La Rentrée– Part 1

We can’t believe that these past 3 1/2 months flew by so quickly.  It seems like only yesterday that we arrived back in Miami from Paris and were driving up to Delray Beach on New Year’s Eve.  But here it is, April 20th and it’s time for our “rentrée” to Paris.

With some trepidation, we went to the airport to board our flight to Paris.  This was sort of a crap shoot.  After 5 days, Eyjafjallajokull was still erupting and Eurocontrol was still restricting all flights.  By the time we got to Miami International, over 20,000 flights had been canceled.  The air carriers were going ballistic.  Hundreds of thousands of passengers were stranded all over the world.  But Lufthansa had said our scheduled flight was leaving so we were packed and ready to go.

And we did…..but not before a 2 hour delay.  The news was reporting that the volcano, after seemingly slowing down for a few hours, had started spewing out even more ash.  Maybe Eurocontrol was reconsidering allowing our flight to leave?  But no, that wasn’t it.  It seems that the canny Germans were checking our jet engines for ash damage!  They were taking videos and still pictures of the engines and sending them back to Frankfurt for analysis.  The German engineers gave us the all-clear.  We knew nothing of all this until we were actually in the air…nor was it explained that the reason for checking the engines was that on take-off from Frankfurt, the jet passed through the ash plume.  What was explained was that every precaution was being taken and that depending upon the ash plume location, “certain landing procedures” might need to be invoked.

“Certain procedures”….now there’s a calming expression.  What they meant was we would be cruising at our normal altitude until we approached Frankfurt airport.  Then, depending upon the location of the plume, we would nose-dive, rapidly, and land.  If any of you are familiar with the landing procedures at San Diego airport or John Wayne airport, then you have some sort of idea of “certain procedures”.

But we made it.  Two hours late but we’re in Europe…..and joining the other hundreds of thousands of passengers who are stranded!  With the exception of the German airports, the rest of western Europe is closed.  No flights to Paris.  Time to figure out how to get to Paris.

Fortunately, our bags were checked through to Paris even if we weren’t.  And once through customs, we could talk to the Lufthansa agents about getting to Paris….which is exactly what we did…we talked to agents but didn’t get any help getting to Paris.  We were on our own.  But we had several things working in our favor.

One, K’s German is pretty fluent.  Two, we didn’t have to worry about schlepping our suitcases all over Europe trying to get to Paris.  And three, we had Lufthansa on the hook for getting us to Paris, or at least covering all or some of the expense.  Well, more on that in a later blog.

So after checking out all our options, we handed over about €400 and boarded an ICE train [the German equivalent of the TGV] to Brussels and then connected to the Thalys train for Paris.  All direct trains and buses to Paris were completely booked.  In fact, our train was so overbooked that it was SRO.  I managed to sit from Frankfurt to Köln but then had to stand for 2 hours to Brussels.  In fact, most of the people on our train were stranded folks trying to get to London.  All trains from Frankfurt to Brussels – booked.  The Eurostar from Paris to London – booked.   We were so overbooked that in Köln they announced that anybody standing had to get off the train and take a bus to Brussels because they felt it wasn’t safe to operate the train.

Well, excuse me mate, but no one was about to give up their SRO to get on a bus that might or might not reach Brussels in time to catch the Eurostar, the Thalys or whatever connecting train we had all paid a fortune for!  So after 20 minutes and no one volunteering and the German conductor threatening us all with grievous bodily harm if someone didn’t get off the train, the train started moving slowly out of Köln (accompanied by much cheering and applause by us passengers).  Herr conductor advised us all that for safety reasons, he would have to operate the train at less than high speed…which meant we would arrive in Brussels 30 minutes late and possibly cause everyone to miss the Eurostar to London.  At the last moment, after keeping everyone on tenterhooks, he finally announced that they had arranged to hold the Eurostar an extra 10 minutes but then told everybody to RUN after de-training!  And, we barely made our Thalys train which then sat for another 30 minutes to allow other passengers from connecting trains to board.  Ah, on to Paris at last! 

But the train trips were enjoyable; everybody exchanging travel horror stories; 2 day business trips lasting 7; total strangers stuck in Budapest agreeing to share a room in order to split the outrageous room charges; or multi-nights sleeping in an air terminal.  We even met several  Glaswegian girls who happened to live only two streets from Katherine’s sister in Netherlee.  Even on our Thalys train to Paris, a fellow passenger who got stuck in New Delhi and managed to get back to Frankfurt, could only make it as far as Paris that night - he lives in Nice so he’s bunking on a cousin’s couch in Paris tonight and will see what travel delights tomorrow brings…

But we’re here.  We’re back at our apartment on rue de la Harpe in the Latin Quarter. This is the same apartment we had last year.  Amazingly, we arrived at the apartment only 7 hours later than originally scheduled.  And after a good night’s sleep we were awakened by a taxi driver who said he was on his way with our luggage.  Who knows, maybe this Paris thing will work out well again???

Paris, December 2009

As 2008 came to a close, we prepared to welcome 2009 with a mix of excitement, trepidation, and hope. We had been planning to move to Paris for a couple of years and with the economy taking a nosedive the reality didn’t look too hopeful. With Obama’s victory we decided we had the “perfect storm” and within 8-10 weeks we signed a lease on our Arlington condo with a wonderful couple who came to D.C. from L.A. to work for Obama. Now we were off and running on our next two tasks...

The first task was to find a place to live in Paris. The second was to get our French up to conversational speed. The latter is a work in progress. On the Paris rental scene, we found many places on the Internet but didn’t want to commit without seeing the neighborhood and the apartment. But it’s amazing how many of your friends know of people who are living in France, just moved back from France, have family in France, or even lived there themselves. To make a long story short, after putting the word out that we really were serious about taking off for an extended stay in Paris, we were put in contact with a friend of a friend and we are now firmly ensconced in his apartment in the “Quartier Latin.”

And we couldn’t have asked for a better location. We are basically at the corner of Blvd. St. Germain and Blvd. St. Michel in the Latin Quarter. We are three minutes from Notre Dame Cathedral and about the same from the Jardin du Luxembourg. We have everything on our doorstep - health club, bank, cinemas, restaurants, the butcher, baker & candlestick maker and a wonderful open-air market on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. During our first week here, Mark’s nephew Erik and his wife Emily were visiting Paris. We spent their last 3 days here together, culminating with dinner at our apartment. Mark’s first [and apparently successful] attempt at Blanquette de Veau...

In a nutshell, that’s the story of our time so far in Paris. Nearly every other week or so, we have had visitors, both family and friends. We’ve been on several trips to “La France Profonde,” including Provence, Dordogne and the Loire Valley. Some of our adventures are described in Mark’s blogs. So rather than bore you with our Paris misadventures, you can go to our blog-site to catch up:……..

And, we hope you enjoy these pictures of Christmas in Paris as much as we did taking them.

We depart Paris on December 31st to spend the cold winter months in sunny Delray Beach, Florida and will return to Paris in the early Spring of 2010 for another extended stay.

With our very best wishes to all our family and friends for a happy and healthy 2010.

Katherine & Mark
53 rue de la Harpe
Paris 75005

     

Notre Dame Cathedral

Eglise St-Severin  [Quartier Latin]

Marché de Noël
[Place St-Sulpice]

Lavender Christmas Ornaments

Restaurant "Au Vieux Paris"
[Île de la Cité]

Eglise St-Sulpice
Christmas Crèche

Mark on the Île St-Louis
avec sa première boule
de neige!








Our private Terrace
after the first snowfall
of the year.

Galeries Lafayette

Mark with Jean-Pierre

his very patient french tutor

Window Display

at Printemps

Rue St-André des Arts

[St-Germain des Prés]

Another Printemps Display

Carousel

[Place de la Concorde]

.....HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND A HEALTHY NEW YEAR....

Mark and Katherine

Mark's eJournal October 22, 2009 – Odds and Sods #4 –The Gentleman’s Club

Katherine’s brother Bobby came to town. It was his 60th birthday in June, so as a present we brought him over to Paris for a visit. Now Bobby and I share similar tastes. We both are enamored of French doors. Separately, we have both been taking pictures of doors. As this picture shows, the doors are huge and beautiful. When I get enough door pictures, I plan on making an album. And for lunch, we like a little wine….well, at least he does….I save it for dinner. But we also enjoy trivial pursuit and Scottish pubs. Katherine and I haven’t really gone to many Paris pubs. Don’t get me wrong, we are single-handedly saving the French wine industry during La Crise Économique. But we have checked out where all the local pubs were, just in case we ran out of wine.

One pub we found was the Highlander…apropos given our heritage [or at least their heritage]. And to our great surprise, they had a pub quiz on Sunday nights. Without going into details, we came in second and won free shots of whiskey. And if it wasn’t for all those French questions like “what color is the number 4 Metro line and the name of its ending stations”, we would have come in first. But Bobby needed a pub with music, with characters, with life, and most of all, with cheap Guinness. And he found it. The Gentleman. Easily within walking distance of our flat, sober or not.

Now by himself, Bobby is a very friendly guy. He makes friends with everybody. Paris is no exception. And he makes important friends, like with the bouncer, Ahmed. This friendship ensured that no matter how crowded the Gentleman got, we were always allowed entry. It also allowed Bobby easy access to all parts of the pub especially where the music was playing. And the group [or should I say duo] that were playing were great. For a couple of acoustic guitars, they sounded great.

And I didn’t have any problems making friends with the locals either. I never met this guy, Vladimir, before but he and his friends loved Americans [or maybe just me]. Anyway, they were having this drink which looked very special. I think it’s called a B-52. I watched as he and his friends appeared to “snort” the flaming drink. Apparently, I was obvious so Vlad bought me one. Not to be outdone, I reciprocated…..twice. Not because I felt obligated but because Katherine didn’t really get a good first picture. Needless to say, I didn’t mind the retake. And for those interested few, here’s how you make one of these B-52s:

In a large shot glass layer Kahlua, Bailey’s, and then Grand Marnier.

In our case, the bartender used a tiny bent sugar spoon to pour each layer onto. This ensured three distinct layers. Then he ignited the Grand Marnier. Hence the reason the picture looks like we are snorting the drink….you suck the whole flaming drink [as in "on fire"] in one suck from the bottom using a straw.....hence the expression, bottom's up???

Needless to say, we all had a great time and we look forward to Bobby taking us through more pub crawls in Paris.

Mark's eJournal November 12, 2009 – Odds and Sods #5 – Le Tabac

It’s been awhile since my last eJ. No, it’s not that I don’t have anything to write about. Rather, September, October, and soon, November, have just been a blur with all the visitors we’ve had and trips we’ve taken. It started in September with Lynda and Ross visiting for a week. Then we left for 10 days for the States for our friend’s daughter’s big fat Greek wedding. Then Katherine’s brother Bobby came for a 10-day visit followed by my Glasgow University basketball buddy, Mike and his wife Hazel and son Grant. Then we left for Le Dordogne to meet up with our DC friends Peggy and Peter, whom we drove back to Paris with and spent a long weekend. Less than one week later, Katherine’s longtime friend, Liz and her husband Mike came for a visit. And sometime in there, Adriana [the big fat Greek wedding bride] came for a visit. November isn’t even over and we still have Katherine’s niece Kirsty and her boyfriend Graham and our DC friends, George and Doris, all circling the landing strip for a Paris visit.

Whew. Now I’m not complaining. The only bad thing about all these visitors is…..well, there really isn’t anything bad; just no time left over for writing blogs. The only good thing about all these visitors is….well, there are really lots of good things but my favorite is looking at Paris through their eyes; seeing things that I might have overlooked or never even noticed.

For example, Bobby fell off the wagon. He had given up smoking for a few months but I guess the French accent got to him. Studying French in Glasgow did his head in and he started to take a few puffs. By the time he got to Paris, he was out of smokes. And since Katherine and I are smoke-free, Bobby had to go out into the streets of Paris and fend for himself.

Now I knew that in France, you buy your cigarettes in a tobacco shop [Le Tabac]; not a supermarket or a pub. They’re all over the place but I really didn’t know exactly where the closest one was. In fact, I hadn’t even been inside a Tabac since I got to Paris. I didn’t even know what to look for except to peer into a store window and look for packs of cigarettes. And that’s where Bobby's new eyes come into play.

For the first time, Bobby pointed out the one exterior identifying feature of all Tabac’s. Their lozenge-shaped sign. And if you look at all the pictures in this blog, that’s them. They are all different yet similar. Kinda like the three balls in front of all pawnshops or, for us old folks, that barbershop pole...at least in the olde days.

So there you have it. I’ve seen these red, diamond-shaped, illuminated signs all over Paris, all over France. I never made the connection. So to all of you who are planning to visit us and to all of you who have visited us, stayed tuned for more revelations as I see Paris through your eyes.

October 17, 2009 – Odds and Sods #3 – La Poubelle???

My garbage can got arrested today. Our doorbell rang. Not the interior doorbell which sounds like a poor man’s cheap alarm clock and which we don’t have a clue about so that when it rings we pick up every phone, cellphone, and electronic gadget in our apartment before we realize it’s our front door… No, this was the exterior doorbell that has the video camera attached. I ran to the screen and saw that this guy was a complete stranger. I buzzed him in anyway and ran down the stairs to meet him.

Clearly my French must be getting a little better because he didn’t speak English and he was asking me questions completely out of my frame of reference. Apparently, he was from the Mairie de Paris [the mayor’s office of our arrondissement]. Somehow, the Mairie was informed that we had an illegal garbage can [la poubelle]. Apparently, all garbage cans are registered with the Mairie de Paris. Apparently our green garbage can is supposed to be blue. He was here to check on the registration number of our garbage can! Apparently every garbage can has a registration number.

What makes this very strange indeed, is that our garbage can is inside our hallway which is locked. And then it is inside a locked closet inside our hallway. I opened the closet and the agent marked down the garbage can number. He checked it against his piece of paper with the supposed registration number of our garbage can. It did not match. Busted. We have an illegal garbage can!

Now the questioning, in French, moved to who lives here, who is responsible for the illegal garbage can, yadda yadda yadda? Yes, I live here but I only rent. The owner, he lives in the States. I have a concierge but she lives in the Marais. I don’t think she has a clue about the illegal garbage can. But, wait, we do have a local concierge or person who cleans the common areas and takes care of the garbage. Would you like me to take you to her? Follow me.

I took him to our local concierge, Maria; a 70+ year old woman who lives a few doors down from us. I left after he rang the bell; no need for me to stick around. I don’t know what happened after that. I think our garbage can got arrested and is doing 5 to 10 in the Bastille. Actually, I think they are just registering our dustbin’s number. I don’t really care because what was really important to me is that I actually understood the French the agent spoke to me….and vice versa. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying I am fluent in French; not even close. All I am saying is that today, without any help, I was able to successfully communicate with a local official about an off-the-wall subject.

October 15, 2009 – Odds and Sods #2 – The Mean Streets of Paris

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean the unsafe or dangerous streets of Paris. Sure any major city has its share of lovers, muggers and thieves. Hold onto your wallet in the crowded streets that attract tourists to protect yourself from either pick-pockets or scammers selling you gold rings that they found at your feet. No, I mean “look both ways before you cross the street” dangerous.

Paris is one of the most densely populated major metropolitan cities in the world. I mean Paris proper; those 20 arrondissements that the true Parisian considers Paris….not unlike what we New Yorkers consider New York [Manhattan] or a DC’er considers DC [inside the beltway]. True Paris is crowded. Inside true Paris, you buy or rent your flat very close to where you work. You don’t have a car. You use public transport for a stop or two or walk. Sure, you give up living space. A large Paris flat is about as small as what we are living just now, 53 sq.m. [570 sq.ft]. And about 40 percent of the folks live alone!... Don’t get me started on that one….that is material for another blog and why the French all have pets or why there are so many little parks dotted all around Paris.

But public transportation is the rule, although as I observe on my daily run, it’s hard to tell. The traffic in Paris is horrible [and the driver’s are super aggressive]. I think that’s why the city planners came up with an ingenious way to improve traffic flow. One-way streets. Sure, all major cities have one-way streets but not quite like Paris.

Yes, DC [and maybe some other cities] have timed one-way streets [like Rock Creek Park] where during rush hour, the entire roadway is one way or the other. And some other cities have bridges, roadways, or streets that have moving Jersey barriers or are just simply sign-posted to say "in the AM three of these five lanes are in-bound" and "in the PM three of these five lanes are out-bound". But the French have taken it to a new level.

For example, Boulevard St. Michel is a 4-lane street. At one point, it was 2 lanes each way. The city planners decided to make it a one-way street. Then they decided to make one lane dedicated to public transportation and taxis (and bicycles). This is a good idea and not something new. Britain, for example, has been doing this for years. Except in Britain, the dedicated public transportation lanes have been repaved in bright bold red tarmacadam. I know this because I have been pulled over by a friendly Bobby or two who explained to me the difference between the dark black tarmacadam and the red tarmacadam.

However, the Paris city planners decided to make one of the public transportation lanes on St. Michel [and other main streets] travel in the opposite direction from the other three lanes. !!! This is still a good idea except that this one lane is not paved in red tarmacadam. All that is marked on the street is “Danger a Gauche”. So as you are looking to your right onto the three lanes of traffic bearing down on you, that five ton bus coming the opposite way up the “one-way” street has your name on it, en francais!!! Luckily Katherine has snatched me from this perilous situation several times, although she is certain that I am going to “buy it” one of these days when I am out wandering the streets of Paris on my own, sans chaperone…

October 14, 2009 – Odds and Sods #1 – A Tree Grows in …….

I can’t believe it. We are well into our 6th month living in Paris. And my familiarity with Paris has grown so much that it is hard to find the words to fill a blog or eJournal. Don’t get me wrong. I still pinch myself when I run past the Notre Dame Cathedral or get a couple of French “air-kisses” from my local boucherie when I buy my weekly meat from her open-air market stall. So I have decided to write about those little things that catch my eye. Yes, to be sure, there will be eJournal-worthy blogs to come but, for now, as I settle into an actual life in Paris, the big things that knock my socks off, are fewer and far between. But it’s the little things that catch my eye.

For example, on the block between our apartment and our fitness club, is a tree stump. It’s been there since we arrived. I must pass it at least twice a day; more when Katherine drags me out for a walk in the quartier. There are several full grown trees on this block in front of Place de Cluny but this one must have been hit by a car or bus.

I always remember this stump, which I named Brück-Lin and is ancien francais for stump. It just seemed odd that this stump remained. That the Mairie de Paris didn’t just gouge it out and plant a new tree. And then, one day, on the stump where the bark had come away and all that was left was that large smooth oval of under wood that, as a kid, I thought was the mouth of a tree, some artist had painted a face.

And not just any face. It was a sad face. And for emphasis, he drew one large tear falling from its eye. The tree was dead but the artist’s picture gave it life. Where else but Paris would some artist take the time to spruce up [forget the pun] this lifeless stump?

And so, for months, I would walk past Brück-Lin and smile at her painted face. Then, about four weeks ago, voilá, it sprang back to life. Little branches and leaves started sprouting. It was a sight to behold. The branches grew, more leaves appeared. There was life in this old stump after all. But last week…..another one of those massive, French, “we-have-nothing-else-to-do” parades occurred. And when I say “nothing else to do parades”, I mean that. Sure, we had the World War II parade; the Gay Pride parade; the Roller Blade parade; the best cheese in Paris parade [okay, I might be exaggerating] but the “we’re opening a new radio station” parade??? Give me a break.

And what made it even more surreal….it was larger than any of the other parades!! Tens of thousands of drunken French youths, dancing, drinking, smoking [yes], taking off their clothes [okay, that part wasn’t all that bad], puking, peeing, and standing on anything that would give them a better view of the parade….well, Brück-Lin just didn’t stand a chance.

I walked to the club the following day. Those newly sprouted limbs and leaves….gone. That tear in her eye…fitting, once again. Smashed and broken, she was a sorry sight. Katherine and I both thought she was mulch. But today, as we walked to the club, life was stirring. Just over her right “ear” was a bolt of green. I can’t promise she will live. You never know what other important parades Paris will have. But I can tell you this, a tree named Brück-Lin grows in Paris…