Paris Rendezvous: Nikki's trip report
Apr 9th, 2008, 04:15 AM
#61
Original Poster
Seafox, you should strongly encourage your friend to visit the Cluny museum and attend a concert there if his interest in all things medieval extends to music. And the CDs recorded by the group Ultreia are only available there, as far as I have been able to determine.
Jane, thanks for the nice words.
Jane, thanks for the nice words.
Jan 31st, 2009, 12:58 PM
#62
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This from July 2008. I am sorry i do not know how transpose the URL
New York to Paris by Train
I took the subway from NY to Paris with an inconvenient flight in between. In NY the E train connects to the Airtrain and at CDG, I rode the RER to number 5 metro. I am getting to old to lug luggage up and down subway stairs but I saved about 100 bucks. By the way the RER is a commuter line with very narrow aisles not designed for transporting luggage. People leaped over the bags of others and asses to sit at odd angles because it was hard to sit squarely.
This is my fourth trip to Paris, 1972, 1982, 1999 and this morning. The others were with my wife, this one by myself. She has 65 miles remaining from her 500 mile Camino and I will join her next week in Santiago de Compostela.
Still bleary eyed after a short nap, I headed out. It is better to see Paris out of focus than not al all. Often I have trouble finding the ocean at the beach, let alone navigate in crooked and barely connected streets the Baron Haussman forgot to destroy. But I wanted to see the Marais.
I entered many storefront art galleries where most of the work looked familiar even though it was the first time I saw it.. But one artist however used browns and white to create unusual portraits including the taller robot from Star Wars (I never remember which thing is which thing) and Shakespreare. For the need of a screw the bot was lost.
I headed in the general direction, in the right city at least, but it was time for lunch. Actually body time suggested breakfast, so I had my usual breakfast steak tartare. It was just a café near the Boulevard Beaumarchais. As far I as can tell I was only one reading the International Herald Tribune (IHT) so I refrained from looking at the comics, so as not to embarrass all of us. The fries, bread, and the smallest salad in culinary history were fine but the steak tartare was wonderful. It was a lean day glo red we do not see in the States (I am assuming food coloring was not the culprit.) which was perfectly fresh and refreshing with capers and flavored with what tasted more like tomato than mustard. All for 12 Euros. The cafe was filled with Parisians have lunch with the owner clearing tables and directing traffic.
The IHT sports section had a short article with the following incomprehensible sentence:
England’s Twenty20 Cup tournament was in turmoil Tuesday after a match
was cancelled when it was discovered that a Yorkshire spin bowler Azeem Rafiq, had been illegally selected in the competition.
Spin bowler? Is that like a twirling badminton battler?
And I am also sure Azeem Rafiq has been added to the no fly list by now.
I still had not found the center of the Marais, so I decided to follow the falafel. People with pitas were getting thicker and thicker, onions and sauce dripping everywhere
The culprit was L’As du Falafel with a line down the rue de Rosiers. It is supposedly the best on the planet but I had just eaten and I have never had a Jones that bad for falafel. I went into two Kosher bakeries to bring something back to the room for later. In one I purchased the moistest onion roll and an almond stick, the other a poppy seed strudel. You really have to like poppy seeds to eat this. One bit and you will fail every drug test for the rest of your working career.
I wanted to speak about the people who worked there about the neighborhood and anti-semitism but one guy was busy, one young woman only spoke French, and one old man looked like the Dustin Hoffman character from Papillion after he lost his mind. Maybe I will go back another day.
The neighborhood is filled with museums and decaying buildings but I was looking for Place des Vosges. The relatively small square is perfect and conveys a serenity even though it is filled with children trying to kick pigeons and hoards of tourists marching purposeful to their next assignment. It is protected on all four sides by brick and stone pavilions with a 400 year history. I wanted to visit the Victor Hugo Museum but jetlag was winning. I have always thought it was amusing that Les Miserables, a work about oppression and injustice was made into a musical. “Da, da, da ta, da, we’re going to chop off your head, if you aren’t already dead.” Hugo always needed money so he may have approved. But I am guessing he would not have liked the nickname Les Miz, which is like calling the people who sleep on gratings The Home.
Day Whatever It Is
My sister-in-law is well traveled in Italy and Spain but has never been to France. For reasons known only to her, she holds stereotypes of Paris somewhere between a Gene Kelly and Jerry Lewis movie, with Edith Piaf thrown in. I was unsure where to eat near Ste. Germaine. I wanted to go to Le Procope and since I hadn’t been there since 1972, I wanted to ask for my regular table but it was too expensive for a joke that only I would get. But then I found a restaurant that justified my sister in law’s stereotypes, Café Thug. The waiter looked like one of those thugs from a 1950’s film with a full head of black hair and a five o’clock shadow that appeared as soon as finished shaving. The type that started smoking right after his first bottle. He waved at every other thug that passed down this side street. True to the Thug code, they waved back. No matter how bad the food, I was not sending it back.
The food was just a shade above the law. The onion soup was missing things like onions and instead of gruyere on top there were two little floating scorched pieces of bread, mismatched breasts if you will. The minute steak was 30 seconds past due and the crème brulee was as dense as the owner.
From there I started my self-guided literary tour.
Oddly enough my first stop was an art atelier where Picasso painted Guernica (7, rue de Grands Augustins), the grotesque rendering of the bombing of that town during the Spanish Civil War. An apocryphal tale surrounds that painting. A German soldier walked into the studio and asked Picasso if he did that. Supposedly Picasso responded, “No you did.”
Next was a restaurant now called Azabu (3 rue Daphne) where George Sand, Flaubert, and Turgenev gathered for dinner and cigars. Unfortunately whenever I now think of Flaubert, I think of the brilliant book by Julian Barnes Flaubert’s Parrot. Part of the work is about obsessions, one of which was finding the stuffed parrot that Flaubert once kept on his desk. This worries me. My tour is about the facades of buildings, many of which have been razed, rather than the interiors where they wrote, eat, drank, and worse. What is my obsession?
The next site was something from Baudelaire. I have never read Baudelaire, why would I want to see his building? And with my sense of direction it is taking me twenty minutes to find a building next to one another. So I detoured to the Seine to change the itinerary. Besides I am reading Pere Goriot by Balzac which is a true insight in 1830’s Paris. It speaks of a middle class boarding house and other social conventions.
Almost immediately I pass the Hotel de Voltaire where Baudelaire lived, as did one of my favorite wits, Oscar Wilde, and Richard Wagner who played Mendelssohn with gloves on so his fingers would not touch the music of a Jew.
I cross the Seine into the Tuileries and I was told that I must purchase tickets for L’Orangerie at the FNAC on the Champs. I pass the Place de Concorde where there is a statue of Louise Colet with whom Flaubert had a tumultuous relationship.
Walking the Champs, I decided not go to the parade on Bastille Day. There were metal barriers yards away from the center of the street. I would have to get there by 8 AM for a parade that did not start until after 10 and the Metro along the boulevards was closed that day for security reasons. As you walk through Paris, you hear many languages but on the Champs I heard the distinct Valley Girl dialect. That sing song yeah that is now being used at Gitmo instead of water boarding. But I wonder if there is Loire Valley accent that drives the French insane? When I finally arrive at FNAC, I am told there are no available tickets until after I leave Paris. A conspiracy.
That evening I return to the Marais for the world’s best falafel and lemonade. This part of Paris is dominated by Sephardim, which are Jews more or less from Spain and the Mediterranean. Ashkenazi Jews are from Eastern Europe, knishes, bagels-Sephardim falafel, schwarma. Since I do not eat falafel often, it was the best I ever had and only waited 10 minutes. The pita was filled falafel and cabbage, cucumber, eggplant, and other veggies. (No onions.) The lemonade was fine, I am not prepared at this time to say world’s best.
On the way back to the hotel I pass rue de Buci where Verlaine once lived and Place des Vosges where at various times Victor Hugo and Georges Simenon resided. (Did you know that Simenon wrote by lining up hundreds of pencils and as one became blunt he would throw it aside and pick up another one until he completed the work which he tried to do in one sitting without sleep.)
My friends get angry with me because I prefer dead authors over live ones. I guess death is like a Consumers Report, the reviews are complete for the most part. In keeping with the activities of the dead I visit the cemetery at Montparnesse.
When we went to Prague, I carried a huge rubber bug and put it on the tombstone of Franz Kafka for a photo. I had many ideas for Man Ray and Samuel Beckett, but they were not convenient. For Man Ray I needed a naked woman with a bass violin painted on her back to sit on the tombstone. For Beckett, I wanted an old boot. But for different reasons neither would fit in my suitcase.
When I arrived at the cemetery of Montparnasse, I found the official map to be useless and the place poorly marked. I could not find Man Ray, for example, who was sandwiched among with many other graves. If were not for some other American tourists who saw my bewilderment and asked if I was looking for Man Ray, I would still be fumbling about. I just put a package of lens cleaner on his tombstone for a photo and for Beckett a handwritten note-Act II.
I looked for the grave of Alfred Dreyfus, but it could not be found. There were few visitors in any part of the cemetery but a French woman who speak a bit of English and I looked for him without luck. There was, however, a gravesite that said, it was available, where Dreyfus was supposed to be. I read some time ago the grave site was disguised a bit in fear of consecration. But I can barely order in French, let alone explain and defend such a position. So she thought I was just another idiot when I suggested that he was buried there despite the “For Sale” sign.
I walked the Montparnasse area including the Luxembourg Garden a grand and well traversed tiered park. There were very few places open for lunch until I reached Boulevard Montparnasse where I found a Chinese restaurant. I had lemon chicken, and just the way I like it, extremely tart, otherwise it was very New York.
I went back to the Marais that evening, where I found a Jewish wedding in the Place de Vosges and in near rue des Rosiers, Orthodox Jews trying to convince other Jews to prey wearing tefillin. Teffilin are black leather boxes with straps that contain portions from the Torah. They are also called phylacteries. All in the midst of the falafel wars.
The following day was Bastille Day. I knew the main activity was on the Champs Elysee but I walked to the Place de Bastille where absolutely nothing was going on except the usual flow of traffic. Even the McDonald’s was quiet. I did, however, watch some of the big parade on TV. There was Sarkozy, with a general standing in a jeep and waving. There were brigades of troops and other oddly dressed Frenchmen waving swords and engaging in other activities of deference.
The United States is the most aggressive military nation in the world and our parades have floats with cartoon characters, bands playing unidentifiable tunes, and young woman in what amounts to bathing suits throwing metal sticks in the air, but no tanks, missiles, or masses of troops. The French long a second rate military power have
flying paratroopers, tanks, and kepis. I guess whenever the US becomes a second rate military power we can expect the Watermelon Queen and the Mickey float to be replaced with our most advanced and prized ancient weaponry.
I took the Metro to Sacre Couer. Parisians travel with their dogs. There are not service dogs but their pets. It seems Parisians are more tolerant of dog and their leavings than poorly spoken French. If they are so close to their dog, the dog should pay and have the dog put the ticket through the turnstile.
This was the first time I visited Sacre Couer and the Pigalle. The tourists pour out of the Metro and buses like a rat hole being exterminated. There were three card monte games near the church. In NYC a three card monte game involves at least 5 conspirators, the dealer, a shill, a least one pick pocket, and two look outs. They did not need a shill; the huge crowds were filled with potential suckers.
I then walked up the Boulevard de Rouchechuart. More impressive than the amount of sex shops are all the people that support block after block of sex shops. Even in the hay day of Times Square we could only support a few blocks of that stuff.
My final day was spent gathering gifts at Fauchon and chocolate shops. I must have remembered a different Fauchon. There were limited offerings and no ortolans or other exotic foods. I purchased chocolate at Jardis a famous shop. It was quite good but not the best I have eaten.
I saved my splurge meal for my last supper. It was at Temps au Temps. I had a carefully prepared chicken breast in its own juice and butter on a nest of the most delicious carrots and lettuce. For dessert I had a gateau of chocolate with a touch of banana ice cream. A very nice finish to my trip to Paris.
Details
I stayed at the Best Western Marais Bastille on Boulevard Richard Lenoir. The staff was extremely kind and attentive. The room’s only window was on airshaft but the bathroom for the price large. 100 Euros for the room and 13 Euros for a breakfast which includes bread from Poilane’s. There is a Metro stop a block away and the Bastille stop about a five minute walk.
I flew Vueling from Paris to Santiago de Compostela. CDG is an unmarked madness where a traveler is supposed to know by osmosis where and when to go the proper places. The flight was an hour late with no explanation and no signs. They “lost” my bag in Santiago, since no one told me it was at the ticket counter rather than the baggage claim.
I have an account with an international bank and took money out of the magic wall without any problem. I did, however, call when in the United States to inform them of my trip.
New York to Paris by Train
I took the subway from NY to Paris with an inconvenient flight in between. In NY the E train connects to the Airtrain and at CDG, I rode the RER to number 5 metro. I am getting to old to lug luggage up and down subway stairs but I saved about 100 bucks. By the way the RER is a commuter line with very narrow aisles not designed for transporting luggage. People leaped over the bags of others and asses to sit at odd angles because it was hard to sit squarely.
This is my fourth trip to Paris, 1972, 1982, 1999 and this morning. The others were with my wife, this one by myself. She has 65 miles remaining from her 500 mile Camino and I will join her next week in Santiago de Compostela.
Still bleary eyed after a short nap, I headed out. It is better to see Paris out of focus than not al all. Often I have trouble finding the ocean at the beach, let alone navigate in crooked and barely connected streets the Baron Haussman forgot to destroy. But I wanted to see the Marais.
I entered many storefront art galleries where most of the work looked familiar even though it was the first time I saw it.. But one artist however used browns and white to create unusual portraits including the taller robot from Star Wars (I never remember which thing is which thing) and Shakespreare. For the need of a screw the bot was lost.
I headed in the general direction, in the right city at least, but it was time for lunch. Actually body time suggested breakfast, so I had my usual breakfast steak tartare. It was just a café near the Boulevard Beaumarchais. As far I as can tell I was only one reading the International Herald Tribune (IHT) so I refrained from looking at the comics, so as not to embarrass all of us. The fries, bread, and the smallest salad in culinary history were fine but the steak tartare was wonderful. It was a lean day glo red we do not see in the States (I am assuming food coloring was not the culprit.) which was perfectly fresh and refreshing with capers and flavored with what tasted more like tomato than mustard. All for 12 Euros. The cafe was filled with Parisians have lunch with the owner clearing tables and directing traffic.
The IHT sports section had a short article with the following incomprehensible sentence:
England’s Twenty20 Cup tournament was in turmoil Tuesday after a match
was cancelled when it was discovered that a Yorkshire spin bowler Azeem Rafiq, had been illegally selected in the competition.
Spin bowler? Is that like a twirling badminton battler?
And I am also sure Azeem Rafiq has been added to the no fly list by now.
I still had not found the center of the Marais, so I decided to follow the falafel. People with pitas were getting thicker and thicker, onions and sauce dripping everywhere
The culprit was L’As du Falafel with a line down the rue de Rosiers. It is supposedly the best on the planet but I had just eaten and I have never had a Jones that bad for falafel. I went into two Kosher bakeries to bring something back to the room for later. In one I purchased the moistest onion roll and an almond stick, the other a poppy seed strudel. You really have to like poppy seeds to eat this. One bit and you will fail every drug test for the rest of your working career.
I wanted to speak about the people who worked there about the neighborhood and anti-semitism but one guy was busy, one young woman only spoke French, and one old man looked like the Dustin Hoffman character from Papillion after he lost his mind. Maybe I will go back another day.
The neighborhood is filled with museums and decaying buildings but I was looking for Place des Vosges. The relatively small square is perfect and conveys a serenity even though it is filled with children trying to kick pigeons and hoards of tourists marching purposeful to their next assignment. It is protected on all four sides by brick and stone pavilions with a 400 year history. I wanted to visit the Victor Hugo Museum but jetlag was winning. I have always thought it was amusing that Les Miserables, a work about oppression and injustice was made into a musical. “Da, da, da ta, da, we’re going to chop off your head, if you aren’t already dead.” Hugo always needed money so he may have approved. But I am guessing he would not have liked the nickname Les Miz, which is like calling the people who sleep on gratings The Home.
Day Whatever It Is
My sister-in-law is well traveled in Italy and Spain but has never been to France. For reasons known only to her, she holds stereotypes of Paris somewhere between a Gene Kelly and Jerry Lewis movie, with Edith Piaf thrown in. I was unsure where to eat near Ste. Germaine. I wanted to go to Le Procope and since I hadn’t been there since 1972, I wanted to ask for my regular table but it was too expensive for a joke that only I would get. But then I found a restaurant that justified my sister in law’s stereotypes, Café Thug. The waiter looked like one of those thugs from a 1950’s film with a full head of black hair and a five o’clock shadow that appeared as soon as finished shaving. The type that started smoking right after his first bottle. He waved at every other thug that passed down this side street. True to the Thug code, they waved back. No matter how bad the food, I was not sending it back.
The food was just a shade above the law. The onion soup was missing things like onions and instead of gruyere on top there were two little floating scorched pieces of bread, mismatched breasts if you will. The minute steak was 30 seconds past due and the crème brulee was as dense as the owner.
From there I started my self-guided literary tour.
Oddly enough my first stop was an art atelier where Picasso painted Guernica (7, rue de Grands Augustins), the grotesque rendering of the bombing of that town during the Spanish Civil War. An apocryphal tale surrounds that painting. A German soldier walked into the studio and asked Picasso if he did that. Supposedly Picasso responded, “No you did.”
Next was a restaurant now called Azabu (3 rue Daphne) where George Sand, Flaubert, and Turgenev gathered for dinner and cigars. Unfortunately whenever I now think of Flaubert, I think of the brilliant book by Julian Barnes Flaubert’s Parrot. Part of the work is about obsessions, one of which was finding the stuffed parrot that Flaubert once kept on his desk. This worries me. My tour is about the facades of buildings, many of which have been razed, rather than the interiors where they wrote, eat, drank, and worse. What is my obsession?
The next site was something from Baudelaire. I have never read Baudelaire, why would I want to see his building? And with my sense of direction it is taking me twenty minutes to find a building next to one another. So I detoured to the Seine to change the itinerary. Besides I am reading Pere Goriot by Balzac which is a true insight in 1830’s Paris. It speaks of a middle class boarding house and other social conventions.
Almost immediately I pass the Hotel de Voltaire where Baudelaire lived, as did one of my favorite wits, Oscar Wilde, and Richard Wagner who played Mendelssohn with gloves on so his fingers would not touch the music of a Jew.
I cross the Seine into the Tuileries and I was told that I must purchase tickets for L’Orangerie at the FNAC on the Champs. I pass the Place de Concorde where there is a statue of Louise Colet with whom Flaubert had a tumultuous relationship.
Walking the Champs, I decided not go to the parade on Bastille Day. There were metal barriers yards away from the center of the street. I would have to get there by 8 AM for a parade that did not start until after 10 and the Metro along the boulevards was closed that day for security reasons. As you walk through Paris, you hear many languages but on the Champs I heard the distinct Valley Girl dialect. That sing song yeah that is now being used at Gitmo instead of water boarding. But I wonder if there is Loire Valley accent that drives the French insane? When I finally arrive at FNAC, I am told there are no available tickets until after I leave Paris. A conspiracy.
That evening I return to the Marais for the world’s best falafel and lemonade. This part of Paris is dominated by Sephardim, which are Jews more or less from Spain and the Mediterranean. Ashkenazi Jews are from Eastern Europe, knishes, bagels-Sephardim falafel, schwarma. Since I do not eat falafel often, it was the best I ever had and only waited 10 minutes. The pita was filled falafel and cabbage, cucumber, eggplant, and other veggies. (No onions.) The lemonade was fine, I am not prepared at this time to say world’s best.
On the way back to the hotel I pass rue de Buci where Verlaine once lived and Place des Vosges where at various times Victor Hugo and Georges Simenon resided. (Did you know that Simenon wrote by lining up hundreds of pencils and as one became blunt he would throw it aside and pick up another one until he completed the work which he tried to do in one sitting without sleep.)
My friends get angry with me because I prefer dead authors over live ones. I guess death is like a Consumers Report, the reviews are complete for the most part. In keeping with the activities of the dead I visit the cemetery at Montparnesse.
When we went to Prague, I carried a huge rubber bug and put it on the tombstone of Franz Kafka for a photo. I had many ideas for Man Ray and Samuel Beckett, but they were not convenient. For Man Ray I needed a naked woman with a bass violin painted on her back to sit on the tombstone. For Beckett, I wanted an old boot. But for different reasons neither would fit in my suitcase.
When I arrived at the cemetery of Montparnasse, I found the official map to be useless and the place poorly marked. I could not find Man Ray, for example, who was sandwiched among with many other graves. If were not for some other American tourists who saw my bewilderment and asked if I was looking for Man Ray, I would still be fumbling about. I just put a package of lens cleaner on his tombstone for a photo and for Beckett a handwritten note-Act II.
I looked for the grave of Alfred Dreyfus, but it could not be found. There were few visitors in any part of the cemetery but a French woman who speak a bit of English and I looked for him without luck. There was, however, a gravesite that said, it was available, where Dreyfus was supposed to be. I read some time ago the grave site was disguised a bit in fear of consecration. But I can barely order in French, let alone explain and defend such a position. So she thought I was just another idiot when I suggested that he was buried there despite the “For Sale” sign.
I walked the Montparnasse area including the Luxembourg Garden a grand and well traversed tiered park. There were very few places open for lunch until I reached Boulevard Montparnasse where I found a Chinese restaurant. I had lemon chicken, and just the way I like it, extremely tart, otherwise it was very New York.
I went back to the Marais that evening, where I found a Jewish wedding in the Place de Vosges and in near rue des Rosiers, Orthodox Jews trying to convince other Jews to prey wearing tefillin. Teffilin are black leather boxes with straps that contain portions from the Torah. They are also called phylacteries. All in the midst of the falafel wars.
The following day was Bastille Day. I knew the main activity was on the Champs Elysee but I walked to the Place de Bastille where absolutely nothing was going on except the usual flow of traffic. Even the McDonald’s was quiet. I did, however, watch some of the big parade on TV. There was Sarkozy, with a general standing in a jeep and waving. There were brigades of troops and other oddly dressed Frenchmen waving swords and engaging in other activities of deference.
The United States is the most aggressive military nation in the world and our parades have floats with cartoon characters, bands playing unidentifiable tunes, and young woman in what amounts to bathing suits throwing metal sticks in the air, but no tanks, missiles, or masses of troops. The French long a second rate military power have
flying paratroopers, tanks, and kepis. I guess whenever the US becomes a second rate military power we can expect the Watermelon Queen and the Mickey float to be replaced with our most advanced and prized ancient weaponry.
I took the Metro to Sacre Couer. Parisians travel with their dogs. There are not service dogs but their pets. It seems Parisians are more tolerant of dog and their leavings than poorly spoken French. If they are so close to their dog, the dog should pay and have the dog put the ticket through the turnstile.
This was the first time I visited Sacre Couer and the Pigalle. The tourists pour out of the Metro and buses like a rat hole being exterminated. There were three card monte games near the church. In NYC a three card monte game involves at least 5 conspirators, the dealer, a shill, a least one pick pocket, and two look outs. They did not need a shill; the huge crowds were filled with potential suckers.
I then walked up the Boulevard de Rouchechuart. More impressive than the amount of sex shops are all the people that support block after block of sex shops. Even in the hay day of Times Square we could only support a few blocks of that stuff.
My final day was spent gathering gifts at Fauchon and chocolate shops. I must have remembered a different Fauchon. There were limited offerings and no ortolans or other exotic foods. I purchased chocolate at Jardis a famous shop. It was quite good but not the best I have eaten.
I saved my splurge meal for my last supper. It was at Temps au Temps. I had a carefully prepared chicken breast in its own juice and butter on a nest of the most delicious carrots and lettuce. For dessert I had a gateau of chocolate with a touch of banana ice cream. A very nice finish to my trip to Paris.
Details
I stayed at the Best Western Marais Bastille on Boulevard Richard Lenoir. The staff was extremely kind and attentive. The room’s only window was on airshaft but the bathroom for the price large. 100 Euros for the room and 13 Euros for a breakfast which includes bread from Poilane’s. There is a Metro stop a block away and the Bastille stop about a five minute walk.
I flew Vueling from Paris to Santiago de Compostela. CDG is an unmarked madness where a traveler is supposed to know by osmosis where and when to go the proper places. The flight was an hour late with no explanation and no signs. They “lost” my bag in Santiago, since no one told me it was at the ticket counter rather than the baggage claim.
I have an account with an international bank and took money out of the magic wall without any problem. I did, however, call when in the United States to inform them of my trip.
Jan 31st, 2009, 07:47 PM
#63
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aduchamp.
i was laughing out loud at your descriptive narrative of your trip.
you have a wonderful way with words.
thank you.
thanks to you, i got to read nikki's report as well..
just curious, why did you not post your own report instead of tagging on to nikki's?
i was laughing out loud at your descriptive narrative of your trip.
you have a wonderful way with words.
thank you.
thanks to you, i got to read nikki's report as well..
just curious, why did you not post your own report instead of tagging on to nikki's?
Feb 1st, 2009, 04:26 AM
#64
Original Poster
I'm guessing Aduchamp meant to post to the France trip report thread and got lost while reminiscing about Cafe Thug. I must try that place next time. (Thanks for posting to this thread though; I loved your report and it also gave me a chance to walk down memory lane with my own report.)
Jun 28th, 2009, 11:17 PM
#66
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Nikki,
I hope you still look at these replies. I know you wrote in April, and now it is almost July.
I so enjoyed reading your posts, and all the replies to it. I have booked the apt. you stayed in! We are two Canadian women that will arrive from the Netherlands, for an 8 day stay in Paris beginning September 3rd. Then will leave to walk the Camino Primitivo to Santiago de Compestella.
I am a little anxious about forwarding funds to a bank account in Marseille, even though I have a signed agreement. My first time doing this.
Also want to attend some cultural events. I need to research the possible events in September. If anyone has any suggestions, I would appreciate it.
My french is poor, although I will make every effort to use what I have.
Buses - sounds like they are available from this location.
I would also appreciate some suggestions from this forum about day trips away from Paris. I know I could probably fill my days in Paris, but would like to venture away - perhaps for one or two day trips.
Thanks in advance for your assistance.
Jan
I hope you still look at these replies. I know you wrote in April, and now it is almost July.
I so enjoyed reading your posts, and all the replies to it. I have booked the apt. you stayed in! We are two Canadian women that will arrive from the Netherlands, for an 8 day stay in Paris beginning September 3rd. Then will leave to walk the Camino Primitivo to Santiago de Compestella.
I am a little anxious about forwarding funds to a bank account in Marseille, even though I have a signed agreement. My first time doing this.
Also want to attend some cultural events. I need to research the possible events in September. If anyone has any suggestions, I would appreciate it.
My french is poor, although I will make every effort to use what I have.
Buses - sounds like they are available from this location.
I would also appreciate some suggestions from this forum about day trips away from Paris. I know I could probably fill my days in Paris, but would like to venture away - perhaps for one or two day trips.
Thanks in advance for your assistance.
Jan
Jun 29th, 2009, 12:55 AM
#67
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Nikki and Aud , I am so glad I found both these reports this morning. How I missed Nikki's from April I'll never know!
Both were delightful and informative.
Nikki, if you are still checking in here, did your apt. have an elevator ?. It looks like it is on a high floor . The description at VRBO does not say. Also was there internet access?
Both were delightful and informative.
Nikki, if you are still checking in here, did your apt. have an elevator ?. It looks like it is on a high floor . The description at VRBO does not say. Also was there internet access?
Jun 29th, 2009, 04:28 AM
#68
Original Poster
I really enjoyed this apartment when I stayed there last year, and I have booked it again for a stay in November this year.
Jan, I sent an e-mail to the owner and asked if she takes Paypal. While she did not last year, this year she said she does. That is certainly more convenient than a wire transfer to the bank. But last year I did the wire transfer and had no problems.
There are plenty of buses near the apartment. I find the most useful map for public transportation is the Grand Plan Lignes et Rues, available at metro stops. This shows all the bus lines overlaid on a street map.
For day trips, there are lots of interesting threads on this message board. Search for "Paris day trips" and you should find lots of ideas.
For cultural activities, I always check for opera and ballet at the two opera houses at http://www.operadeparis.fr/cns11/live/onp/site/.
I frequently find good programs of classical music at the Theatre des Champs Elysees. Their schedule for September is available at http://www.theatrechampselysees09.fr...r.php?m=2009-9.
For more cultural suggestions I would post a new question here, so people will see it and are more likely to respond than they are to this thread which is over a year old.
Avalon, yes there is an elevator and internet access.
Jan, I sent an e-mail to the owner and asked if she takes Paypal. While she did not last year, this year she said she does. That is certainly more convenient than a wire transfer to the bank. But last year I did the wire transfer and had no problems.
There are plenty of buses near the apartment. I find the most useful map for public transportation is the Grand Plan Lignes et Rues, available at metro stops. This shows all the bus lines overlaid on a street map.
For day trips, there are lots of interesting threads on this message board. Search for "Paris day trips" and you should find lots of ideas.
For cultural activities, I always check for opera and ballet at the two opera houses at http://www.operadeparis.fr/cns11/live/onp/site/.
I frequently find good programs of classical music at the Theatre des Champs Elysees. Their schedule for September is available at http://www.theatrechampselysees09.fr...r.php?m=2009-9.
For more cultural suggestions I would post a new question here, so people will see it and are more likely to respond than they are to this thread which is over a year old.
Avalon, yes there is an elevator and internet access.
Jun 29th, 2009, 07:38 AM
#70
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Thanks Nikki. Appreciated so much your suggestions.
I will go to the bank this am to see about the wire transfer. Hopefully without problems. Otherwise will ask about pay pal.
Warm wishes from a sunny Vancouver.
Jan
I will go to the bank this am to see about the wire transfer. Hopefully without problems. Otherwise will ask about pay pal.
Warm wishes from a sunny Vancouver.
Jan
Jun 29th, 2009, 04:42 PM
#73
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Nikki, after finishing reading your trip report I wished that this October I could spent few extra day in Paris and rent an apartment,but unfortunately Paris will be the last leg of my trip and will stay there only for two days before taking the plane back home.
Really enjoyed reading your stay in La Ville Lumiere.
Really enjoyed reading your stay in La Ville Lumiere.
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