L'Isle-sur-le-Sorgue/ September in Paris
Saturday, September 9, 2006
Today, after breakfast and a rest, Henri and I drove to a mall in Avignon (drove on highway A7, the toll road, from Cavaillon) to go to the France Telecom store for a new filter for the DSL line because the Livebox was flashing red. Then we shopped for groceries in a huge supermarket, Auchan. It must be like what a super Walmart is, although I've never been in one, because there were rows and rows of clothing and other things to buy before we got to the food, and that was big too. A whole section of fish and shellfish, skinned packaged rabbit, meats, sausages, one thing after another, and samples to taste, like at Costco. Tasted purple grapes and a piece of ham and another of sausage. Henri bought andouille (dry like a salami, not wet like the one I ate at Le Lezard my first night in St. Remy) and mussels in cream sauce, with fresh gnocchi in a package to go with it. Some pate (a slice). A kind of cole slaw and some shredded carrot salad. I can't remember if there was anything else. Then we stopped at a roadside fruit stand on the way home for lettuce (I think he called it romaine, but it looked different from what I know as romaine) and green plums. While Henri waited in line, I went over to a fragrant tree and took a few photos of the flowers. Another stop at a very classy newer and bigger boulangerie than the little ones I saw in town, for a seeded baguette and a little half loaf of bread with olives in it.
As it turned out, the filter wasn't the problem with the DSL, after we drove 50 kilometers for it, it's the telephone line and they'll send someone out on Monday, which is after we've gone to Paris. So my hopes for a chance to use the internet for this weekend are dashed, and Henri can't work on his presentation for Tuesday to a conference on marketing.
As we sat on the terrace, I saw two lizards (or geckos?) climbing on the wall of the house. Henri said they're George and W. there was one in his bathroom upstairs that he put outside.
I thought he had said that we were going to the antique market in L'Isle-sur-le- Sorgue. The market we went to was a farmer's market, not an antique market. There are many antique shops in the town, but they were closed and we only drove by them on the way out of town. Thinking about it later, Henri wouldn't have much use for antiques, because he designs his own modern furniture and his art is modern as well, especially the cartoons. The farmer's market started at 6pm and the gates were closed till then, with shoppers gathered around the gates until the signal was given (was it a whistle?) to open for business. When I asked him, Henri thought that the market was in the evening so that the food that was harvested that day could be sold at its freshest. Some people come with wheeled baskets, even a woven wicker hamper on wheels. Henri carried a large shopping bag/tote. At this market fruit was sold by pre-measured boxes or basket, e.g. one kilogram, so no weighing went on there. It was one long aisle of sellers on both sides, and I was glad that I took my hat because there was no overhead shelter from the sun. although it was late afternoon already, the sun was warm.
Lots of fruit and some vegetables for sale, e.g. black figs, dark purple grapes, plums in two or three colors (green and purple), strawberries and Cavaillon melons. Some vendors offered small taste samples. There were also several vendors of jams and jellies, and just one, I think, of olive oil. Lettuce of various kinds was there, too and fenouil (fennel), carrots, beans, coco—some kind of bean—in white pods and reddish pods. Henri said there were far fewer people there than in August, when the tourists come, and I was glad because there were still plenty of bodies milling around. A few people had dogs, but not as many as at the St. Remy market.
Henri stopped to talk to a few vendors as he made his purchases, and chatted with the lady who sold jams about her recipe, how much sugar went into each pot (600 grams). Also that she didn't have any grape jelly because there had been a hail storm that injured the grapes. I think he was gathering information for when he next makes his own jam.
We had parked near the end of the market and walked ahead to the entrance gate. This was good planning, since then we were at the car when we had a heavy bag of purchases.
According to the Lonely Planet, this town is a
As we drove out of town, Henri pointed out two old millwheels on the stream that ran through town. Then we went to visit Dominique and Serge, old friends of Henri's who run a chambre d'hote or bed and breakfast, although Henri keeps saying it's more high class than a B&B. The grounds around their house are lovely. They have three dogs of varying sizes, the middle one being a female beagle who is very affectionate now. Dominique said she only has had her for five months, having taken her in because she had been abused and didn't intend, at the beginning to keep her. Thoughts of my poor dearly departed Biko intrude into my mind as I recall what Dominique told me about the largest white dog being shot by a mean neighbor and his need to have surgery because the bones in his shoulder were shattered. I had noticed that he limped a little. I never heard his or the beagle's names, but the smallest dog is called Jaloux, or Jealous.
Before finding out all this about the dogs, we sat on the terrace sipping pastis (my choice) and crunching on tortilla chips, chatting in French with me listening. Henri told about his adventure with the police breathalyzer the previous night. I could understand that, perhaps because I knew what happened. Serge told some story about a divorce, which Henri explained in English to me, I think about some people who had rented rooms from them. Henri leafed through Le Monde and the special magazine section, which was about New York, including an article on the upcoming 5th anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers. The dogs were running around playing. At one point, big white dog tried mounting beagle and she ran away from him. Henri said, what's the matter, is she a lesbian?
After a while, as the sky grew darker, Henri asked to use their computer to check his email and, I thought, to look up something for his preparation for his presentation. Dominique and I watched the news on TV. Something about French peacekeepers landing in Lebanon. Something about a demonstration by immigrants, for housing I think. Something about the anniversary of 9/11. and, in interview with Meryl Streep on the occasion of her visit to Deaux about her movie "The Devil Wears Prada," which I guess I'll have to see. This was when Dominique mentioned that she used to work in the fashion industry and it was like exactly like in the book. I don't know if she'd seen the movie yet. Meryl Streep wasn't able to do the interview in French—she had an earpiece for her to listen to the not-quite-simultaneous translation. There was always a pause as she listened to the end of it. Then, as I tried to listen to her response in English, the French over-dub would cut in. It was sort of insipid, with her saying something about wanting to portray that kind of character. Once again I heard the comment from Dominique or Serge that she's in her 50's, maybe 55 years old.
When Henri finished with the computer, he announced that we would stay for a quick supper after all. It was omelette with cepes (a kind of mushroom, translated as cepes in Lonely Planet, but the large ones reminding me of portobellos. We had both red and rose wines, and bread, of course. Salad eaten after the omelette, just lettuce (which Henri had bought at the farmer's market) but with a delicious dressing. Camembert and more bread, one which had been heated in the oven until the crust was crisp. Then we said our goodbyes and left. On the way home, Henri said that he lived next door to Serge for a long time, sharing a wall, for 30 years. Serge had several jobs, the last one was a lab for developing photographic prints for large companies, e.g. ads. The drive back was once again along D99, with the trees lining the road. I noticed as we passed La Galine restaurant along the road that it was lit with colored lights and a number of people were seated at the tables. When we went through St. Remy, a lot of people were in the restaurants, especially Bistro des Alpilles—a busy Saturday night. The horse's head decoration hanging above the street was lighted—very festive. Didn't pass where the cow was, but that was probably lighted, too.
September 10, 2006
My last day in St. Remy. In the afternoon, we went into town. Henri wanted to stop at the frame shop, but it was closed. After all, it was lunchtime, but there was no sign about when it would reopen. Today was the day of the art fair, so we walked around the periferico (the circle street), looking at the various booths with their works of art. In many ways similar to any art fair here, with a variety of quality, but the ambience was more interesting than a mall or the state fair grounds in Albuquerque. After we got most of the way around, Henri stopped in a women's clothing store to talk to some friends of his. Once again, I recognized the story of the problems with the DSL line, and the story about the restaurant and the gendarme stopping the car for a breath test. Then they started talking about other things, and it was too hard for me to follow and I lost interest. Looked around the shop for a while. They had some interesting decorated tennis shoes that were on sale for the end of the season, but even at the sale price, they didn't seem a great bargain to me. Other interesting dodads, jewelry, scarves, etc. Then Henri went next door to another shop with the owner who had been visiting in the first shop. It was an even more elegant women's clothing store. He gave her some tips on window presentation, and about putting the manikin in the doorway more out in front of the shop so it could be see more easily. Most of the clothes were browns and beiges, not my color palette, and probably in sizes too small for me. We walked to where the car was parked and then drove past the frame shop again, which was open this time, so we parked and went in. Turns out H. was picking up some prints by one of his favorite artists, that he had framed, one for himself, and one for Timothee's bedroom.
After we returned to the house, we started preparing to leave that evening, bringing in the furniture from the terrace, closing the shutters, taking out the garbage, taking the fruit and veggies out of the fridge and putting them in bags to take with us to Paris. We didn't have any supper before heading to the TGV station in Avignon in Patrice's cab, so I stashed a few snacks in my bag.
The TGV is the high speed train that takes about 2 ½ hours to go from Avignon in the south to Gare Lyon in Paris. I was hoping that by traveling with Henri, he'd be able to handle my suitcases, but on the way he told me that he had had back surgery and wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy, so I had to struggle and depend on the kindness of strangers. Things was, Henri also didn't seem to realize that because he's so much taller than me, even without two suitcases, I have a hard time keeping up with him at his normal stride. The train was about 15 minutes late, so there was no problem about getting to the platform on time. No sign of any porters to help with baggage. I guess the French are a hardy lot and anybody that's old, handicapped, or clumsy isn't expected to be traveling. That wasn't true in the Montpelier train station, so I guess it varies from place to place, and I didn't really have a chance to ask for porter service in Avignon because I was struggling to keep up. Once the train started going at high speed (after wrestling my bags down the narrow aisle to my seat – luckily we were on the lower level of the doubledecker car), I found out that it was physically a little like flying in a plane. That is, my ears popped, and I had a sinus headache and a bit of nausea most of the way, which I assumed was from the pressure of going at high speed. Tried to keep my eyes closed and meditate, just so I might feel better, so I didn't get much reading done, just a few pages in the newspaper that I still had. Also, didn't attempt to eat my snacks, although I observed other passengers had boarded with bags of fast food and drinks in paper cups.
Once we got to Paris, we went to the parking garage where Henri had his Volvo parked. It was a modern clean garage with a slick polished floor. I don't know what the finish was. It almost looked like some kind of vinyl coating. It was already late, and then a long drive to where Henri's apartment is in the 17th arondissement. Turns out that it's in a building without an elevator, so I still had to struggle to get the suitcases up one floor. Henri referred to them as dead elephants, because of the weight. I got to stay in Timothee's room (since he was at his mother's home), with a window facing the street. You can see some photos taken of the apartment, and the view of the building across the street, once I get the slides scanned. So, with a little bread and cheese to tide me over till breakfast, while Henri started working on his presentation again, I hit the sack.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The day hasn't started out well. Before he left for the office, Henri told me that Timothee will be here at 10am with the keys to the apartment. I was feeling a little like an orphan because there wasn't a set of keys for me and without them I'd have to leave at 11:00 when the cleaning woman left. Henri didn't want me to take her keys. Then, he wouldn't be back until 7pm, so I'd have to amuse myself until then. I had directions to the metro station and that was all. No maps, no guidebooks. Part of that was my fault for not being prepared, but Henri was incredulous that I didn't have a map. He didn't know where to get one because he doesn't need one, but thought that the newspaper stand near the metro might have one.
So, I got up at 9:30 to have some breakfast and to wait for Tim. Meanwhile the cleaning woman had the radio on and told me that another plane has crashed into a building in the U.S., today being the anniversary of the WTC disaster. So far we don't have any more info. Tim didn't arrive until 11 with his buddy, Lucas, carrying bags with sandwiches and fries. I asked Tim to help me with the cell phone and he listened to the messages which had been left for me by SFR, the phone company. It was then I found out that I left my passport at the SFR office in Bordeaux—I hadn't been able to listen to the messages before and besides they were in French. I thought they were just welcome messages so I wasn't worried. I should have asked Nicole to help me when I was in Marseille, but it didn't occur to me since I wasn't able to use the phone in St. Remy, anyway.
Tim called Henri, who was able to find the phone number of the SFT office where I bought the card (with the help of his secretary Silvia), and arranged for him to express my passport to his office, maybe tomorrow.
During all this, Tim and Lucas are in front of the plasma screen, playing a video game with fancy guns, etc. Now I understand more why he's so interested in guns (replicas) that I saw at the house in St. Remy. There's no TV in the house, so I can't watch to see what's happening. The plasma screen is just for games and movies.
The boys have to leave for school again around 1pm. I'll have Timothee give me directions to the Musee D'Orsay and I'll wander around for a while. I'm not feeling very good, a little queasy or shaky, and tired. Didn't get into bed last night until 1:45am. I'm also feeling anxious about navigating on my own in Paris, which is a bigger city than I've had to navigate for a long time. It too us about 45 minutes to drive here from the Gare de Lyon last night when we got off the TGV. Henri's car in Paris is a Volvo, with a fancy dashboard/cockpit. It looked like he had a phone built into it. Fancy radio, too. Wonder if it was a satellite radio.
I hope I can find an internet place some time today. I was thinking I'd have access thru Henri's computer, but of course, he takes his laptop to work with him, and last night he was still working on his presentation for tomorrow. I don't know when the news will be in the papers—maybe this PM in the French papers. Also have to find an ATM machine to get more cash, to pay Henri for my train ticket, about 91.50 euros, and to not run out of cash wile I'm here, although I suppose I could use my credit card more often. My god, the noise from the game the boys are playing! Violent and disturbing.
later...
This was an exhausting day. I hope I can pace myself better tomorrow. I got to the Musee D'Orsay okay, but found out that it was indeed closed on Mondays (Which later Henri said was unusual ecause most museums are closed on Tuesday, meaning I might have trouble tomorrow going somewhere else). There were others who came up to the door around the same time who were disappointed as well. Among them was an Indian couple from near Detroit and I started talking to them about subway maps, etc. Then I asked if I could tag along with them as they went to Hotel Les Invalides, where Napoleon’s tomb is, and they said yes, so I started to learn the subway system again. in wasn’t so interested in that place, having been there before and been less than delighted with it, but it gave me a place to start. I got a 3-day Metro pass—should I have gotten the 5-day? Who knows? In any ncase, there’s no 4-day pass but maybe I can get a one-day pass for Thursday if I need it. Decisions, decisions.
So, we saw Napoleon’s tomb with the aid of an audio-guide which I couldn’t follow, having walked too far into the area before listening to the description outside. It was free with the ticked to no sweat (7.50 euros, no senior reduction). Then we had some refreshment in the cafeteria, so I could finally at 4pm get some lunch—a Pepsi and a ham & cheese sandwich for 6 euros. I had already eaten the rest of the energy bar in my tote bag. Should look to see if I have another one with me, just in case. This irregular
Eating schedule isn’t good for me, I’m sure. Then, we went to the exhibit about the two world wars, which was quit3e large starting with a French defeat by Germany in 1871, and the fall of the Paris Commune. A lot of guns, uniforms, movie clips with English subtitles, posters, photos, miniature tanks, gun turrets, etc. it was on 3 floors of the museum. I was ready to crash by the end. We came out the museum at the side opposite of where we had entered and it looked like the side I had been on when I was there in I 1989—I was looking for the café we what coffee at last time. Walked to the nearest subway. I successfully navigated the change at Opera station and got off at Pereire, which I thought might be closer to the apartment, but when I got out of the station, I walked the wrong way around the circle—I really needed a compass, which wasn’t on my packing list. Maybe a GPS gadget. I’ll have to add it for next time—and had to ask at a pharmacie for the right directions. It’s really hard to read the mapn and always need my glasses. I had asked for help from a woman on the street but she didn’t have her glasses with her and we couldn’t do it with one pair still, I got back at 7pm and had time to rest before Henri arrived about 7:40. I was just wondering if I should try to call him when he walked in.
A little after Henri arrived, and looked on his Mac laptop (white) for news, Elizabeth arrived, and got dinner together. We had mousse de foie gras for appetizer, on bread of course, and the rest of the faux crab salad. Then a leftover roasted chicken heated in a bag in the microwave. Red wine and water to drink. Grated carrot salad and some rhubarb that Henri had cooked (from his garden) for dessert, along wi8th plums and grapes we brought from St. Remy. Later, before bed, we had tisane, which I think is herbal tea, meant to look it up. Henri worked on his computer and Elizabeth and I read.
September 12, 2006, Paris
This will be a short entry; at least until I get home and have a chance to update this on my own computer. I have to get to bed soon so I'll have enough energy tomorrow to be a tourist again. This is the first time I've been in Paris in the last 15 years, and I've gotten so used to the laid back ways of Albuquerque; but my big city skills are re-surfacing. Things like reading a subway map or a bus map. There's a lot to do here, and how to choose without running myself ragged? Some things are bringing up memories of the last time I was here; with Mary and Richard, when they got married. I got myself a metro pass, but it was easier this time; just request it at a ticket window. Last time I had to go to a railroad station where they have those photo machines, and submit a photo of myself for the pass. Today I went to the Musee D'Orsay. Started with an exhbit on the history of photography, then to the exhibit about Rodin and his friendship with the painter Carriére. They often created works on the same subject. Of course I couolldn't skip the Impressionists, and that kept me busy until the museum closed at 5:30, so I was there for four hours! I was plenty tired and my arthritis was acting up as well. Tomorrow, Montmartre
Today, after breakfast and a rest, Henri and I drove to a mall in Avignon (drove on highway A7, the toll road, from Cavaillon) to go to the France Telecom store for a new filter for the DSL line because the Livebox was flashing red. Then we shopped for groceries in a huge supermarket, Auchan. It must be like what a super Walmart is, although I've never been in one, because there were rows and rows of clothing and other things to buy before we got to the food, and that was big too. A whole section of fish and shellfish, skinned packaged rabbit, meats, sausages, one thing after another, and samples to taste, like at Costco. Tasted purple grapes and a piece of ham and another of sausage. Henri bought andouille (dry like a salami, not wet like the one I ate at Le Lezard my first night in St. Remy) and mussels in cream sauce, with fresh gnocchi in a package to go with it. Some pate (a slice). A kind of cole slaw and some shredded carrot salad. I can't remember if there was anything else. Then we stopped at a roadside fruit stand on the way home for lettuce (I think he called it romaine, but it looked different from what I know as romaine) and green plums. While Henri waited in line, I went over to a fragrant tree and took a few photos of the flowers. Another stop at a very classy newer and bigger boulangerie than the little ones I saw in town, for a seeded baguette and a little half loaf of bread with olives in it.
As it turned out, the filter wasn't the problem with the DSL, after we drove 50 kilometers for it, it's the telephone line and they'll send someone out on Monday, which is after we've gone to Paris. So my hopes for a chance to use the internet for this weekend are dashed, and Henri can't work on his presentation for Tuesday to a conference on marketing.
As we sat on the terrace, I saw two lizards (or geckos?) climbing on the wall of the house. Henri said they're George and W. there was one in his bathroom upstairs that he put outside.
I thought he had said that we were going to the antique market in L'Isle-sur-le- Sorgue. The market we went to was a farmer's market, not an antique market. There are many antique shops in the town, but they were closed and we only drove by them on the way out of town. Thinking about it later, Henri wouldn't have much use for antiques, because he designs his own modern furniture and his art is modern as well, especially the cartoons. The farmer's market started at 6pm and the gates were closed till then, with shoppers gathered around the gates until the signal was given (was it a whistle?) to open for business. When I asked him, Henri thought that the market was in the evening so that the food that was harvested that day could be sold at its freshest. Some people come with wheeled baskets, even a woven wicker hamper on wheels. Henri carried a large shopping bag/tote. At this market fruit was sold by pre-measured boxes or basket, e.g. one kilogram, so no weighing went on there. It was one long aisle of sellers on both sides, and I was glad that I took my hat because there was no overhead shelter from the sun. although it was late afternoon already, the sun was warm.
Lots of fruit and some vegetables for sale, e.g. black figs, dark purple grapes, plums in two or three colors (green and purple), strawberries and Cavaillon melons. Some vendors offered small taste samples. There were also several vendors of jams and jellies, and just one, I think, of olive oil. Lettuce of various kinds was there, too and fenouil (fennel), carrots, beans, coco—some kind of bean—in white pods and reddish pods. Henri said there were far fewer people there than in August, when the tourists come, and I was glad because there were still plenty of bodies milling around. A few people had dogs, but not as many as at the St. Remy market.
Henri stopped to talk to a few vendors as he made his purchases, and chatted with the lady who sold jams about her recipe, how much sugar went into each pot (600 grams). Also that she didn't have any grape jelly because there had been a hail storm that injured the grapes. I think he was gathering information for when he next makes his own jam.
We had parked near the end of the market and walked ahead to the entrance gate. This was good planning, since then we were at the car when we had a heavy bag of purchases.
According to the Lonely Planet, this town is a
chic spot known for its antique shops and graceful waterways. L'Isle dates from the 12th century when villagers built huts on stilts above what was then a swampy marshland. By the 18th century it was a thriving silk-weaving centre surrounded by canals ploughed by water wheels powering its paper mills an silk factories.
On Sunday morning its quays are swamped with book and antique sellers and a gaggle of market stalls selling other wares. Le Quai de la Gare,…near the train station, houses 35 antique dealers, and another 100 deal in Le village des Antiquaires,…an antique shopping mall fronted by an 18th-centuray mill. Don't expect any bargains
As we drove out of town, Henri pointed out two old millwheels on the stream that ran through town. Then we went to visit Dominique and Serge, old friends of Henri's who run a chambre d'hote or bed and breakfast, although Henri keeps saying it's more high class than a B&B. The grounds around their house are lovely. They have three dogs of varying sizes, the middle one being a female beagle who is very affectionate now. Dominique said she only has had her for five months, having taken her in because she had been abused and didn't intend, at the beginning to keep her. Thoughts of my poor dearly departed Biko intrude into my mind as I recall what Dominique told me about the largest white dog being shot by a mean neighbor and his need to have surgery because the bones in his shoulder were shattered. I had noticed that he limped a little. I never heard his or the beagle's names, but the smallest dog is called Jaloux, or Jealous.
Before finding out all this about the dogs, we sat on the terrace sipping pastis (my choice) and crunching on tortilla chips, chatting in French with me listening. Henri told about his adventure with the police breathalyzer the previous night. I could understand that, perhaps because I knew what happened. Serge told some story about a divorce, which Henri explained in English to me, I think about some people who had rented rooms from them. Henri leafed through Le Monde and the special magazine section, which was about New York, including an article on the upcoming 5th anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers. The dogs were running around playing. At one point, big white dog tried mounting beagle and she ran away from him. Henri said, what's the matter, is she a lesbian?
After a while, as the sky grew darker, Henri asked to use their computer to check his email and, I thought, to look up something for his preparation for his presentation. Dominique and I watched the news on TV. Something about French peacekeepers landing in Lebanon. Something about a demonstration by immigrants, for housing I think. Something about the anniversary of 9/11. and, in interview with Meryl Streep on the occasion of her visit to Deaux about her movie "The Devil Wears Prada," which I guess I'll have to see. This was when Dominique mentioned that she used to work in the fashion industry and it was like exactly like in the book. I don't know if she'd seen the movie yet. Meryl Streep wasn't able to do the interview in French—she had an earpiece for her to listen to the not-quite-simultaneous translation. There was always a pause as she listened to the end of it. Then, as I tried to listen to her response in English, the French over-dub would cut in. It was sort of insipid, with her saying something about wanting to portray that kind of character. Once again I heard the comment from Dominique or Serge that she's in her 50's, maybe 55 years old.
When Henri finished with the computer, he announced that we would stay for a quick supper after all. It was omelette with cepes (a kind of mushroom, translated as cepes in Lonely Planet, but the large ones reminding me of portobellos. We had both red and rose wines, and bread, of course. Salad eaten after the omelette, just lettuce (which Henri had bought at the farmer's market) but with a delicious dressing. Camembert and more bread, one which had been heated in the oven until the crust was crisp. Then we said our goodbyes and left. On the way home, Henri said that he lived next door to Serge for a long time, sharing a wall, for 30 years. Serge had several jobs, the last one was a lab for developing photographic prints for large companies, e.g. ads. The drive back was once again along D99, with the trees lining the road. I noticed as we passed La Galine restaurant along the road that it was lit with colored lights and a number of people were seated at the tables. When we went through St. Remy, a lot of people were in the restaurants, especially Bistro des Alpilles—a busy Saturday night. The horse's head decoration hanging above the street was lighted—very festive. Didn't pass where the cow was, but that was probably lighted, too.
September 10, 2006
My last day in St. Remy. In the afternoon, we went into town. Henri wanted to stop at the frame shop, but it was closed. After all, it was lunchtime, but there was no sign about when it would reopen. Today was the day of the art fair, so we walked around the periferico (the circle street), looking at the various booths with their works of art. In many ways similar to any art fair here, with a variety of quality, but the ambience was more interesting than a mall or the state fair grounds in Albuquerque. After we got most of the way around, Henri stopped in a women's clothing store to talk to some friends of his. Once again, I recognized the story of the problems with the DSL line, and the story about the restaurant and the gendarme stopping the car for a breath test. Then they started talking about other things, and it was too hard for me to follow and I lost interest. Looked around the shop for a while. They had some interesting decorated tennis shoes that were on sale for the end of the season, but even at the sale price, they didn't seem a great bargain to me. Other interesting dodads, jewelry, scarves, etc. Then Henri went next door to another shop with the owner who had been visiting in the first shop. It was an even more elegant women's clothing store. He gave her some tips on window presentation, and about putting the manikin in the doorway more out in front of the shop so it could be see more easily. Most of the clothes were browns and beiges, not my color palette, and probably in sizes too small for me. We walked to where the car was parked and then drove past the frame shop again, which was open this time, so we parked and went in. Turns out H. was picking up some prints by one of his favorite artists, that he had framed, one for himself, and one for Timothee's bedroom.
After we returned to the house, we started preparing to leave that evening, bringing in the furniture from the terrace, closing the shutters, taking out the garbage, taking the fruit and veggies out of the fridge and putting them in bags to take with us to Paris. We didn't have any supper before heading to the TGV station in Avignon in Patrice's cab, so I stashed a few snacks in my bag.
The TGV is the high speed train that takes about 2 ½ hours to go from Avignon in the south to Gare Lyon in Paris. I was hoping that by traveling with Henri, he'd be able to handle my suitcases, but on the way he told me that he had had back surgery and wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy, so I had to struggle and depend on the kindness of strangers. Things was, Henri also didn't seem to realize that because he's so much taller than me, even without two suitcases, I have a hard time keeping up with him at his normal stride. The train was about 15 minutes late, so there was no problem about getting to the platform on time. No sign of any porters to help with baggage. I guess the French are a hardy lot and anybody that's old, handicapped, or clumsy isn't expected to be traveling. That wasn't true in the Montpelier train station, so I guess it varies from place to place, and I didn't really have a chance to ask for porter service in Avignon because I was struggling to keep up. Once the train started going at high speed (after wrestling my bags down the narrow aisle to my seat – luckily we were on the lower level of the doubledecker car), I found out that it was physically a little like flying in a plane. That is, my ears popped, and I had a sinus headache and a bit of nausea most of the way, which I assumed was from the pressure of going at high speed. Tried to keep my eyes closed and meditate, just so I might feel better, so I didn't get much reading done, just a few pages in the newspaper that I still had. Also, didn't attempt to eat my snacks, although I observed other passengers had boarded with bags of fast food and drinks in paper cups.
Once we got to Paris, we went to the parking garage where Henri had his Volvo parked. It was a modern clean garage with a slick polished floor. I don't know what the finish was. It almost looked like some kind of vinyl coating. It was already late, and then a long drive to where Henri's apartment is in the 17th arondissement. Turns out that it's in a building without an elevator, so I still had to struggle to get the suitcases up one floor. Henri referred to them as dead elephants, because of the weight. I got to stay in Timothee's room (since he was at his mother's home), with a window facing the street. You can see some photos taken of the apartment, and the view of the building across the street, once I get the slides scanned. So, with a little bread and cheese to tide me over till breakfast, while Henri started working on his presentation again, I hit the sack.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The day hasn't started out well. Before he left for the office, Henri told me that Timothee will be here at 10am with the keys to the apartment. I was feeling a little like an orphan because there wasn't a set of keys for me and without them I'd have to leave at 11:00 when the cleaning woman left. Henri didn't want me to take her keys. Then, he wouldn't be back until 7pm, so I'd have to amuse myself until then. I had directions to the metro station and that was all. No maps, no guidebooks. Part of that was my fault for not being prepared, but Henri was incredulous that I didn't have a map. He didn't know where to get one because he doesn't need one, but thought that the newspaper stand near the metro might have one.
So, I got up at 9:30 to have some breakfast and to wait for Tim. Meanwhile the cleaning woman had the radio on and told me that another plane has crashed into a building in the U.S., today being the anniversary of the WTC disaster. So far we don't have any more info. Tim didn't arrive until 11 with his buddy, Lucas, carrying bags with sandwiches and fries. I asked Tim to help me with the cell phone and he listened to the messages which had been left for me by SFR, the phone company. It was then I found out that I left my passport at the SFR office in Bordeaux—I hadn't been able to listen to the messages before and besides they were in French. I thought they were just welcome messages so I wasn't worried. I should have asked Nicole to help me when I was in Marseille, but it didn't occur to me since I wasn't able to use the phone in St. Remy, anyway.
Tim called Henri, who was able to find the phone number of the SFT office where I bought the card (with the help of his secretary Silvia), and arranged for him to express my passport to his office, maybe tomorrow.
During all this, Tim and Lucas are in front of the plasma screen, playing a video game with fancy guns, etc. Now I understand more why he's so interested in guns (replicas) that I saw at the house in St. Remy. There's no TV in the house, so I can't watch to see what's happening. The plasma screen is just for games and movies.
The boys have to leave for school again around 1pm. I'll have Timothee give me directions to the Musee D'Orsay and I'll wander around for a while. I'm not feeling very good, a little queasy or shaky, and tired. Didn't get into bed last night until 1:45am. I'm also feeling anxious about navigating on my own in Paris, which is a bigger city than I've had to navigate for a long time. It too us about 45 minutes to drive here from the Gare de Lyon last night when we got off the TGV. Henri's car in Paris is a Volvo, with a fancy dashboard/cockpit. It looked like he had a phone built into it. Fancy radio, too. Wonder if it was a satellite radio.
I hope I can find an internet place some time today. I was thinking I'd have access thru Henri's computer, but of course, he takes his laptop to work with him, and last night he was still working on his presentation for tomorrow. I don't know when the news will be in the papers—maybe this PM in the French papers. Also have to find an ATM machine to get more cash, to pay Henri for my train ticket, about 91.50 euros, and to not run out of cash wile I'm here, although I suppose I could use my credit card more often. My god, the noise from the game the boys are playing! Violent and disturbing.
later...
This was an exhausting day. I hope I can pace myself better tomorrow. I got to the Musee D'Orsay okay, but found out that it was indeed closed on Mondays (Which later Henri said was unusual ecause most museums are closed on Tuesday, meaning I might have trouble tomorrow going somewhere else). There were others who came up to the door around the same time who were disappointed as well. Among them was an Indian couple from near Detroit and I started talking to them about subway maps, etc. Then I asked if I could tag along with them as they went to Hotel Les Invalides, where Napoleon’s tomb is, and they said yes, so I started to learn the subway system again. in wasn’t so interested in that place, having been there before and been less than delighted with it, but it gave me a place to start. I got a 3-day Metro pass—should I have gotten the 5-day? Who knows? In any ncase, there’s no 4-day pass but maybe I can get a one-day pass for Thursday if I need it. Decisions, decisions.
So, we saw Napoleon’s tomb with the aid of an audio-guide which I couldn’t follow, having walked too far into the area before listening to the description outside. It was free with the ticked to no sweat (7.50 euros, no senior reduction). Then we had some refreshment in the cafeteria, so I could finally at 4pm get some lunch—a Pepsi and a ham & cheese sandwich for 6 euros. I had already eaten the rest of the energy bar in my tote bag. Should look to see if I have another one with me, just in case. This irregular
Eating schedule isn’t good for me, I’m sure. Then, we went to the exhibit about the two world wars, which was quit3e large starting with a French defeat by Germany in 1871, and the fall of the Paris Commune. A lot of guns, uniforms, movie clips with English subtitles, posters, photos, miniature tanks, gun turrets, etc. it was on 3 floors of the museum. I was ready to crash by the end. We came out the museum at the side opposite of where we had entered and it looked like the side I had been on when I was there in I 1989—I was looking for the café we what coffee at last time. Walked to the nearest subway. I successfully navigated the change at Opera station and got off at Pereire, which I thought might be closer to the apartment, but when I got out of the station, I walked the wrong way around the circle—I really needed a compass, which wasn’t on my packing list. Maybe a GPS gadget. I’ll have to add it for next time—and had to ask at a pharmacie for the right directions. It’s really hard to read the mapn and always need my glasses. I had asked for help from a woman on the street but she didn’t have her glasses with her and we couldn’t do it with one pair still, I got back at 7pm and had time to rest before Henri arrived about 7:40. I was just wondering if I should try to call him when he walked in.
A little after Henri arrived, and looked on his Mac laptop (white) for news, Elizabeth arrived, and got dinner together. We had mousse de foie gras for appetizer, on bread of course, and the rest of the faux crab salad. Then a leftover roasted chicken heated in a bag in the microwave. Red wine and water to drink. Grated carrot salad and some rhubarb that Henri had cooked (from his garden) for dessert, along wi8th plums and grapes we brought from St. Remy. Later, before bed, we had tisane, which I think is herbal tea, meant to look it up. Henri worked on his computer and Elizabeth and I read.
September 12, 2006, Paris
This will be a short entry; at least until I get home and have a chance to update this on my own computer. I have to get to bed soon so I'll have enough energy tomorrow to be a tourist again. This is the first time I've been in Paris in the last 15 years, and I've gotten so used to the laid back ways of Albuquerque; but my big city skills are re-surfacing. Things like reading a subway map or a bus map. There's a lot to do here, and how to choose without running myself ragged? Some things are bringing up memories of the last time I was here; with Mary and Richard, when they got married. I got myself a metro pass, but it was easier this time; just request it at a ticket window. Last time I had to go to a railroad station where they have those photo machines, and submit a photo of myself for the pass. Today I went to the Musee D'Orsay. Started with an exhbit on the history of photography, then to the exhibit about Rodin and his friendship with the painter Carriére. They often created works on the same subject. Of course I couolldn't skip the Impressionists, and that kept me busy until the museum closed at 5:30, so I was there for four hours! I was plenty tired and my arthritis was acting up as well. Tomorrow, Montmartre
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