Mystic Squirrel

2010-12-04T07:08:00.000-08:00

~~Proceed With Confidence~~

A good traveler has no fixed plans,

and is not intent on arriving.

Lao Tzu

2010-12-04T07:07:00.001-08:00

Wednesday, October 27^th~ Thursday, October 28^th

Filled with gregarious enthusiasm after last year’s trip to Europe, I immediately began planning this year’s return visit to Paris. I dreamed about it, I told lots of people about it, I read travel books and watched French movies with English subtitles.

I felt much more prepared this year, and was very proud of myself for refusing to make the same naïve mistakes twice. The leg and foot swelling debacle of last year’s trip was of paramount importance in my mind since it made walking and sight-seeing so dreadfully uncomfortable.

After conducting some cursory online research and quizzing friends who travel frequently, it became clear that compression socks were a “must”, as was better hydration and thus, more frequent forays to the lavatory.

I paid a visit to our local pharmacy which deals with medical supplies and learned that I could be specially fitted for high-performance compression stockings that would either end at the knee or go all the way up to the waist. These stockings were designed to be worn post-surgery and were costly: $80 to $200 for the top-of-the-line Kung Fu Grip compression. First of all, I balked at the notion of being “fitted” for these things back in the private room, and secondly, the cost was an unhappy surprise. The lady who was explaining my options and watching my expression turn sour finally said,

“Why don’t you just get some Travel Socks, dear?”

Well, okay! Where are those? Up to the front of the pharmacy we go to an actual “travel” display, complete with Dramamine, Imodium, ear plugs and the glorious Travel Socks. These were knee-high white socks, priced at $25 which seemed like a bargain after seeing what was available back in the private compression stocking fitting room.

What a great purchase these were! Yes, they were tight (as I was nearly breaking a sweat while pulling these on before our flight, I was put in mind of those little devices that help you squeeze the last of the toothpaste up and out of the tube)

and yes they worked far better than I imagined.

When we landed in Paris after our 9.5 hour flight, my legs and feet were energized and I felt great!

Here is a link to a well-written article about making long flights more comfortable:

http://www.active.com/travel/articles/Travel_and_lower_leg_swelling.htm

Speaking of our flight, allow me to now extol the virtues of Air France.

Last year we flew on British Air and were treated to surly, disdainful service, cramped seating with malfunctioning air conditioning and questionable, tasteless food. By comparison, Air France was something of a flying palace.

The flight was not full, so my sister and I were each able to have short rows of seats to ourselves where we could stretch out and practically lounge our way to France. The crew was calm and gracious, the passengers were quiet and pleasant and I marveled at the difference in food quality. We were served two meals of exceptional taste, low sodium and obviously fresh ingredients (it occurred to me that perhaps the AMA and the FDA are in fiendish cahoots to keep Americans hypertensive and overweight).

Fresh rolls and real butter were offered by a smiling flight attendant. When we landed, we found the Paris airport to be spotlessly clean, quiet and orderly. Our checked baggage arrived promptly and without drama. We walked a short distance and were greeted by a smiling cab driver who acted as though he had been waiting for us all along, helped us with our bags and drove us pleasantly into the city.

A perfect beginning to our journey!

We stayed at the same place as last year, the Grand Hotel Leveque which is a little gem on Rue Cler near the Eiffel Tower.

Interestingly, we are booked into the same room as last year, and it all feels pleasantly familiar and like a home-away-from-home…..almost as though no time has passed since our last visit.

Very few issues with jet lag. I slipped right into Paris time quite naturally, pleased with how easily our journey has begun!

Hotel Leveque

http://www.hotel-leveque.com/en

2010-12-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

Friday, October 29th

A fabulous breakfast at Café du Marche with croissant and omelet apparently made in Heaven. How can something so simple taste so wonderful?!

Today we have decided to visit Chartres, which is a train ride about an hour outside of Paris. Managing the Metro is quite a bit easier this time around and we navigate the underground subway system as though we have been doing it for years.

We arrive at the train station and find that it is jammed full of people with rolling luggage. This is confusing for a moment until we realize that it’s Friday and lots of folks are heading out of town for the weekend. Interestingly, for such a hub of transportation in a large city, the communication system seems oddly behind the technological times. There are small, awkwardly-positioned screens with scant information about the train numbers and times of arrival and departure, and there seems to be no orderly way to get from the ticket purchasing area to the train platforms.

We wander in the general direction that everyone else seems to be going and finally spot a large board which lists the train numbers and tracks, complete with an analog clock and a strict refusal to share track information until 15 minutes before departure.

Huge groups of people and rolling luggage gather on either side of this board, gazing up silently, awaiting information. As soon as a track number appears on the board, a chunk of the group breaks off and bolts for the train, leaving the rest of us to stare and wait for further information.

Eventually, our track is announced and we proceed to track 20. We hold second class tickets and of course, I am curious about the first class accommodations on a commuter train. It turns out that the curtains and seats are red in first class and green in second.

The seats are perhaps a little larger in first class. Other than that, no discernable difference, but who knows? Since I was not sitting there, I have no way of knowing what fabulous services might have been provided to the first class folks.

Our tickets were not asked for or stamped in either direction, and it becomes clear that we could have had our train ride for free. There are very few passengers going to Chartres and no interaction with anyone who could have been a conductor other than hearing someone blow a whistle to announce the all-clear for the train to depart.

It is a beautiful ride through the country….grazing sheep, farmland, trees in abundance changing magnificent colors and I am once again put in mind of the Midwestern landscape.

We arrive in Chartres and walk the short distance uphill to the Cathedral.

We've done some research and have learned that this is a place of interesting, very old energy….a mix of Catholic tradition and pagan rituals such as a labyrinth in the floor and a large astrology wheel on one of the massive stone walls. The Cathedral is dimly-lit and cold with none of the welcoming essence found in Sacre Coeur or even Notre Dame. The chairs have been moved off of the labyrinth and many rambunctious children are running amok, so we decide to peruse the gift shop until the crowd clears.

An Asian tour group is packed tightly into the small gift shop, chattering loudly and handling as much of the merchandise as they can get their hands on. The ladies behind the counter are trying to maintain order, but the pushing, shoving and shouting are beyond chaotic.

We do manage to purchase a few items when the mob clears a bit.

Our visit to this Cathedral is less than satisfying. Someone is attempting to tune the organ and persistently hits jarring, discordant notes. Children are apparently unsupervised, running around and shrieking. More tense Asians trying to photograph the labyrinth in the floor, making it impossible to walk it in peace.

We leave the Cathedral feeling as though the energy is old and played-out, neither one of us feeling the need to return.

Next, we are to experience our first truly rude person in France—an insolently sullen young waitress at a restaurant near the Cathedral who administered a heavy dose of passive aggression as well as a terrible tuna sandwich which was little more than watery tuna straight from the can, dumped onto a stale baguette and plunked, unsliced on the table in front of us without a word.

The pipes in the walls were groaning and banging loudly every time someone flushed the toilets. One small sandwich, two bowls of soup and hot tea came to 27 Euros…..merde!

We stroll through the town for a bit and finally decide to catch an earlier train back to Paris.

A clown trash can near the Cathedral.....relevance unknown.

Food is not allowed in our hotel room, but we figure out how to smuggle hot tea, cookies and sandwiches up, anyway.

Chartres Cathedral

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/chartres-cathedral

2010-12-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

Saturday, October 30th

Rain all night!

Lovely wet cobblestones on Rue Cler, dripping, colorful trees, people with umbrellas, walking and eating warm croissant.

After another delicious breakfast, we depart for the flea market at Vanves (described as smaller, friendlier and more organized than the massive market at St. Ouen) with excited expectations. Last year, we missed the flea markets altogether due to a misunderstanding about the days and times of operation, so this time, we head out with determination and pockets full of Euros.

There are many vendors under colorful tents offering a wide assortment of wares.

As described, most of the vendors speak at least a little English and I stumble through some remedial negotiations with happy outcomes.

I have been to many flea markets and swap meets in the past 30 years, and I can honestly say that this was one of the best experiences I've had. Items were really, truly vintage and antique....not piles of schlocky junk from someone’s mold-infested basement.

I am still skittish about really jumping in with both feet due to the hassle of figuring out how to ship larger items back to the states (the prevailing rumor is that the French post offices are notorious for theft). With this in mind, of course, I immediately spot many things I believe I cannot possibly live without: an antique dress form, vintage beveled mirrors, small tables, a chandelier from the 1920s and bolts of vintage fabrics, all begging me to take them home.

I pull myself together and make do with smaller items that will fit into the extra duffle bag I will use as a carry-on. The rain holds off as we peruse the stalls, then suddenly, the vendors decide en masse that they are bored with the whole thing and begin packing up at 2:00 (rather than at the advertised 5:00 p.m. closing time). We hurry to make sure we have seen it all, but of course, we would have needed an entire day to do so.

We enjoy a baguette chicken sandwich and an amazing apple croissant before heading back on the Metro. Once again, I am struck by the low sugar/salt content in the food, and yet it is more delicious than anything I can think of in America!

Since it is still early, we stroll down to the Eiffel Tower on wet streets, enjoying the walk.

We make note of the fact that the dogs and children all seem very well-behaved and polite.

We have had fun shopping the local grocery stores for items we don’t see at home and settle on Pim’s pear cookies and hot tea for a light snack/supper. Delightful day!

Vanves Flea Market

http://www.discoverfrance.net/France/Paris/Shopping/Paris_fleamkts2.shtml

http://www.bonjourparis.com/story/vanves-flea-market/

2010-12-04T07:04:00.000-08:00

Sunday, October 31st

Overheard in the breakfast room at the Leveque (woman in her mid-50s with big hair and a heavy Texas drawl speaking to group of traveling companions):

“My 80-year-old parents, who are, might I add, more Internet savvy than I am, have not checked in with us once! I mean, they are out there, traveling around, doing God-knows-what and not taking two minutes to post an update on Facebook or Twitter. They could be lying in a ditch dead somewhere and I would not know about it” (and after a brief pause) “not that there would be anything wrong with that at this point….”

I get a good chuckle from that last comment and when she sees me snickering, says, “Oh, you have those parents, too?” More chuckling and eye-rolling as we all tacitly agree that parents can quite effectively and with very little effort, ruin your life. I briefly toyed with the notion of interjecting that I was raised by drunken gypsies, but decide to keep that bit of information to myself.

We decide to return to Vanves to check out the flea market vendors we missed yesterday. Encouraged after the previous days’ learning curve of negotiating in French, I become bold and sassy with the vendors, pretending like I only have these few Euros (holding out the coins in my hand) and walking away if they won’t make a deal. ALL of them were willing to deal when I pulled that “C'est la vie” stunt, and I was giddy with acquisition excitement.

Later, since it is such a mild evening, we take a stroll by the Seine, listening to street musicians and snapping photos. It’s Halloween back in the states, but there is no sign of it here except for one couple in costume who appear to be heading for a party and one little novelty shop with masks and hats in the window. Quite a different focus than the traditional Halloween festivities back home where people seem ravenous for any excuse to dress up like hookers and pimps and indulge in massive quantities of alcohol and/or sugar.

I notice that there are posters all over town advertising the Jackass 3D movie premier. Apparently, it’s the only American film being promoted here which makes me wonder if this is why we (as a nation) are regarded as the large, immature, bully children on the playground.

2010-12-04T07:03:00.000-08:00

Monday, November 1st

http://www.ehow.com/how_2064994_celebrate-all-saints-day-france.html

Bus ride to Notre Dame this morning. It’s All-Saints Day, and there are lots of folks hanging around the Cathedrals as well as the cemeteries today. Before I left, quite a few people asked me if we were going to check out Jim Morrison’s grave at Pere Lachaise Cemetery, which I had no intention of doing since I was never a fan. I am always up for a leisurely stroll through a cemetery, but I knew that some of the Americans that do go to Pere Lachaise tend to deface the headstone and surrounding crypts making it an ugly experience. So it’s not on our “to-do” list. Plus, with the holiday, it’s probably jam-packed with weeping, mourning young women who weren’t even alive when Jim died (1971). Seems silly to me.

We enjoy our time inside Notre Dame and then head over to Shakespeare and Company bookstore. When you purchase a book, they stamp the inside cover with this cool logo, so of course I had to buy a wonderful book of quotations. It’s such a tiny shop, that a mere handful of people can make it seem quite crowded and claustrophobic so I don’t linger too long.

Next we walk over to Ile-St.-Louis for lunch at a cute café and some shopping in the fun and interesting little stores that line the streets.

It’s a holiday, so we navigate through large crowds of shoppers and then decide to take the bus back to Rue Cler. Information about the bus routes and schedules is very sketchy, and so we assume that we can take bus 69 which has a circular route that drops passengers off at the Eiffel. As we climb aboard and tell the driver our destination, he vigorously shakes his head while trying to explain with hand gestures and loud French exclamations that we won’t be able to get there from here.

That’s okay, we say, thinking that he is somehow not understanding that we wish to ride to the Eiffel Tower….a main destination point in town that bus 69 regularly goes to! Forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the end of the line and are booted off the bus, miles away from where we need to be. Down into the Metro tunnels during rush hour amidst hundreds of people pushing, crowding and jostling one another.

This Metro station is different from the other ones we’ve been using and the ticket vending machines only accept commuter pass cards. Nightmare!

Back up to street level to locate another bus, which we do. The ride from the right bank back to the left bank takes nearly an hour and I have plenty of time to observe the locals:

~~Elderly women fashionably dressed and impeccably color-coordinated. No granny shoes or purple hair for these old dames!

~~A certain fondness amongst the 30-somethings for dressing like 19^th century aristocratic stable boys. Lots of tall boots and jodhpurs. Flowing shirts open to expose hairless chests. Long, dramatic trench coats and scarves. Scruffy, unshaven facial hair. On the tall, thin women, the costume du jour is black tights and short skirts worn with tall boots. All casually stylish and relaxed as though it is an afterthought to dress so well.

~~Baguettes and cigarettes: The National Pastime. A good 80% of observed humanity either consuming, purchasing or carrying baguettes while simultaneously juggling lit cigarettes.

~~Elderly Asian couple boarding the bus, wrestling with a new litter box and a big bag of litter. This is the first evidence I’ve seen of the existence of felines…..so many people have dogs; many of the small ones are being used as accessories to the aforementioned stylish outfits.

~~Flower stands overflowing with greenery and blooms, inviting one to come in and gather a bouquet.

Older couples walking arm-in-arm down cobblestone streets, pausing to admire an artful display of tangerines, avocados and pineapples.

~~Couples of all ages sitting on the steps near the Seine, holding hands and kissing as a solitary musician plays 1940s love songs on a violin, a woven basket in front of him, collecting the change of those passing by.

Shakespeare and Co.

http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/

Notre Dame

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-notre-dame-cathedral

Pere Lachaise Cemetery

http://studenttravel.about.com/od/eftoursphotos/ig/Pere-Lachaise-Paris-Cemetery/morris_plach_ef_06.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P%C3%A8re_Lachaise_Cemetery

2010-12-04T07:01:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, November 2nd

We take the Metro to Montmartre to visit beautiful Sacre Coeur. A light rain is falling and the Basilica is invitingly warm with candlelight, just as it was when I saw it for the first time last year.

Check out these AWESOME views of the interior:

http://paris.arounder.com/en/churches/sacre-coeur/le-sacre-coeur-interior.html

http://paris.arounder.com/en/churches/sacre-coeur/le-sacre-coeur-interior-02.html

We arrive to see the end of Mass and a choir of nuns singing hymns, their voices echoing off of the domed ceilings, adding to the ambiance.

Two hours passes strangely fast as we absorb the peaceful energy, walk around admiring the statuary and artwork and peruse the gift shop which holds interesting items.

Later, we stroll through the streets of Montmartre with its quirky blend of schlocky souvenir shops, intriguing import and specialty stores and cafes. We take a chance on ordering lunch from one of the street vendors and are pleasantly surprised by the truly delicious hot dogs (huge, soft bun, 2 wieners of remarkable quality, smothered in flavorful cheese and served hot) which we enjoy while watching the children play in the courtyard.

Back to Rue Cler where we indulge in a late snack of hot tea and perfect crème brulee at a cozy corner café. The waiters are all business and precision, handling the influx of patrons like a well-oiled machine.

Sacre Coeur Basilica

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-sacre-coeur

2010-12-04T07:00:00.001-08:00

Wednesday, November 3rd

Today we decide to walk to the Orsay museum and have the good fortune to stop by another incredible Cathedral along the way called St. Clotilde. Wonderfully clean energy, lovely art work, statues and icons. Much more enjoyable than Chartres!

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-ste-clotilde.htm

The Orsay is a museum of Impressionist art in an old train station which was beautifully remodeled in the 1980s.

It is a stunning building with a gigantic inventory of art pieces, but we are immediately drawn into the Jean-Leon Gerome exhibit and spend the entire time admiring his work. Nothing else seems quite as captivating to us that day, especially since his pieces are done in photograph-like realism and the other displays are Impressionist (Monet and Van Gogh which have never been my favorites).

We pass an antique frame shop on our walk and go inside to inquire about the gorgeous frames in the window display which are shaped like small golden Cathedrals. Only 700 Euros for the pair, we are told.

It figures that the thing we would be most drawn to would empty the bank account on the spot!

Another lovely little dinner and dessert smuggled up to the room (strict rules about “outside food” going up to the rooms, but food purchased in the breakfast room and eaten upstairs

is perfectly acceptable. Right.) and a good night’s sleep after much walking.

The Orsay Museum

http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/history-of-the-museum/home.html

Jean Leon Gerome

http://www.jeanleongerome.org/

2010-12-04T07:00:00.000-08:00

Thursday, November 4th

Since I am an earlier riser, I have about 90 minutes or so to hang around in the small lobby and breakfast room before my sister comes down. This turns out to be plenty of time to observe some interesting behavior as guests arrive and depart.

A harried-looking German couple arrives with too much heavy luggage banging and getting caught in the doorway, bickering and squabbling as they struggle to the front desk. The agitated woman stands off to the side sniffling and wiping tears away as her husband sweats profusely and talks to the lady at the front desk in a voice that is too loud and falsely chipper. I recognize the "happy act" immediately, having endured many "vacations" which played out in this exact way.

Cute and stylish gay couple arrive wearing matching scarves and berets, eager to get out and shop for antique chaise lounges and wrought iron bird cages. I wonder if they know that they are a day late for the flea markets!

There is one computer in the busy lobby for general use with a 10-minute limit and a strangely high, uncomfortable stool to sit on. The Internet connection is painfully slow and the keyboard is arranged differently than our American keyboards, making it challenging to type out even the briefest of messages. On two separate occasions, a large, imposingly mannish woman dressed in cargo shorts and a plastic rain poncho hangs over my shoulder, commenting on the keyboard and breathing down my neck waiting for her turn on the computer. I sign off before my 10 minutes are up and sulk impatiently in the reading nook while she surfs the Internet and coughs all over the computer screen.

I catch the end of a heated tirade between an older American woman and the lady at the front desk. The argument is about the broken toilet seat in American woman’s room, and how she should have the rate of her room discounted by 1/3 because of the severe inconvenience of having to straddle a broken seat every time she uses the toilet. Front desk lady is trying to stay calm, but her voice is escalating to match that of the American bully who is threatening to call her lawyer AND American Express travel services to help her handle this dire situation. Front desk lady refuses to budge on the room rate (125 Euros per night) at which point American woman announces loudly for all to hear, “If this happened at home, I could get a replacement seat at a Home Depot and have the whole problem solved in 10 minutes! Why do you people move so SLOW?!” And as she storms out the front door, she announces to people passing by on the street, “Don’t stay here! The service is terrible!”

There have been examples of the Ugly American all over this city, sadly. I try to be extra polite to make up for my boorishly immature countrymen.

Back to Notre Dame today to see if the grouchy old woman at the newsstand is still there (see last year’s blog post on October 14th), holding court over her collection of Archangel Michael statues (something we have seen nowhere else in the city) and interesting vintage religious articles we admired last year but were not allowed to purchase. She is there, crouching behind the safety barricade of her desk, scowling and muttering French insults at us as we look around her tiny space filled with newspapers, magazines and what appears to be her personal collection of icons, holy cards and shrines. No Michael statues at all this year, and since she is more hostile than before, we back out of the shop hastily.

We walk around and then have lunch near the Cathedral (12 Euros for two cups of tea!). Yet another frustrating attempt to ride the bus back to Rue Cler (why is this SO difficult???). As it turns out, the Chinese president is in town and the bus routes have been changed. Back to the old standby of the Metro, a little rest in our room, inexpensive dinner at a sidewalk café and then a walk to the Eiffel and Seine for one last look.

In addition to the Chinese president’s visit, there are hoards of German soccer hooligans swarming through the city, celebrating the recent game. We see 20-30 riot squad vehicles at a time trying to contain the madness, streets are closed, police are everywhere, and as we approach the Eiffel, we see the wreckage of their party…..uncountable beer and wine bottles broken, food wrappers and trash of all sorts strewn about as thousands of fans leave their ugly mark on the city.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0A3T1VXpKc

Though we are shocked and saddened, none of the locals seem disturbed or all that surprised by this display.

2010-12-04T06:59:00.000-08:00

Friday, November 5th

The week has flown by and it’s time to return home.

For the past few days we have heard and read about the rumors of a pilot’s strike, and for a day or so, it looked as though we might need to find another way home. Thankfully, the strike is called off in the eleventh hour. Only the American travelers at the hotel seemed concerned…..the front desk staff shrugged and rolled their eyes as though these boring strikes happen once a month.

Our cab arrives on time, the ride to the airport is peaceful and we have plenty of time to check out the amazing Air France terminal at Charles De Gaulle. Once again, we are greeted by a spotless environment, rows of reclining massage chairs, banks of computers with free Internet connection, restaurants with actual chefs preparing meals, mall-like shopping and two different spas. The restrooms are large and clean. At the gate, there is an area where you can stretch out and watch television until it’s time to board the plane.

This flight is more crowded, so we are not able to have rows to ourselves, but the two seats we have together are comfortable, there are plenty of movies to view and we are close to the back of the plane so that we have easy access to the restrooms.

We are presented with wonderful meals including fresh bread and are offered wine with dinner.

Haagen Dazs ice cream bars are available for a snack. There is a beverage station set up near the galley with sliced fresh lemons for the drinks. Even though we are in the economy section, we are not treated like cattle and the experience is delightful.

I am once again wearing my Travel Socks and they work just as well on the (longer) flight home. These things are my new best friends!

I feel so blessed to have been able to return to beautiful Paris so soon. It feels like a second home to me, and I have enjoyed being able to spend more time getting comfortable with the city and her inhabitants.

Until next time……

Je vous remercie beaucoup pour la ville qui me tient à coeur.

(Thank you so much to the city that holds my heart.)

2010-12-04T06:53:00.000-08:00

More lovely photos from our Journey:

(glass elevator at the Hotel Leveque)

The Journey Begins!

2009-10-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike.

And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless.

We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip;

a trip takes us.

~John Steinbeck

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a homebody by nature, and most definitely an introvert, so I really haven't traveled much in my lifetime. My first trip on an airplane was in 1969 when I was 8 years old. I flew to Dallas, Texas to visit my Grandparents, and I remember it as being a fun (although hot and exhausting, since it was in the dead heat of August) adventure, but I was definitely happier to come back home.

This year, my brother-in-law generously gifted me and my sister with a trip to London and Paris for my sister's birthday. At first, I wasn't sure that I wanted to brave international situations and be away from home for that length of time, but slowly, that wonderful voice in my head and heart told me that it was time for me to expand my horizons and see these beautiful places.

I decided to keep a journal during our trip, because I know that memories (even really good ones) tend to fade with time, and I wanted to be in touch with this experience for the rest of my life.

What a magnificent experience it turned out to be!
We laughed, we cried, we ate remarkable food and saw fantastic things. My dreams were quite vivid both in London and Paris, and in Paris, especially, I felt as though I had walked upon those streets, prayed in the cathedrals, laughed over tea in the corner cafes and connected with the people long before this time. I truly felt at home and as though the doorway was now open for me to experience it all again whenever I chose.

Thank you for sharing in my lovely adventure!

Tuesday, October 6th

2009-10-26T06:47:00.000-07:00

The day of our trip has arrived!

We depart on schedule from LAX feeling enthusiastic and very blessed to have an empty seat between us for the long flight. I really had the wrong idea in my head about what a 747 would be like. I envisioned comfort and luxury, but really, for those of us in coach, it's just a gigantic bus in the sky.

Ha!

Whether it was all the excitement or the cramped seating and non-existent air circulation, I do not get any sleep to speak of on the flight. We also do not drink enough water, which unfortunately (in combination with long hours of sitting) contributes to swelling of the feet and ankles. But, hey...what do I know? This is my biggest trip ever and I am willing to endure some discomfort to get to where we are going.

I am strangely annoyed by the man in the seat directly across the aisle from me who manages to get a solid 8 hours of snoring slumber for reasons that are unknown to me (drugs/alcohol/will power/dumb luck or a combination of all of it).

We fly into the sunrise with happy anticipation, a short nap and a couple of light meals. What seemed to be helpful was mixing a little of Dr. Singha's Travel Tonic into some water early on in the flight. The combination of herbs seemed to dispell the foggy sensation of jet lag. At least initially.

http://www.isabellacatalog.com/prod.cfm/pgc/21300/sbc/21306/inv/11406

Wednesday, October 7th

2009-10-25T13:04:00.000-07:00

We arrive at Heathrow ahead of schedule (thanks to a nice tailwind) and take the underground (Tube) to Kensington where we walk a short distance to The Vicarage Hotel.

http://www.londonvicaragehotel.com/welcome

Charming Bed and Breakfast type hotel with our own bathroom! Flying Monkey makes his first appearance in the shower.

It's late morning, and since neither one of us slept much on the plane, we decide (wisely) to take a short nap before exploring the city. Our room is comfy and clean, and I drift off into slumber....only to be rudely awakened by construction jackhammering, sawing and pounding right outside the window. Someone is singing Otis Redding songs while he hammers some metal object into place. Evidently, it's time to get up.

We walk in the light rain for a bit and then get tea and cookies to bolster our energy.

We walk past some of the local stores and Hyde Park which is lush and green and a nice change from the parched California landscape we just left behind. Feeling a little fuzzy with the jet lag by now.

A little later, it's time for dinner at Wagamama. Yummy noodles!

I notice as we walk around that the city seems filled with tall, good-looking, serious men in nice suits (lots of pinstripes) traveling alone. Carefully-styled hair which seems to hold up even in the drizzle (probably due to plenty of product). The women are stylish as well, but the men all seem to have a certain look about them.

We see exactly 3 "homeless" people the entire time we are in London, and even they have on bow ties and are positioned cleanly and carefully out of the way of foot traffic.

No bums, no trashy streets, orderly and clean underground stations and bathrooms everywhere we went which was amazing for such a big city.

Thursday, October 8th

2009-10-25T11:34:00.000-07:00

It seems that most of the Internet cafes are gone now due to wi-fi access at so many places in the city. Since I did not bring a laptop and have promised to share e-mail updates with family back home, we ask around and discover that the local library has Internet access and lots of computers.

So we begin our day there, and then take the Tube to Westminster Abbey which has a great audio guided tour (narrated by a dryly witty Jeremy Irons) and WAY more to see than I imagined.

http://www.westminster-abbey.org/home

(he must have grown tired of waiting in line)

Next we have lunch in the crypt at St. Martin-in-the-Fields

http://www2.stmartin-in-the-fields.org/page/cafe/cafe.html

where people are simply dying to get in (crypt humor)!

I have now decided that it's time to locate souvenirs for family members, so we walk for what seems like endless miles to find the elusive London Hard Rock cafe (which no locals seem to know or care about), Beatles t-shirts (even though we are nowhere near Liverpool) and London trinkets.

Eventually, with feet swelling and aching (still not right from the long plane ride and lots of walking in inappropriate shoes) we find ourselves at the infamous Harrod's department store.

(check out this fun Harrod's 360 degree video)

http://www.harrods.com/harrodsstore/experience

the unimpressive entrance belies the ostentatious excess within.

the opulent Egyptian escalator

And then we arrive at the slightly creepy memorial to Princess Diana and Dodie Fayed

http://golondon.about.com/od/recommendedshops/ig/Harrods/Dodi-and-Diana-Memorial-2.htm

In the little pyramid is a dirty wine glass and the engagement ring Dodie purchased for Diana right before they died in a car crash in 1997. Initially, my morbid mind assumed that the glass was recovered from the crash scene (the glass has brownish splatters on and in it), but as it turns out, it's supposedly Diana's used glass from their last meal together.

There is quite a crowd gathered around this memorial which is positioned at one of the escalator landings, so not much room to gawk and take photos. A couple of women are quietly weeping.

I find the whole thing strange.

Friday, October 9th

2009-10-25T10:57:00.000-07:00

This morning we had some delicious porridge (oatmeal) for breakfast along with toast and the perfect cup of tea with milk and sugar. Feeling quite British all of a sudden!

We return to Westminster Abbey to wander leisurely and soak in the vibe. I love the Poet's Corner and enjoy seeing the statue of Shakespeare and the memorials for so many of my favorite poets of the past (Byron, Shelley, the Bronte sisters, Tennyson, Wordsworth).

We have lunch at a pub

And then on to the British Museum. Beautiful architecture!

http://www.britishmuseum.org/

We've come to check out the vast collection of Egyptian artifacts including (at last count) over 65 mummies. It's quite crowded and the mummy room is uncomfortably warm, so we don't linger too long.

We find the Rosetta Stone, but there is a huge crowd gathered around it as though it's about to begin some sort of broadcast, so I sneak a peek and we move on to the Japan display room which has a small but beautiful collection of items. Our favorite is this statue which is a stunning introduction to the rest of the room:

A Samurai suit of armor

and one of the largest (30 feet tall maybe) Buddha statues I've ever seen.

We have tickets to attend the ceremony of the keys which is the nightly locking of the Tower of London, but due to some stalls and delays on the underground tracks, we miss it by about 10 minutes. Guess we weren't meant to relive any bad past life memories there!

Saturday, October 10th

2009-10-25T07:50:00.000-07:00

Our last day in London!

We walk to Portobello Road in Notting Hill to investigate the gigantic, world-famous Flea Market....

along with 10,000 other people! It was way too crowded for any real shopping, but I did see some interesting antiques along the way.

http://www.portobelloroad.co.uk/

From what I could see (when I could get close enough to anyone's booth), things were way overpriced. Great selection of items one really doesn't see much of at an American Flea Market, but simply not worth the asking prices.

We overhear a disdainful French man speaking to his companion:

"Zey lure you in and zen zey take your money!"

Got a good chuckle out of that one.

After a tasty lunch of fish and chips, we take a walk through Kensington Gardens. This is where Princess Diana once lived.

Flying Monkey made some friends here!

Flying Monkey pays homage to Queen Victoria.

I have noted and appreciated the unique humor and good manners of the Brits.

Even the squirrels were polite.

At the end of the day, we visit a lovely old church (no such thing as a "new church" anywhere in England, I suspect) called Saint Mary Abbott's which is very close to our B&B. We lit candles and enjoyed the serene atmosphere.

It was a good day!

Off to Paris tomorrow.......

Sunday, October 11th

2009-10-24T15:47:00.000-07:00

We get an early start and take the Eurostar Chunnel to Paris which is clean, luxurious and fast!

This is the route the train takes under the English Channel. I manage to fall asleep for this part of the journey which is good due to my discomfort (read: agitation and claustrophobia) with vehicles being under the water! The entire trip takes about 2 hours, and it seems to pass quickly. The French countryside is much like the midwest except for the numerous (very) old churches dotting the landscape.

Paris at last!

And my first view of the Eiffel Tower which is close to our hotel.

I feel like I am reuniting with a very old and dear friend as I acquaint myself with this city.

The Grand Hotel Leveque is beautiful and we have a room on the 4th floor. The hotel has a one-person glass elevator which is like riding upstairs in a phone booth.

We are located on Rue Cler which is quite charming with cobblestone streets, corner cafes and lots of cheese, wine, produce and fish vendors.

http://www.hotel-leveque.com/en/index.php

We luck into a local antique flea market and I score some wonderful old hardware and a vintage French prayer book. A helpful man appears out of nowhere and assists me in dealing with the book vendor who has had more than a few glasses of wine and no English whatsoever except an enthusiasic repeating of, "Obama! Yes? Obama!"

We had planned on making it to the huge flea market in Saint-Ouen (a metro or bus ride away), but misunderstand their operating hours and miss out on the whole thing. I am only temporarily disappointed as I realize I could have easly gone berserk at this place and then had to figure out how to ship all of my purchases home. The Universe was probably looking out for me on this one!

Monday, October 12th

2009-10-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Today we decide to brave the city bus system. You'd think that the whole thing would be fairly self-explanitory with maps and such, but the language barrier does pose some challenges. Helpful folks with broken English try their best to get us to the appropriate bus stop, and eventually, after some comical trial and error situations, we do.

We take the bus to Notre Dame (Our Lady) Cathedral. The good part about the bus (as opposed to the underground system) is how much of the beautiful city we are able to see.

Even though tourist season is officially over, there are long lines of people waiting to pay 9 Euros to climb the 400 steps to the top of the bell tower to have the Quasimodo experience. We choose to forego that adventure and enter the cathedral (no charge).

Beautiful energy, lovely art and the unexpected pleasure of being able to experience organ practice that day.

Caught some orbs in this photo....

Our Lady of Paris

After spending time here (we lit candles, of course), we find a little cafe and have wonderful crepes for lunch. After that, we arrive at Shakespeare and Company book shop which was a total treat to experience

http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/index.php

This is a tiny two-story apartment jammed floor to ceiling with books....some for sale, and others to enjoy there in the comfy alcoves and overstuffed armchairs.

By now, it's tea time and we are in fairly close proximity to the Louvre, however the thought of attempting to see "15,000 works of art in 15 minutes" (National Lampoon's European Vacation) is rather daunting at this late stage in the day. So we choose to have tea and cookies in one of the cafes inside the Louvre and check out the huge gift shop, which was interesting, and I joked that I didn't need to see the real art.....it's all right here for sale!

Outside the Louvre near the glass pyramid

We managed to find the right bus back to the hotel (hurray!) and had a nice dinner (I had a cheeseburger which was tasty, but different.....very rare beef and a generous dollop of what I assume was some sort of odd tasting liquid cheese), then made our way close to the Eiffel Tower to see it lit up. By now, my feet were aching (wrong shoes...live and learn), so we did not take the elevator up to the top. Just enjoyed it from the ground floor!

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you,
it will be enough.

~Meister Eckhart

Tuesday, October 13th

2009-10-23T19:07:00.000-07:00

Another wonderful breakfast at Cafe du Marche just down the street from our hotel on Rue Cler. The prices are very reasonable and the croissants are perfectly delicious!

Next, it's off to take the Metro (underground) to Montmartre

http://www.parisdigest.com/promenade/montmartre.htm

which was a bit challenging to navigate initially, but with the help of a friendly English-speaking local, we get the tickets purchased and figure out which line to take.

This is probably one of the deepest underground lines in the system. Unknowingly, we begin to climb the steps up to the street and discover that there are 10 flights to manage. A group of people ahead of us are huffing and puffing up the climb, and the man in the goup delights in announcing that "It's TEN FLIGHTS, people!" Ugh.

A woman in that group says this, "Le petit dejeuner es fin!"

("My breakfast is over!")

I concur.

We wander amongst the charming shops, cobblestone streets and then to the incredible Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart) Basilica at the top of the hill. Fortunately, for those of us whose feet are not accustomed to all the walking, we are able to take the funiculare to the top.

Sacre Coeur is truly an amazing place. There were performers (musical and non-offensive mime) on the steps in front of the Basilica which only add to its overall charm.

We spend two wonderful hours inside, sitting in the peaceful energy, lighting candles and enjoying the art and relics. It was a gift to be able to spend time in such sacred energy and I now consider it one of my favorite places on the planet.

http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-sacre-coeur

Archangel Michael

The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too.

~Saint Teresa of Avila

Wednesday, October 14th

2009-10-23T06:20:00.000-07:00

A low-key day, which was welcome. We take the bus (finally getting that figured out) back to the Notre Dame area for some scarf shopping (5 Euros for really nice scarves!) and to visit the cathedral one more time. We eat lunch in the park and enjoy the beautifully cool weather.

An odd thing we noticed.....none of the souvenir shops around Notre Dame carry any sort of religious articles. Nearly every shop had goofy little plastic statues of Quasimodo (didn't even know it was him until I picked up the figurine and saw the little hump on his back) and Esmerelda (looking like a tramp), but nothing pertaining to the spiritual nature of the site. Notre Dame itself has a tiny "gift shop" (more like a small counter that too many people were crowded around and pushing to get into), but nothing like Westminster Abbey or even Sacre Coeur.

We stumble across a small newspaper/magazine shop and spy some metal statues of Archangel Michael in the window. Excited, we enter the shop, only to be greeted by a toothless old woman, guarding her possessions. We try to pick up one of the statues (obviously for sale since they all had price stickers on them), but were scolded in French to put them down. I say my standard line, "Parlez-Vous Anglais?" to which the old woman hisses, "NON!"
Alrighty, then!

No purchases were made at this establishment.

We have our last dinner in Paris at one of our favorite corner cafes and enjoy the most heavenly creme brulee ever. Everything just seems to taste better when you are sitting a block away from the Eiffel Tower!

Like any big city, I know that Paris has its dark side, its dirty corners and shady characters, but the overriding impression I take with me is one of welcoming, sincere people who take pride in their sense of style, are quick to laugh and are willing to assist a traveller with the language challenges.

I was struck by the amount of eye contact that was made and the easy smiles. I felt welcomed and at home the entire time and am grateful for all those Parisiennes who made the effort to speak English with us, point us in the right direction when we were lost and feed us excellent food the entire time!

**Merci beaucoup**

Thursday, October 15th

2009-10-22T17:32:00.000-07:00

Our last day in Paris! We begin our re-entry into the American culture by having breakfast at Starbuck's and then returning to the hotel to catch the cab to Charles de Gaulle Airport. We are treated to a white-knuckled, heart-pounding cab ride at the hands of an ancient Chinese driver who apparently had nothing to lose and was free to race like a maniac on meth through wild twists and turns on the freeway. I stopped counting our near-misses with other vehicles and tried to visualize arriving at the airport alive. Which we did.

The flight from Paris to London was lovely and stress-free.....empty seat between us, plenty of leg room, cheerful flight attendants who offer drinks and "savory nibbles". I love the name of this snack and think it might be something exotic, but it turns out to be mixed nuts. We arrive at Heathrow ahead of schedule.....and then the trouble begins.

Long lines at security, strange shuttle rides to some part of another terminal under construction and oddly far away from the rest of the action, an American teenage girl who chattered away to her silent friend ("Like, are we driving to L.A.?""Like, this is way too far, dude.""Like what were we thinking?") as the rest of us envisioned stuffing a sock in her mouth. Tense, sweating people with too much carry-on baggage, and then me being interrogated at the gate because some mysterious code appeared on the computer screen when my boarding pass was scanned that told agents I was a person of suspicion and should be questioned immediately.

I never was told what the problem was, and I did make it across the tarmac and up the steep steps to the awaiting 747, lugging bags stuffed to the brim.

Since I watched too many unrealistic movies in the 1970s, I still have it in my mind that a 747 is going to somehow be the epitome of luxury....like this, perhaps:

****************************************************

But what it turned out to be was more along the lines of this.

This flight was absolutely full to the very last seat. We were seated near an extremely agitated Italian man who was yelling at the flight attendant and juggling his crying baby at the same time (the baby continued to cry for the first three hours of the flight). The air conditioning was not working sufficiently. I downgrade my expectations from scoring a luxurious row of seats all to myself in which I can stretch out and sleep, to mere survival of myself and those around me who might be harmed when I spontaneously combust.

Eleven hours with a headwind, an Irish girl with a bad cold in the seat between us, and the prospect of swollen feet and ankles from the long hours of sitting. The British flight crew is testy, surly and cross with all of us cattle in coach.

We land safely at LAX and practically explode out of the airplane in relief. It was a challenging leg of our journey, but thankfully, with time and perspective, we can now laugh about it all.

I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to take this wonderful trip. The memories will last a lifetime!

We found on our journey, as well as in the places where we stopped, that they treated us with as much confidence and good-will as if they had known us all their lives.

~Junipero Serra

October Sojourn

2009-09-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

An artist has no home in Europe except in Paris.
~Friedrich Nietzsche