When Camille and I arrived in Paris, my friend Sylvie met us at the airport. She drove us to our hotel which took a solid two hours, in traffic. She is a true friend. Our flight from LA had been delayed so we arrived at rush hour. It was also the evening of the Fête de Musique - a huge music festival - so there were people everywhere. Sylvie had packed an overnight bag but unfortunately there were no hotel rooms to be found that night for her due to the festival. But she did spend the evening with us. We spread maps and her guide books out and plotted our plan of attack. Our hotel was close to Montmartre so I told her Camille and I would make our way there the following day. For our first day in Paris, the three of us walked down to the corner Tabac shop and bought a pack of Metro tickets. Then we rode the Metro to the Eiffel Tower and the Champs d'Elysees. After Sylvie left, Camille and I collapsed in our room. Camille wanted to know why there was a WalMart in Paris and why we were going to visit there. It took me a few minutes to figure out that when Sylvie and I were discussing Montmartre, Camille thought we were saying WalMart. They do rhyme. Kind of.
We woke to rain the following morning. We were up early due to the time change and after breakfast made our way to the cemetery at Montmartre. We arrived at the gates at 8:00 am, and wandered the aisles in the rain. There weren't any other people there, it was gloomy, and we ducked under the many trees lining the pathways in a futile attempt to stay dry. We never did find the graves of Degas, Sartre or the many other famous people interned there. But we did see a lot of very old gravestones, some beautiful statues, and cats.
It was a fascinating place and we would have stayed even longer, but after a couple hours of walking, we were drenched. I didn't have my umbrella and our hoodie sweatshirts were soaked. Despite the weather, it was easily my favorite place in Paris. Of course, there is something very apropos about walking through a cemetery in the rain.
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
It's All About The Food
My love affair with France is also a love affair with food. When I think of France, I think about flakey buttery croissants, lightly salted butter made in Normandy or Brittany, crusty baguettes of bread eaten at every meal but especially for breakfast with butter and jam, strong coffee - served in a bowl for breakfast and in small espresso cups the rest of the day, plump sweet mussels, sweet and meaty artichokes from Brittany, muscadet wine with the mussels, wines with a smooth finish and an alcohol level lower than at home so I can drink more... you get the idea.
But the best eating was in Paimpol where my friend Sylvie has a little stone farm house. Camille ate mussels and fries (moules et frites) for lunch three days in a row. For dinner, we ate simply in the farm house: pasta with arugula, artichokes, fruit, and the piece de resistance: crab that we chose down at the port.
Me and French food -- we met when I was 19 and we're going on more than 30 years now. Fortunately, Brett loves it as much as I do since it is what I cook the most. I can find many French ingredients here now -- butter, for instance -- but no camembert or Bretan artichokes or mussels as plump and sweet. I thought about trying to bring some cheese back with me but I figured I'd stink up the plane and the airport dogs would be all over me. ...seriously tempted, though.
We ordered La Crepe Supercaramel |
It did not disappoint us. Camille said the crêpes in France were "lame." Sylvie proved her wrong. |
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On the Champs d'Elysees in Paris: Three bowls of ice cream, three cafés - $75 USD. Ouch! |
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After lunch café in the Latin Quarter of Paris. ...looked for Hemmingway, didn't see him... |
Dinner at a bistro close to our hotel: duck, frites, beans and a dab of house made mustard. |
But the best eating was in Paimpol where my friend Sylvie has a little stone farm house. Camille ate mussels and fries (moules et frites) for lunch three days in a row. For dinner, we ate simply in the farm house: pasta with arugula, artichokes, fruit, and the piece de resistance: crab that we chose down at the port.
We always started dinner with pain, saucisson and a glass of wine. |
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Pools of crab and lobster at the port to choose from. |
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Camille said it would be too sad to eat this one. I had to agree |
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We took this one instead. |
Sylvie boiled him in her big crab pot and then put him outside to cool. |
She started cracking the claws with a mallet... but the mallet broke... |
We had veggies finished off in a bit of cream after the crab. |
And then I had to have my fromage fix. Camembert, REAL camembert, made with raw milk in Normandy. Stinky, smooth... the best! And impossible to get at home. |
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I'll Be Back
My suitcase is packed and I'm ready to go. I cleaned stalls, put wine in the pantry for Brett, wrote out goat feeding instructions, made oatmeal raisin cookies for Brett, and tried to get everything set up for him. Two weeks isn't an eternity but it feels that way. We haven't spent more than four days apart in the last -almost 15 years.
My blog will be dark for two weeks and then I'll be back with pictures and stories. Tomorrow morning I will try fit in a short ride on Jackson before we head to the airport. What am I looking forward to the most? The coffee and croissants. Breakfast in France is the BEST.
à bientot -
My blog will be dark for two weeks and then I'll be back with pictures and stories. Tomorrow morning I will try fit in a short ride on Jackson before we head to the airport. What am I looking forward to the most? The coffee and croissants. Breakfast in France is the BEST.
à bientot -
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