Getting a rheum in Paris, then Django Fest week in Fontainebleau
Aug 14th, 2015, 06:38 PM
#61
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2006
Posts: 5,613
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Returning from Fontainebleau we got to the Gare du Nord by 1330, plenty of time for our 1510 Eurostar. It had gotten increasingly hot the few previous days, was predicted 103F/39.5C in Paris that day. As we walked towards the Hall of London, we noticed a large immobile crowd at the foot of the escalator. Bob edged forward until he learned that trains between Paris and London were stopped by demonstrations on the tracks, and that we would know within an hour whether there would be any that day. Well!
We found an out of the way spot to pile ourseles, and dug into a bag of gleainings from the refrigerator: bread, a chunk of Conté, fruit from the market. People stepped over our legs sometimes, so we weren't as out of the way as we'd thought. We sent out scouting parties of one, and eventually word came back that there'd be no trains the rest of the day. I felt that eventually we would sympathise with the demonstrators, but at that moment we favored tough measures: grab them by the scruffs of their necks and place them elsewhere, whatever their petty complaints. (Later I did sympathise.)
The Eurostar people dealt with the crowd in a patient and professional way, handing out leaflets that explained our options for getting replacement tickets, and compensation for the night stranded -- quel dommage -- in Paris. I envisioned many hundreds of warm bodies trying to squeeze themselves into surely only a few available mext-day seats if that, resulting in a missed early morning flight the following day. So I made getting tickets a priority.
Hannah got on her laptop and started looking for lodging after Bob walked around the Gare du Nord area seeing what was available. Hannah had tried the Eurostar website, which was down for the count, so I listened to their recorded phone message many times on my mobile phone as hundreds of us inched towards the stopped escalator where a few at a time were allowed to ascend and exchange tickets in person. It was hot in the station, of course, and we were all in a similar uncomfortable boat, but civility, even politesse, prevailed.
Finally, a cheerful voice in my native tongue, and he got us on a midmorning train. O blessed fonctionnaire of a sceptered isle, a demi-paradise! I left the queue and found H waiting for permission to book us at the Hotel Pas de Calais in St-Germain. By all means; at that moment if she'd suggested Georges V or the Ritz or some such I'd have handed her a credit card and told her to make it so.
We found an out of the way spot to pile ourseles, and dug into a bag of gleainings from the refrigerator: bread, a chunk of Conté, fruit from the market. People stepped over our legs sometimes, so we weren't as out of the way as we'd thought. We sent out scouting parties of one, and eventually word came back that there'd be no trains the rest of the day. I felt that eventually we would sympathise with the demonstrators, but at that moment we favored tough measures: grab them by the scruffs of their necks and place them elsewhere, whatever their petty complaints. (Later I did sympathise.)
The Eurostar people dealt with the crowd in a patient and professional way, handing out leaflets that explained our options for getting replacement tickets, and compensation for the night stranded -- quel dommage -- in Paris. I envisioned many hundreds of warm bodies trying to squeeze themselves into surely only a few available mext-day seats if that, resulting in a missed early morning flight the following day. So I made getting tickets a priority.
Hannah got on her laptop and started looking for lodging after Bob walked around the Gare du Nord area seeing what was available. Hannah had tried the Eurostar website, which was down for the count, so I listened to their recorded phone message many times on my mobile phone as hundreds of us inched towards the stopped escalator where a few at a time were allowed to ascend and exchange tickets in person. It was hot in the station, of course, and we were all in a similar uncomfortable boat, but civility, even politesse, prevailed.
Finally, a cheerful voice in my native tongue, and he got us on a midmorning train. O blessed fonctionnaire of a sceptered isle, a demi-paradise! I left the queue and found H waiting for permission to book us at the Hotel Pas de Calais in St-Germain. By all means; at that moment if she'd suggested Georges V or the Ritz or some such I'd have handed her a credit card and told her to make it so.
Aug 15th, 2015, 07:14 AM
#62
I left the queue and found H waiting for permission to book us at the Hotel Pas de Calais in St-Germain. By all means; at that moment if she'd suggested Georges V or the Ritz or some such I'd have handed her a credit card and told her to make it so.>>
shame you missed out on the Georges V, stoke. we have only been there once, and that for lunch but the experience lives with me still.
shame you missed out on the Georges V, stoke. we have only been there once, and that for lunch but the experience lives with me still.
Aug 15th, 2015, 02:46 PM
#65
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2006
Posts: 5,613
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
That would have been for two of their basic budget rooms, Ann, since there were three of us. Is there free coffee in the lobby? I may never know.
We could have tried for the Royal Suite at Georges V with two bedrooms, or the Presidential Suite, and apparently you can get two bedrooms in the Empire Suite, with Napoleon and Josephine decor. They don't post prices for those suites online, so I don't know how much money we saved by staying at the Pas de Calais. And it's not just the money; I don't feel that billionaires are really Our People.
We got into the efficient Gare du Nord taxicab queue, having run the gauntlet of nonauthorized cab offers. Just before it was our turn a man bypassed the queue and made the universal greed sign at a waiting cab by rubbing his thumb against his first two fingers. Cabbie rolled down window, the American asked how much to CDG, they reached an agreement and the man started to climb in when a vigilant cab director intevened. To our satisfaction, Cheater Man was told to take his place at the end of the line.
We bombed down to St-Germain in our cab, windows down, past sights I hadn't necessarily expected to see again ever: Galleries Lafayette. Opera Garnier. The Louvre. Pont de Carrousel. The good old Seine. Bob would have preferred an air-conditioned cab, since it was still over 100F, and a less crazed driver, but so what? We were zipping through the middle of things, we had rooms waiting for us, and we had another night in Paris.
We like Hotel Pas de Calais a lot. It's family owned, with excellent staff. Three stars seems not enough. The lobby is an atrium with skylights and a wall of orchids, and on that afternoon they had the AC cranked to "Frigid." This was more like it.
We could have tried for the Royal Suite at Georges V with two bedrooms, or the Presidential Suite, and apparently you can get two bedrooms in the Empire Suite, with Napoleon and Josephine decor. They don't post prices for those suites online, so I don't know how much money we saved by staying at the Pas de Calais. And it's not just the money; I don't feel that billionaires are really Our People.
We got into the efficient Gare du Nord taxicab queue, having run the gauntlet of nonauthorized cab offers. Just before it was our turn a man bypassed the queue and made the universal greed sign at a waiting cab by rubbing his thumb against his first two fingers. Cabbie rolled down window, the American asked how much to CDG, they reached an agreement and the man started to climb in when a vigilant cab director intevened. To our satisfaction, Cheater Man was told to take his place at the end of the line.
We bombed down to St-Germain in our cab, windows down, past sights I hadn't necessarily expected to see again ever: Galleries Lafayette. Opera Garnier. The Louvre. Pont de Carrousel. The good old Seine. Bob would have preferred an air-conditioned cab, since it was still over 100F, and a less crazed driver, but so what? We were zipping through the middle of things, we had rooms waiting for us, and we had another night in Paris.
We like Hotel Pas de Calais a lot. It's family owned, with excellent staff. Three stars seems not enough. The lobby is an atrium with skylights and a wall of orchids, and on that afternoon they had the AC cranked to "Frigid." This was more like it.
Aug 15th, 2015, 05:11 PM
#66
Join Date: Aug 2008
Posts: 2,989
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
STOKE,
MATHIEU says it all - "Stokebailey, once again, I love your style and your way with words, and am loving your report more and more with every chapter."
You really are a gifted writer - goes with your artistic talent no doubt. Really enjoyed those lovely portraits of your girls on that link. Hope you have more time in the future to continue with your art work.
Continuing to enjoy your adventures....
MATHIEU says it all - "Stokebailey, once again, I love your style and your way with words, and am loving your report more and more with every chapter."
You really are a gifted writer - goes with your artistic talent no doubt. Really enjoyed those lovely portraits of your girls on that link. Hope you have more time in the future to continue with your art work.
Continuing to enjoy your adventures....
Aug 16th, 2015, 06:03 AM
#68
That would have been for two of their basic budget rooms, Ann, since there were three of us. Is there free coffee in the lobby? I may never know.>>
I don't know either, stoke, but at €2000 per room that seems a tad steep for me too.
The hotel that you did stay at sounds like a real find - I shall try to remember it for our next stay in Paris.
I don't know either, stoke, but at €2000 per room that seems a tad steep for me too.
The hotel that you did stay at sounds like a real find - I shall try to remember it for our next stay in Paris.
Aug 19th, 2015, 08:22 PM
#70
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2006
Posts: 5,613
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Aw, thank you lateday! Coquelicot, that is so kind. I'm hoping to start my memoirs sometime soon, at my older daughter's request. Every once in awhile I throw out an autobiographical fact that surprises her.
Ann, tell them I sent you.
The last night was fun, kovsie, after we got past one of those marital potholes:
We had an aperitif outdoors at the corner of Rue des Saints-Peres and St-Germain, where Bob and I had a disagreement about how to get both of his guitars home. Bob thought that Hannah should take his old guitar to our cousins' house in London northern suburbs along with her own large suitcase, on the tube, and stash it there while she traveled around Europe for six weeks. Then when she came home in August to apply for her student visa she could bring him the guitar, which she was willing to do because she's a good daughter.
I ended up saying fine, whatever, and flouncing back the room to cool off. Meanwhile Bob also cooled off, in record time, and the three of us set off in harmony to explore the neighborhood.
(Upshot of guitar controversy: we each carried one, checked my suitcase, got home just fine with everything including the BHV folding stool I was able to get into my bag. The customs problem Bob feared never happened. Our cousins were in Ireland this week when Hannah stopped through London, so she could not have gotten the guitar.
I thought we resembled maybe a traveling folk duo. One woman in Toronto guessed bluegrass, to Bob's chagrin.)
Ann, tell them I sent you.
The last night was fun, kovsie, after we got past one of those marital potholes:
We had an aperitif outdoors at the corner of Rue des Saints-Peres and St-Germain, where Bob and I had a disagreement about how to get both of his guitars home. Bob thought that Hannah should take his old guitar to our cousins' house in London northern suburbs along with her own large suitcase, on the tube, and stash it there while she traveled around Europe for six weeks. Then when she came home in August to apply for her student visa she could bring him the guitar, which she was willing to do because she's a good daughter.
I ended up saying fine, whatever, and flouncing back the room to cool off. Meanwhile Bob also cooled off, in record time, and the three of us set off in harmony to explore the neighborhood.
(Upshot of guitar controversy: we each carried one, checked my suitcase, got home just fine with everything including the BHV folding stool I was able to get into my bag. The customs problem Bob feared never happened. Our cousins were in Ireland this week when Hannah stopped through London, so she could not have gotten the guitar.
I thought we resembled maybe a traveling folk duo. One woman in Toronto guessed bluegrass, to Bob's chagrin.)
Aug 24th, 2015, 08:15 PM
#72
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2006
Posts: 5,613
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Life is too short to be at odds with each other, especially in Paris.
WE HAD DINNER, WE SLEPT COOL, WE MADE OUR TRAIN.
St-Germain is a shop-intensive street. Google Map shows mostly little purse icons, an occasional euro symbol, near Hotel Pas de Calais. We tried, and failed, to imagine ever wearing the clothes in most of the windows. Sonia Rykiel windows were stacked high with books to distract attention, I theorized, from the clothing.
Bob wanted to walk to the Eiffel Tower. We struck out west on rd Grenelle, which felt like a boring sunbaked canyon of government ministries and closed portals, and too much like a forced march. The heat got to us, and we turned around.
Hannah found us a brasserie for dinner, the delightful Vagenende, a few blocks east on St-Germain. www.vagenende.com. Mirrored belle-époque elegance. I got the weekly Monday special, aile de raie aux câpres. My my. That was some melt-in-the-mouth skate wing, and only 19.80 euros. Also, because I can never get it here, crème brûlée. Bob and H were also very pleased with their selections. We shared a bottle of something white, French, and reasonably priced. Hannah, who worked as a restaurant hostess during university, shared her tip on which wine to order when you didn't want to spend much but wanted something good. I think she said go for the second least expensive in the desired category. (Unless it was something else; must clarify that with her.) After dinner we strolled up to the river for a last look at the Pont Neuf, taking in the scene.
The next morning, our Eurostar seats were first class. A person could get used to that sort of thing. They treated us well. I stuck to my French with the nice young men who served us breakfast, now that I was finally warmed up on the language.
When we got to London, we learned that they had rented our room to people stuck on that side of the tunnel, so we weren't charged. Good fortune abounding.
Many thanks to anyone who has skimmed this far, and happy travels to you all.
WE HAD DINNER, WE SLEPT COOL, WE MADE OUR TRAIN.
St-Germain is a shop-intensive street. Google Map shows mostly little purse icons, an occasional euro symbol, near Hotel Pas de Calais. We tried, and failed, to imagine ever wearing the clothes in most of the windows. Sonia Rykiel windows were stacked high with books to distract attention, I theorized, from the clothing.
Bob wanted to walk to the Eiffel Tower. We struck out west on rd Grenelle, which felt like a boring sunbaked canyon of government ministries and closed portals, and too much like a forced march. The heat got to us, and we turned around.
Hannah found us a brasserie for dinner, the delightful Vagenende, a few blocks east on St-Germain. www.vagenende.com. Mirrored belle-époque elegance. I got the weekly Monday special, aile de raie aux câpres. My my. That was some melt-in-the-mouth skate wing, and only 19.80 euros. Also, because I can never get it here, crème brûlée. Bob and H were also very pleased with their selections. We shared a bottle of something white, French, and reasonably priced. Hannah, who worked as a restaurant hostess during university, shared her tip on which wine to order when you didn't want to spend much but wanted something good. I think she said go for the second least expensive in the desired category. (Unless it was something else; must clarify that with her.) After dinner we strolled up to the river for a last look at the Pont Neuf, taking in the scene.
The next morning, our Eurostar seats were first class. A person could get used to that sort of thing. They treated us well. I stuck to my French with the nice young men who served us breakfast, now that I was finally warmed up on the language.
When we got to London, we learned that they had rented our room to people stuck on that side of the tunnel, so we weren't charged. Good fortune abounding.
Many thanks to anyone who has skimmed this far, and happy travels to you all.
Aug 24th, 2015, 09:06 PM
#73
Hannah, who worked as a restaurant hostess during university, shared her tip on which wine to order when you didn't want to spend much but wanted something good. I think she said go for the second least expensive in the desired category. (Unless it was something else; must clarify that with her.)>>
stoke - I've read/heard that elsewhere and it usually works for us too. Glad you sorted out your marital "pothole" - great word for it. and first class back to London? - tres posh! what luck to avoid paying for your London room too - the travel gods were smiling on you this time!
stoke - I've read/heard that elsewhere and it usually works for us too. Glad you sorted out your marital "pothole" - great word for it. and first class back to London? - tres posh! what luck to avoid paying for your London room too - the travel gods were smiling on you this time!
Aug 25th, 2015, 07:07 AM
#74
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 29,617
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Very enjoyable, stokebailey! Sorry to read you were delayed in returning but glad it worked out.
And thanks for the link to your portraits--the child at the piano was my fave.
Can you do a blog for your art? Here's mine for the gallery where I enter work each year: http://donnarhody.blogspot.com/
And thanks for the link to your portraits--the child at the piano was my fave.
Can you do a blog for your art? Here's mine for the gallery where I enter work each year: http://donnarhody.blogspot.com/
Sep 7th, 2015, 06:22 AM
#76
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2006
Posts: 5,613
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
TD, I've admired your blog several times. Wow. Lovely photos and the very fun copper leaf. Thanks so much for that.
It would take a few leaps for me to try something similar. One is a tech leap, since I've never quite got the hang of digitally photographing my paintings.
Another would be not having a hide thick enough for rejection. I go to art fairs and see the artists stand there with all those people glancing at their work, maybe a grunt or something, and walking on. How can they stand it?
For me the value of sketching and painting is sitting still and looking at something. When I get home and look at the sketches in my journal it brings it all back.
It would take a few leaps for me to try something similar. One is a tech leap, since I've never quite got the hang of digitally photographing my paintings.
Another would be not having a hide thick enough for rejection. I go to art fairs and see the artists stand there with all those people glancing at their work, maybe a grunt or something, and walking on. How can they stand it?
For me the value of sketching and painting is sitting still and looking at something. When I get home and look at the sketches in my journal it brings it all back.
