http://tinyurl.com/ak3p9jt
(These are all MC's photos still.)

Churches in Paris

For those of you who might have wondered whether midnight mass on Notre Dame's 800th anniversary was a hot ticket, I have the answers for you: Yes. Very.

http://tinyurl.com/a34xzuz

We got back to Rue du Foin Christmas Eve after our evening at the Champs Elysees Christmas Market and looking at the windows along Boul. Hausmann. Around 22:00 I realized it was time for the first of the musical events at Notre Dame, and that furthermore I hadn't seen the river yet. I wanted at least to see what was going on down there. The rest of us, out of fatigue and/or anti-religiousness, declined to go.

I took the brisk 15 minute walk to the Cathedral. As I approached around 22:30 I saw a large grandstand facing the facade, two queues snaking down both sides, hundreds of people in each. Walking along the lines was Babel-like, with all the languages. Realizing I would not be peeking inside that night, I climbed up the mostly empty stands to enjoy an eye-level view of martyrs and saints. An immense screen to the right showed the interior, pews filled. Every once in awhile a few people would trickle out, then 20 or so from alternate queues would be allowed in.

At quarter till eleven, an important-looking cleric appeared on the screen to tell us about the solemn occasion and ask those inside to turn off mobile phones. Then a mixed voice choir began to sing, angel-like. As the stands got more and more crowded, and I decided to leave.

I walked back to the early 1600's Jesuit church St.-Paul-St.-Louis on Rue St.-Antoine, with the blue clock face. A handful of faithful, presumably, sat in the gloom and listened to Bach on the organ. I inhaled the atmosphere for awhile, lit a candle, and walked home. My youngest was relieved I'd made it back.

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Christmas Day, after breakfast, we all visited St-P-St-L, joined the throngs outside Notre Dame and tried to decipher the statuary, then south across to St.-Germain-des-Prés, St.-Sulpice, and finally beautiful ancient St. Séverin. ( That was the day H saw Halle Berry and her fiancé strolling through the Rue de Buci.)

Each church had its own prominently displayed creche. At St.-Sulpice the Delacroix paintings were too dimly lit to appreciate, and one of them was in the process of being restored.

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I have an aversion to Sacre-Coeur for some reason. Maybe it's the crowds.

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We were there on a Saturday at dusk, and the patio was jammed. We filed dutifully into the church, one way clockwise with young red-jacketed men loudly shushing the tourists. I sat near the entrance. Seated just in front of me an American couple must have taken a photo, because a young African attendant squatted down at eye level to tell the woman why such a thing was wrong: "Tomorrow you'll be dead, and I'll be dead, and your picture will mean nothing. But the Holy Virgin who is eternal will know, and will be sad, because this is sacred here." He was gentle and beautiful, and my favorite thing about the place.

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H. wanted a fedora after we spotted this couple.

SHOPPING IN PARIS

I can't make myself shop much, and didn't want to acquire baggage, but I got a fine lightweight scarf from a Richard Lenoir market vendor. It's beautiful deep navy blue cashmere, and I've worn it every day since.

Bob has wanted a pair of Gov Denim jeans since spotting them on several jazz manouche musicians, so when the girls wanted to go to Galerie Lafayette on New Year's Eve we decided to all at least look in there. I wanted a peek at the stained glass dome and the view from the roof. Oh, my, the crowds though. Entering the ground floor was not unlike shuffling around Sacré-Coeur: shoppers of the world united. We paused for awhile at the well-stocked book department and then climbed to the roof: grey Paris lay at our feet, and the rear of Opera Garnier. Worth the effort. I walked Bob over to the men's store, made arrangements to meet the girls in the Latin Quarter, and escaped.

The girls bought a few things on Boul Hausmann, but the truly worthwhile finds were from Marais vintage shops. MC needed boots, and by patiently rummaging the piles at Free P Star she got a well cared-for pair of tall black Bally ones for 10 euros.

Free P Star has two Marais shops, and I also liked a vintage store on r.d. Tournelles, half a block south of Rue Pas de la Mule. Can't remember the name right now. The proprietress was effusively friendly when I looked in once, and then almost amusingly rude when H and I went back later. (Should I have asked her permission every time I approached another rack? Was I the rude one?)

H and I traveled to the 16th one day to check out the used designer clothes at Réciproque, rue de la Pompe. That was kind of fun, and fashionista H enjoyed it. Crazy overpriced, though several young Asian girls tried on party dresses with evident intention to buy. Used shoes, some red-soled, for hundreds of dollars. An ordinary wool cardigan rendered precious by the Chanel logo. I am label averse, so don't mind my opinion here. We refreshed ourselves with tea near the Trocadero.

The Marché aux Puces St-Ouen was closer to my taste. A coworker wanted a franc note, so I bought her a 500 fr one here.

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MC took this while the market vendor was scolding someone else for taking his picture. Sorry, sir.

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Bob still hasn't purchased the Gov Denim jeans, luckily available online.

TOURIST THINGS IN PARIS I'D HAVE BEEN FINE SKIPPING

One big one anyway:

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Christmas night, after a day wandering through churches and the Latin Quarter, then dinner at the flat, we took a bus to the Eiffel Tower. I'd thought there would be ice skating somewhere around, but never found it. We walked underneath and speculated about the scaffolding rising through the base: something about a fabulous new etage with a glass floor. I"m fine with glimpsing from a distance unexpectedly.

TOURIST THINGS I DIDN'T THINK I'D ENJOY, BUT DID

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If you can call a working cemetery touristic. The girls and I walked to Pere Lachaise after Belleville market Friday morning, found it moving and beautiful. H wanted to find Oscar Wilde's grave, so I told them as much as I could remember about his last couple of years, not accurately including his excellent last words. The lipstick marks are scrubbed, plexiglass fence in place, and someone had lipstick kissed a piece of paper and thrown it over.

We found Heloise and Abelard's fairly easily down near an entrance. Now their's is another interesting tale.

Here's another couple -- men, in this case -- united in death. I can't remember why or how.

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We ran by Musee Carnavalet our last morning, enjoyed it very much. Roses bloomed in the courtyard.

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I'd thought there would be ice skating somewhere around, but never found it.>>

you needed to be over to at the Hotel de Ville, Stoke. We found the rink by chance when we were wandering around one evening; the skating was pretty aggressive and even if I could skate, I think I'd have wimped out.

Intriguing report, Stokebailey. I was hoping that we would hear from you and I feel very sympatico. MC’s photos are superb.... love her sense of 'the moment’. I especially liked the young girl lighting candles, the oyster sellers on rue de Turenne, woman in a white fur coat, girl in a fedora and, one shot of Village Bercy? Her artistry is, I think, a legacy from her mother.

Sounds like a fabulous trip, very eclectic and fresh in what and how you experienced Paris. Loved this,

>>Bob was in his blissful cloud several days there, going out again solo to La Chope des Puces and tracking down an apartment where Django had once lived, and then visiting a master guitar maker -- display featured at Cité de la Musique -- where he played his dream 7,000 euro instrument. <<< Perfect.

And your visits to the second hand clothing shops...one day I’ll do a day visit to them all, as Bob did with his music. Not that I’m that into clothing, but love the approach, the history of fashion, the prices...the sense of a world within larger worlds. Like you, I was never that enthralled with the Eiffel tower or Sacre Coeur. But, Pere Lachaise fascinated me (after 5 trips I finally went and loved it). Here is a long and lovely video about it, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBxywsQnVRQ

For me, where I stay is important, even if I’m out 8-12 hours a day. Your apartment is beautiful! What a great find!...love the bookshelves (!), the area…
>>"that little courtyard", but never tired of hanging out there. Almost every morning<<

….nor did I. One month I stayed on rue de la Roquette and began each day with breakfast at Place des Vosges, sampling each café as I planned what I might do.

It sounds as though you did some sketches while there. Beautiful. Thank you!

Hi, Ann. We passed Hotel de Ville several times, but never stopped to watch the skaters close up. Our skating interest was strictly the spectator kind.

I hope to get a chance tomorrow to tell about Middle Temple Hall, which H and I enjoyed so much.

CopperandJade, I am honored to be simpatico with you. What a thoughtful and kind post.

I love the video.

How fine to spend a month as you did on rdl Roquette, and what a way to start each morning. I'd love to hang out at Cafe Hugo and eavesdrop on the regulars' joshing. I did a sketch there a couple of mornings, before going back to the apartment to throw open the shutters and wake the sleepers.

I hope to get a chance tomorrow to tell about Middle Temple Hall, which H and I enjoyed so much.>>

what a tease you are, Stoke.

can't wait!

Oh, HA, Ann! I've been trying to be all fancy and include MC's photos, but my PC can't handle all that info. Dtr H commandeered the Mac for school work today just as I was limbering up my typing fingers.

FRANCE: RANDOM THOUGHTS
People who enter a business, ask things like: "What time do you close?" and then seem perplexed not to get an answer in English, all seem to be from the US. Fellow countrypersons, please make an effort.

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My current fantasy of a month in Paris involves sitting in Cafe Hugo every morning as soon as they open, nursing an espresso or two and reading a chapter or two of Liu's nicely translated Hunchback of Notre-Dame, then walking over the the cathedral and soaking up the atmosphere. Liu says, "Architecture is the real hero of the novel." That's a fun way to read the book.

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I like how the French appreciate beauty. Not just the womanly kind.

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We often revolved around the Place de la Bastille. What golden creature tops that column? Maybe the spirit of Liberty. One day I noticed a Japanese tour group taking photos of an ordinary looking building there: the site of the Bastille, long ago leveled.

So, for us farewell to Paris. It's been fun.

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(H admires graffiti.)

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LEAVING TOWN
I got Bob on the train early to CDG at Gare du Nord, then returned to the Bastille Metro. An official stopped me there, requesting my ticket. Typically I bend and shove them into my blazer pocket, so there were a few to choose among, and I was relieved that her scanner was satisfied. Carnets litter the streets and the underground; probably an Oystercard type method would help cut down on that.

The girls and I returned to Gare du Nord a few hours later for the Eurostar, catching the 56 bus near Chemin Vert on our landlord's recommendation.

LUNCH AMIDST THE LAW
Our previous two times in London, I'd tried to peek at the Middle Temple Hall, where Shakespeare first performed Twelfth Night for an audience that included Queen Elizabeth. Both of those times we were sternly turned away at the door.

A couple of months ago, dear annhig mentioned here that those who are not members could make reservations for lunch in the Hall. Hooray! It's some of Ann's old stomping grounds, so I gave it one more try, e-mailed, and got a positive reply.

Members of the Inns of Court and their guests may have lunch there, law students included, I think. Others may request in advance by email. According to the website, the hall is available for weddings, too.

We walked up to the door as if we owned the place, and this time the porters didn't give us a glance. No doubt we were surrounded by a golden aura of prebooked confidence.

The hall is magnificent, with a high double hammer beam wooden roof that blessedly survived the Great Fire and firebombing, though the end wall sustained bomb damage during WW2. There's a the musicians' gallery.

http://www.middletemplehall.org.uk/a...mages/hall.gif

Intricately carved wooden screen. High windows. Full length portraits of Queen Anne, Charles I, James I. There's an odd one of Eliz.I; probably a copy.

Four long tables run the length of the hall, with one crosswise on the stage. White gloved waiters. As we enter, the room is ~ 1/3 full, with a civilized murmur. The hostess, Jean, a motherly sort, shows us the ropes and indicates our reserved table, calls us "Darling." You can order from the carvery or help yourself from various stations.

We decide on the Chef's Special: coconut crusted halibut, watercress and potato soup, bread, salad, coffee for 10.75 GBP. It was delicious, especially the soup. We sat near the dessert station, and watched as mostly men spooned custard on top of some sort of delicious looking pudding. We refrained. You get your own coffee from a machine. An older man instructed me on the capuccino technique, then took the opportunity to flirt with H by telling her I seemed to have the hang of it.

Towards on end of the room twenty or so people seated together look like students, until we notice they all have Middle Temple shopping bags at their feet. We peg them as a tour group and are secretly glad we have no such identifying bags. I secretly hope we resemble a big shot QC and her intern.

Mostly I sit back and soak up the atmosphere. It's a wonderful lunch. Thank you, Ann.

(I didn't notice any jeans, Ann, or trainers for that matter.)

>>What golden creature tops that column? Maybe the spirit of Liberty.<<

Exactly so, it seems.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/July_Column

What a great eye for telling detail in those photos, by the way.

Oh, thank you, Patrick. MC will appreciate that, especially since your own photography is so good (as seen on your blog.)

Also thanks for the wiki link. I kept thinking of it as Mercury, but the wings would be misplaced, and didn't notice a broken chain in his hand. The sculptor captures Liberty very nicely, doesn't he? Catching the first morning rays during market, late at night lit by floodlights, he's easy to grow fond of.

By the way, if you arrive at Middle Temple at the right hours you can get in to see the hall. Our mistake the other times was, I think, getting there during lunch service.

Stoke - I am so pleased that you enjoyed your lunch in Middle Temple Hall.

your account brought back so many memories. did you see anything of the gardens?

MC, H and I had cut through the Temple area the previous week walking to Borough Market, enjoyed seeing the grounds, peeked over the Middle Temple Garden fence. It didn't seem that the garden was open, and since it was January we weren't so much in garden mode.

By the time H and I finished our memorable Middle Temple lunch we had already climbed to the top of the Monument, then walked to and around the Museum of London, so we were ready to head back to Bloomsbury and see if the maids had finished with our room. (They hadn't, but they were so sweetly apologetic and feudal that I had to call the desk to compliment them. It gave me a momentary flash of what the aristocracy must feel like all the time.)

I was surprised how much was in bloom, though. Several times in London and Hampstead we saw plum trees flowering; would that have been very early? Window boxes full of cyclamen everywhere, the occasional sheltered rose.

LONDON

Our debate continues: would we rather live in London, and pop over to Paris frequently, or the other way around? Though the contingency is remote, I'd opt for a village within an hour train ride of either one, and a lifetime rail pass.

On the Eurostar towards Paris I'd been too jetlagged to enjoy the scenery, so was glad to have a window seat coming back. Misty green fields, the occasional rural village.

Light rain on our arrival at St. Pancras, almost the only such weather the whole trip. I'd packed several pounds of MC's winter clothes from home, to exchange for professional wear it turned out she didn't need in France, so we were all fairly loaded down including their Paris shopping finds.

Now, how to get to Arran House, maybe a mile away? Obviously, this was the time for a cab. Instantly overruled, as I was every time I mentioned cabs the entire trip. (see "frugality" in title) OK, the Underground? Bus? Walk? Objections to all of these. H and I decided that remaining in the station and living on Paul cuisine was our only option, lacking the kind of friend we could call for a ride. We broke the impasse by unfurling umbrellas and setting off on foot. That worked just fine, cutting south of Euston as soon as we could, and the rain almost stopped by the time we arrived.

Several times in London and Hampstead we saw plum trees flowering; would that have been very early?>>

v v early, but London has its own micro-climate created by the warmth of all of those buildings.

ARRAN HOUSE HOTEL

We had a basic quad room at Arran House for a week in September '06, when the girls were 14 and 16, and we all loved it there. When we list our favorite breakfasts ever, it always makes the top ten, based on the communal international feeling rather than the food.

The South African staff and physician ownership changed apparently a few years ago, replaced by Indians, and that changes the atmosphere a little. The man at the front desk all our five days could not have been more lovely. It could use a little refurbishing, though, and housekeeping was a little random: one day they removed all of our towels, even those on the racks, and otherwise didn't touch the room. One day they'd replace our used teacups, other days leave everything on the mantel. These little things were remedied when mentioned at the desk.

This was our second trip where we stayed in an apartment in Paris and hotel in London, and we've liked it that way. For one thing, since we had to valuable Paris time for laundromat I only did that once, and our towels were far from fresh by the end of ten days. Clean hotel towels on demand felt luxurious.

We had a triple room at the front, first floor, with two shared lavatories and two shower rooms up a half flight; never had to wait. Gower is a fairly busy street, but the previous owners had installed a second set of windows for soundproofing and weather insulation. We used the resulting cool windowsill as a refrigerator. With earplugs I slept well next to the windows, and could tell from increasing traffic sounds when it was time to be up and about.

The "full English" is included in price, slightly less luxurious than our last visit -- no mushrooms or pain au chocolat -- but still plenty good. Eggs, thick bacon, beans, tomatoes. There's very nice porridge, fruit, juice, cocoa, coffee, tea. I was among the first down there and had a second cup with the girls later. It was fun observing the other guests. One time two German women and their teenage daughters came in seemed just delighted with the breakfast spread, took photos of it.

H and MC struck up some acquaintances in the lounge and breakfast room, another benefit of such a hotel since human interaction is limited in London. One young German chemist was spending some time at the University nearby, and a couple from Shropshire were in town catering a big party. We all liked the lounge, with its big leather chairs and an assortment of British tabloid journalism plus the Times.

Oh, thanks Ann. That makes sense. Nothing seemed in bloom in the countryside from the bus windows on our Oxford trip.