. (Designed by Christian Lecroix.)

Speaking of the princess life, we also got out to see the Chateau at Versailles. If course, I’ve heard about it for years and it certainly lived up to its reputation. A tour of the inside included the famous Hall of Mirrors and Marie Antoinette’s notorious sleeping quarters which were redecorated with a fresh palette and design for the change of each season.

Her Majesty's Bedroom

The insides can only be matched by the gardens, which stretch on for acres and acres and include an additional chateau and a “peasant hamlet” built in 3/4 scale (which gives it a Disney-esque quality) where her majesty, the last queen of France, enjoyed wearing simple frocks and made believe she was a peasant.(Accompanied by her court and servants, of course.)

I must add that upon seeing all of this I became more fascinated with what was going on during the times of Louis’ XIV, XV and XVI, and so I read a great book about Ms. Antoinette which offered a fresh history lesson about this time in history. Talk about someone who liked to eat, play and shop. This woman took the cake! (And, by the way, according to this book she doesn’t seem to have  uttered the famous quote about peasants and cake… that was propaganda.)

Yes, she was by birthright entitled to way more than any human needs. Her marriage at 14 to ”le dauphin” (future king Louis XVI) and rapid rise to fame supported by an adoring public was a bit like what happens to some of our modern-day child stars. Picture an 18th century version of a cross between Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. The public built her up and then tore her down. And in the end they could not have humiliated her any more. Luckily there are limits to how we torture our modern-day celebrities. I don’t think we can cut off their heads.

In truth she was not a monster or a  martyr. She was simply a product of her family, status and times and ill-equipped for the role that was thrust upon her. She (and the king) were really just in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong advisors and an outdated rulebook. If they had had access to the internet… say Google and Twitter, they might have figured out that the public was not pickin’ up what she and big Louis were puttin’ down. They could have made some more informed choices. But that was then and this is now. Long live the queen! Thank you, string of Louis’, for leaving such an amazing physical representation of  what happens when a few people have too much and most people have too little.

A quick stroll in the garden, anyone?

Here is a little video of some of the highlights inside and outside the chateau. You’ll likely hear some interesting facts read by Denise  from her Rick Steve’s travel guide, along with various other comments made by the 3 of us, including my favorite - Sarah: “Louis the XIV, you’re weird!” 

EAT - While we played like princesses, most of our meals were more rustic fare.  But we did  have a couple of excellent dinners and made some culinary discoveries in the grocery store, too.  At one restaurant,  Cremerie-Restaurant Polidor near the Jardin du Luxemborg, I ordered and ate something that I could not identify. Good for me! Perhaps they were pig’s knuckles. Who knows. But they were tasty! This place is famous for its ice cream and tarts too. We enjoyed a great dinner there with a friend of Denise and Sarah’s from their home town in Michigan. Evan, thanks for joining us and helping us find the place!

Tired one night from wandering around, we found ourselves on the edge of the Latin Quarter and Isle de la Cite. A place caught our eyes, and we decided it was time to eat. It was called “Le Petit Pont.” (This one was not in Rick Steve’s book or my Frommer’s guide.) It had a great view of Notre Dame and appeared very lively. It wasn’t long before we realized that this place was loaded with tourists (a given, thanks to the location) and these tourists were ready to PAR-TAY! Giant, special drinks were being delivered to tables around us. Each one seemed to be bigger than the last, and  they were garnished with burning sparklers. Loud applause accompanied each delivery. Hmmmm. We decided to have one of our own. One… for the 3 of us. Suddenly upon our table was a giant glass full of alcohol, fruit juice and fruit chunks. Then, a champagne glass was plunged into the center and filled to overflowing with champagne. The sparkler was lit, and so were we. (Just kidding. It was not as strong as you might think.)

Waiter delivering Sparkler Drinks

At the next table a group of Norwegian carpenters were whooping it up. (At least, that’s who they said they were.) Their waiter kept arriving with larger and larger beers, to the point that they seemed to have a punchbowl full of beer on the table. At that point a couple of them got friendly and came over to strike up some conversation. Not a Jacques in the bunch, but there were a couple of Thors and Tronds. Fortunately for Sarah- who was the main attraction – they were not as aggressive as parisian Jacques’, and we were able to leave without being followed or offered an “afternoon of pleasure.”

In the grocery store one day we were looking for some chips. Well, they have them and they have Lay’s brand. Funny, though, the flavors are a bit different. You’ve got your “Rotisserie Chicken with Thyme” flavor, “Smoked Ham” and “Moutarde et Pickles” (yes, mustard and pickles.) Whaaaa? I don’t mind, say, barbeque flavor but do you really want to pretend that your potato chip is meat, poutry or a pickle? Ewwww! I must admit that in spite of the gross-out factor we tried to chicken ones… who wouldn’t, really?

SHOP- Lots of shopping happened while the girls were here. Most of it was wedged in between sight-seeing, and most of it was in the teen/junior type stores. There was Forum des Halles (huge underground mall I mentioned in an earlier post) and most every store with trendy and affordable stuff.

How cute is this pic of Sarah?

I was pleased that Sarah and Denise both shared my appreciation of the Promod store. They’ve got stuff suitable for a couple of generations in there, and it is always cute. No, it probably won’t last through more than 10 washings, whatever you get there, but it will be stylish and unique. People will say “Where did you get that?” you say, “Paris.”

Sarah in her "Parisian Girl"coat

Word from the W.C. – Now, if you plan to have dinner some day at Cremerie Restaurant Polidor (mentioned above) you may want to plan ahead for this little fact: This place, along with some very charming history involving famous patrons, still sports a stand-up toilet. There are a few of these around Paris. We were not prepared, however, and these lovely facilities don’t come with instructions. (You know, hold on here, aim here, how to flush, etc.) For guys, no probs! For girls… well you just have to have a sense of adventure and trust that everything will come out alright. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist!) For you die-hard W.C. fans I’m sorry to report that I didn’t take a picture.

Because I’m catching up, I’m probably leaving out a ton of what I could have included in even more posts about that last part of October. My fear, though, is that I’ll never catch up if I do. I’ll end this post with a short video of the special 120th anniversary light show on le Tour Eiffel. It is very cool, and happens every night through December, on the hour, until 11 or so. If you are in Paris, be sure to see it! After this video, don’t miss the musical selections for this post.

For your listening pleasure, I have two musical selections representing these particular events. The first, a really great rendition of Gabriel Faure’s Pavane (music from the Emeraudes portion of the Ballet.) This performance has a different twist featuring a modern arrangement Ian Anderson (of Jethro Tull) on flute. You may recognize the tune.

Second, a tune we could not get out of our heads while strolling through the Chateau. Louie Louie by Richard Berry (performed here by the Kingsmen, with lyrics.)  Don’t ask me how this one came up. Who knows? But then, it is the ultimate party song and Versailles was the ultimate party destination in its time.

My post about Halloween, is coming up in a couple of days… I hope. I’ve been so busy with my french classthe past 5 weeks that this poor little blog was neglected. But french class is now over and while I’m not much better at the language my mornings are free for easier things, like this.

See you soon!

Happy Birthday to Moi!

 

Where do I begin, to tell the story of how great a birthday can be? (Yes, to the theme of  Love Story.) October 18th was my birthday. It wasn’t a significantly-numbered birthday. (That was last year.) It was just one of those quiet ones that gently remind you that life is moving forward and you had better keep having amazing experiences because it won’t last forever. So, I had some amazing experiences… for more than a week!

Anyway, let me start with pre-birthday festivities. On the Thursday prior, once I was fully rested from my trip to Heidelberg, hope arrived. Hope Langner that is, a business colleague and friend from the US who was in town to teach a workshop. We had a grand day exploring Paris. We walked all over the place, visited the Musee d’Orsay, talked, window-shopped and had two delicious meals, including a stew with chicken and prunes. Help me Hope… what was that called? (I also wish I could remember the names of our restaurants, but I forgot to take pictures or notes that day and this is what happens.) So no pics of  Hope, and very little scoop. We had a great time, though.

One thing that was really fun for us was re-discovering an old favorite book in the musee bookshop. Girls, remember Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans? The story about the little girl in the convent school in Paris? There it was. It was in french, but the pictures were the same. For years, because of the Madeline books,  I thought Paris and all the little girls and nuns here were all scribbly looking. What fun to remember!

Hope very sweetly sent me a gift afterward, by post. Due to my lack of language skills, I’m still trying to track it down 3 weeks later. There is a message on my voicemail. If only I could understand it! How about a notice in my mailbox? Is that too much to ask? Nope! Got to make it challenging. I do vow to get my hands on that package before I leave in December. I hope it wasn’t cheese or something else perishable.

Anyway, 2 days later who should arrive but two beloved family members: my niece, Sarah, and sister-in-law Denise. They were here for 8 days of Eat,Play,Shopping and we did plenty of all 3! I’ll be covering their visit here, sometimes out of order, in 2 or 3 posts.

EAT -  At my request, we went to Laduree again on my b-day for some more special tea and pastries. The girls were still a bit jet-lagged, having arrived only the day before, so we got up nice and late and wandered into Laduree at about 2:30. I thought my violet cream puff thingie from a few weeks before was about as wild as I could get, but this time I ordered a rasberry something-or-other with rose cream, rose something else and rose petals on it. Of course,  I had to get the rose tea with that. I think the next year of my life can’t help but be rosy! Sarah had a delicious eclair and Denise a rasberry tarte. We heard a few tsk-tsks from the neighboring table as we took some pics. And they weren’t even french! Sit on it dude, it’s my birthday!

My Rose Delight!

SHOP – Alas, many shops are closed on Sunday here. For a girl who loves to shop, (well 2 who love to shop and one who is not quite as interested) it proved a little bit hit and miss. We did get to cruise through the store that my shopping book says is #1 in Paris for teens – Etam. Sarah had a grand time there. It was really tough to choose, but she managed to select a favorite from among about 12 fabulous purses. It’s tough with so many options. I totally get it. (She’s definitley got the shoe and handbag  jones, and I suspect it is genetic.)  

Between shopping moments, Sarah posing next to interesting scultpture in Tuileries Garden.

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Mostly that day we gawked, window-shopped and took pictures. At the end of the day we found ourselves wandering  through part of the latin quarter where sleazy hawkers try to draw tourists into their restaurants. What a trip! We wanted to eat a quick dinner, but really didn’t want to lured in like it was a carnival game or to see the bearded lady! We finally found a nice little crepe place where we could invite ourselves in and have a quick and cheesy bite. We needed fortication because we were headed to the second and BEST big birthday treat: Our Night Bike Tour of the city with Fat Tire Bike Tours! http://fattirebiketours.com/paris

PLAY - What a fabulous idea! California beach cruisers, english-speaking guides and night time in Paris. Fat Tire Bikes is an american company doing the bike tour thing in several major european cities. I highly recommend trying it next time you’re in Paris, Barcelona, Berlin or London. This thing rocked! We met at the Eiffel Tower (Sarah and Denise got their first look at that.) Then we headed to their offices where we geared up with highly flattering neon yellow vests and water. No helmets. (Dorothy, we’re not in America anymore!)  After a brief orientation about how to stay safe, (pedal fast when a light is changing, and don’t let any cars cut in between us,) we headed off into the dark night.

Posing with ice cream from Berthillon and our guide.

We rode along Blvd. St. Germain and through the latin quarter (where the sleazy guys were still hawking in front of restaurants.) and to the front of Notre Dame. Our guide,  Andrew, had an irreverent sense of humor and shared some interesting stories with us about the statues. Referring to Jesus as “the big J.C.” he explained how the church used paintings and sculptures as P.R. for recriuiting the common folk, who could not read. It was interesting to look at the front of the church and see the message that I would be locked in chains, in hell with the other sinners, if I did not come along on in!

Around the back of the cathedral, by the flying buttresses, we crossed a bridge to Ile St. Louis and had the most delicious ice cream ever at Berthillon. I’d been trying to get to this ice cream since I got here! Of course it should be on my birthday. My flavor – caramel with salted butter. Yes! It was amazing. More, please! ( Even at 4 euros a scoop.) Fortified with our treat, we pedaled on to the Louvre. But not before crossing the pedestrian bridge, Pont des Arts, made recently famous on Sex in the City. (Mr. Big finds Carrie in Paris here.) It is a bridge where people come when they get engaged, and fasten a lock to the bridge to commemorate the event. Our guide, Andrew, told us with great glee that he had found one combination lock there. (Escape plan for some commitment-phobes?) I suspect that one was his.

One of true love's locks.

Once we crossed we could enter the courtyard in the Louvre, where we got to pedal all around. It was absolutely magical in there! It was all lit up, with a lone clarinet player making his music, taking advantage of the amazing acoustics and enchanting us all with his meloncholy sound. We pedaled around in quiet reverence (yes, even me)  for a few minutes.

Then it was off along the Seine for a few minutes and on to one of the Bateaux-Mouche. (These are the boats you see cruising up and down the river.) Our guide had promised us a toast, with wine, and he was not kidding. There was enough red wine loaded on his bike to innebriate an entire village. So we took it on the boat and proceeded to drink a good deal of it. The boat cruised the whole length of Paris, and we heard interesting bits of information about all of the bridges and sights. Of course, the Eiffel Tower did a light show for us (an hourly event) and we pretended it was especially for my birthday. (Incidentally, I was one of 3 birthday girls on this tour. Go Libras!)

Once off the boat well fortified with wine, the riding seemed to get easier (imagine that!) and I found I wasn’t so tense in traffic. Andrew led the way, an unfinished bottle of vin rouge dangling from one hand. (Remember, not in America anymore.) We made our way back to Fat Tire HQ to say goodbye to our adventure. Here’s a short video of some of the sights.

What an amazing night! Thank you Denise and Sarah for making my birthday so special. I felt like a queen. And speaking of queens, stay tuned for part two of this report where the “royal we” entertain ourselves in style…

Theme song for this post? Well, I’ve got to get this one in at some point during Sarah and Denise’s visit, so why not now? This one is a favorite of Sarah’s and mine. A little shopping song…Hit’Em Up Style by Blu Cantrell. (OOPS!)

See you soon!

Sprudel Water

Sprudel. That’s my new favorite German word. (It means “soda” or “bubbly” and it is the word you see on the water bottle of the fizzy water.) In France, when you order bottled water, they was ask if you want gas or no gas. I would prefer to be asked if I want “sprudel” wouldn’t you? It is just so much more lively! Sprudel can also be used to describe a bubbly personality. I just like saying it.

In fact, some of the most fun I had when I visited Heidelberg, Germany a couple of weeks ago was playing with the German language. My paternal grandmother, though Hungarian, used to speak lots of German. (For example, when cursing.)  She was full of “sprudel” herself. So I guess every german word I hear makes me think of her. And that makes me laugh. Hearing german also conjures up old characters like Seargant Schultz and Colonel Klink from Hogan’s Heros, along with other bad charicatures of germans. But I loved that show…

Pic of Heidelberg that I didn't take myself

My trip to Heidelberg was quick, and I didn’t get to see much of the place, except at night. Picture a fairytale town, on a river, with a castle on the hill - and history dating back to about 700 AD. It was untouched by bombing in WWII.  I found it captivating as I strolled though the Old Town area and glanced up at the old castle, all a-light at night.

Castle at Night

Heidelberg is full of interesting history. The jawbone of the 1 million-year-old “Heidelberg Man” was discovered there. (Oldest human remains ever found in Europe.) U.S General George Patton died there. The castle remains date as far back as the 1300′s when Prince Elector Ruprecht III began building it. (I couldn’t resist sharing that fact, because of my fondness for Steve Martin’s character “Ruprecht” in the film Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. If you saw it, you know what I’m talking about. Please note that these Ruprechts have nothing to do with one another, except in my mind. ) Thank you Wikipedia for all of these brillant facts about Heidelberg that I didn’t have time to learn while I was there.

If course, the people I met in the course I led that weekend were full of charm and sprudel too. We had a wonderful time together. I’ve noticed that each course I teach over here involves a warm-up period where the class has to get past my “american-ness” and the “american-ness” of the course design. But once we get past that – and we always do – we are reminded that people really are the same underneath their culteral wrappings. The same was true here. (I should mention that I’ve been told more than once now that Europeans think that holding 2  thumbs up with a big grin as a way to signal your approval is just a little bit over the top. So don’t do this particular gesture in Europe and you’ll be fine.) 

I was very grateful to be leading once again with my lovely colleague Tina  – a German native. She made up for my american-ness. She also told me what Sprudel means!

I won’t be making a SHOP report in this post. Tina and I did sneak in a little shopping on friday night during our walk through the Old Town. They had some great shops. I just didn’t take good notes or pics. I will say that you can find some excellent stuff to buy in Heidelberg, though. Just in case you are wondering.

EAT and PLAY are combined here, as most of the play-exclusive of the class- was part of the eating.

I was delighted with my choice of dinner on the first night. I decided to try a local specialty – Heidelberger Bierhuhn. That means chicken braised in dark beer. It was tasty! Kind of like bar-be-que, only not as sweet. I chose this from a menu at a traditional german restaurant. Another item on the menu was Rumpsteak Vom Grill. Without my glasses, I thought it said Rumpsteak Von Grill. (Vom means “of that” and Von means “of”, so it was very close.) Anyway, I thought, what a great name for a character! You know, like Baron Von Munchausen. Rumpsteak Von Grill, new short-order cook on South Park. Or maybe a rapper who’s “got much back” and some fancy dental work. I found this all quite amusing, as only an american with too much exposure to pop culture can.

I must say that the portions in Germany rival US sized portions. A hamburger I ordered in the hotel was bigger than a Whataburger. (Remember those?) And it came with about a pound of potato chips… barbeque flavor!

Germans know how to eat healthy, too. Tina pointed out this place as we were walking along. A store that only sells seafood. All kinds, all ways. We saw two of these places just in the Old Town. I’m told this is very big in Germany.

One of the best things about the hotel/conference center where we stayed was the food on the breaks. Germany really knows how to do cakes and pastries! At every break there was something delicious waiting for us, along with other unique things like real cherry or banana juice.  

My most satisfying food experience, however, was the answer to a question I’ve been carrying around for years. I got to try a “Berliner.” If you’ve been around a while you’ve probably heard about the famous line by President Kennedy in a speech he made while in West Berlin. He proudly stated “Ich bin ein Berliner” as a statement of his support for West Berlin. Now the legend goes that because of a grammatical error,  he had mistakenly proclaimed that he was either, A. a dinner roll or B. a jelly donut. I have heard it told both ways. And while it wasn’t really killing me all these years not knowing which thing a “berliner” really is, I was delighted to finally learn the truth. A berliner is a jelly donut. (And a tasty one, I might add.) Rasberry filling, light, delicious and pictured here.

I know, this post had few pictures and no video. I got lazy! But don’t worry. Shortly after I returned home I had some very special visitors and lots of new Paris adventures. Coming soon… my birthday in Paris, a trip to the Ballet, and other exciting happenings, complete with lots of pics and video. 

I don’t have a theme song for my trip to Heidelberg. In it’s place I’ll offer this: As I’m in my apartment in Paris writing this, down the block some people are partying wildly. I can hear their music. Right now they are playing Patrick Hernandez’ Born to Be Alive. It is extra special because I can hear them all singing along with their french accents. It is a very sprudely moment. Imagine and Enjoy!

One Little Bit of a Park Bench

…Where the wave of heat can wreck your feet but you’ll still be having a good time. Baaar-celona every day is filled with something new. You can take a walk and shop or gawk and you’ll never tire of the view. It’s home of the proud Catalan, all the Gaudis and excellent ham. And when I say, YO quiero repite! OH! I’m really saying I’m coming back Barcelona,  on a much cooler day. B-a-R-C-e-l-O-N-A. BARCELONA. OLE! 

In case you were trying to read that and didn’t know what on earth it was, it is intended to be sung to the tune of Oklahoma! (Want to try again?)

I’ve come to believe that Barcelona is out to get me with her weather. The first time I went there it was freezing. I had all of the wrong clothes for that. This time it was sweltering. And you can guess what sort of clothes I had. Correct! The wrong ones. I’m wonderinng if she is trying to get me to come back again. Three, after all, is the charm, right? Here’s the scoop, from even before it got really, really hot.A few hours after my friend Debra flew back to San Fran, I was on a plane to the wonderful city of Barcelona to lead another workshop. This time I was to lead it with my friend Dori from Israel. Dori and I know each other from a leadership program we both attended in 2003. This was an exciting moment, to be leading a workshop with Dori. Our leaderhship group was known to be a little bit rebellious. (Dori had nothing to do with that, but yours truly did.) I’m surprised anyone would trust a duo spawned from such a group to be responsible for an entire workshop. The good news is that we had a great time and so did our students. Some troublemakers can do a good job. (Dori, I’m talking about me, not you.)

Me and Dori Celebrating a Job Well Done.. in the heat!

Our group of students, assistants and interpretor were lovely, lively and full of human magic. Exactly the sort of collection of people you would find in one of the world’s most intriguing places.

Our hotel and workshop venue was right on the beach, near the Port Olimpic. This is a more modern part of the city, and I have not spent much time there. It was beautiful at night, walking along the beach in perfect weather… at least at first.

EAT - Though we were working during the day, the evenings were free for excellent dinners al fresco (mostly seafood) at “the docks” nearby or in the city with other people we know there.  There were a number of varieties of fish I have never heard of. Everything I tried was good. Here is a picture of Dori’s sea bass one night. And they say american portions are out of control! He had an extra plate just to hold some of it.

Super-size me, por favor!

Spain has really tasty olives and I love how these restaurants brought us plates full of them as we waited for our food. They also have excellent wines. In fact, Spain is the only country where we are served wine with lunch while leading workshops. Right on! Of course, I mostly abstained, being the reformed trouble-maker and all.

And of course you can’t go to Spain and not have some tapas. The first night in I met Dori near Passeig de Gracia and we had some excellent asian-fusion tapas, of all things. Barcelona is a bit like San Francisco in that you can find very imaginative restaurant concepts and dishes there.

I didn’t do a good job of writing down restaurant names, but here is one where we had an excellent meal. Tonorio, also on Passeig de Gracia. We dined there with a couple of business friends who live there – Eric and Clarke. Thanks, Clarke for making reservations at this excellent place. After we were done, I watched with a little envy as Clarke hopped on a cute little red bike to ride home. (See more about the red bikes in PLAY.)

PLAY - I don’t think you can talk about Barcelona without thinking about play. From the surreal architecture to the beachy atmosphere and the love of anything creative this town is “play city.” It’s funny. In Paris they have these public bikes you can pick up and drop off in various places. They are a nice silver gray color with very elegant design lines. In Barcelona they have the same thing, only their bikes are bright red, white and black. One tire is small, there is a light on the back and a bell that goes ding. Grown up bike – Paris. Kid’s bike – Barcelona. The bikes say it all. If you watch the videos in this post, you’ll see red bikes whizzing by in two of them.

While we had lots of play in our workshop, as usual, there was play going on all around us. At the same time we were in the hotel on Saturday and Sunday teaching people how to listen to one another and ask powerful questions, there were literally millons of people converging on the beach outside for some big Red Bull Air Race.

Just the thought of a pilot drinking Red Bull makes me nervous. And to think they were buzzing our hotel and doing loopty-loops directly over us is not too comforting. They do know how to build well insulated hotels there, though. We barely heard a peep from this giant event. We did get to see replays of it on a jumbo screen as we walked along the beach Sunday night. I was glad I didn’t know what they were doing while it was happening.

And speaking of well insulated, let me just say that our hotel was great at holding sound out and trapping air IN. On Sunday, when the temperatures soared, the air conditioning broke. Our participants began to slowly melt. We started to feel like we were suffocating. The meeting room then developed an ever so slight whiff of eau d’ locker room. Our interpretor, bless her heart, was working the hardest of anyone and I thought she might pass out from the heat. We kept dragging the participants to whatever cooler spot or meeting room we could find so we could keep going. Then we’d heat that room up, suck out all the oxygen and move to another. Bless their hearts, our Spanish friends were great sports.

I stayed on Monday just to re-visit some of my favorite spots. I was very excited to return to Parc Guell, one of Gaudi’s creations. When I was there two years ago I was so cold I couldn’t enjoy it.  I said to myself, “Won’t it be great to lounge around in this glorious park and be warm?” Be careful what you wish for!

 I set out for the day in the only sleeveless top I brought, some jeans and, alas, my new brazilian plastic shoes. (The brand of this shoe is Melissa. Their tag line is. Melissa. Plastic Dreams. I had Melissa: Plastic Nightmare. )They were so comfortable in the hotel meeting room. Like little foot-hugging air matresses. Let me just say now that these shoes are not made for walkin’ in 90+ degrees. It didn’t take long for the blisters to start. In fact, by the time I got off the metro and made it to the base of the hill up to the Parc, I was wincing in pain.  It is a big hill. So big, they even have outdoor esclators outside to help you get up there. At the foot of the hill I saw a cute little shop with enticing flowered leather flip-flops in the window. Score! Not only would they be cool, but there was a pair that matched my outfit. I popped in, placed them on my feet, and walked out with my plastic paris/brazil dream shoes in a plastic bag. Up, up, up and into the park.

Cute? Si. But what did they do to my feet? Read on.

What a fantastic and whimsical place this is. All undulating shapes and structures and  mosaics that Gaudi is famous for. Gingerbready buildings and creativly shaped spaces are everywhere. And there was music everywhere. I heard everything from flamenco to Cold Play. Every corner I turned there was a musician, or someone selling interesting jewelry, or lovers stealing a kiss. Here is some video of the park. Like other things, it really can’t be captured, but maybe you can imagine it or pretend you are returning if you have been there. I suggest imagining it about 10 degrees cooler, though.

Alas, as I went to leave I realized my new flip-flops were not as foot friendly as I’d hoped. I now had blisters on the tops of my feet as well. I soldiered bravely on, though. I was determined to take a walk down La Rambla and also to do some shoe shopping. Yes, I love shoes everwhere, but Barcelona has some of the most imaginitive casual shoes I’ve seen anywhere. I was hoping to find something unique, comfortable and just a little wild by parisian standards.

By the time I got to the Placa Catalunya I was beside myself with discomfort. I was so mad at myself for those summer clothes and shoes hanging uselessly in my Paris apt. I sat down on a bench and had my first cry of the trip. It wasn’t long. Just a little whining laced with tears, which might have really been perspiration. Then I picked myself up and said to myself, “This is a beach town. It may be October, but there must be a pair of rubber flip flops within 500 yards of me.” Switching back to the plastic shoes, which were now the lesser of two evils, I limped into a cheapo shoe store. There they were. Rubber flip flops for 3 euros. Can I just say that I’ve never felt more indebted to a pair of flip-flops lke I was to those? Oh, what a difference comfortable feet make.

Now, if you have never rambled along La Rambla in Barcelona you have missed a glorious combination of history, culture, tourist trap, pick-pocket hangout, performance art, indulgance AND just plain fun. If you want it, you can buy it or see it along La Ranbla. And whatever “it” is you want to see, it will be displayed or created in large and most unusual way. Yes! You can buy a pet bunny… or an iguana. Yes! You can drink the largest draft beer I have ever seen. Yes! You can go to a peep show. Yes! You can see one of the most colorful, gorgeous outdoor markets you can imagine (La Boqueria.) Yes! You can see people dressed as everything from Michael Jackson to Senora Vegetable Patch.  Hold on to your purse or your wallet and walk your gawk. And when you get from one end to the other you’ll be at the Port of Barcelona, see a giant Christopher Columbus monument, the Maritim Museum, walk on a very cool bridge and marvel at the beautiful sea and boats. DingDing! Watch out! Someone just whizzed by on one of those red bikes, grazing the hair on your arms!

Then you can turn around and take it all in going the other direction. If you get a hankering, you can take a right or left down some cobblestone streets at any time and find some of the world’s greatest little shops. Lot’s of colorful stuff, mostly designed and made locally. They have their own style in Barcelona and it is full of energy and fun. (See a little bit more in SHOP.) 

Once my feet had been freed from their fiery hell and were happily bounding along with rubber soul, I was free to enjoy La Rambla. Here are some highlights. Be sure to watch all the way to the end, so you can see the King of Pop do his moves.

As I began to make my exit from this place, I ran across this lively reggae band. Microguagua. They had me entranced. Their music was great, and in spite of the heat they were dancing and vamping it up for the crowd. They even got us to sing along with them. After watching them prance around waving their CDs in an act of charmingly shameless promotion, I said “what the heck and bought one.” Here’s a little clip of my new favorite Barcelona reggae band. This will be one of today’s theme songs. It is their band theme song, I guess.

SHOP – While my unfortunate wardrobe planning did put a damper on my shopping experience, I’m happy to report that I found 2 unique and wonderful items in Barcelona. One was a casual dress at a store called Thot, on one of those little streets off La Rambla. (Lots more women wear dresses and skirts over here – with tights and leggings and boots and what have you. Being mostly a pants girl, I’ve been up for some experimenting.) Everything  at Thot was designed in Spain, and most of it made there too. The other item I found, but not that day, are my new favorite pair of shoes. (Yes, Melissa Plastic Dreams, I still love you, but you’ll have to share me now. And I’ll never wear you without socks in hot weather again!)

I’ll admit, I thought I was going home without what I was seeking – a pair of what I call “euro-sneaks”. Spain makes great shoes that look like sneakers, but not the american kind. I looked and looked and even tried some on that day. (I was thankful that when you ask for a sock to try on a shoe there they give you a plastic bag to put over your foot. This is helpful and more hygenic when you have rubbed your feet raw to the point of oozing. Eeww, I know,  but they were.)

Anyway, despite my quest for the perfect pair of euro-sneaks, I returned to my hotel empty footed. It was in the Barcelona airport the next morning (newly remodeled with some excellent local merchandise shops) that I fell in love. Check these out! Is it a boot? A sneak? A euro-sneak-boot? Who knows. These are so comfortable. I wore them home on the plane. And they have walked me all around Paris now… which is much cooler than Barcelona. And these hot shoes are much cooler than Paris sneaks. Trust me on that. Paris has incredible shoes, but not nearly the caliber of Barcelona when it comes to the sneaker-like varieties.

Hi. We're Stephanie's new best friends. We're much cuter in person.

 Here’s the second theme sone for this post. New Shoes by Paolo Nutini.

I’m contemplating future cities for another EatPlayShop temporary living chapter. Should it be Barcelona? Readers, feel free to express your opinion.

The Jacques Report – In Spain, I guess I would have to change it to the Juan Report. While I’m pretty sure no one wants a sweaty, dehydrated woman with oozing feet, I actually was followed by one guy. I’ll call Juan the Leering, Smoking Stalker. Probably had some weird blistered foot fetish. I ditched him by ducking into a shoe store, of all things!

Words from the W. C.  Did I tell you that on La Rambla you see people dressed as everything? Well in case you didn’t believe me, here you go! Or should I say Here HE goes.

Juan on the John

Another little thing I have to report. In my hotel they had the usual notice about not wasting water in several languages. You know, the request to throw the towels you want replaced on the floor, and keep the rest? Well, that request was followed my another one that made me chuckle. “Please avoid flushing abuse.” I think I know what they meant, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that locker room prank where the bully holds the poor freshman’s head in the bowl while flushing. Please tell me that no one is doing this in my nice hotel!

And there is one more word from the W.C. At Parc Guell in the restroom they were rationing out the T.P. A very nice woman handed me 4 squares as I entered, and pointed me to the ladies side. OK. First of all, what are you supposed to do with this when you are handling all of the other things you have to handle before you, um, use the facilities? Hold it in your teeth? And what happens if you drop it? Do you have to yell out “Ayudame! En stall numero dos! Mas papel, por favor!” And what if no one shows up to save you? I’m just saying, this was a first. I did manage, but I’m not sharing any details.

That’s all for now. Buenas Noches. I’ll try to get my other report about my trip to Heidelberg up here before my next special guests arrive. But it probably won’t happen.

I”m delighted to welcome my very wonderful niece Sarah and Sister-in-Law Denise to Chez Stephanie tomorrow. Sarah is a High School senior this year, and when I extended the invitation to them to come see Paris I thought it was a long shot.  Turns out the both of them are in the mood for a little adventure and were able to make it happen. I’m so excited to have  them for a whole week +.  We have quite a schedule planned. Stay tuned. I’ll be reporting when I can.

The Mona Cheesa - latest nominee for cheesiest souvenir

Yes, I’m alive. I’ve just been in hiding. What do you think of my disguise?

I have fallen way behind on my communication here. Mostly because life caught up with me a bit. Between the rest of Debra’s visit, catching up on work, flying to Barcelona and back and now to Heidelberg, I’ve been busy or sleeping.

I don’t want to skip things, so this post is the first in the “catch-up” series.

From cathedrals to patisseries to museums, the balance of Debra’s visit was a blur of activity that I don’t recall in complete chronological order. Thank goodness for my cameras, notes and store/restaurant receipts… and of course pictures like this one.

We ate, played and shopped quite a bit. While no Jacques’ really approached us (they seem to like it when you are flying solo) we did spot some interesting male characters that I will note later in this post.

EAT - While we dined and sampled quite a bit, the stand out moments were these:

Can 2 bumpkins from the states dine like Barack? Yes we can! Sort of. We had a very nice lunch at La Fontaine du Mars.This restaurant, not far from the Eiffel Tower, is now even more notorious because of it’s most recent famous diner: Monsieur President Obama. We arrived for lunch at La Fontaine without a reservation, at noon on the dot just as they were opening. Thank goodness we arrived early, because there was just one table left. It was crammed in the corner for the “special guests.” (And I’m not talking about chief executive sort of “special guests” either.) No one else- especially the regular elite crowd - would settle for this sad little table but we were perfectly happy. Since we were not behaving like the typical 4-course foodie  or” ladies who lunch” crowd we  knew we were not the most popular diners. We simply wanted lunch, something good, and to eat where Barack ate… or at least within a few meters. (Look at that. I’ve gone all metric system!)

Hail to the Chef!

Our waiter was none too pleased that we only ordered entrees, no wine and no dessert. Such peasants! Really, we didn’t have  the time or appetite on that particular day. I had chicken with chantarelles (yum!) and Debra had the most enormous pork chop I have ever seen. I know, you are probably saying “Chicken?” You could have had tripe, escargot or calf’s brains. Perhaps some rabbit?” My chicken was excellent and I was content to watch the ladies next to us be more adventurous as they dug into all of the items listed above. They went on to enjoy some nice desserts as well. The mound of tiny srawberries made me wish we had more time. It took us almost as long to get out of there as it did for them. We were being ignored just a little, as you can imagine. Oh well. I’m sure our lack of adventur-some-ness was something of an insult to the restaurant and every one working there. If I go back, I’ll wear a disguise and try to eat some body part of something that I don’t really want to try. Maybe I’ll even like it.

The other noteworthy eating adventure was both of our first ever visit to Laduree, the famous patisserie. We went to the original location on Rue Royale. I have heard of the place but didn’t realize until we entered how special it is. Tourists and locals alike flock to Laduree to pick up macaroons and other tantalizing treats for the taste buds. We found the atmosphere just as delicious. There are cherubs baking pastries adorning the ceiling. Everything in the tea room makes you feel like royalty. I’ve been collecting Paris rooms to include in my “Princess Dream House.” I’ve decided that Laduree’s tea room is most certainly my perfect dining room.

Feeling like a princess, I ordered Marie Antoinette’s Tea. (“Let them drink spicy black tea with a hint of vanilla and fruit floating in it!) and something I couldn’t even imagine: A cream puff with violet cream filling, violet ganache and crystallized violet on top. Was it purple? Yes. Almost as purple as if Barney were a pastry. It could have sung “I love you, you love me… “. Was it delicious? It was heavenly. I’ve often avoided French pastries because I had made up a story that they are all looks and no flavor. Au contraire! I had not eaten the good ones yet. This little violet work of art was as delicate and regal sliding over taste buds as the finest silk. OK, maybe I’m getting carried away with the princess theme. Let me just say that it was exceptional. Debra’s tarte tartine was also scrumptious.

Will that be all, Your Majesty?

The other diners did not disappoint. A rather eccentric looking woman was sitting, with her dog, directly to my right. She was dressed in lots of colors and textures in a very imaginative combination. I’m not talking Paris Chic, I’m talking Paris Flea Market Quirky. I kept sneaking shots of woman and dog with my flipcam. In the end, Debra caught her getting a shot of me with her pink cell phone. I wonder if I’m in her blog? Caption: “Tacky American tourist in dull attire making a fool of herself in Laduree.”

PLAY – On Friday, we took a side trip to Chartres, home of the cathedral, Notre Dame de Chartres. It is a lovely gothic cathedral with a famous labyrinth. We purposely went on Friday so we could walk the labyrinth. I’m not much for still meditation, but I do enjoy moving meditations. Walking a labyrinth is one way to do this. Both Debra and I took our turn. It was a surreal experience. Here we were, shoes off, reverence on, slowly making our way along the twists and turns on this stone floor where millions of other feet have tread. The idea is to connect with spirit, god, or whatever you want to call it. I was also enjoying connecting with all of the other souls (and their soles) who had walked it before me.

 Meanwhile, half the people standing in the labyrinth had no idea where they are standing. Many of them were trying to get a good shot of the Rose Window or some other element of the cathedral. Walking along in my deeply-in-touch-with-the-oneness-of-the-universe state, I had to dodge or step around a number of  these “unenlightened boobs.” I’m sure they were as confused as I was about what was happening. “Why is this zombie-like woman stepping right into my perfect shot?” “Why is this goofball blocking my spiritual epiphany?” Patience, came the message from on high. They know not what they do. I reminded myself to be a bit more aware of my impact when visiting other places of worship in the future. I’m sure I’ve stepped on someone’s “labyrinth” a few times.

Dude, move! I'm having a precious moment here.

Another noteworthy visit was to Sainte-Chappelle. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post I wanted to go there when it was sunny. The density of the stained glass there deserves some good light. We had heard that part of it was blocked off for renovation. Alas, it was true. That didn’t stop the appreciation for what we could see though. There is no way to describe the infinite amazing details of this place. Everywhere you look a thoughtful adornment has been created. It is as if you have entered a universe of exquisitely wrapped gifts, with jewel encrusted walls. I took some video and made a little movie here. I most certainly can’t do it justice. But, if you have been there and want to pay another visit have a look. I’m mostly posting this video so that I can remember. In my dream house, this is the living room. (Well, maybe with a little less religious adornment, but I’ll keep the color, the motifs and the thousand gorgeous surprises.)

All in all, I think some of our most playful moments were people watching. We met and talked with people on trains. We watched people in cafes and metro stations. We made up stories about them. It is true. There is never a dull moment in Paris if you only open your eyes and look. And then you need a good friend to talk to about it.

During our tea at Laduree that day we heard a big racket outside. Not sure what was going on, we headed for the Place de la Madeleine directly after. There we saw hundreds of people of all ages dressed in elaborate white costumes. There was a big tour-bus type apparatus nearby. There was music and laughter and a general sense of celebration. It turns out a Brazilian festival and annual ritual had just taken place: Lavage de la Madeleine. While we were indulging ourselves with Marie Antoinette’s tea, tarts and crème puffs, they were washing the steps of the Eglise de la Madeleine in a purification ceremony of some sort. What fun! And judging from the sense of celebration, I’ll guess that now that the church was pure and lily-white many of them were off to indulge themselves in some way as well. The circle of life.     

Some of the Costumes at Lavage de la Madeleine

SHOP – We most certainly went into a lot more shops while Debra was here. We shopped along Boulevard St. Germain, Rue St. Dominique, Rue St. Honore, Rue de Rivoli and Rue-Fill-in-the Blank. If there were shoes or yarn in the store we went in.

Speaking of the name Madeleine, here is one of my favorite shops we discovered on Blvd. St. Germain. Medeleine Cely (or Gely… not sure.) I don’t know how to describe les objets inside,  but there were these cool handmade parasols and umbrellas, plus other unique and lovely things. The shop directly connected was where they made the stuff. It was like a princess’ dress up plus arts and crafts room. Guess I’ll have to add that to the dream  house, too.  My Prince, are you out there? I hope you’re ready to flip that house!

Princess Play Room

I made my first venture into Galleries Lafayette with Debra late one day. We never made it out of the shoe department. The shoes take up a whole massive floor of this massive store. If you find a pair you like, you had better leave a trail of bread crumbs or they will be lost to you forever. (Maybe that’s why Parisians carry around a baguette all the time?)

I did make my first Paris shoe purchase of the visit – an interesting pair of black flats, made in Brazil. And they are made not of leather… but plastic! Mon Dieu! Plastique??? Trust me, they are very stylish and extremely comfortable. They are a new concept in shoes and I like that they spare the cows. Let’s hope this very special plastic (I was assured of it’s specialness by the saleswoman) has some very special ventilation/anti-odor feature I don’t know about. Time will tell. But they look FAB!

Of course there were also souvenir shops. Debra had to take home some mementos for friends and family. A favorite item of mine was the plastic shopping tote with a complete color metro map on it. How practical is that? I have not bought it yet, but I’m contemplating. Why pull out a metro map when you can just look at your tote?

Debra took home some interesting things. The most amusing was a pound of beurre sel de Mer for a co-worker. If you don’t know how delicious butter can be, try it with big sea salt crystals mixed right in. We bought some after an old friend of mine wrote that when visiting Paris she always takes home some “beurre de mer.”  It occurred to me that she might have been referring to some sort of face cream, but I decided to look for it in the market. Sure enough, there was some butter that said Sel de Mer. We tried it. We tried it again. We tried it on everything. A whole pound of it went into our mouths that week. Debra decided to share the love of salty, buttery goodness and took some in her suitcase.

The Jacques Report- To finish out this post, I will now share with you some of our most interesting Jacques sightings. Again, they are not official because they did not hit on us. But we enjoyed talking about them:

Petit Jacques Bonjour- this little toddler was walking toward us on the street one day. All dimpled cuteness with huge blue eyes, he looked at us with a big drooly grin and exclaimed, “BONE JOOOOER!” Both of us melted like beurre sel de mer on a hot day. He was just about the cutest little thing we ever saw. Such manners for such a tiny tyke. We decided he had just learned the word, and how to use it. Tres cher!

Jacques le King - It’s not official, but we think Elvis may be alive and living somewhere near the Guy Moquet Metro stop. Clad from head to toe in burnt orange (a new palette for the king) this dude had some serious Elvis on. Big, black slicked-back hair and quite a stage presence. Of course, he appeared to be missing a number of teeth and had aged a bit, but why couldn’t it be Elvis? Nobody has ever been certain…

Jacques Flambeau- He was Debra’s discovery. Up by the terrace one night at Sacre Coeur there he was, twirling his fire baton and setting hearts on fire. Well, maybe not but it sounds good. As Debra said… “He’s Smokin’!”

   -Jacques Flambeau

Theme song? Well, everywhere we went we heard two songs. One I’ve already mentioned. “Those Were the Days.” Couldn’t seem to get away from that one!  The other one? “Autumn Leaves.” Here’s about as french a version as you can get:

I feel a little bit caught up now. Thanks for coming to visit me, dear friend Debra. We had so much fun!

Just after the Twinklies finished their hourly Twinkly Show

Next: EatPlayShop takes a quick trip to Barcelona! I should be back in a couple of days with that one. Stay tuned…

Market at Les Halles

 PART 2 – OK, I know it was really not fair to do a cliffhanger blog post. Maybe I just wanted to be sure that all you readers hear this story so it doesn’t happen to you. The relationship between this next piece to eat,play,shop is that if it happens to you, you won’t be able to do any of the three. This post isn’t all about this story, but it’s what we started with on Thursday morning…

We were all set to leave the apartment and meet a new friend when Debra discovered her wallet was missing. Her wallet contained her credit and ATM cards, plus all the cash she had on hand. (Luckily that was only about 100 Euros. But, it was the sum total of her cash.) If this has ever happened to you, you can imagine where it is going. 

We tore apart the place, looking under everything and trying to retrace our steps from the evening before. The conclusion was that Debra had set her wallet down while bagging groceries at  the Monoprix. She never picked it back up.

We hightailed over to the Monoprix to ask if they had the wallet. After a false alarm in which the checker smiled broadly and called someone to the register (we found out she was only smiling because she was finally able to comprehend our question) we learned that there was no trace of Debra’s wallet in the store. I couldn’t even imagine how Debra must be feeling at that moment.

Back at the apartment, it took only about 20 minutes to get in touch with her bank (which I’ll refer to as ” Big Large American Bank”  or BLAB)  to make sure there were no funny charges and cancel her cards. I was congratulating us and the BLAB system for being so efficient. That was, until she tried to get some money. I bank at BLAB too, so it should have been simple for them to transfer some cash to me. We tried that online (after Debra had to call to get her username, which most of us forget after we tell our computers to save them.) It seems you need your ATM card number to do an inside-the-bank transfer. Oops! No more ATM card… plus it was canceled. Next try, online wire transfer. Nope! Can’t do that with another bank customer. At least, not online. Could they give us a phone number? The “wire transfer” department was closed.

Umpteen phone calls later, over 2 days where Debra was transferred from department to department in an infinite loop going nowhere, she got nowhere. The more desperate she sounded on the phone, the faster they transferred her,  accidentally disconnected her or gave her a toll free number that only works in the US. (She wasn’t desperate, because she had me to give her cash, a computer and a phone to use, but still…) It was unbelievable! We kept asking ourselves, what would she do if she were traveling alone and this happened? She’d be singing in the Metro Station with a cup in front of her, that’s what!

After two days of these shenanigans, her workplace wired her upcoming paycheck into my account. No problems! One request, one minute. Problem solved.

The moral of the story: Now more than ever, you need to heed what the travel books tell you. Bring photocopies of EVERYTHING you carry. Write down your user names, passwords, bank account numbers and emergency collect phone numbers. Keep some cash and  a card separate from your wallet and have an emergency plan with someone who can help you. And never, ever set anything down! (Just because I just wrote that sentence doesn’t mean I had learned the lesson yet. Read on and see.)

I must hand it to Debra. About an hour after the original discovery of the lost wallet, she was ready to go out and have some fun. We didn’t yet know of the impending struggle with BLAB, but she shored her spirit and we proceeded out the door, got her some cash (I felt like a mom giving her an allowance) and hopped on the metro to meet our new friend.  I’ll refer to our  new friend as “Jenny the Jet-Setting Nanny.” (This is not her name, but I wanted to protect her identity. Apparently, she works for some pretty important people and I’m sure they would object if I said anything in the blog about anything.)

We didn’t yet know “Jenny.” I saw her ad on a site called Anglo Info, which is a great place to find out what to do, and how to connect here in Paris with other english speakers. She arrived here the same day I did and had placed an ad looking for peeps to explore the city with. I contacted her and it turns out we have lots in common. She lived in the Bay Area for a long time, and in Arizona, too! Thursday we had planned to meet her at noon at the big giant head at Les Halles. (See previous post for pic of big giant head.) After the wallet debacle we moved our meeting to 1:30, but a solid day of eating, playing and shopping ensued…

Me in front of a cool shop we found

EAT- First things first, we found her and then went straight to the popular street, rue Montrueil (sp?) to sit down at a cafe and have some lunch. My salade nicoise there was excellent, as was the glass of wine that Debra and I decided was very appropriate considering the morning’s activity. At our lunch we learned all about “Jenny’s” new job as day nanny for a family who lives here in Paris, among other locations. She has already been whisked off to the south of france and is ready to go elsewhere, like the middle east, at a moments notice. We learned a bit about how the other half lives. It was fascinating to hear about the lifestyle and now the nanny fits into it. In addition to being a jet-setting nanny, she has had a fascinating life doing other things as well. I’m happy we met Jenny, and plan to spend more time exploring with her in the future… when her employers haven’t taken her to some other exotic place, that is.

While we were in Les Halles area we got to explore a beautiful outdoor market, where we got rotisserie chicken and some unbelievable potatoes to take home for dinner.

PLAY - Debra and I had a chance to show our “Metro Chops” as we gave Jenny a tutorial about how to use the metro. She had been so busy since arriving that the idea of figuring that out was a little too much. No problem, Debra and I are experts at experiential learning. By the end of the day Jenny was riding like a pro.

Sometime during the tutorial we ran across a string orchestra playing a selection from Carmenin the Concorde metro station. The acoustics were amazing. Many people had gathered to watch and listen, including a woman off to the left who had appointed herself “conductor.” She was in her own dream land imagining she was conducting this fine band of musicians.

Just a moment later, as I stopped to buy more metro tickets, I SET SOMETHING DOWN. Bad move. I had purchased this amazing tunic top thingy at a shop earlier. I was so excited about it I kept peeking in the bag all afternoon to see if it was really in there. That’s exactly the bag I set down when buying my tickets. Two stop later I realized I didn’t have it. WE HAVE TO GET OFF!,  I yelled to my companions. Off we went, turned around, got on the train going the other way, and found our way back to that ticket area. This was no small feat, as we had to exit the station and find where we had entered. (Thess places are one huge maze.) Anyway, I ran in, huffing and puffing, only to find my bag still sitting primly on the counter to the left of the window. People were buying tickets and asking for directions, just as oblivious as you please to the little white bag sitting there. Doesn’t security watch out for stuff like this? It could have been a bomb. But it wasn’t, although I do have to say my new tunic/dress thingy is ‘da bomb!

I was so thankful to recover it, and only wished Debra’s wallet could have  been magically inside the bag.

SHOP – Obviously, we shopped that day. The shops in the area were awesome. We got to go in a famous yarn and notions shop that Debra had read about: La Droguerie. This place was like a giant jewel box inside. There were  colorful hanks of yarn everywhere, jars full of buttons and beads that looked like candy, and everything else that glitters, gleams and adorns hanging or resting on every wall and in every possible spot. I was attempting a little James Bond video, when I was scolded once again.” Madame, pliz poot dat away!” So I did. That didn’t stop me from getting a shot of the outside. Ha! If you are ever in Paris, and you like to knit or sew, pay a visit to this store.

La (Fabulous) Droguerie

Debra loves to knit. While she’s here, I’m calling her Madame De Farge. I think I caught her knitting the initials BLAB into a scarf the other day. I think she’s plotting her own revolution. Blood! Off with Big Large American Bank’s head!

Oh, by the way: We both agreed that Thursday’s theme song was I’m a Loser. Here are the Fab Four, performing it in Paris in 1965.

Le Tour Eiffel as Seen from Double Decker Bus

Monday was the start of a whole new chapter in the Eat,Play,Shop story. My friend Debra arrived from the Bay Area ready (well, almost ready) for some eating, playing and shopping of her own. It didn’t take long for us to get into trouble, as we were roundly scolded on the bus home from the airport for talking too loud.  (Imagine a woman with an exremely pained look on her face, using hand guestures to tell us to shut up.)

Monday and parts of  Tuesday were the ramp-up period, as Debra slept off her jet lag and got her bearings. Then we were off and running, talking too loudly everywhere we went.

PLAY and SHOP -Tuesday we rode  the hop-on, hop-off double decker tour bus around from the Louvre to Invalides, seeing all of the sights from great heights. We hopped off and had a great lunch on rue Cler, a street known for its fruit and veggie merchants, for one thing. (In her book My Life in France, Julia Child says she loved to shop for her produce on rue Cler.) It is just a fun place to be, with chocolate shops here, gorgeous fruit there and everything else you can imgine in a festive atmosphere. You can even shop for any little-parisian-doggie accessory your little Fifi or Fido might bark for at this store:

EAT -We had excellent salads and a couple of glasses of champagne at Cafe du Marche. I love their ceasar salad, which is not a ceasar salad at all. It has tandoori chicken, cous cous, green beans and all kinds of other stuff on it. Not an anchovy or a parmesan shaving in sight. But it is GOOD! And the weather was perfect for an al fresco lunch with a toast of bubbly.

Cafe du Marche on Rue Cler - a Personal Fav

Speaking of little-parisian-doggies, I had a great time stealth video-taping this little guy on the metro. We loved his little carrying case with Disney dogs on it. We thought of naming him Jacques, but decided he was more of an Henri. I’m getting pretty good at stealth shots with my little flip camera. Everybody should have one of these! It is so James Bond! It is tiny, it takes great videos, and you can create still shots from them. It is doing much better than my regular camera on this trip.

Metro Doggie "Henri"

PLAY and EAT -Wednesday was a day for a trip inside Musee Rodin and a visit to Paris Playground (colorful workshop facility of our friends and business associates – newleyweds Luly and Marco.) We had lunch with them at an exceptional Italian restaurant. The name? Il Ristorante on Rue Sarcouf. You don’t need a fancy name to serve AMAZING food. Our thanks to Luly and Marco. I so appreciated their grace and humor, especially when I whipped out the video camera without asking how tacky that might be. Tourists! But look at the shot I got of our appetizers! They were begging to be photographed for the record.

Antopasti and Proscuitto w/ Melon

PLAY – Here are we are pausing to recline and relax in the garden at Musee Rodin.

Loungin;

Also Loungin'

SHOP - As the lunch went on and the wine poured, we had lots of laughs with Luly and Marco. Alas, however, they had to get back to work and we had some warm-up shopping to do. After all, if I’m going to drag Debra into every shoe store in Paris, we had to get started. It was only a warm-up so there are no great finds to report.

Then, of course, we had to make a grocery run to the Monoprix on our way back home. Dinner was in both nights because I had to do a little bit of work of my own. My workday here starts at about 4 or 5. It ends about 10 pm. Debra got to hang out and knit, read and listen to her iPod while I talked to my clients. Thrilling for her, I’m sure!

It was on that Wednesday evening trip to the Monoprix that a major turn of events took place. Tune in to the next post to find out what transpired on that fateful stop… TO BE CONTINUED

Mwa-a-a-a - My favorite creepy sculpture - Laughing Man

Getting Ready to Cruise the Canals

Saturday is supposed to be about snoozing a little later than normal, right? Not in my neighborhood. At least not this Saturday. I was awakend by the sound of male voices talking outside my windows. (My cute little apartment is on street level, and I can hear what is happening out there at all times.) I looked at the clock. 6:30 AM.

 In my drowsiness I wondered if “Jacques the Rapper” and his buddies were finishing an  all-night gig and had somehow landed on my street.

I dozed a little longer and then there were more voices, male and female. It was 7:30 by then. I peeked outside and saw well-dressed people collected there doing something. Coffee? Wine Tasting? I don’t know. I didn’t want them to see me spying so I tried to go back to sleep for just a little longer.

A woman started singing a song I remember from childhood: “Those Were the Days, my friend. We thought they’d never end. ..” She was singing it in french, but that tune is unmistakable. My 6th grade teacher used to make us sing that song, along with some of his others favorites like “The Ballad of the Green Beret” (“Fearless men who jump and die” was my favorite line of that one.) Imagine a teacher today leading his class of 11-year-olds in a rousing round of “Once upon a time there was a tavern where we used to raise a glass or two.” Parents or MADD would be calling. Anyway, I digress.

That song got me thinking, though. I thought I had better make today- and every day from now on - one of those days I look back on and say ”Those were the days.” Othewise I might end up the lonely old woman not recognizing her reflection in the tavern glass. Or like that cat in Cats,“.. all alone with the memory, of my days in the sun…” So I got up.

 According to one of my favorite little guidebooks there are these amazing canals running through Paris. You may remember them from the movie Amelie.  I had never taken a boat ride down the canals, so Saturday was the day. It was beautiful out again, perfect weather for a whimsical boat ride through and under tunnels, locks, swing bridges, charming foot bridges and ending at Parc de La Villete. More on this in PLAY.

Swinging Gates and Foot Bridge in a Foot Bridge

EAT - I arrived at the boarding place, near the Bastille, a little too late to have lunch. And let me tell you, people were eating some amazing lunches at the restaurant there. Shell fish and other stuff that looked excellent. All I had time to do was wander in the area and hope to find something for a quick snack. I found a place called Mona Lisa Fast Food. I didn’t really want to try what I saw in there, so I settled for a little snack size Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla Toffee crunch, complete with it’s own wooden spoon. This is the second time I’ve had ice cream for lunch, but who’s counting?

Later in the evening after the whole canal adventure, I did have a proper meal. I went back to the rue St. Dominique near Invalides to a cafe I have walked by many times. Cafe Recruitement… or something like that.  I was craving a beer for some reason. I ordered a Stella Artois, small size draft. The waitress brought me the jumbo size. About halfway through that I lost all resolve to go home and cook dinner. There were some coquilles Saint-Jacques on the menu. (That’s scallops.) It was saturday night and I was not being bothered by any  Jacques in this neighborhood, so I figured why not eat some scallops named Jacques. I did. They were deilicious! I haven’t been eating too many meals out as I’ve been patiently awaiting the arrival of my good friend Debra. She’s coming on monday. Dining out is so much better with two… or more!

PLAY - The canal ride started out feeling like a Disney ride. The boat went through a long tunnel, and as we rode along they projected a hisorical movie on the walls of the tunnel. It was all about the history of the tunnel. I kept waiting to hear some pirates singing “Yo Ho, Yo Ho!

When we came out the tunnel the boat stopped at a series of locks where the water would raise us up a number of feet until we could pass through. This was fascinating the first couple of times. Water came tumbling out of a wall while the boat rose and water would spray all over us in the front of the boat. It was definitely a slow process, and we spent more time waiting for the boat to rise, and for gates to swing open, then we actually spent moving. But when we did move it was enchantinng. We passed under a series of high, arched foot bridges. Each time we passed through or under something people were watching on the side or up on the bridges waving and cheering us on. It looked like it was probably as much fun to walk along the canal as it was to ride on it. I decided I would walk back when the ride was over.

But first, the Parc de la Villette. This is the largest park in Paris, and it is a doozy! It is the first really modern looking space I’ve experienced here. It is long and flat and sits on either side of the canal. There all all sorts of interesting sculptures, stuff built for the World’s Fair, a cinema shaped like a disco ball and every kind of play contraption for kids that you can imagine in one place. There was an old fashioned merry-go-round with a Jules Verne theme, a shoot- rubber-duckies-in-a-barrel game, cotton candy stands, big slides and other kinds of play-on contraptions I’ve never seen before. For adults there was drumming going on several spots and a number of restaurants. There were also these really groovy chairs. They spin around 360 degrees so you can sit all by yourself and gaze at anything you please.

Groovy Spinning Chair

From the posters I saw, I gather there are some excellent outdoor concerts there, too.  Here’s a montage of my journey, from boarding to my foot journey back.

I spent some time wandering around the park and taking it all in. I thought, when I was a kid I would have been begging to come here every weekend. Just as I had that thought, a felt a drop of something wet hit my nose. I looked up. Blue sky as far as the eye could see. I realized in horror that I had been hit by an errant particle of bird dropping! “Ewww!” Followed by reflexive gagging. Thank god it was only a tiny bit. I dug out a Purell wipe from my purse, thankful that even though I’ve been entertaining the idea of traveling around without them, I had restocked. THIS is what they are made for. 

In all my experience of being a bird target, I’ve never taken it in the face. I took it as an omen. Either the “Friends of Monsieur Hemingway” had followed me from the Luxembourg Gardens with a stern warning to stop making  jokes about their late relatives, or it was time to head back before it started to get dark.

SHOP -I began my walk along the canal, tensing up every time I saw the shadow of a bird flying overhead. Eventually I relaxed and got to thinking about the fact that I had not shopped at all that day. That got me thinking about what the act of shopping means to me, really. You know, on a spiritual sort of level! I came up with some interesting thoughts, which I’ll include in a future blog post. For now I’ll just say that I was surprised to discover that my desire to shop may not be as shallow as I thought it was. Phew!

And of course, just as I had that epiphany, what should appear on my right but a candy-licious row of shops all with the same name. One yellow, one green and one pink. What have we here? It definitely looked like a place where Amelie might shop. It was called Antoine et Lili, and I was instantly smitten!

Antoine et Lili

One shop was gift and decorative items, the next was for kids, and the third one (which I almost missed) was the grown-up girl clothes. What  amazing collections of vibrant merchandise! Full of character and imagination, these stores were maybe the favorite ones I’ve seen yet. The colors made my mouth water. The creative choices and the way they were displayed made a kaleidescope of possibility. It really hit me that the special something that invites you into a store, and keeps you in there once you enter, is a complete mystery to me. All I know is I pick up on it like some sort of sonar. I remember seeing these from the water when I was going the other way. To create a place that shoppers can’t resist is it’s own art form, and I stood in awe of the creators.  

After that nice little retail rest stop, I continued my way toward my dinner.

Later in the night, as I settled in for a good night’s sleep at about 11:30, I became aware that the neighborhood was in full swing with some sort of celebration. There was throbbing dance music, groups of voicing chanting something, and all sorts of raucous raving that told me something really important happened that day. I could not tell where the party was, or what it was for. All I can tell you is it raged on until the wee hours. And that meant only one thing. Sunday was for sleeping in. And sure enough, all was peaceful on my street well into the morning that day.

My Amelie experience on Saturday reminded me that even those of us who can  entertain ourselves for hours solo, and who find whimsy and possibility everywhere, still crave the company of others sometimes. I spent Sunday getting ready for the arrival of my first visitor – my friend Debra. And I felt very ready for some company.

I’ll be reporting in as much as I can during her visit, but I’m guessing it might be a few days. I can’t even imagine what sort of trouble two of us can get into!

Here are Saturday and Sunday’s special music selections:

Those were the days, from One-Hit-Wonder Mary Hopkin

La Valse D’Amelie

Something "Official" goin on at Le Arc

It was Friday morning and I was heading nowhere in particular on the metro when I suddenly heard music in my head, “If I had my way, I’d just walk through those doors and wander down the Champs-Elysees.” Thank you Joni Mitchell! I knew that a song cue would tell me what to do on this day with no commitments and no ideas.  So that’s just what I did. I was off the train at Champs-Elysees stop and on to a day full of totally aimless wandering.

I did have one thing I wanted to find and that was one of my favorite shoe stores, Heyraud. I knew they had a store on the Champs because last time I was here I went there on a wild goose-chase there with my friend Lauren. We were trying to find these amazing sandals with big black patent leather flowers on them, in my size, which is 40. (As if 9 isn’t a large-enough- sounding- number for a foot, 40 sounds gargantuan! But it must be normal here, because the stores are often out of it.)  We did find those black sandals at that Champs location in size 40 and I vowed to always return. Sadly, I didn’t find the store on this day. But I know I will.

I did find lots of interesting things, though. As usual. Here’s the report:

EAT: I ate at home so really only needed a snack. There were so many amazingly fun-looking cafes. People were drinking really interesting things… some of them in pink and other pastels. Several times I thought about sitting down at one of these cafes, but for some reason they all looked like they’d be more fun with company. I decided to note some for later and  stop instead at the McCafe. (Yes, that means the Golden Arches.). This was an idea suggested by my friend Debra’s sister. She was right. The view from the McCafe (it really is called that) is just as good as any other. Plus they have espresso drinks and excellent baked goods and desserts. So why not? This way I wasn’t taking a table from some honeymooners elsewhere. I had myself a delicious Cookie of 2 Chocolats and an Evain. I forgot to check and see if they really do call a quarter pounder a “Royale”… like they said in Pulp Fiction.

Le McCafe w/ Marching Band

As I left the McCafe I saw a uniformed marching band heading down the street. Interesting… were they coming from some parade?

PLAY: Right as I got off the metro I saw something interesting across the street. As I headed closer I realized it was an antique/rare car auction. I was wandering around and peering in, like most folks. There were some cool looking cars in there. Some were very Great Gatsby and some more Gangster or Racecar looking. Turns out lots of the cars were Bugattis. Not being a car person I had to look up Bugatti on Wikipedia (I love Wikipedia) to find out about them. Pretty impressive! Here’s a pic of one 1927 model being lowered off a trailer not yet inside the tent. I overheard someone saying 1927, so that’s how I know.

When I had made it to the end of the Champs where the Arc de Triomphe is, I noticed that a whole mass of uniformed officials had gathered there. I wandered around, trying to figure out what was going on. No clues. As I made my way back down the other side of the street I heard marching band music. My band was coming back up the street, and this time they were playing! They marched right past McCafe where I first spotted them. I don’t know what the occasion was, but they were heading down toward the Arc. It was fun and oddly moving to watch and listen. Here’s a video, partially obscured by cars. Anyone know what that song is?

Back at home in the evening I decided to take a walk up the Butte again to have a sundown experience at Sacre Coeur. It is safe to walk around here after dark so I set off up the hill. I wasn’t prepared for such aliveness when I got there!

The cathedral is all lit up and ghostly at night, looming above like a giant nightlight. There were people around speaking all kinds of languages and taking pictures. There were no musicians, but the street souvenier sellers had their stuff on blankets everywhere. All of the twinking light-up Eiffel Towers kept me from stepping on stuff. A few feet away, a glimpse of the real Tour Eiffel was there to be had… all lit up and begging to be photographed. My camera wasn’t working well, so I have nothing to show of the tower except what is in the video coming up, but it was amazing to see.

My camera challenges make it look even more ghostly

I took a walk toward the action, accompanied for part of the time by “Jacques the Rapper” (see special report below.) The action is in the area where the tourist shops and cafes are and they were going full force. You can’t move a step without meeting someone who wants to draw your portrait or tripping over a mime. Nevertheless I found it all enchanting and surreal. I’ll be back with some friends, soon, for some drinking and dining.

Here is my film noir, La  Butte at Night. Don’t miss the mime, and me trying to be nice to the very aggressive portait guy at the end.

SHOP: Nothing much to report, except for two things.

1. It appears that the fur vest (fake or real) is the big thing this fall. Don’t know if that’s true at home, but here every shop has some version of it. You’ve got your full fur, fur-trimmed, furry textured fabric and long and short versions. The concept is growing on me (not literally, of course.) But I’m not sold yet. Stay tuned.

2. I prefer shopping in neighborhood boutiques over streets like the Champs. There are so many US store brands there. I even went in to see if they carried different merchandise. Nope! Looks the same. But I guess that’s attractive if you’re not from there. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of other amazing stores. Not being label-conscious, though, I didn’t find the sort of uniqueness I like here. Of course, if I had located my fav shoe store all bets would be off

I’ve decided to include 2 new sections in my blog. The first is Les Jacques Report and the second is Words from the W.C.

I realize that it might get old for some to hear daily reports on the various men I meet. It might even sound like I’m bragging. I’m not. I’m just shocked.  I have to say that after spending almost 20 years in the San Francisco Bay Area, I think I’ve been deprived a bit. If you’ve never lived there as a woman, you wouldn’t know about a peculiar phenomenon. There are plenty of straight men there, but for some reason they have developed a unique style.

Knowing that they are outnumbered by available women, they seem not to appreciate them. I didn’t realize this until I spent some time in L.A. and saw the difference. I guess when the supply outweighs the demand you can pretend you’re not interested. The result: many women walk around SF feeling a bit invisible. Am I right Bay Area girls? So my ego is loving the Jacques’ here in france. I have not been hit on this much since Calvin Klein Jeans came out. If you know what I’m talking about, you know how long ago that was!

Words from the W.C. is where I’ll deposit any potty humor that comes up. Not all people find it appealing, but I know some of you do. Don’t expect something every time, but I wanted to have a special place for it so those who don’t appreciate can avoid.

So here they are.

Les Jacques’ Report – In the afternoon by the Petit Palias, in front of the Winston Churchill statue, I met “Jacques Pour le Plaisir.” He was an older gentleman who asked me to call him next week for - I’m not kidding - ”an afternoon of pleasure.” I tried to tell him that my friend Debra will be here and he would have to take on both of us, but his english was about as good as my french so I don’t think he got it.

Up at the cathedral I met “Jacques the Rapper.” No, not the Ripper, the Rapper. He was a tall, youngish looking guy from Senegal who spoke really good english and wasn’t bad looking except for his very bloodshot eyes. He said his dad was from the US. He was nice, although I think he had been consuming more than just the beer he was toting. I suspect he had been smoking some of “le ganja” with his buddies. He had dreds and his jeans were slung a bit low, gangsta style. He told me he was a rap and reggae musician, and was on his way to meet his “homies” about their next gig.  Hearing him say “my homies” in his French/Senegalese accent was a hoot. Just when I was figuring out how to separate myself from his company his iPhone went off. “Hit the Road, Jack” was playing as his ringtone. I’m not kidding. I couldn’t dream this stuff up. Jacques did hit the road in search of his homies and I continued on my own, amused.

Words from the W.C – You know when you look at a word and you know it says one thing but you see something else? Well, there is a metro stop on my line called Miromensil. You guessed it. Every time I see it I think “Metamucil.” As I was riding the train toward home on Friday afternoon, it was more crowded than I have ever experienced. It was hot and smelly and we were packed in so tight that I didn’t have to hold on to anything becuase the other peeps were propping me up. A couple of stops, and more and more people were getting on while hardly anyone was getting off. “When are we going to get some relief? I implored the cosmos. Next stop “Metamucil.” Sure enough, mass exit. I guess that stuff works! Imploring the cosmos, I mean.

Friday’s theme songs aren’t hard to guess. We have “Free Man in Paris” by Ms. Mitchell.

And “Hit the Road Jack” by Mr. Ray Charles.

It’s already Sunday and I still haven’t told you about Saturday. Stay tuned! (Pun intended.)

Place des Vosges

So far, I’ve been a shopping wimp. An inexpensive scarf here, a needed pair of gloves there, window shopping and notetaking, mostly. Until Tuesday and Wednesday, when I hit another area of the city – Le Marais. Watch out American Express. She’s ba-a-a-ck! Actually,  lots of shops don’t take AMEX here, so I’ll have to employ extra dicipline when the bills come. For the last couple of days, I completely forgot that there is a recession going on. I guess if my dollars are dropping in value, I might as well spend some of them, right?

My original intention was to return to this amazing part of town to revisit Place des Vosges, a stunning, harmonious archtectural work of art where I remember feeling at peace and transported into the past on my last visit. The whole neighborhood has a rich history that you can feel in the air. It is an important area of the city for the Jewish and Gay communities. It is full of beauty, original art, great food (I spotted my first parisian bagel here) and, of course, SHOPS!

EAT - While my attention really was not on food here, it could have been. I saw everything from Sushi Bars to Tea rooms and would love to return with a friend just to linger at one of the many cafe’s, full of character. Both my visits were short, and between my usual brunch and dinner times. On the second day, I brought along some nuts to munch on as I sat at “le place,” because I knew my tummy would be growling. I found the pigeons here quite agressive. One of them even stepped on my toe while stalking me for a cashew. I, being an american germo-phobe, had packed some purell wipe packets into the outside pocket of my purse. When I finally sat down to munch and got ready to wipe the “metro-bacteria” off my hands, I noticed they were gone. Pickpocket? Maybe. Probably the ghosts of residents past, telling me to get over it! I ate my nuts with my tainted fingers, and I’m still alive to tell about it.

PLAY – Just sitting there was a study in play. There were lots of young  student-types sitting in clusters. I could hear the sound of teenage chatter, which sounds the same in every language I’ve noticed! Over to one side there were these teeter totters that work whether you have someone on both ends or not. They made a constant “skreeky” noise as solo kiddies tottered at a furious pace. I was struck by the fact that the calming impact of this place was lost on the little ones. They’ve got energy to expend no matter what the architects intended! It was great people watching, but I must admit that I spent most of my time shopping… and I didn’t even make it to the best street. I’ll be back!Pop

Here is my very first movie, complete with score. I did not go to film school, obviously, but I am a self-taught user of Flipshare software. Pop yourself some popcorn and enjoy this 1-minute wonder – Place des Vosges: The Movie.

SHOP - The first day I only had about an hour (poor planning.) As I proceeded down rue St. Antione I found the coolest kitchen gadget store: La Vaissellerie. Now THIS was a place for a Paris Souvenier that isn’t cheesy. Although, there were a number of items there for purchase that were related to cheese, as you can well imagine. There was even a round plastic container for keeping you camembert fresh. You could “dial-a-wedge-size” by rotating, so that you seal off your soft cheeses perfectly. Of course, for it to work you have to cut your wedges straight. Every kitchen needs one of these. I decided mine didn’t.

Cool Kitchen and Gift Stuff

What I did take home with me was something I’ve seen before, and  love, because it is about rabbits. Salt and Pepper grinders that look like bunny-heads! And magnetic, so I could put them up on the fridge for space-saving purposes! What a concept! I was doubly pleased because I hadn’t found any salt or pepper in the apartment. As usual, though, I did find some salt this morning when I looked one last time. But that’s OK. I have my new pets, Salt ‘n Peppa, to keep me properly seasoned. And for all of you old Salt ‘n Pepa fans, know that they “Grind it REAL GOOD!”

Les lapins, "Salt 'n Peppa"

On day two, I hit some clothing stores along the same street. Oh, the shoes! One store in particular had some fab footwear – Jonak. No purchase that day, but I’ve got my eye on a pair or two.

In a little boutique called Tera Bora I found it – the piece de reisistance – the item that will forever remind me of this trip. At least for now… I had entered this little store, “bonjoured” the vendeuse properly, asked if she spoke english, and heard “Non.” She lost interest in me after I responded that I didn’t speak francais either. I wandered through the little store in my unsual tactile way, feeling everything, picking up things on hangers and making them “dance.” (My friends who’ve shopped with me know what I’m taking about.)

Then my eyes fell upon it. This jacket/coat thing. It was a sort of patchwork masterpiece in lots of small prints and brocades of colors I love. All of the buttons going down the front were mismatched, chunky and antique looking. Ooh! I just kept picking it up, looking at it, hanging back up and repeating. I noticed in the background the U2 song “Magnificent” was playing. Bono just kept singing the word. I asked myself, is this thing magnificent, or am I just giddy with a Paris shopping bug? Bono says it is magnificent. He wouldn’t lie! It was then that I looked at the back. Right between the shoulderblades was a huge embroidered rose. OMG! I had to try it on.

La Vie en Rose

When I asked Madame Vendeuse if I could try it, her eyes lit up and we were suddenly best friends. (She either loved it too, or was hoping some fool would take it off her hands.) This piece is not for the faint of heart, or the person hoping to “blend.” In wardrobe terms, it would be referred to as a “costume piece.” That’s something that doesn’t go with much, is perfect for certain occasions, and might start a conversation. The conversation with another might be “That’s interesting, where did you get that?” The conversation with yourself, when discovering it in your closet a few years later might be more like, “What the hell were you thinking?”

At that moment I was thinking “I hope it fits me.” It did. The vendeuse said, “C’est bon!” I said, “C’est le mien!” But before I pulled out my credit card I tuned my ears to the background music one more time. This time, Sinead O’Conner was telling the coat “Nothing compares, nothing compares to you.”

That was all I needed. In coaching terms, we call that listening at level 3 (hearing clues through every thing in the environment.) I knew this “Technicolor Dream Coat” was going to be hanging in my closet, and hopefully traveling around on my back frequently. What better place to wear a “costume piece” then on an adventure where you vowed to do things differently than usuual? This item is definitley a departure from my norm. It wasn’t the only piece of clothing I bought on Wednesday. But, I’ll bet it will be the one I regret the least and love the most… or the other way around. Only time will tell. For now, I’m in love!

And just in case you’ve already guessed, today’s theme songs are “Magnificent” by U2, and not the Sinead song, but “Coat of Many Colors” by Dolly Parton. Sorry to do this to you if you aren’t Dolly-tolerant, but I couldn’t get the tune out of my head. Plus, it always makes me cry a little. Grab a tissue and have a little listen.

Heading back to the apartment, I sat on the metro noticing that I hadn’t had a Jacques encounter on either day. To preserve my ego I reminded myself that all of those good-looking well-dressed guys I saw in Le Marais might have been looking at each other.

But then, a nice young guy sat next to me toward the end of my ride. He spoke to me in french, I thought he was talking into his cell phone headset, I asked if he was talking to me, and he turned out to have perfect english.  “Jacques dans le Metro” is a professional interpreter, tour guide, and teacher of language. Score! I quickly got his number before his stop so I could call him for some lessons. Now, if I could just get my cell phone working…In fact, I think I’ll head out right now and try one more time at the Tabac to get the minutes charged.

See you soon!