Notre 13e Semaine: Return to Paris

After 3 weekends away from the city and almost no time spent here in between, it was really great to get reacquainted. Although we did have a little help from some friends.

Go to Week 13 photos on Flickr

Laura comes to Gay Paris

This week, Iris's good friend Laura was in town, which meant it was time to explore, and time to party. On Monday, Laura I strolled around town finding her old haunts so she could relive her previous trip to Paris. She showed me the upside-down pyramid in the Louvre (that's the one at the end of The Da Vinci Code – and Nat just found a used copy of the book so we can find the other sites around town) which I could never seem to find, although I'm not sure how I missed the entire underground mall - a mall that houses the food court where author David Sedaris says he takes all his guests for lunch. I was excited, and placed myself in many tourists' photos. Smile!





We also stumbled upon a red carpet affair in what I believe was the national archives library. The crew was just setting up, and our curiosity was piqued so we strolled into the sprawling courtyard and Laura rolls right up to these strangers and basically says (in French): "Hey how are you guys? What's going on here?" The combination of politeness meets semi-trespassing was too much to handle and eventually after learning about the event (and Laura inquiring about tickets), we were quickly shuffled out of there.


"What's going on here?"

Iris and Nat joined us for family dinner night where we downed several Amsterdam Navigator beers - 8.4% - that Iris brought along. (As an aside, I discovered a couple of days later that Amsterdam makes an even more potent concoction called the Maximator which clocks in at 11.6%). When the beer was gone, we left the warm apartment and headed to a bar, of course. After emerging from the metro station we realized we actually had no idea where the bar was but Laura needed to break the seal and quickly "navigated" herself toward a nearby church. This cracked us up to no end. She then approached everyone in sight with her now slurred French to get directions or to just tell the crepe-stand man, a perfect stranger, how much she loved him.


Ready to hit the town.

We finally got to the Princess and the Frog and were happily enjoying our pitcher of Ginger Twist homebrew when the group of French boys behind us decided to flirt with the girls in a manner reminiscent of kindergarten. Spit balls torn from coasters soared over the tables until Laura ended the dispute with a perfectly aimed toss directly into their pitcher. Then we all made friends, some more friendly than others, and we chatted (or later they all danced on the tables) during the rest of our stay.

What intrigued me about this adventure was that despite the fact that everyone was quite drunk the French guys were still so quick to correct our grammar and pronunciation. And this is something that everyone in Paris does; perhaps it's a patriotic duty. It's not good enough to attempt to speak their language, you have to be reminded at every corner that you still don't get it. And although it is at most times helpful for me to have these impromptu lessons, it really is quite hypocritical; you know the very moment an Anglophone tried to fix their English tenses (unsolicited of course), the whole country would pack up the language in a heart beat and we'd all be screwed.

Light up the town

Wednesday evening I met Nat on the Champs Elysee to watch the lighting of the Christmas lights. We were rather vague on the details so there was a lot of time spent wondering what was happening. On the way there I stopped at Place Concorde and saw a beautiful white ferris wheel (only 9E a ride, get real!) which is probably there for the season. Later on the Champs I could see that the wheel was placed exactly in line with the rest of the monuments on the Historical Axis. The French are so anal, I love it.


Only 9E. A steal!


Hieroglyphics and amusement rides.


Such precision.

After touring the Christmas Market (quite similar to Vienna in terms of offering) we stood on an island in the middle of the street waiting for something to happen. Hey, other people were already there, so in true mob mentality fashion, we just figured they knew something that we didn't. Really I don't think anybody had a clue but we got to watch several motorcycles drive on the wrong side of the street so they could get ahead of a few cars. We finally left and found the tiny media event where Marion Cotillard (whom we couldn't see) pressed a button an in complete anti-climax, the whole block light up in that cool LED glow. It was pretty beautiful, especially the animating lights meant to look like dripping icicles but which Myra later called bird droppings.


Ooooooh.




Metal sculptures that frost over. Was pretty cool.

Other related items:


Friday we found lights set up on Rue Mouffetard.


Floating chandelier.


Regardez! It's plaster of Paris, in Paris!

Les petites bourgeoisies qui boient du champagne

DISCLAIMER: Photos of mostly-naked men.

So on an ordinary Wednesday night, Nat let herself be transported back to the age of 21 by a trip to Disco Queen on the Champs Elysees, led by none other than the champion party girl herself: Iris! Nat and her MBA friend Peggy (who's from California) met up with Iris, Laura and their friends for Ladies' Night! This included free cover, a free drink at the door, free champagne (at designated times – and signaled by fire torches), great music and male entertainment. We danced up a storm with the girls and partied like it was 1999 – literally. It’s FUN hanging out with 21-year-olds, especially ones with no inhibitions.

At Champagne time, the bartenders would throw plastic cups into the crowd and then pour bottles of champagne into them – sometimes in a rather Freudian manner, or sometimes even straight into the girls’ mouths (or hair! There were a few wet cat situations). The "entertainment" was hilarious too, with muscle-headed, steroid-infested guys up on mini-stages shaking their thing in a wildly provocative manner while surreptitiously handing their clothing items to a nerdy "helper" guy on the ground who collected them. So much for spontaneity! The show didn’t go "all the way" though and so the guys were able to leave the stage with their dignity intact.

A few shows, many glasses of champagne, one trip to the unisex bathroom and hours of great music later, Iris called Game Over at 3:30am because she had a class the next day (how responsible!) and so Peggy and I tottered home in a cab talking about how we should do this EVERY week and we NEED to go shopping for clubbing clothes… let me tell you the next day, I didn’t FEEL 21. Yes, that is actually the difference between 27 and 21: it’s not the ability to have fun, but the ability to recover from a hangover!





















La nouveau est arrive

On Thursday a handful of us went out to dinner along the Seine and when we got there Myra informed us that today was the release of the new Beaujolais wine. Apparently the French all go out to celebrate and get drunk off enjoy the new vintage. The meal was enjoyable (including the new Beaujolais) and rather uneventful (especially since we opened the joint) until Nat got her meal and decided that it didn't really resemble the veal she thought she ordered. I had a quick sample and, after almost tossing my cookies, put my money on brains. We debated further; finished our meals; had unimpressive desserts; waited almost 30 minutes to get the bill; fumed; then headed home and went straight online to Wikipedia. It turns out she had ordered sweetbreads which are thalamus and thyroid glands, and possibly pancreas (but that debate rages on). I had a good laugh and after her initial freak-out Nat still said it was a tasty meal.

But Myra brought up a good point during dinner: what makes offal more disgusting than the flesh that we "normally" eat; why is it "weird?" I didn't have a good answer except to say that the idea of eating tongue, for example, just freaks me out and I could only picture the sandwiches that Bart and Lisa were forced to eat on the Simpsons during their stay at their aunts' house. Nat was more pragmatic suggesting that liver and kidneys are cleansing organs, so by eating those you're basically eating all the crappiest stuff in the animal. Maybe it's really just that offal is generally referred to by its true name (and how can brains sound delicious?) whereas something called a tenderloin just makes my mouth water.


There were no photos from dinner so here's a shot of the Xmas tree in Galleries Lafayette.

So it's all about lunch

On Saturday afternoon we met a very hung-over Iris and Laura for lunch at Le Pre Verre; a restaurant which Iris (and us) tried to go for dinner on her first night in town and a place which we have tried and failed twice more to get reservations for dinner. However Iris managed to snag a lunch spot for the 4 of us so again if it weren't for her, I'm sure we'd have forgotten entirely about this conquest.

Not only does the Pre Verre serve fantastic food - a different menu each day - but the lunch special is an unbelievable value: entrée, plate, glass of wine, and coffee all for 13.50E. People you can't beat this! It took 3 months but we finally learned how to go out for lunch at nice restaurants and enjoy them on a more affordable level. I was tasked with drinking most of the wine since the young ladies were out of commission and the lovely squash soup with cumin sent Laura rushing the men's washroom. I'm really painting a bad picture of Laura's bodily functions in this post but if it weren't for her and Iris, we probably wouldn't have had as much fun this week.


Hooray for lunch.


It probably didn't look this good on the way up.

Touring Amelie

Sunday I dragged Nat out into the cold rain to tour the sites from Amelie, another adventure that has been in the works for, oh, 3 months I suppose. We saw a handful of places and then ended the tour in the Cafe Des 2 Moulins, the coffee shop where Amelie worked. The restaurant looks almost the same as it does in the movie except the tabac counter is missing, the phone booth closet is now a broom closet, and some booths seems to have shifted around, but the vibe is still there. It was crammed with tourists taking photos I enjoyed my crème brulee in homage to Amelie who originally introduced me the dessert.


Our pre-tour brunch.


The Metro station where Amelie drops off the blind man after taking him for a walk.


The opening shot of the movie is on this alley.


The grocery now sporting a "Maison Collignon" sign obviously capitalizing on movie fame.


The sex shop where Nino works.


Deux Moulins Cafe.


All the other ponies were taking photos too.




Fame = overpriced food.


Hot sex scene in there.




The tabac would be there next to the bar.

Also I found many new Space Invaders this week so be sure to check out the gallery. I'm well on my way to the goal of 100.


Week 13 photos on Flickr

Notre 12e Semaine: Schnitzel and Ponies

We spent this past long weekend in the grand city of Vienna, Austria. The trip was inspired by Nat's lifelong dream to see the "dancing horses" at the Spanish Riding school there. Even though she had already been to Vienna twice, she'd missed the horses both times.

Go to Week 12 photos on Flickr

Flight

Our trip started out with a civilized departure time: 2pm in the afternoon. Compared to some of the early morning flights that saw us getting up at 5:30am, this was a refreshing change. We had time to wake up, eat a normal breakfast and even get some work done before leaving the house. We flew out of Orly airport, which is Paris's secondary airport in the south. I actually prefer it to Charles De Gaulle because it's easy to navigate and it's full of windows, so it kind of feels like you're in a greenhouse. We flew with SkyEurope and again, had a great trip with them (apart from some very loud-talking Germans behind us).


Nat is excited by a Perrier vending machine at the airport. They also had PS3 stations.


This airport tow-truck looks like an F1 racer.

An Impression of Vienna

When we got to Vienna, we were in for another surprise. Instead of the usual confusion and calamity that greets us at international airports, we were pleased to find a sea of organized calm. As we were getting off the plane, we passed a stand giving out city maps and then easily found ourselves at a tourist information booth where a helpful lady set us up with even more information and two bus tickets into the city.

It seems that Vienna is perhaps one of the greatest cities in Europe. It has the efficiency of the Germans, with the beauty and love of art of the French. The result is a tourist paradise. The transit system was clean and easy to navigate, and we even got a deal on transport with a 13 Euro 3-day ticket. The transit system consists of 5 subway lines and many, many streetcar lines that have a mix of old-school streetcars along with space-age new ones. Toronto should perhaps try to learn from this lesson: it's OKAY to have non-matching streetcars (they still work!).


Michaelplatz, one entrance to the riding school.


Hofburg Palace, seat of the empire.






Honour-system newspapers dispensers.


Old meets new.


Seriously, WHAT is this ad for? Hehe.

An Amazing Hostel

Our hostel was another great part of the trip. It was clean, modern, had a great staff and had all the amenities a backpacker could need. There was a kitchen with fridges and appliances so you could prepare your own food; a pleasant eating area surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows looking onto the courtyard gardens; a laundry room; internet area and free wireless; lockers for storage; and a bar and lounge area compete with musical instruments and happy hour. Our room was a bit small but the bathroom was brand-new, sparkling clean and had great water pressure. The only problem was the motion-detector light in the bathroom, which we threw a pair of Corey's boxers over at night to stop it from blinding us. According to Nat, it was one of the best hostels she'd ever stayed in and she was quite in love with it by the end of the trip.


Our tiny room.


Washing our breakfast dishes.


Dining area had some nice art but who the hell is going to pay 2000E for a painting at a youth hostel?


The garden area.


"Will you stop taking photos of the hostel already?"

Out and About in Vienna

Although we were only there for 3 full days, we somehow managed to pack in the sights. Thursday night when we got in, we went for a walk downtown and then tried to find one of the restaurants Corey had found during his pre-trip research. We kept walking around in circles with Corey insisting that the restaurant was just a bit further, until I finally asked him to double-check his notes. Turns out we were in the completely wrong area but we ended up getting a great tour of Vienna at night. The city is bustling, lit-up and feels very safe.

The next day, after a great breakfast at the hostel, we set out for Schonbrun palace, which was the former summer home of Viennese royalty. From the outside it kind of looks like a less-ornate version of Versailles, but on the inside, it's beautiful. Our admission included an audioguide, which Corey was thrilled about (yay value for money!). With the guides in hand, we proceeded through the various rooms of the palace which had original furniture and were set up to look like they did back when they were actually in use. We learned quite a bit too. Turns out that the famous Marie Antoinette of the guillotine in the Place de la Concorde and "Let them eat cake" fame is actually Viennese. She was one of 11 daughters and got married off to a French guy, thus relocating her to Paris.

After walking through the many gilded rooms of the palace, we strolled around in the gardens outside. Corey was really excited to check out the Labyrinth, but it was unfortunately closed for the winter.


Just another palace.


Q: What do mer-people ride? A: Sea-horses (or sea-ponies perhaps).

We then headed over to the Hunderwasser Museum. Hunderwasser was a Viennese artist who worked in many mediums: paint, print, weaves and even architecture. He was a big fan of nature (and from some of his quotes, probably participated in a bit of "natural" pharmaceutical recreation) and so all of his buildings are constructed with trees growing out of the sides and tops, and uneven floors so as to re-connect the inhabitants with the sensation of the ground. The outside of the buildings were very reminiscent of Gaudi... as in very gaudy. The artwork though was incredible and for once Nat didn't start complaining of boredom 10 minutes into the museum, and Corey found a new source of artistic inspiration.


Apartment in Hundertwasser Village.


The ground isn't level so we can reconnect with the earth.






The Toilet of Modern Art, nothing is sacred.


Hundertwasser Musuem. No photos allowed inside.


Here's an example.

We also experienced the Haus der Musik (guess what that means!), and learned that Vienna was actually the birthplace of classical music for the people as we know it. Turns out that Mozart, Beethoven, Strauss and Shubert are all from Vienna and before they came around, music was only composed for royalty who then got to mix up the movements and orchestration any which way they pleased. The greats like Mozart changed this: they started composing music for the public and so the music that they wrote was very popular and "user-friendly". Of course Vienna is very proud of its stature as the capital of classical music and does a lot to promote it, including selling its famous "Mozart Balls" on every streetcorner.


Learning about sound.


The orchestra complains and refuses to play because I'm waving my wand too fast.


But they play beautifully for Nat.

Other sights we saw included the Stephansdom church, which has a unique roof. Apparently the design is original but the actual roof itself is not as it burned down in a fire in the 1950s. To rebuild the roof, the church took donations and in exchange put the names of the donors on the tiles we see up there today.


Not just another church after all.

The Land of Christmas

Last but not least, we saw the famous Christkindl Market. This is a market set up in front of city hall and it consists of many different wooden shacks, lit up with Christmas lights and each selling a different type of product/Christmas present. The market was set up in a park whose trees were lit up with the symbols of Chrismas: candy canes, hearts, santa heads. And all of this was overlooked by the imposing and beautiful city hall, the windows of which were set up as an advent calendar.




Ponies in trees. What will the think of next.


These photos don't exactly capture the atmosphere of it all.




City hall cum advent calendar. It still looks like a church to me.




Nat was so excited.

In fact, all of Vienna seemed to be gearing up for Christmas while we were there. In the main shopping streets, the city was setting up the Christmas lights, which consisted of gigantic chandeliers hanging among "ribbons" of Christmas lights. Large pine trees were set up at every major site, waiting to be decorated. It was a real treat to be around that because I kind of thought Europe wouldn't really do the Christmas thing, since it's a bit of a North American thing, but I was really glad that even here I could feel some of the Christmas magic I was missing at home.







Feeding Time

Another great part about Vienna was the food: cheap, good and LOTS of it. We ate like kings for the three days we were there. This included schnitzel, beer and more schnitzel. We ate at a place called Figmuellers, which had Schnitzel bigger than the plates and a "large" salad was really a gigantic endless mountain of food. Corey was in heaven with the value proposition of the city, and was even happier when at Figmuellers, we got seated with another party of people our age from Italy and Slovakia.


That's some big schnitzel! (That's what she said)


Our table-strangers.


Keys to the washrooms which were "outside and to the left."


This restaurant served schnitzel with cornflake coating.


Here you order sandwiches by the centimetre, only 0.15E!


"Bart, bacon that sausage!"

Nat was in heaven too, not because of the bargain-basement prices but because of the cakes! While Paris is the capital of pastries, Vienna seems to be the capital of cakes so we spent a bit of time in cafes and on park benches sampling just a few of them. These included the famous Sacher Torte (at the Sacher Hotel café of course), apple strudel and others. The rights to the invention of Sacher Torte were actually fought over by two guys: Sacher and Demel. Sacher ended up winning, so he got to name the cake after himself. Demel's café still serves Sacher Torte of course, amongst many many other kinds of cakes in a very fancy café setting.


Nat digs into her Sacher Torte.




Cake display at Demel's.


Local bakery.



One day we hit up Naschmarkt for lunch, which consisted of a Schnitzel sandwich and some very overpriced antipasto, which we ate on the edge of the street. Right next to Naschmarkt are some great examples of Art Nouveau architecture by Otto Wagner.

The other great thing we saw was something I'll call the "Punsch phenomenon". Seems that around Christmas time, the Viennese love to drink hot alcoholic punch from stalls on the street. And most of the time, this punch is served in real ceramic mugs, which the stands give out with a deposit of 2.50E. The punch itself is called Punsch and is a hot mix of juice and red wine - not particularly good, but when it's freezing outside, it's great to have a steaming hot drink in hand. We saw many different stands serving this punsch, including many at the Christkindl Market, one at a temporary outdoor bar set up at the Museum Quartier and random ones scattered on the streets.


Punsch.

The Dancing Horses!

Last but most definitely not least, Nat's beloved dancing horses. She first learned about these horses through a picture book at the public library when she was 6 years old. Her love for horses continued and she always held a special place in her heart for these horses specifically.

They are a breed of horses called Lipizzaners, which are bred specifically to "dance" at the Spanish Riding School in Vienna. The Spanish Riding School is home to the oldest riding hall in the world, and with three crystal chandeliers, also one of the most beautiful. It's called the Spanish school because the emperor at the time was seconded from Spain, and he couldn't bear to leave his horses, so he brought them with, along with grooms, riders and staff, and ordered them to build the grand riding hall in the Spanish style.

The horses perform a type of Dressage called the High School of Riding, which includes traditional dressage elements like flying lead changes and also some elements specific to the riding school such as trotting/prancing in place, rearing up with a rider and jumping forwards on their hind legs, jumping into the air and then kicking their back legs out. It's hard to describe the moves in words and even harder to show in pictures since photography wasn't allowed at the School and the website is completely copyrighted. Check out the horses for yourself here: http://www.srs.at/index.php?id=265 All the moves are based on movements the horses would naturally do themselves, and the seamless control the riders have over their steeds is amazing.

The horses that perform at the school are strictly stallions. While mares are capable of doing the same moves, they don't do them naturally and lack the musculature to carry a rider while doing them (not to mention the fact that adding a few mares to an arena full of stallions would completely distract them!).

The Lipizzaners are born black and turn white over time but not because of old age. About 20% of the horses don't turn white, and 19/20 of these stay grey and the other one is actually brown. After years of living free as part of a herd and running around in pastures building their muscles, selected stallions arrive at the school from the stud farm at the age of 4. They are then trained for 6 years before they are allowed to enter the ring. The horses are trained and ridden by a single rider for their entire careers and they live to about 30-35; they continue to perform as long as their hearts are in it. When the riders sense the horses aren't having fun anymore, they are retired to the farm in the country to breed and run free for the rest of their natural lives.

I was lucky to be able to spend a ton of time watching the horses on our trip. I attended a 2-hour exercise session where I watched 4 groups of horses go through their steps. Interestingly, the riding school uses mostly positive reinforcement- in the form of sugar cubes, kept in the coat tails of the riders jackets. The horses love to perform and seemed to enjoy being able to please their riders. I took a tour of the stables, which was interesting because the horses themselves are actually quite small at about 15-16 hands (and the divider between horse and pony is 14 hands). Despite the fact that there are about 70 stallions housed together, which normally would bring about fighting, these horses were amazingly calm and friendly towards each other. I wasn't able to take any pictures unfortunately since they ban that on the tour and during the exercises.


Ponies!

On Sunday morning, Corey and I went to see an official performance. I was so excited!!! The first part of the show featured some of the younger horses in training with the riders putting them through their paces in regular trot, prance and canter. Then the show progressed to show the fully trained stallions showcasing their skills in the Pas de Deux, the School Above Ground (jumps) and the Quadrille (a kind of ballet with 8 horses performing choreographed moves together). And all of this was in the beautiful riding area with classical music playing in the background. It was great - I was so happy to finally see them in action. Quite possibly the perfect ending to a perfect trip. :D


Nat is so excited for the big day.




Sure the Hofburg riding arena, ~300 years old, is lovely...


...but we had to lean over the railing just to see anything.


Week 12 photos on Flickr

Notre 11e Semaine: When in Rome

When in Rome… you may very well wish you were back in Paris.

Go to Week 11 photos on Flickr

Cheese for everyone!

Before we all left for our respective long-weekend journeys, the gang got together at our place for our first in-home/election-night fondue party. With a little inspiration from the menu at Fondue des Refuges and some creative license with cheese recipes culled from the web, we were able to put together a lip-smacking good time.


Cheese fondue made with apple cider.


Maggie discovers peanut butter.

And now to the rant...

Yes, my first trip to Italy was completely underwhelming and I left the city with a terrifically bad taste in mouth (or in Nat's case: canned mushrooms on a microwaved pita). I'm not sure where my fantasies of this land came from, perhaps the book Eat, Pray, Love, but I imagined that we would stroll around a beautifully coloured city, hopping between Mom & Pop restaurants serving only the finest home-cooked meals and pitchers of house wine brought to my table without even viewing a menu.

In reality, Rome is a dirty dingy city with awful graffiti lining every surface. Chaotic narrow thoroughfares fill the city, crammed with the incessant sound of car horns, heckling drivers, the rumble of construction, and the piles of scaffolding obstructing most views. And if you did stumble upon Mom and Pop, well most likely Pop would be sitting in the middle of his restaurant picking his nose, in defiance of what you might have believed was true Italian cuisine. The place simply felt as if everyone had conspired on a grand plan to bend you over and take advantage of you.

Trust me, I could rant about Rome until we have a new Pope, but I would rather not, and despite Rome not being at all what I had expected, we did have some wonderful experiences there and the remainder of this post (I think) will focus on those instead.

Out and About in Rome


The one Mom & Pop pizzeria we did manage to find.


First view of the Colosseum.


Roof of the Pantheon.


Nat ponders the Pantheon.


Ubiquitous construction site: man on tiny dumptruck.


A pretty building.


The Trevi Fountain.


Make a wish!


This woman was wishing for a better hairdo.


The gelato in Rome was superb (and also cheap). We made sure to eat some every day.


Designed by an Italian, paid for by the French, and named for the Spanish.


View from the top.


Nat is amused by tiny trucks.


The foliage in Rome was truly impressive.


A park/track in the Borghese gardens. In Paris, there would be chairs for people to relax here.


Look at me, I'm a pony.


Well, we didn't go there.


Look, it's a column wearing lingerie.


This speaks for itself.

Vatican and St. Peter's

When you walk from the subway towards the Vatican you will be approached no less than 20 times by individuals wanting to offer you expensive guided tours with the added bonus of budding ahead of the gigantic one-hour line-up. However the Vatican operation is smooth and the long line-up last no more than 15 minutes, so fear not. We were also given the student discount by an employee who I believe was skimming a bit off the top - this is based on the incorrect change I received, yet how could I complain when I already saved money?

The palace itself is ridiculously large, as all palaces in Europe tend to be, and every surface is filled with a sculpture, fresco, canvas, or some sort of ornate scroll work. It's becomes difficult to appreciate the impressiveness of this and it instead develops into an insane monotony. By the time we reached the Sistine Chapel, I had seen so many remarkable works that I wasn't sure I could fully comprehend it. Though to their credit, the Italians take this room very seriously and keep the lights dim, the crowd noise low, and every 20 seconds shout at out everyone to stop taking pictures. If this were France, Michelangelo's masterpiece would've decayed from camera flash decades ago. Even though it would have been a cinch, I was polite and chose to obey the no-photography rule.


Well this almost worked out.


Interior gardens.


Could this hallway/room be more ornate?


They actually lead us through backwards.


The Papal branding is pretty awesome.



Just another fresco.


The Vatican dictionary is missing the word 'subtle.'


A dizzying trip out of there.


Nat recalls Hannah's tumble on these steps.

After leaving the Vatican museum we headed over to the main attraction, St. Peter's square. Unfortunately the centre obelisk and its immediate vicinity were surrounded by fences so we couldn't see any of the secret clues from Dan Brown's Angels & Demons. However, the mathematical effect of standing on one of the plaza focal points is still impressive, even in the rain. But as we waited in line to enter the basilica, I asked the heavens (it seemed appropriate given the setting) to bless us with some sunny weather.

Despite having been inside several cathedrals in Paris such as Notre Dame and St. Sulpice, I was not prepared for St. Peter's. It truly is in a league of its own. Instead of ancient stone, the space is made from gleaming marble of several colours. What is most shocking is the scale. It's not just large, it's HUGE, and all the sculptures and paintings are created to this same terrifying scale. Nat said that this was a place where she could actually feel the presence of 'something' and I understood why.


St. Peter's square.


The Basilica.


Now you see 4 rows of columns...


...now you don't.


Gentlemen, please wear only magenta bodysuits.


The only time we saw Swiss Guard in uniforms. (That other man thinks he can just stroll on in.)


PapalVision™


Breathtaking.


Everything is huge.




More branding.


Our prayers for sunshine are answered.

We also decided to ascend the cupola and forfeited the elevator (that's a 1E savings people!) and headed for the stairs. After several water breaks, Nat counted a total of 529 steps to the very top. But the view of Rome from here was spectacular. From this angle it was beautiful colorful city and I could briefly ignore the negative feelings I was harboring towards it.


I was terrified up there.


From below, we thought these mosaics were paintings. No space invaders up here.


This set of steps is tilting.


The view was worth the hike.




We assumed this is where the Pope lives, but we never actually asked anyone.


Modern stained-glass?


Sending postcards from the top of the church. These will be postmarked by the Vatican's own postal service.

Colosseum and Forum

Again at the Colosseum's entrance we were met with a tangle of English-speaking tour guides offering a chance to skip the line for merely tripling the ticket price. After declining and ogling at the strange man in line wearing a shiny black velvet suit, we entered through security and promptly budded the entire line anyway by upgrading to an official guided tour for only 4E more.

Our tour guide explained all about the history of the Colosseum, its glory days and then subsequent decline and pillaging, while I had fantasized about the movie Gladiator the whole time, a movie which I downloaded the night I got back from Rome.


(T)our guide.


They rebuilt part of the stage. At this pace we could have battles in a few more years.


Token self-portrait. Do you see a pattern?


Above the gladiator's entrance arch.





Then we headed over to the Roman Forum which is massive site of really ancient buildings including the first ever paved street in Rome with its original paving stones. However about halfway through the site we stumbled upon the 'last free English tour of the day' and followed this boisterous and terrifically knowledgeable and/or entertaining guide along as he explained the slaughter of Julius Caesar while a spontaneous formation of nine Italian fighter jets roared overhead displaying smoke trails of the Italian flag.


Inside the Forum.




The guide explains the journey of purple 'VIP' marble columns.


Caesar's cremation site, his own front yard.


Fighter jets from the army expo happening in nearby Circus Maximus.

The Ecstasy of St. Theresa

In the middle of our trip I realized that I really should have brought my copy of Angels & Demons to Paris (and to Rome) and we could have hunted down some of the famous sites in the story. But while reading a guidebook in the hotel I stumbled upon a write up of the Bernini sculpture The Ecstasy of St. Theresa which I remember from the back as a significant marker on the path of illumination. The church, I think called the Santa Maria del Vittoria, was a stone's throw from our hotel so we checked it out on our last morning. Unfortunately I forgot to take a photo of the basically non-descript exterior but the inside was a magnificent surprise, a head-to-toe feast for the eyes that made this tiny space feel ridiculously huge.


The angel's spear is (supposed to be) lit be a hidden window.




This is just nuts.




Rome you were not what I expected; we had our ups, we had our (plenty of) downs, and we shared some special moments that I will never forget; but for us, I just don't think it's in the cards and I fear that we are not destined to meet again.

Week 11 photos on Flickr

Notre 10e Semaine: Roadtrip!

A detailed account of our 900km journey through Normandy.

Go to Week 10 photos on Flickr




How do we get out of Paris?

After several hours browsing the web for Parisian car rental options, we settled on Hertz who had a location just on the western boundary of the city. Nat wanted to minimize the amount of inner-city driving, since it is just plain chaotic here, and trekking out to the airport to rent a car made little sense. So we were lucky that our Porte Maillot location was open on Sundays since this city (along with every other tiny speck on the map, we would later learn) basically shuts down.

On Thursday we walked to a bookstore to find a map of France. In the basement we were quickly overwhelmed by the hundreds of options. After wandering around for ages and unfolding map after map, we were approached by an English-speaking American living in Paris who was concerned with Nat's cries of "but how do we get OUT of Paris?" - meaning she (or I) didn't understand where the main highways began. This stranger explained everything and even directed us as to which map to purchase. This man saved us countless hours of frustration, I'm sure.

So on Friday morning we headed to the edge of Paris by Metro, waited in an unusually calm French queue, and got in our 2-door Renault Twingo. The only obstacle between us and Normandy was the 100m-wide round-about: 7 "lanes" of traffic weaving in and out as they swerve around the core. Even the attendant at Hertz couldn't explain to us how it worked although she did add a hearty "Ah, now I understand why you got the complete insurance package." Yes the car was ours to destroy, deductible-free, and for only 13E a day. Anyway, Nat was a trooper and she tackled that round-about and we sailed off into the underground tunnel out of the city.


Twingo.

Villa Savoye, Revisited.

First stop on the agenda was a small town called Poissy, famous only for the fact that it is the location of the Savoye family summer home designed by Le Corbusier in the late 1920s. On my first trip to Paris in 2001, our design history professor / chaperone took us on a trip to Villa Savoye. Being his most favourite building on earth, the building was pretty hyped up for us. I remember spending hours and 3 rolls of film (yah, film!) in and around that house. We were all mystified by it back then and I went back home after that trip and painted the villa several times, every angle of the building offering a beautiful collection of lines and contrast.


Remember this one?


Villa Savoye, in the rain.


Central staircase, the masterpiece.


Main patio.


Genuine lounger, not some knockoff.


Pony in a pony chair.


Master bath.


Just about every angle is nice.



The house was no less impressive on this journey, and with my digital camera I could take as many photos as I desired. However Nat and I also spent time in the room containing all the historical documents and it was here that we learned that the house itself was actually a piece of crap. Several letters between Mrs. Savoye and Le Corbusier document an increasing battle where she details the structural problems; simply put, the house leaked just about everywhere. Le Corbusier ignored her requests to solve this problem and instead instructed her to place a guestbook in the foyer and described what type of arrangement of flowers to plant along the main driveway.

From this new perspective I viewed Villa Savoye as a bit of a failure. It was like a flashy advertisement that won all sorts of awards and industry recognition yet never delivered on the metrics set out in the client brief. Sure, it looks amazing, but it never achieved its basic goal: to be a house that people could live in. This made me feel better about my own role in life because although at times I don't feel like I'm designing any Villa Savoyes, my clients also don't call to tell me their websites are leaking.


"Villa Savoye, you're not the man I married."


The gatehouse is a mini replica.


Downtown Poissy.


"Ok so how do we get there?"

Halloween in Caen

With no real plan for the rest of the day we headed towards Caen along the main highway. We started paying increasingly higher tolls about every 15 minutes along this route. But this is the price one pays for a 130km/h speed limit. Not that our little Twingo could go any faster than that anyway. A quick stop for gas outside Rouen and a McDo espresso and we found ourselves in Caen rush hour traffic.


Toll time. Anywhere from 2–7E.


Nat gets a caffeine boost in a very nice looking McDo.




Stuck in traffic. Would you really buy it?

We had no plans for Caen but upon arrival there were 3 issues to deal with: 1. find a place to park; 2. find a place to sleep; and possible the most pressing issue 3. find a place to pee. We pulled out our trusty Let's Go Europe 2008 guidebook and managed to find the recommended hotel. It turned out to be a bit dumpy but was our self-guided tour meant it was also the ideal place to relieve one's self. I felt a bit guilty when we ditched the keys at the unmanned front desk and ran out the door to find a better hotel. But any qualms I had about the "doodie and dash" melted away when the place next door had no holes in the walls.

This was Halloween night and with the belief that the French, or at least Parisians, didn't go in much for the holiday, we were in for quite the shock. For dinner we went to a lovely Greek restaurant where we argued about from which island and which angle the beautiful frescos were painted in. But this place was also elaborately decorated for the holiday with fake web spanning the entire ceiling and the whole staff dressed as Draculas (even the baby that the manager carried around in a snugly).


Greek restaurant.



Perhaps we were caught in some (small)city-wide competition but the Irish pub down the street was even more impressive. The whole floor was covered in dried leaves; the doorways were covered in medieval archway facades; the walls were lined with creates of skulls and other nasty objects; the DJ booth was a large cemetery; and they even had steaming cauldrons of dry ice (some customers were fooling around with it and I was waiting for one of them to freeze off their fingers, but no such luck).


Irish pub. It was really dark in there.


Skulls on tap.



The next morning we got up early and visited the Chateau, a castle built by William the Conqueror in 1060.










So this is where Link brought the Triforce. Who knew?


How original.

Then we headed to Caen Memorial, a museum dedicated to both World Wars and specifically to D-Day. The first thing we did at the museum was watch a short movie with actual footage from D-Day contrasting battle preparations on both sides. We also visited the Nobel Prize gallery which was eerily empty and quiet and completely freaked out Nat. I read on the way out that it was actually a functioning bunker during World War II.


Caen Memorial.




Elevator/staircase to Nobel Prize gallery.


Pretty creepy. I couldn't even tell there was a ceiling in this room.




Giant pineapple? (And yes Iris, I saw that you made the same joke about a palm in Lisbon)

Storming the D-Day Beaches

The first stop on the coast was Juno Beach, the site where the Canadian troops landed. The brief trip ended when Nat tripped in the sand and smashed the camera, lens-first, directly into the beach. We sat in the museum foyer brushing sand out of the mechanisms and waiting for the lens to de-fog to determine how bad the damage would be. Happily the camera made it.


Canadian museum at Juno. Supposed to look like a maple leaf but it's a stretch.






"Did you drop the camera yet?"

We continued along the coast through Gold Beach and the German batteries at Longues-sur-Mer to the US cemetery in Omaha Beach.






Smurf house?


You can see pieces that remain of the temporary harbour.


German battery. This is over half a kilometre from the coast.




This one was blown up, it seems.




This bunker was on the coastal cliff.


The front.


From inside.


Monument at the US Cemetery.


D-Day map.


Just under 10,000 soldiers are buried here.




The landscaping was impressive. But of course this is France after all.

The sun finally came out, only to quickly set, as we drove 2 hours south to reach our hostel outside of Pontorson by Le Mont St. Michel.

Between Sea and Sky
or
Free Museum Day, Episode 3

After the lovely breakfast served at our hostel, we were back on the road toward our final destination, Le Mont St. Michel: a castle built upon a mountain at the end of peninsula that actually becomes an island (our used to before the modern causeway was built) if the tide is high.


Our hostel (read: the entire town).


Approaching the castle. How awesome does that look?

This castle-town was the real deal - a miniature version of Gondor straight out of Lord of the Rings. We circled round and round, higher and higher, passing over-priced restaurants, tourist shops, and museums boasting tours of hidden prisons. Eventually we made it to the castle entrance and I was delighted to discover that Free Musuem Day spanned all the way across Normandy (although technically we may have been within Bretagne borders here).






Round and round past all the junk.


Celebrate good times! Don't worry, we got there early enough to avoid the free-museum-day jerks.


A pulley system. This was too high up for me.



When we were at the top of the castle, it became clear why 10th century monks would want to build a church in the middle of nowhere: because at 350 feet with nothing but sea in (almost) all directions, it genuinely felt a bit heavenly up there.







The drive back to Paris was a mild adventure in that we decide to avoid the main highway and take some of the smaller national routes in what appeared to be a more direct path. We stopped in a small town called Villers Bocage, only because we found the name funny, to discover that all the blinds were drawn and nothing was open for business, it being a Sunday of course. Hoping that the more "major" (read: not a spec on the map) city of Lisieux would have some options we trekked on, only to be laughed at in a brasserie as the bartender found it funny we were looking for food at 2:30. And despite the numerous signs along the highway, the pizza & pasta place supposed to be open 7 days a week was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, we stormed out of another one-pony town and eventually came across the Buffalo Grill, a burger-serving haven in the middle of nowhere and the perfect place to eat when French food just wasn't going to cut it that day.


You suck Villers Bocage! Why did we even let you in the blog?




Yikes!

Eventually after sitting in gridlocked traffic, and watching motorcycles zoom by between the cars - with their 4-ways flashing, mind you - we made it back into Paris. And once again, Nat conquered the massive round-about, this time even more confusing and chaotic in the dark. So with 900km and around 100 round-abouts - the French equivalent of a 4-way stop - under her belt, Nat is now a bona fide French chauffeur.


Hooray, an open restaurant!


This is what a "well done" hamburger looks like. But it was delicious anyway.


Week 10 photos on Flickr