Last mango in Paris...again

Well, we're at the end of another trip. The video says a lot, but here are a few more of my final thoughts on Paris:

Things I Will Miss
-bread
-pastry shops on every corner
-the beautiful architecture
-the "life is to be enjoyed" attitude
-the bed in our apartment
-knowing that wonderful museums are just around the corner
-chocolate
-bread
-gaufres (see the photo)
-short skirts (that's Tim's contribution to the list)

Things I Will Not Miss
-the smell of pee in the subway
-the formality in everything
-dinner isn't served until 7 p.m. or after
-it's damn cold here
-everyone smokes here
-Clip Clop (a named we've given one of our neighbors who clods up and down the stairs in high-heeled shoes obnoxiously early and impossibly late)
-kamikaze pidgeons

Signing off from Paris--see you soon!

Put my panties in the air and wave them like you just don't care

Yes, this post is about my unmentionalbles. You still have time to turn the car around, but after this point, you may be as scarred as I am. For you creepy people, there will be no photos that correspond with this post.

It was a day of retail therapy for me. Suz and I dropped the fellas off in a delightful cafe and took off for a few area department stores. The first store we tried had tons of stuff that was interesting to look at, but nothing to buy.

The second store was a huge score for me. I found a few great things at reasonable prices. Two of the things were Unmentionalbles (that's all the detail you get). After I thouroughly perused the store, I took my purchases to the counter to pay. This went off pretty much without a hitch for someone in a foreign country. Bag in hand, Suz and I decend three floors to the ground level to continue our retail conquest.



Just as I reach for the door handle, the store alarm starts screeching. And hustling toward me is the biggest, baldest, darkest skinned Frenchman I have ever seen. His size is intimidating. His uniform is intimidating. The fact that he and I can't understand each other is intimidating. But he was very nice.

He asked for my bag and the reciept for my purchases, which he took to a small table just inside the door but still in front of everyone exiting and entering the store. He checked the reciept and then began pulling one item at a time out of my bag and waving it in front of a security sensor. It wasn't the tights. Nor the hat. Next came an Unmentionable, which he flapped around like a flag for the Nation of Underpants. If I had known how to say, "This is the best part of your day, isn't it?" I would have. Although, I'm pretty sure my Unmentionable purchase would have probably suited someone's granny.

Alas, it was not the offending item. It turned out to be the turtleneck I bought. Thank goodness.

On to Bayeux...Part Deux

We pick up this blog with our little group spending its first night in the charming Midieval town of Bayeux...

After exploring the town and grabbing dinner, we all decided to call an early night for several reasons:
-we had to get up early for the D-Day beach tour the next morning
-it was freezing
-there was nothing else to do

When we went to bed, the world around us looked like this:



When we woke up, it looked like this:


About four inches for fluffy snow had fallen during the night. Not thinking much of it, we went to breakfast at the restaurant in the hotel. While we were eating, Battle Bus, the tour company we hired to take us to the beaches, called. The tour was canceled. The guides couldn't get their cars out of the driveway. Plus, the roads were "treacherous."

What? For four inches of snow? Puh-shaw!

We decided to head out on our own in the rental car. Again, que the dramatic music.

At first the roads were just wet. But as we wound our way down (note the word, "down") to Omaha Beach, it became increasingly snow covered and icy. Add to that the excitement of a two-foot ditch on either side of the road and we really have a ballgame.

After some slipping and nearly getting stuck, we decided it was best to turn it around. Uphill. On ice. Ugh.

With the traction control working full time, Tim began easing the car up the hills back to the main roads. Give it some gas, slip to the right. Put on the brake, slip a little more. The driving was difficult at best, our knuckles matching the snow we thought was no match for us.

Finally, it happened. The car wouldn't move any further. We were stuck on a back-country French road with no pastry shop in sight. Not a single crepe stand to speak of around.

It's time to push the car up the hill. I got the money job of driving while the other four pushed our snot-colored Vibe uphill on ice. But, we're all pretty tough, and since I'm blogging here now, you probably guessed we made it to the main road with a story to tell.

After a quick stop at the British Memorial Museum and a drive-by of the cemetary, we decided another spanking was in order, so we turned the car toward the North Sea, a huge snowstorm we knew nothing about, and the abby of Mont St. Michele.

The drive started out as simple as one can expect driving in a foreign country. Then the first few flakes began to fall. Charming, we think. Then, the flakes got serious. Soon, it looked like this:

Shit.

Lord bless him, Tim gave it his all with that car and driving in yucky conditions. But after seeing a few road signs that roughly translated into, "Hey dummy! Turn around! The roads are horrible!" we decided it would be best to come back another time. Like in the summer. When it's nice out.

So, we drove back to Paris and out of a blizzard. And that was our big adventure to the North Sea.

The End.

On to Bayeux, Part I

We fell off the grid for a little while there. And let me explain why.

On Tuesday, Tim, Tony, Shelley, Suz and I all made our way to the airport to rent a car and drive to Bayeux in north France. The Plan was to drive to Mont St. Michele, tour the abby, then drive to Bayeux for the night. The following morning, we'd have a tour of the D-Day beaches and explore the town after the tour. Note the word, "was."

Que the dramatic music.

Bright and early Tuesday morning we got on the train for the airport to pick up the rental car. The email confirmation for the rental car looked like we were to go to Terminal 3. So, to Terminal 3 we went.

Please keep in mind it's freezing here. I know you're freezing at home. I just want you to know that it's no luau here, either.

We get to Terminal 3 only to find out that the rental car is in Terminal 1 and we need to hop the airport tram to get there. We are now Plan Execution Time Plus one hour. The entire trip, if you Google Map it, should take about three hours thirty minutes.

In Terminal 1, we find the rental car place and a pastry (score!)and head out to the car. A manual transmission. Now's the point in the story where I backtrack a little and let you in on a joke. Tim's been telling everyone that he's been learning to drive stick by watching YouTube and Gone in 60 Seconds as well as playing MarioKart. He was very convincing. In reality, he asked a friend (Thanks, Matt!) to teach him to drive a stick, which he claims was a piece of cake.

We pile into the car, snug as bugs in a rug. Tim starts the engine. Takes a few seconds to familiarize himself with the car. Puts it in gear. Lets off the clutch. And stalls.

No biggie. We were all expecting an adjustment period (Tim wasn't, so confident was he in his skills). He starts the car again, noticing the rental car guy standing right next to us pretending not to watch. He puts it in gear, lets off the clutch. And stalls. This vicious cycle repeats itself no fewer than eight times. Meanwhile, we've managed to go about seven feet, including the couple of times we rolled backward a little.

After a few more efforts, we actually drive forward about 50 feet when we come to a corner and we miss it. Now, the car has to go in reverse to angle around the tight corner. Please pause with me a moment to reflect back on the rental car guy who is watching this entire episode unfold and what he must be thinking.

This is the point in the adventure that we all decide it will be better to check again to see if an automatic is available, or else we might miss our reservations in Bayeux. It would take an awful long time to get there, inch by inch.

While Tony and Tim figure out how to bring the car around, Suz and I go in to check on the possibility of getting a different car. The woman behind the counter took pity on us and found a "huge" vehicle that would suit us perfectly. Roughly, it was a Vibe, maybe a smidge bigger.

We pile into the new car, start the engine, put it in gear and--WOO-HOO!--start barreling along at 15 km/hr. A record for us in this parking garage. It was the best 50 euro upgrade ever.

Now that we have a car that is equal to our skill level, navigation becomes the ticky part. Paris roads are a tangled up mess of spaghetti, which I imagine are difficult under the best circumstances. Add to that unfamiliarity with the different signage, language barriers and the art of French hand gestures and you have quite a show. But once Tony got the Garmin working, things got considerably easier. Shelley and I still had maps and printed directions and were calling out the next move from the back seat. Suzie, perhaps the smartest of us all, stayed quiet and barely flinched. Bravo, Suz!

Plan Execution Time Plus two to three hours. We now all feel several years older.

At this point, we change plans, scrap going to the abby that day and go straight to Bayeux for some exploring and small-town French life.

The rest of the ride went without a hitch. We got there six hours after we started. But, it was worth the wait.

Bayeux is a beautiful little town on the north side of France. By some great blessing, it was unscathed by the German bombing and did not get mowed down on D-Day. The town boasts two features: a fantastic cathedral (called Notre Dame, of course) and the Bayeux tapestry. We set out to explore both. Photos aren't allowed of the tapestry, but here's a bit of the cathedral and the town for you:






Stay tuned for Part II....

Churches on Sunday. Appropriate.

Miles walked: 2.35, but I think the pedometer is lying
Steps: 6,373, yet another lie
Crepes today: two, which is the truth, but they came two to a plate, so I couldn't turn one down, could I?

The day started early with the entire gang meeting at the Christmas tree in front of Notre Dame at 9 a.m.


Walking to the cathedral was almost a religous experience unto itself. The city was sleeping, the air was crisp, the sun was casting a light pink tinge across the rooftops and the hookers were doing their walk of shame. How do I know she was a hooker? No one, and I mean no one, dresses in a skirt so short it could be considered a scarf accompanied by heals that high to go out and get the Sunday paper.

Since we were at the cathedral so early, we had the place almost entirely to ourselves. We go there in time to walk around while Mass was being said, which added to the experience, especially when the singing started.


After seeing Notre Dame's windows in the morning light, we walked across the street to St. Chappelle (San Sha-pelle) to see its famous windows lit up. Because the chapel is within the compound for the Supreme Court of France, we had to go through a security checkpoint. Metal detectors, X-rays and a wanding down by a pretty good looking soldier is a funny way to go into a church (Tim dared me to touch the soldiers side arm--I declined the dare).

St. Chapelle is a small chapel built hundreds of years ago so the royalty could worship without the commoners breathing the same air. You enter the chapel on the ground floor and come into a small but elaborate hall. Two spiral (yes, every staircase is spiral) staircases take you to the next floor and into the chapel. When you get to the top of the stairs, you see this:


Beautiful, right?

The stained glass windows in this church are famous for their size and age--some go back hundreds of years, which impresses me since France is on its fifth republic and much of Europe was scarred by the world wars.



There was no heat in the chapel, so you coul, quite literally see your breath. I think it's a ploy to keep the tourists moving through the building--no dawdling there!

From St. Chappelle we hopped on the Metro and made our way to yet another church (hey, it's Sunday), the Sacre Coeur. It's not a seat of religous power, in fact it was built in the 1800s sometime, so it isn't even very old by European standards. It's the neighborhood where it sits that makes this church a hotspot.

Sacre Coeur sits on top of Montmartre a high point in Paris. It looks a bit like a mosque, which probably caused quite a stir back in the day. Although, I think the more controversial aspect of this church is the fact that the benefactors had themselves enshrined in the mosaic above the alter of posterity. Yep, right next to Peter, Paul, John, Matthew, Mark, Luke, Mary and Jesus himself are the people who raised the loot to build the church. So, high on the dome of the church are the apostles in their period clothes hob-knobbing with the muckety-mucks of Paris circa 1840.


We used Sacre Coeur as a jumping off point for a walk around Montmartre, the area of Paris made famous by artists like Picasso and Delacroix.

The morning went by with such precision, we finished our entire Paris itinerary by 1 p.m., so we decided to make it a full church day and visit La Madeliene. Looking more of a Greek temple than a Catholic church (ponder the ironies there for a minute), it was new to us and free to enter, therefore it fit the bill perfectly.

Many churches around Paris, including Notre Dame and La Madeliene display Christmas chreches for the public to view. La Madeliene did so in style. Please don't think I'm mocking religion, because I'm not. I am, however, laughing hysterically at the mustaches and eyebrows of the wise men:



The Paris Opera house was nearby and since the line was too long to tour the building the last time we walked by, we decided to give it another try. We were in luck! the grand staircase, marble work and general ornateness of the building truly is something to behold.



I was a little disappointed, though. We weren't able to poke our heads into the actual theater and see the mural on the ceiling by Marc Chagall because we would interrupt rehearsals.

Tonight, we're having a relaxing night in with friends, food and wine. Two of the gang left for home today and a few more leave tomorrow. Soon, it will be down to the basic five and we'll be on our way to Normandy.

Hitting hot spots while freezing

Miles trod: 7.14
Steps stepped: 19,300
Crepes consumed: 6 total

Had another busy day today. We're at the point in the trip where we feel we have to start knocking some of the big stuff off the list or we might not get to it.

The day started early with a trip up 284 spiriling stairs to the top of the Arche de Triumphe. Napoleon sure thought a lot of himself to have that huge monument built in his honor. It's almost humerous, knowing how he ended, to see the stone facade depicting him in a Caesar-like situation complete with laurel wreath crown.



View from the top:



Let me tell you. Going up to the top was excellent exercise. Those staircases that sprial up FOREVER are tough to navigate, if you can believe it. Mostly because they're so discouraging. You can't tell how much progress you've made simply because the scenery never changes.



And going down is no easier. Sure, you aren't gargling your heart by the time you get to the bottom, but you can be very dizzy.

Anyhoo. We (read: I) was rewarded for my climb with a shopping trip on the Champs Elysses, the premier shopping street in Paris. It was fun ducking in and out of the shops even if I didn't buy anything. Most of the time it was a chance to warm up.

Tim, Tony and I went on to the Louvre and saw the masterpieces.



I love the Louvre. There are times, standing in front of a DaVinci or Michelangelo that I get a little teary-eyed (as cheesy as that sounds). I'm just so amazed to be standing in front of something touched and inspired by genius.

We finished our schedule for the day in record time, so we had time for a walk through the Left Bank of Paris. This is where the poets, artists, famous people in general and the wanna-be's all drank coffee and pondered.

The walk took us past the oldest church in Paris: St. Germaine des Something.



The tower is original and dates back to the early 1100s. This was the second go-around for this church. The first one was demolished by a group of inconsiderate Vikings around 875 a.d.

We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and a very full itinerary. Keep your fingers crossed for short lines and fair weather.

Yep, we're still hanging with the dead people

Steps today: 16, 071
Miles walked: 5.94
Crepes digested: one more than my last count (am I in double digits yet?)

It was a bitterly cold day in Paris. The first day of the year started off biting cold with little snowflakes here and there.

Our day began a little later than normal to give us all time to recouperate from the NYE party the night before. Once we all gathered, we headed to Pere LaChaise (Pare La Shez) Cemetary to poke through the graves.

The cemetary is hauntingly beautiful home to many famous people. I'll just let the photos speak for themselves.







Tomorrow, we really have to do something less morbid.

New Year's Eve in Paris

We celebrated New Year's in grand style this year. We started with a food-and-drink celebration at Tony, Susie and Shelley's apartment. Around 11:30 p.m. we strolled (some people staggered) to Pont Neuf (Bridge Nine), which is the oldest bridge in Paris.

At midnight:

Oh, dem bones!

After a rather lazy start to the day, the entire gang, seen here:


met up for a tour of the catacombs. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. But I'm pretty sure it was one of the least romantic things Tim and I have ever done. The catacombs were created because the cemetary in one area (ironically the area where we live), which was used for hundreds and hundreds of years, was making the residents around it ill. So, it was decided to move the bones of the dead into one area. The idea caught on and soon bones from all Parisian cemetaries began pouring in.


Today, you wait in line for 90 minutes in the freezing cold to decend a crazy spiraling staircase, walk for about 15 minutes through tunnels (think: the Seven Drawfs going to work) and walk through another 30 minutes or so of stacked bones.


The catacombs are huge. When you walk out, you're a mile away from where you started. The stacks are five feet tall (about as tall as me) and 80 feet deep. For miles.

Throughout the stacks are signs letting passersby know what cemetary evicted the bones. Some signs are more prophetic with sayings like, "We were once what you are, and you will someday be like us." Or, "Happiness is found in a man who knows he's going to die and lives everyday as if it were his last." Loosly translated,of course. They could be saying, "Don't forget to tip your waitstaff," for all I know, since my French is pretty rusty.



Anyway, it was interesting to see and I'm glad I went. Although, I did chuckle at the sign at the entrance warning people who have nervous dispositions that this might not be the activity for them. I also thought it was funny that they had a defribrillator at the top of the exit stairs (six flights of spiriling stairs straight up that are about one-and-a-half times taller than normal). There was also a guy there checking bags for stolen bones--and you can see he rescued a few today from sticky-fingered tourists!

My hoofs hurt

Miles walked: 8.66
Steps taken: 23,417
Crepes eaten on this trip: 2 (I'm falling behind)

I think we walked to Spain today.

Tim and I had the day to ourselves most of the time. The others went on a tour of the Loire Valley castles. So, we took advantage of our time and toured Paris on foot.

It was a little rainy, but very warm (lower to mid 50s, I'd say), so it was pretty comfortable. We walked through the courtyards of the Louvre, the Tuilleries (TWILL-er-eeees) and visited the Petit Palais (Puh-TEET PAL-aye).

The Petit Palais was one of the most beautiful museums I've ever been inside. The building is an old palace long since out of use for royals, but gorgeous for us common folks.



We saw a little art (it's a small museum),had a snack in the courtyard cafe and puzzeled over this guy's choice of pants/man bag.

All in all, it was lovely. And an added bonus--it was free!

After a great afternoon, we met up with some friends we haven't seen in a few years: John and Kristine. They moved to Mexico a few years ago and now live in Balitmore. John got in touch and told me about their plans and we decided to meet up while here.

At dinner, I decided to be adventurous and order something I didn't fully recognize. Ususally--usually--this works out. This time, not so much. I ended up with raw beef. With a raw egg in the middle of it.

Tim, who has the gastric fortitude of a champion jalapeno eater, was the gentleman and switched dinners with me. He ate the raw beef. I tried a bite. It was actually pretty good, but knowing what it was, I couldn't eat it. I have a wonderful husband.

Good times! Our little gang grows bigger by the day. Kyle and Kirsten join us tomorrow, so I'm sure there will be lots of fun stories to report.

Take a tour of our neighborhood!

Be kind. This is our first attempt at vlogging.

Meet the Gang

It occured to me that I didn't introduce our fellow travellers to you. From left to right in the top picture: my cousin Susan (heretofore referred to as Suz, Tim's brother Tony, Tim, Erika, Kevin and Tim's friend from the Corps, Shelley (Kevin is Shelley's brother and Erika is is wife).

Paris Eve

Tonight we leave for 14 days in Paris. Well, mostly Paris. Some Normandy, too.

Packing is especially hard this time. You mix packing for winter and spring with being on the road for 14 days and you get quite an issue. Luckily for us, there's a Laundromat right across the street from our apartment. We'll be using that a few times, I'm sure.

A typical luggage entourage for us is a personal bag and a carry-on. We frequently preach the wonders of traveling carry-on only. This time, because of some very bad influences (yes, Suz and Shelley, I mean you) we're also taking a checked bag. It's helpful to pack the scarves, hats, gloves, boots, etc. in the suitcase. But we've gone into the mindset of "Well, we have room..." So, the inspectors will find in our checked bag--no joke--no fewer than six guidebooks, a jar of peanut butter, full-size liquid bottles (oye!) and a box of FiberOne bars (hey, don't judge-lots of cheese will be consumed on this trip!).

We are legitimizing this by telling ourselves there will be lots of room to bring back souvenirs. It is not our proudest travel moment.

But we're looking forward to this trip a lot. We remember how much we loved Paris the first time we went and are hopeful it doesn't disappoint. The weather is looking wet but warm, which is a relief. And everyone going along seems up for a fantastic adventure.

Our next post will be from Paris!

Let the countdown begin!

Happy to report we can once again live up to the name of this blog--we're heading to Europe!

I hope you'll bookmark our travel blog and visit often between Dec. 27 and Jan. 8. We're going to Paris and this time, we've conned... er... asked a few friends to join us. So, you'll have our (mis)adventures to experience in cringe-worthy style (remember when Tim got pooped on by a French bird? See the posts from 2006 if you don't know the story), you can also live vicariously through eight of our closest friends.