Encore France: Day 15, The Sights You See

 

It was lovely to have spent the night in a big, soft, comfortable bed. The only trouble was that the apartment has window shutters. I lived in Germany for some years when I was younger, but had totally forgotten how wonderful shutters are at shutting out the noise and the light. The consequence of that was that we slept so much later than we had intended, having woken a couple of times to a room in total darkness and gone back to sleep again, assuming that the day hadn’t yet arrived. Well, of course it had – and had been hanging around waiting for us for quite some time. 

After breakfast we set off for the day, firstly catching a bus to take us to Tour Montparnasse, that giant, dark edifice which sticks up like a Gallic finger across the road from Gare Montparnasse. Now, I know that there are people – purists, those who care about whether or not a building “fits” its surroundings – who absolutely hate the Montparnasse Tower.

 

The big, black Gallic finger.

 

We are not amongst those. Sure, it does stick out like the proverbial sore thumb, but it also provides fabulous views over Paris, views which allow you to actually view the sites you normally view the rest of Paris from, views that offer great photo opportunities, a la –

 

Sacre Coer from Tour Montparnasse

 

The Dome, les Invalides, from Tour Montparnasse

 

We enjoyed a tasty lunch up there in the clouds, and managed, of course, to pick up a couple of little somethings to bring home, my favourite being a delightful tiny glass owl. I think he hails from the Bordeaux region because he certainly looks as though he has been on some potent red for a few hours, being rather off to one side and decidedly giggly looking. I love that he is a “chouette”, a word that can describe my lovely little owl or which can be used to say that you are feeling pretty cool, happy, pretty laid back. It’s perfect for him, so much better than the serious label “owl”.

And the best view of Mr Eiffel's Tower, with the Trocadero behind it,
from Tour Montparnasse

After lunch we walked - never wandering lonely as a cloud because it would be impossible to feel lonely in a city you love – up and down side streets, admiring apartment buildings and florist shops, delighting at little private parks, until we made our way back across the river and to the Madeleine, or La Madeleine if you like, or, to give it its correct name, l’église de St-Marie-Madeleine, that beautiful church just along the road from Place de la Concorde and which I really love. What a bonus! As we entered we were blessed with the most heavenly sounds. We discovered that our timing was just perfect as there was a visiting youth choir, from Portsmouth in England, who were filling the building with their wonderful voices right at that very time. We sat, enraptured, and listened until they came to the end of their lovely performance.

 

The heavenly sounding Portsmouth choir at La Madeleine

What more was there to do this day except to wander off, with an even lighter step, up to the stunning Garnier Opera House to feast our eyes again on its magnificence. This time we didn’t bother taking any photographs but just spent time marvelling at its beauty and enjoying some quiet moments sitting on marble benches in its lovely corridors while others, perhaps first-time visitors, ooohed and aaahed over the décor which itself is an opera.

 

Love this statue of Edward VII - oops, French, please - Edouard VII,
outside l'Hotel Edouard 7, Avenue d l'Opera.

Back out in the street, we let our feet take us in whichever direction they wanted, and so we became blissfully lost, pausing once at a little bar for some wine and later, somewhere in the 1^st arrondissement, for an absolutely delicious meal. As the sky over Paris darkened we found ourselves spotting a familiar sight – the Louvre, of course. They say all roads lead to Rome. I tend to think that all roads start at the Eiffel Tower and end up right in front of Mr Pei’s wonderful Pyramid and all that it draws you to. 

Just a couple more of my favourites taken from the Tour Montparnasse

Another wonderful day in a wonderful city. What will tomorrow hold?

 

What a Job!!!

As some of you know, recently all my photographs on this and my other blogs were "deleted" by Google for some reason. Oh, I wasn't singled out; it happened to zillions of people. Suddenly, lovely scenes of the idyllic French countryside, or Hong Kong Disneyland, or the Eiffel Tower were gone and in their place was a threatening looking black circle with an exclamation mark or, more recently, a triangle with an exclamation mark.

Why did it happen? Nobody has been able to provide any real explanation. It happened, and that is that. I did look at other blog platforms, but not being a computer whiz I came back to the lovely simplicity and user-friendliness of Blogger.

So, I guess all that is a long way to say: please be patient. I have so much to share with you, more trips to France with more leisurely cruises through the countryside, a visit to the stunning Norfolk Island, a return trip to Hong Kong, a day in Brussels, and - most recently - a cruise from Singapore to Hong Kong. However, I am slowly working my way through my old posts, beginning with the first trip to France, reinserting photographs and trying to do so with the care that I devoted to it the first time round.

I guess these things are sent to try us, aren't they. And, boy, are they trying, and so am I - trying my best to catch up, so please don't desert me. Check back regularly as bit by bit the photographs are coming back, and I will soon take you by the hand to share my travels with me.

Bye for now ... Me




The closing of the day near our home - often the loveliest sights are in our backyard.

Sooo Cruisy

Have to interrupt the French trip to mention that we recently went on a cruise, a Holland America Line trip from Singapore (one of our favourite spots in the world) to Hong Kong (another favourite), and, while I have no intention of spending the rest of my life cruising, it really is such an amazingly relaxing way to vacation - being totally spoilt, looked after, pampered, fed delicious foods, and doing as little or as much as you want. All that with some really interesting port visits, not to mention some wonderful sunsets.

 

 

 

 

Hm, might be up for one or two more cruises in the not too distant future.

Encore France: Day 14 - Back to Paris

 

A slightly warmer morning in Amiens, which goes to figure as it is time to return to Paris. After our usual wander around town we headed off to the railway station for our train back to the beautiful City of Light. 

On arrival we grabbed a taxi and went first to the Hotel Agora Saint-Germain to collect the luggage which we had left there before heading to the 7^th arrondissement and the apartment we had booked on rue de l’Université. We had arranged to meet the apartment manager at the hotel at 14.30 and had confirmed this to her by email, giving her our train details etc. However, on arriving at the apartment block we discovered - surprise, surprise – that she wasn’t waiting, despite the fact that she had assured us that she would be there. I telephoned her and she expressed her own surprise, claiming that she wasn’t expecting us until later. She then said that she lived in the 14^th and so it would take her some time to get to the apartment. She suggested that in the interim we should walk down to rue St-Dominique to check out the shops and said she would meet us outside the complex in an hour.  

Unfortunately, we now, of course, had all our luggage with us, but we had no choice and so we walked down rue Malar to rue St-Dominique. We noticed two supermarkets just literally around the corner, so fantastically convenient but the nearest place we could spot to sit down and have a coffee was a Starbucks. Now, not being American, we are not fans of Starbucks, finding their coffee pretty ordinary and not being enamoured of the whole way the place works, but at least we could sit down with our suitcases and while some time away in comfort and so we decided to go for it with one of their watery offerings. 

In due course we made our way back to the apartment, and within a few minutes the delightful young woman who managed the apartment came rushing along the street, ushered us into the building and up in the elevator to the apartment which would be our home for the next week.  

I had found and booked the apartment through VRBO, and realise that photographs on such sites – as with professional photographs of hotels – are often not that reflective of the reality. What looked quite stylish on the website looked rather tired and in need of renovating in reality. However, it was a fairly modern apartment, in a lovely quiet complex with a really attractive courtyard garden, and with fantastic double glazing (and the weather was cccold, shiveringly cold) and window shutters.  

The décor was, shall we say, different. The bathroom really gave us cause to pause. It was all gold and marble and – well, basically, gaudy, and also in dire need of some work as there were tiles which were chipped or loose, a mirror which was cracked, a cupboard door which didn’t quite close, and a toilet that needed three or four goes to flush each time. The bedroom was so OTT it was amazing. There were heaps of cupboards, which was great, and the bed was very comfortable. However, there was a bamboo-like wallpaper behind the bed, wallpaper that had the texture and look of one of those thatch fences which seem so popular amongst people wanting to create the Bali look in suburban homes. But then we noticed the wallpaper on the ceiling. My mind tries to forget, but I think I remember it as being very ornate and with lots of gold flecks. Eeee!  The kitchen was functional, as long as you kept a dish sponge in the sink to absorb the sound of the drip, drip, dripping of the tap which was probably in need of a new washer. There were plenty of glasses and dinnerware, and a great waste chute which we made good use of, not being used to such things. There was a second toilet, in a small room which also housed the washing machine, and at least this one seemed to have no issues regarding flushing, but it did have one of those wooden seats, which I always think are very suss hygiene-wise. The living area looked fine, containing a couple of settees and a dining suit. The dining suit was great, but the two settees were well past retirement age, sloping dangerously towards the floor at one end and just offering a selection of different sized lumps and bumps in other places. We found it far more comfortable to just sit on the floor. The carpet was pretty grotty, being quite badly stained and also quite worn in places. 

Nevertheless, this was our first apartment in Paris and most of these things just seemed quirky. Besides, the place was beautifully warm, the bed huge and comfortable, the location fantastic, and we simply looked forward to living there, in a complex with locals and being able to get a feel of living in Paris. So, happily accepting the keys and signing the contract, we promised the manager that we would call her if we had any issues but assured her that we had no doubt all would be just wonderful, we walked back to the entrance hall to see her out. Oops, where had that front door gone? Hang on a moment. We came in through a door here somewhere, we know we did, but there was now no door leading off that entrance hall other than the doors to the bedroom, kitchen and laundry. Where was the front door? As we chatted to her I looked all around the room – yes, door, door, door, curtain. Curtain? Why hadn’t I noticed that heavy floor to ceiling curtain when we came in? And why would there be a window there, on an internal wall? And then she moved toward the curtain, pulled it to one side, and – voila – there was the front door. This was the first time we came across that (to us) crazy concept of hiding the entrance with a curtain. I’ve heard various theories on why it’s done, from thermal insulation to hiding possessions from tax assessors (yes, seriously). Whatever the reason, it does strike us as passing strange. We sometimes closed that curtain just to confuse ourselves. Weird. 

I unpacked our luggage, checked out all the nooks and crannies in the apartment, and then we headed off to the famous rue Cler, that favourite street of American tourists but which is almost a cliché, to fill our basket with delicious cheeses, pates, olives, hams and tomatoes. We found a wonderful patisserie on rue St-Dominique just before rue Cler and bought some delicious bread and a couple of delicious Opera cakes.  

After depositing our goodies back in “our” apartment we wandered – of course – through to the river, strolling arm in arm down to the Eiffel Tower, and then back the other way as far as the National Assembly building. We then turned again, took a walk around les Invalides and then back along rue St-Dominique where we passed people dining at tiny little Parisienne tables outside charming looking bistros, enjoying the wonderful aromas issuing forth from inside, and pausing to admire the lovely wares on offer in the shop windows along the way. 

Ah, and we knew that we were back in Paris when we saw this classic piece of Paris parking. 

How do they get out in the morning?
(Actually, how do they get in?)

Tomorrow I’ll be offering more photographs as we visit Tour Montparnasse for the best views in Paris, drop in to the Madeleine to listen to angelic voices united in song, and have our eyes glazed over again by the opulence of the Garnier Opera House. I hope to see you then.

Encore France: Day 13, Amiens

From the journal: 

Started the day with a can of iced tea (yes, I know – how sad!) in lieu of anything else, but looked forward to a nice cooked breakfast and some great coffee somewhere in town. So, after a quick shower we rugged up like Eskimaux and took to the streets in search of an inviting eatery. Huh, what a fruitless search! It was 9.30 of a Sunday morning and we could not find a single place open. Amazing. Not even McDonald’s opened before 10.00 am, which we found really stunning, not that we would have gone there but it wasn’t an option anyway. We kept wandering and wandering around the streets, only to discover that lots of places – read “lots” as “most” – weren’t even open by 10.30. 

Amiens town centre has some lovely buildings

 

Eventually we spotted a little café which was open - it was a tea house, actually, and quite a charming place – and so we eagerly entered and there enjoyed the most superb Croque Monsieur and fantastic coffee. And we weren’t alone: there were two English families who had similarly been walking around for ages in search of somewhere to take breakfast, plus a middle-aged German couple. 

 

Some great streets to wander down.

 

The Germans, professional people from Berlin, sat at the next table along and started chatting to us, firstly simply expressing how unbelievable they found it that this was the first place they had found to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee. They then stunned us as they talked of their amazement over the damage inflicted on France in two wars, and actually said that they had always only thought about German towns being destroyed and that they had no idea other places, other countries, had suffered so much. We were staggered. I mean, where had these people been hiding for the last half a century to be so ignorant of the devastation of two world wars? Then they were quite insulting by saying that while on their tour they had noticed quite a few memorials to Australians who fought in World War One and they asked us what business either wars had been of ours anyway. Wow! 

 

Not a lot of people around, that's for sure.

 

After breakfast we strolled down to Notre Dame d’Amiens Cathedral to have another look. What a perfect time it was to do so as there was a mass being held in the beautiful central chapel area and when we entered the organ was playing and a choir was singing. It was indeed heavenly. We sat there enthralled for 15 or 20 minutes until the service ended. It was such a beautiful interlude. 

The magnificent Notre Dame d'Amiens -
impossible to capture with our little camera.

 

Leaving the church, we went for quite a long walk around town to build up our appetite for a yummy lunch somewhere in St Leu, perhaps at one of the two restaurants which Bertrand had recommended to us – Tante Jéanne’s or Belu. 

And fabulous, fabulous St Leu style

 

As it happened, Belu was closed and Tante Jéanne’s menu simply didn’t appeal. The man really felt like that most French of dishes – steak frittes – and I just wanted anything hot and yummy. After following the local habit of slowly cruising backwards and forwards along the canal-side checking out the displayed menus for all the wonderful restaurants at least twice, we decided to opt for lunch at Le Quay Restaurant, probably the most expensive one on the St Leu strip. 

What a fantastic area St Leu is.

 

What can I say? What an experience. Sometimes a restaurant and a meal are truly memorable. This was one such restaurant and one such meal.  

 

Incredibly beautiful.

 

We decided to sit outside, even though the day was freezing, and so the young, and totally charming, waiter - who we were to learn had recently spent two months in Australia - brought over an outdoor heater and positioned it near our table so that we were soon comfortable. For our Kir Royale he actually uncorked a bottle of Moet et Chandon, which he opened at the table so that we could see it was the real deal. We may have intended to have a simple meal, but as soon as we sat down we knew it would be special and it was. Kir Royale made with Moet, an amuse bouche of fresh scallops with tarragon, meat so tender you could have cut it with a spoon, and crème caramel that deserved a medal, all washed down with a pichet of light and lovely red, and finished with a delicious espresso. We agreed that we could never ever return to Amiens without returning to Le Quay Restaurant.  

Just open your mouth and say Ahhhh. Lovely St Leu.

 

Fully sated and having stored away for ourselves a lovely memory, we then walked along the riverside and through the parklands, pausing to watch a soccer game in progress. Despite the day not starting as we had expected, it had turned out to be a wonderful one and we happily wandered around Amiens for a few hours before returning to the hotel in the evening, with some simple fare and the usual bottle of vino for our evening repast.

 

Tomorrow we train it back to our beautiful Paris. See you then. 

Encore France: Day 12, Cappy to Amiens

 

From the journal:

 

After a light breakfast and a quick tidy-up of the boat, we completed the handover formalities with Bertrand, including giving him a box of Australian chocolate-coated macadamia nuts (yum yum) and receiving from him a Locaboat cap. All went very smoothly and there were, of course, no hassles with the vessel.

We were now ready to say goodbye to Cappy, and so Bertrand phoned a taxi for us and it turned up very quickly to whisk us off on the next stage of our holiday: a little time in Amiens. The fog was incredibly heavy, but the driver drove surely through the greyness and we were in Amiens in no time at all, with him pulling to the kerb outside our hotel.

Our room wasn’t ready as it was still only mid-morning, and so we left our luggage with the receptionist and went in search of the famous Notre Dame d’Amiens. The hotel was very, very close to the Cathedral and all we had read said that you could see it from the hotel and so would have no trouble locating it. However, the fog was so heavy that nothing was visible in the sky, and it was actually quite difficult to get our bearings as the visibility was so low.

Nevertheless, by a very circuitous route – probably covering double the actual distance – we at last came upon the Cathedral, which is actually the largest in France, and we were indeed duly impressed. The dimensions are absolutely awesome, and somehow the incredible soaring ceilings inside make your soul soar also. You feel so tiny in this space but somehow so lifted up. Were such structures really built for the glory of God, or for the glory of man? Whichever is more true, I doubt that anybody could visit such places without thinking of God.

How sad, though, and what a reflection on society, that outside all such monuments to God’s love and grace one always finds beggars holding out their paper cups for alms while inside people spend so much money on candles, postcards and – frequently quite tacky – souvenir medallions.

After visiting Notre Dame we wandered along the main shopping mall and found a jeweller’s store where we were able to buy a watch for the man’s battery. That the watch hadn’t been working for a few days on the boat was no big deal: time becomes almost irrelevant when you are drifting slowly through the beautiful French countryside.

By now we were both beginning to feel, however, that we had stepped out of France and into the Arctic Circle – it was absolutely FREEZING. We spotted a Galleries Lafayette and went in there to buy some warmer gloves, getting the shop attendant to remove the labels so that we could wear them straight away as our normal gloves just weren’t doing the job.

Now much warmed – no, now less freezing, we went to a café, La Forum, for a truly delicious lunch of Ficelle Picardie, a truly great ham and mushroom crepe, and local cider. Wonderful food, and also wonderful to have heaps of room in which to enjoy your meal, so different to the usual matter of sitting almost thigh to thigh with strangers at cafés and bistros in Paris.

Beautiful building opposite the Cathedral

 

It was now time to return to the hotel, which we were glad to do because as soon as we left the café we were hit once again by the cold, cold air.

What a surprise awaited us in our room! We were allocated room 130, which was obviously VERY newly renovated (smell those paint fumes!). One wall was covered in totally gorgeous wallpaper of drawings of sheep, white on a black background, obviously a little something for when you can’t sleep. Another wall was painted bright, bright, bright lime green. Wow! And then we checked out the bathroom. Truly amazing! The vanity, which was a large glass bowl raised up over a lime green cupboard, was quite groovy enough, but then – the piece de resistance – we noticed the burnt orange/vermilion glass shower screen over the bathtub. It was the same colour as the paint on the walls above the tiling, which mercifully was white. Incredible décor indeed. It was just so delightfully quirky and unexpected that we absolutely loved it, I have to tell you.

My man then opted for a shower in that fantabulous bathroom while I decided to walk back towards the town centre in search of a hairdressing salon. I found one only a couple of blocks from the hotel, and was delighted with the treatment I received there – shampoo, trim, blow-dry, and a great cup of coffee all for about €20, a damn sight better than the 60-odd I had paid in Paris previously.

 

Now you really can count sheep.
Fabulous, isn't it.

 

When I got back to the hotel we checked out our local map and, as the fog had now lifted and we could actually see where we were going, decided to head out to have a look at the St Leu area, which had been described to us as the “Venice of the North”. Well, the streets we walked down in search of this particular Venice certainly did not inspire confidence: lots of scary looking skinhead types, young yobs, beggars, and graffiti everywhere.

But then – ah, doesn’t this happen so often – we turn a corner and … no, it wasn’t “Venice of the North”, but suddenly it was there in front of us, charming, quaint, absolutely lovely, lots of old houses squeezed together fronting the canal, many of them restaurants offering wonderful-sounding dishes and with great smells emanating from inside. We decided to return the next day for lunch.

We then retraced our steps to the hotel, stopping at a supermarket along the way for some iced tea, chocolate and wine. And, hey, here are some of those yummy French party mix type lollies. Must have some of those. A good idea?

Back in our room we drank our iced tea and munched on some lollies while we read a newspaper (our first in over a week). We then opened a bottle of wine for a little pre-dinner drink, thinking of what culinary delights we might sample this evening.
 

The buildings opposite the cathedral.
(Just bought my first ever photo-editing software and have to try it out - sorry.)

 

Hm! I quite suddenly started to feel really, really tired. I had no enthusiasm for dinner, but was quite sure that once we were out I would be okay and so we rugged up and headed to the centre of town. By the time we got there I was almost sleepwalking and was once again experiencing strong stomach pains. The thought of food was decidedly unappealing, to the point where I couldn’t even face watching my husband eat and so there was no way we could go to a restaurant.

My poor man; it was happening again.  He was so sweet and settled for a waffle from a street trader which he ate while we walked back to the hotel. I wasn’t as ill as I had been in Picquigny, nowhere near it, but it certainly spoilt the evening for us.

And the lesson is: avoid those French mixed lollies, as they must be the culprits. My man thinks it’s the blue ones, that blue lollies are just wrong. I can’t agree there, instead feeling that there is simply a sweetener (or some additive) used in the local lollies which my whole system objects to.  Such as bummer as they taste so good.

And so to bed – a lovely, comfortable bed with crisp white sheets and a fantastic pillow. Ah, heaven.

 

Encore France: Day 11 - Corbie to Cappy

 

From the journal: 

Thinking for some reason that Corbie to Cappy was only a three hour run, we had planned to visit Villers-Bretonneux in the morning and then make our run into Cappy after lunch. Luckily, my trusty Captain decided to check the distance in the cruise guide, and the amount of locks to pass through, and discovered, to our horror, that it was at least a five hour trip. Oops. 

We had another quick walk about in Corbie – do so like that town – and picked up another Flamiche (couldn’t help ourselves) and some of the wonderful local Picardie cider to wash it down with.

Beautiful scenery along the Somme between Corbie and Cappy

The countryside between Corbie and Cappy really is quite, quite beautiful and it is just a shame that it bucketed down most of the day and so we had to stay inside the boat instead of being in our favoured position up on top.  



Street scenes in Cappy

We reached Cappy at about 5.30 in the afternoon and tied up at the quayside, the jetties being fully occupied by other Locaboat vessels which had found their way home, like little lost sheep, during the week that we had been gone. 



Cappy War Memorial

Once all was secured we wandered around this interesting little town, the closest to where Manfred von Richthofen aka The Red Baron was shot down during World War One. We took a few photographs before returning to the boat and our last meal onboard and snuggling down for our last sleep on the lovely bateau Labreilloire.

And tomorrow we sadly hand the vessel back to Locaboat and then depart Cappy again for Amiens, but this time by road. See you then.