Home again -

And still waking up very early (not to mention longing for sleep at 8:30 p.m.!)

Unusually early morning hours are great for wading through accumulated mail. Because of all the bad economic news, I was amazed to find so many invitations salted among the bills & advertising. Came home too late to accept any - no regrets.

Seattle continues in full good-weather mode: few clothes, goofy expressions. After all, this could disappear overnight (just as it does in Paris!) Rhododendrons are glorious. I don't know if they are more opulent than usual this year (because of the cold winter?) or if it's just that I am hyper-aware, since I left town before most were fully in bloom.

I'm still a fan of the Air France flight. Even when the plane is packed full, the service is good, and the food in tourist class is just fine. We landed in Seattle exactly on time Wednesday, and it was possible to watch the landing on the tiny back-of-the-seat TV screen. This is not guaranteed to make me want to fly a very large airplane (or even a small one) but it was fascinating.

No, the picture isn't my favorite Seattle coffee shop - it's the restaurant where I had lunch in Paris on Monday. I could not resist the impulse to add one more Paris picture to the blog.

More Paris promenades -

or, "How do I make the sunburn go away??"

Paris is another place where, if you don't like the weather, you should just wait a bit. Because of the up and down nature of this month - a good day followed by rain or overcast - I wasn't surprised to see clouds this morning after yesterday's clear warmth.

The real surprise was that the clouds quickly burned off, and the day turned seriously hot. Even the natives complained (although they quickly retrieved summer clothes and sunglasses, and most women seem to have tans already!)

Welcoming any stray breezes, I walked along the Seine from the Gare d'Austerlitz to Notre Dame, then on to the Cluny museum. After the museum, I walked further into the 6th, first for lunch, then to find a bus that would take me back to the 17th. Some Parisian buses are air-conditioned, but this one made do with a vent that opened in the roof.

The Cluny, home of the "Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries, seems more beautiful and well-organized every time I go there. Because of large corporate donations, the museum has developed a number of new exhibit areas, and redeployed some of its smaller treasures (ivory coffrets, enamel pieces) to better advantage. And it's always interesting to see how the excavated parts of the huge Roman bath house that first stood on this site continue to be incorporated into "The Museum of the Middle Ages."

Here's a fragment of stained glass, mounted along with many others on a lighted wall in a dark corridor. I like the red feet on the patridges ("perdrix.")

Playing tourist -

Yesterday Paris reverted to gray windy weather, with heavy storm clouds piling up in the afternoon. Rain never happened, but the threat was there.

Today, by contrast, a hot sun came up. I got into full tourist mode by taking the Metro to Bastille, closest embarkation point for the boat trip up the Canal St. Martin. After last year's trip down the Danube, the locks on the canal looked pretty tame, but the long tunnel the boat goes through at the beginning of the trip was attention-getting.


The trip is worth doing, especially on a hot spring morning just before full tourist season. Because some neighborhoods along the canal figure prominently in French mysteries (Inspector Maigret lived on the Blvd. Richard Lenoir) and movies (Marcel Carne filmed "Hotel du Nord" in 1938 in a building that is still called Hotel du Nord, whether or not it actually figured in the movie) canal boats are evocatively named. The boat I was on was the Arletty - the one we passed, about halfway through the trip, was, of course, Marcel Carne.

Boats go all the way to Parc de la Villette, a huge, elaborate park that began to take shape more than 20 years ago, on the site that was formerly the stockyards/abbatoir of Paris.

In 1990, Terry and I took the Metro a long way out of the usual tourist circuit to see the park, which he had read about in Landscape Architecture magazine. We had it almost to ourselves that late October day, because crews were still at work, planting and shaping, and many of the buildings that now draw people to the site were still under construction.


He wanted to come back, to see the trees grown up and the park full of people. He felt sure it would be a hugely important place, and it is - that entire area of Paris continues to transform because of the park.

Across from the end of the boat ride I lucked into a "Brocante" market - antiques and collectibles, rather like the Fremont Market on steroids - or a giant "vide grenier." There were lovely things, but I resisted them all - a small suitcase is a powerful dis-incentive to shopping!

Although the commentator on the boat made sure to direct passengers to the nearest Metro so they could go directly back to Bastille, I just wandered, eventually ending up at a cafe on the corner of Rue de Lafayette and a couple of other streets. Excellent "salad cantalou" - a sort of enhanced potato salad, with prosciutto and a couple of kinds of cheese.


Then I walked on as far as the Gare de l'Est, where I got on a bus that I knew goes somewhere near my neighborhood. Fascinating ride, through some areas I've never visited, and a roundabout entry to this part of the 17th. Without being exactly sure where I was, I managed to get off at a stop that was a short walk to a street that leads directly to Rue de Courcelles, a block from Villa Monceau.

Although it's probably dangerous to think one actually knows a part of Paris, the thought is there!

With the best of intentions...

This is about traveling we DIDN'T do - and why it was perfectly all right.

On the 19th, I posted while people got ready to depart for one excursion or the other, ready to put away the computer whenever it was time to leave for Saissac, Montolieu and points in between.

And then we never made it farther than Soreze, about 3 km from Durfort. With one errand and another, Cathy and I found ourselves looking for a parking place there about 11:30 a.m., long after we had planned to be on the road. One of our tasks was to find a place for a group farewell dinner that evening, an endeavor complicated by unannounced closing days and impenetrable voice mail messages.

Without a lot of discussion, we decided it was a day to stay close to home. After picking up a loaf of bread, we went back to La Cascade, where we put together a satisfying lunch for ourselves and Carolyn, from an assortment of tasty dinner leftovers, cheese, fruit and vegetables. It was warm enough to eat out on the terrace, and we had some excellent wine to make it a celebration.

After lunch came an invitation to visit the house of another expatriate artist, as it was being readied for visitors. Later, since we were already in Soreze, Carolyn suggested we try to visit Mme. Fontanilles, who, at age 97, is still painting portraits, making elaborately-costumed collectible dolls, and writing stories based on their imagined lives.


Her favorite subject is Anais, a little Soreze girl of the 1860's, whose portrait is on the sign above her shop.

Madame and her young home helper were at home, and pleased to have company. We were entranced by her energy and liveliness. She has lived in Soreze her entire life, but now has family scattered through Europe. From Carolyn we learned that during WWII she participated in the Resistance, and occasionally hid downed Allied pilots in her house.

That night we had a festive farewell dinner at an elegant restaurant located in a building that was once an abbey, then a military school, and now contains two hotels and a conference center.


Next morning I had time for a few more Durfort photos, including this one, of the fountain where everyone in town gets drinking water that comes straight down from a protected source in the nearby foothills.

Back in Paris...

Where the weather is clear and warm and it stays light until 10 p.m.

Cathy and I left Durfort Wednesday morning, in time to drive into Toulouse before traffic got totally impossible. We made one or two extra circuits of "Centre Ville" before figuring out how to get the car back to the rental car lot at Gare Toulouse Matabiau, but once we squeezed into the correct lane, everything went well.

Toulouse, called the "rose city" because soft red brick is the building material of choice, is a lively, crowded, multi-racial city that is definitely southern, and definitely more laid-back than Paris. After settling into a formerly grand hotel that we picked for its convenient location - across from the train station - we set off for the main square, where sidewalk cafes and a busy market compete for space. To me the city felt like Southern California, in its heat, its plant material, and the mix of people. We particularly liked the market booths where women in long bright cotton print dresses and matching head wraps sold a kaleidoscopic variety of printed African fabrics.


With only part of a day to explore, we stayed close to the center, but did see the inside of the town hall (impressive 19th-century public building) and visit St. Sernin, a huge, austere Romanesque cathedral that incorporates bits and pieces of numerous earlier churches built on the same site.

After visiting the church, we enjoyed a "citron presse" (fabulous fresh lemonade) at a nearby cafe, where large trees in full leaf gave welcome shade. Later that evening we experienced true Toulousain weather, when a strong wind sprang up, followed by rain showers. By the time we finished dinner, the wind had died down and we dodged only a few sprinkles as we walked back to the hotel.

Next morning we took the train to Bordeaux, a much larger - and more self-consciously elegant city than Toulouse. Bordeaux, where all that lovely wine comes from, has been a port city since Roman times, and has impressive stone buildings dating back many centuries. It's a UNESCO World Heritage city, now busily reinventing its old downtown core into a pedestrian-friendly area that draws big crowds. The taxi driver had to insert a special card into a machine in order to drive us to the front door of our hotel, which was located just inside one of the old city gates. We were there on the Ascension Day holiday, "en vacances" along with hundreds of other people. Again we had only a brief time to explore, and there is much more to the city than we saw. (And all these photos are borrowed from the web, because I somehow never got out the camera.)

Thanks to some friends of Cathy, natives of Bordeaux, we were recommended to a wonderful restaurant for dinner. Although the menu was full of tempting items, we both zeroed in on "risotto avec coquilles St. Jacques" - a creamy risotto topped with five sauteed scallops. Special dessert of the evening was an assemblage of four flavors of Creme Brulee - lavender, rose, violet and "orchidee."

This week Cathy is off to a week's retreat at Thich Nhat Hahn's Village des Pruniers, probably a better way to decompress from a lively week in the Southwest than coming back to Paris. But I'm enjoying being back in the apartment - and definitely looking forward to coming home next week.

Further adventures in Languedoc

On Monday, under clear blue skies, we set off again to explore. This time our eventual destination was Albi, where the two main attractions are the medieval cathedral and the Toulouse Lautrec museum.

However, we also wanted to visit Cordes sur Ciel, a "bastide" (fortified hill village) north and west of Albi, and it made sense to go there first.

Although Rick Steves says to avoid Cordes because it is full of boutiques and shoppers, we found it delightful, because it's still a bit before the season. After a long lunch (longer than we wanted, but c'est la guerre) we climbed up the steep streets, looked in some of the shops, admired the view - and decided Albi would have to wait for another trip!

Today we hope to visit Saissac and Montolieu. Almost ten years ago, I spent a week in Montolieu, a "book village," on a writer's workshop. It will be interesting to see how - or if - it has changed.

Travels in Languedoc

Because we have a car, we CAN travel through Languedoc. (Name comes from the old language here, in which "oc" meant "yes." In old French, "oil" meant yes - later it became "oui.")

OK, no more linguistics. Sunday we drove on tiny twisty mountain roads to a place called Ausillon, where we checked out a "Vide grenier," ("clean out the attic") the French version of a swap meet. Nothing we desperately wanted to bring home (well, there WAS that small green enamel stove, but I can't think of a way it would fit in my suitcase!) but it was fun to look. The new town of Ausillon is nothing special, but the medieval village, up a hill from the vide grenier, was really interesting. We climbed the steep streets and staircases to get right up to the top for a panoramic view of the countryside.

After a wonderful Sunday lunch, at a small restaurant we found simply by driving into a nearby town, we returned to Durfort in time to go to tea with a friend of the household, an American woman who lives in nearby Soreze. Her house, which consists of three rooms, one above the other, is remodeled from a 14th century building, and she assured us that everything in it had come from vide grenier sales.

Here's a look into her kitchen (half of her ground-floor space):

When the sun finally comes out, this is a different place...

This morning we woke up to blue sky, sunshine, no wind, no rain, and the promise of heat - the southwest of France, at long last.

The change was almost too much to process. After all, I spent significant time yesterday stoking the Jotul stove in the living room, just to take the chill off. Suddenly this morning we put on hats and sunscreen to go to the big Saturday market in Revel (about 10 km down the road.)

I am the first to admit I take too many market pictures (and post most of them on the blog.) But there I was with the camera, letting Cathy do the heavy lifting (lettuce, tomatoes, peppers) while I played official photographer.

Others bought bread, fruit, wine, dessert (a chocolate/white chocolate/ladyfingers/liqueur somethingoranother...yum) paella and bouillabaise, and we hauled it all back to Durfort where we ate lunch on the sunny terrace sheltered between two houses, overlooking the river and the waterfall.

The market in Revel is a once-a-week event, and it takes up the entire place surrounded by the arcades. Yesterday we could park right next to the stores, and had our coffee at a table close to the cafe door.

Today we parked blocks away, and felt lucky to get the last table squeezed in between the vendors and the arcaded walk when it was time for coffee.




What would you like to buy at the market? Bread? Olives? Bunnies? Birds? This market has all of that, and more.








And for something absolutely unique, try this (actually, we didn't.) Translation of the sign is "stuffed pig's nose."

In Durfort

Where it is still raining, off and on. However, "La Cascade," the carefully restored village house where we are staying, is warm and welcoming, and we have plenty of jackets and umbrellas for outside ventures.

Our train arrived in Toulouse soon after 1 p.m. yesterday, and even with time out for a bit of lunch and some errands, we were on our way in a new Opel by 3 p.m. With excellent directions on hand, it was easy to navigate, and we arrived in Durfort after a drive through green countryside (growing greener in the rain as we watched!)

"La Cascade" is named for the cascade - waterfall - that is directly behind the house. From this bedroom, on the second floor, we look directly at the waterfall, and its sound quickly becomes soothing white noise.

This morning Cathy and Carolyn (the chatelaine) did the morning croissant/pain au chocolat run to Sureze, the nearest market town (3 km up the road.) The custom is for guests to gather whenever they wake up, to make their own breakfast from whatever is set out - coffee, tea, fruit, cheese left from last night's buffet dinner, cereal - then help with cleanup. Afterwards, the two young couples sharing this week with us left for ambitious sightseeing runs to Carcassonne and other places, and Cathy, Carolyn and I went to Revel, the nearest big town, for some necessary shopping.

Afterwards we enjoyed a cafe creme at the local gathering place, under the arcade that goes all the way around the main square (particularly welcome in wet spring weather!)

Off to Toulouse and the southwest...

Almost before the sun comes up, at that. When we went Tuesday to get reservations, the SNCF reservation agent first got us onto a train leaving later in the morning, then found I would have to pay full fare instead of using my pass. Plan B was the 7:45 a.m. from Montparnasse.

Although our hostess in Durfort says the weather is "balmy," the forecast is for more rain and cold weather. But a journey is always exciting.

Late yesterday afternoon a short, sharp thunderstorm and heavy rain washed away the gray air that lay over Paris. Afterwards a small bird I've never seen or heard before filled the courtyard with song.

After much fussing and many interesting learning experiences, I finally learned to save & retrieve pictures on the mini, and even upload to the blog. This tiny but powerful machine continues to amaze me, because I can remember when computers that filled a room could not do half the things it does.

Time to finish packing. We have to have enough time at Gare Montparnasse to get coffee (and chocolate to take to our hostess!)

Sunshine at last!

Although the forecast was for more showers and thunderstorms - and it rained hard most of last night - today the weather got steadily better here in Paris. By late afternoon, as we walked in the Marais, the sun was out and the sky was almost cloudless.

Yesterday we carried umbrellas and used them from time to time, but we were lucky enough to be inside at the Louvre when the heaviest rain fell. On the courtyard by the pyramids, the wind had blown hard enough to push water out of the shallow fountain pools.

Seeing the sights

In spite of the economy, the possibility of swine flu, and up and down weather, Paris still appears to be everyone's favorite destination.

Today we followed some of the same routes I took last Sunday, starting with the market at the Place de Bastille. In addition to the regular food and dry goods market, there was another group of tents housing jewelers, clothing and accessories merchants, and purveyors of high-class dried and candied fruit (among other things.) We did our bit for the local economy (good thing Cathy was carrying a really big shoulder bag.)

From Place de Bastille, we made our way to the Place des Vosges, where locals and tourists enjoyed the lawns (it's one of the few Paris parks where there are no "keep off the grass" signs) and waves of people moved along the paths. Neither of us had been to the Marais for a few years, and we were amazed at the crowds and the changes at street level. Where it used to be full of small shops, delis and a few large restaurants, the district now is full of high end clothing, accessory and home stores, and expensive restaurants. The delis and falafel shops remain on the Rue des Rosiers, with lines of people waiting to get in or to order takeout.

Since the weather was pleasant (in spite of a forecast for rain) we kept walking, trying to find a place to sit that was somewhat away from the crowds. We finally found a nice corner cafe, where we got a table just inside the open windows and felt we had the best possible situation.

"Are you lost?" said an American voice behind us, as I checked my Paris Pratique Par Arrondissement book to verify our location (corner of Rue de Turenne & Rue des Francs Bourgeois.)

"I don't think so." After we explained where we planned to go - down Rue de Turenne then Rue St. Paul to Quai des Celestins, our questioner, a friendly person from South Carolina, said, "You do know where you are."

Rue St. Paul, a bit out of the main tourist area, is also full of elegant little shops, but many of them have been there for more than a few years. And in the midst of the Marimekko and antique jewelry and kilims, we found what we really needed - a bakery open for business. (The good bakery on Rue de Courcelles has been closed for the May 8 holiday, so part of every expedition this weekend has been to find bread.)

Visiting markets is a wonderful way to see a huge variety of neighborhoods in Paris. Yesterday morning we checked out the market on the Rue de Poncelet (near here) then, in the afternoon, rode the Metro to the Barbes-Rochechouart stop. This is an old elevated station on the #2 line, a stop that's close to Sacre Coeur church and Montmartre.

Although we climbed partway up the steps to the church, we decided we would rather investigate the many fabric shops of all kinds that line the nearby streets. After walking past a long line of shops and sidewalk bins full of cheap clothes, shoes and household goods (everything from lava lamps to wedding dresses) we eventually came to the fabric shops, a feast for the eyes. Although many shops are filled with glitter and tinsel and tulle, the really interesting ones sell beautiful upholstery and drapery fabrics, in every imaginable weight, color and texture. You can buy dark gray coarse linen, velvets, brocades, and tissue silks too light to imagine touching. One shop offered a bin of remnants, tied with dark raffia ribbon.

Tomorrow we deal with practicalities - railroad tickets to Toulouse, renting a car to get the rest of the way to Dufort, perhaps a visit to the Louvre.

And I will make one more effort to find the pictures I downloaded onto this computer - which seem to have completely disappeared! (Fortunately I did not erase the memory card.)

Sunshine! And "le weekend" approaches...

This morning the sun came out, tomorrow is a holiday, and most of Paris appeared to begin the weekend about noon! Outdoor cafe tables were packed, and shade felt good.

I was lucky enough to be at the Jardin des Plantes late this morning, just as waves of schoolchildren were settling onto the grass to eat their lunches, and mid-day devotees of "le jogging" ran along the paths, kicking up white dust.


As a reminder of prehistoric Paris, this beast seems to have a "what am I doing here?" look in his eye.



In spite of economic difficulties, Paris is not stinting its parks and gardens. People are every bit as worried about the state of their banks as we are at home, but trees and flowers are in bloom, grass is cut on schedule, and trash is picked up.

One new thing I notice is that every large park (the Tuileries, Luxembourg Gardens, Jardin des Plantes, Parc de Monceau) has significant numbers of blue-uniformed men and women with a red "security" band on one sleeve. Sometimes they patrol in small open electric jeeps.

So far I have barely set foot inside a major attraction, preferring to stay outside or to explore by bus. On crowded sidewalks (especially in this neighborhood, where there are lots of schools) it's important to remember that French children first learn to walk, then immediately graduate to scooters, which they push enthusiastically through crowds and across streets. Only a few of the smaller pushers wear helmets - and most of the people using the "Velib" rental bikes are also pedaling nonchalantly through the traffic, with only hair on their heads.

Springtime still a tease -

...But there is no rain here in Paris so far, only cold overcast days that feel as much like November as anything else. Fortunately, I brought two sweaters. And a fleece vest. And my winter jacket. I've worn them all (not all at once -- but close!)

Monday afternoon the sun did break through, and suddenly every green metal chair in the Tuileries was occupied. Best are the low chairs that tilt you back a bit - perfect for sun-worshipping.

With a carnet (10 tickets - you get a discount) of Metro/bus tickets at hand, I walk as long and as far as I like, then look for the nearest transport home. This part of the 17th is well-served by buses, and the Metro line has plenty of transfer points.

Today I took the bus to the Luxembourg Gardens, walked back through the Latin Quarter, stopped in at Shakespeare & Co., Notre Dame, and wandered past the Hotel de Ville (where a nice new pedestrian plaza routes cars elsewhere, and makes a true gathering place.)

Moving this way through the city, without much of a plan other than to enjoy whatever comes along, pulls the map firmly into one's consciousness. I've now been in Paris often enough that I suddenly come upon familiar blocks, intersections, places where I've eaten or shopped or even stayed in the past. (On Sunday, a long walk took me across the river from Notre Dame, to the building where Terry and I rented an apartment for 3 weeks in 1990. From the outside, it looks just the same, although I'd be willing to bet the apartment itself has been massively upgraded, because of its amazing location.)

In spite of crowds of tourists and others thronging the streets, the Latin Quarter is still a good place to eat well, for not much money. Today I got a crepe from a stand on Ste. Michelle and took it across the street to eat in the park by the Cluny Museum.

After admiring the low fences, woven of branches, that surround the planted areas and define walkways and sitting areas, I read the placard nearby, and discovered that in 2000 a couple of French landscape architects ("architectes paysagistes") were given the interesting task of re-thinking the garden space. They worked with plant material already in place, as well as bringing back trees and shrubs that might have been part of the gardens when Cluny was a religious house. The result is a series of pleasant public sitting areas, divided from an area that is private to the museum - a few feet from a very busy Parisian boulevard, you can eat lunch, watch the passing parade, yet feel quite sheltered.

Monday in Paris

This morning I woke to the swish swish of the cleaner's broom in the courtyard below the bedroom window. On Mondays he takes garbage cans from the shed to the street for pickup, cleans the courtyard and garbage areas, and vacuums the halls & stairs.

On the ground floor are several medical offices, very common on this short cul-de-sac that opens off a major street. The tiny elevator goes to the 6th floor (American 7th) but I've never been higher than the 3rd, where this apartment is located.

After some fiddling with THREE remotes, I've managed to pull in both TV and radio. First thing I saw on the CNN website was the same Croatian tourism advertisement that played constantly as Nancy and I floated down the Danube last year!

This year's contender for Beautiful Advertising Photos of Balkan Places is Macedonia, which promotes itself as a place to do business rather than a tourist destination.

Meanwhile, the most interesting news in on Al Jazeera English. Nice to get a different perspective from time to time.

Yesterday I checked out the big, noisy, cheerful market on the Place de la Bastille, and took a few pictures.

I should apologize to Monsieur, as the wind blew the plastic bags just as I snapped...

Spring is a tease...

After yesterday's warmth and sunshine, today began gray and cold (though the sun came out later.)

First priority was marketing. Near here is a wonderful market street, Rue Poncelet, where you can find every imaginable ingredient for your own culinary efforts - or buy the dishes already made.

Today I wanted someone else to do the cooking, so I bought half a poulet roti and a small container of ratatouille.

"Do you want the sauce for the chicken?" asked the rotisseur-in-chief. When I said yes, he dipped juices from a big tray under the rotisserie into a small recycled glass jar. I will use it for soup starter when I'm down to the chicken carcass.

I also bought first of the season raspberries, on special all over the market, cherry tomatoes, mixed greens and a small baguette. It's enough to keep me in meals for a while.

Shopping here is entertainment, exercise and language practice, all at once. Also an exercise in patience, I decided, when, later in the afternoon, I went to the neighborhood Monoprix for milk, yogurt and so on. French grocery checkers sit at their stands, and take their time, even on a busy Saturday. They know you can't do anything BUT wait - and if you're in line when the cash register tape runs out (I was) - tant pis.

But every customer politely says "Bonjour, madame," when it's his or her turn, and the checker almost always wishes you a "bonne journee."

Vive la France!

How cool is this?

Specifically, free wifi on a speeding train. With beautiful green, gold and brown fields rushing by, and Paris ahead.

This is a major holiday weekend in Europe, and the train is packed with people going Somewhere Else. Lots of families traveling - it seems to be a popular holiday for 3 generations to take together.

Last night Bruges geared up for May Day and the May Fair that will last most of the month. From my 4th floor room I had an unobstructed view of the fireworks display that kicked off the festivities.

Now on to Paris, where I can retreat to the apartment every night and pretend I'm not a tourist. On this visit I may even figure out how to work the television - last time it required coordination of two separate remotes.