Tales of Two Cities

Spring!!

Hugging My Tree

  Those who have followed my blog over the years know that each time we visit Paris we make a pilgrimage to visit "my" tree at Versailles. (You can read about how I came to have a tree at Versailles here.)

Yesterday, we took the RER to Versailles to meet our friends, Robley and June, who own a neat little pied à terre not too far from the Chateau.  We haven't seen them since April 2009 when June drove us on a rutted, muddy road trying to find a way to see my tree from afar.  Read here to find out why we embarked on that venture and how it turned out.

Since that experience, we have twice shelled out 10 Euros a head for the privilege of visiting "my" tree. 

This visit we had hopes of avoiding the hefty entry fee because the Chateau itself is closed on Mondays and access to the gardens is free.

After a very enjoyable lunch at Le Limousin, a local Versailles restaurant known for its leg of lamb, we headed for the Chateau on foot.  Robley and June both set little gadgets that are able to give a fairly accurate measure of the distance walked so we would know how many miles we covered.

About 45 minutes later and after some energetic but friendly debate about which was the best way to go, we arrived at the Grand Trianon to discover that the entry to Marie Antoinette's domaine, the far reaches of which are home to my tree, was closed. 

Charles refused to take no for an answer, explaining to a very nice guard why we wanted to get into the domaine.  Helpless in the face of our obvious emotional need to commune with my tree, the kind monsieur finally suggested a pathway that might work.

Off we went, four happy hikers striding along a narrow path that soon took us into familiar territory.

Of course, nothing is ever easy and we hadn't gotten far before we realized that we would not be able to get to the tree itself by our usual route.  We would be able to see it across a trough too large and deep to leap over, but we would not be able to give my tree the tender loving care to which it had become accustomed.

Once again, Charles came to the rescue, cornering a gardener and explaining why it was absolutely imperative that we get to the tree.  Fortunately,Charles  had not lost his power of persuasion and, sure enough, a few minutes later we were following a path and looking for a small opening in a wall that would let us in.

As you can see from the photograph above, we made it and, of course, all four of us gave the tree lots of love.

I am happy to report that my tree continues to be the tallest in its row. 'Tis true that it looks a bit forlorn at the moment, but this is the norm in the early spring; the tree clings to the prior year's leaves through the winter and doesn't produce new leaves until late spring.  It is a late bloomer, like me!

Mission accomplished, we hiked back to the Grand Trianon and, as a treat for our feet, we took the tourist tram back to the Chateau.

Before we parted company at the train station, June and Robley checked their gadgets to see how far we had all walked.  Four miles, they agreed!!  Not bad for a little after lunch promenade.

 

 

Saturday Afternoon at the Jardin de Luxembourg

Sun on a cold, late winter day warms the soul even if you still need a heavy coat and scarf to warm the body.

 Read about the Jardin de Luxembourg here.

 

 

Change in Routine

We took a different route to Paris this trip, flying Icelandair (instead of Air France) with a stop in Reykjavik (instead of direct).  The trip was about 3 hours longer, roughly half of that waiting at  Keflavik Airport to board our flight to Paris. We didn't get to "our" apartment until 2 pm (instead of 7-9 am), but it would have been 1 pm if there had not been a delay with our ride from Charles de Gaulle Airport into Paris.  

Overall, we were pleased with our experience.  The service on the plane was efficient and non-intrusive without being cold.  It made me feel as though I was wrapped in serenity as well as in the warm blanket we were provided. 

One real bonus of flying through Reykjavik was that we entered the European Union in Iceland where the volume of passengers is modest and so did not have to wait through the long lines at Charles de Gaulle in order to go through passport control. 

The cloudy weather kept us from the possibility of seeing the Northern Lights on the first leg of our trip, but shortly after we took off for Paris from Keflavik Airport, we flew into the sunrise.  It was quite lovely for a few minutes before the sun was hidden by clouds.

Despite the late start to our first day in Paris, we stuck to our standard first day agenda and checked out the status of the flora in the Jardin des Plantes before eating at Les Philosophes.

The gardeners were busy at the Jardin des Plantes tidying up flower beds and grooming the grounds. Many annuals are already in the ground and a few are beginning to flower. We were delighted to find a peach tree in bloom, It may not yet be spring in Paris, but the peach blossoms promise that it will arrive soon.

By the time we finally went to bed, we felt quite settled in our home away from home.

November in Paris

I was intrigued to come across this on the Budget Travel Blog.  It makes me wish we were still there - until I think of how much we miss Emily and her family when we are away from home.

Still, I'd love to take pictures of fall foliage at the Parc des Buttes Chaumont.  We didn't get there this visit, but I will make sure that my camera and I spend some time in the Parc next fall.

Sunday at Chantilly

Well rested from an extra hour of sleep on our last Sunday in Paris (the time "fell back" here one week ahead of the US), we assessed the sunny skies outside our window and decided that it would be an excellent day to take the train to Chantilly to visit one of the more beautiful chateaux near Paris.  

A short métro ride took us to the Gare du Nord where we caught the train to Chantilly. The chateau is a 1.3 miles from the train station following a path through the forest.  It is a walk we have made 4 times in the past, so it was with confidence (and without a map) that we set ourselves on a path that would take us to our destination.

We walked and walked and walked and walked. The path (used for horses, runners and folk like us) was strewn with yellow and brown leaves. A bower of tree branches provided cover while letting  light from the midday sun dapple the forest floor.  The rains of recent days had left puddles and mud here and there. Occasionally, there was physical evidence that a horse had passed by. It was all pleasantly bracing - as we walked and walked and walked.

 

After a while, when we continued to see nothing but light at the end of the tunnel, we began to wonder if we were on the right path.  Had we made a wrong turn?  Had we not made a right turn?  Had we not made the left turn we should have made?  Of course, the answer turned out to be all of the above. 

We finally got ourselves found, backtracked and arrived at the Chateau, having walked double the distance we had anticipated.  Still, the first views of Chantilly reminded us of how striking it is and our frustration vanished.

The first order of business was to have lunch.  All of the walking and fresh air had made us hungry and it was already 1:30. 

Our destination was a restaurant we have enjoyed in the past located at the chateau's Hameau.  The small hamlet dates from 1775 and predates (and is a good bit more modest than) the  more famous Hameau de la Reine  at Versailles. On our way, we paused to enjoy the characteristic lines and symmetry of the formal gardens designed by André Le Notre.

Looking at this picture,, it is hard to believe that there were a loads of people visiting the Chateau and parks along with us.  The people in the photo give a sense of the immense scale of the park. 

We arrived at last at the little restaurant and chose to eat inside a tent structure that provides a comfortable venue in cool weather.  Many people had chosen to eat outdoors, but, seeing that most had kept their coats on, we decided that inside the tent was probably the better course for us.  The ambiance, inside or out, is definitely rustic.

Our excellent lunch ended with a tarte au poire topped with crème chantilly.  The thick whipped cream was first created by Chef Francois Vatel to be served at a banquet for Louis XIV and 2000 or so of his closest friends held at the Chantilly.  Unfortunately, Monsieur Vatel did not live to enjoy the popularity of his delectable desert.  His despair over a problem with the fish course led him to commit suicide the night of the banquet. All I can say is that the whipped cream served at Chantilly today (and I understand throughout the Oise area) is like no whipped cream I have ever tasted elsewhere.  It is to die for.  The fish?  I think not.

When it came time to pay the bill, we asked our overworked waitress about Roger, a duck with loads of personality who used to entertain the outdoor diners.  She looked solemn and said that he was no more. We immediately assumed that old age that had claimed him, but her next word disabused us.  "Renard," she said, nodding her head sadly.  Roger the friendly duck had become fox food.

Heading back to the Chateau, we wandered through the "savage" part of the gardens, stopping to watch an adult and three adolescent swans gobble bright green algae.  Their beaks made a persistent clicking noise as they practically inhaled their feast and they occasionally made  high pitched whistling sounds, presumably indicating pleasure at the feast.

Charles climbed onto a "folie" of fake volcanic rock to pose for a the camera.

The transition from the bucolic to the elegant interior of the Chateau provided quite a contrast. 

The last private owner of le Chateau de Chantilly was the Duc d'Aumale, the fifth son of France's last King, Louis-Philippe I .  The Duke left an exquisite art collection when he died in 1897.  As a condition of  the Chateau and its collections being given to France, the Duke stipulated that the paintings must continue to hang on the walls just as it was organized at the time of his death.

The special photography exhibit that we went to see included approximately three dozen 19th century photographs, all from the very earliest days of photography.  It contained a wonderful collection showing not only members of the royal family (mostly in exile) and the Chateau before and after its reconstruction circa 1870, but some extraordinary photographs taken during the Crimean War and the War Between the States, aka the Civil War.  

Once we had finished with the exhibit and checked out the gift shop, it was time to decide how we would return to the train station.  We had about 20 minutes until the next train and there was no way we could make the walk and get the train.  Calling a cab was the only alternative

We decided to take the wimpy way out.  We had already walked over 3 miles (including our wanderings around the Chateau grounds) and adding another 1 1/2 miles to that by walking back through the woods (assuming we didn't go astray again)  just didn't appeal.

There are no taxi stands and no local buses handy near the Chateau (at least on a Sunday), but Charles was able to obtain a phone number of a local taxi service.  A chipper woman answered and said someone would be there toute suite.  Indeed, the driver (the woman to whom Charles had spoken on the phone) was there in no time and cheerfully whisked us to the station with minutes to spare before our train to Paris pulled into the station.

It was a very nice Sunday.

Return of the Tree Hugger

We picked the day of a one-day, partial transportation strike and the opening of a new and important exhibit at Versailles to make our biannual visit to my tree.

Happily, we were able to bypass the crowds visiting the new exhibit inside of the palace and the strike had only a modest impact on our travels.  We noticed no delays on our way to Versailles on the RER Line C.  Coming home, there was a long wait for the train to Paris, which was unusual. Then the subway once we got to Paris was crowded to the point of discomfort.  It was rush hour, so we couldn't tell if the crowds were unusual in size.

(This if off topic, but I've got to say that one of the more amazing behaviors I observe here is folks getting on a very crowded trains and buses with a baby stroller, usually occupied by a child.  On our way home from or visit to Versailles, a middle aged woman ran for the subway just as the door was closing, jumped on, then found she had no way to stand up and keep her balance because of a stroller by the door.  She managed to lean over the obstruction, cooing all the while at the little one looking up at her with a less than cheerful mien, as she braced herself against the side of the door.  The rest of us in the area were staying more or less upright only because we were so crammed together we couldn't move.  I'm amazed at how tolerant Parisians seem under these circumstances. Babies rule!)

First stop once we got to Versailles was lunch at La Flotille.  I had a photograph with me of one of the young women waitresses there I had taken a year ago. We were very glad that she was working that day and she was pleased with her picture. Originally from China, she is leaving the Flotille at the end of the month to work at Chez la Carette, a restaurant near the Trocadaro here in Paris. 

After a pleasant lunch at La Flotille,  we set out to find my tree

As some of you will remember, our last visit to my tree provided adventure but ended in failure.  Yes, we probably saw it in the distance, but it was the first time we hadn't been able to get close.  It wasn't that we couldn't have gotten closer, it was that it would have cost us and the two friends we were with 10 euros each. 

This year, we went alone, resigned to paying the 10 euros a head to gain access to the grounds of the Petit and Grand Trianons.

We had no problem reaching my tree once made our way into the gardens.  There it was, looking healthy and still the tallest in its row.  We couldn't get very close, though, because of an iron fence and, where there was no fence, a deep moat-like trench.  Nothing could have said "stay out" louder.

But all hope was not lost!

Earlier on our walk, we had noticed that a new path had opened.  It looked like it might provide access to formerly closed off areas.  Perhaps it would lead us to the other side of the fence.  We decided to find out. It meant trekking most of the way back to the Grand Trianon in order to follow the "new" dirt path.  But we were on a mission and nothing would deter us - short of iron fences and huge trenches, of course. 

There were no "do not enter" signs, no deep trenches, no fences. It looked as though we were on the "right" side of the barriers. Still, we could not tell if we would make it to my tree. 

Finally, after working our way around a building complex, we saw that we had arrived safely (and, to all appearances legally) on the tree's side of the fence. 

Of course, I gave the tree a hug and a pat or two.  Charles spent a few minutes communing with it as well.  We took lots of pictures.  

As we headed home, we felt well exercised and happy.  Mission accomplished. 

April in Paris Means ...

... really large crowds.

This is the third year in a row that we have spent April in Paris. As in Boston,  April can be (but is not always) a lovely month as winter gives way to a glorious spring. But it is also the month of school vacations throughout Europe and the city bulges with tourists of all ages.

I don't want to be a curmudgeon about it.  After all, I too am a tourist.  But it does give those of us who have a bit of claustrophobia or who tire of standing in long lines, or who grow frustrated at not being able to see this or that piece of art because of mobs of people, many barely older than my granddaughter, taking photographs with their cell phones instead of actually looking at the art. (Well, ok, I am being a curmudgeon.)

With all of this in mind, we were perplexed about how to deal with Easter weekend.  Staying in our apartment for three days was not an option.  We decided to pick things to do that would either avoid the crowds or would make them part of the show.  And we agreed that we would do lots and lots of walking. Happily the weather cooperated.

Good Friday (Vendredi Saint) we had lunch at Au Bourginon du Marais with our Versailles friends, June and Robley.  We were introduced to this restaurant by Paul and Pam, two of the most knowledgeable people I know on the subjects of food and wine.  This second visit confirmed their opinion.  You can find it on  rue Francois Miron about a block from  the St. Paul métro walking in the direction of the Hotel de Ville.

After a delicious lunch accompanied by a fine wine chosen by June, we headed for the nearby Hotel de Sens to see an exhibit of photochromes from the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  In most cases, photochromes are mass-produced lithographic color prints obtained from black and white photographic negatives.  The collection included stunning travel photographs and postcards with idyllic images from around the world as well as reproductions of works of art.  While the exhibit was not free of other visitors, it was not mobbed and we were able to take our time enjoying works by unknown photographers whose work must have amazed a hundred years ago.

Next it was back to the rue Francois Miron to Paris Historique, a small store dedicated to preserving and educating the public about the history of Paris, in particular the Marais area. Visitors are encouraged to go downstairs to view remains of a 13th century abbey that is undergoing renovation by volunteers. Seeing it  gives just a hint of the ancient history of the city and of what still exists hidden below many of the buildings we see as we wander through the streets of the Marais.  Be warned, however.  Although it costs nothing to walk into the store and visit the ruins downstairs, you will most certainly not leave without purchasing at least one book about  Paris.

The Saturday before Easter, we decided to see what was up at Notre Dame, knowing  that visiting the inside of the cathedral would only be possible if we were willing to wait in line and put up with the mobs inside.

As we had anticipated, there were hundreds of people waiting patiently to enter the Cathedral.  We contented ourselves with wandering through the garden where I cheerfully joined untold numbers of other owners of fancy cameras taking photographs of the flowering trees and the beautiful cathedral, while trying, with limited success, to stay out of other people's shots. 

Where do all these people with DSLRs come from?

Easter Sunday was a day of walking over familiar terrain and just enjoying the lovely weather.  We strolled along the Bassin de l'Arsenal, looking at all the boats moored there:  private barges, large motored craft and a few sailboats.

 From there it was across the Pont d'Austerliz to the Jardin des Plantes, where I took pictures and Charles checked out the progress of the plantings.  Spring has definitely sprung!  

A leisurely lunch at Le Contrescarpe was followed by a walk past the Panthéon, down the rue Soufflot (named after Jacques-Germain Soufflot, 18th century architect of the Panthéon) to the Jardin du Luxembourg.

An outdoor concert by a brass band was just ending as we entered the gardens.  The last piece, Handel's Sarabande and Variations in D Minor, was followed by loud applause then a rhythmic clapping demanding an encore.  Although some of the musicians had already put away their instruments, the conductor complied and those still able to play launched into a spirited performance of the final variation of the Sarabande. 

While many of the flower beds are still not planted, the garden was looking beautiful, full of people sunning themselves in the chairs provided for public use, talking in animated groups, meandering along the many paths and watching as children sailed small sailboats on a large pond.

And, of course, there were lots of folks with cameras recording it all.

Much as I love the Jardin des Plantes, the Jardin du Luxembourg is to me the loveliest public garden in Paris. 

Twenty Euros to Visit My Tree at Versailles?

I think not.

At least not recently when we were hoping to introduce the tree to our friends, June and Robley.  No way could we ask them to pay 10 euros a head (roughly $13.25 each) for the privilege of following us through the paths behind the Grand Trianon at Versailles just to see "my" tree.

Regular readers of my blog know that, for my birthday in 2000,  Charles sponsored a tree in my name to help Versailles replace the thousands of trees destroyed in a powerful storm just after Christmas 1999.  "My" tree spent three years in a greenhouse environment before being planted in an area far from the palace, beyond the Hameau de la Reine.  Once the tree was established in its permanent location, we received a document telling us how to find it.  Since then we have made biannual pilgrimages to watch the tree's progress.  When we visited it last fall, it was still the tallest in its row and clearly thriving.

Until recently, the area where the tree is planted was open to the public free of charge.  Alas, access is no longer free.  In the winter months it is 6 euros per person and between the first of April and the end of October, the cost is 10 euros a head..  The fee lets you visit The Grand Trianon, the Petit Trianon and their respective gardens as well as the Hameau.  And, though most visitors to Versailles could care less, the entrance fee also lets you walk close enough to my tree to check on how it is growing.

Daunted but not defeated, our persistent group of four decided to see if we could find a way to get close to my tree without paying.  June, a skilled and intrepid driver, drove the four of us along a paved road beside the stone wall that encloses the area we wanted to enter.   Soon we found ourselves on a dirt road , full of ruts and muddy from the recent rains.  We pushed the car a bit further than we should have but June was able to extract it from the mire.  It was time to proceed on foot.

We climbed out of the car and continued to follow the wall, noting that every now and again there would be a break in the wall allowing us to see the area where young trees were growing in tidy rows.  Alas, deep, stone trenches discouraged all but those with rock climbing equipment from crossing at these points.

Using a map, memory from prior visits and a little geometry, Charles was finally able to say with a high level of certainty that we had found my tree. We believe that it is at the other end of the middle row of trees in the photo.

Here is a link to a picture of me close up and personal with my tree just a year ago.

Plus ça change ...

We are back in Paris!

We arrived early Tuesday morning.  After dropping off our luggage, we stopped for a quick cup of coffee then took a bus directly to the Jardin des Plantes.  We found everything looking very tidy and a bit bare with only a few plantings adding color to some of the flower beds.  The scene was brightened by one magnificent flowering tree resplendent with white blossoms (you can see part of it on the right of the photo) and another smaller tree sporting gorgeous cherry blossoms. As it did last year, spring seems to be coming late to Paris. 

 Lest you think that the Jardin des Plantes has a totally timeless feel to it, here is a picture of what greeted us as we entered the main gates.  I haven't yet decided if it is as jarring as the fire-breathing dragon constructed of recyclable materials that spent a couple of years near the main entrance, but it certainly catches the eye.

The whale, made by the toy maker  Mecano, promotes an exhibition about aquatic mammals at the Great Hall of Evolution.  We are definitely going to try to see it before we leave.

From the Jardin des Planets, we strolled along the Seine then crossed over to the right bank to Les Philosophes, our favorite "first day in Paris" restaurant.  The staff was eating their lunch when we arrived, but they gladly let us take a table and people watch until they were ready to start the lunch service.    We spent a very leisurely couple of hours there before heading back to "our" apartment to begin unpacking and, yes, to collapse into bed for an afternoon nap.

We were tired not just because of the overnight flight that allowed only a few hours of restless sleep but because we had both gotten up very early on Monday morning.  Yoda, one of our beloved cats, needed emergency attention.  We whisked her to Angell Memorial and, after discussing all of the options, decided to leave her in the skilled care of Team Yoda (Erika, her  long-term vet,  Lisa, her regular technician and Alejandro, also a technician and currently our cat sitter) and keep with the program.  Those of you who are animal lovers will understand how hard a decision that was for us.  So far Yoda is doing very well.  We are keeping our fingers crossed but take comfort in knowing that, whatever happens, she is in the gentle hands of people who care for her.