Friday, 18 August 2017 to Thursday, 24 August 2017
Yesterday we arrived in Paris, thoroughly tired after negotiating busses and bus stops with poor signage and metros and metro stops with poor traveller facilities such as escalators to do the heavy lifting. Above expectations, we finally did arrive at our hotel safe and sound. So, of course we slept in this morning and got up just in time to go for breakfast.

Rain was forecast for Paris today and it sure delivered on its promise. As I drew the curtains aside I was met with a gray Paris with gray clouds clouding the sky. Rain was softly falling, sometimes increasing just a tad in intensity, it was great! We found the breakfast room in what can only be described as a dungeon, complete with rough stone walls and a rounded cement roof overhead, rather enchanting actually.

Breakfast was okay, continental style and all, but truth be told, it was rather too continental for my liking. There were no eggs, there was no bacon or sausages; nothing freshly produced. There were plenty of breads and croissant, and yogurt, and ham and cheeses, and corn flakes and fruit salad and juice and coffee and… This I could surely handle for a few days, but eight?

We rested and relaxed while the rain continued outside and when it finally did stop we were outta there like a hound on heat. What was intended as a short walk ended up being a safari of note. On a detour route wandering through little streets with charming architecture we finally ended up at the Montparnasse train station and took a breather at the Jardin Atlantique park situated essentially right above the station. There were friends sitting in circles on the grass, a mother with her three young offspring playing ball and reading, it was a wonderfully relaxing place.

 

 

From inside the park we noticed the entrance to the Musée Jean Moulin which depicts the life and times of Jean Moulin who was a high-profile member of the Resistance in France during World War II. As it was close to closing time we hurried through there but I would have liked to have spent more time there though, rather interesting World War II history and memorabilia in there.

 

 

 

 

And staying on the subject of war, a short way away from the Jardin Atlantique we stumbled upon a type of military surplus store with military gear and clothing of all persuasion. This we also found rather interesting and lingered there longer than expected.

On the way home and across the road from the Pernety metro station we got comfortable with a beer and wine at the Losserand Café. If I stayed permanently in this area this could easily have become my local. No pretences, no airs and graces, just a good old pub with friendly locals.

 

 

 

 

 

It was time to eat and we had noticed Restaurant Sibel – a Turkish diner – just up the road. And of course Sibel did not disappoint. I had the kebab plate and Adri a plate of some other name. Mine was great, Adri’s was even better.

 

 

 

 

 

After we had our fill of drink and food we were ready to watch something on Netflix. Having been exposed to so much wine with Dries and Estee during the previous week, our interest in wine was at an all-time high and thus selected a documentary called Somm, which is short for sommelier. The documentary is described by IMDb as “Four sommeliers attempt to pass the prestigious Master Sommelier exam, a test with one of the lowest pass rates in the world.” We found this to be a rather enjoyable experience, and especially so with a glass of wine in hand.

Now you may remember that we originally planned to spend a full month in Paris but when the opportunity to look after an apartment in Amsterdam came our way we changed our plans to incorporate that. But, while we were searching for a Paris apartment, Philippe an old friend from Paris, sent me an excellent synopsis of the different districts, or arrondissements of Paris to assist in my search. I have included it below, I am sure you will find it as helpful as I did next time you search for accommodation in Paris.

“As you know Paris is divided into 20 districts (arrondissements in French) and each one has its specificities. The most central districts (1st to 7th) are interesting because they are in connection with many metro and bus lines and they are the place of many monuments, museums and restaurants. But because of all these advantages they are quite expensive. The 8th, 16th and 17th districts, in the west part of Paris are the place for some luxurious flats but I won’t look there for a one month stay. The 9th district is also quite expensive and there isn’t much to see except the Opera. The 10th, 11th and 19th districts can be interesting for you. They used to be old blocks of flats but much has been renovated. Many young middle class couples like to live there. The part of the 20th district which is close to the 11th is quite similar but the more you go towards the limits of Paris the less interesting it is. The 12th district  has nice blocks of flats from the 19th century but there isn’t much to visit. The 13th district speciality is that it concentrates most of the Asiatic population of Paris. If you long for a Thai restaurant you will certainly find one there. The 14th district is the one where I live. So it could be nice to be close to each other. But I don’t consider it as a very touristic destination. The 15th district is neither very attractive. Traditionally, it is a district where families can find large flats at affordable price. The 18th district hosts the Sacré-Coeur and the famous Montmartre area on its south-west part. But other parts of this district are more to be avoided because they are the place of some illegal trafficking.”

I trust you will find this description as useful as I did… thank you Philippe.

Saturday it was almost cold when we left the hotel to amble across to the Eiffel Tower a few kilometres away. We took a slow stroll there along a roundabout route, marvelling at the wonderful architecture of the buildings all around. We passed by the Cimetière du Montparnasse, the Montparnasse train station, passed within sight of the Musée de l’Armée (The Army Museum) and in a roundabout way finally arrived at the Champ de Mars, a large park-like area where the Eiffel Tower in situated.

 

 

 

The Eiffel Tower is always an impressive sight even if seen from far away and for the umpteenth time, but seeing it up this close is just awe inspiring, an engineering masterpiece. The first time I was in Paris back in 1995 Philippe took me up the tower and what an amazing experience that was. The last time Adri and I were here back in 2003 we did not have the time to go up the tower although we did stroll around the area, but today would be different.

Adri decided that we needed the exercise and climb the almost 700 steps to the second floor – rather than take the elevator – from where one could take the elevator to the final and third floor right at the top. We were to find out later, having arrived at the second floor that one cannot purchase tickets there; you have to buy it at ground level. Be as it may, Adri was at that stage not keen to go any higher, the second floor was high enough for her nerves already.

 

 

The queues to go up were as breathtaking as the tower itself, stretching way beyond the point of reasonableness. We fell into the first queue we found, just for the sake of getting into a queue. We subsequently realized that the “exercise queue” only departs from the south pillar, which is not where our queue was heading. We skulked over to the correct queue which happened to be twice as long.

 

 

 

 

It was around 15:00 when I calculated that, at our current speed, or lack thereof, we would be at the ticket office close to 17:00. That queue snailed along and standing around doing nothing is not what I was built or born for. My legs felt like they were protruding through my heels and burrowing itself into the tarmac below. It was 16:52 that we were the proud owners of exercise tickets.

We climbed and we climbed and, truth be told, it was really not that much of an effort. On the first floor there is a restaurant selling takeaway type food but we declined the offer. We did however watch a short movie on the construction of the Eiffel and also one on light and fireworks displays that have taken place there, rather impressive.

 

 

We arrived at the second floor and the place was packed with tourists. Not easy to navigate around the perimeter with everyone taking pictures and selfies and action shots, it was bedlam. The second floor has two levels and both were filled to capacity. There is also a takeaway type joint where you can have something to eat or drink; there is also a high-end restaurant up there somewhere where you can have something to eat or drink, just add two zeros to the bill. The views of Paris from up there are simply stunning and one gets a good orientation of the city, being able to spot all the sites we still needed to visit.

It is here that we saw people queuing to take the lift to the third floor. I looked around to purchase tickets but to no avail, we had to do that at ground level. The cloud cover by now was thick and grey with rainy drops falling down from time to time. An icy wind had picked up speed and at this elevation, and not being dressed for the occasion, I suspect it was a blessing in disguise that we could not proceed any higher.

It was around 19:00 and after we had descended down the 700 steps that we needed a rest somewhere along the Champ du Mars. People were everywhere mostly having picnics and fun. And if you did not bring a picnic along, there were ingenious entrepreneurs walking around with picnics in their shopping bags, selling beers and bottles of red and white wine. This was obviously done illegally, and I guessed that if stopped by the police their defence would be that the contents of those shopping bags were for their own consumption, “Honestly sir!”

We arrived home with sore feet and thoroughly tired after having stopped off at Carrefour City for something for supper as well as a large Heineken. It was 21:00 when I watched the by now non-live version of the SA/Argentine rugby test of this afternoon. And although SA won by a fair margin, personally I don’t think they were very convincing.

There was a follow-up to Somm called Somm: Into The Bottle which we watched tonight and is described by IMDb as “The history, politics, pleasure, and BS of wine told through opening ten very different bottles.” These guys really do appreciate their wine and surprisingly they are not snobbish as many wine specialists tend to be. I loved their exhaustive vocabulary of describing the taste and smell of the wines. One could almost taste those strains of blueberry intertwined with green grass, crushed granite, tar and cigar ash and the like! If you have even only a passing acquaintance with wine I am sure you will thoroughly enjoy Somm and Somm: Into the Bottle.

Sundays breakfast is served until 11:00 so the two walking wounded crept down the stairs at 10:00 for another good one, still without bacon, eggs and sausages though.

After breakfast I did a bit of work while Adri went to walk amongst the dead in the Cimetière du Montparnasse (Montparnasse Cemetery). Back from the dead – apparently it was very peaceful there – Adri’s feet were itching for more punishment, this time to the Notre Dame.

We walked though the same peaceful cemetery she had just come from, through the beautiful Le Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens), through the Latin Quarter with its lovely festive albeit touristy restaurants, across the southern Seine to Ile de la Cité where the Cathédrale Notre-Dame is situated. But, our first stop was at the Queen Elizabeth II flower market that features all kinds of beautiful birds – the feathered kind – and a few impressive stores with flowers and such.

 

 

 

We reached the Cathédrale Notre-Dame a short way away and found that the place was cordoned off and teaming with police. With all the terrorist attacks in Spain and elsewhere during the last week I must admit to have thought the worst. But, there was no need to panic, they were merely readying the place for some dignitary that was scheduled to attend Mass later on.

We walked around the barriers and entered and marvelled at this masterpiece. Organ music was playing in the background but then, all of a sudden it surged forward and filled the place,  it felt like the lead glass windows were going to pop their lead. Beautiful! The music returned to normal volume when beautifully bright voices filled the cathedral.

 

Adri decided it was time to sit down to contemplate and listen to the music. I begrudgingly followed her down the aisle and sat down beside her at a pew of her choice. The music and voices flowed and ebbed, it was wonderful.

And then everything went quiet, a security guard ushered people out of the way that were dawdling in the aisle after which a number of dignitaries passed by and took up seats way ahead of us in the expensive seats.

And then Mass started, we were not exactly expecting this. Next to me was a man of the cloth, dressed in jeans with white shirt with white Clerical Collar, he had an amazing voice. A procession of church leaders and elders passed by and took up position in the front… the sermon started, all in French of course. I could however make out a few words here and there but also heard “terroriste” and “Espanol”, it was obviously a Mass in remembrance of the people who had died in the terror attacks in Spain this last week. If you ever get the chance, do yourself a favour and attend Mass at the Notre Dame, whether you are religious or not, it is a religious experience.

Outside there were TV camera crews interviewing people and of course the lady with the microphone zoomed in on Adri for an interview. With a deft “Anglais!” shot across towards the reporter she dashed off to her next victim who was fortunately Français. Adri nearly had her 15 minutes of fame, or maybe 15 minutes of infamy?

 

 

 

 

From there we crossed the Seine and entered the Latin Quarter which, as mentioned earlier, is very touristy and could be tacky to some tastes. Even so, it is a glorious selection of restaurants crammed in side by side stretching for a few city blocks. Even though it was getting late we were not particularly hungry so we gave it a miss, but will surely be back there sometime.

We found a Franprix supermarket open at 21:00 on a Sunday which is outside of the norm. We bought foodstuffs and of course beer and the only cold one in that fridge was a Leffe Ruby. I’ve had Leffe Blondes and Brunes, but this Ruby was far too sweet and fruity. Now I’ve always loved my blondes and brunettes, never was a fan of the redheads, and that seems to hold true for my taste in beers as well.

 

 

 

Monday we took the metro to the Sacré-Cœur Basilica and disembarked at the Anvers station from where we planned on taking the funicalaire up to the basilica. The funicalaire did not reveal itself to us immediately but the steps did, and they did not intimidate, we decided to do the steps. Having reached the top I did not see the need for a funicalaire, it really is not a traumatic climb.

We strolled around this impressive basilica and then ventured around the little cobbled streets of Montmartre which is lined with restaurants and artists. Some artists walk around looking for business drawing tourist’s portraits. One such artist, wanting to draw Adri and her attention, kept on complimenting her with “You have a beautiful haircut”. Not sure whether this was an attempt at procuring business or whether it was meant as a pickup line, or whether something got lost in translation, but either way it did not work.

 

 

I must admit to being a bit miffed with the little artists’ square. When we were there last in 2003 there were restaurants around the perimeter of the square with all the artists having free reign of the square under those lovely old trees. Now, those same restaurants have spilled out onto the square with the artists at its perimeter, what a turn of events, and so unnecessary. The bigger business always seems to win… pity.

As we walked around that perimeter I was looking out for my artist, the old man that was old back in 1999 when I bought my painting from him, a scene down the Champs-Élysées towards the Arc de Triomphe with the Cafe George V in the foreground, done in wonderful gray and white and pink wintry colours. The price was reasonable and I was not intending to negotiate but when I opened my wallet I realised I had less in there than the asking price. The old man looked at my wallet, then at his watch, it was midday, it was lunch, and with that realisation he said in his best English “Eesh posseeble!”, took the money, rolled up my canvas and the deal was done.

When Adri and I were here in 2003 the old man was still here, painting in the same style, I immediately recognised him by his paintings. He had grown even older, the beard was longer and greyer, he was more crouched over, but he was still painting. Sadly, today he was not there, sadly, I think he is not with us anymore… bless his soul.

We decided to have drinks at the same restaurant that Philippe and I had a drink back in 1995 when he brought me here for my first taste of Montmartre. I opted for a beer, Adri for a rosè and with that settled, we people-watched for, oh, a very long time. We could have sat there and drank the place dry but Adri wanted to move on, that wine was making her sleepy.

 

 

 

 

Back at home I started working and Adri… well Adri just slept, she was bushed and so was I. It’s not that we did such a lot today, it’s just that we have walked so many kilometres over the last few days and now, sore feet, sore legs and sore brains had finally caught up with us.

Tuesday was a beautiful day out, blue skies and the weather very comfortable indeed. But, unfortunately I had to stay in while Adri went for a walk, I had to catch up and publish the latest blog which was finally accomplished mid-afternoon.

Philippe – whom I have known nigh on 30 years – was finally back from holiday and tonight we had arranged to have supper. I remember Philippe being introduced to a group of us back in the 80s, while having a braai, by my cousin Jabez with “This is monsieur Philippe”. Sakkie of course chimed in with “Ag nee man, jy’s nou in Suid Afrika, hier noem ons jou sommer Flippie” (No no no, you are now in South Africa, here we’ll call you Flippie).

And of course the name stuck and Flippie became part of the group of friends during the next 18 months that he spent working for a French company in South Africa. We stayed in separate garden cottages on a large estate and when I moved into a house, Philippe moved in with me for the remainder of his stay. What great times we had!

As we approached the L’Entrepot Restaurant, from 100 metres away, I recognised Philippe waiting for us at the entrance, he had changed not one bit, would have recognised him from 200 metres. It was a heartfelt reunion; we have not seen each other in many years… far too many years.

The weather was magnificent; it felt like the early onset of autumn was in the air, so we were seated outside under some lovely old trees. While ordering wine and supper the conversation flowed from here to there and back, the years melted away within minutes, it suddenly felt as if we had seen each other just last week. The supper was superb, the company was superb, the wine was superb… Did I just say the wine was superb…?

Now one reads in the Bible that water was changed into wine, I always did like that story. But, tonight Adri managed to go the other way and turned wine into water. Wanting to top up our glasses with wine, she mistakenly took the green bottle containing the water, and proceeded to top us up. Truth be told, the two bottles did look exactly the same. Not much harm done though with only a few nearly empty glasses affected… the rest of the wine was exceptional. Anyways, now we know what Dries and Estee’s wine tastes like after their ice had melted.

Wednesday, although we’ve been to the Louvre Museum on previous visits to Paris we had never been inside, there was never enough time. But, this time it was different, we had all the time in the world, or so we thought.

We got off the metro prematurely at the Concorde station as we wanted to walk through the beautiful Jardin des Tuileries (Tuileries Garden) that leads up to the Louvre. It was late morning and people were sitting all around reading or chatting, wonderfully rustic. We passed by the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel (Carrousel Arc de Triomphe), a small version of the real Arc de Triomphe some 3km away.

 

 

 

 

 

We got into the queue that was snaking along for seemingly an eternity but fortunately we moved up the queue rather quickly. Thirty minutes later we were through the security checkpoint and into the museum proper where we could purchase our tickets.

This museum is vast, it really is, one could easily spend days wandering amongst all those beautiful works of art. There are Near Eastern, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Italic and Etruscan Antiquities, there are Islamic Art and sculptures from France and the rest of Europe, there are paintings from France, Northern Europe, Italy, Spain… the list goes on. All these treasures are displayed in vast rooms, one leading into the next, contained in a building with two wings on five floors. It is massive… it is impressive.

There is no way one can cover all this in one day so we elected to concentrate on paintings and sculptures and specifically we had to at least see, of course, the iconic Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci, Venus de Milo sculpted by Alexandros of Antioch, the Winged Victory of Samothrace and Michelangelo’s Dying Slave. We saw these and a zillion others, there is just too much to take in, one’s senses are quickly overloaded with all these magnificent pieces.

Next time we go to the Louvre we will be much wiser. There is so much information available on the internet one can plan a full day’s agenda ahead of time which is what we would do. We would also plan to get there earlier in the day and also go on a Wednesday or Friday when the museum stays open until 21:45. Even though we did go on a Wednesday our feet felt like it was doomsday and thus we left late afternoon without making use of the extended hours. To circumvent sore feet next time we would take frequent sit-down breaks during the day and have a long lunch, either at the restaurant or bring a baguette or such along. One has to take it easy, take it slow. We did not rent audio guides as we did not have enough time to put them to proper use. Next time we would definitely rent audio guides to help us through this maze of greatness. And yes, there will be a next time.

We were dog tired; we needed to rest our feet and brains. On the way back to the Concorde metro station we again walked through the Jardin des Tuileries and found a few chairs unoccupied. We had ourselves a blissful rest there before heading home.

 

 

 

 

 

Our first destination on Thursday was the Pompidou Centre, which houses the Bibliothèque publique d’information, the Musée National d’Art Moderne, the largest museum for modern art in Europe, and a centre for music and acoustic research. We entered the centre but did not go to any of the museums, we were all museum’ed out after our visit to the Louvre yesterday. But what we did find was one of the loveliest areas of Paris with plentiful restaurants, antique shops and clothing shops, a bit of all and everything. Next time I would definitely spend more time wearing out my shoes in this area.

The Place Georges Pompidou in front of the museum is noted for its street performers and artists, but Adri needed it for a rest like so many others. This of course only took place after we bought a Coke and an ice cream for her, and a Heineken for him. We took up position behind somebody that seemed to be doodling on his paper notepad. Soon enough this doodle became more intense and by the time we left one could see something going on in there.

Adri asked him about the drawing and he started explaining what he had already drawn on that page, what was still missing, and what the meaning of it all was. What a delightful chap he turned out to be. He goes by the artistic name of Mizu, please check him out on his Facebook page.

After wishing Mizu all the luck he can handle, we ambled on towards the Champs-Élysées a few kilometres away. We strolled through Le Palais Royal and then down Rue Saint Honoré with its high-end clothes shops, past the Place de la Concorde and eventually onto and up the Champs-Élysées.

 

I had one stop to make on the Champs-Élysées, as I did on a previous visit; I simply had to have a drink at the Cafe George V. Yes, that’s the one featured on my Arc de Triomphe painting I bought many years ago at Montmartre which I mentioned earlier. We took up our table and chairs on the sidewalk and the waiter made a big fuss that we should not move the chairs even one centimetre – space was limited – even though there was no one sitting next to us. I let it go.

Before we could ask for the drinks menu he rambled off a hard sell of their “special” cocktail of the day. He looked miffed when we did not entertain his suggestion and asked for the drinks menu. Adri ordered a glass of rosè but of course he had a better suggestion, a glass of their house rosè at a special price. When queried about the price he had no clue, turns out it was about three times the price. We settled on the original rosè.

I ordered a beer; I could choose between the 250ml (small), 350ml (medium) or 500ml (large). The waiter asked whether I wanted the medium or large and I responded with “small” and for good measure threw in “une petit” as well. Adri finally got what she ordered, I did not, I received the medium size.

I was pissed off, not because of the big beer, but the fact that this arsehole was taking advantage of us and everyone he was serving. This was the first real tourist trap we had walked into but of course we walked into it with our eyes wide open. I unfortunately have an attachment to this place through that painting of mine but if you don’t have such attachments I suggest you give this place a wide berth. It truly is a blatant tourist rip-off, there should be a law against such places.

One table up from us two guys ordered iced coffee after the same waiter tried his hard sell of cocktails on them. When the iced coffee was delivered the waiter accidentally knocked over another drink on his tray which sent the contents flying over these gentlemen’s table. Without an apology or an attempt to clean it up he disappeared. The two gentlemen looked at their drinks, discussed it, each took a sip, they looked at each other, looked at the bill, and nodded. Now either those iced coffees were really bad or they also received upped sizes, but they upped and left without even a cursory glance back. I wished I could do the same.

 

 

After our tourist trap experience we sauntered off up the road to the Arc de Triomphe a short way away. Passing under the road around the arc we emerged right next to the Arc de Triomphe, always a wonderful sight to see. The names of fallen soldiers are etched into the monument and we looked for Joubert, we found two… it wasn’t me.

A parade of some sort was taking place while we were searching, the military band piped up with the soldiers and dignitaries singing the National Anthem with gusto. It was a rather special event to witness.

As the music stopped I looked at my watch, I started pushing Adri towards the underground walkway, we were running late for our last supper with Philippe. We got to the Le Laurier Restaurant 10 minutes late and delved into some good wine and good beer and good food with a good friend. Far too quickly the night came to an end; we had to be up at 05:00 in the morning if we were ever going to make it to Amsterdam. We said our sad goodbyes but I was certain our parting would not be for long.

 

 

 

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