30 Dec - Coffee and a Croissant

Posted on December 30, 2008

I awoke late this morning and lounged around a bit. I think people come on a vacation and have a mad rush to get out and do everything possible in a two week period, and while I was definitely like that the first days I was here, I have settled into a general happiness of just being here and seeing what I want to see. I have a feeling if I can ever come back, I will. So I’m just trying to enjoy myself and not burn out. So far, so good.

I also know I write a lot about my little cafe dining experiences, but that’s because they’re kind of a big deal to me. I know most people when they travel just go, stumble through the menu, order, get what they want, pay and go. And that’s ok. They get food, the establishment gets paid, everyone’s happy. But I want something more than that…I guess I kind of want to experience that almost normal daily life interaction. I’m not sure I can explain better than that. It’s like I just want to be a part of it, normal life here.

I picked a larger, nice corner cafe I saw when I was out yesterday and just headed in. It was raining off and on and had snowed during the night, leaving an icy wetness everywhere, but no pretty snow. I walked in and waited for the waiter to greet me. I could’ve greeted him first I suppose, but it went ok. It went something like this:

Waiter: Bonjour, monsieur!
Moi: Bonjour!
I proceed to the bar and sit down. Most bars in cafes, and brasseries are coffee in the morning, alcohol and coffee the rest of the day.
Waiter: Oui?
Moi: Cafe, s’il vous plait.
Waiter: Ah, cafe. Oui.
He makes me a tiny espresso, not coffee in a cup, a sign that he did not assume me to be American, and I sounded something like I knew what I was doing. lol Otherwise, they give you a coffee cup and ask if you want milk, etc. Cafe typically gets you espresso. If you’re ordering properly, you must specify Cafe Americain, Cafe au lait, Cafe Noire, Cafe Blanc, etc. The espresso comes with sugar cubes and a chocolate covered almond.
Waiter: Cafe, voila!
Moi: Merci.
I sip the delicious espresso and start to eye the croissants in a bread dish on the bar. Typically at the bar they are complimentary with your coffee, but I don’t want to be forward and I would like a plate. So I ask if it’s ok to have one. Better safe than sorry.
Moi: Je peu? (as I point gently toward them. This is pretty informal, and literally means I can? or May I?
Waiter: Mais oui, c’est bien! (But yes, that’s fine!) And he retrieves me a plate and napkin.

Getting the check is always a challenge as I mentioned before. But I’ve noticed if it’s just you and you’re at the bar, the trick is to start to get up to leave…not as if you’re rushing out the door, but place the napkin on the plate, move it slightly away from you and prepare your things. In this case, the waiter saw and approached me when he got a sec. I took my time, and did not rush him.

Waiter: Finis, monsieur?
Moi: Oui, c’etait bien, merci. (Yes, everything was good, thank you.)
Waiter: Merci! Voila! He places the check on a small plate.

It’s 3.20, so I leave him 10.20. I’ve also found dealing with small change is a pain for most so it’s easier to give it to them if you have it. He brings me the 7 he owes me and I leave him 1, a fair tip for 3.20.

Waiter: Merci, Au revoir!
Moi: Au revoir!

…and I walk out into the chilly morning. I know I wrote a lot for that simple interaction but if you’ve never been and you’re planning to go, I hope it helps you. You can always stumble through it (and making any small effort will likely lead to people being helpful to you) but wouldn’t it be nicer to just ease right through your morning coffee and croissant?

After breakfast I headed for the Musee d’Orsay, which I was told was absolutely worth seeing. I’ll go ahead and respond to that and say YES. SEE IT. I think I had this notion of what I would see at the Louvre, and while the Louvre itself is almost living art, with every cornice, corner, surface and window a work of art itself, a lot of what I expected to see there wasn’t there at all, it was at Orsay.

It was cold and rainy and with it being a holiday week between Christmas and New Years the line to get in was something short of enormous. It stretched in a serpentine queue back and forth over the entry steps, then wrapped around a few times in front of the lower steps before heading out to the street and wrapping around the back of the next building over. This was almost daunting considering the lower 30s temperature and the on again off again rain but I just couldn’t be unhappy. Freezing and a little damp, yes, but not unhappy. I was after all standing on the streets of Paris. Keep in mind though, that many museums close around 5 or 6 on some days, so if it’s noon and you have a two hour wait, you may want to get a reserved ticket for another day. I did spend about two hours waiting in rain and some occasional sleet, as well as being banged around by various umbrellas but it was absolutely worth it.

The building inside is far less ornate than the Louvre, almost utilitarian, despite the artwork, sculptures and library. But oh the art! Walls of Monet, Manet, Degas, Picasso, Gauguin, Pissaro, Latrec. Sculptures by Rodin. Whole rooms of paintings I had never known existed but by artists whose names I knew quite well. I was quite taken by one special exhibit of Picasso and Manet where Picasso had been to an exhibit by Manet and seen a painting of people having a picnic. It was titled “Le Dejuener sur l’herbe” (Luncheon on the Grass). He became something like obsessed with the painting and over ten years or so painted a plethora of interpretations of it. He wrote on the back on an envelope about having seen it and they actually had the envelope posted there in the exhibit, along with the variations he painted and sketched, as well as some pastels he had done. The original painting by Manet was there as well and the entire exhibit was extraordinary. There were paper cutouts he’s done of the people in the painting and a photo of him with them. I think the most interesting piece for me though was a sketchbook where he had sketched a copy of the original painting apparently to work from. I think we all have some idea of what a “Picasso” looks like so it never occurred to me that the man would create anything else in any other style. I had only seen his cubist and surrealist works, aside from one more realistic painting so I was so taken aback when I saw that the sketch in the book, in pencil or charcoal was almost identical to the original painting except in monotone. It had fine detail and perfect perspective and was an excellent representation of the original he must’ve seen the very day he redrew it.

I learned later in the day that he had done mask sculptures as well as a whole body of work that I had never been exposed to.

Overall, the Musee d’Orsay was worth its weight in gold. If you’re going to Paris and like impressionist art, it is an absolute must. You’ll even get to see Whistler’s Mother.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and I plan to be at the Eiffel Tower if possible, with a bottle of champagne and 20 or 30,000 people. I can’t wait. This year some friends are having a small party back home as well, and I’m actually going to miss it. I think they’ll cut me some slack for my absence, though, just this once.

London Calling

Posted on December 26, 2008

I’m taking a short detour over to see the Queen for the weekend but we should be back to our regularly scheduled programming on Monday. Until then, you can follow my adventures being hunted by MI6 here.

Until then, adieu!

And MI6, if you’re reading this…I promise I’m not really doing anything with the Queen. God save her.

Noel a Notre Dame de Paris

Posted on December 25, 2008

I awoke this morning with a kind of childlike glee at the idea of Christmas in Paris. I had no agenda, no planned excursion and no schedule to keep. I didn’t have to hurry and rush to this house or that, or follow any custom whatsoever. I love Christmas and all those things that go with it but for once, I was free to enjoy it any way I chose.

The day started off quite nicely, the way Christmas should. I’ve been constantly pleased by the effort and friendliness of everyone here so far and today was no exception. I was getting a late start when the maid came to clean my room. I told her it was fine to come in and take care of things as I was getting ready to leave. I hate to make them wait since they do have a schedule to keep and after all, it’s Christmas and they likely have things to do as well. It’s business practice at all Westins for the staff to say hello to you whenever you cross paths. It goes for every housekeeper, manager and maintenance person, regardless, and it’s really nice. I always say hello back to them as nicely as possible, since they’re making the effort. As I left I wished her a Merry Christmas, a Joyeux Noel in French and was surprised to see she was a little taken aback. She smiled and actually laughed a tiny bit, almost bashfully and wished me one as well, and thanked me. My pronunciation sucked a little but the point was there and it just made me feel good. At breakfast I wished my waiter the same (with better pronunciation) and he smiled genuinely and did the same. He’d waited on me before and remembered that I liked a little bit of milk in the coffee and offered it as I sat, then later when I declined another cup but was there for a little while, he laughed and made me take another one. He was right…it was perfect since the last quarter had grown cold. It seems like a simple interaction but I don’t take it for granted at all, especially since all our conversation was in French. Lots of people can talk, communication is something else I think.

With a belly full of scrambled eggs, coffee, a croissant and grapefruit juice along with a little fresh fruit to go with it, I decided to head out to Notre Dame. I had never been but saw it from the Tower and from the Seine River cruise. everyone says it’s magnificent and really, no one lied about that. I mistook Champs de Notre Dame for the Cathedral on the Metro map and went the wrong way, but it was easily rectified…and I got to use my metro pass to let an older woman into the station after the machine ate her money. She thanked me really kindly and my good day continued, despite being on the wrong side of town from where I wanted to be. Once more with my Golden Ticket and I was at the right station.

This is the bluest day I can recall since being a child in Maryland, when the cold night winds would blow snow drifts up to the 2nd story sills and leave everything crisp and perfect for the first morning light. There’s really no word for that color of blue but I understand what they mean by Sous la Ciel de Paris…Under the Paris Sky. It’s Christmas and the whole world seems like it’s waiting for me.

The Metro again. It’s all but empty save for a few people on their way to work or church and a man playing the accordion. I board again and head back in teh right direction. I’m in Paris on Christmas, heading to Notre Dame to attend Mass and hear the nativity. For a moment I stop and have that revelation that I’ve been doing it so wrong for so many years and I feel conflicted - sad for all those years I rushed around, insanely trying to get to this place or that, to please everyone on Christmas morn - happy just to be here now and know the difference…ecstatic to be alive. Walking into the cathedral, I vow that if I ever have children they will see this place if it still exists. They will have a chance to feel this and know what it’s like to stand inside history.For the first time I realize how fortunate I am, that despite some really trying times and hard things I’ve endured, I’m as blessed as a heathen can be.

If the laws of the universe hold true and all things in nature struggle toward balance, Notre Dame is the model for the equation. From the iced island air of the Idle de Paris with that perfect blue light of the cerulean sky above I walk into shadow and warmth, a stillness that almost stifles. Cold, odorless and erratic winds are replaced by thick, still incense transported on the murmurs of the faithful like some heavy blanket held above them and all around the intense light of the winter day is filtered through giant stained glass images of history. A plaque on the wall dedicates the building in 1163 AD. I do the math and realize this place stood 329 years before Columbus set foot on the new continent and for a moment I’m caught up in it all, time, war, peace, the chanting of the people in pews and the echoing voice of the priest in the Gothic arches above, history and the future, perception and perspective. Minutes pass before I realize I’ve been silently standing there smiling and crying.

I finish watching the Mass and decide to move around the back and see the rest. Silently scattered about the path patrons sit reverently in prayer among the almost too noisy chatter of tourists eagerly snapping photos and pointing and I actually curb the urge to shush them, even if gently. It’s strong but I’m just happy and at peace and can’t be bothered by them. Stained glass windows make patterns in kaleidoscope light on everything as the sun moves across the sky and I make my way ’round the perimeter, and all around I’m surrounded by the sounds of the Nativity, spoken reverently in French and carried across 845 year old walls by physics and Dolby Theatre Sound. That’s Paris as much as anyplace here: a harmony of the old and the new, LCD TV’s and stage lighting on 800 year old stone. Ritual illuminated in Technicolor.

I walk through that time portal once more, stepping into the present and the clarity of winter and can’t help but wonder if others felt the same. I hope so; while it’s certainly not wasted if it was on me alone, it’s not something I would want all to myself. Sitting on a bench, watching people come and go I wonder about this and a lot of things I thought I understood and I can’t help but think maybe far too many of us are in a mad rush toward the next thing we’ll use as a starting point for another mad rush, or worse, toward nothing at all. I smile and decide to just enjoy the rest of the day. You never really know about tomorrow.

I walk around the cathedral, taking photos and watching people. Not one argument, not one person yelling at another. No mothers scolding impudent little boys, no fathers with threatening looks for the mischievous. Just people standing, talking quietly and smiling in the cold morning light. On a bridge over the Seine a young woman asks me to take her photo with her camera, to get some of the city in it. I zoom wide and capture the Eiffel Tower behind her, the river below and she squeals when she sees it. It’s the best compliment a stranger can give me without knowing it. I found a bench on the bridge and just sat there and just enjoyed it all and thought some more about everything. I think my whole perception changed on that bench that morning. I would later realize that if Christmas was to be the day my perceptions would be challenged, New Years would be here soon enough to challenge my strength and the courage of my convictions. This would all become a positive turning point in my life.

The rest of the say was simple and beautiful. In front of a government building people ice skated in a makeshift rink, swooshing by, laughing and falling and just enjoying themselves. I took pictures of empty streets and paths, walked and watched. I just let the day be and didn’t force it. When I finally got back to the hotel I needed to pack and get ready for London the next day. I had dinner in the room and processed photos, wrote and talked with friends back home.

I spent Christmas very much the way I had wanted.

24 Christmas Eve on the Champs-Elysee

Posted on December 24, 2008

I slept through breakfast but awoke to random music in the streets from a 3 piece band who’d decided to roam and play. I can’t recall the song now, and they really weren’t very good but there’s something to be said for waking to a brass band. lol It beats the alarm clock for sure. A first glance out the sheers to the buildings and sky beyond revealed an absolutely perfect winter day, with a crisp blue in the sky over the rooftops and a promise of crisp air.  I opened the doors to the balcony to confirm the suspicion (and to watch the band for a moment or two) and was greeted by the expected breeze. Unexpected was the scent of fresh baked bread and other morning aromas that reminded me of my lapse in judgement with dinner the night before. Though there are a nearly countless number of restaurants here, I really prefer the small cafes. I was just tired and unsure of what I wanted other than a bed.

I had no agenda for the day other than food. Breakfast has become such an important part of my day. The meal fuels me for the miles and miles I walk and the coffee keeps me warm and happy. I found a small cafe on the corner and walked in. I greeted the waiter in return to his bonjour and asked if it was ok to sit at a table. He let me choose (I chose a small table, and always do when dining alone if one is available. This is polite and allows the waiter to serve larger parties easily. It seems obvious but the gesture goes a long way here.) I think this was the first time I actually felt comfortable communicating. He asked if I wanted coffee or tea and I asked for cappuccino, which they make so well. Somehow it’s strong but without being burnt or overly acidic. He brought me a croissant and a mixed fruit jelly that I thought would be enough, but it made me hungry so when he started to take the menu away I asked if I could keep it and order. I got a standard ham and cheese omelet (usually referred to as “mixte“) and it really hit the spot.

Things got a little complicated after this but it turned out all right. One thing I think visitors often feel slighted about here is the lack of attention from the waiter once the meal is done. This goes back to my theory that Parisians are exceptionally polite when in the right situation. The waiter does not want to bother you, make small talk (unless you’re acquainted, and can easily make clear small talk in French) or harass you. And seriously, since English is most often the second language, I don’t think he wants to feel stupid trying to understand chit chat anymore than you do. Plus, he can chitchat at 4,000 mph. That’s 6,437 kph. He wins. So you have to politely ask for your check…which at a restaurant is l’addition, and most other places, like the hotel is la note. So I asked, he gave, and I used my credit card because it was 20 Euros, and I had 20 exactly. Tipping is kind of up in the air here, as 15% is automatically added. But depending on the place, the waiter may not get it at all. The law requires it be added, but does not require it to be given to anyone but the owner. So if they’re nice, and he was…I ignore the 15% and tip additionally. Most places however need you to add the tip BEFORE they run the card. Not always true, but often in cafes and bars where they have handheld machines for reading the cards. So you have to tell them beforehand or leave something on the table if you want to leave a gratuity. I had told him that everything was very good already so I added it after and he politely let me know that it wouldn’t work that way. So then we had a polite, yet emphatic little discussion about it. I wanted to leave him something, so I asked for change. We bantered back and forth about it a little and he insisted it was ok, not to worry about it. I thanked him kindly and left. I felt kind of awkward about it all but then saw him Christmas morning as I walked by on my way to the Metro. He actually smiled and waved and said good morning to me. I replied and wished him Merry Christmas. That was definitely one of the things that made Christmas Day (the next day) wonderful.

After that adventure, I started walking up Place Vendome towards the expensive shops. I hit a few places (window shopped, not hit as in robbed - though the thought occurred to me when I came across the 10-15 carat teardrop emeralds), then I stopped at one point and looked at a map (Metro and bus maps are everywhere) and decided to walk to the Moulin Rouge. It’s a little hike but a nice one, with the older buildings of the red light district and a general “Old Paris” feel everywhere. From there I caught the metro to the top of the Champs-Elysee to see the Arc de Triomphe. I had seen it from the Eiffel Tower and on maps, and even in a few movies but nothing could prepare me for the reality and grandeur of it.

Standing across the street (one of Paris’ famous roundabouts) I felt so small in the shadow of this monument to the fallen. I’ve fought no great war, never bled for my country and here was a towering, intricately carved monolith dedicated to centuries of people who had done just that. I took the underground passage to the free access and came out beneath it. Names of fallen generals were carved in every smooth surface, and on the ground beneath were metal plates commemorating events. World War II, Korea, the Napoleonic Wars, revolution and others were cast in plates and set in stone hopefully forever. In the center beneath the flags lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with an eternal burning flame. Things like this move me extremely. No matter what people think of the French and their positions historically, their nationalism is undeniable and evident everywhere.

I walked around reading and photographing the site (and tripped on a curb once when trying to avoid two police* officers walking their beat). They looked at me as if I might be drunk, then smiled and shook their heads. I apologized for my clumsiness and moved on. It’s amazing how far a simple “Pardon” will carry you.

Since the Arc sits atop the west end of the Champs-Elysee I decided to head down and see all the high end stores. This is another heart of the shopping district (Place Vendome being another) and people were out in force. Fashionable women carried empty suitcases to fill with the spoils of their own private war on the economy and everywhere people with money to burn slithered expertly in and out of packed stores. Christmas Eve is Christmas Eve no matter what high end shopping district you’re in, I suppose.

I stopped into Louis Vuitton (to give my friend Tran a serious case of jealousy for Christmas ) after a security checkpoint** and could instantly appreciate the care that had been taken to make the store worthy of the name and reputation. The sales staff were almost invisible, elegant wraiths in black with simple silver LV pins on their lapels. They spoke like warm butter and smiled so effortlessly it was almost impossible not to buy something. I suspect most of the stores were this way. So, I did the best thing I could think of and ran like hell. The only thing I ended up buying on the Champs that day was hot chocolate and a crepe sprinkled with sugar. Totally worth the 2.5 I paid for it.

I headed out, took more photos and waited for the lights to come on along the street. It’s an amazing sight and I was glad I waited for it. I saw them the first day I was here but hadn’t had a chance to really get out and look. I also hunted down the street I had seen from the Tower with all the red Christmas Trees and took some pictures there. Walking up the Champs-Elysee on Christmas Eve might be one of my most memorable…strolling with the tourists and locals alike, eating a fresh, warm crepe from a piece of paper and laughing with everyone at a silly version of Father Christmas sitting in a sleigh and charging people for portraits. Everything about the eve was simply charming.

*A note regarding the police. I think I often refer to the police here with a sort of reckless abandon. There are actually many uniformed security forces, the police, Gendarmerie, and other military personnel. All essentially perform the same function of maintaining order and responding to emergencies. And I can assure you, all look like they can kick the holy crap out of you. I have yet to see an overweight, our of shape cop on the streets of Paris. Most have been almost model handsome or beautiful. It’s a little disconcerting to see a remarkably attractive person carrying a compact assault rifle with ease and grace. They have also been extremely helpful and friendly so long as you aren’t starting trouble. I don’t recommend it.

**Checkpoints. About a week before I arrived here there was an incident at a Printemps department store (a couple of blocks from here) where an explosive device was found in a bathroom. No one was harmed, though a rebel Afhgan force took credit and promised more if French troops weren’t withdrawn from that country. It’s become quite common to have bags searched befre entering monuments and high end stores now and no one (including me) seems to have and issue with it. I’m ok with not being blown up. I’ve also been stopped by the security on the Metro at a random checkpoint as asked to show my ticket and papers. I carry them with me and was only held up for a moment. If you hapen to come here and experience this, don’t whine or make a fuss about it. They are really trying to keep you safe.

First Impressions

Posted on December 20, 2008

As we flew over the Atlantic, relatively warm compared to the -61F outside the plane I thought about the impressions I’ve had of Paris and the sorts of stereotypes and generalizations I suppose I, like so many people must have of this place. I was momentarily distracted when I saw on the display that we were approacing Ireland. I peeked out for a glimpse of that Emerald world but saw only clouds. It’s alright, though…Ireland is definitely for another day.

The ride was bumpy at times but mostly easy going. I sat next to a man from Florida who’d traveled extensively in a sort of serenditpitous way. Once to Australia for a wedding, once to London for work, a slew of other places for this and that and now finally a vacation to Austria and the surrounding areas for a month. His mother had married and Austrian so it made the time easier. All in all, I can’t say enough nice things about Air France. They were courteous to a fault, were prepared (pillows and blankets on every seat when we boarded) and everything entertainment-related was included. This included a host of new release and popular movies, video games, music, full meal at dinner with wine, and breakfast as we woke. And I flew coach.

I was uncertain about dinner so I grabbed something in Atlanta before I headed out. It worked out since dinner was a bit later on the flight but it was worth the wait so far as airline food goes. The mal consisted of a seared chicken breast with paprika, potatoes with a light onion cream sauce, cripsy green beans, bread, cheese, a chocolate coffee brownie, pudding and drink (wine, soft drinks, water, beer) followed by coffee or tea. As the sun rose over the eastern shores, I woke to fresh diced fruit, yogurt, a chocolate chip muffin, orange juice and coffee or hot chocolate. Seriously? I don’t eat this well at home, muc less on a flight. So bravo, Air France.

We arrived right on time and remarkably I went through customs without so much as a twtich. The agent was friendly (tip: greet people in France. They expect it and think you rude if you don’t…which may account for how often people think of them as the rude ones.) I’ve learned this quickly…the tone of the greeting (while almost always bonjour) seems to set the direction and tone of the conversation. I suspect this is true in most cultures but it seems very much the way of things here. The people I greet with a friendly and easy hello have been exceptionally pleasent to me. The rest of the airport was easy…my luggage came out quickly and I used a pay phone to call for my shuttle, since I couldn’t figure out how to dial toll free on my cell. He arrived as planned and off we went.

Before I leave the airport, though…I have to say there really are som striking differences that caught me as I walked and waited. The first was that while there was the usual confusion you find at any airport in any city in the world, there was an obvious purpose to everyone and everything. I soon learned this is also very much the way of transit in Paris. It’s chaotic and wild, but directed. More on that in a moment…the second, and the one that really struck me was the presense of the Gendarme at the airport. Soldiers in urban fatigues, lean and obviously serious and confident about their ability to maintain control, and very armed with lightweight urban assault rifles at the ready. Not strapped to their backs or at eas, but in hand in a position ready to fire if need be. The even odder thing was how little attention they drew from everyone. Just a part of the motion that is Charles de Gaule.

And then the stearotypes got seriously correct. My shuttle driver, thorough and effient not only looked like an Andretti but drove like one as well. We only nearly crashed once but watching him weave in and out of non-existent lanes, cut right only to go around the back way and squeeze in was like watching a master painter. The man was a god behind the wheel, and moved through alleys at a rate near suicidal, only to find perfect timing to stop for any pretty young woman trying to cross the street. LOL My shuttlemates (one couple from South Africa, one from Germany) were morbidly silent but I couldn’t help but be amused. I got here safe and sound and with my first adventure of the day. I also learned that almost no one honks at you…unless you’re doing the one sin in Paris driving: not moving. Cut in, weave, ignore your lane, cross three to go left at the last minute then swerve right back to get ahead? TOTALLY OK. Not go on green, DEATH SENTENCE. I *heart* this place already. lol

So now I’m at the Westin, a block from Rue de Rivoli and the Seine, Louvre and a million other things I must see so I need to head out and see them! The room is nice, with an incredible shower and a neat view (pics below) through a balcony over the street. I have the doors open to hear the Paris street sounds and so far they’re everything I expected.

T-14…HOURS. :D

Posted on December 19, 2008

It’s 6am the morning of my trip and though I’ve forsaken sleep I’ve slipped into a happy, calm excitement, for once less the child on Christmas morn than the adult, pleased with Santa’s preparations. I have no doubt that child-like glee (which was present in spades only 24 hours ago when I woke up and all I wanted to do was clean and pack - which I procrastinated on until last night, go me!) will return very shortly.

There’s something exciting about making as many preparations as one can so that the event itself can be enjoyed. I still have a few things to order, like ground transportation while I’m there, but I think I’ve covered as much of the others as I can for now. I feel good about that, and will really try to get to a stride where I can hopefully just roll with whatever happens. I think that’s the ideal as a traveler - do what you can, go with the flow for the rest. We’ll see if I can get there.

Packing was a challenge. I wanted to pack as light as possible, but while it’ll be 70 here today it should be a high of 47 and rainy when I land, with highs in the 40s and 50s all week. Next week it could easily drop down into the 30s unexpectedly, so I’ve had to bring layers. And packing light for 15 days isn’t exactly easy. lol My suitcase is pushing the 50 pound limit - but at least I only have one. I’ll weigh it once it’s complete and see if anything needs to go. I’m sure 20 pounds of that is socks. I’m a firm believer that if you can keep your feet warm and dry, you can pretty much take care of anything else. I think the Army and Marines agree with me on that one. Learn from the best, right?

14 and a half hours!

Deux! :O

Posted on December 17, 2008

Deux is for two, which means today is my last day of work for two whole weeks and I seriously need the time off. It’s been a whirlwind sort of year with a lot of changes (especially at work), which is actually a good thing, but it’s been stressful at times so I’m looking forward to the break.

It also means I only have two days left before the flight (technically since I fly out late in the evening I have thee, but really, who’s counting?). Last night I booked my car to the airport and put together some maps and other info I felt like I needed to get me on my way. This afternoon I’ll pick up a couple of converters from my friend Kevin on the way home and then I should be ready to pack! I have a couple of days to get things ready, pack, clean, see what’s what and what I forgot but really I feel like I’m pretty much ready to go. It’s not like I’m heading to a 3rd world country or anything so if I forget something I feel like I need, I should be able to just buy it. So I don’t feel stressed about that at all.

The things I absolutely must remember I have piled on a counter ready to go. I think. lol I’ll spend some time tomorrow going through them and make sure. Passport, itineraries, confirmations, contact information. Addresses of hotels, consulate information and a map of the general area I plan to be in, though I’m likely to venture outside of that comfort zone after a little while. It’s only a couple of weeks, but I usually pack a lot into a short time. Or at least I try to…though this time I really may just want to slow down a bit and enjoy specific things more deeply. I may never get back to places like the Louvre and the Musee d’Orsay and I very much don’t want to leave feeling like I didn’t see all I wanted of them.

~60 hours to go. Whoa.

I seriously cannot wait.

T-11

Posted on December 8, 2008

11 days remain and honestly, I think I’m awestruck by that. When did that happen?

The leaves have begun to settle from the trees in preparation for what seems to be an icy winter, the fall colors all but lost in the ice blue sky. It’s snowed already this year, earlier than usual…perhaps joining into the mad rush toward the holidays like stores and the hordes of shoppers they hope to attract. I don’t mind, I love this time of year.

I think I’ve sorted out my issues with Rail Europe, though I will never work with them again, I think…opting instead to deal directly with Eurostar and others when I can. That’s fine; live and learn, right? I have bus/rail passes (le Metro and the Tube) as well as my actual tickets for the Eurostar to London and back, I’ve registered with the consulates, mapped out a few things (a dozen more to go!) and picked up a few necessary items for the course, I think. I’ve been studying the vocabulary (1,000 words) with some success and some…not so much but that’s alright. I’ll do my best to communicate clearly and hope I don’t end up accidentally buying real estate. And even then, hey…vacation home. And who doesn’t need un maison de vacances en Paris?

I’m excited and nervous and just trying to be open about the whole trip. I think every day I see notes and photos from people who went and it seems like no big deal to them…maybe it’s something that you just can’t convey easily in a photo or a word, or maybe it’s just another city and I’ll feel the same. I really don’t know, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. I can’t imagine not being moved by a place with such rich history and passion, but you never know. The point is to go and find out.

And I’ve wanted to go my entire life. T-11.

Baited and Switched

Posted on November 30, 2008

I’m exceptionally disappointed with Rail Europe right now. I expect a certain amount of underhandedness and shady practices from US carriers, it’s almost their trademark these days. Offered fares fluctuate but the moment and on-line travel sites promise everything but the sun for one price only to drown you in “fees and additional charges.” It’s such a common practice that most people don’t even mind anymore and some will even defend it.

I don’t know why I expected more from Rail Europe, though. Silly me. A few days ago I used their on-line booking website to reserve travel from Paris to London and back for a small leg of my journey. There were multiple fares available, some with first class passage, some with a mix of first class seat without meals, etc. I opted for the comfortable seat, with some flexibility in exchange/refund and no meals. The total was just under $400US. Not bad, not extraordinary, but acceptable.

I immediately got a form letter “non-confirmation” letting me know someone would need to review my order, but not to worry, all was well. If your new to travel, this is red flag #1. Anyone that has a form letter that states everything needs to be reviewed by a “travel specialist” should give you something to think about. I knew what was coming, though: this fare is no longer available, next best, blah blah blah. You should also be weary of flashing notes like “ONE SEAT LEFT AT THIS PRICE!” on sites like Expedia and Travelocity, and especially Cheap Tickets (I never use them anymore, they’re the worst with “fees” doubling the advertised prices). Go and check the airline booking website directly when you see this. Every time I have, I’ve found that the plane is less than half-booked. At that point, call the airline directly and see if they can offer you a better fare than the site. You may be surprised at how many “one seats left” at that price they actually have.

And of course, this morning the E-mail came. To the tune of almost $600US instead of $400. Of course, if I don’t mind traveling 9 hours later, or another day, they can drop it a bit to almost $500. Sigh.

It’s possible that the site isn’t updated with enough frequency that seats sell out during booking, etc. But honestly? The whole process is simply crap.

All travel companies base fares on a formula and algorithm that predicts peak usage and need in rder to maximize profits. Gone are the days of 250 first class seats, 500 2nd class seats and 1500 steerage seats with 3 fixed prices for each. Depending on the time you order, the time you travel and the number of people looking up prices, a 1st class seat can cost you less than a 2nd and availability for any can fluctuate between all available and none, only to go back to all again, depending on the formula. It’s a high-tech bait and switch and EVERYONE knows it.

According to the E-mail I got, the seats I requested are available, with the options I wanted: just not at the price I was quoted.

Um.

Really?

Why?

If they were available when I put in my credit card number, and hit PURCHASE, and the seats are still available now, why did I have to wait three days for someone to contact me and tell me they actually cost more? Would you accept that if that happened to you at Walmart or Target? Would you be OK with picking up a loaf of bread on the shelf marked at $2.39 only to be told when you get to the register that it’s no longer available for $2.39 and is now in fact $3.59?

Car companies get away with it, marking one price on the sticker and then telling you it’s much more based on demand when you go to buy it, travel companies do it with a wreckless abandon that’s something close to criminal and event vendors do it for tickets to concerts and for some reason we accept it. Why do you think some web sites won’t give you the price of some “sale items” until you add them to your cart? (Here’s a hint: they’re tracking product demand and price tolerance). I’m wondering how long it’s going to be before my frozen waffles have “See manager for pricing” instead of “$2.99.”

Incidentally, I checked the rates directly with Eurostar, the train I should be traveling on and not only are the lesser rates still listed as available, they’re for better seats. So shame on you Rail Europe. I really expected more from you. But really, you’re no better than your US counterparts, are you?

Vingt et Deux

Posted on November 27, 2008

22 days remain and the trip is really starting to feel real to me. Yesterday I ordered another CF card (4 GB) so that I would have lots of storage for long trips when I might not get much of a chance to dump photos, and today I did what I could to book my rail travel between Paris and London as well as pick up travel passes for the Tube and the Metro. I got all three ordered but haven’t gotten confirmation on the Eurostar tickets. They sent me an email and said it would take 24 - 48 hours to confirm - hopefully there aren’t any problems with that. Getting to London is kind of important…otherwise I’ll be sleeping on the Rue de Castiglione.

Today is Thanksgiving and it’s absolutely gorgeous outside. A bit on the cool side but mild winds and a lot of sunshine. I’m hoping Paris will be similar when I get there, though I expect it will at times be cold and rainy, which is ok, too. I’m really looking forward to the Eurostar trip as well so I hope they can get me a confirmation soon.

This week I need to print out itineraries, vouchers and passes, and perhaps maps with routes on them so I can get acclimated. Historically it’s taken me a couple of days to start to understand the infrastructure of a city and begin to find my way, but both London and Paris are nothing short of complex so I might need a little help. I think a few sure figures with absolutely necessary paths (airport to hotel, hotel to train stations, etc) would probably give me a good start. I also need to check what clothes I have and what layers will go with what so I can make sure I don’t short myself or overpack, two things I’m prone to doing, especially the latter. I want to travel as lightly as possible but it’s 14 days, and socks alone would pretty much take up enough space to cancel out the idea of “light travel.” I think if I can stay dry and use hotel laundry if available I can cut things down a little with a bit of planning. We’ll see how it goes.

Other than that I need to make work coverage arrangements, collect important emergency information into a single safe place to carry with me and then make bill arrangements and hopefully that’s it!

Anything I’m forgetting? It’s so hard to know until you’re on the plane.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Thanksgiving and a safe, beautiful weekend!

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