Shopping day

Today we went to Galeries Lafayette to see what we could see. Well, it turns out that we saw the perfect cashmere sweaters. Apparently every woman should own at least one in her lifetime and who are we to argue? But rest assured, folks, we only bought one each. What a place! Pictures cannot do it justice, but here it is anyway.

So that was the end of our shopping, except for the shoes, earings, stuff for Carl, and stuff for Pat. Oh yah, and our last bottle of wine, which might turn out to be our second last. That remains to be seen.

Tomorrow, our last day, we are going to spend in Montmarte, because it is the best neighbourhood in Paris.

Tour day

Yesterday was the last day to use our three-day pass, so we did the tour bus thing. We had a hell of a time finding the starting point, mainly because I took the wrong turn. It seems as though every intersection has at least six streets radiating from it, so it is easy to miss your street. We decided not to go into the Louvre ... that is a trip on its own. I was blown away by the scale of the place.

We spent a bit of time in the Musee D'Orsay, which has a lot of Van Goghs, but is under renovation so the exhibits are very limited. There was a lovely sculpture of the young Aristotle ... what a cutie.

We had dinner in the little bistro across the street where the locals hang out. The food was great, the servers were lovely, and we met a German guy who lives in Hong Kong. A great day.

La Salette

Yesterday went off without a hitch. We arrived at Gare de Lyon in plenty of time and the trip to Grenoble was uneventful. We were both extremely tired, mostly because we were worried about the alarm going off and the wake-up call being successful. The alarm was Shirley's BlackBerry, which for some reason would not change to local time. So, we set the alarm for 10:30 at night, which was 4:30 a.m. local time. And, I set up the wake-up call, but because the automated service commented in French, I was not sure if it worked or not. Anyway, neither of us got any sleep because we did not want to miss the train.

When we arrived at Grenoble, our taxi driver, Alexandre, was there waiting for us. He was a Godsend. If not for him, we would still be roaming around the Alps looking for La Salette. It is always more complicated than Google maps implies. Alexandre knows the area, although he had never been past the small town of Corps, the closest town to La Salette Fallavaux. He hunted down the last bouquet of roses in the town for me to take to the cemetary. Another bonus about Alexandre is that he took English for seven years and was eager to practice. Being that we were running on no sleep, this meant the world to us.

After Corps, the road became really rustic, a series of switchbacks, not all with guardrails, and we were at about 1,ooo metres at this point. La Salette is higher, and the Sanctuary of Notre Dame de la Salette is higher still. But the cemetary was exactly where I was hoping it would be. We came around a corner and there was the Canadian flag flying. There was a couple there from Quebec, visiting the lady's father who had died in the crash.

There was a visitor's book, and I left some information about my father that was missing from his grave. I would like to have this information added to his gravestone, and so we continued up to the Sanctuary, where I was hoping to find out who maintains the cemetary. We found out that the cemetary is the property of Canada and Quebec, and that all relevant decisions are made by the archbishop of Quebec. So that is my next project. In July 2009 a group of people went up to the crash site, brought down the wreckage, and made the sculpture which is now in the entrance to the cemetary. I placed three roses on my father's grave, one for my mother, one for my brother, and one for me.

The road from La Salette Fallavaux to the Sanctuary is even crazier that the road from Corps to La Salette. Add to this the fact that it was a cloudy day and after a certain height we were driving in the clouds. Shirley was a little concerned and asked Alexandre, because he had never been this way before, "are you afraid"? He said "absolutely not". That made her feel much better. I have been on much crazier roads in Central America, so this was nothing for me.

We made it to the Sanctuary in one piece and it was shrouded in clouds. It was a bit surreal, because here is this terribly religious place that served beer, wine, and liquor. We stayed only long enough to find out about the archbishop and headed back to Grenoble. We had to hang around there for a few hours until our train left for Paris. We got back around 10:30 and were home by 11. A long and very emotional day.

If anyone reading this blog ever gets to Grenoble and needs a guide and/or driver, you cannot go wrong with Alexandre. Here is his contact info: alexandre.marillet@taxis-grenoblois.fr. Tell him Maggie sent you.

Shirley made a couple of movies of our trip yesterday, that we have been trying to post all night. No luck ... will try again tomorrow.

Weird day

Jet lag hit us today, so we did not do much. We did a dry run to Gare de Lyon, where we get the train to Grenoble tomorrow ... at 6:30 in the morning. We have to get up at 4:30 and out by 5:00.

We did manage to go through Notre Dame Cathedral, though. I think you need a lot of time to do it justice and today was not the day for us. Other than that we did a bus tour, which we will do again on Wednesday, but on Wednesday we will stop at a couple of places, like the Louvre and Musee D'Orsay.

Tomorrow will be a long day. We leave at 6:30 and arrive in Grenoble at 9:30. Then we take a taxi to La Salette Fallavaux (see my original post from April), which is roughly two hours. I estimate that we will be there one or two hours and then we will return to Grenoble. We are booked on the 7:20 train out of Grenoble, arriving back in Paris around 10:30.

A bientot.

A day in Montmartre

Today was a blast! We walked to Montmartre, through the sex trade part of town, which appears to run about six blocks along Rue Clichy, beginning just after you pass the Moulin Rouge, going east. It is fine during the day, but it is advisable to stay away from that area after dark.

I wanted to find La Virgule and Shirl wanted to find Le Refuge des Fondues, a restaurant she had read about online. We found both eventually, totally by accident. Montmartre is a warren of tiny streets going every which way, and packed with sourvenir shops, cafes, restaurants, and art galleries. A lot of business are closed on Sundays, which is quaint for people like us who are accustomed to the 24/7 lifestyle.

We walked up to Sacre Coeur and I am not sure how to relate to it. Is it a circus or a church? It looks like a church, but it acts like a circus. There is acually a carousel at the bottom. Not only that, there are people hawking purses and cheap Paris souvenirs all the way up the stairs and on every landing on the way up to the basilica.




There was a mass being conducted while we were there, so we hung out inside the basilica for a while, until a nun crossed our path. They still wear habits, like in the old days, and I have to tell you she creeped me out. We had to leave, because I was flashing back to my old school days when I was surrounded by nuns, and Shirl was laughing at me.


After Sacre Coeur we wandered around Montmartre and that is when we found La Virgule. We stopped there for an excellent lunch (Shirl had a crepe and I had quiche Lorraine). This lovely couple offered to take our picture. To top it off, La Virgule has a bulldog named Maggie. Made my day.






After lunch we continued strolling and we came upon some really cute purses. Now, Shirl intended all along to find a purse in Paris, so this was according to plan. I, however, had not intented to do any purse shopping so imagine my surprise when I found myself buying not one, not two, but three purses. The prices are fantastic here. And Shirl is no slouch in the purse department. The thing with her is that she changes her mind occasionally, which results in changing one purse for another after the fact. There is nothing wrong with this, but I can tell you that now if we come within 50 feet of a store that sells purses, I yell "STEP AWAY FROM THE PURSES" to keep both of us in line.


Wandered home around five o'clock, stopping on the way for a glass of wine, and dessert and coffee. We are going to try the hop on/hop off Paris tour tomorrow.


By the way, if you thought I was kidding about the Shirley scarf situation, here is proof. And she found one more after the picture was taken.

No string for us

We kind of annoyed the string people today because we just kept saying "non, merci"; what really annoyed them was Shirl taking their picture. We don't feel too bad about annoying them, because in the annoyance sweepstakes they win hands down. They actually line people up to rip them off, as the picture illustrates.

McDonald's

You know you are blending in when someone who does not speak English asks you where the McDonald's is. That happened to us today in Montmartre and we were able to help the people out (in French). We had passed McD's a few minutes earlier and commented that it seemed out of place in this neighbourhood.

Our place

Our apartment is on the 8th (top) floor. It overlooks the street on the west and gives us an amazing view of Sacre Coeur on the east. That's right, we have two exposures. Not only that, we have a patio on each side, and the entrance to the rooftop deck is just outside our door.

The Montmarte Cemetary is amazing. If we do not make it to Pere Lachaise (where Jim Morrison et al are resting) we will explore this little one across the street.

We managed to stay awake until 7 o'clock. I woke up about 1 a.m. (Shirl woke up about 11 p.m.) and hung out on the patio looking at Sacre Coeur all lit up. Went back to sleep and woke up around 8 a.m.

We are outta here. More later.

Jetlagged walkabout in Montmartre

We love our neighourbood. We decided not to venture too far from our base yesterday because we were totally out of it due to lack of sleep. So, we went looking for a wine store mentioned on a traveller website. We found a whole bunch of wine stores on the way, as well as grocery stores, markets, every possible type of restaurant, pub, and cafe that you can imagine. We confirmed that the Moulin Rouge is indeed 472 feet from our apartment.

For some reason Shirley packed six scarves to bring to Paris, the scarf capital of the world. That is six that she will admit to.

Anyway, we were so bagged that we chose comfort over adventure for our first meal in Paris. Corcoran's Irish Pub is literally a stone's throw from our front door, so we bought our groceries (wine, baguette, anglaises (apricot for Shirl and apple for me, the best strawberries I have ever tasted, blueberries, and milk for our coffee) and headed for Corcoran's. Shirl had curried chicken and Carlsberg and I had chili and Kilkenny. Does the guy in the picture look happy or angry?

Terminal 3

Arriving at Paris CDG Terminal 3 was like going back in time to the 1960's. See for yourself.

Are those wheelchairs specifically for pretzeled Air Transat passengers? When we landed we were transported from the plane to Terminal 3 in buses. The last time I experienced that was in the 7o's at Mirabel airport in Montreal.

There is nothing at Terminal 3 (a one-storey warehouse-looking place) but passport checkers and transportation options. We breezed through customs because there were no people there. This is not a complaint ... we just found it funny.

Air Transat cattle cartage

How do I explain the experience of travelling for seven hours in an Air Transat plane ? Hmmmm . Hmmmm . Got it . Ever see those trucks hauling animals to the slaughterhouse ? I am not saying it is EXACTLY like that , but it is close . The seats were so close together that we could not remove our shoes without turning sideways . Poor Shirl had to take Aleve to mitigate the back pain from trying to sleep sideways . The poor lady in the aisle seat put her head down on her tray table to to try to sleep . That only works if you are really short. The aisles were so skinny you had turn sideways to avoid whacking people. The bit where they tell you about the crash position came across as passive aggressive to me . They were all chirpy and enthusiastic , but the fact is that it would be impossible for a person of average height to achieve that position ... no room . To sum up ... Air Transat makes Air Canada look good. And ... notwithstanding our trip home , I do not see "any Air Transat trips in my future .

Our Paris 'hood

This is where we will be staying for our week in Paris. Can't wait to sit on the rooftop deck with a bottle of wine and look at the Paris lights. It is just a few steps to the Montmartre Museum and another few steps to a wine store. And I think one side of the aparthotel overlooks a cemetary, so it will be quiet.

http://www.holidaycity.com/montmartre-paris/index.htm

One sleep.

I read in the Globe today that there are random strikes happening in France at the moment, and that Paris transit is being affected. Apparently the French are malheureux that the government is going to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62. Cry me a river. I am hoping that they concentrate on the city transit and not the high-speed trains that will take us to Grenoble and back on Tuesday.

Alternate route

So, I did a google walk from our apartment to Sacre Coeur and it looks as though we can avoid the string people. The only problem is that we might never make it, because there are a lot of diversions on the way, such as Irish pubs, cafes, markets, and assorted other places.

I even found this cafe that I was looking for, called La Virgule, which means comma in French. The comma is one of the most discussed items among editors, so I think it will be hilarious to have someone take our picture there so I can send it to all the editors I know. Correction: only to the editors I like ... a smaller list. We should probably be careful about whom we recruit to take the picture. If it is a stringie, he or she might take the camera.

Go google!

Sacre Coeur String people

Apparently there are these "string" people who hang around the base of Sacre Coeur, who grab your wrist, tie a string around it, and then demand payment. Sounds freaky, but it is said that if you decline to pay them they will not bother you.



My goddaughter and her friend were accosted by these people in the Spring and ended up giving them 10 or so Euros, and also ended up not pleased with themselves for caving in. They should not be too hard on themselves. According to what I have read these people are quite intimidating.



Shirley and I are armed with knowledge of this little enterprise and that will contribute to a different outcome. I can explain to the string people in Quebec French, bad Spanish, and English that we are "stringophobes" and as such must decline their offerings. If all this fails, I will just show them the "Maggie face". This has frightened people in the past. We'll see.

Four sleeps.

Countdown to Paris

Seven sleeps until Shirl and I leave for Paris.

Our neighbourhood for our stay in Paris is Montmartre, which seems to be really cool, with cafes, restaurants, bookstores, artists, not to mention Sacre Coeur, and the Moulin Rouge 472 feet away.