the first time I saw Paris
My first visit to belle Paris was in 2003. At the time, my family and friends thought I was very courageous to go to Europe by myself. Ever since a week-long work trip to Huntington Beach (CA), I’d gone on solo holidays. I found I liked it as I could decide and go, not worry about conflicting schedules, or grumpy left-at-home partners. Plus I could see what I wanted to see. The only way to travel as far as I was concerned.
France gave me no pause. After a trip to Montréal and Québec (City) and a semester of French, I was ready. I would be gone for almost three weeks: one week in Paris, then a train to Nice for a few days, another train to Avignon in Provence for a handful of days, then the TGV (high speed train) return to Paris for my last two days. And I was meeting an ex beau, one of the good guys, in Avignon. O la la la la…
When I arrived at my hotel, the Hotel Opera Cadet in the ninth arrondissement, I was so excited, I could barely stand it. I unpacked my one suitcase, put away my black, grey, and red coordinating clothes, and ventured out. The hotel was on a lovely street, full of fromageries and boulangeries. And I don’t know what they’re called, but those shops where you could buy food for dinner, already cooked. I did this a couple of times, the poulet rôti et pommes de terre were delicious. Rue Cadet also had a wonderful sushi shop.
I spent the next week walking everywhere. And taking the Le Metro. To Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, Musée Rodin, and la Tour Eiffel. To Montmartre and Sacré-Cœur. To the rive gauche (left bank) and back to the right. To the Pompidou Centre and Stravinsky Fountain. And to Galeries Lafayette, Printemps, and the soon to be reopened Samaritaine. To the grand old opera house, Palais Garnier. Grabbing lots of petit café noirs on the way.
Actually, on my first full day, I set out on foot to go to the Louvre and la Seine. Well, as some of you might know, at times my sense of direction is not that great, and I ended up in Montmartre, the exact opposite of what I’d planned. But no matter. This charming neighbourhood was on my list, too.
I traveled out to Versailles with mother and daughter fellow travelers staying at my hotel. They didn’t want to pay for the full tour, so I didn’t pay for it either. (See my opening paragraph.) When we returned to our hotel, we went our own ways and I had dinner at a restaurant recommended by locals who had been going there since they were kids, as had their parents. I should have known better than to eat at an establishment given an emotional thumbs up.
I got a case of food poisoning from eating chicken that was not cooked all the way through. I was ill later that night and the half the next day. I remember being mortified having to call down to the front desk and try to explain that I needed more towels. The next day, I ventured out to eat, as I was ravenous. The grilled salmon and potatoes stayed in place, so I was good to go.
I missed the Louvre, due to being ill and the closed on Tuesdays thing, as I’d only bought a three day pass. (But I caught it my next trip, and with a friend who got us in free and with no wait due to his job.)
I packed and took a taxi to the train that would take me on my next leg of this dream come true. Nice was a nice change from the busyness and coolness of Paris in mid-October. My room was lovely and I experienced my first bidet. Seriously. Why aren’t these mandatory in bathrooms in America? Such a sensible and necessary thing.
I wandered through the old streets and to the Promenade des Anglais and saw the Mediterranean for the first time. Ahhhh… so, so blue! I had lunch at a cafe on the stony beach and had a wonderful salade niçoise along with the required half bottle of wine. (I drank a half bottle of wine at lunch and at dinner every day, and it was wonderful.) I climbed to the top of Castle Hill (Colline du Château) for the magnificent views and found a lovely waterfall. I took a short train ride along the coast to Monaco and Monte Carlo. Very pretty, but where was Cary?
I ate a lot of seafood in Nice and and simply sat at the seaside and relaxed. It was perfect and warm (a sun-burned nose!) and I loved the colourful architecture and that blue, blue sea.
Too soon it was time for Avignon. I walked to the train station and waited. While waiting, I was pick-pocketed. He or she were very good as I didn’t even know it had happened and my zippered bag had never left my shoulder. Only €100, so not the end of the world and I was not hurt so I just chalked it up to one of the things that sometimes happens. I made the discovery while I was on the train, looking to buy lunch. Oh, well. When we pulled into Avignon, it was pouring. The cab driver was very nice and he drove me to a bank so I could get cash. Then to my hotel. It was beautiful! A huge cheerful room, and even though I’d missed lunchtime, they put together a cheese and baguette plate for me which held me until their dining room opened for dinner.
My hotel was not in Avignon proper, but across the Rhône, in Villeneuve-lès-Avignon. The quiet Avignon. Bliss. I had a day to myself before G arrived. I visited the Chartreuse du Val-de-Bénédiction and wandered around this beautiful Carthusian monastery that dates back to the Middle Ages. I explored the local cemetery. I met a couple from Los Angeles who invited me to visit them in California. He was some big shot in the film industry but as I don’t read People magazine, his name didn’t ring a bell. (But I did look him up online when I returned home, and I was quite impressed.) There was a charming bar where I could get my small espressos for one euro. Half the price of Paris.
When G arrived from the south west of France, he picked me up at my hotel in his little red Peugeot convertible. We ate in a small bistro near our hotels and had a bottle of white, a bottle of red, and more. A delicious meal. We ended the day with a nightcap at my one euro petit café noir place.
The next day we drove out to Vers-Pont-du-Gard to see Pont du Gard, a Roman aqueduct built over three thousand years ago. First we stopped to buy baguettes and champagne to have for lunch with the fresh oysters G had bought at his village market and had kept on ice during his drive. Such a great surprise. And delicious! He sure could shuck those beauties.
We drove back to Avignon and wandered around town. We went to the Pont d'Avignon, a bridge spanning the Rhône between Villeneuve-lès-Avignon and Avignon. (You all know the song.) It was built between 1177 and 1185. Ancient. Sometimes we’d stop and just be amazed at how o-l-d this village was. We had another amazing dinner. I had my first foie gras. Pan seared in a raspberry reduction. Rare. Beyond delicious. It literally melted in my mouth. And please, no comments on the geese.
G left, I returned to Paris on the TGV. Wow. Amazing what money put into infrastructure can actually do. For two days, I revisited my favourite places: La Samaritaine, Notre Dame, Stravinsky Fountain. And just wandered along the Seine, visiting the bouquinistes, buying small things (two volumes of Dumas!), feeling amazed and grateful to actually have walked these streets.
Some things I especially loved from my first trip: Parisians, indeed all the French LOVE their dogs and cats; French children and teenagers were very well-behaved and polite, much more so than the majority of American kids; I loved the fromageries where one could buy pieces of cheese like chocolates; Paris started me on my love affair with scarves; and those bouquinistes… I was totally enamoured of them. And still am.
I knew I’d return. Paris (and France) had cast her spell and I was completely and totally smitten.
France gave me no pause. After a trip to Montréal and Québec (City) and a semester of French, I was ready. I would be gone for almost three weeks: one week in Paris, then a train to Nice for a few days, another train to Avignon in Provence for a handful of days, then the TGV (high speed train) return to Paris for my last two days. And I was meeting an ex beau, one of the good guys, in Avignon. O la la la la…
When I arrived at my hotel, the Hotel Opera Cadet in the ninth arrondissement, I was so excited, I could barely stand it. I unpacked my one suitcase, put away my black, grey, and red coordinating clothes, and ventured out. The hotel was on a lovely street, full of fromageries and boulangeries. And I don’t know what they’re called, but those shops where you could buy food for dinner, already cooked. I did this a couple of times, the poulet rôti et pommes de terre were delicious. Rue Cadet also had a wonderful sushi shop.
I spent the next week walking everywhere. And taking the Le Metro. To Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle, Musée Rodin, and la Tour Eiffel. To Montmartre and Sacré-Cœur. To the rive gauche (left bank) and back to the right. To the Pompidou Centre and Stravinsky Fountain. And to Galeries Lafayette, Printemps, and the soon to be reopened Samaritaine. To the grand old opera house, Palais Garnier. Grabbing lots of petit café noirs on the way.
Actually, on my first full day, I set out on foot to go to the Louvre and la Seine. Well, as some of you might know, at times my sense of direction is not that great, and I ended up in Montmartre, the exact opposite of what I’d planned. But no matter. This charming neighbourhood was on my list, too.
I traveled out to Versailles with mother and daughter fellow travelers staying at my hotel. They didn’t want to pay for the full tour, so I didn’t pay for it either. (See my opening paragraph.) When we returned to our hotel, we went our own ways and I had dinner at a restaurant recommended by locals who had been going there since they were kids, as had their parents. I should have known better than to eat at an establishment given an emotional thumbs up.
I got a case of food poisoning from eating chicken that was not cooked all the way through. I was ill later that night and the half the next day. I remember being mortified having to call down to the front desk and try to explain that I needed more towels. The next day, I ventured out to eat, as I was ravenous. The grilled salmon and potatoes stayed in place, so I was good to go.
I missed the Louvre, due to being ill and the closed on Tuesdays thing, as I’d only bought a three day pass. (But I caught it my next trip, and with a friend who got us in free and with no wait due to his job.)
I packed and took a taxi to the train that would take me on my next leg of this dream come true. Nice was a nice change from the busyness and coolness of Paris in mid-October. My room was lovely and I experienced my first bidet. Seriously. Why aren’t these mandatory in bathrooms in America? Such a sensible and necessary thing.
I wandered through the old streets and to the Promenade des Anglais and saw the Mediterranean for the first time. Ahhhh… so, so blue! I had lunch at a cafe on the stony beach and had a wonderful salade niçoise along with the required half bottle of wine. (I drank a half bottle of wine at lunch and at dinner every day, and it was wonderful.) I climbed to the top of Castle Hill (Colline du Château) for the magnificent views and found a lovely waterfall. I took a short train ride along the coast to Monaco and Monte Carlo. Very pretty, but where was Cary?
I ate a lot of seafood in Nice and and simply sat at the seaside and relaxed. It was perfect and warm (a sun-burned nose!) and I loved the colourful architecture and that blue, blue sea.
Too soon it was time for Avignon. I walked to the train station and waited. While waiting, I was pick-pocketed. He or she were very good as I didn’t even know it had happened and my zippered bag had never left my shoulder. Only €100, so not the end of the world and I was not hurt so I just chalked it up to one of the things that sometimes happens. I made the discovery while I was on the train, looking to buy lunch. Oh, well. When we pulled into Avignon, it was pouring. The cab driver was very nice and he drove me to a bank so I could get cash. Then to my hotel. It was beautiful! A huge cheerful room, and even though I’d missed lunchtime, they put together a cheese and baguette plate for me which held me until their dining room opened for dinner.
My hotel was not in Avignon proper, but across the Rhône, in Villeneuve-lès-Avignon. The quiet Avignon. Bliss. I had a day to myself before G arrived. I visited the Chartreuse du Val-de-Bénédiction and wandered around this beautiful Carthusian monastery that dates back to the Middle Ages. I explored the local cemetery. I met a couple from Los Angeles who invited me to visit them in California. He was some big shot in the film industry but as I don’t read People magazine, his name didn’t ring a bell. (But I did look him up online when I returned home, and I was quite impressed.) There was a charming bar where I could get my small espressos for one euro. Half the price of Paris.
When G arrived from the south west of France, he picked me up at my hotel in his little red Peugeot convertible. We ate in a small bistro near our hotels and had a bottle of white, a bottle of red, and more. A delicious meal. We ended the day with a nightcap at my one euro petit café noir place.
The next day we drove out to Vers-Pont-du-Gard to see Pont du Gard, a Roman aqueduct built over three thousand years ago. First we stopped to buy baguettes and champagne to have for lunch with the fresh oysters G had bought at his village market and had kept on ice during his drive. Such a great surprise. And delicious! He sure could shuck those beauties.
We drove back to Avignon and wandered around town. We went to the Pont d'Avignon, a bridge spanning the Rhône between Villeneuve-lès-Avignon and Avignon. (You all know the song.) It was built between 1177 and 1185. Ancient. Sometimes we’d stop and just be amazed at how o-l-d this village was. We had another amazing dinner. I had my first foie gras. Pan seared in a raspberry reduction. Rare. Beyond delicious. It literally melted in my mouth. And please, no comments on the geese.
G left, I returned to Paris on the TGV. Wow. Amazing what money put into infrastructure can actually do. For two days, I revisited my favourite places: La Samaritaine, Notre Dame, Stravinsky Fountain. And just wandered along the Seine, visiting the bouquinistes, buying small things (two volumes of Dumas!), feeling amazed and grateful to actually have walked these streets.
Some things I especially loved from my first trip: Parisians, indeed all the French LOVE their dogs and cats; French children and teenagers were very well-behaved and polite, much more so than the majority of American kids; I loved the fromageries where one could buy pieces of cheese like chocolates; Paris started me on my love affair with scarves; and those bouquinistes… I was totally enamoured of them. And still am.
I knew I’d return. Paris (and France) had cast her spell and I was completely and totally smitten.
 |
| Montmartre 35mm ©Trish Korous |
 |
| Nice 35mm ©Trish Korous |
 |
| Villeneuve-lès-Avignon 35mm © Trish Korous |
 |
| Stravinsky Fountain 35mm ©Trish Korous |
Comments
Post a Comment