Our Return to Europe Post-Pandemic

Our Return to Europe Post-Pandemic

Our last European vacation was in the fall of 2019, before the world experienced the COVID-19 pandemic. There was no travel whatsoever for a good long while. In the fall of 2021, we spent a weekend in a cabin in the mountains, then a long weekend in New Orleans. Both trips were just to get away from home for a spell. In 2022 we went to Orlando with family for a week, spent a week in the Rockies with family, and then spent a week in a beach house on the Outer Banks with our kids. We did travel to Mexico during the winter earlier this year and returned to New Orleans for another long weekend. We missed exploring Europe and knew we wanted to return this fall, but the destination was tough to pick.

We like exploring new places but have a long list of locales we enjoyed and would like to go back to. We batted around a lot of ideas for a while, but then settled on a mixed bag. We would return to Paris to see many things our short two night stay back in 2015 didn’t allow. We would then add two new countries to the trip to provide for wholly new experiences. Thus, after looking at how long the train rides were, we decided to add Belgium and the Netherlands to the itinerary. We selected Bruges in Belgium because there is one of the few Michelangelo’s outside of Italy there. Amsterdam was top of the list because of the canals, architecture and art.

Day 1 – September 8th (Back Over the Pond)

As usual for our international flights, we are departing from Dulles in the Washington, DC area. We dread the drive, but difference in fares is a convincing argument. The traffic on the drive up I-95 is thick. If you go the speed limit you will get run over. There are plenty of crazy drivers pulling dumb stunts and weaving in and out of traffic. By the time we make it to the airport, I am worn out from being on edge the whole time. Maybe we need to reconsider and take a more thorough look and finding a connecting flight out of Richmond. The parking ramp situation in Dulles has changed and we find ourselves in ramp 1 instead of 2. Ramp 2 is now only by reservation. This works out just fine as while ramp 1 is tad further from the terminal, the whole walk is underground and out of the heat of the afternoon.

Our flight was booked through Delta, but the flight is being operated by Air France. From the Delta desk we are directed to the Air France check-in area. We get checked in and our luggage tags printed and attached. There is a bit of a line to wait in for the baggage drop, but things move along pretty well. While in line an Air France employee comes along and runs folks through the standard international travel questions before putting a sticker on our passports. Once at the front you load your bag on a scale built into a conveyor belt. You scan the bag, it weighs it, and if everything is OK it whisks it away to be loaded on your flight.

We left home about four and a half hours before our flight to allow for traffic issues and other potential delays at the airport. We have done well and have roughly an hour before our flight begins to board. This is due in part to a delay for weather. We have only our small carryon bags, and nothing that needs to be put in overhead storage on the plane. Therefore, we will be in no rush to board as soon as possible and we can wait towards the end of the whole process. We wander the terminal and finally settle on Carrabba’s which has an open table in the bar area along the concourse. We have to order at the bar and Rhonda gets us a bottle of white wine to accompany our cribbage games. We unwind from the drive and bustle of getting ready to go. The wine is passable and the cribbage fun as we get the vacation started.

Eventually we make our way to the gate where we hear the boarding announcement in English and French. We picked our seats when we booked our flight with a bit of trepidation. The plane in coach has a 3-4-3 arrangement for almost all of the rows. The last row for before the mid-plane galley and restrooms is 2-4-2. We choose the two seats by themselves. It gives us plenty of space with no one next to us, but with the restroom right behind us we will hear the percussive swoosh of the vacuum each time the toilet is flushed. I think the two things balance each other out to some degree. Earplugs after dinner with help with blocking out the swoosh.

Dinner on the planes is a mix of good and just OK. The wine we choose with our meal comes in small individual plastic bottles of about twelve ounces. I notice that the wine is French, which is appropriate for the airline. The crew is helpful and pleasant. After dinner both Rhonda and I get some more wine to help with sleep. Sleeping on planes is always a challenge. We are going to lose six hours during the flight and it will seem like 2:00am instead of 8:00am when we land. We each watch some shows on the seatback video screen and try to catch some sleep. I am moderately successful and get two to three hours. Rhonda is only marginally better than I am.

Day 2 – September 9th (Paris to Amsterdam)

We are awake when the sun begins breaking above the clouds we are flying over. Things look pretty well socked in below and the clouds form an unbroken blanket of undulating rows. As the sun rises it tints the tops of the clouds and starts to create waves of pink tipped clouds. The rosy hue spreads quickly and soon the magic is gone. Sunrise above the clouds can be quite lovely. The attendants are providing coffee and a light breakfast to everyone on the plane as we cruise over Ireland, England and the Channel. Soon landing preparations are underway and we start to feel the plane descend. The rain is pretty heavy as we touch down on French soil.

Customs is different than the old days. Now you have a queue to approach a machine that scans your passport and takes your picture. I suppose it might be making a comparison to what is in your passport. There are attendants handy because many people cannot figure out the process despite the clear instruction everywhere. Once you scan your passport, a gate like tall batwing doors opens up and you step forward. The doors close and you find yourself facing another set of similar doors. They have you trapped. You face the screen with a built-in camera. I stoop a bit to get my face in the area the screen designates. The machine likes me and the lights on either side turn green and the gate opens. There are customs officers manning a row of standard booths on the far side of the bank of scanners. They stamp your passport without a word being exchanged. The whole process takes us about twenty minutes given the number of people arriving in the morning.

The next leg of our journey is a train ride from Paris to Amsterdam. Charles de Gaulle airport is far north of Paris and we need to get to Gare Nord where the Thalys trains depart from. Gare Nord translates to North Station and is one of the larger train stations in Paris, of which there are several. All official taxis charge a fixed rate to and from the airport and certain regions of Paris. It is fifty-five Euro if you are heading to the right bank of the city center, which we are. After gathering our bags, we stroll to the taxi stand and are soon on our way. It is a Saturday morning and traffic around Paris is heavy but moving. That stops being true as we get close to the station and run into construction traffic. The driver is resigned to the delay, and we are not worried. I have left plenty of time in my planning.

We arrive safely and make our way into the massive terminal. The rain has abated, but it is a hot day. Not much air is moving in the terminal, and it borders on uncomfortable. The taxi ride has taken about forty-five minutes, but we have about that much time before our 12:17 train will start boarding. We approach a quick serve kiosk in the terminal to grab a bite and some water. We get a baguette with chevre and sun-dried tomatoes along with a couple of bottles of water. The next challenge is finding someplace to sit. The station is busy on a Saturday. There is an odd arrangement of benches and stools in one area and we find a space to squeeze in to with our large bags in tow. The sandwich is very tasty. There is a bottle refill station close to us and we make use of it so we will have some water with us on the train.

Not far from us we spot a middle-aged couple. We are amused to watch her get up and check the board for a track number every few minutes. It is like she is trying to will the board to magically assign her outgoing train a track number. As our time approaches, we check for a track number ourselves and find we have one. Trains turn quickly in Europe. Everyone departing on our train starts to gather at the head of the platform. The Thalys employees are keeping folks at bay as the travelers who have just arrived debark. While waiting, the configuration of the train is displayed on screens at the head of the platform. This will allow people to know where their coach is. We are in first class coach 12, which will be further down the platform.

About fifteen minutes before departure the train has been cleared and people are free to board. There are twelve cars and four engines in the train, divided in two halves. Each half is an engine followed by six coaches and then another engine. We walk briskly down the length of the train until we get to our car. The attendant scans our tickets and tells us we can stow our bags in the storage area at the front of the car. I heave the bags up and we roll them to the front. I have to rearrange things a bit but get them stowed soundly. We walk back and find our reserved seats, which are very comfy.

The trains in Europe are fast and efficient. There is no click-clack noise as the train runs because they weld and burnish the separate rails into one long track. Once the car is loaded and the outer doors stop opening and closing, the air condition begins to catch up and things cool down in the car. The seat is wide and has wings at head level, so it is easy to turn your head to the side and catch a nap. With such a smooth ride I manage to get some more sleep as we cruise northward. The train only makes four stops between Paris and Amsterdam. When we stop in Rotterdam I wake up. From this point I will watch the Netherlands countryside. The terrain is flat and covered in fields of various types. There are a lot of cows too. I suppose all of the milk for the wonderful Gouda cheese has to come from somewhere. You occasionally spot an old-fashioned windmill continuing to do its work of pumping water to maintain the farmland. Here they have to pump the water out of the fields to keep them from becoming swamped, while in most places they have to pump water into the field to get things to grow. Things become more urban as we make our penultimate stop at Schiphol airport on the outskirts of Amsterdam. From Schiphol things slow down a bit as the train makes its way around Amsterdam to the west to arrive at Central Station in the heart of the old city on the Amstel River.

The Amsterdam Central Station presents us with a new challenge. We gather our suitcases, walk to the escalator and descend from the platforms down to the concourse. There is a way out of the station on either end. However, there are gates and scanners blocking the way out. We see things like this all the time to get into a subway station, but not exiting a train station. This perplexes us and we have to ask information about what the procedure is. He tells us just to scan out ticket we used to board, and it will let us out. We also ask the fellow where the terminal to purchase GVB passes is since that is our next stop. GVB is short for Gemeente Vervoerbedrijf, which is the public transit system in Amsterdam. Armed with information I dig out our tickets and we are successful in exiting the station concourse. We see lots of red ticket machines, but they are all for Inter-City rail. We keep walking and eventually come to the blue machine we want.

A week ago our host for the next two nights let us know that the tram was the best way to get around town and get from the station to where we are staying. I did some research and found we could get a two-day unlimited ride pass. I also downloaded the GVB app on my phone, which is immensely helpful during our time in Amsterdam. From wherever you are, you tell the app where you want to go. It plots a course telling you to walk to a certain spot to catch a tram, which number to get on, which stop to get off or transfer at, and then the shortest walking path from there to your destination. The 2 and 12 lines will be our friends this weekend since there is a stop a block from our B&B. The trams are quick, quiet and frequent. They run on rails set in the street and are low to the ground so there isn’t a big step up to board. You board via the doors at the back or front and exit from the middle. All in all, it is an impressive mass transit system.

Walking outside we see the tram stops for all of the lines across the street. We find the proper line and are soon on board and heading south. The tram displays all of the stops on the line, highlighting the next one. We are not going far, just five stops down to Keizersgracht. The heart of old Amsterdam looks like a semi-circular spider web. The very center is where the spider sits is the old center of town, near the central station. There are some canals running outward, away from the central area and river like spokes. Crossing the spokes are parallel rings of canals. The various trams will run down roads that run in between the spoke canals and make stops along the rings. The canals all have names and the small street bordering the canal has the same name as the canal itself. We watch the city pass by and look for our stop. The Keizersgracht stop is on the bridge over the canal by that name. We haul our bags off and walk a block along the canal where it meets the next spoke canal, Leidsegracht. Our destination is just around the corner.

We are staying at the B&B Blossom. We turn the corner and walk a couple of doors down. We see no sign. I check the address in my notes and find the correct door. Just then an older gentleman pops his head out the door and greets us by name. This is Joop, our host. He takes Rhonda’s bag and invites us to come in. Our apartment is on the first floor, just inside the front door. Many B&Bs in Amsterdam rent out a single apartment which is the whole first floor of the building. Joop leads us into the living room which has a table for two by the front windows, a loveseat, plush chair and fireplace. We won’t need that as the day is warm. The table has a plate with some fruit and chocolate bars on it. Straight back is the bedroom and bath. I thank him for the tip on the tram and he asks if we would like something to drink and a small snack after our travels. We gratefully accept. He asks what we would like to drink and Rhonda selects wine and I a beer. I am in the Netherlands after all. He says he will be back with a tray for us out front. We quickly unpack clothes for the next two days and then proceed out to the front step.

There is a small bench for two on the landing at the top of the small run of steps up to the front door. Joop has brought out a small metal tray that he sits on a set of legs, making it a table. He pours our drinks and presents us with some olives, nuts and cheese with mustard for dipping. He asks about our plans, and we have a pleasant conversation in which he provides several suggestions for various activities and dining locales. There is a restaurant on the corner which he recommends that we decide will serve for dinner tonight. They are still setting up, but he says we should stop in to make a reservation since it is a Saturday, and they tend to fill up. Joop is full of good information, and we have a great chat. After confirming a time for breakfast, he asks us to leave the tray inside on the hall table and then retires to leave us to relax. It has been a long journey from Richmond by car, plane, taxi, train and tram to get here. We are more than willing to stop moving for a bit.

I do trot a few doors up to make a reservation at Pastini. We have no problem getting an outside table for two at 6:15. I return to Rhonda on the bench, and we enjoy the breeze and the refreshments. We have never had Gouda with mustard, so we give it a try. It is a thick, creamy mustard that is only slightly yellow. Lightly dipping the Gouda in mustard proves to be a good combination. As we sit and unwind we notice how quiet the city is. Amsterdam is the bicycle capitol of Europe. There is always a steady flow of bikes going this way and that. There are many boats cruising the canal, but we note that the vast majority have electric motors. There are very few cars to be seen moving about. Many small cars are parking along the street under the trees, several of which are plugged in. Really, the rare car is the noisiest thing around. The scene is equally as pleasant as the quiet atmosphere. The canal is wide and bordered by rows of trees on either side. There is a narrow lane that runs between the tree lined bank and the buildings, with a small sidewalk along that. The numerous trees provide ample shade and compliment the old brick buildings found here. The architecture is very pleasing with all of the tall, narrow buildings shoulder to shoulder with one another, lining the canals.

As dinner time approaches we wrap things up. We put the tray and legs in the hall as requested. We freshen up and prepare for evening. I don’t want to carry my bag out, so tram passes, room keys, a credit card and cash are all we take in addition to our phones. The restaurant is just getting started for the evening. We take out seat outside, with both of us side-by-side so we can watch the procession of people. As mentioned, the restaurant is on the corner where two canals meeting. There are bridges in every direction and lots of people on foot and bikes pass by. The food is excellent. We share a tuna tartar with some mango and a lively sauce. Rhonda enjoys a mushroom pasta with spinach and goat cheese. I continue the fungi theme and have the veal in a mushroom and calvados cream sauce. We take our time enjoying the meal, the wine and the scene. We notice that bare midriffs are the dominate trend for women in this unseasonably hot weather. We start a count but give it up long before the meal is over. When we are ready to move on we take the short walk to the tram stop on the bridge and head to the heart of town.

It is Saturday night in Amsterdam. What better place to people watch than De Wallen, the central area where the red light district and most activity is located. After debarking the tram at Dam Square, we point are feet to the east. We wander along small streets and peer in the windows of the shops. The cheese shops are glorious. As we get closer to the red light district we come across a store named Comdomerie. It is just what it sounds like, a condom boutique. The window display attracts a lot of attention. Condoms of all colors and sizes are strung like fish on a line and draped across the windows. Various other related materials are on display, but the multiple strings of condoms steal the show. We eventually come to a wide canal named Oudezidjks Voorburgwal. The street has a few windows, but mostly coffee shops. Coffee shops are where you go to buy cannabis products. There are no open containers or open smoking allowed in Amsterdam, which several sign around will remind you of. If you want to toke up you need to go into the shops. Despite that, as you walk along the street you catch the occasional strong scent of marijuana wafting by. While there are lots of people along this canal, it doesn’t seem as busy as we would expect. We cross a bridge and continue east. Then we come to a smaller canal running parallel to the last named Oudezidjks Achterburgwal. This is where all the people are.

Interestingly, the foot traffic along this canal is one way on one side and the other way on the opposite side. Some bridges are blocked off, so it creates a great big loop of pedestrians circling this long stretch of canal. The people are pretty thick and windows with red lights, bars and theaters dominate the area. We stroll along taking in the scene and the people on hand. The girls that are available stand in their rented windows with the curtains open. When they are engaged the curtains are closed. You are not supposed to take pictures of them as they are busy at their job. If they see someone with a camera or phone out, they will rap on the window as a warning. People can wind up with their cameras in the canal if they ignore the unwritten rules. We are looking for a place to sit, have a drink and observe the show on display. Outside tables are few and at a premium. We see a bar with and upstairs and an open downstairs. We head downstairs, but it is too hot. The bartender says the space above is enclosed, but air conditioned. We head up the stairs and enter the appropriately named Red Light Bar. There are two windows with tables overlooking the street, but they are occupied. We opt to get a couple of drinks and sit on the bench next to the table with a good view out to the street.

There are a couple of young women at the table to our right and three young men from New Zealand at the table to our left. As it will turn out, we are all playing the same game. Across the canal we can see eight different windows with working girls in them. We all watch as different men approach from time to time. The girl opens the glass door and there is a short conversation. They are probably inquiring about a rate for a particular service. Most of the time the guys wind up walking away or going to another window. Most of the girls stand in their lingerie and gaze out at the crowd. One blond moves seductively and we are surprised more aren’t more active. At one point the blond gets a customer and the curtain is closed. We overhear the girls next to us talking and we all are taking note of the time. We strike up a conversation with them and share a laugh. We are all curious to see how long things will take. While the blond is occupied a brunette snags a customer and a second countdown begins. In both cases, the girl is only away from the window for about fifteen minutes. The New Zealand guys leave and give their table to Rhonda and I. I fetch another round and the game goes on. We start paying more attend to the crowds strolling the canal. I imagine most, like us, are just spectators. When Rhonda and I are walking together, regardless of where we are, we are usually holding hands. We don’t notice this behavior much in other couples. The red light district is a different matter. Most all of the couples here are holding hands. We imagine it is either the female being possessive, or the guy letting his partner know that he is not going anywhere. We find this observation very amusing.

After the second round is drunk, we decide to move along. We walk back to the Dam Square, which is a large central square a little west of De Wallen. The two major features of the square are the Royal Palace and the central monument. The palace is no longer a royal residence, but it is used to host special events. There are a number of restaurants and bars with outside seating lining one side of the square. We stop into Café Zwart for a nightcap. We start at an inside table in an open window. The music further inside the bar is too loud and as soon as an outside table opens up we move out into the breeze and quiet. The constant flow of humanity provides good sport for our favorite occupation of people watching. It is approaching midnight and we have had a great night, but we are spent. We cross the square and sit at the tram stop. After a few trams go by we wonder why we are not seeing a 2 or 12. Rhonda mentions this to a lady next to us and she says the 2 and 12 run up and down the next street over. The trams stop running shortly after midnight, so we are concerned there may be a long walk in our future. We make it to the station and are able to catch the 12 down to our stop. The bed is very welcome as we collapse at the end of a long day.

Day 3 – September 10th (Amsterdam)

We are thankful to have slept in a bed. We both woke up a couple of time due to our circadian rhythms being a bit out of whack, but at least we are rested and ready for the day. Rhonda makes us coffee with the Nepresso machine, which we are unfamiliar with. The first cup comes out as hot water. Joop arrives with breakfast and things are sorted out. He lays quite the spread on the table. There are two soft boiled eggs, cheese and pâté, fresh rolls, a wedge of watermelon, apple tarts and fresh squeezed orange juice. We can’t eat it all. We set the tarts aside for the train ride tomorrow and enjoy what we wish. Everything is very tasty and we enjoy a leisurely breakfast while gazing out the front windows at the scene beyond. While we break our fast I check the GVB app to see how long the journey to the Rijksmuseum will take. It opens at nine and we want to be there early to avoid some of the weekend crowds. Once we are replete I put what we need in my shoulder bag and we head out into the day.

Today will be the hottest day of our trip. It is unusually hot for the Netherlands in September and the temperatures will be in the nineties this afternoon with a lot of sun. The morning is warm, but tolerable. We follow the app to the appropriate tram which drops us very near the museum. The museum building itself is quite the edifice. It is very large with twin towers that reach to the sky with gilt weathervanes on top. The russet bricks are contrasted with white stone trim and reliefs. It works very well together and makes things pop to the eye. Between the towers on ground level is a wide passage that looks like it used to be a two-lane road that ran through the museum. It is just for bicycles and pedestrians now. There are entrances on either side of the pass-through, but we are told we need to purchase our entry tickets at the build behind the museum, in the park. We find our way to the back and are soon in possession of the modestly priced tickets. We admire the statuary on the back side of the museum including one fellow who amuses us quite a bit. He looks very thoughtful with his finger on his chin and raised eyebrows as if he is observing and contemplating the people walking below.

The museum is organized by time period with the works by the famous Dutch masters are on the second floor where all of the works from the 1600s are located. They occupy the whole floor, while the first floor is split half and half between the 1700s and 1800s. We are here primary for the Dutch masters so we ascend to the second floor to start our visit. The stairs bring us up to the Great Hall, which has ornate vaulted ceilings like a cathedral. The hall has mosaics and paintings on the wall that tell the tale of the Dutch people. The most prominent feature is the numerous stained glass windows depicting the different trades and artisans that built and made the Netherlands the nation it is. It is unusual to see so much stained glass put to use for non-religious purposes. From the Great Hall the Gallery of Honour heads straight back to the Night Watch at the opposite side of the museum. Two great loops of multiple smaller galleries make their way left and right from where we stand and meet of at the back of the museum. All roads lead to the Night Watch. We decide to start off with the first part of the 1600s to the left. We should have proceeded straight back up the Gallery of Honour while it was not busy, but we wouldn’t learn this until later.

There is a mixture of artistic works in the galleries. While paintings are the most populous, there are decorative arts from the period also present. We take our time and admire the detail work in the various paintings. I remark at how well Rembrandt van Rijn could capture a face and have it draw you into the painting. One painting we spend quite a bit of time with is The Banquet at the Crossbowmen’s Guild in Celebration of the Treaty of Muster by Bartholomeus van der Helst. The canvas is as long as the name is at almost eighteen feet wide. One of my favorite features is how the artist painted the observers of the festivities, us, reflected in the shiny breast plate and drinking horn of one of the celebrants. It is here I must make mention of a wonderful art appreciation aid the Rijksmuseum provides. In a bin by the most famous works, like this one, The Milkmaid, The Merry Family, The Threatened Swan and many more, there are large 11x16 cards. On these cards are reproductions of the works they are expanding on. Various details in the painting are highlighted and linked to a paragraph explaining unusual painting techniques, or features in the painting that would go misunderstood or completely missed by the modern viewer. These are things like why people wore certain articles of clothing or display particular items on tables and in hands. Allegory that was particular to the time period is often explained and helps us understand the message the artist may have been trying to convey within a seemingly innocent work. I found these cards very valuable to help me learn a lot more about the paintings and appreciate them even more.

We enjoy our time wandering through the early 1600s. The art is wonderful. We eventually make it to the Night Watch gallery where it and other large format canvases of a similar theme are located. The featured painting by Rembrandt van Rijn is remarkable. Unfortunately, it is removed from close observation by a large glass room and a lot of sensing equipment. The museum has removed the canvas from the frame and has it near its normal place. There are lasers that are watching for and recording vibration in the canvas caused by the most unassuming of things, the HVAC equipment. Being such a large canvas, the museum is worried about damage the vibrations caused by forced air flow can cause. Once they finish their analysis, they will remount the canvas and find way to support and stabilize it from behind. A noble effort to be sure. It is interesting to see the border of the work that is usually hidden by the frame. I am sad to not be able to get close to the work and must resign myself to appreciating it from afar.

We turn around and begin to wander up the Gallery of Honour towards the Great Hall. This is where many of the most famous works in the museum are kept. They are hung in galleries with contemporary pieces by the same artists in nice groupings. It allows you to see some of the famous artist’s lesser known canvases compared side by side with the one you know. I never thought much of The Threatened Swan when I saw pictures of it online or in books. Viewing the large canvas up close is a different experience. With the detail card helping explain some of the allegory, you can get up close and appreciate the delicate brushwork that is lost in reproductions of lesser size. Unfortunately, crowds have started arriving and the Gallery of Honour is getting a little crowded. We persevere and spend the time we want with these fantastic works of art.

When we make it back to the Great Hall we decide to find a restroom, which is downstairs. From there we wander into the 1700s. One item to be seen here is the Haarlem reception room. It is a gallery that has be converted into a room from 1794. Except for the ceiling, everything in the room was originally in a reception room of an art collector that lived in Haarlem in the late 1700s. Everything was removed from the original house, then restored and reconstructed here in the museum. It is a fantastic glimpse into another period of time. At one point as we wander there is a mother with a toddler that is throwing a tantrum. The mother is trying to calm the child when a docent comes by and escorts the couple out of the galleries and away from the rest of the patrons. This seems unusual by American standards, but we are appreciative. We notice that we are getting a bit peckish and realize we have been wandering the museum for about three and a half hours. While I could easily spend the rest of the day here, there is more of the city to see. As we exit the museum onto the passageway that runs through the building, we hear music. A group has converged to one side, out of the path of the bikes. There is a quartet playing a movement from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The quartet consists of a violin, two accordions and a double bass balalaika. It is a reverberant and full sound which I really enjoy. The double bass balalaika is a monster of an instrument. After some applause, the group moves from the classical to the more modern with the theme from Pirate of the Caribbean. Catching the musical interlude has been a happy accident.

We make our way out onto the street and walk back towards the way we came. We remember there being a restaurant or two with outside seating and we are hoping to find a table in the shade. The early afternoon is downright hot. We are in luck, the Café Hans en Grietje (Hansel and Gretel) has a table that has just opened up. It is outside in the modest breeze and under the shade of their awning. It is also a nice people watching spot. Rhonda has a salad with apples, walnuts and a large slab of goat cheese. I have a pancake, crepe really, with cheese. We take our time and enjoy the shade and parade of entertainment walking by. After lunch we wander the city doing some shopping and looking about. At one point we are waiting for a tram by Rembrandt Park. There is, of course a statue of Rembrandt in the park. Facing him, about thirty yards away, is another statue. It is of an astronaut sitting in the thinker’s pose like Rodin’s famous statue. It makes for an odd juxtaposition, which must be intentional. We wind up back in Dam Square where we poke around a couple of shops and get some water to drink. We sit on the steps of a large statue which seems to be a popular place for folks to rest their feet. As we repose we see a fellow in a Bart Starr jersey walking around. Packer fans are everywhere. A female pigeon also strays close to us to get a drink from a puddle on the paving stones. A male is all puffed up and strutting around her, obviously try to woo her. She wants nothing to do with him and turns to avoid him and continue drinking. He doesn’t give up but gets brushed off again and again. We are amused at how this little scene is probably played out by humans in the bars around here all the time.

We decide to try the famous fries and mayonnaise. The shops selling fries are all over this area of the city and walking a little up the block we see House of Fries. We get a small order. They are too hot to hold so we step outside to one of their standup tables on the street and set our hot potatoes down. The fries have a large dollop of thick, tasty mayonnaise on them. You are given two small wooden skewers that look like two-pronged forks. Most of the fries have a good crispness to them and the combination is very good. We decide that the Irish chips are better than the Netherlands fries. We determine they are good enough to try again, which we won’t get a chance to do on this trip, however. We stroll east towards De Wallen looking for New Market Square. As we wander along and get close to the square we see De Bekeerde Suster, a restaurant along the canal. We want to get out of the sun and have something to drink. I try a flight of three local beers. Rhonda has a white wine. We see that they have bitterballen, which is another famous edible in Amsterdam. Bitterballen are a snack usually found in restaurants and bars. They are essentially a thick onion gravy with ground beef or sausage in it that is formed into balls, breaded and deep fried. They are served with a light brown mustard. Famous for being very hot temperature wise, when the order of six arrives we break a couple open to cool before trying them out. We both find these quite tasty. They are hearty and hot and would be great comfort food in cooler weather. Even during the hot afternoon they are very good.

We have no plans for the evening. At the moment I am hot and sweaty, and we need a brief respite before facing the rest of the day. We use our new friend, the tram, to help make our way back to the room where I strip down and take a cool shower. It is just what I need to refresh myself. As we sit and rest our feet we have some water to rehydrate and consider options. I get on my phone and look for a canal cruise. I find one that combines the boat tour with wine and cheese. I buy tickets for the 9pm tour so the sun will be well down and the lights of the city will be reflecting in the canals. After resting and rejuvenating we take the tram back to the center of town and stroll over to De Wallen, where the tour will leave from. The tour tickets provide an address, but more helpfully they say they depart from in front of the original Bulldog. That is a famous coffee house and is easy to find. Unfortunately, there are three boats tied up, so we need to ask around a bit to find the correct boat.

The boat we will take our cruise on it about twenty feet long. It is completely open. As people arrive we are seated all around the outside where a bench with cushions runs. Some people are having cheese and wine, and others are just cruising. They give those snacking and imbibing wristbands. There is a center console where the pilot house is and all of the drinks and comestibles are. The captain of the boat is Deborah. She is being helped by Angela, who we interact with quite a bit. Once everyone is on board and things are prepared we set out. Deborah and Angela will split duty talking about the sites and history of the city. While Deborah drives Angela is busy pouring wine and serving cheese. The cheese is a gouda which is cubed and served with mustard, just like what Joop provided for us yesterday. The three items blend well. We have been snacking this afternoon, so this is enough of a dinner for us.

The boat and canals are quiet, which makes hearing the ladies talking easy. As I had hoped, the night is cool on the water and the lights of the city look lovely when reflected in the canals. We learn lots of interesting tidbits and have a great time. At one point we cruise under the seven bridges, which are not far from our B&B. The seven bridges are all identical and lit with lights strung under the arches. It makes for a lovely scene as you peer down the canal and see the arches receding into the distance. About fifty minutes into the trip Angela asks if anyone would like to try genever. Genever is a distilled spirit and is the grandfather of the gin that most people know. Rhonda and I are curious and give it a try. It is very delectable and while similar to gin, is more full mouthed and less sharp. After an hour on the water we arrive back at our starting point.

We have been talking with Angela a lot during the cruise. Now we ask her where she would recommend for us to try more genever. Once everyone is ashore, she walks us a short distance to a small street. She points the way to a genever bar just up the way. We thank her for a great time and head up the street. Unfortunately, when we get there we see the bar is closed. There are still a few patrons inside and one fellow at the door given us the bad news. We explain that we had hoped to try some old genever and he tell us the name of another genever bar. He gives us some direction and then we begin to talk about traveling in general. He offers a couple of tips for the rest of the week. We make our way back to the canal and get our bearings. I pull up a map on my phone and we locate our destination. It will take us further away from our B&B and the tram, and we decide to abort that journey. Instead we settle on returning to the bar on the corner of Dam Square we were at last night. We walk that way and luckily find an outside table waiting for us. We order a young and old genever so we can compare. We like both, but find the old more to our tastes. We finish the night with a Magner’s cider and some chips. The people watching is good, but not as active as it was on Saturday.

Day 4 – September 11th (Amsterdam to Bruges)

Sleeping is once again a bit fitful. We have the bedroom window open to let in some cool air and a bug finds its way in and annoyingly buzzes our ears. We are up early and get ourselves showered and cleaned up for the day. We also get our bags packed up before Joop brings in breakfast at eight. The spread is different from yesterday, but just as copious. We want to visit the Albert Cuyp market this morning before we have to leave. It was closed on Sunday and opens this morning at nine. We will be going there to try some more Amsterdam classic foods, so we eat a very light breakfast. We make ham and cheese sandwiches with part of what Joop has brought, and pack those away for lunch on the train. We also pack the apples from the table. Once our coffee and small respite are done, we start on our way to the market. The trip is a combination of walking, the tram and some more walking. The morning is much cooler and the walking more pleasant today. When we get to the street where the market is located we can see some of the stalls are open, while others are still working on getting setup.

The market is very large and is several blocks long with a wide variety of goods to offer. There are food stalls, clothing, hard goods, books and music, and really anything that you’d want to find when you’re shopping at the mall. Things here are just out in the street. The first thing that we come across that we’re interested in trying is a herring stall. Herring is one of the favorite foods of the Dutch and they have it not smoked or pickled as you would think. The small filets are put in a lightly salted brine for a couple of days. While not technically raw, it is relatively close. We the menu item where the herring is served cut into bite-sized pieces and served with chopped onions and pickles. It is served in a small cardboard tray and a couple of long toothpicks with the Netherlands’ flag on them are provided to eat it with. Once we have it in hand we sit at the picnic table nearby and try it out. Rhonda eats one side of the fish and I the other, which amounts to about five bites each. It is better than we expected. The fish tastes fresh and is firm. It’s very tasty with pickles and onion added in. After the herring we buy some novelty sox at a stand herby as souvenirs for some of Rhonda’s coworkers.

Next up are poffertji. They are a small fried dough treats that come in the little cardboard tray with 8, 10 or 12 pieces. They are cooked in a large iron tray that has lots of round, inch and half depressions in it. The cooking device is kept over the heat so it is ready to go when an order is placed. We request an eight piece serving with just powdered sugar and the fellow pours a small dollop of dough into eight depressions. We chat as the dough cooks on one side and watch him flip each over with a couple of skewers. When they are fully cooked he stabs them in sequence to gather four on a skewer. He then slides them off the skewer and into our tray, after which they are dusted with powdered sugar. You can get them with fruit, chocolate, honey and other toppings but we want a taste the treat as close to plain as we can. They remind us something in between a cake doughnut and a funnel cake. Being fried they are hot and fluffy but not as greasy or sweet as a funnel cake because they are not cooked submersed in oil. There are quite pleasant snack and I could see where they could become addictive as they are easy to pop in the mouth and enjoy.

The last item on the list is a stroopwafel. The stall with the best reputation that we are looking for is closed today. Walking along we find another some ways down that is making fresh stroopwafels. We approach the stall and see several stroopwafels laid out on the table. Rhonda tells the lady that we want one and the proprietor says that she’ll make it up fresh. She puts a round of dough in the middle of a waffle iron that’s about 7 inches in diameter and presses it down. The waffle is very flat and maybe no more than ¼ inch thick. When the waffle is cooked she takes it out and transfers it to a cutting board. Then spreading one hand out over the waffle she takes a long knife and splits the whole thing despite it being so thin. She opens it up and slathers some syrup that looks like caramel inside and puts it back together. Thus, you have a sort of thin caramel waffle sandwich. While pleasant we find this too sweet. The waffle by itself is nice and the syrup is OK, but there’s just too much of it. The stroopwafel is sizable compared to other treats and we don’t finish it having had enough sugar after eating about two thirds of it.

Time is wearing away and we have to return to the B&B to collect our bags with enough time to make it to the station. We retrace our route from earlier and make it back to B&B Blossom in plenty of time. We gather up our things and want to say goodbye to Joop, but he doesn’t seem to be around. However, as we get down the steps and onto the street he pops out the front door. We thank him for a wonderful stay and his hospitality. After hearty handshakes are exchanged we are off and on our way back to central station. We are travelling by intercity rail today. This is different than the Thalys train that we brought up from Paris. For that train you reserve specific seats and coaches and the runs have fewer stops on your ride. Intercity rail is more open and you buy a first or second class ticket from zone to zone or destination to destination. There is no reserved seating. You can ride different combinations of trains to get from place to place. Unfortunately, today we have three different trains to take as there isn’t a direct way from Amsterdam to Bruges. The first train will be a couple of hours ride down to Antwerp, then about an hour over to Ghent, and then one last short one from Ghent to Bruges. The only concern about the trip today is the short transfer time we have in Ghent.

We arrive at central station and find that our first train is leaving from platform 15A. We make our way to that platform but there is some confusion. The platform is very long and where 15A stops and 15B starts isn’t very clear. Other folks on the platform seem to be as unsure as we are. When the train finally pulls into the station we find we are all on the wrong half of the platform and have to walk a little ways to get to our train. More confusion reigns as first class and second class cars are not well marked on this particular train. We have a first class ticket but as the departure time is imminent we just board the nearest car. I help a couple with a child get their stuff on board too. They and some others are also somewhat confused about which car is which on this train. Regardless, we find a place to stash our bags and grab a seat. We watched the Dutch countryside roll by. There are windmills of both kinds, those that pump water and those that generate electricity, all over the landscape. The train makes a few stops on its way southwest. Partway through the trip a conductor comes down checking tickets of all the passengers. I have our tickets with the bar codes handy since we needed those to get into the station. The ride is pleasant and smooth.

We pull into the Antwerp station on time. We have 20 minutes before our next train leaves. There are railroad personnel on the platform as people exit the train. They are helping direct folks to their next train. We tell them we are looking for the 713 to Ghent and they tell us that we’re on platform 2 all the way at the top. We then discover something interesting about the Antwerp station. All the train stations I’ve ever been in are all on a single level and spread out. This station is stacked to four levels. We are on level -2, the lowest level where there are several platforms. As we ride the escalators up we see more and more trains on level -1 stacked above where we came in. We continue up and one escalator we take goes up one flight continues level for a period of time and then goes up another flight. It is the express escalator to get you up higher faster. Level 0 is the ground floor and contains all of the ticketing and retail operations. Yes, in Europe they start counting floors at zero, and sub-floors are negative numbers instead of B and BB. The architecture of the station at this level is breathtaking. While we don’t have a lot of time I still pause to take a couple of pictures. We have to ascend to level +1 to get to our platform. We arrive with plenty of time to get our bags on board and find some seats. This train has a large “1” or “2” painted on the side so you know which cars are which. The real difference is between the two classes is really just how much space each seat has.

The ride to Ghent is almost exactly an hour. We enjoy the sandwiches that we made this morning from some the breakfast provisions provided by Joop. The apples have a sticker on them that says “Elstar” and “zoetzuer”. I figure Elstar is the name of the variety, but I don’t know what zoetzuer means. I looked up the word in my translator app and find that it Dutch for sweet/sour. They are very tasty and crisp. The countryside in Belgium looks much like Iowa with a different architecture. Lots of corn and cows. The Ghent train station is not large, but we only have 9 minutes to make the transfer. I do some searching online and find a website that tells me what platform our train will be on in Ghent. This is helpful so we don’t have to stop and search the boards in the station. We arrive on time and are ready in the vestibule with our bags so we can exit as soon as the doors open. We’re down the escalator, through the concourse and back up the escalator to our departure platform in time get aboard before the train pulls out. I know in the back of my mind that another train is repeating this trip in an hour. Thus, if we had missed this connection for some reason we would just get to spend a little time in Ghent before catching the next train to take us to Bruges. The advantage of making this particular train is that we will have a little bit more time this evening in Bruges.

The sky outside starts to glower and is threatening rain as we arrive in Bruges. It’s not much more than a mile from the train station to the Market Square in the center of town where we are staying. However, we don’t want to drag our bags that far, and with the threat of rain in the sky a taxi makes for a better option. There seems to be quite a procession of travelers to the taxi stand. There are a handful of couples in front of us and many more behind. What is missing are the taxis. One arrives and takes the lead couple away and we begin to wonder when the next one will come around. One does arrive after a little while and all of us in line are watching the sky and discussing the fact that it’s probably the same taxi that’s circling between the station and downtown. I begin to look to see which bus we could take as there are lots of them passing by the train station. I have a hard time finding information on my phone about the correct bus which we would need to take to the center of town. Before long we are at the front of the line and just wait for the next taxi to come along. It does and we are soon on our way to Market Square.

A light rain begins to fall as we get near the center of town. The Market Square is big and open with a central courtyard dominated by a statue of Flemish heroes in the middle. There is also a line of horse drawn carriages in the courtyard. Several roads converge and run around the outside between the central courtyard and a wide walkway that fronts all of the buildings. There is little to no traffic on the roads, however, so the large square remains mostly a pedestrian affair. Two sides of the square are completely dominated by restaurants with their tables and umbrellas jutting into the square. The third side is occupied by the Provincial Court and the fourth by the belfry. I have the address of the bed and breakfast and it is simply 17 Markt. We arrive in the square and the taxi wants to get us as close as he can to where we are headed because of the rain. We work our way up a little bit towards the side street but that is too far. We tell him to drop us where we are, as there is a covered archway we can take shelter in while we get our bearings. We duck out of the rain, break out our umbrellas and begin the business of trying to find 17. There are restaurants all around us and we don’t see anything that’s labeled as a bed and breakfast. Rhonda asks someone what the number of the nearby restaurant is and they say 20. We walk along the row looking for our destination but don’t find it. When we get to the far side we see the numbers were going up. As I walk back along the row of restaurants and look ahead to the other cluster of restaurants I finally see the name, Huyze Die Maene, on an awning at the foot of the building near where we got out of the taxi. This B&B is housed in same building as a restaurant much like where we stayed in Innsbruck. With our destination finally spotted we cross back over the square make our way past the tables of diners and in the front door of the restaurant. A gentleman by the bar who sees our bags ask us if we are the Malakes. We respond in the affirmative and take care of the business of getting checked in. He shows us the side door to get in if the restaurant is closed and the door that we can use to get to the stairs and the elevator. Given that we are up on the 4th floor we take advantage of the elevator. It is the small European variety that you sometimes see squeezed into old buildings with little space. We have to ride separately up to the top. Once there we make our way inside the room and get a surprise.

We find that our room is the entire floor. It looks very much like it used to be an apartment once upon a time. There are two bedrooms in the back. The bath is in the middle and then there are kitchen and living areas in the front, which is completely lined with very old windows overlooking the square. The master bed is in the living area on the right-hand side with an armoire nearby. There is a little sitting area to the left with some chairs and a table and the kitchenette behind that. The view out the windows is quite impressive over the square and we are reminded again of Innsbruck and the old hotel and restaurant combination we stayed at there. There too we arrived at the establishment a little disheveled but when we entered the room and looked out over the medieval square everything changed. The belfry has a carillon which plays on the hour. It is playing now before it chimes the hour. We open the windows and enjoy the scene and the sound of the bells. Bruges is a medieval town dating back to when the Flemish people were one of the major powers in Europe. The belfry dates back to 1240, with the highest part of the tower added in 1487. The building we are sleeping in dates back to 1302. As you scan the panorama, the closely nestled medieval and renaissance buildings with their iconic stepped gables are lovely. The Provincial Court straight across the square is the newest building. It was rebuilt in a gothic revival style in the late 1800s after a devastating fire. Everything works together to provide a central square most towns would be jealous of.

We get ourselves settled and a few things laid out to dry like our umbrellas and raincoats. Before we get to the business of seeking out dinner, we have to find a pharmacy. I’ve been on a course of antibiotics for about 8 days and yesterday I noticed some small pink dots on my ankles as if a rash was developing. Now I find that this rash has spread up my legs to my thighs and it’s starting to cover my belly. Rhonda puts on her nursing hat and begins to look things up on her phone. Based on what I am taking I am probably allergic to sulfa. I called the doctor’s office which prescribed the antibiotics and we, of course, settle on stopping the medication. We need to find some Benadryl to combat the rash. Thankfully it’s not itchy. When we head down to the street the rain has abated. We go into to a likely place that is close at hand, but it turns out to be more geared towards cosmetics and personal care. They direct us up the way to a proper pharmacy. When we arrive there we see a couple of ladies behind an old counter backed by antique shelves and jars. We voice our appreciation of the display of antique pharmacy and recount some of what we had seen in the New Orleans pharmacy museum earlier this year. We ask about Benadryl and they say that in Europe it is used as a sleeping aid and comes in a larger dose than what we’re looking. However, it’s produced in such a fashion that the pills are easily broken half to get what we normally take in the US. We thank them and with pills in hand head out to find dinner. As we walk back to the Market Square we pass a girl walking along with a large rabbit wearing a leash in her arms. We find that a bit unusual. The restaurant on the square we were targeting is closed. Stepping next door to the Le Panier D’Or we look at the menu and find some good Flemish dishes there which we are curious about. Thus, we grab one of the outside tables that’s close to the front with a good view of the square and have a seat.

The waiter that introduces himself is friendly and engaging. Being that we’re in Belgium I decided to have a beer which he helps me select. Rhonda is getting warmed up for France and has a glass of rosé wine. Looking over the menu I settle on Flemish beef stew and Rhonda a traditional Flemish chicken dish. It is a puff pastry with chicken and onions in creamy gravy. When the plates arrive there are three bowls on each, a large one with the main course, a small one that has a little salad and a medium one that has fries in it. The food is very good and quite comforting on a wet and somewhat dreary day. After we’ve finished our meals we decide on having a genever. It is very good and we look up a store we can walk to which sells liquors so we can get some of our own to take home. The waiter offers a dessert drink that he says we can’t get in the States and I acquiesce. After both Rhonda and I taste it we decide it is nothing more than 43, which is something we can get in the US. When we mention this to him he says he gets told by a lot of folks that they can’t find it. Seems like the waiter is a little bit of a used car salesman trying to continue our service and not let us go. We do get up and go a little bit before eight o’clock. We crossed in the middle of the square by the statue to listen to the carillon which will perform on the hour. It does indeed start with the piece of music that I recognize but cannot place in the moment. I will later identify it as the Largo movement from Vivaldi’s Chamber Concerto in D. To our surprise the carillon moves from one piece to another instead of chiming the hour. Perhaps it’s running through its repertoire to close out the night, but that is just a guess. We start off on our journey as a little light rain begins to fall again. It is good to stretch our legs and the walk takes us by some nice architecture. We find the store, but it is more of a convenience store that happens to sell some wine and booze. They have no genever. We stroll back to the square to find that the carillon is still going at quarter to the hour. We have actually heard it all the time were walking. The song playing now is I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor, which is rather odd to hear played by a 47 bell carillon. We retire to our room. The carillon continues to serenade us from our windows but wraps up things shortly after nine. We are in bed not long after that.

Day 5 – September 12th (Bruges to Paris)

We wake to a foggy morning. The ring of streetlights in the square gives off an ethereal aura. We get ourselves together and pack up our bags so we are ready to go when we return from our morning sightseeing. Rhonda located a place for breakfast last evening which we head out to when ready. The sun is up but the fog is still present as we walk little ways to Just Toast. It is a hip little place west of the square with good food. The tea we order comes in little self-brewing pots with a glass that has a small waffle next to it. As the name implies their dishes are served on ample sized pieces of hearty toast. I get one with avocado, asparagus and a poached egg. Rhonda has one with eggs and a mushroom gravy that comes with a little salad. Fortified for in the morning we walk towards the Church of Our Lady. The church opens at nine, which is when we want to be there. I really do like walking in medieval towns. The streets are quaint and the things you run across that are commonplace here would be unusual for us in the new world. For instance, we walk by one house that has the year 1669 displayed on it. We find the church without too much trouble and pay a modest fee at the door to enter and view the wonders therein.

The reason we’ve come to this church is for Michelangelo’s Madonna of Bruges. We stroll around the perimeter taking in the art and opulence. The churches really did have all of the money and power for centuries. In the center, towards one end behind the alter we see two tombs with statues laying in repose on either. One is a lady with dogs at her feet and the other a man in armor with a lion. Is rather obvious what the lion indicates but we find the dogs a rather curious addition. Below our feet is a small burial area. The church has set up mirrors that allow you to see the frescos on the tombs under the floor. Stepping out and around the corner we arrive at what we’ve come to see. The Madonna and Child was sculpted by Michelangelo not long after he did his famous Pieta. The two share many characteristics. The women’s faces are of similar form and emotion and also the way that the robes are executed is similar. It’s quite an amazing work but kept a little distance from the viewer. We also noticed that there is a thick pane of bulletproof glass mounted in front protecting it from any would be a vandal. It’s unfortunate that such measures are necessary, but I appreciate the church’s desire to preserve the relic that has been stolen a couple of times in history. There is a remarkable lectern in the church that would make anyone listening to someone speaking from it take pause. It’s quite over the top and gets the message across that whoever is talking from here has the power, if not the knowledge. After taking in the church we decide to stroll back towards the Market Square.

We want to pick up some Belgian chocolates before leaving town and I have looked up some well rated places while on the train. We are seeking one when we pass by a store with a lot of beer on display in the windows. We step in to see if they have any liquors. They actually have a couple of different genevers and we purchased an old one that comes in a rather heavy ceramic bottle. As we come out of the shop we see Chocolatier Dumon which is one of the top shops on the list. We stop in and spend too much money on chocolates for friends, family and ourselves. Adding to the list of indulgences we swing by a waffle shop just off Market Square. I order up a single waffle with dark chocolate. After tasting waffle I regret putting the chocolate on it as I think it would be better plain. I’m not overly impressed and I hope this is not a good example of Belgian waffles. We get back to our room and gather our bags and stuff our chocolates and genever in them. We chatted with the fellows running the hotel and restaurant yesterday evening and they told us about a free bus that runs between the Market Square and the train station. Armed with that information we cross to the bus stop and are there in time to board. As the bus takes its circuitous route to the station we see some things like parts of the old city wall and other canals that make us wish we had planned more time here in Bruges. You only have so much time and choices have to be made. It is definitely a city on the list of those to revisit at some point in the future.

We are back at the station in plenty of time for our 11:58 train to Brussels. Waiting on the platform is pleasant enough since the trains are all electric so there’s no diesel smell in the air and things are much quieter without noisy combustion motors. While waiting on the platform I see a girl go by with a bottle of Heinz ketchup in a mesh pocket on the side of her backpack. I guess she is not a mayonnaise girl and wants her ketchup at the ready in case of a fry emergency. We were soon on the train and making our way through the Belgian countryside again. The ride down to Brussels takes about an hour. In Brussels we switch from intercity rail to Thalys for the last leg into Paris. It is another hour and twenty before we are back in Paris at Gare du Nord. The weather is more tolerable now than when we were here a few days ago, but still warm. I have pre-arranged a car to take us from the train station to our hotel for the next four nights. This is more affordable than picking up taxi on the street. While we’re in the station I give the driver a call to see where we should meet him. He tells us he will be out front but is running late due to traffic. We head out onto the sidewalk to enjoy the outer air and take in the hustle and bustle of Paris. A sidewalk sweeper which looks like a small street sweeper comes along and almost takes Rhonda off her feet. The police out front of the station get into some altercation with a traveler who is not happy about something. Eventually my phone rings and the driver says he is across the street in front the café. We make our way over and are soon on our way to the Latin quarter.

Traffic in any city can be bad and we happen to hit heavy time trying to get across the Seine. Our driver does good job and gets us there safely. During our conversation with him we discover we are his last run of the day so he can just make his way home from this point. We are staying at the Hotel Odeon Saint Germain. The Latin Quarter spans the 5th and 6th arrondissements of Paris. The arrondissements are regions of the city numbered in a clockwise spiral starting at the Louvre. The Latin Quarter is named that because it is the area where all the universities were and a lot of Latin was spoken. It is a region of the city that was not rebuilt after the Franco Prussian war. Thus, it doesn’t have the late 1800s look everyone thinks of when considering Paris. The streets and neighborhoods are more close and erratic. It also has an older character which has its own appeal. This hotel was well recommended, is in the neighborhood we want to stay and close to a Metro station. Entering in we see it is well kept and rather posh. A large desk sits near the front door and will always be occupied as we come and go over the next few days. It is there we check in and get our room key. Our room is bigger than our last room in Paris and quite comfy. It will be a nice place to have as a center of operations while in the city. After getting unpacked for the next four days we relax with some wine in the chairs by the windows. The rash has gotten worse so we are going to seek out some cortisone and see if that has a better effect than the Benadryl. At least it is still not itchy.

We get prepared to do some walking and immerse ourselves in the culture. From our window we can see a pharmacy down at the corner. We walk that way and get some help from a friendly pharmacist inside who has a cortisone cream that I can use to try to battle this rash. With that in hand, or bag as the case may be, we continue northward toward the river. Our hotel is a couple of blocks south of Boulevard Saint Odeon, which is a major thoroughfare parallel to the river at this point. Between that and the Seine is a small street called Rue de Buci. In my research before the trip this lane was noted as a nice place to walk in the Latin Quarter. It is a pleasant stroll on a cooler evening and we’re scouting for a place to camp out and have dinner. The lane has a lot of locals that are gathering provisions and doing some shopping on the way home. Partway up we see a bistro named Atlas on the corner with a table free along the curb. We take a seat under the big awning and order up a bottle of rosé de Provence. Our first meal in Paris must be a cheese and meat board. As expected, the price is very reasonable and the board is very full. There are six different cheese and four meats. The requisite baguette joins the party to make a lovely spread. We take our time nibbling through the delicious meal while we watch the Parisians and tourists stroll by. There is a boulangerie across the street and there seems to be an almost constant flow of people on their way home popping in to grab a baguette for the evening’s meal. We always enjoy spending leisurely time in the social center of whatever country we are visiting. In the British Isles it is the pub where food, drinks and music are shared. In Italy it is outdoor restaurants in the piazza. In France it is bistros and brasseries that spill out into the streets where everyone is walking by and sharing the neighborhoods.

With our meal complete and the wine all gone we ask for the check. Checks are not automatically brought to you in France. When you sit at a table it is yours as long as you like. No attempt is made to rush you out. Payment is always made at the table. We have a destination in mind and turn our steps towards the Church of Saint Etienne-du-Mont. It is about a twenty minute walk eastward through the Latin Quarter. We very much like the movie Midnight in Paris. It is one of those that we can watch over and over and still enjoy each time. The location to which we’re walking is the street on which the protagonist of the movie, Gil, gets picked up by the old Peugeot and transported back in time. The walk through the quarter is pleasant and our path takes us through the campus of the Sorbonne, one of the universities still here in the Latin Quarter. We recognize the street and the steps next to the church as soon as we see it. The sky is breaking up and the sunset is turning out to be quite a beauty. The steps where the scene was filmed are on the backside of the church by a curved lane. Just around the corner and up the hill a bit is the Pantheon. As the sky changes colors I keep stepping around the corner to take pictures of the Pantheon and the interesting building next to it in the differing moods of the sunset. It is a nice evening to be out.

Once the sunset has faded we walk towards the Seine and Notre Dame. When we reach the river we see the old cathedral surrounded by scaffolding. The scaffolding is lit from inside, making whole affair look like a strange Lego structure with ancient bell towers out front of it. They are working on rebuilding the roof and repairing the damage from the fire. They are taking their time as they are emulating the construction methods and materials as close as they can to the originals. We continue our night stroll in Paris walking along the Seine for a bit before reaching Shakespeare and Company and veering onto Rue de la Huchette. This passes through a little neighborhood which is very touristy. Instead of the shops and restaurants frequented by locals like on Rue de Buci this one is geared towards tourists since it is nearby Notre Dame, the fountain of Saint Michael, and Saint Chapelle. The people watching is decent though and we stop over at a Bistro for little wine to finish the night. Things settle down as it gets later and then we walk back towards our hotel and to our bed for the night.

Day 6 – September 13th (Cluny and the Catacombs)

We rest well and wake ready for the day. We normally travel Europe in bed and breakfasts. In Paris, breakfast is typically coffee and a pastry or two. The cafés and bistros are everywhere, so we opt to just stay in a hotel and seek our breakfast out on the street, with the rest of Paris. Half a block from our hotel is the confluence of three small roads that creates a small open square. There are four café s located on this square. Another half block up on the Boulevard Saint Odeon are another three cafés. We walk up to that corner to a café named Danton. It sits on the corner of the road that runs back towards our hotel and a small road that runs to the Sorbonne. Thus, it sits back from the busy road of Saint Odeon a bit. Directly across the way is a long island between the roads where the Metro stop is and a statue commemorating Georges Jacques Danton, a leader of the early stages of the revolutions and the namesake of the restaurant. We sit inside in the front corner with a nice view of the tree filled intersection. I have the petit dejeuner, which literally translates to breakfast, or small lunch. It consists of coffee, a croissant and part of a baguette. I take the option that adds a little orange juice. Rhonda has the same without the juice. The butter and jam on the bread is very nice and the croissant is buttery and flaky. It’s a nice little breakfast before we get started on our day.

This morning we are starting with the Cluny Museum, also known as the National Museum of the Middle Ages. It is in the ranks of the top museums in Paris. I am most interested in all of the tapestries, in particular the Lady and the Unicorn series. The Cluny is a short ten minute walk away on the other side of the Sorbonne. It is a nice morning for walking and we find ourselves on the block on which it is located in fairly short order. I know nothing much about the Cluny other than what I’ve already mentioned so we are a bit surprised when we approached and see a bunch of Roman ruins. Apparently, the museum occupies the space that once housed Roman baths. As we will learn, the ruins we are looking at are just the frigidarium, the cold room, which is all that is left. In the 15th century the Abbot of Cluny built a residence here, incorporating the walls of the Gallo-Roman baths. It became a hotel for members of a monastic order when they would come to study at the local college. The building persisted through the centuries and as a hotel. In the early 1800s a fellow with a large personal collection of items from the Middles Ages, Alexander Sommerard, died and the state acquired the Hotel de Cluny. It became a national museum of antiquities managed by his son, which protected the ruins and the buildings. The building has had its renovations through time but has been a museum since about 1845.

We arrive as the museum is opening and thus there are not a lot of people in the lobby. We buy a couple of Paris museum passes instead of just normal admission. These will allow us to pop into any of the multitude of museums in Paris while skipping the line and the entry fee. We enter and begin to browse galleries that contain a lot of old architectural and sculptural items from antiquity through the 13th century. Some were recovered from Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle during renovations on both of those buildings. In one gallery is a collection of capitals from the tops of columns which have very detailed carving. It is surprising they took such lengths to carve such small details and scenes into something that would be high up in the air and not easily viewed. There are some interesting items including couple of sets of dogs that would have been on an effigy much like we saw yesterday in the Church of Our Lady in Bruges. We come to the end of this series of galleries and find we have to backtrack through them and climb some steps to get to the level that showcases items from the late Middle Ages, being the 14th and 15th centuries. The first large gallery on this level has an immense collection of furniture from medieval churches. There are pews, intricately carved altars, and several smaller items that would have been used in services. The walls are covered in small tapestries that would have adorned the churches and told Bible stories to the parishioners. Again, you can see where the church had all the money. The carving in the large altarpieces is quite intricate and really draws the eye in. Moving on we turn the corner and come to a large gallery with very dim lighting. We have found the Lady and the Unicorn.

The Lady and the Unicorn is a series of six tapestries from about 1500. Each one of the first five depict one of the five senses. The subject of the sixth in the series, and largest, is still somewhat debated. A banner on the lady’s pavilion reads “A mon seul desir”, or “To my only desire”. The nature of the desire is what is debated. The tapestries are much larger than I had expected. I was thinking something much more modest like what we saw in the previous gallery that would be maybe five feet by ten feet. The smallest of these is nine and a half by twelve. The largest is twelve feet by fifteen feet. There’s a soft light illuminating each as they gently lay back at a slight angle so as to not hang and pull the fabric. I’m glad the gallery is sparsely inhabited as there are only two other people and the docent here when we arrive. The amount of work that went into these pieces of art is staggering. They are in the mille fleur (thousand flowers) style, which means all of the space between the main subjects is filled with flowers. Each is a riot of swirling colors set on red fabric. I have a small replica of one of these, Smell, that is only a couple feet by a couple of feet. Seeing all of the detail and glorious color here it’s quite stunning. Rhonda and I spend a lot of time standing in front of each soaking them in and then getting up close and seeing all of the detail work that went into the flowers and other embellishments. We are amused by some of the expressions, intentional or not, that are found on the unicorns, lions and monkeys. This room alone was worth coming to the Cluny.

Wandering along we find more wonderful works spread in the further galleries. In one area they have various items and art devoted to gaming which I find very interesting. There are doll house toys next to your classic chess and other game boards. In one long room is a large and lengthy tapestry depicting the harvest of grapes and making of wine. The scene moves from right to left as the people who are quite happy looking are out in the vines gathering the grapes. One man doesn’t look happy though, as he glowers at a horse that is busy eating grapes instead of hauling them. As you move to the left you see the grapes being pressed and stomped and the juice being collected. Being oenophiles we very much appreciate this tapestry. The fact that someone would devote the time and money to immortalizing the labor of making wine is not lost on us. Also, the fact that it has survived the centuries in between is remarkable as well. There is a collection of three tapestries in a further room which deal with the subject of hunting. Again, we have to chuckle at the expression on the faces of the horses and dogs that are involved in the hunts. One dog looks particularly perturbed with his owner. It makes me wonder if the artist had intended such an expression or if it was accidental and they didn’t want to go back and rework things.

We’ve done pretty well staying ahead of the big crowd. We saw what must be a tour group coming to the Lady and the Unicorn gallery as we were leaving it. We’ve stayed a bit ahead of them, but they overtake us as we are spending more time with the art and artifacts than they are. We do realize however we’ve been here over a couple hours and there are more things to see and do today. Thus, we make our way back towards the entrance. We pass through the gift shop and look over some replica tapestries that they have there. We have three tapestries in our house already but are considering another. Perhaps another in the Lady and the Unicorn series to go with the one we already have? Then we find, hiding behind others, one that is a portion of the grape harvest. We have a winner. We chat with the fellow behind the counter who has a very dashing mustache that makes an impression. He tells us the gift shop stays open a tad later than the museum and can be accessed from the street without buying admission. Thus, we will make a stop back here some evening to pick up the new tapestry and not have to carry it around today. For the moment we decide it’s time to crossover to the Île de la Cité and revisit one of our favorites from our previous journey to Paris, Sainte Chapelle.

Today is fair out and a little bit overcast. While still warm, it is much more pleasant than the heat wave that we lived through in the Netherlands. We make our way towards the Seine and once again see Notre Dame sheathed in scaffolding. We make our way over to the island and the Palace of Justice. Behind these walls stands Sainte Chapelle. It is nice that it is surrounded by a ring of protective buildings as the key feature of the royal chapel is the stained glass windows. They’re still 70% original and it would be a shame if more were damaged and had to be replaced. The museum pass has us skipping up to the front of the line and soon going through security and into the central courtyard where the royal chapel sits. We make our way in and up to the sanctuary. The gothic church is long and narrow. Three sides are nothing but stained glass windows rising 40 feet up. The glass is predominantly blue and gives off a wonderful royal light. This is another show of money as blue was one of the most difficult colors to produce back in the 13th century when most of the stained glass was produced. Rhonda spends time out by the main entrance where she enjoys the reliefs carved into the archway over the doors. They depict judgment day and Jesus sorting the good from the wicked. Once again, some of the details are quite amusing, at least to the modern eye.

The time has come to move along as we do have a timed event this afternoon. I plug the catacombs into the RATP application on my phone and it lets us know the best way to get down to the entrance, which a couple of miles away or more. We have a little trouble finding the Metro station here on the island until some police officers lend a hand. We want to get down to where we are going so we can relax and have a little lunch. Coming out of the Metro station near our destination we have a couple of blocks to walk before we come to the square where a small, unassuming building sits that is the entrance to the catacombs. We see a bistro across the street that has a couple of open tables outside. We crossover and have a seat at Café du Rendez-Vous. We order up water and some rosé de Provence while we peruse the menu. I settle on the croque of the day. A croque is a grilled sandwich or one that is a large piece of bread with the ingredients and cheese piled on top and then broiled. This restaurant serves the later variety. Europeans don’t typically eat with their hands, so it is a fork and knife affair. Mine has spinach and ham with honey ghost cheese. Rhonda opts for the vegetarian croque with a bunch of cheese with some veggies and pesto. Each plate comes a little bit of salad and French fries. Once we finish our lunch, or as much as we can eat, we take our time sipping our wine and watching the world go by. As we get close to our two o’clock ticket time we pay the check, avail ourselves of the restaurant’s toilet, and then cross the street for a new and unique experience.

I’m glad I purchased tickets ahead of time from home. I see as we approach the building that the rest of the tickets for the day are sold out. We pass in quickly and pick up our audio guides. They are a device like a large phone that we hang around our neck. When you get to a number along the path you hit that number on the device and hold it up to your ear. It will tell you about what it is that you’re looking at and will be quite handy during our journey underground. There are no elevators at the catacombs, as they warn you. The trip sixty feet underground, below the Metro and utilities, is accomplished by a 131 step spiral staircase. Once you get to the bottom you walk along a path for a goodly distance before you start to get close to the ossuaries. Along the walk the audio guide fills you in on the origins of the catacombs. These tunnels and caves were quarries for the limestone that built the city of Paris back in the Middle Ages. In the early 1700s they began to have some sink holes on the surface created by collapses in the quarries. King Louis directed works to stabilize the tunnels and quarries. Another problem arose in the late 1700s. The city’s cemeteries were overflowing and beginning to create centers of disease and health issues in the city. It was determined that the cemeteries would be emptied and the dead moved underground into the old limestone quarries. These operations would happen at night and a priest would accompany the wagons hauling the skeletal remains of the dead to be place below ground and reconsecrated. There are over 6 million people’s remains in these tunnels. We will only be visiting a small portion of what is down here on our kilometer and a half walk underground.

The catacombs became a sort of tourist destination during the Victorian era. In places you can still see a black line that was painted on the ceiling showing the path that should be taken so you don’t get lost. In one large chamber you see a message carved in the lintel, “Arrete! C’est ici l’empire de la mort.”, translated as “Stop! This is the empire of the dead.” The tunnels along here are lined on both sides with uncountable numbers of bones. After the original creation of the ossuaries and while they continued to be expanded, Hericart de Thury undertook a decorative rearrangement of the remains in the early 1800s. This was to prepare it for scheduled public viewings. Tibia and femurs are piled one on another to create a wall in which many skulls are set. Sometimes the skulls are used to form crosses, but often they just lie in rows imbedded in the wall or lining it’s top. Behind this somewhat stable wall all of the remaining bones of the body are chucked in a huge pile. Thus, as you walk along you see walls bone holding back an even greater pile of remains all topped with skulls like a railing. You frequently come across stone signs stating what cemetery the remains in that particular area came from and what year they were placed here in these ossuaries. The path seems to go on and on and occasionally you catch sight of a branching tunnel. They are blocked off by locked gates and fade off into darkness away from the lights of the tunnel we’re in. You wonder how much more is back there where you can’t see. There is one place where the remains of revolutionaries were placed as the military was trying to clean the streets after a failed revolution before the big one. Interesting that they placed some people down here directly. The remains are all unidentified. Many a famous person is resting down here mingled with the unknown commoner. I could have gazed at the skull of Pascal sitting next to the skull of a simple farmer or beggar. There is so much that you quickly become desensitized to what you are actually looking at. Here lie the bones of people that had a life and in some small way contributed to the rise of Paris and France itself. Now they are resting underground, observed only by the curious, and unknown to time.

We arrive at the end of the path and the 112 steps that take us back up to street level. It is good to be back out in the partial sun after more than an hour underground. We walk back north towards the entrance and the Metro station we will want next. At one point as we walk there is a small group of pedestrians waiting to cross the street, including a mother with two children holding her hands. She seems to be explaining that they need to wait for the light to cross. Unfortunately, with the absence of traffic, a few of the group start to cross against the light. In moments we are all crossing and I am sure the mom is left to explain the situation. Along the way we decide to stop at Café Indiana for some water and a carafe of wine. The wine is a rosé, which seems to be all we are drinking on this trip. The café’s logo looks like the Native American emblem from the Indian motorcycle. It is sort of odd to see here. We notice there are a lot more bicycles cruising around Paris than we remember from before. We also note that the passersby tend to be darker of hair than the very fair-haired people up north. I realize that is a stereotype, but it seems to hold up here. The weather is cooler and there are definitely not as many bare midriffs as we saw in Amsterdam.

We are going to return to another favorite spot, which is way up north of the river and to the west a bit, Place de Dublin. It is an intersection of several roads made famous in Gustave Caillebotte’s painting Paris Street; Rainy Day. The intersection is close to Gare Saint-Lazare, another major train station in Paris. Paris is a big city, and any big city has its less reputable characters, like pick pockets. We are always cautious, and we typically keep nothing but our phones in our front pocket and nothing in our back pockets. When in a station or on the Metro I typically swing the shoulder bag I carry around front. It has zippers that lock down, but it is always best to be cautious. Our only run in with a potential problem happens in the Montparnasse Metro station. A woman approaches me and asks if I speak English. She asks a question about getting to the Eiffel Tower and explains she has a ticket for the 6 train. This is an obvious ruse. I tell her she has to go back the other way. All the while we converse Rhonda is watching her two male companions and making eye contact with them to let them know she is aware of them as they scope out my bag. Our train arrives and we hop on as they look for more unwary targets. We have been forewarned that most activity happens on the platforms, as the thieves have someplace to go after they lift an article. On the trains they have no exit until the next station. This will be the only incident we have during our time in Paris, and it doesn’t amount to much other than a story.

We arrive at Gare Saint-Lazare. We ascend from the subway level to the train level. The interior of the station was the subject of a few paintings by Monet. It seems many of the artists of the late 1800s worked in this area. It is not too far from Montmartre, so that makes some sense. We walk along the length of the concourse trying to find a good view of the peaked glass roof sheltering the platforms that he painted. Without a ticket to pass through the turnstiles and onto the platform, we can’t get one. Thus, we move along and head a little north of the station to Place de Dublin. Five different roads meet at the rather large intersection. In the painting it is completely open, but now days there are big trees growing and curbed islands placed by the city to manage the traffic. The buildings are all the same as in the painting, however. I am happy to see that the building just left of center of the painting still has a pharmacy on the ground floor, as it did in the painting. A bistro sits on the corner where the central couple in the painting is walking. We decide to sit and have a bite at Un Bistro en Ville. There is a collection of small, round tables out front. They are glass topped and we see that the restaurant has written the names and times on the glass designating a reservation. There is an open table to the left with a great view of the scene. We sit and call up a carafe of rosé de Provence. We ask the waitress about the menu and she brings over the large chalk board with the day’s fare on it and leans it up against the rail. When she comes back we ask if they have a cheese and charcuterie board, which she says they do. With that settled, we sit and enjoy the late afternoon. Meals are a leisurely affair in Europe, and we take our time.

As we nibble and sip the tables begin to fill up with the folks getting off of work and meeting their friends. The atmosphere is lively and the extra chair at our table is given to a large group of twenty-somethings nearby. Rhonda wonders if any of the people around us even know the significance of where they are. Living in the Chicago area for so long we are very aware of the masterwork of Mr. Caillebotte. Here in Paris, which is loaded with famous artworks, one that has spent most of its existence in Chicago is probably not well known to them. As we wrap things up, Rhonda pulls up a picture of the painting on her phone. She approaches the nearby group and asks if they know where they are. The question seems nonsensical to them. Then she shows them the picture and lets them know they are sitting in a famous painting. They are surprised and pleased to learn this tidbit of knowledge. As we walk back down Rue de Moscou, she repeats the question to another table along the street. The perplexed reaction is the same, as is the grateful imparting of information. I wonder how many, if any, will look up the painting when they get home and further explore the works of Gustave Caillebotte.

We make our way back to Gare Saint-Lazare and ride a couple of different Metro lines to get back to the Odeon station. The sun has settled and the bistros are all full. We are looking for a spot in the small square near our hotel. The square is named Carrefour de l’Odeon and is a charming area with a nice tree growing in the center island. We find a table free at Les Editeurs. The bistro looks like a book shop inside, but we want to stay out on the street to soak in the evening and the atmosphere. It is nine o’clock and all of the four bistros we can see from our seat are full of patrons and life. We change things up and get a bottle of an aligoté, which is a white wine from the Burgundy region. The waitress brings an ice bucket which attaches to the table itself instead of being on a stand. This is the first time I have seen such a thing. It is certainly a space saver. There is a large group of young adults across the street, sitting on the step of the small island under the tree. They are all sharing some pizzas together and talking in animated fashion. The people watching is great and we enjoy the pleasant evening after a day with a lot of walking in it. After 10:30 we decide it is time for bed and stroll around the corner to our hotel. A bar near our hotel has a bunch of college aged kids pouring out into the street. Thankfully the windows in our room are excellent at shutting out the noise of the city and we sleep well.

Day 7 – September 14th (Versailles)

This morning we have breakfast at Le Hibou, which is another of the bistros on the small square near our hotel. I am having the standard French breakfast again this morning with a plain croissant and chocolate croissant to go with my cappuccino and juice. Rhonda has a cappuccino too and opts for a cheese omelette that comes with bread. The morning is cool but we know things will warm up as the sun climbs because it is supposed to be a cloudless day today. We knew Versailles would be on the itinerary for our return trip to Paris. Today is the day for that. We had a good experience with a private tour when traveling with my Mom and Dad in Germany and visiting Neuschwanstein Castle. Thus, long before this trip, I found and booked a private tour for Versailles. We figured that having someone to talk to that isn’t addressing a group and is devoted to you will be better than being in a large mass shuffling around on a schedule. The tour includes a private car to Versailles instead of riding in a bus. As we wander back to the hotel from breakfast we see a car waiting out front. We meet Dominique, our guide for the day. We hop in the back of the vehicle along with Dominique and are off.

Versailles is about 40 to 45 minutes away depending upon traffic. Things are going well this morning and as we move along Dominique gets to know us and we her. We discuss travel, pastries and history. As we get out of the city she begins covering some background information for visit to the royal palace. One of the first things that we learn is that the palace takes its name from the surrounding town. It was a small village when Louis XIII had a hunting lodge here in the mid 1600s. When Louis XIV took over he decided to turn it into a palace. All of the workmen that came to perform construction turned the small village turned into a small town. We drive through the town that butts up to and now surrounds the palace. At the time of Louis XIV, who really made it what it is, the grounds took up about 20,000 acres. Nowadays there is only 2000 that remain set aside. Once we are on the property and see how vast things are we find it hard to imagine the property taking up 10 times as much space. Most of that would have been wooded and used for hunting and such, but it’s still a huge amount of land. The driver drops us off at the gate just north of the palace which is an entrance to the gardens. That is where we will start today because Dominique smartly wants to begin outside before the sun begins to heat things up. Also, the gardens tend to be where people go second when visiting Versailles and they will be much emptier in the morning.

The gardens are not all what you think of as a typical garden. There are manicured areas with fountains and topiary and statues, called parterre. The majority of the numerous acres just behind the palace consist of eleven different groves. The groves are surrounded by very high, about ten feet, trimmed hedges and are full of wooded areas. These groves all have a central point which you arrive at via a turning or twisted path. Louis wanted visitors to be surprised when they arrived at the middle of each grove and saw what was waiting for them there. The groves hide fountains, statues, grottoes and theaters. There is a set of four fountains, one for each season, that kind of map out the quadrants of these front gardens. The seasonal fountains can be seen from the wide lanes that separate the groves and can be used to get your bearings. We wander in and out of the groves and take in the variety of areas that the gardens have to offer. There are fountains everywhere but they are not running. Modern day Versailles has the same problem that existed back in the 1600s, lack of water pressure. Because of that and also for conservation reasons, the fountains are not all running continuously. Different fountains will come on at different times and if you happen to catch one running it’s a treat. We asked Dominique how they dealt with it back in the day. She replies that the groundskeepers had a series of whistles that they would use to communicate with each other. When Louis was walking the gardens they would signal each other and turn on the fountains where he was headed, thus making sure they were always running around him. We find this a quite amusing but are somewhat sad we can’t enjoy the myriad of fountains in all their glory. We do catch the fountains in the Mirror Pool dancing to music during our visit this morning.

Louis XIV thought of himself as Apollo. He had a thing for Greek and Roman mythology. Many of the Groves have features in them that telling mythological stories. I particularly like the Enceladus grove, just because the subject of the fountain in the middle is less majestic. Encaladus is half-buried under a pile of rocks, struggling to survive as the gods of Olympus bury the titans that wanted to dethrone them. He has an agonized look on his face as he struggles to hurl the stone in his hand back at Olympus. The statuary lining the lanes is all classical Greek and Roman style gods and goddesses. The large fountain just behind palace illustrates the story of Latona, the mother of Apollo and Diana, protecting her children from the insults of the peasants of Lycia and pleading with Jupiter to avenge her. The god obliges by turning the inhabitants of Lycia into frogs and lizards. Thus, you see some odd figures in the fountain which are in mid metamorphosis with human bodies and frog heads or lizard limbs. As we ascend the steps up from the Latona fountain to the level of the palace we see two large pools on either side of the walkway. These have statues around them representing the major rivers in France. As you continue on towards the palace the Latona fountain fades from view beneath the steps. This is just another example of Louis wanting to surprise people. As they exit the palace they wouldn’t see the fountain and parterre surrounding it until they arrived at the top of the steps.

We have spent about an hour wandering in the gardens and now it is time to enter the palace itself. The palace is immense. There is a central building in the shape of a capital C with the outside of the back facing the gardens and the arms stretched towards the town. Huge wings extend off the points of the “C” to the north and south as well. There were 3000 people or more living here depending on the day and activities, so I guess you need a lot of space. We pass through an arch separating the central building with the south wing. We make it to the front and see lots of groups standing around beyond the courtyard waiting to gain entrance. We admire the gold gilt gates and fencing that spans between the two central arms of the palace to define the courtyard. Dominique leaves us for a moment as she approaches the entrance and retrieves our passes. We are only waiting a bit out in the hot sun and are glad that we are not amongst those groups with a long wait out here. Once inside we will visit the royal chapel between the central building and north wing. Then we will backtrack a bit and make our way across the top of the “C” through the king’s state apartments. We will work our way through this series of rooms to the back where it connects with the Hall of Mirrors and through those to the bottom of the “C”. Finally, we will complete the circuit back to the front via the Queens state apartments.

We start through a very grand entrance whose stairs we ascend to the first floor. We arrive in the Hercules salon which leads us to the upper vestibule the royal chapel. An interesting thing here is the pair of large doors that open into the upper level of the royal chapel. On the side we are on the doors have the royal crest with the crossed “L”s representing Louis. On the inside you see crosses and religious iconography. Essentially this is the threshold between state and church. The interior of the chapel is very ornate, but it’s the only place where you will see religious paintings and sculpture. Everything else in the palace is secular showing off the king’s power. Returning through the Hercules salon we turn towards the state apartments. The names of the rooms in the state apartments are more evidence of Louis XIV’s affinity for mythology. Beyond the Room of Abundance are the Venus room, the Diana room, the Mars room, the Mercury room and the Apollo room. You can definitely see the theme.

These state apartments are visual overload. Each room is decorated from floor to ceiling in an over the top style. There are statues and paintings and murals everywhere. The wallpaper also shows wealth and power which is really the purpose of these rooms to begin with. Each room has murals on the ceiling where the namesake deity is depicted. There are private apartments behind these accessible by hidden doors and panels in the wall. Some of these are readily visible like in the king’s state bedchamber. This is where he would go through the very public waking and dressing ceremonies. There almost becomes too much to look at. The opulence goes on and on and you almost become very quickly jaded. But then something in the next room captures your attention and imagination. Since there are only three of us, as we wander into each room Dominique is able to lead us through the crowd to the ropes and features that she wants to speak about in particular. Her knowledge is quite vast and any question that we ask she has a ready answer for. We make our way to the last in series of state apartments, the Apollo room, which was the ceremonial room where the throne sat. In here hangs the most famous painting of Louis XIV. He actually commissioned it for his son who was becoming king of Spain. When it was finished he liked it so much he kept the original and had a copy sent to his son. The original is now in the Louvre and the copy hangs here at Versailles.

In the corner of the building, just before the Hall of Mirrors is the War Room. In the opposite corner of the building through the hall is the Peace Room. The War Room depicts all of Louis’ major conquests over other countries in Europe. It is sort of saying, “Look what happens if you choose to oppose me.” The Hall of Mirrors itself is quite amazing. Two hundred and forty feet of glass and gold gilt awash in light. Dominique informs us that about seventy percent of the mirrors are the original Venetian mirrors from the 1600s. Louis XIV is again showing off with murals of his different political achievements proceeding down the entire ceiling. When the sun comes in from the windows it bounces off the mirrors and everything is brightly lit and visible. The amount of candles that are present in this hall is staggering. The cost of two thousand plus candles in this hall would exceed in commoner’s annual wage. A few of the mirrored archways are actually doors to more rooms behind. From the Peace Room, we pass into a different era.

While the king’s apartments are decorated in the style of Louis XIV, the queen’s apartments are in the style of the last queen, Marie Antoinette. These two wings are separated by 100 years of difference in fashion and taste. Things here are much softer in color and more floral in design. Gone are the gaudy greens and reds, and marble panels. Things here are much more pastel and relaxed, though still very opulent with plenty of gold everywhere. The floral designs run amuck over the walls and remind me of the mille fleur style of tapestry we saw yesterday. It is an interesting note that queen’s bed is larger than the king’s bed. This was because when nightly dalliances happened they occurred in the queen’s bed and then the king would retire to his own chambers. At the end of this series of rooms is the Coronation Room. This was a guard room when the palace was still a royal residence, but was redecorated when the palace became a museum in the early 1800s. It now celebrates Napoleon. The room is trimmed in gold gilt while a massive canvas covers each of the four walls. The paintings depict great moments in Napoleon’s life. A column commissioned by Napoleon to commemorate his victory at Austerlitz sits in the middle of the room. From here we descend to the courtyard. Dominique imparts more information about the rooms that surround us on the floors that we didn’t visit. While the queen stayed across the courtyard from the king, the mistresses of the king were on the floor above him. Dominique points out the balcony overlooking the marble courtyard and tells us the story of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette as they stood on that balcony and faced the revolutionary crowds.

We pass through the lower gallery beneath hall of mirrors back into the gardens. Walking by one of the parterres we veer a little to the left and overlook the Orangery. This is a special parterre where Louis XIV kept all of his orange trees. The designs in the grass and paths are quite beautiful. There are about three hectares of sculpted and verdant flora to observe. Over a thousand trees all in large boxes are lining the paths and add to the spectacle. Taking it in from above was a genius move by the architect so the work could be appreciated. The orange, palm, oleander, and pomegranate trees are kept in boxes so they can be hauled indoors during the French winters. Turning back to the west we cross back by the pools with the river statuary and come to the terrace overlooking the Latona fountain and parterre. I now appreciate the same device the architect used at the Orangery here. By viewing the parterre from a height, you can take in the sculptured and lovely designs of the walks and greenery better than you could being on the same level. Being a little after one o’clock Dominique brings up the subject of lunch, which we can take in one of two restaurants at the edge of the park. The park is the large wooded area behind the gardens. Both are near the Apollo fountain which is at the head of the Grand Canal. It will take a bit yet to get there, so we chat as we walk.

We opt for the little Italian restaurant named La Petite Venise. It is located in what used to be one of the stables and has seating in the building and also the yard in front of the stables under some trees. Being a nice day, we opt to sit outside, in the shade. The setting is lovely and secluded. Dominique and I both enjoy mafaldine arrabiata, and Rhonda has a mezzi rigatoni with truffle cream and speck. We have to look up mafaldine as none of us are familiar with that pasta. Turns out it is like a small lasagna noodle that is all ripples. The food is delectable and the bread amazing. We discussed things not having to deal with Versailles and pass a nice time with Dominique. Refreshed and ready for the afternoon we start out for the Estate of Trianon. As we walk along the roads and lanes I am amazed by the health of the trees. There seems to be no gaps in the trees that line the roads. They are a solid row of trunks for the whole length of whichever road you look down.

The Estate of Trianon consists of two different private residences. The Grand Trianon was built by Louis XIV so he could get away from the larger palace and spend time with his mistress. The Petite Trianon was built as a residence for the head mistress of Louis XV. It gained fame as the private retreat of the wife of Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette. The later will be the one that we visit. As we passed through the gates and approached the building Dominique points out a tree on the side of the courtyard. It is a massive Cedar of Lebanon that was thought to have been from the time of Louis XV, but now is known to be from the early 1800s. It makes for a stately sentinel, positioned as it is overlooking the front of the house. As expected, the interior is much more modest than the grand palace we toured earlier. It is by no means a hovel, though. While smaller and more intimate, it boasts several rooms on each level. The rooms are decorated in a more subtle style which is like a toned down version of the queen’s apartments in the main palace. The railings in the stairway sport a crest that is an “M” intertwined with an “A” instead of the crossed “L”s found elsewhere. It is just letting you know whose domain this was. A corner room next to the queen’s bedroom has an interesting feature. The room has two large windows. There are two panels of the same size that can be raised from the lower level by a pulley system. They would close off the windows and provide the room complete privacy. Mirrors are mounted on the inside of the panels and would help illuminate the room bereft of sunlight. Whenever guests outside would see the panels in place, gossip would begin to flow. Everyone knew something was going on in that room and to be invited in and take private counsel with Marie Antoinette was a mark of prestige.

Exiting the modest, by royal standards, residence we pass another of the notable trees here. This is a pagoda tree dating from the 1740s. To think of everything this tree has witnessed is quite remarkable. We turn to the space between the Grand Trianon and Petit Trianon where sits a French garden. While still sizable, it is nothing on the scale of the parterre we have seen today. Again, intimacy is desired and things area scaled down. In the garden sits a theater where Marie Antoinette would watch and participate in performances. It is the one build in the whole of Versailles that remains completely fully intact and unchanged since it opened, which was 1780. As we stroll the garden the fountains in this area come on. It completely changes the character of the garden. Hearing the trickle of the water from the small fountains between the paths lends an additional air of relaxation to the garden. Strolling to the north we enter a park like area with large lawns interspersed with ponds and groves. Along one of the paths we come to Marie Antoinette’s Grotto. In the gardens behind the main palace there is Apollo’s Grotto, which is a manmade hill and cave built with cement blocks carved and shaped to look like a natural formation. This is similar, though a bit smaller. As we make our way along a winding path we pass another of the trees of renown. This is a huge plane tree dating from 1798. We have noticed some squirrels scampering about. They are red squirrels which are smaller than what we are used to in the States and have tall, tufted ears.

Walking along a large manmade lake, we see the Queen’s Hamlet coming into view. This is another feature of Versailles made famous by Marie Antoinette. She had the hamlet built in the mid 1780s. It is a collection of buildings constructed to resemble common buildings found in the French countryside. The intent was to provide an environment where her children could learn what life was like outside of the palace and how a farm worked. The buildings themselves appear rustic on the outside but are fully furnished and more like a palace on the inside. She would host events here and things still had to be up to snuff. Almost all of the buildings have a sizable garden next them in which produce is being grown. A small farm was here at the time, and then was torn down in the early 1800s because it was falling apart. It was only reconstruction a couple of decades ago and is home to a variety of animals. It is said that the small watchtower here in the hamlet that looks somewhat like a lighthouse is high enough to see over the trees and to the main palace where signals can be passed back and forth. The hamlet is a lovely little area that almost seems like something out of the theme park. Seeing the rustic buildings perfectly placed in a well manicured area seems a bit disjointed. It is almost four o’clock and our time here is nearly done. Beyond the farm is a small pedestrian gate leading out of the gardens. We pass down a road which leads us to an entrance gate straddling a road. It is here we meet the driver who will take us back into the city.

We are headed back into Paris as people are beginning to get off work. The traffic isn’t too bad. During one stretch of the drive we are riding along the Seine south of the Eiffel Tower, looking for a road to cut over to the left bank on. As I gaze towards a bridge I see the model for the Statue of Liberty standing in the middle of the river. I had seen a picture of this previously but didn’t really look into where it was. It is a happy accident to pass it now. As we cross over to the left bank we ask Dominique to ask the driver if he can drop us at the Cluny Museum instead of our hotel. It is a small difference in distance and he says it will be fine. Traffic is getting heavier, but never becomes stop and go. The driver pulls up across the street from the Cluny and we and Dominique exit the vehicle. We say our grateful goodbyes and each go our separate ways. We make the quick stop in the museum shop to purchase the tapestry we had picked out yesterday.

On our way back to our hotel we pass a small patisserie named La Petite Viennoise and decide to pop in for a coffee. We decide to share a piece of an apple pie that looks lovely as well. We manage to get our order placed in a mix of French and English and one of the older ladies minding the shop tells us to just take a seat. It is a cramped little place on the campus of the Sorbonne. We find a small table by the window. The coffees and treat is brought out shortly and while we enjoy our small repast the place begins to fill up. The coffee is very good and the pie tasty. The break also gives us a chance to decide what to do with the rest of the evening. Since the sun won’t be down for a while yet I suggest taking a walk to the Luxembourg Gardens, which are not far from our hotel. That is agreed upon. We pay at the counter, stop by the hotel to drop off the tapestry and turn our feet towards the gardens south of us.

The Luxembourg Gardens are a very large public space adjacent to what was once a palace but is now a government building where the French Senate meets. The palace and gardens were built as a residence by Marie de’Medici, the widow of Henry IV, during the 1600s. It seems there is going to be a function at the main building as some areas next to the building a fenced off and setup with tables. The central area has a large reflecting pool and manicured open spaces very reminiscent of the gardens at Versailles. The park is full of people enjoying the outdoors after work. The benches are all full of people in conversation and reading. We see more than one frisbee toss going on. We luck out and locate an empty bench at the end of the reflecting pool which is bordered with a riot of flowers. You can just spot the top of the Eiffel tower to the west and the roofs of buildings to the east. It is a peaceful space and the bustle of the city seems somewhat removed. The sun is setting and breaks out of below some clouds on its way down. The reddish light illuminates the canopies of the trees to our rights and warms the marble railing of the terrace. The large potted arrangements on the rail also glow in the sunbeams, set off against the shadows under the trees beyond. At about 6:45 a few police come through the park blowing their whistles and announcing that the park is closing. Everyone starts to make their way towards one of the main gates. We exit towards the south just to see a bit more of the manicured lanes and foliage.

We decide to head north towards the river and seek out some place for dinner. We pass by the Pantheon and Saint Entienne we had seen a couple of days earlier. Down the hill a ways from the Pantheon we find a likely spot along the Boulevard Saint-Germain named Café du Metro. It fronts on an open square and we take a table. Rhonda has a supreme du poulet which is a breast and thigh of chicken roasted and served with a lovely mushroom gravy and mashed potatoes. I have the classic boeuf bourguignon which comes with some croquettes. Both dishes are delicious. We had noticed some signs around town mentioning the Rugby World cup which is being hosted in Paris while we are here. The televisions in the café have all been on some sports channel while we dined. Suddenly, the sound from the broadcast is fed through the café’s speaker system and everyone in the restaurant can hear. France’s match with Uruguay has started and all of Paris seems to be watching. We see a bar across the square with the game on and people pouring out onto the sidewalk. When something good happens, you hear cheering from all over the street. With our meal complete and the glasses of wine drunk we decide to stroll down to the Seine.

It is easy to keep up with the game as it is on every television in every brasserie and café we pass. When we reach the river, we want to cross over to the Île de la Cité, the island in the Seine, to have a closer look at the works being done on Notre Dame. We find the bridge immediately in front of the cathedral is blocked. Apparently, there is a movie being filmed and the scene being shot at the current moment is taking place on the bridge. It is a small production, nothing like some of the Hollywood setups I have seen. We observe two actors conversing on the far side of the bridge, overlooking the river. We head up the river to the next bridge and walk out to the middle. We gaze at the lights in the water and enjoy the pleasant evening. At one point a huge group of bicyclists crosses the Seine. They seem to go on forever. Walking back to the left bank we see a busker singing La Bamba and playing a drum, which strikes us as amusing. As we make our way back towards our hotel we can see that the French rugby team was victorious. I am happy for the team and the host city. We finish the night with a bottle of rosé at Le Editeurs around the corner from our hotel.

Day 8 – September 15th (Eiffel Tower and Montmartre)

We awake refreshed and ready for the day. We know we have a big meal for lunch today, so we forego breakfast in lieu of coffee in the room as we get ready. During our last trip to Paris we took our last breakfast on the Champs de Mars, which is one of the parks southeast of the Eiffel Tower. This time we are actually going to be dining in the tower itself. I did some investigation before the trip and found two different restaurants in the tower itself. The one on the second level is a Michelin star restaurant and way too pricey for lunch. Thus, we have reservations at Madame Brasserie on the first level. The instructions we received tell us that we need to pick up our tickets by 11:30. Thus, we have a little bit of Metro riding to do this morning on a couple of different lines. We’re going to take the Metro to the Ecole Militaire station which is right next to where we stayed last time in Paris. We’re doing this instead of going to the station along the river just so we can walk by our favorite brasserie from last time and stroll the parks fronting the tower. While waiting for a train in the station we see a Lavazza coffee machine. Seems like kind of a fancy label to have an automated machine in a public transit station. We arrive at the station with plenty of time to walk to the tower and find the gate that we need. The sky is clear today and the tower looks lovely set against the blue of the sky and rising from the green of the trees in the park.

The area around the base of the tower is completely enclosed in high glass walls. Security is very serious for this icon of Paris. The map I had from the restaurant shows the reception booth where we’re supposed to pick up our lift tickets on the north side of the tower. As we approach that side I realize the gate we need to use to actually enter the forecourt of the tower is on the opposite side. Thus, we find ourselves walking around the tower on the Seine side which affords a lot of people watching opportunities. Given that this is such a popular tourist destination there are loads of hawkers selling their miniature Eiffel towers for a single euro apiece. This is actually the first we have seen of these street vendors that seemed to be everywhere in Rome. They are thick as gnats as you walk down the sidewalk. We are approached a few times by people with a clipboard asking if we speak English. Knowing that they have some scam they’re trying to run we just wave them off. We make our way around to the southwest side and find the proper gate to get in. We have to show our reservations at security and then go through the standard bag check and metal detector. Once we’re in the forecourt we cross under the tower and find the reception booth for Madame Brasserie. It is there that we pick up our lift tickets and are directed to you the eastern leg of the tower where the lift is that we will ride up. There is another security checkpoint to get in line for the lift. There’s a bit of a line, but the one that we’re in is shorter because we have reservations that are timed and need to get upstairs. The wait is not long and soon we are on the first level of the Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower is one of those monuments like the Statue of Liberty that is so ingrained in popular culture and so reproduce that everyone is familiar with it. It is easy to be jaded about such a landmark, but actually standing at the foot of it and looking up is still a wondrous experience. The lattice of metal is distinctively of the period when the tower was built and shows small flourishes and embellishments here and there. As you move around the base and even on the first level the changing perspective as you move and look up through the metalwork makes it act like a kaleidoscope against the sky with varying geometric shapes being created and vanishing. The age of the tower is something that is taken for granted as well. While waiting to take the lift up I see a sign stating, “Machinerie Historique 1899”. It makes me wonder which parts of the machinery are from 1899 and which parts are newer or refurbished. The lift itself is a pair of cars set off center one above the other on a diagonal track like a couple of elevator cars being pulled up a steep angle. Different cars are loaded for stops at the first or second level. Standing on the first level and looking out gives you a wonderful panorama of Paris in every direction. There are some glass floor plates in the inner corners that allow you to stand and look to the ground below. Gazing up towards the top seems like you’re looking at the underside of a four tentacled octopus that’s swallowing you up. All in all we are impressed with the structure and see why it became so popular and remains so after all the years it’s been in existence. While visiting the tower is a cliché thing to do in Paris, it is a cliché for a reason because it is very worth doing.

Madame Brasserie is two restaurants in one. There is the Brasserie on the lower level and the Madame on the upper. The Brasserie has a small menu and is simpler, more like standard café. The Madame is a gourmet affair with the dress code. We have pre-booked a city view table in the Madame restaurant. We only expect to do this once in our lives, so why not be fancy. After being greeted at the door we are led up the stairs and shown to a table about in the center of the glass wall facing the Seine. There are three tables next to each other and our is the middle one. There will be a French couple sitting at the table next to the window who are celebrating something but, we never find out what. A pair of older Australian ladies is already sitting at the other table further away from the window. They are here celebrating a birthday. They are chatty and pleasant enough to converse with from time to time. The menu is a prix fixe with a couple of choices for a starter, a few choices for a main, and a couple of choices for the dessert. Things start with the glass of champagne brought by our waiter. We explain our French isn’t too good and he says that is OK because he speaks “Franglish”. We look over the menu and make our selections ensuring we are not ordering the same thing for each course so we can taste a greater variety of dishes.

The meal is served in a casual pace and is quite lovely. The starters we have chosen are gazpacho with fresh mozzarella and a bit of pork tenderloin with apple puree. Both are excellent and modestly size so as to leave room for further courses. The mains we have chosen are hake a beurre blanc with artichoke and served over potato puree. The other is beef tartar with new potatoes. Once again both courses are delicious. The one distraction from the meal is couple of American ladies sitting behind Rhonda. They are loud and complain incessantly about their perceived problems with air travel on this trip. They are the type of American that gives the rest of us a bad name. Rhonda explains to the French girl next to her that we are embarrassed by the way they are behaving. Thankfully they’re not sitting next to us where they may have tried to draw us into their incessant negativity and entitlement. We put them out of our minds as the desserts arrive. Mine is a lovely dark chocolate mousse which is smooth and luscious. Rhonda’s lemon tart is a little too tart for her taste and she lets it set mostly uneaten. That is just as well as the meal was filling enough for her. With our meal completed we walk out into the center of the first level. We find observation decks on the three side of the tower. The tower itself provides some shade and there is a breeze blowing at this height which makes things very comfortable. We spend quite a bit of time looking over the river and towards the north as well. Eventually we decide to take the lift down and continue on with our day, well satisfied with our experience.

The place we are headed this afternoon is Montmartre. There are a couple of trains we will take to get up there and we need to find our way to the first station along the river. What we come to is the commuter train station instead of the Metro station. Asking around we find that there is a tunnel that takes us over to the Metro station platform where we can pick up the train that crosses the river and heads north. A note about the Metro stations themselves. When the train stops it doesn’t stop for long. You have about 15 to 30 seconds to either exit or enter the car before it is whisked away down the tracks to the next stop. We ride the Metro to the Anvers stop which is directly below the Sacré Coeur and the park in front of it. Montmartre is a large hill in the north of Paris. It was a Bohemian enclave during the Belle Epoque era during the late 1800s when the city was being rebuilt after a war and impressionism was taking off. It remains somewhat of an artist community today. Because of the topography of the steep sided hill there were many windmills located here. Today only two of the original windmills remain. The cabarets located here during the late 1800s also brought fame to the enclave. The Moulin de la Galette and Moulin Rouge being the two most famous. Moulin is French for windmill. Many of the lithographs and paintings done by Toulouse-Lautrec depict the clientele at those two establishments and other locations around Montmartre. We had a brief visit to Montmartre on our previous trip to Paris but want to explore it a little more fully this time. We’ve also become a fan of the movie Amelie, much of which was filmed here. Aside from the Sacré Coeur, which deserves a visit of its own regardless of the movie, we will seek out Maison Collingon which is a grocery she frequents in the building in which she lives and the Café des Deux Moulins where Amelie worked in the movie.

Exiting the Metro station we cross the street and walk up a steep couple of blocks to the foot of the Square Louise Michel. It is not a square so much as a park on the steep hillside below the Sacré Coeur. The Sacré Coeur is a basilica on the very top of the hill with distinctive domed towers. The park climbing the hill in front of the basilica has many looping paths and stairs used to get to the top of the hill. There is also a carousel in a flat area at bottom of the park. The couple of blocks we walk up are very touristy with many souvenir shops. Coming to the park we look to our left and see a café with tables on the street facing the park and gardens named Le Studio Café. We snag a table with great view of all the people coming and going and the scenery on the hillside topped by the basilica. We quench our thirst with some water and our now requisite bottle of rosé de Provence. We help a couple unfamiliar with French café etiquette which we notice glancing at the menu and looking perplexedly at the empty tables and no one acting as hostess. We tell them to just sit where they want and someone will come along to help them. After a while I notice a big group of large men all in white shirts spilling into the park across the way. As a few come our way and I comment that they look like one of the rugby teams that are in town for the World Cup. The few are heading into the café to grab some drinks. Rhonda asks one of the fellows if they are rugby players. He responds in the positive saying that he plays for Roissy. Roissy is one of the French rugby teams, so this group is the French national team that won the match last night. As they come back out we and some others around within earshot congratulate them on their victory. I now notice how quickly the rugby team makes their way up the steep paths and steps in the park. They are definitely in better shape than most of the tourists. Another observation of our people watching in Paris is that you rarely see an overweight person. An obese person is an extreme rarity to see out and about. I’m very conscious of that fact being somewhat overweight myself.

Once our wine is finished we decided to do a little shopping for family and friends around the corner. We don’t find much of interest and decide to make her way to the top of my Montmartre. Fortunately, our RATP pass that we have been using on the Metro also works for the funicular that rides up the left side of the park. This will save us a little effort on a hot day and we walk over to the base of the train that will take us to the top. It is a little bit of a mess because one of the trains is not running and everybody is trying to get on the one that is. Some folks are not paying attention to the signage and ticketing and it is a little bit of mob scene. Eventually though we do make our way on the cogged train and to the top. The views of Paris from the terrace in front of the Sacré Coeur are quite lovely. We had observed this height from the observation deck on the Eiffel Tower now have wonderful view back over the city in the opposite direction. The basilica has some lovely architectural features and a somewhat unusual style, which I later learn is neo-Byzantine-Romanesque. The domes with the elongated cupola are a striking and distinctive feature. We walk along the western side of the basilica admiring the details, especially the gargoyles. Reaching the street running along the back we began our long and winding stroll down the hill. We ambled along for a bit between studios, shops and houses. We come to a large square on the top of the hill filled with trees and artists with a pad on an easel displaying their work and offering to do sketches. This is Place de Tertre. Shops and cafés line the outside of the square and there is a large one under an awning in the middle of the square. There we see the entire rugby team making toasts and enjoying some well deserved celebratory drinks.

The streets of Montmartre are close and the architecture old style Parisian. Being on steep hillsides every once in a while you catch a glimpse of the city panorama beyond the buildings. You see these especially on the turns in the road and when you have steps to go down where it is too steep for a road. We pass a couple of cafes that are strewn with flowers and lots of little cute shops with their macaroons, pastries and cheeses out in the window. Coming down the hill we find the Wall of Love in the Jehan Rictus garden square. It is a large area of blue tiles fixed to the side of the building that has “I love you” written 311 times in 250 different languages. It’s hidden away in a little garden off the road and it’s a pleasant spot. Continuing on we arrive at Maison Collignon. It is on a corner and has an open shop front that spills out onto the street where there are tables with displays of fruit and vegetables. The grocery store renamed itself for the proprietor in the movie after the movie became popular. As we continue to stroll the streets downward we come to where things get a little busier. Many cafes and shops line the street but it is the locals frequenting this area and not the tourist like over by Sacré Coeur. Taking another turn and coming down the hill we spot the Café des Deux Moulins. We hope to have dinner and some wine while sitting in a window of the café. Walking in we see things have changed a little from when it starred in the movie. The tobacco counter is gone and is replaced with a few tables. What served as the front door and the movie are French doors that are open and tables are set up in front of them. The proper door in the corner is the way in and out now. One of the tables by the windows is empty and so we have a seat where we can view the street and the passersby. When we go to order our food we asked for a frommage and charcuterie plate, but the waitresses is cautious. She says one is a very big cheese plate and the other a very big charcuterie plate. She recommends the mixed board if we want both. When the tray is brought out we can see it will be more than we can eat. They are very generous with their cheeses and meats in France and this place is no exception. The restaurant itself seems a bit rundown and living off of its former fame. The restaurant has a little shrine to the movie set up in a small alcove back by the restroom. It also displays a large picture of the titular character to one side. It knows fans of the movie will come and doesn’t seem to care that it is starting to appear a little dilapidated. We enjoy our meal and the people watching is good out on the street which is busy on this Friday evening.

We decide after a long meal that we are unable to complete that it is time to move along and head back to the left bank. We finish the stroll down the hill and come out by the Moulin Rouge. Using the app on my phone I plot a course back to the Odeon station by our hotel. The Metro, which has been our companion and aid, now turns on us. At the Barbes Rouchechouart station we switch from the 2 to the 4 train, which will take us directly down to Odeon. The train arrives and we get on board, but then there is a longer than normal pause. Eventually an announcement comes over the speakers which I cannot catch. The idea is obvious though as everyone on the train gets off. The train goes back to the west instead of continuing on eastward and everybody is a little mystified. A second train comes along in a few moments and everyone on the platform boards again. Once again an announcement will come over the speakers and everyone will have to get back on the platform. Then I notice when the train backs off to the west it approaches again on the other side of the station, picks up passengers heading west and then continues on its way, effectively turning around. The group on the platform is eerily quiet while waiting for the next train to arrive. Creepy tapping and cricket noises emanate from the tunnel to our right, enhancing the quiet. Another train arrives and the whole routine is repeated again. The crowd on the platform continues to grow as people getting off the trains and those waiting pile up with those coming to the station to catch the train for the first time. When the fourth train comes and is again turned away people begin giving up, us included. Pulling up the app on my phone again I plot a different course to get back to Odeon. We recross the connected stations to catch the 2 westward to the 12 which will take us to the left bank. Unfortunately, once we’re on the 12 when it gets to the stop before Lazar station the train stops at the platform and all the power goes out. People wait on the train that is getting increasingly hot and stuffy for a several minutes. At this point Rhonda and I have had enough and exit the train and station completely.

We walked up on the street and are pleased to be out in the fresh air. Across the way we see a taxi stand that must serve the nearby Gare Lazare station. We hop into an available cab and I let him know where we are going. He takes a few moments and I can tell he is plotting things in his head. Without the aid of GPS the cabbie does a very good job of avoiding traffic and getting us directly to where we are going. As we pass by the Louvre we see a choir standing by an arch and singing. Before long the cabbie has us back at our old square next to our hotel. We have a seat at Danton out by the statue. Rhonda decides to stick with wine, but I switch to calvados, an apple brandy from Normandy. Looking at the desserts I determine a little ice cream would be nice on a warm evening. I get a sundae of sorts with a luscious vanilla ice cream and hazelnut topping. Rhonda has a lemon sorbet and vodka combination for her treat. We sit and enjoy our desserts and drinks as we watch the Friday night crowds gather to welcome the weekend. Reminiscent of the bicyclists the previous evening, we see a huge group of people on roller blades and skates cruising down Saint Germaine in a large mass. They are followed by numerous bicyclists and then finally a public safety vehicle. A while afterwards a contraption comes driving down the road spewing firework upwards to the treetops. It seems Friday nights are active in Paris. We see several people heading to the Metro station with baggage who must be off on a weekend visit. That will be us tomorrow, so for now we enjoy our last evening in Paris.

Day 9 – September 16th (Back Home)

Our flight doesn’t leave until around 2:00 this afternoon. Thus, we are in no rush this morning. We start with a stroll down to Danton, where we finished the night yesterday. We find a table outside the front and have a seat. Things are much more sedate out on the street this morning and the trees along the lane look nice in the morning sun. We order up two glasses of champagne so we can toast a successful trip. I complement that with the petite dejuener and Rhonda a cheese omelet. We take our time and enjoy the morning and the atmosphere around us. Eventually though it is time to go and we walk back to the room and undertake the business of packing. We’ve arranged for a car to take us to the airport which is about a 45-minute trip. We leave early just in case of troubles on the road or getting checked in. There are no problems though and we find ourselves with plenty of time to spend at the airport. We stroll the duty free shops but find nothing of interest. We decide to locate a place to sit and have a final bottle of rosé de Provence. The place we find is a little bistro named I Love Paris. How appropriate. Since it is getting on towards noon we order up a small cheese plate to go with the wine and provide a light lunch. The flight is long, but uneventful. Midway through a meal is served, which is not very good. We say as much as they clear the trays and one attendant makes her apologies and seems grateful for the honest feedback. When we awake after a nap we find some chocolates and sweet treats left on our folding tables for us. It is a nice gesture that we appreciate.

Our return to Europe after four years has been a resounding success. We wish we had had more time in Bruges and Amsterdam, but you can’t do it all in a long week. I am glad I learned some Dutch language pleasantries before the trip, but they weren’t needed. Maybe they were appreciated when I did use them. English was ubiquitous and we had no problems in any of the cities we visited. The pace of the trip was unhurried, and we spent lots of time relaxing and taking in the culture and lifestyle around us. However, since we spent a lot of time in Paris, which is a bustling metropolis, some of the freneticism rubs off on you and makes it seems like you are in a hurry. There were lots of wonderful works of art and historical architecture to admire, which we always enjoy. I look forward to our next venture over the Atlantic and what new discoveries it will bring.