Sacrebleu

Gayle and I had no tickets to anything today.  Last night while we looked out at the skyline, Sacre Coeur stood out prominently on the high hill.  I said, “We have to go there tomorrow.”  She can never remember what it is called so she calls it sacrebleu, which is an expression we first learned from Pepe Le Pew cartoons.  We took our time getting ready this morning.  We devoured our Kouign Amann pastries….damn they are good!  Then we headed down to the outdoor cafe on the corner for some caffeine and some people watching.  Eventually we started walking, thinking that if we called for an Uber on a one way street headed to Sacre Coeur we could get there in half the time.  Gayle had found the address on Sacre Coeur’s website for how to get to the back of the church and take an elevator up to the sanctuary.  She keyed in that address.  We knew it would be a bit of a ride and so we relaxed.  But the ride was taking longer than it should and so I looked up where the driver was on Google Maps and we were not even close to Sacre Coeur.  I told him we were not going to the right place and he stopped the car.  We told him where we wanted to go and he headed that way.  He kept sighing.  He was a bit put out but he gathered himself pretty quickly.  When we got there we were not at the very bottom of the hill but we were also not near an elevator. There were still too many steps for Gayle.  She said she would wait for me and enjoy the view.  

I climbed to the top of the stairs which were crowded with tourists.  Everywhere you turn there are men selling locks and water. Locks take up every available spot in the area.  I read a novel one time about a man whose job it was to go around London cutting locks off of bridges.  

When I got to the top there was a guitarist singing “Les Champs-Elysees”.  Tourists were taking turns singing with him and getting their photos taken as the line to get through security and inside the church snaked around to the back of the building.  I had no desire to spend my day waiting in line to get into Sacre Coeur.  Although, I might have enjoyed singing with the guitarist.  I descended the stairs and found Gayle watching the funicular. 

We walked over to Place Tertre in search of food.  With the mix up in directions we didn’t arrive to Sacre Coeur until after 1 p.m.  We sat at an outside cafe and ordered lunch, making sure we got more frites.  Our waiter was excellent and a bit of a flirt.  Gayle asked if she could take his photo and he gave us his best pose then demanded to see the phone so he could show his fellow servers how handsome he is.

We walked around the Place Tertre and admired the desserts in the windows and watched as people had their portraits or caricatures done.  

Now to get back off this high hill…we headed back to Sacre Coeur in search of a taxi.

We were rewarded with a nice view of the Eiffel Tower.  She does know how to show off.

Back at the apartment Gayle opted for rest and I headed out to do some souvenir shopping.  I took the Metro to the Passage Jouffroy. 

I browsed through shops. 

I like to get a pair of earrings when I travel.  When I wear them I am reminded of my trip.  But nothing caught my eye.  So I got back on the Metro and headed back to the Marais.  There is a jewelry store near our AirBnB that has a pair of earrings in the window that I really like but they were closed when I first admired the earrings.  They were open today and I bought the earrings.  I asked the woman what they were and she translated the stone for me:  ruby root.

I went back to our rental then.  I need to pack for tomorrow but I feel completely unmotivated to do so.  Gayle and I went out to find dinner and settled at an outdoor cafe on a corner that would be good for people and dog watching.  I decided to try chicken fracissee.  I liked it.  Back in our apartment we packed for our long trip home tomorrow and went to bed early.  We will have a very long day tomorrow that will bring my month long adventure in Europe to an end.

A Frantic Run Through the Streets of Paris

Our timed tickets for 10:30 a.m. at the Musee de l’Orangerie allowed us time this morning to move around without rushing.  We left our apartment as if we had all the time in the world.  We called for an Uber at the end of our block and longer than we expected  for one to be found and get to us.  The map app showed that we would arrive at the museum at 10:35.  Our tickets said we had a half hour grace period.  We were unworried.  But traffic got worse and worse.  At one point we were stuck behind two trash trucks.  We sat still for so long that Gayle got a message from the Uber app:  “You haven’t moved in a while.  Are you okay?”  When we finally got to Place Vendome the driver suggested we get out and walk the rest of the way.  It would still be quite a walk for Gayle with her cane but we opted to get out.  So many streets in Paris are blocked off as the date for the opening ceremonies of the Olympics gets closer.  The driver encouraged us to hurry and get out while he waited at the stoplight.  We complied and were hustling down the street at our old lady pace when Gayle said my name with a whimper. I turned and with great distress she said, “I don’t have my purse.  I left it in the Uber.”  I thought I could probably catch up with the driver because the traffic was so jammed.  I took off as fast as my little pony steps would allow me.  When I caught up with the trash truck and our Uber driver wasn’t behind it I headed back to Gayle and just shook my head.  In her purse was her passport and her wallet.  It looked like we would spend tomorrow figuring out how we would get her back to the US.  

She had her phone and she said there was an AirTag on her purse so we hoped we could locate it that way.  But it appears that the battery was no longer any good on the AirTag.  We wasted quite a bit of time trying to figure that out.  She got back on the Uber app and sent a message that she had left an item in the vehicle and asked for the driver to call her.  Something neither of us knew you could do before today.  Both of us were quite shaken by that point.  Then her phone rang.  The driver had gotten the message and his next rider had found her purse.  They were headed back to the Place Vendome and so should we.  I ran ahead of Gayle to meet the driver.  I thanked him profusely and gave him a nice cash tip.  I also thanked the rider. I think they were kind of tickled to help the two old ladies from America. This is what Gayle looked like by the time she got back to Place Vendome and had her purse safely on her shoulder.  

I can’t describe how relieved we both were at that point but it is hard to shake off the panic we had just lived through.  We knew that we were no longer going to the Musee de l’Orangerie.  I saw on Google Maps that there was a restaurant close by and we decided we needed to sit and recover.  What I didn’t realize was that the restaurant was located in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, a five star hotel.  Their cheapest rooms cost about 1,900 euros a night.  We decided to boldly walk in and ask to eat breakfast in their restaurant.  I said to Gayle, “We need to act like Kay Lobban.”  She is a woman from our childhood who had money but never dressed like and never acted like it but she went boldly wherever she wanted to go and demanded good service.  We Kay Lobbaned that hotel and they treated us like queens.  This was the second best breakfast of our trip.  Only the Wolseley in London beat this experience.  We sat outside on their inner courtyard and pretended we could afford to stay here.

Occasionally we would look at each other and laugh.  It was nervous laughter.  How lucky were we this morning?  It could have ended so differently.  On a trip that Gayle and I took to South Africa, she left her wallet in a taxi in Johannesburg.  She did get her wallet back but it had to be flown to us and then driven to where we were on safari.  There was some money missing but no credit cards and no id was lost.  Ever since then I have watched her like a hawk….at least I thought I had my eye on her.  I have become a bit of an overbearing hound dog.  Usually when we get up from a meal or prepare to get off a boat or train or out of a taxi I ask, “Do you have your phone?  Do you have your wallet?  Do you have your cane?”  I didn’t think I had to ask her if she had her purse and when we got on the train in Chartres I didn’t ask her if she had her backpack.  I need to step up my game and she has agreed to not get annoyed with me when I quiz her if she has all of her belongings.  

Musee l’Orangerie no longer in the picture we talked about what we should do next.  Running through the streets of Paris looking for an Uber driver was hard on Gayle’s back.  Should we just go back to the apartment?  Gayle felt like we needed to do something else to redeem the day.  We decided to find a good viewpoint to see the Eiffel Tower since we skipped our boat ride last night.  We have debated numerous times if we should go by Uber or taxi while we are sightseeing here in Paris.  Gayle is now sold on Uber since the app aided us in tracking down the driver to get her purse safely back in her arms.  We requested another Uber and headed towards the Musee de l’Homme, which promises an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower.  The Musee de l’Homme is 2.2 miles from the Mandarin and it took us an hour to get there.  There are so many places blocked off right now.   We used the hour to rest and point out interesting sites along the way.  If we don’t get to the Arc de Triomphe, at least Gayle got to see it from a distance.

The view of the Eiffel Tower from the museum plaza was wonderful.  

Below you can see a huge set of bleachers…and doesn’t Gayle look happy with her purse tightly strapped to her torso.

We spent quite a bit of time on that plaza, soaking up the beautiful day and enjoying the pigeons on the statues.

We tried to get an Uber back to our rental but the app wanted us to walk quite a distance to a meeting point.  So we opted for the taxi close by and were back in our apartment in a half hour…with all our belongings.  We ate our leftovers from dinner the night before.  Gayle headed for a nap and I set out to go to the Musee Rodin.  I had purchased tickets ahead of time and since we have forfeited our last two pre-booked tickets I was determined to get there.  I love the Metro here.  I remember older trains and people playing accordions on the train asking for money.  Now they are well-manicured trains with doors that keep you from pushing anyone onto the tracks.  The stops near the Louvre and Rodin have art. I wonder how long this has been true or was it part of the preparations for the Olympics.  I am not putting the older cars and accordion musicians down.  It was part of Paris’ charm but I do remember in the past getting stuck in the Metro car and having to get off and find a different way back to my hotel. 

When I arrived at the museum, I wasn’t surprised to find Rodin’s “The Thinker” being restored.  Everything in Paris right now seems to be “under construction.”  

The piece in the center of this photo is called the Gates of Hell.  It depicts a scene from Dante’s The Inferno.  The original sculpture of this piece is at the Musee d’Orsay.  Several of the characters found in the Gates of Hell were enlarged by Rodin.  An example of this is The Thinker, which you see above the door looking down.

Rodin later added the sculptures of ashamed Adam and Eve to flank the gates.

I didn’t walk the whole sculpture garden.  The whole center of the garden is under a tent being worked on so I headed into the museum.  I won’t bore you with each piece but I especially enjoyed Rodin’s Kiss, 

the hand emerging from the tomb 

and A Man and His Thought.

When I arrived back in the Marais I decided to walk around a bit.  We are eating at George tonight, a restaurant on the very top of the George Pompidou Center.  I wanted to find the entrance so Gayle didn’t have to walk around the entire building as we searched for it.  As I wandered the streets I found a boulangerie that sold kouign amann.  I got a couple for our breakfast and then decided I wanted to stop in the gift shop in the Pompidou Center.  I had to go through security just to get inside.  My two knee replacements set off the machine.  I explained that I had metal in both knees and the security guard said, “No.  It is your Apple Watch.”  So I took it off and headed back through and my knees set off the machine a second time.   “Go America,” the security guard shouted as he waved me on.  After looking around I headed out to find the Stravinsky Fountain, which was on my spreadsheet as something close by our AirBnB and worth a stop.  There are sixteen works of sculpture in the fountain.

There is even a mermaid with water spraying out of her nipples.  

As you could see from the photo there is a church behind the fountain and, of course, I headed in.  It is the Church of Saint-Merry, named for Medericus (Merry), a hermit, priest and monk.  At the age of 13, Merry was “adopted by the church” and his parents gave up all rights to him. He was an especially devote monk.  At a very early age he was elected Abbot of the Christ of the Wolf Tooth flock.  But raising him to this position was hard on Merry.  His many miracles drew crowds.  He no longer found the peace he had enjoyed in the priesthood and so he withdrew to the forest to be alone with God.  But the monks found him because they didn’t understand his disappearance.  Under the threat of excommunication by the Bishop, Merry returned to the monastery. This church, built in his honor, has been nicknamed Notre-Dame la petite

Most of the other visitors to this church appeared to be unsheltered men, which was completely in line with St. Merry who is credited with healing many people who were down and out.  Once I was done touring the church, I headed towards our AirBnB on Rue Rambuteau and passed a protest in support of more adit to Ukraine and passed the whimsical Stravinsky fountain. 

Gayle and I got ready for our 9 p.m. dinner reservation at George Restaurant.  We opted to eat so late because we wanted to see the skyline in the light and in the dark.  I got four separate emails from the restaurant making me confirm that we were really going to show up and reminding us that the dress code is “elegant”.  I have now been on this European adventure for four weeks.  I had to pack for “camping” on a canal in Wales and an “elegant” meal in Paris.  It was a challenge.  As Gayle and I got dressed in the wrinkled dresses from the bottom of our suitcases we reminded ourselves to “Kay Lobban” this evening.  To be allowed to this rooftop restaurant (6 flights up) you have to prove you have a reservation while you are still on the ground level.  We followed in a group of Italian tourists — the men all in suits and the women in short dresses, stiletto heels and carrying Louis Vuitton bags.  Our mantra was “Kay Lobban” this sucker.  Our “credentials” were checked.  I gave my name and said, “We have reservations for two.”  “To the restaurant,” he replied incredulously.  “Yes,” I said, as Kay Lobban would have said it.  Once through security we traveled up six flights of escalators, which are on the outside of the building.

At each landing we stopped to see the view becoming increasingly beautiful.  We could see from Norte Dame to the Eiffel Tower

to Sacre Coeur.

We thought they might seat the old women from America in some back corner but we got a window seat.  Each table has a long-stemmed rose, which accurately describes these roses.

Their napkins are the size of bath towels.

Our food was good but not amazing.  No matter.  We were there for the view.  Every once in a while I would hop up and run outside for another photo of the darkening sky.

At 11 p.m. the Eiffel Tower started glimmering and all the customers in the restaurant pulled out their phones to take a picture.

We enjoyed lemon pie with raspberries for dessert.  After making sure Gayle had her purse and cane, we headed back to our place.  The Eiffel Tower was showing off for us as we descended via 6 levels of escalators.

Tomorrow is our last full day in Paris.

Stained Glass and Catacombs

Last night when Brett unexpectedly arrived while we were eating he gave us the rest of his passes for the bus/metro/RER.  Since we had passes in hand we decided to take the bus to Sainte Chapelle this morning for our 9 a.m. timed entrance. We waited outside the George Pompidou Center for the bus.  It was a lovely, if not chilly morning.  

We missed our stop but got off at the next one and walked past the Fountain of St. Michael.  

As we crossed the river we saw several divers working in the Seine.  We wondered if they were doing something in preparation for the Paris Olympics and ParaOlympics.  Three races will take place in the Seine and Paris has spent 1.4 billion euros cleaning up the river.

We thought security was tight last night when we went to the concert at Sainte Chapelle when the Supreme Court was not in session.  Today we were met at the end of the block by police with their hands ready on their guns.  We showed them our tickets and they let us through.  

We waited in line behind a father from Texas with three teenage girls in tow.  We had a lovely conversation with them while we waited to go inside.  They are going to spend three whirlwind days in Paris before heading to Istanbul and finally Moscow.  I hate waiting in line but it does afford you the chance to meet people.

We had just been at Sainte Chapelle last night but it was good to go back and be able to study the windows.  King Louis IX, the only king to be made a saint by the Catholic Church, personally commissioned the building of this church.  He had purchased what many believe is Jesus’ crown of thorns and he wanted a church to house them.  The crown of thorns now reside in Notre Dame and survived the fire.  This panel of stained glass depicts the crown of thorns being placed on Jesus’ head.

The church was built in only six years from 1242 to 1248.  We started our tour in the basement where the peasants worshipped.  A statue of Louis IX has a prominent place.

We climbed the spiral staircase to the upper sanctuary where the king and queen worshiped.  1113 scenes are represented in stained glass.  The story begins on the north side of the sanctuary with Genesis and ends on the west side in a rose window with scenes of the Apocalypse.  

You find the stories you expect:  Adam and Eve, Noah, Moses, and the Passion of Jesus.  The two half circles in this stained glass depict original sin and the banishment from the Garden of Eden.  

I was surprised to see that the story of Tobias from the Apocrypha received space in the stained glass.  The king himself is depicted as part of the Biblical genealogy as a worthy intercessor between God and his people.   I wore out long before I found the king.  After a while looking at the 1113 scenes represented in the stained glass it began to feel a bit like a Where’s Waldo book.

Every space of this church has art.  Even the floor has an intricate pattern.

On the columns between the stained glass are statues of the 12 apostles.  The parts of the statues that would allow us to identify which one is which disciple are no longer present.  John, the Beloved Disciple, is the only one identified because he was, supposedly, the youngest and therefore did not have a beard.

Below the stained glass are panels telling the stories of Catholic martyrs.

Jesus stands between the two doors leading in to the upstairs sanctuary.  Just like at the Chartres cathedral he is standing on two heads that represent evil.

We wore ourselves out studying the stained glass in this sanctuary, which was crawling with other tourists doing the same thing.  We exited back through the Palais de Justice. 

Police with guns kept us from crossing the street.  We had to go back to the end of the block and out the barricade.  We ate a late breakfast at the very same restaurant we had dinner in last night.  We were tired and hungry and needed to be restored.  Then we walked over to the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  

Restoration was happening on the cathedral after the devastating fire. A crane was actively working as hundreds of tourists on bleachers and in the square were eating lunch and getting their Instagram photos.

By then Gayle was done in.  We couldn’t find a taxi stand for a quick exodus so we walked back to the bus stop we arrived at, just as it started to ran.  It was a long, wet wait for a bus.

We assumed the bus would drop us off on the opposite side of the street where we had caught it this morning.  We didn’t take one way streets into consideration.  It was a long walk home through the rain.  We came back via the other side of the Pompidou Center with its long escalator ride to the top.  It feels like everything here is in its last minutes throes to be ready for the Paris Olympics.  We are eating at the George Restaurant at the top of the Pompidou tomorrow night.  We got an email reminding us that “elegant” attire is required.  I hope they take us in the clothes we brought.  I did not pack “elegant”.

While Gayle rested I headed out on an excursion to the Catacombs.  The other two times I have been to Paris I wished I had purchased tickets in advance. So this time, knowing that Gayle rests in the afternoon, I got myself a ticket.  I hadn’t yet taken the Metro in Paris on the trip so that was on my list.  Before I headed to the Catacombs I took a quick walk around the block. Every where you turn there is another park and another statue.

I walked past a museum and recognized a face on their poster.  We saw images of this man all over Chartres, on walls and depicted in the lumieres.  He is Jean Moulin, considered one of the main heroes of the French Resistance during WWII.  He was tortured and murdered by the Gestapo in 1943.  This picture was painted on the side of a building in Chartres.

Friends had told me that the Catacombs was one of the most memorable things they did while in Paris.  I was ready to climb down a myriad of steps to enter the catacombs below street level.  I was ready for the mile walk underground.  What I hadn’t even considered was how claustrophobic I would feel walking through this long, narrow tunnel after reading about collapses Paris once experienced because of this stone quarry that was later turned into the Catacombs.  Water ran down the walls.  I thought to myself, “When was the last time these tunnels were inspected to make sure they are structural safe?”  Shortly after that thought I passed a sign that said the site is particularly fragile due to the humidity levels and the large number of visitors every year.  I could have done without that sign.

I finally made it to the entrance to the catacombs.  On an sign over the door is a verse by the Latin poet Virgil.  Translated into English it reads:  “Stop!  This is the empire of the Dead.”

Every where you turn there are skulls and bones. The Paris Catacombs contain the remains of several million people who died in Paris between the 10th and 18th centuries.  Bones were moved to this catacomb due to public outcry.  People were already concerned about disease in relationship to the huge cemeteries within the city.  Then a mass grave collapsed into the cellars of neighboring houses.  The Parliament of Paris ordered the closure of the Cemetery of the Holy Innocent and the bones from this cemetery moved to the former quarries, which were at that time, on the outskirts of the city.  The transfer of the bones happened at night over a fifteen month period.

In 1809, the General Inspector of the Quarries had the layout of the catacombs cleaned up and the bones tidied.  He transformed the ossuary into a museum promenade.  The bones are stacked lovingly and respectfully, and dare I say artfully.

You can tell the places where people have cracked them through carelessness or deliberately removed some of the skulls.  

This hole to street level is where the bones were dropped down into the catacombs.

Just before you climb back up the myriad of stairs to return to the hustle and bustle of Paris a sign reminds us that we are all equal in the face of death.  It quotes a 1809 visitor who wrote these words after touring the Catacombs:  “I visited the true temple of equality.”  

I returned to the streets of Paris a mile from where I had gone down the first set of stairs.  I had told Gayle I would bring dinner back and I wanted to go to L’As du Fallafel.  I had read an article about it and Brett had gone there for dinner last night.  I got back on the metro and tried to get as close as I could.  As I was walking to the restaurant I passed this wall:  Le Mur des Justes.  On the wall are carved the names of people who worked to saves the lives of Jews during WWII.  I reiterate, it feels like there is something significant to see at every corner of this city.

On the way to get falafels I came upon Au Bourguignon du Marais. Friends had told me that it was their favorite place to eat in Paris.  I had told Gayle I didn’t want to leave France without having some Beef Bourguignon.  I ducked in and got some to go for me.  Then I headed up to buy falafels for Gayle.  I had read that there is always a long line at L’As du Fallafel.  There was no line.  Was I just lucky or has the Israeli-Palestinian War impacted this restaurant?

With my Beef Bourguignon and Gayle’s falafel platter, I headed back to our apartment.  I stopped for a baguette and drinks arriving with my arms full.  I had walked 14,000 steps and climbed 15 flights of stairs.  We feasted in our little “RV” apartment.  My dinner of Beef Bourguignon goes down as was one of my top meals on this trip. Gayle and I had tickets to take a boat ride on the Seine tonight at sunset but we were too tired and sore to use them.  We need to save our energy for tomorrow’s adventures.