coexistapart's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- numero deux petite dauphin vers nation I made it less than four minutes lying down on my computer last night. I'm not too sure it would have been any different had I had access to the internet because they only thing I "needed" to check is make sure everyone on eBay is satisfied, and to see if my money got transferred. I probably should be vaguely concerned that it's been over 5 days and he said "it'll go out Wednesday," which makes no sense--unless I had asked, as opposed to taking it all in stride, but at this point I can't do anything about it. There seems to be an internet cafe just down the street (this is a stretch of budget hotels for Montmartre in Rochechouart) for 2.50E per hour if I start to feel antsy. Right now I'm just basically trying to restrain myself. Yesterday went very smoothly. Kimberley and I went out to dinner on Wednesday night at a homestyle-Italian restaurant near my hotel (Crestfield) at St. Pancras. Initially she wanted me to go with her towards Victoria, given that the tub line was going to close at 10pm, but I sadly had to pull the I've-been-awake-for-30-plus-hours-&-I'm-waking-up-at-4am-even-though-I'm-here-to-see-you-in-London card. Restaurant was excellent. Very local, very traditional, very ernest. I ordered the salumi platter appetizer; a cheap way to make lots of money on cold cuts, right? given that most restaurants outside of Italy go to the grocer and slice off some export-quality prosciutto? But they had some very nice salami, thick–slab prosciutto, and even non-gross mortadella that were done very well, even if they were not done on-site. They were all very thick and fatty and chewy, without being dry. Delicious. Then I had veal vesuviana, which was presented as these tiny little schnitzel medallions with what tasted like fresh, homemade (or at least superior) mozarella cheese and a very flavourful tomoto sauce. And roasted potatos. That part seemed weird, but actually lent me to think that it was a more traditional way of serving meat. Pasta is it's own course in Italy, so what else are you going to serve with meat? Kimberley had some nice firm looking fusili, and then I had turtuffo for dessert and she had some lemon-cream parfait that looked like what most Americans serve as jello with whipped cream, though clearly it was something more refined with limoncello and custard. Etc. Woke up at 3:15am ish. I hadn't been asleep long, but I also kept waking up every hour not "beliving" the time on my clock; time change and stress about oversleeping will do that to you. Got up and did some things on the computer and then went to St. Pancras (pronounced like the internal organ) around 4:30am. I took the Eurostar to Paris. My ticket was $65 for a regular, second class seat. I was very impressed by the smooth security lineup and passport control; because I am non-EU they DID stamp my passport! That was exciting! Hopefully they will do the same thing coming back into the UK so I will feel like I do have SOME creditability. I was also really impressed by the waiting area under the tracks. It appears relatively small (2-3 high school gyms maybe?) but it was really efficient with these branching benches that were backless so people could sit down with their bags on either side in them middle of the room. There was also this Google map function on a large tv that was showing the sites of the great cities of Europe that Eurostar services. The train ride itself was very smooth. As I thought it was pitch dark out, so you couldn't see a thing...which was unfortunately. I finished reading my book, The Overarchievers. More on that when I'm, like, not visiting a gorgeous European city. Taking the train was so.freaking.easy I finally understand why most people after college use it for this typical "grand" tour of Europe to get around. Without intending it this way at all, Gare du Nord is essentially in Montmartre. You exit on a side street, walk up avenue Magenta, and then turn left on Rochechouart. I dropped my bags (it was only 9:30am at this point) at the hotel and just mosied on over to Sacre Coeur. Five minutes and BOOM! it was right there. Now I've never actually been to Sacre Coeur before. When my mother and I used to travel, she would have very specific lists of things that she had to see during our short 4-5 days in some European city. These usually consisted of museums, which--in my mind--waste a lot of time unless you are devoted. When you bookend that with an opera or theatre tickets, and a woman who must sit down for a low-cal fruit breakfast, and a Frommers five start dinner, you're not left with a huge amount of time in between. I remember going to EuroDisney one day, and then the Louvre being closed the next. (I take full responsibility for knowing that the Louvre would be closed on a Monday and insisting that we go to Eurodisney on Sunday and not the other way around.) And we went up the Eiffel Tower, l’Arc de Triomphe, we saw the movie Prince of Egypt at a cinema on the Champs elysee. There were guys selling roasted chestnuts and hand-held crepes in the square outside of Notre Dame, and we vaguely looked around in the Tuilleries, but beyond that I really don't remember doing all too much. The amount that I *used* to think my mother would walk in a day (and, ergo, make me walk) pales to what I typically do in a day. Anyway, I digress. So yesterday I went to Sacre Coeur because 1) it was so close to where I was staying, and 2) because 10 years ago when we came to Paris I think that was the one non-traditional (B list?) out-of-the-way monument I wanted to see, possibly along with the aqueduct. It was very nice to just walk one block north of Rouchechouart to look up and just see it there, between the houses. It's very nice. It was very impressive. It's such an unusual shape for a cathedral. I have to look up it's style, but it's just beautiful. The grounds have these wide sloping avenues to walk up the hill. The view was very impressive, albeit pretty bad when I first got there around 10am between smog and rain clouds. The church is nice, the two security guards near the prayer pews manage to keep it impressively quiet...so much so that I stayed for about an hour, and then stayed for the mass and adoration. Two nuns helped with Communion: one played a table-top harpsichord and the other led the hymns. The acoustics were so incredible that the priest had to talk relatively slowly so the echo did not talk over him. He told of the story about the man who will be righteous enough to open the scroll with the seven seals, from John in preparation for Advent which is obviously right around the corner. Not that it means anything, but with my B.A. in religion it IS nice to know what's being talked about once the reading is read and before the lesson. They had the most amazing shrine to Jesus made out of hammered pewter? Amazing in that it was such an unusual metal, and so hammered that it looked very life-like, and just very beautiful...positively glowing. Being at church reminded me of my mother's token religiosity, how it seemed that only when we traveled, when there was a famous church with beautiful art and a name she could drop, did SHE want to go to church.By the time I got out of Sacre Coeur it was lunchtime. I went back to the first brasserie I had seen coming out of the gare that looked like the quintessential Paris bistro: tented in smoking area, plastic wicker seating with the cafe name. What I didn't realize was that it was so "traditional" they only had two daily lunch options, and that you have to ask for the menu if you want something like deviled eggs or pounded steak. I had a pork tenderloin with mashed potatoes and brown gravy with French bread. And orange juice, because when I tried to asked for Orangeade--which someone out on the sidewalk did have—I became really embarrassed. To be fair, those were the first compound sentences in French that I had spoken in YEARS...since moving to Toronto. It was a nice lunch, the food was good and the potatoes truly divine, but I just felt a little sad that it wasn'’t more "French" like a croque monsieur or coq au vin or quiche or whatever. Which is silly because this popular restaurant across from the hospital, with the waiter asking me 10 times if I'm sure I don't want wine, and the people across from me drinking pastis, and others chain smoking out on the portico, IS normal French food, local, just not what we imagine. From there I walked south to see how far I could get. These tourist maps are always inaccurate--or nobody walks the amount that I do--because I made it from the 18e arondissment to the Champs Elysee with no problems. I did not go there directly; I walked through les Halles--where there are many great, inexpensive cafes for me to try today--towards l’Opera, avenue des Capucins/Italiens, over to la place de la Madeleine, which connects to the crazy cluster that is place de la Concorde. Avenue des capucines (Cappucinos) is the first of the shopping areas you hit, with lots of smallish boutique brands like Alaia. Place de la Madeleine is, in name, supposed to be high end, but the square is so wide open and touristy that the real designer brands are on the tiny street that connect place de la Madeleine with place de la Concorde, such as villeroy & Boche, Christofle, Lalique, Laduree, Maison de Maille. Place de la Madeleine really has nice-looking, non-French restaurants that I imagine are frequented for 2-hour billed business lunches by all heavy-hitting embassies and consulates in the area (U.S., U.K) There is Fauchon and Hediard, which are lovely, but they have come so far beyond being anywhere that you could buy any food that you need for a romantic picnic that they're just about macaroons and seasonal tea blends for tourists to take back home for their friends. Place de la Concorde is as I remembered it: ferris wheel, obelisk traded with the Egyptians for a Louis XIV/VI gilded clock that didn't work for more than a week, the edges of the Tuilleries, the gilded church, the Champs, and so so much traffic. It's so sad. I took some wide-angle shots to show Big and his mother, stuff that I'll never print out to use but just to give you a sense of what it's really like, and it's just island after island after island for pedestrians to cross and wait between 4 lanes of traffic. By this point I was exhausted; even though I was being dorky wearing my running shoes, I was having tremendous back and shoulder pain. I stopped and had a cafe au lait, but then decided to do another circuit for photos. The miserable clouds of the day were turning into a grey, cloudy night that is easier to photograph than pitch black. And because I got everything on the place de la Concorde photographed well, and then I did decided to go up and do l’arc de Triomphe. Next I managed to drag myself down to the Eiffel Tower and waited the 45 minutes for it to sparkle on the hour, and then dragged myself home--not before scavenging a sandwich (deep fried deli-sliced chicken, anyone?) and a calling card. That was yesterday. Now I've just slept 12 hours and need to get a move on, even though it's a rainy day. 8:04 a.m. - 2008-11-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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