Monday 3rd
September 2012
We wake at 7, have our usual orange and head for Charroux.
We will breakfast along the way.
Soon we are on motorways
and there is no appropriate place to stop so breakfast becomes brorning
tea at about 11. Because we are on motorways, our avowed last choice, there is
not much to see. Our time is spent dashing down hills getting enough momentum to
get up the hill on the other side. The van is great with stamina but not the
best with bursts of speed. We timed 0 to 100 as just under 2 minutes. Not what
a Ferrari driver would get excited about. Admittedly this may have been
starting on a hill.
Our trip shows us as passing near Paris. We don’t really
know how near we are to Paris but we now
know what Paris traffic jams are like. We
spend about an hour in walking speed traffic. Occasionally there is a
flurry of activity as an emergency vehicle negotiates the mess. We marvel
firstly at why an emergency vehicle would enter a solidly blocked motorway then
, observing the journey, how people manage to clear a path for the vehicle. The
first is an ambulance which performs well. Mind you, how anyone can drive while
blocking their ears against the deafening siren still remains a mystery. Next
emergency vehicle is a police van with a police motorbike escort. They get
through the mess by having the motorcyclists intimidate the drivers in the
vehicle’s path. As a motorcyclist passes
a car in its way, the rider indicates with a gloved hand that the car should
move out of the way. How this should be achieved is not indicated, but it is
effective as the car somehow moves sideways and the police vehicle passes. Maybe
the police get kickbacks from the panel beating industry.
Another interesting phenomenon is the number of motorbikes
which use the motorway and the extra lane which is provided for them by common
agreement. Lane splitting in Victoria is illegal although often practised,
however here it is a normal part of the system. If a vehicle is not close
enough to the barrier to allow the cyclists a free path, there is tooting and
waving by the cyclist. Admittedly there is also the odd ‘thank you’ toot when a
motorist moves further over. Bikes career down this unofficial laneway at great
speed, most with hazard flashers on. Given the progress of the cyclists
compared with the cars, it is easy to see why motorbikes are popular.
Unfortunately the actions of cyclists when traffic is moving very slowly is
sometimes mimicked on the motorways at 130 kph in the same whigh speeday. We
saw one cyclist who was aggrieved kick at a car hoping to break the car mirror
while travelling over 100 kph. Surely
not a wise thing to do.
Eventually, as we start heading away from Paris, the traffic
on the motorway starts moving reasonably
and soon we are back on track moving at an acceptable speed.
Our day is spent whittling down the kilometres to Charroux. Our
trip from the Kloster was shown as taking 13 hours but has taken 22 hours over
2 days. This includes breaks and the odd snooze as driving the van is quite
tiring whether it be on motorways or narrow back roads.
Finally we arrive at Charroux at 7.15. We intend staying at
the Charroux Aire tonight so as not to disturb Mavis’s family who are at their
home and in the gite. We can then dump the waste tanks before going up to
Mavis’s house to prepare the van for winter.
.Tuesday 4th
September 2012
We are ready to leave the aire by 10 having dumped, cleaned
and chlorinated our sewerage waste tank. The grey water tank we empty and any
more generated can go on the garden.
Firstly we drive to John and Carol’s house to bid them
farewell for this year. Unfortunately John is occupied with anther airport
pickup tomorrow so cannot ferry us to Poitiers so we will say our farewells
today. As they are not there, we leave a note and go up to Mavis and Terry’s
house.
Mavis’s daughter and son in law, Helen and Richard, and
Richard’s parents, Carol and Peter, are at the house and Richard has kindly offered to drive us to Poitiers
tomorrow. We meet them at the house and find them to be as friendly and helpful
as Mavis and Terry. Helen and Richard’s 3 year old daughter, Elizabeth or
Lizzy, is also there, keeping everyone in order.
They are all about to leave to visit a monkey park. After
greetings and offers to help with anything we need, they leave, expecting to
return late afternoon. They kindly ask us to have dinner with them but we
decline as we have things we need to consume from the van. We have already
exceeded our food throw out quota for this holiday by not adequately removing
all butter from the butter wrapper before discarding it.
The afternoon is spent washing the van and the bikes,
tidying up inside and generally getting ready to leave tomorrow. By 6pm we are
satisfied that tomorrow all w2e need to do is tie on the tarp and remove a few
more items and we will be ready.
We decide to ride into the town on our nice clean bikes to
get some more money from a hole-in-the-wall then to ride down to John and
Carol’s to say farewell. When we arrive there, we knock but there is no
response so we ride further to the river. Nothing very interesting there so we
return and see Carol in her garden. A chat over the fense in true English, and
maybe French, style and we learn John is playing tennis. We bid Carol farewell
until next year and ride back.
Helen, Richard and family have returned so we go to say
hello. We end up having a drink before dinner then retreat to the van to clean
out the fridge. Before doing so we reverse the van into its parking place for
the winter. If we are hoing to have any
problems, we want to know about them tonight.. There is only 100 mm each side
to the operation is a delicate one. Things are slightly more difficult as there
is now a caravan in there as well. There is only 500 mm for manoeuvring back
and forth so after quite a bit of to and fro, the van is as close to the wall
as it is going to be. It is also on an angle to allow a ride on mower to get in
and out of the yard. Quite a tidy little package of vehicles.
After dinner we go back for some after dinner drinks and
share some honey and something pie. We never discover what the something is. We
have a lively conversation and an enjoyable evening, returning to sleep about 12.30. During the evening Ro has gained a lot of information mainly
from Peter on where to visit in UK and what to avoid. It is good that we have
started planning for next year already.
Wednesday
5th September 2012
Our task this morning is to empty the van and tie down the
tarp. First there is a lot of condensation to wipe from the roof. The tarp is
already on the roof, placed there last night, so unfolding it is not difficult.
But it is very big and tying it down is a major job. Last year I placed eight
large logs on the bottom but wind managed to remove the tarp. This year I use a
lot of rope to hold the tarp in place…..hopefully. We will see next year.
By 11 we are ready to drive to Poitiers with Richard. We say
farewell to all the others and invite them to look us up if they are in Oz.
More likely we will see them next year in UK before we see them in Oz.
We arrive with plenty of time to spare. It is 12 and our TGV
leaves at 13.12. Now we know about designation of Voie (platform) 20 minutes or
so before departure, we can relax over a coffee until the platform is
displayed. When that happens we go down the underpass to platform 2. Lugging
one big and one smaller bag is easier than last year and the steps on the underpass
are less than those to the overpass where we could use a lift at the expense of
more hassle.
Consulting the electronic train composition signs, we
position ourselves where our carriage should be. Last year we had 5 minutes to
board but as the train has not arrived by 13.10, we may only have a minute or
so this time. This proves to be the case. We are not sure if this is carriage
13 as we cannot see any illuminated sign but lug our bags on board and will get
to out correct carriage once on the train. Barely a minute after boarding the
train is silently gliding out of the
station. Lucky we had positioned ourselves next to the carriage because there
would have been insufficient time to walk along the train.
Getting on and off TGVs requires the same patience by
commuters as does driving on the roads. Commuters with large bags (us included)
crowd around the doors whether entering or exiting. Everyone indulgently
squashes together and squeezes up to allow yet another bag to get through. Yet
everyone is in it together and when the doors open or close, the throng
disperses. The train is moving when I start looking for a space for our bags.
We have boarded the correct carriage but the luggage area is full. However the
luggage area of the next carriage has room so I leave our bags there. Last year
we were a bit paranoid so chained our bags to the rack so they would not be stolen. This year, with
a better perspective I don’t feel the need to lock them. Besides there is only
one stop and we are in First Class, having said to hell with the extra six
euros that first class cost over second. The airlines could learn a thing or
two from the railways. Has first class on the aircraft been 6 euros, or even
10, more we would have chosen that rather than economy. That is the problem
when accountants run companies.
We get to our First Class seats, dust them off and remove
the rubbish (only kidding) and settle in. Everything is quiet as the train
glides silently along. “Turn right” commands Thomasina from Ro’s bag sitting on
the table. A concerned glance from the other passengers prompts us to turn her off. Luckily the conductor is not
near. He may have thought, like the German boarder police last year, that we
were trying to smuggle people.
The trip passes quickly and comfortably, other than in the
tunnels where ears are seriously assaulted by the pressure wave of the 180kph
train. We arrive at Montparnasse. There is a nice feeling of familiarity as we
know where we are and what to do. The feeling evaporates as we try to buy a
ticket. The machine is in French with no choice of English. It only takes cards
and when offered our travel card contemptuously spits it back out with some
French phrase which may have been more abusive when it knew it was a foreign
card.
Forget about the ticket, we have to call the Paris booking
agent. We find a phone. T pianist on a small white upright piano is furiously
playing Chopin. Not what you would hear on a Melbourne railway station. The guy
in the next cubicle has just left as his card was also rejected. We try cash. I insert 2 20 cent pieces, The display shows 40 cents.
There is a dial tone so we call. Ring Ring. Nothing. We try a few number
combinations. Still nothing. At least the phone gives back our coins, which
increases my trust that it is not just a con artist disguised as a
telephone. I go for broke and insert 1
euro. This time the phone connects and, as Ro speaks, I feed coins to the
phone, which obviously has not eaten in a while. But it does give us change at
the end.
Our careful plan to take one metro has been altered by the
phone call. We must take the metro to Chatelet
then change lines for one stop to Louvre Rivoli. Sounds simple and is
except for steps which go up and down
between the lines. Steps with all our luggage are not welcome. We find another
ticket machine which will take our card and does have English so life
beautiful.
Arriving at the agent, we attend to some details then walk
to our apartment, only 150 metre away. It is similar to the apartment last year
and is tiny. This year, we stow our bags in a cupboard and are rewarded with a
20 percent increase in available floor
area.
After a shower, we go exploring. First thing is a bit of
grocery shopping for breakfast. We do a circuit of the area and can find
nothing but an organic type shop. We buy a few things at what seem to be
exorbitant prices then go back for a bit of sustenance. A bit later we venture
out again and end up walking to the Pompidou centre where we purchased things
last year at a nearby small supermarket. They have not cleaned the centre and,
although very popular with the French, looks quite grubby. Maybe its external
utilitarian design ethos is enhanced by
the grime.
Returning again to the apartment we pack away some purchases
then go out for dinner. We find a small restaurant and Ro has a fish dish while
I have duck. Both are delicious. After our meal we walk down to the Seine, 2
blocks away and enjoy the sight of Pont Neuf
with its night lighting. Further over, the Eifel Tower sweeps its
searchlight out over Paris once every 30 seconds.
As it is a little cool, we go back to our apartment for the
night. I have a small task to complete before bed. For some reason I had
decided we did not need our power adaptor with us so left it in the van. We do,
in fact, need it for the computer, the camera, the phone, Thomasina, etc etc.
Earlier today we visited Darty, an electrical store, where they had adaptors
for 30 euro. Too much, when there are aluminium drink cans galore scattered
about. So we had picked up one, a Red Bull can which claims to be an energy thingy anyway, Using Ro’s nail
scissors and two Bandaids, I am able to make two circular insulated prongs
which slip over our Aussie angled pins and allow us to use the European power
point. Perhaps not something the electricity company would endorse, but fine
for the small current the charging device draws. Perhaps I should add the
postscript: “Don’t try this at home”, but it solves our problem. By morning the
computer is fresh as a daisy and ready to use the wifi available in the
apartment. To us, wifi on tap is heaven.
Thursday 6th
September 2012
We awake at what we think may be 8am. I say that because we
don’t actually have a clock. We rely on the computer, still set to Oz time, and
the camera.
After breakfast we fiddle about for a while the get
ourselves ready to walk to Sacre Coeur. As we enjoy the sun drenched streets,
we are surprised that so many people are at sidewalk cafes eating. I think it
must be 9 by now so presumably they are having breakfast…… of wine, pasta and
other such things. Seems odd for breakfast but this is France. Maybe it is
later than 9. We check the camera. It is 12.40. Lunch time. We seem to have
lost 3 hours. How careless of us. Anyway we don’t need to be anywhere so we
will just adjust the schedule which we didn’t have anyway.
Sacre Coeur is at the highest land point in Paris, which is
otherwise flat. As we approach, the roads start to climb and we decide that,
given the time, maybe we will buy some rolls which we then eat in an open area
near a children’s play ground.
The cathedral is approached by dozens of stairs. It is a
magnificent sight. There has been a lot of work in cleaning the stone to its
original white colour from the dirty back it was. We see some areas not cleaned
and it is a black as black due to years of grime in the atmosphere. There is a
truck mounted special purpose crane which is fitted with a very large box with
filtered fans which allow them to clean, probably sand blast, the stone without
showering the area with sand and debris. This is working on a building facing
the cathedral but provides little distraction as it is fairly quiet.
The cathedral, as always, has fantastic masonry work and is
of huge proportions. Although, we have become a little blasé about both aspects
as we have seen dozens of similar or bigger buildings, this building is
stunning for its remarkable mosaic work. Also significant are the domes which
give it a middle eastern flavour, even somewhat Taj Mahalish.
Above the alter is a
huge mosaic over the domed ceiling. It is richly adorned with tiny mosaic
pieces which make it look like a painting but with greatly enhanced protection
against aging. It gleams like it was
finished yesterday.
There is a panoramic view across Paris just slightly lower
than the Eifel Tower available from the dome of the cathedral. It involves
walking up 200 spiral (helical for pedants) stairs then another 100 steps up
hill and down dale across the rooves to the dome. Another short spiral
staircase and we have a magnificent 360 degree view around Paris.
The day is clear and the sky blue with only a slight haze
evident. The 360 degree view is obtained by walking around the perimeter of the
20 or so metre diameter dome. Barely a hill is visible on the Paris horizon. We
spend about 40 minutes admiring the
view, finally descending a second set of
stairs. By the bottom, we are quite giddy from the 10 or so turns we perform as
we descend.
We stop at an Irish Pub for coffee and somewhat reluctantly
listen to some street performers. When they seek donations, I am tempted to
offer money for them to perform elsewhere.
Montmartre is the artists area and there are numerous people
wanting to sketch passers by. We wend our way through them and continue along
curving quaint streets which once were the haunt of well known artists. We
continue on to see le Moulin Rouge. People have commented how small it is but
the red windmill I would not call small. It is probably 10 metre high.
We get the metro back to our apartment and later go out to
dinner at au Chien qui Fume, the smoking
dog. It had quite quirky artwork around the walls of human bodies with dog’s
heads in 1920s type scenes. There were also numerous porcelain dogs. The meals
we had were quite tasty although not as good as last night’s despite being significantly more expensive. However the
décor was far better than last night.
We finish up the evening by walking to Ile Saint Louis, past
where we heard a jazz band last year. It is nice to be in Paris again.
Friday 7th
September 2012
Today we want to go
to Versailles. We have seen Eggenburg, Schonbrun, San Souci and Fontainbleu so
our plan is to just view the gardens.
Soon we will discover that ‘just’ is not the correct word.
We are out the door by 10 for our joust with the French rail
system. Our Paris Transport map is clear and pretty well the same as all such
maps. The walk to le Halle, the closest tube station and the one we should have
used from Montparnasse, is only a few minutes. We need to go to Saint Michelle Notre
Dame on line 4 on the Metro (central underground) where we change to RER (suburban)
for the trip to Versailles. We could walk to Saint Michelle only 10 or 12
minutes away but using the tube is quick and easy.
Saint Michelle is 3 stops away and trains arrive every
minute or two. The ride in the train involves aircraft like acceleration and deceleration, sometimes as we snake our
ways around bends. Usually the train is so packed that we could not fall over
anyway or there is a grab rail within reach. The trip takes 4 or 5 minutes and
we tumble out onto the platform with hordes of other commuters.
Making our way to the RER platform we are just in time to
see a train leave. Damn. However we then see a monitor which shows various
trains leave from this platform and the one just gone may not have been the
correct one. We have a 15 minute wait for the one we need.
The train is double decked and is fairly empty. Bit of a
waste. However, as we stop at the 10 stations before Versailles, the carriages
fill and by the time we reach Versailles, there are hundreds exiting through
the turnstyles, which are not working anyway. 15 million visit Versailles each
year or an average of 50,000 per day…..
more in summer. Most of these will arrive by train.
We walk 2 km to the palace and obviously marvel at its size.
We can go round the main entrance to the gardens. Where to start.
If the gardens at
Schonbrun were immense these can only be described as gargantuan. The grounds
of Versailles were 7600 hectares in Loui’s time but have been reduced to only
800 now. That is small comfort to us as they are too big to appreciate from the
ground and far too big to walk around.
We walk toward the Grand Canal which starts probably 2 km
from the palace and stretches a similar amount beyond that. There are rowing
boats on it, although nowhere really to go. But it would be a good experience.
Maybe later. Up near the palace there
are large formal gardens with central water features. The vista from
beyond the formal gardens to the Grand
Canal begins with a large fountain, extends through a wide courtyard then continues as walkways
which extend to the Grand Canal with
dozens of statues and a central green swathe of grass. It is a magnificent
view. One thing which mars enjoyment of the
environment is the dust from the gravel
paths. It coats everything, including the vegetation, with a fine grey/beige
dust which presumably is washed away
with the rain. I would imagine the view would be wonderful after light rain.
To the left and right of the walkway to the canal are long
corridors of trees bordered by lattices to a height of 2 metre. Hidden in these
are eateries, from one of which we buy some coldish and very ordinary coffee
with some chocolate brownies, also fairly ordinary. The price is less ordinary.
Walking further in a big loop we come across a beautiful
plane tree lined walk which we enjoy on a bench for a few minutes before
continuing on to see numerous fountains and water features until we return to
the palace.
There is a small train which we think would allow a bit more
sight seeing without wearing out our feet so we queue in the hot sun for
tickets and rattle off toward an area we have not seen. We get off at the three
of the four stops available, one of which is the Grand Trianon. This is a small
palace where some of the royals would retreat to escape the formality of the
court. However, these palaces are so big
that once the oo-ah factor is over, it is unbounded ‘more of the same’. We are
ready to go back to our apartment.
After some
refreshments at the apartment, we want to visit Ile Saint Louis for some of the
famous, we are told, Berthillon ice cream. We arrive at 7.40pm, just before
their closing time of 8pm. We have 2 boules each for 7.60 euro. Ro
has pistachio and melon and I have chocolate and rum and raisin . Berthillon is
said to be the best ice cream makers in France and we would not dispute this.
They are truly delicious.
We walk back to ile de la Cite and listen to a jazz band on
the linking bridge for 15 minutes then climb down a steel staircase to the bank
of the Seine where we watch the sunset with many others who are in groups on
rugs with wine and, unfortunately, the ubiquitous cigarette. The view and
atmosphere is unique. The rocks on which
we sit are still warm from the sun and we remain there for an hour or so before
walking back to our apartment.
Late into the night the streets are still crowded with
people. This is the essence of the Paris one hears about.
Saturday 8th
September 2012
Somehow the morning disappears. Despite being in wonderful
Paris, we have our sights set on home and we don’t feel the need to spend every
minute out and about.
We have had a few ideas about what to do today and settle on
visiting L’Orangerie, for which we have tickets purchased at Monet’s Garden a
few weeks ago. We had intended visiting last year but that did not happen.
We know the building is at the end of the Tuilerie Gardens
so we walk past the Louvre and toward the gardens. A map tells us that it is in
the far left corner when approaching from the Louvre. On Reaching it, we walk around it to locate the entrance, not
immediately obvious from our approach side.
There is a security check as we enter, the reason for which
becomes obvious when we see how close we
can get to priceless paintings such as Monet’s huge waterlily canvasses.
On ground level are
two specially built rooms which
house the waterlily canvasses four of which are
perhaps 15 metre long and four of which are about 10 metre long. Monet
spent 30 years of his life trying to perfect the portrayal of his waterlily
pond, producing over 300 works on this subject. These 8 huge canvasses were given
by him to the state around 1920 with a description by Monet how they should be
displayed. The rooms were built in the 1920s for them however, as impressionism
had lost its popularity, they were not well received . Over the years, the
display fell into disrepair after the rooms were damaged in WW2 until the 1960s
when they were refurbished. Since then, they have been major tourist
attractions,
The canvasses in the
first room depict the pond at various times
of the day. They show no sky or edges to the pond and were intended by
Monet to completely absorb the viewer into them. They certainly are wonderful
to see, especially given that central seats provide a distance view while one can
also walk to within centimetres of the original canvass to observe brush
strokes and, unfortunately, some cracking as they age.
Downstairs are hundreds more paintings by artists such as
Renoir, Cezanne and Picasso. We also discover painters we do not know such as
Soutine, Utrillo and Rousseau. We spend a very enjoyable afternoon before
walking back to our apartment.
After some refreshments we walk to our supermarket near the Pompidou. It is Saturday afternoon and there are people milling
everywhere. This is Paris as residents experience it.
We stay in for the night, eating a light meal of eggs and
vegetables.
Sunday 9th
September 2012
Our plans for each day
are now made each morning. When we landed in Paris we saw an elevated
walkway from the bus near Orleane Gare which we wanted to see. In fact there seem to be a number of these
which were elevated railway lines through the city in the 1800s and early
1900s. In our Paris guide we have one listed as starting by the Bastille and
running for some kilometres.
We take the metro to Bastille and go to street level. Now to
find Promenade Plantee. We ask
directions in a bar but no one seem to know where it is. However they do direct
us to a Tourist Office… which we cannot find.
As we walk looking for the
tourist office, I hear Australian accents and ask the owners if they
know where the office is. They don’t but ask us what we are looking for. We say
the Promenade and they indicate they are also looking for it and have seen a
sign in this direction. I lament the observation that the French only offer
signage which seduces but does not satiate one’s desire for direction.. This
seems to strike a chord.
The direction suggestion
is enough as we see the promenade ahead. It is an arched stone structure
as would be expected of an 1800s elevated railway line. How the French has used
the space is spectacular. What is
missing in street level physical and visual amenity is more than compensated by
the elevated promenade. It has greenery either side with a path down the centre
and frequent benches. The 19th century apartments rising 5 or 6
storeys above the 2 storey high promenade also benefit from the vista. The
appreciation of the populous is evident from the large number of people walking
or jogging along the 3 km promenade. We walk the length to a green park which
is full people paying homage to the sun.
Leaving the promenade we
want to make our way to the Gare de Lyon for a metro to la Defence at
the opposite end of the line. But which way? As we walk contemplating the map,
a young passer by asks in French if we need any help. I indicate that I don’t
speak French so she asks in English then
offers us advise as to which metro station to use. She restores my faith in the French. This year we
have seen little if any of the surliness usually attributed to the French,
maybe even by us on occasion.
We eventually find the Gare after the odd bit of uncertainty
as to where the hell it actually is and take the metro to la Defence, via an
expected line change on the way.
La Defence is a
purpose built commercial park of skyscrapers designed to keep such
buildings away from the quintessential ‘old’ Paris. The centre piece is a
square annulus (if there is such a thing) of immense proportions called the
Grande Arche. The centre is large enough to enclose Notre Dame. Other buildings
mimic the cube in sympathetic ways. The precinct is as far removed from the
‘old’ Paris as Singapore is and is
reminiscent of Singapore in many ways even having an integral
shopping plaza making it indistinguishable from any other large city. We have
an ice cream sundae there as an external
café was so full of smoke from the al fresco area we didn’t stay.
Back on to the metro for a trip to Jardin du Luxembourg. If
we were surprised at the crowds las night, we are more so this afternoon.
People are almost elbow to elbow in some areas and in many areas every bit of
green grass is occupied. The hundreds of
chairs provided are occupied and as soon as one is vacated, another person
occupies it. There is a children’s playground which is packed and horses and
ponies being ridden. Paris is a city
with loads of amenity and the city
dwellers, many of whom live in cramped apartment accommodation, use the limited open
park areas to the max.
Back on the metro for a trip back to le Halle, our closest
station, 300 metre from our apartment. We have some refreshments then out again
as we want to visit St Merri cathedral
which is close to last year’s apartment and close to the Pompidou. It is open
until 6.45 and we arrive by 6.15 but despite two trips around its
circumference, we cannot find an open entrance. There are signs at doors that
the next door is the entrance but this proves to be similar to a card with PTO
on both sides. Looks like we are not destined to see St Merri.
So back again to our apartment as Ro’s knee and feet are
complaining from today’s long walks . We have, of all things, a dinner of KFC (
or is that KFP in France: a little
French language joke now that I am in the know ). The plan was to have
it on the banks of the Seine as the night is very warm but tomorrow we will
regret that if Ro is lame.
Monday 10th
September 2012
We are starting to mark time. We leave Wednesday and we have
our sights set on home. So what to do today? By 11am we have a bit of an
itinerary. We will go to a market which is near la Bastille and open in the am.
We leave le Halle and travel one station to Chatelet.
Yesterday we walked but that was because the met tricked us into walking
underground to that station as the station we wanted was Chatelet-le Halle,
which seems to be a French joke for those not in the know. When we change
lines, often the walk is as long as having walked at ground level to the
station required. There are a few secrets known only to those in the know in
France.
We travel to Bastille then try a new line for us for a
station or two to Ledru-Rollin where we
exit. We had consulted a map underground
and now need to get our bearings at ground level. That way, we think. We walk
and reach the market without too much effort…... the CLOSED market. Our book
neglected to mention the market is every day except Monday. Oh well. Riding the
metro is fun so we return home with some pastries for coffee. We bought some
Nescafe sachets yesterday and the advantage of then is we know what we will
get. With the plethora of coffee descriptions available, ordering is a bit of a
mystery bag. So making our own is safe and made to our liking.
After our treats, we get back on the metro to visit the Paris
Opera House. We saw it from the outside last year on our way to the somewhat
disappointing La Fayette department store and want to see inside.
The Opera House is just across the way from the metro. After
a quick security check of our bag, we enter the building through some vaulted
cloisters and buy two tickets. Then, after standing in a line for a while, Ro
sees a machine which takes credit cards
This speeds up our progress considerably.
The Opera House is absolutely spectacular. It was obviously
designed with the thought in mind that way too much opulence is not enough. It
seems that the lessons of excess by past royals which resulted in deposition
and death were quickly forgotten. Anything we have seen in the various palaces is easily matched by what is here. As a
legacy to the populations of today building such as these are wonderful and
this building must be among the best.
The Grand Staircase
is of magnificent marble adorned
with statues. The towering space above the staircase is painted with four
sections depicting different musical themes with an ornate chandelier , one of many throughout the building. On the second level
is a sumptuously decorated foyer which was intended to resemble
the gallery of a classical chateau( palace). It is intended to provide an area
to stroll through during performance intervals. It has 8 or 10 chandeliers either side and is
lavishly decorated with gilt and ceiling paintings. The tall windows out to the
balcony exaggerate the towering ceiling.
We enter the main auditorium which is also lavish. Four levels of boxes tower above the
stalls. All chairs are thick red velvet. Above the stalls, the boxes have two
or three seats with a divider between each set. Entering from the auditorium
access foyer through individual doors,
each pair of boxes has an antechamber in which coats etc may be left and
include a sitting area out of sight of the auditorium. Everything is decorated in deep red velvet,
all with subdued lighting. Visiting for a performance would be quite an
experience.
The auditorium has a massive 8 tonne chandelier and a Mark
Chigal painted ceiling which was
commissioned in the 1960s. It depicts composers with a scene from a
representative work. The whole experience is at least as memorable as any chateau.
We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our
rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera
house, that is. Everything is relative.
Ro’s knee is causing her problems so I take the opportunity
to visit the Museum of Erotica. This museum has erotic art from various
cultures and periods. It is more art than erotica and emphasises the views of,
mostly, eastern cultures that sex is healthy and wholesome rather than the
western view that sex is sleezy. There
are sculptures, carvings, drawings and paintings all celebrating the wonder and
power of procreation. However, in many cultures, a phallus is as much a sign of
power and protection as an organ of procreation. It is an interesting and
informative visit.
I get back to the apartment about 8pm. We have previously
decided we will visit the Eifel Tower at night time as we have seen Paris from Sacre Coeur in daylight. We get
onto the metro, now being familiar with how to get around, and travel to the
metro station closest to the tower. While we travel, it has begun to rain a
little. Fortunately it is not heavy and
during the 400 metre walk to the tower we only get damp.
The tower weaves its magic as we get closer. It is truly beautiful, particularly when lit at
night. We walk under the massive structure and consider climbing the stairs to
the second level. However Ro’s knee is likely to be made uncomfortable on the
downward journey so we opt instead for the lift. We don’t need to go to the top
level and the lower level will be less crowded anyway.
The queue is still 100 metre long and we take 30 minutes to
weave our way to the lift. It is still raining a bit and once the queue moves
out of the shelter of the tower we get quite damp. We consider exiting the queue
but barricades make that difficult. As we consider our options the rain stops
and we are dry for the rest of the wait.
The trip in the lift takes a minute or so. The lifts were
the largest capacity in Europe when installed in 1990s with a total of 110 people over 2 levels. The
view is captivating with the atmosphere freshly scrubbed by the light rain. We
see the silhouettes of familiar
buildings. . Boats with their bright lights move lazily along the
Seine as it snakes its way toward the horizon before being obscured by
buildings.
There is a queue to descend and it is 11.30 before we get to
the bottom. We retrace our steps and take the metro home. We are amazed at the
number of people still using the system at
midnight on a Monday. Paris is advertised as a safe city at night and we
feel perfectly safe. It is suggested that le Halle Forum, our exit point, is
not the place to be at night but there are still a few people exiting the met there.
After a Monday
10th September 2012
We are starting to mark time. We leave Wednesday and we have
our sights set on home. So what to do today? By 11am we have a bit of an
itinerary. We will go to a market which is near la Bastille and open in the am.
We leave le Halle and travel one station to Chatelet.
Yesterday we walked but that was because the met tricked us into walking
underground to that station as the station we wanted was Chatelet-le Halle,
which seems to be a French joke for those not in the know. When we change
lines, often the walk is as long as having walked at ground level to the
station required. There are a few secrets known only to those in the know in
France.
We travel to Bastille then try a new line for us for a
station or two to Ledru-Rollin where we
exit. We had consulted a map underground
and now need to get our bearings at ground level. That way, we think. We walk
and reach the market without too much effort…... the CLOSED market. Our book
neglected to mention the market is every day except Monday. Oh well. Riding the
metro is fun so we return home with some pastries for coffee. We bought some
Nescafe sachets yesterday and the advantage of then is we know what we will
get. With the plethora of coffee descriptions available, ordering is a bit of a
mystery bag. So making our own is safe and made to our liking.
After our treats, we get back on the metro to visit the
Paris Opera House. We saw it from the outside last year on our way to the
somewhat disappointing La Fayette department store and want to see inside.
The Opera House is just across the way from the metro. After
a quick security check of our bag, we enter the building through some vaulted
cloisters and buy two tickets. Then, after standing in a line for a while, Ro
sees a machine which takes credit cards
This speeds up our progress considerably.
The Opera House is absolutely spectacular. It was obviously
designed with the thought in mind that way too much opulence is not enough. It
seems that the lessons of excess by past royals which resulted in deposition
and death were quickly forgotten. Anything we have seen in the various
palaces is easily matched by what is
here. As a legacy to the populations of today building such as these are
wonderful and this building must be among the best.
The Grand Staircase
is of magnificent marble adorned
with statues. The towering space above the staircase is painted with four
sections depicting different musical themes with an ornate chandelier , one of many throughout the building. On the second level
is a sumptuously decorated foyer which was intended to
resemble the gallery of a classical chateau( palace). It is intended to provide
an area to stroll through during performance intervals. It has 8 or 10 chandeliers either side and is
lavishly decorated with gilt and ceiling paintings. The tall windows out to the
balcony exaggerate the towering ceiling.
We enter the main auditorium which is also lavish. Four levels of boxes tower above the
stalls. All chairs are thick red velvet. Above the stalls, the boxes have two
or three seats with a divider between each set. Entering from the auditorium
access foyer through individual doors,
each pair of boxes has an antechamber in which coats etc may be left and
include a sitting area out of sight of the auditorium. Everything is decorated in deep red velvet,
all with subdued lighting. Visiting for a performance would be quite an
experience.
The auditorium has a massive 8 tonne chandelier and a Mark
Chigal painted ceiling which was
commissioned in the 1960s. It depicts composers with a scene from a
representative work. The whole experience is at least as memorable as any chateau.
We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our
rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera
house, that is. Everything is relative.
Ro’s knee is causing her problems so I take the opportunity
to visit the Museum of Erotica. This museum has erotic art from various
cultures and periods. It is more art than erotica and emphasises the views of,
mostly, eastern cultures that sex is healthy and wholesome rather than the
western view that sex is sleezy. There
are sculptures, carvings, drawings and paintings all celebrating the wonder and
power of procreation. However, in many cultures, a phallus is as much a sign of
power and protection as an organ of procreation. It is an interesting and
informative visit.
I get back to the apartment about 8pm. We have previously
decided we will visit the Eifel Tower at night time as we have seen Paris from Sacre Coeur in daylight. We get
onto the metro, now being familiar with how to get around, and travel to the
metro station closest to the tower. While we travel, it has begun to rain a
little. Fortunately it is not heavy and
during the 400 metre walk to the tower we only get damp.
The tower weaves its magic as we get closer. It is truly beautiful, particularly when lit at
night. We walk under the massive structure and consider climbing the stairs to
the second level. However Ro’s knee is likely to be made uncomfortable on the downward
journey so we opt instead for the lift. We don’t need to go to the top level
and the lower level will be less crowded anyway.
The queue is still 100 metre long and we take 30 minutes to
weave our way to the lift. It is still raining a bit and once the queue moves
out of the shelter of the tower we get quite damp. We consider exiting the
queue but barricades make that difficult. As we consider our options the rain
stops and we are dry for the rest of the wait.
The trip in the lift takes a minute or so. The lifts were
the largest capacity in Europe when installed in 1990s with a total of 110 people over 2 levels. The
view is captivating with the atmosphere freshly scrubbed by the light rain. We
see the silhouettes of familiar
buildings. . Boats with their bright lights move lazily along the
Seine as it snakes its way toward the horizon before being obscured by
buildings.
There is a queue to descend and it is 11.30 before we get to
the bottom. We retrace our steps and take the metro home. We are amazed at the
number of people still using the system at
midnight on a Monday. Paris is advertised as a safe city at night and we
feel perfectly safe. It is suggested that le Halle Forum, our exit point, is
not the place to be at night but there are still a few people exiting the met there.
A drink to quiet down after out outing and we go to bed
about 1am. We like Paris.
Monday 10th
September 2012
We are starting to mark time. We leave Wednesday and we have
our sights set on home. So what to do today? By 11am we have a bit of an
itinerary. We will go to a market which is near la Bastille and open in the am.
We leave le Halle and travel one station to Chatelet.
Yesterday we walked but that was because the met tricked us into walking
underground to that station as the station we wanted was Chatelet-le Halle,
which seems to be a French joke for those not in the know. When we change
lines, often the walk is as long as having walked at ground level to the
station required. There are a few secrets known only to those in the know in
France.
We travel to Bastille then try a new line for us for a
station or two to Ledru-Rollin where we
exit. We had consulted a map underground
and now need to get our bearings at ground level. That way, we think. We walk
and reach the market without too much effort…... the CLOSED market. Our book
neglected to mention the market is every day except Monday. Oh well. Riding the
metro is fun so we return home with some pastries for coffee. We bought some
Nescafe sachets yesterday and the advantage of then is we know what we will
get. With the plethora of coffee descriptions available, ordering is a bit of a
mystery bag. So making our own is safe and made to our liking.
After our treats, we get back on the metro to visit the
Paris Opera House. We saw it from the outside last year on our way to the
somewhat disappointing La Fayette department store and want to see inside.
The Opera House is just across the way from the metro. After
a quick security check of our bag, we enter the building through some vaulted
cloisters and buy two tickets. Then, after standing in a line for a while, Ro
sees a machine which takes credit cards
This speeds up our progress considerably.
The Opera House is absolutely spectacular. It was obviously
designed with the thought in mind that way too much opulence is not enough. It
seems that the lessons of excess by past royals which resulted in deposition
and death were quickly forgotten. Anything we have seen in the various
palaces is easily matched by what is
here. As a legacy to the populations of today building such as these are
wonderful and this building must be among the best.
The Grand Staircase
is of magnificent marble adorned
with statues. The towering space above the staircase is painted with four
sections depicting different musical themes with an ornate chandelier , one of many throughout the building. On the second level
is a sumptuously decorated foyer which was intended to
resemble the gallery of a classical chateau( palace). It is intended to provide
an area to stroll through during performance intervals. It has 8 or 10 chandeliers either side and is
lavishly decorated with gilt and ceiling paintings. The tall windows out to the
balcony exaggerate the towering ceiling.
We enter the main auditorium which is also lavish. Four levels of boxes tower above the
stalls. All chairs are thick red velvet. Above the stalls, the boxes have two
or three seats with a divider between each set. Entering from the auditorium
access foyer through individual doors,
each pair of boxes has an antechamber in which coats etc may be left and
include a sitting area out of sight of the auditorium. Everything is decorated in deep red velvet,
all with subdued lighting. Visiting for a performance would be quite an
experience.
The auditorium has a massive 8 tonne chandelier and a Mark
Chigal painted ceiling which was
commissioned in the 1960s. It depicts composers with a scene from a
representative work. The whole experience is at least as memorable as any chateau.
We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our
rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera
house, that is. Everything is relative.
Ro’s knee is causing her problems so I take the opportunity
to visit the Museum of Erotica. This museum has erotic art from various
cultures and periods. It is more art than erotica and emphasises the views of,
mostly, eastern cultures that sex is healthy and wholesome rather than the
western view that sex is sleezy. There
are sculptures, carvings, drawings and paintings all celebrating the wonder and
power of procreation. There are more phalluses than you can poke a stick at, so
to speak. However, in many cultures, a phallus is as much a sign of power and
protection as an organ of procreation. It is an interesting and informative
visit.
I get back to the apartment about 8pm. We have previously
decided we will visit the Eifel Tower at night time as we have seen Paris from Sacre Coeur in daylight. We get
onto the metro, now being familiar with how to get around, and travel to the
metro station closest to the tower. While we travel, it has begun to rain a
little. Fortunately it is not heavy and
during the 400 metre walk to the tower we only get damp.
The tower weaves its magic as we get closer. It is truly beautiful, particularly when lit at
night. We walk under the massive structure and consider climbing the stairs to
the second level. However Ro’s knee is likely to be made uncomfortable on the
downward journey so we opt instead for the lift. We don’t need to go to the top
level and the lower level will be less crowded anyway.
The queue is still 100 metre long and we take 30 minutes to
weave our way to the lift. It is still raining a bit and once the queue moves
out of the shelter of the tower we get quite damp. We consider exiting the
queue but barricades make that difficult. As we consider our options the rain
stops and we are dry for the rest of the wait.
The trip in the lift takes a minute or so. The lifts were
the largest capacity in Europe when installed in 1990s with a total of 110 people over 2 levels. The
view is captivating with the atmosphere freshly scrubbed by the light rain. We
see the silhouettes of familiar buildings.
. Boats with their bright lights move lazily along the Seine as it snakes its way toward the horizon before being obscured by
buildings.
There is a queue to descend and it is 11.30 before we get to
the bottom. We retrace our steps and take the metro home. We are amazed at the
number of people still using the system at
midnight on a Monday. Paris is advertised as a safe city at night and we
feel perfectly safe. It is suggested that le Halle Forum, our exit point, is
not the place to be at night but there are still a few people exiting the met there.
A drink to quiet down after out outing and we go to bed
about 1am. We like Paris.
Tuesday 11th
September 2012
This morning it is raining steadily. We need to pack and we
are happy to take our time. If the day clears up, we may go down to the tower
and visit the right bank opposite which we have not seen. We also have not seen
much of the Latin Quarter but that may have to wait for another time. We think
we will be back.
It is still raining when Ro wants to do a bit of shopping so
we leave with umbrella open. It is steady rain and we need the umbrella. We had
lost one umbrella at Adi’s in Offenburg and have not replaced it so we look at
a 5 euro one. To be on the safe side, we open it. It has no catch so we try
another. It has got a catch….. the catch is the slightest puff of wind will
destroy it. We leave the shop without the 5 euro umbrella probably not much
wetter than had we bought the umbrella. We do buy a couple of other things.
We walk further and, to my extreme excitement, see a mobile
crane lifting a steel access frame onto the Pompidou. It has 120 tonne of
counterweights and the secondary jib is
15 or 20 metre long on top of a 15 or 20 metre high main jib. This is what dreams are made of. As Ro does
her shopping I watch ,transfixed.
After watching for half an hour, we return to our apartment
as the rain is still steady and do some more packing.
Later as the rain eases
we leave to visit the right bank
opposite the Eifel Tower. Taking the metro to now familiar stations we exit two
stations past where we alighted last night. We want to see the Trocadero
Fountain which is said to be spectacular at night time. We probably won’t wait
until nightfall but want to see it anyway.
Spectacular is a reasonable description, especially as the
main fountain jets which are not always on, start as we watch. There are also
some more wonderful shots available of the tower which still fascinates us
whenever we see it.
We walk around some other gardens in the area then continue
up the Seine as Ro wants to see the pseudo memorial to Princess Diana near the
tunnel in which she was fatally injured.
Near the Pont d’Alama is a reproduction of the flame from the torch of the Statue of Liberty. This
was erected by the International Herald Tribune newspaper to mark their
centenary but, since Diana’s death, has been a pseudo memorial to her. There
are flowers, cards, photographs and written tributes to her, especially following
the 15th anniversary of her death last month. It is very moving,
especially seeing tributes written in texta all around the area. She most
certainly touched a chord with very many people.
Back on to the metro, where it is just past peak hour but
still very crowded. It is interesting to
observe that the normal rules of interpersonal space disappear in peak hour.
With everyone crushed together, especially at entry and exit at stations, what
presses against what is largely ignored in the scramble to get on board. It is
an interesting social phenomenon.
We get back home by 7pm ready to transfer the contents of
the fridge to our stomachs so we don’t have to throw much out. As mentioned
previously, we have already reached out quota of waste food this year.
By 10.30 we are in bed hoping for a good night’s sleep
before our arduous flight home.
Wednesday
12th September 2012
This morning it is overcast but dry. A major advantage as we
have to lug all our baggage to the Forum Des Halles to get the RER to the airport.
We still have some packing to do before leaving by 9. We use
a digital fish scale to get our bags close to the 20 kg allowance. However,
Scot has asked us to bring back some bottles of a non alcoholic German beer and
the weight of them is close to 6 kg. They need to be in our hold luggage as
liquids of their combined volume are not allowed in hand luggage. This means
our hand luggage will be close to the 7kg limit. Everything ends up a bit
heavier than allowed and we hope we won’t be stuck with excess baggage, shown
on the web as $60/kg.
By 9 we exit the apartment and close the door leaving the
keys inside as directed in the supplied notes. The walk to the RER only takes 4
or 5 minutes and we are soon on the platform looking at signs which we don’t
find easy to understand. We ask a fellow passenger if the train goes to CDG and
she says the next train does. When we ask how she knows that, she explains in
good English but we still don’t understand. Another little mystery only
available to those in the know.
One way or another we end up on the correct train which
stops at Terminal 1 and 3 then continues to terminal 2. We need terminal 1 so alight at the penultimate stop. Up the escalator from the
platform…..but now what? There are signs to terminal 1 but, like other French signs, they are
hints not directions. We cannot see anything which looks like an aircraft
terminal. What we did not know is that we must take the escalator back down to
platform level then the shuttle from the station to terminal 1.
Finally we are in what is recognisable as an airport
terminal. We are directed to Singapore checkn and at long last we are on our
way home.
The flight leaves on time at 12 noon and we while away 12
hours with a film or two, a documentary or two and plenty of food. Singapore
service is very good. This time the entertainment system is more to our liking
also.
Thursday
13th September 2012
The stopover at Singapore passes quickly. We buy some duty
free perfume and board the aircraft at 9pm local time for the 7 hour flight to
Australia. I had thought our itinerary listed the aircraft as a 747 but it
turns out to be an A380, which is good as they are roomy and quite. We have not
slept much and don’t sleep much on this flight. But after what seems like an
eternity at the time is not so bad in hindsight and we are finally touching
down at Tullamarine. It is good to be home.
We pass through the automated scanning system for passport
control after working out how to get it to read the chip in our passports. The
fact that we don’t immediately understand the signs in our own country maybe
suggests the French signs may not have been the problem in France. What could
be the common element, I wonder?
Jacinta has kindly
offered to pick us up but it is Brad who arrives. It is good to be on familiar
roads with familiar sights.
We go back to Jacinta and Brad’s for a welcome home drink .
Scot has called in from taekwondo so we
chat for an hour about our travels and what has happened at home. Bella,
our dog, has stayed there a bit and she welcomes us home, not quite sure
whether to believe her senses.
About 10 we drive home, me having some slight difficulty
adjusting back to left hand side of the road. After a shower we wearily climb
into our lovely bed. Space at last zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
