TravLog 01-12-05

~More Links Than You Can Shake a Stick At~
Up early today, my last full day in Paris. Vivi and I tried to keep quiet, so as not to awake our roommates at the Youth Hostel. Hostel life is something that does take some getting used to. I definitely shoulda done this while I was in college, but since I've been away from dorm-style living for so long, it's taking me a little longer to get into the swing of it. On the PRO side, it's VERY cheap, we get to meet and mingle with other travelers, and there's a sort-of instant camaraderie among all the guests of the hostel. On the CON side, there's no chance of room service, you have to share rooms, and the showers are, erm...idiosyncratic. But did I mention it's cheap?
Breakfast was bread and instant coffee. And I think the powder used to make the "coffee" was the same as that used to make the "hot chocolate." But not I'm nitpicking. Mustn't forget how cheap it is. And, truth be told, while our breakfast would never be mistaken for gourmet, it was just what we needed to fuel us until lunch.
So we headed for a second try at gaining admittance to the Musee National du Moyen Age, or Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages. It was well worth the trip back. You just can't find this stuff in the States. The Lady & The Unicorn tapestries are there, as well as clothing, furniture, statues, weapons, and architecture from the middle ages. I was a picture taking fool, knowing that when you're looking for just what type of ring Bishops wore in the 1100's, or what kind of shoes the people wore, or how they made communion wafers or how they lit their homes, you can't find it. So I wanted to have photographic record, because I know it's gonna come up again later. I wish I'd been able to take this trip when I was working on costumes for Henry V a few years ago - it would have saved me a lot of headaches.
By the time Vivi & I got outta there, my aged knees and feet were killing me, and I was in dire need of ibuprofen. But I'd used up the packet that Steph had given me, so that meant we had to look for one of those neon green signs that indicate where the pharmacies are.
One dose and a lunch at Au Bon Couscous later, I was ready to move again. We visited the Crypte underneath the square in front of Notre Dame. It was very interesting to see the many layers of the city that had been uncovered going back to when the Parisii tribe inhabited the island in the Seine that is now l'Ile de la Cite. They had ways of heating the rooms by circulating warm air under the floors. Much better than cold bathroom tiles in the morning, I should think.
At this point, we headed towards Pere Lachaise, the grand cemetery where the rich and famous of Paris are buried. I have always loved a good graveyard, but this one...this one was the absolute tops. It has the highest concentration of art and statuary devoted to grief and sorrow that I have ever seen, possibly in the world. If you don't believe me, just check out the Google Image search results for "pere-lachaise." Just a few names of those who are buried there: Frederic Chopin, Moliere, Maria Callas, Isadora Duncan, Georges Bizet, Honore de Balzac, Collette, Abelard & Heloise, Sarah Bernhardt, Oscar Wilde, and Jim Morrison.
We didn't have long to visit before they closed up, so we were just wandering around looking - Vivi for Morrison's grave, Me for a view I'd seen in a b/w photograph while I was preparing for this trip. Okay, so lemme give you the setup: my legs and feet are KILLING me, the daylight was fading, the cemetery was closing, and we had NO IDEA where to find what we were looking for. Enter Raphael. "Tu cherche Jeeem Moereesohn?" he asked. "uhh, ye-,.. Oui!" I replied. "Come weez me. I show you." And he led us on the most circuitous route EVER, stopping by notable graves, and pointing out interesting things about them.
Perhaps the most interesting one he pointed out to us was Victor Noir (a nom de plume, I think) , a journalist for La Marseillaise, who was shot by Pierre Bonaparte (nephew of Napoleon) for either writing something bad about him, or for cuckholding him. or perhaps both. The grave features a sculptural representation of Monsieur Noir as he fell. The murder caused quite a stir - riots, the whole bit - and Bonparte (quel surprise) walked. The sculptor wanted to remind any viewers that Victor was plucked from the prime of his life. And that's definitely the impression that I got from the sculpture. But the story, as told to us by Raphael, was that for three days, the deceased retained his...virile tumescence. Indeed, the sculpture does indicate a certain, je ne sais,...protuberance? in the nether region. cheers to the prime of life! And apparently, women have been coming ever since to the grave of M. Noir for help in the boudoir. So the legend goes, if you caress his, er... bulge, you will have fantastic orgasms for the next three days. And if you clutch his toes, you'll get children (one foot for a single child, both feet for twins.). As I would be spending the majority of the alotted time with Vivi, I decided that any orgasms, fantastic or not, would be inappropriate. And as for children, well, now's just not the time. So I abstained from the whole exercise. Vivi, being married, decided to humor Raphael by the grasping of the feet only. That's my good girl.
Here's a pic of Vic, from this website:
..notice the patina. [update: here's a bbc.co.uk article about Vic and the "attention" he receives.]

So, well and truly flustered, we keep walking. We got to Jim's grave, the statue had been stolen years before, so it ws a pretty plain site now, save for the love-tokens left by devoted fans. Vivi wanted to see the columbarium ("Barrr-bee-Cue!!" as Raph called it), so we checked out a bunch of notables there. I reeeeeally wanted to find a specific site for a photo that I'd seen earlier on the net, and admittedly, started to get whiney about it. I wanted to lose Raphael and go look for it on my own. The cemetary was going to close soon, and I still hadn't found the spot. The light was fading and would soon be dark, this odd-smelling Frenchman wouldn't let us just wander on our own, my legs and feet were killing me, and I couldn't find the place to take the picture that I wanted!!! I think I even stamped my feet. I know I whined and pouted.
Vivi, knowing me very well and knowing what my whining, stamping, and pouting means, finally managed to get rid of the guide (of course, we tipped him. we're not that cold.) and we headed on a long path back toward the entrance where we'd come in. At this point, I was truly getting panicky, and Vi was being as patient with me as humanly possible. I was taking random photos, in an attempt to get something artistic, even if it wasn't the view I'd been looking for, when all of a sudden, we stepped out into a clearing above some steps and the angelic choir started to sing. I'd Found It. I took some photos, and instantly, my mood lifted. We could go now. Mission Accomplished, but not in the G.W.Bush sense. This was the real thing. We got back to the side entrance where we'd come in, but it was locked. And then, when we got to the main front entrance, it too was locked.
Hm.
Now it was Viv's turn to get panicky. For some silly reason, she really didn't want to get locked in a cemetary in Paris on a cold night in January. Whatever, I'd gotten my picture. I knew all would be fiiiiiine. And without stretching this story out further too late, it was fine. We found some more people, followed them, and got to the last open gate where a security guard was ushering people out. Oh happy relief. Once we got outside, we sank down onto the sidewalk, had a giggle and some water I'd kept in my bag (along with the blessed ibuprofen), and formed a plan for the rest of the night. Wandered around the Centre Pompidou (on a longer trip someday, I'll catch a show there), saw the fountain, ate some more fast food, wandered to Les Halles, then back to the auberge (hostel) to chat with one of our roommates, Myumi from Japan, and repack for the journey home. Sheer exhaustion + Tylenol PM = deeeeep sleeeeeeep.

TravLog 01-11-05

Summit closed
Originally uploaded by Epiphany.

Travlog 1/11/05
Paris: CLOSED
Awoke early, had a spongebath in the sink in attempt to conserve hot water for Vivi. Unfortunately, the method did not conserve time, so we started out a little behind schedule. Took all my tonnage (why, oh why so much champagne!!) to the train station with a major assist from Vivi. Got to Paris around 9:45 a.m. On the map, it didn't look that far to the hostel. The metros would take us there with not a lot of traveling above ground. In reality, we had to go up and down more sets of steps than I could count, dragging my big suitcase, 2 carry-on sized bags, my backpack, and both our purses. Bulky coats and scarves completed the ensembles.
At the hostel, we couldn't get into our room yet, so we had to put the bags in the luggage room. Down in the cellar. Again with the steps! We simply trusted that karma would see to it that nothing was stolen from our bags in the communal luggage room. That, plus the fact that I knew something a would-be thief didn't: once my suitcase got opened, it'd take several large people to close it again.
Walking out of the hostel, carrying just my purse, I felt like a new woman, but one with a sore back. We headed out in the directions to see something I'd been psyched for MONTHS to see: Les Catacombes. When we got there, there was a sign on the door saying they were closed until May. I was SO upset. There was just a small paper sign on the little door. There should have been billboards, or notification upon arrival at CDG airport, or at least some guy there handing out Kir Royales to all of the upset touristes who travelled all this way ("Nous pardonnez, mesdames. Nous sommes fermes pour une tres long time. Ici est l'alcool pour to drown votre sorrows in."). Instead, we sampled the Royale with Cheese at the MickeyD's across from the Cluny Museum. I have never seen a McDonald's so packed.
After lunch, we headed to the Cluny, or the National Museum of the Middle Ages. It. Was. Closed. while I stood there, staring at the sign with my mouth agape, watching my entire trip to France fade away into dust, Vivi exclaimed defiantly: "Let's go to the damn top of the Eiffel Tower!!!"
What an absolutely lovely thing to say.
So off we went, determined to find something in Paris that wasn't closed. And then, the top of the Eiffel Tower...was closed. At this point we just had to laugh. Kinda like Tom Hanks in The Money Pit when he falls through the floor and gets stuck in the carpet. click it. you know you want to. Fortunately, the first and second stages were open, so we went up to see what we could. I sent possibly the cheesiest email ever from the 2nd level (Eiffel has i-net access. who'da thunk?), bought very silly souvenirs at the gift shop (I think I was just giddy over finding something that wasn't closed), saw the tower exhibits and a temporary ice-skating rink on the first level. I think if our shins and knees weren't shot from all the lugging of the suitcases (so THAT's why they call it LUGgage), we would have attempted the ice-skating, just to say we did, but as it was, just looking at the skaters made my legs ache. Well, that plus walking down all the steps because the elevators were so full.
Came back to the hostel, wrestled our bags up to our room, and bemoaned our increasing age and infirmity. The other people here have bags at least as big as mine, and I haven't heard one complaint from them. When did I get so old? A quick freshen up, and then we headed out to get some dinner and some books in English from Shakespeare and Co. We decided to dine in the Latin Quarter at a place called Mythos. That is a story unto itself (for Vivi's impressions, click here).

We wandered around Notre Dame, all lit up at night, and we noticed that there is a crypte underneath the square in front of Notre Dame where they've excavated and found the remains of several civilizations all on top of each other. Of course, it was CLOSED, but we expected that, because it was late at night by that point. We'll head there tomorow, though.

By this point, we were pretty knackered, so we headed back to the hostel, where we hung out for a bit, met travelers from Boston, New Zealand, Australia, London, Taiwan, and Argentina. Not a bad way to end the day.

TravLog 01-10-05

Vivi and I slept in late, then headed down the block for some coffee and Rapido. Rapido is a lottery thing that pays every fifteen minutes. Unless you're me, and then it pays never. And as for the coffee, let me just start by saying that I'm a BIG fan of coffee. And I do like French coffee. But it ain't like American coffee, if you buy it from a coffee shop. It's more like espresso. Not that there's a thing wrong with that, but if you're in the mood to sip a big fat steaming cup of coffee over a period of about 20-30 minutes, you're out of luck. It's possible to get the regular-style cup, but you have to know how to order it. "Cafe" gets you the weeteeniny cup of very strong coffee. "Cafe au lait" gets you the weeteeniny cup of half very strong coffee and half steamed milk. "Cafe creme" gets you maybe a normal cup of coffee with cream, or maybe a cafe au lait. And it usually involves some amount of conversation and gestures illustrating the size of the cup, followed by pointing and nodding. And then they bring a hot chocolate.
Went to grocery store afterward for the day's food and some candy and chips to take back to the states. Made some pasta and a yummy salad for lunch then took a shower. I was trying to use up some of my travel bottles of shampoo and soap to make room in my suitcase and I ended up taking quite a long shower and feeling cleaner than I have in a week. I think I used up all the hot water, but at least I did get to shave. A mini triumph, as while I was at Doc and Marc's house, I kept forgetting to bring the razor into the shower with me. It's a good thing it's winter, and I'm wearing pants every day, that's all I've got to say. Feeling like a new woman, I walked around in Troyes with Vivi for a couple of hours looking for more gifts and some of the cool skirts and shoes that I've seen around here. But I got too picky and ended up empty-handed. We met the kids she babysits, and I got to play a rubber-band-y/jumprope-y kinda game. Their mom came home after a couple of hours and we headed home. Vivi ate quickly and headed to choir practice, and Steph and I had some leftovers from lunch and tabouli with chicken. I checked my email - got one from Dad!! :) and Steph and I sat down to watch "O Brother, Where Art Thou" in French. It was a pretty laid back day, but that's good because tomorrow Vivi and I head back to Paris for the last leg of my trip and I know we'll keep ourselves quite busy then!

TravLog 01-09-05

Today I slept in a bit, then packed,er,...crammed my suitcases to head back to Troyes. Tonton Daniel (Marc's Uncle Daniel) gave me 3, yes, THREE bottles of The Best Champagne Ever to take back home with me. He grows the grapes and makes the champagne himself, and it's very very very very good. Better than any other champagne I've ever had. In addition to those bottles, Doc gave me another bottle that she'd kept for me from when they celebrated Matthieu's christening. It's got his picture on the label. So, in all, I've got four bottles of homebrew champagne to take back. I hope at least two of them make it all the way home.
As Doc and I were leaving the house, I hugged Marc and Matthieu goodbye and started to cry. I was very sad to leave, because I know it'll be a couple more years at least until I'll be able to come back to see them. At least I had Doc with me for a few more hours as she drove me back to Vivi's house.
On the way there, she stopped to show me the place she wants to convert to a gite. Talk about your fixer-uppers! I could see the sky through the bedroom ceiling. I could feel the breeze from the walls. But it sounds like she's got a good plan for it. Maybe the next time I come to visit, it'll be finished.

After that, we went on to Joinville, for lunch and a tour of Le Chateau du Grand Jardin. The chateau was closed but we walked around the gardens for a bit. There was an herb garden for flavorful and medicinal herbs, a cutting garden for fragrant and display flowers, a formal garden, a labyrinth/maze (I'd never actually seen one in person), a grove of fruit trees, and a walk surrounded in vines (grapes, I think). We met the most amazing swan in the Romantic garden. It was completely black with a red beak and eyes ( see pic - click for more), and it swam right up to us. I was entranced by it, the serpintine way its neck moves, and the way it glided around on the water with no visible means of propulsion. yes, i know it used its feet. i said visible.
After the gardens, we went to an exhbit of Samurai art at a local museum. I'm an American, in france, viewing an exhibit of Japanese art. What's not to love?
Doc, because she is a cool chica who knows me very well, took me on a meandering route back to Troyes. We were particularly looking for those little roadside attractions signs, and today we hit some really cool stuff at Rosnay l'Hopital. There was a crypte below a church that dated from the 12-16th centuries, but we didn't go in, because we would have had to get the key from the priest who lived somewhere down the road, and we didn't want to disturb any one. At least, I didn't want to disturb anyone. Doc was totally willing to go banging on the door of Father Guillaume just so I could see what a crypte looks like. I love her. As we were exiting the cemetary by the church, we became enamored of a roofline just in the distance, so we got in the car to go take a closer look at it. We drove by a large house with a big fence around it, and circled around the back to try and get a better view. We couldn't get any closer to the house, because the grounds were so big, but what we did find at the back of the garden was pretty doggone neato, if you ask me. It looked like some garden walk that someone had landscaped with these huge boulders making archways and the base of a hill with steps leading up to a round tower. I let out a gasp and grabbed my camera, and doc, knowing exactly what that meant, pulled over so that I could exit the car more safely and go take a closer look.
Something heading toward me made me look to the right to see a large, beautiful dog jogging towards me. Doc knew the breed of the dog (longhaired greyhound? whippet? wolfhound thingy?), and maybe she'll leave a comment and let me know what it was. *hint* So I'm standing there, with this dog nearly as tall as I am heading toward me, and I figure I can play naive and try to make friends with it, or I can squeal like a little girl and jump back into the car. Being the animal-lovin' Sagittarian that I am, I chose to make friends. Thankfully, the dog seeemed receptive to this idea, so we shared a moment through the fence. If I could talk dog, I would have asked her what the story was behind the garden/boulder-archy/tower thing was, but alas, I don't, so I didn't.
The sun was setting as we drove on to Vivi and Steph's house. From the car, I took a few blurry pictures of the bright pink and violet streaks across the sky. When we reached our destination, Doc helped me carry,er,...drag my bags to the door and we said a sad goodbye on the sidewalk. I wish I had more friends like Doc and Vivi back home, but I guess this way I just appreciate them more when I do get to see them.
I didn't get a chance to get too weepy on the sidewalk, because I looked down at my bags to find that I'd dragged one of them through a pile of the ubiquitous dog poo. Twice. And not only that, but I and several other pedestrians had turned that same pile o' poo into a poo mine field right there in front of Vivi's door. So my actual entry into the house was delayed and a bit anticlimactic as I had to sit outside for several minutes to clean my shoes and the wheels of my suitcase.
A quick freshen up, and Vivi, Steph, and I went for dinner at his parents' house. The menu included escargots and rabbit stew. Now, I loves me some escargots, so the biggest challenge there was to not make a pig of myself. ohhh, the butter,.... But when it came to the rabbit stew, it was a different story. First let me say that I'm a big fan of stew. And this stew was tasty, choc' full of not-from-a-can vegetables, and clearly homemade with love. and rabbit. But you know how when we make chicken or beef stew, the meat doesn't really look like the animal it came from? Well, I think I could have reassembled the rabbit from everything there in the stew. Floating. right there. I think perhaps the ears and head were mercifully left out, but the rest,... I'll try my best to avoid any gory details. I scooped out as many chunks of vegetable and ...meat...that I could without getting ...recognizable segments of rabbit anatomy or ... other organs. I guess I can sum up by saying that the stew was a bit too naturel for my taste.
After dinner our attention was diverted by an extended news update on the aid and reconstruction going on in Indonesia following the tsunami. I was interested in the story of course, but I also used it as another opportunity to work on my translation skills. I kept looking back at Vivi or Steph and asking, "did they just say, ...?" But after about an hour or more of the show, Steph's mom decided we'd seen enough. She grabbed the remote and, announcing "trop triste!" (too sad!), changed the channel. Moms - always lookin' out for us. :)

TravLog, Stardate: 01-08-05

3FountAbbey3
Originally uploaded by Epiphany.

~Girls' Day Out with Doc~
Went to L'abbaye du Trois Fontaines (Three Fountains Abbey) - Another Cistercian abbey built around the same time as Fontenay. But this one has not been kept up like Fontenay has, and all that is left is a ruin. It's still quite beautiful, though--rather poetic in its silence. The buildings nearby, which used to house the monks, have now been converted to private residences, and I couldn't help thinking how cool it would be to grow up with the remains of a 12th century abbey to play around in. I was always a bit of an explorer as a child, and I would have had a grand time here. Doc had been here before, and said that she knew when she saw it that I would love it. She was right. Now if she could only figure out where I could get a 12th century cistercian abbey ruin of my own to take home with me.
Afterwards, we went to lunch at an Indian restaurant. It was Saturday, and the restaurant looked to be in a downtown-ish area, so I think it gets pretty good business during the workweek, but today it was pretty much just Doc and I for the whole meal. And did we take our time? yes we did. I do love me some girl talk.
Then we headed to Notre Dame de l'Epine, a basilica that houses a miraculous statue. The story goes that on the night of the assumption in 1400, some shepherds were keeping their flocks by night -like they do- and they saw a light coming from a thornbush. Thinking to themselves, "pourquoi est il y a une light dans le thornbush?" they went to investigate. Turns out there was a statue in there too, and the light was there to mark the spot. The statue is of the Virgin Mary carrying the Baby Jesus in her arms. And thus, a church was founded. Pilgrimages were made, the sick were healed, it was a beautiful thing. So when Doc and I went, she explained to me this story, and told me about the well that is inside the church. It is said that if you pray to Our Lady and drink the water from the well, she'll answer your prayers. Most people pray for love and familial happiness and domestic-type things, so that's what we did. Doc said that when she was here before, she and Vivi drank from the well and prayed, and now Vivi's got a Huzzzband and Doc's got a Chiiile. I wished to find my Grande Amour -- my companion and partner for life and all times. I'll keep you posted.
Heading on Northward (I think), we came to la Ferme de Navarin - the site of battles in WWI where there is now a large monument/ossuary that houses the remains of ten thousand soldiers, mostly unknown, who died on the fields of Champagne between 1914-1918. On the grounds surrounding the monument, you can still see the trenches and holes blasted into the ground from the artillary fire. We were very proud of making the connection between this place and "The Guns of Navaronne" but I have since found that they have nothing to do with each other. -ah well, we're just a coupla girls, anyway.
From there we went to the American monument. Okay, now I've gotta tell you this: we were driving, thought we might be a bit lost, and then I realized I'd taken a picture of the map on the big signboard back at Navarin. So I got out my trusty digital camera, flipped back to the map pic, zoomed wayyyy in, and navigated. You may now tell me that I'm a genius, but of course, being a genius, I already know.
So. American Monument. WE built it. In France. As a monument to Us. ...hmmm... It's really tall and grand looking, and has a great big impressive eagle on it and WE built it. On French soil, as a monument to Ourselves, the Americans. Ah well, I wasn't in on the meetings, so I'll not comment further. But I will tell you that Doc peed on it!!! **look of shock**
Lemme 'splain: We'd been driving around a lot, and had had a lot to drink (WATER. Don't look at me like that), and Doc was feeling a very particular urge. And there comes a point at which the Urge Cannot Be Ignored. So we went to the little building for taking care of such urges, but after 5 on a Saturday in Winter, that little building is closed. And we're out in the middle of nowhere because who wants to build a gas station just beside the American monument, so Doc just decided to go and take care o' bidness instead of fretting about it further. So she's squatting, and she looks around and realizes she's in a Trench. as in Trench Warfare. She's probably not the first to do some bidness in these trenches either, because just about 20 yards away, there's another, parallel trench. Those boys back in the day were that close to one another while waiting for someone in the other trench to stick their head up so they could blow it off. daaaaaang, ya know? just... wow.
So after that sank in for a while, we headed on. On the way to Nico and Christine's house, we drove through the village of Suippe and saw a bunch of people in Band uniforms carrying brass instruments. Not ones to pass up a 'do, we stopped to check it out. It took us a while to figure out what the celebration was, but someone finally told us that it was the beginning of the year concert that they do every year in the village square. "La Clicke" is the slang that the lady taught us. That's what the band was. or it was what they were playing. or it was the name of a concert in a town square. or something. We stayed for a few songs, then made a beeline for N & C's house.
Nico and Christine are two lovelies that I'd met the first time I was here. It was Nico's birthday and they were having a dinner party. Nico is blonde, crazy cute, and has a playfully mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes. Christine is his beautiful dark-eyed and raven-haired counterpart, brilliant with a wry wit. They were both very good at keeping me "in" the conversation, helping me out with the language thang when I got lost. Rounding out the party were Vero and Cedric, Marc, and of course Doc and me. I was lucky in that I got seated in the middle of the table, so I could stay in on the conversations as much as I could. Translating is still not easy, but interestingly enough, it comes easier with a few glasses of wine. Speaking of alkuhawl, after dinner, it was time for "a little something." I forget the exact phrase Nico used when offering me a drink of whatever it was, but well, 'when in Rome,...' so I accepted. That was some kinda likkah. I think I singed my nosehairs trying to get a whiff of it. I have no idea what it was, but it tasted a little like moonshine. Nobody tell my momma I know what moonshine tastes like.