Memoires de la France
June, 2000
As I am flying 30,000 feet over the English Channel, it just occurred to me that I have eleven whole hours to jot down my impressions about France. This task also serves to calm my frazzled nerves and jumpy stomach, as I am not getting any more comfortable with lengthy stays in metal tubes shooting across the sky (a.k.a. airplanes). Hopefully, this little bit of therapy will also entertain you. Feel free to skip sections if I ramble!!
It’s hard to know where to begin, but Paris is a great start. We arrived to our hotel after a ten hour flight from Los Angeles at around 4:00 p.m. on Saturday, June 17, and were rather alarmed when the hotel did not have a room for us. Apparently we had never received a “re-confirmation”, which, in English, means the reservations clerk blew it. However, the management was able to put us up in their newest acquisition next door, where we set up camp for the next four nights. After a brief nap (we had been up since 6:00 a.m. Friday, San Diego), we decided to escape the heat and noise of the not-so-glamorous Hotel Minerve and explore Paris.
Since we were in the Latin Quarter, only a few short blocks from the Ile de la Cite (Old Town Paris), we began with a walk along the Quai adjacent to the Seine River. In spite of the 85 degree temperature I got goose bumps. Was it me, or my virtual twin that was really here touring this famous place?? We walked alongside the Notre Dame Cathedral , a truly remarkable and impressive edifice symbolizing all that is great and powerful about our Church. We continued our walk through the Ile de la Cite, awed at the beauty and timelessness of the ancient buildings and bridges. Since our stomachs were soon growling, we crossed the Pont Neuf to the neighborhood of St. Germain on the left bank to explore the numerous cafes recommended by Rick Steves of PBS “Travels in Europe” fame. Rick seeks out good values and down-to-earth type places that appeal to our taste and budget, so we thought we’d give one of his favorites a try. And Rick didn’t disappoint. I ordered a wonderful green salad filled with a variety of lettuces, tasty ham and aged French cheese accompanied by crusty baguettes. Peter stuck with a sandwich and a rich draft beer. Yummy!! Nearby church bells rang, the cigarette smoke of nearby diners filled our lungs and traffic whirled by our street side table. Just like you imagine Paris! Soon after we ate, the rigors of overseas travel began to take their toll and we decided to walk through the lively St. Germaine District back to our hotel for a good night’s rest.
The Latin Quarter is home to University of Paris and its college of humanities, the Sorbonne. Consequently, living in this neighborhood is very much like living in a dorm. The late setting sun (10:30 p.m.) added to the boisterous activity in the street and hotel hallways. After a fitful night’s rest, however, we decided that Sunday Mass at Notre Dame was too good to miss. As we walked along the river, approaching the Church, the ancient bells pealed the call to worship. Such a wonderful, rich sound – it made me cry! We entered the Church for Mass and were able to find seats very close to the altar facing the South Rose Window. This spectacular work or art took my breath away. It happened to be Trinity Sunday, so all I understood of the liturgy was “Dieu, le pere, le fils, et l’esprit,” but the building inspired awe and wonder for God, our creator. My God is a little friendlier and more accessible than the lofty God of medieval times, but the grand architecture and the simplicity of the chanted liturgical music reminded me that I am, indeed, very small. I was very pleased, however, that the organist pulled out all the stops for the recessional. More goose bumps! The powerful instrument filled the rafters with glorious sounds of praise. Alleluia! Alleluia!
After visiting the side chapels of the cathedral and lighting a candle at St. Peter’s Chapel, we began Rick Steves “Historic Paris” walking tour. It began at the south end of the Ile de la Cite at the Deportation Memorial, a tribute to the French victims of the Nazi concentration camps, and continued through Place Du Parvis, a beautiful square fronting Notre Dame. After a brief tour of the Crypte Archeologique (underground ruins beneath the square), the next stop was Sainte-Chapelle, a triumph of Gothic architecture and stained glass built in the 13th Century. You enter the Church at a windowless ground level painted a vivid blue and burgundy trimmed in gold. This apparently, is where the common folk worshipped while their more fortunate employers, masters, etc. praised God upstairs. We ascended a narrow circular staircase to a small chapel walled with tall, multi-colored windows, each painstakingly created to depict stories from scripture. Of course, these stories are written from the medieval point of view, so Egyptians and Israelites bear a close resemblance to King Arthur’s French cousins! The catechist in me was drawn to the small souvenir stand on the side of the Church where I was able to buy a book containing pictures of the windows to share with our RCIA group.
The walk continued past the Palais de Justice to the Conciergerie, the famous French prison and temporary home to some of Paris’ most illustrious citizens. Marie Antoinette was one of the luckier residents, with a large cell and private facilities. It was easy to imagine the horror of such a place and the fear filling the hearts of those destined for the guillotine at the Place de la Concorde a few short miles away!
We rested our feet and filled our tummies at a small park at the north end of Ile de la Cite, watching the French enjoy their Sunday picnics on the lawn. Having completed Rick’s tour, we strolled further along the left bank past numerous book stalls toward Musee D’Orsay, the home of 19th century French Art. This former train station was miraculously saved from demolition in the 1970’s and is a beautiful setting for the works of Manet, Monet, Renoir, Degas and their post-impressionism friends Van Gogh and Cezanne. Since these are my favorite artists, I was in art heaven. What a thrill to see the originals of works that I have only admired in coffee table books. The gift shop was a disappointment, but I guess I saved some francs! Americans really know how to do gifts shops best!
By this time of the day, our tootsies were really burning, so we rested our weary bodies with a late afternoon snooze. Refreshed, we set out for dinner on Ile St. Louis, the small island neighborhood south of Ile de la Cite. Since this is one of the most affluent Parisian areas, the streets and buildings were quite charming and upscale. Since the restaurant Rick recommended had mysteriously disappeared, we continued across a small bridge to the right bank neighborhood of Marais and found a quaint, reasonably priced restaurant in a little square away from the hustle and bustle of the main street. Like most cafes, it was very intimate, and the food, as we are beginning to expect, was wonderful. My salad was filled with unpronounceable goodies (pate and meat, I think) and the lamb was perfectly seasoned and prepared. We burned off the calories with a walk along the right bank to catch a Seine riverboat cruise. The boat ride was a wonderfully relaxing and peaceful end to a very full and memorable day.
Monday morning came much too quickly, after a noisy night in the Hotel Minerve. We were awakened first by a traveling band of gypsies playing guitar down the hall at 1:00 a.m. and an amorous couple next door at 4:00 a.m. The out of ordinary heat wave contributed to our restlessness, so we needed copious amounts of tea and coffee, accompanied by the usual French breakfast of croissants, bread and juice to jump start our motors for another adventurous day.
We braved the Paris Metro toward the L’Arc de Triomphe to begin Rick’s Champs-Elysees walk. We purchased a few books of metro tickets and proceeded through the turnstile and down numerous flights of stairs and passageways to find the appropriate train. It was fun to see all the Parisians scurrying around to their destinations and the corridors were filled with musicians, all with their instrument cases open, hungry for francs. An accordion player serenaded the occupants of our car as we sped through the bowels of Paris toward the world famous landmark. After a brief ride, we ascended the stairs to view the arch. I could imagine the beautiful monument draped in the Nazi flag, but also could see the cheering American soldiers pass through as Paris was liberated.
We climbed to the top to check out the view of the city, but watching the cars jockeying for position on the circular Place Charles de Gaulle was actually more entertaining! Paris wins the award for pushy drivers! The view and subsequent walk down the famous tree lined boulevard, Champs-Elysees, was just how I imagined. The women were not as elegantly dressed as I thought they would be, however. The clothes here are just as ugly as they are in the U.S. – lots of spaghetti straps and clingy knit fabrics in ugly, earthy colors. The French men and women, however, are much more trim and fit. It must be because everyone smokes! The fat people we see are usually British and Americans, easily identified by their sneakers. We burned off our calories by continuing through the Jardin des Tuileries, Paris’ Golden Gate Park, before stopping for lunch at the Carousel shopping mall adjacent to the Louvre. The gardens, filled with Parisians breaking away from their daily routine, were a delightful respite from the heat and noise of the city. I remembered reading about “les fleurs rouges, vertes, et blues” in this garden in my elementary French class many years ago, and wondered what had happened to my Parisian born French teacher, Madame Temple. How quickly one can be transported to another place and time!
A stroll down the Rue de Rivoli led us to the famous and controversial pyramid entrance to the Louvre. With our museum pass we were able to bypass the long line for tickets and proceeded to start of Rick’s “Surviving the Louvre without going in-Seine” tour. Rick led us to the most famous treasures – Mona Lisa, Winged Victory and Venus de Milo in addition to Greek and Roman sculptures and paintings from the Italian Renaissance, French neoclassical and romantic periods. After a while, the naked men all begin to look alike and the paintings take on a blurred Impressionist quality, so we proceeded outside to soak our feet in the fountain and enjoy the beautiful architecture of the square. While this is surely a wonderful place, I think I liked the British Museum in London better!
After a brief late afternoon rest, we decided that a trip to Paris would be incomplete without a stop at the famous Deux Magots café in St. Germain. True to form, Peter ordered a sandwich while I opted for the tomato and mozzarella salad with baguettes. We dined leisurely, eavesdropping on all the surrounding French conversations ( Their secrets are safe – we couldn’t understand a word!) and avoiding a neighboring pooch who liked to wind his leash around his owners café table. That dog understood French! Fortified, we hopped back on the Metro for a trip to the Montmartre to check out Sacre Coeur from Paris’ highest point. The view was delightful, the neighborhood seedy and the park fronting the church was crowded with tourists. Been there, done that. Rick says you need to explore the side streets to get the full flavor of the neighborhood, but sunlight was fading and we were anxious to get back to the Ile de la Cite, sit by the river and wave at all the illuminated tour boats cruising up and down the Seine. The cool breeze and twinkling lights provided a calm and peaceful ending to another full day.
We woke up Tuesday feeling more rested than ever. A few metro stops led us to the Musee Rodin, a lovely estate house once occupied by the famous sculptor. The beautiful home and spacious, quiet and cool gardens house his most famous works, including The Kiss, The Thinker, The Gates of Hell and the Burghers of Calais. It was fascinating to examine the working models of these and his lesser works, in addition to portraits from his life. Across the street is Louis IV’s great monument to himself, Hotel des Invalides. The glittering golden dome room of the church reminded at the center of the complex reminded me of San Francisco’s City Hall. I think it might, in fact, have been patterned by this famous church. Like so many of the historic buildings in Parish, the exterior and interior were extraordinary. I’m glad that we’re taking lots of pictures and buying postcards, as I could never fully describe how decorative and ornate these sites are. In contrast, the modern buildings are cold, drab, gray and lifeless – steel boxes surrounded by gardens of concrete. Makes you wonder what happened to all the good architects and craftsmen!
Once inside the domed area of the church, we descended stairs behind the altar toward the crypt to take a closer look at Napoleon’s tomb. The red tomb houses a number of coffins and stands on a green base about 15 feet high in the center of a marble floor. Quite an impressive site for such a little guy! The names of his victorious battles are inlaid on the floor and the surrounding alcoves pay tribute to his numerous family members and a few famous war heroes. Since Peter had already seen the War Museum housed in Les Invalides complex and I’m not into weapons, we headed off to Rue Cler near the Eiffel Tower to assemble lunch.
Rather than making a weekly trip to a supermarket, Parisians seek out fresh food from neighborhood shops each day. We took Rick’s advice and perused the bakeries, farm stands and fromageries. With bread, cheese, fruit and drinks, we picnicked under the Eiffel Tower. Yes, it is as romantic as it sounds. I had to pinch myself to believe that it was real! Since the lines to the top of the tower were very long, we decided to come back at a later time for the trek up to the top. Another Metro ride and elevator led us to the top floor of Le Samaritaine Department Store for a more intimate look at Paris from above. A city map circled the lookout point, so we were able to pick out all the landmarks which had become familiar to us. After dinner at a small café on Ile St. Louis (simple salads and sandwiches), we treated ourselves to glaces (French for “sorbets”) and again watched the boats light up the river.
Since soundstages were being set up every few blocks for the Festival de la Musique, Paris summer solstice celebration on June 21, we decided to take our chances and head off to Versailles without hotel reservations – my idea of living on the edge! An all night rock band party seemed daunting after another restless night. We picked up the rental car and, after some tricky maneuvering and handy map reading, found the road leading to the famous Palace. The sky was threatening, and by the time we reached the Versailles parking lot, rain was falling. A quick stop at the Tourist Office confirmed my darkest fear – not a hotel room to be found nearby. We briefly debated driving on, but decided that we’d kick ourselves later if we got this close to the palace and didn’t see it. And what a palace it is! We opted for the tour of the state apartments, which included the royal chapel, the opulent King and Queen’s wings, and the illustrious Hall of Mirrors, sight of the signing of the famous treaty ending WWI and, some say, beginning WWII. Such opulence! I can see why the French got fed up with royalty and revolted! The views from the palace out to the gardens and the grand canal were spectacular. The rain let up just in time for us to prowl around outside. The grounds are beautiful, but still bearing scars from the severe storms of winter, 2000. Much of the areas leading to the Grand Trianon and Petit Trianon, smaller palaces favored by royalty for their intimacy and escape from the activity in the larger palace, were being re-seeded and re-planted. Nonetheless, you could certainly get a flavor for the luxurious life at court, when the biggest challenge of the day was a stroll through manicured bushes plotting royal intrigue!
Our enjoyment of the palace and grounds was somewhat tempered by our anxiety of facing more miles on the road with no bed in sight, but we did manage to have a delightful lunch at a restaurant on the palace grounds. The salad Nicoise and sandwich, served in an outdoor courtyard adjacent to the canal, fortified us for the next stage of our journey. Plan 2 included a stop in Giverny, Monet’s home town, to view the museum and gardens that pay tribute to his artistic genius. No rooms there either, so we headed in the direction of Rouen, further north. An English speaking guardian angel at a roadside rest stop helped orient us to the area and led us to a business person’s special in the suburbs. Nothing fancy, but clean, cheap, and quiet with air conditioning!
After a great night’s sleep and another breakfast of croissants and tea – I’m starting to miss my Cheerios – we headed off toward the Normandy Coast. Instead of taking the direct route on the toll road, we opted for the Routes des Abbayes, a country road that follows the Seine River through forests and lush green countryside from Rouen to the port city of Le Havre. You pass through small towns, farms and the ruins of monasteries and chateaux. We stopped at Abbaye St. George, a lovely 11th century church perched on a hill overlooking the countryside, and Abbaye de St. Wandrille, a 7th century monastery still functioning today. At the mouth of the Seine, opposite Le Havre, lies Honfleur, a charming fishing port and our stop for the night. The delightful little 11th century town, with its cobbled streets, historic buildings and secluded harbor, defines quaint. It has a fairy tale quality - I expected little characters from Brothers Grimm tales to appear out of doorways everywhere. Our hotel, Hostellerie Lechat, was adjacent to the Church square, so were treated to the sound of St. Catherine’s bells on the hour until 9:00 p.m. The town has numerous winding streets filled with shops to explore. As in Paris, I lingered longer at the beautifully displayed food in the bakery windows! The sheltered and intimate harbor is ringed with restaurants, most offering fixed price 3 course meals at very reasonable prices. After much menu reading, we made a restaurant selection and began with moules marinieres, mussels steamed in a garlicky wine stock, and continued with fresh whitefish stuffed with a light salmon filling. We topped off the meal with a crepe, butter and sugar for Peter, chocolate for me. Yummy!! I vowed to get Grandma Hodsdon’s crepe recipe so we could repeat the treat at home. An after dinner walk through a local park brimming with flowers and along the pier at sunset topped off a lovely day.
The church bells rang again at 7:00 a.m., and we were glad to get an early start on our much anticipated tour of the D-Day beaches. Our exploration began at the seaside resort of Arromanches-les-Bains, home of the mammoth prefabricated port installed to supply Allied forces. The wreckage lies just off the beach. The Musee du Debarquement in town features relief maps, working models photographs and military equipment from the invasion. Moving along the coast, we arrived at Omaha Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery. It was quite moving to look out over the water from the cemetery grounds and imagine the horror that took place on that wide stretch of sand. I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for all the brave men who trampled through that water and sand to the top of the hill. We spent quite a bit of time walking among the simple marble crosses and Stars of David, reminded of the pain that accompanied each loss. The grounds are meticulously maintained, a real tribute to those who lost their lives, and there is a sense of reverence and quiet peace. The chapel bells break the silence on the hour, honoring each branch of the armed services. I fought back tears as I stood amidst the monuments, listened to the Navy theme song and watched the American flag waving.
Further along the coast, we arrived at the jagged cliffs of Pointe Du Hoc. Here lie the remains of German pillboxes blown to bits by a team of Americans who scaled the cliffs to secure the point. The scars of war are still visible, and Peter was in army man heaven, having lots of fun exploring the ruined bunkers and descending into the bomb craters.
A 12 mile drive through the Norman countryside, famous for apples and dairy products, led us to the medieval town of Bayeux. It is filled with timbered houses, stone mansions, cobblestone streets and lots of American tourists. It is also home to the most famous tapestry in the world, the Bayeux tapestry, a 230 foot long, 20 inch wide embroidery that tells the story of the conquest of England by William the Conqueror. The French really love this story, and the have devoted a large building and modern museum explaining the history of the tapestry (with models and a film show) and displaying the tapestry itself. The story is marvelously depicted in 58 scenes and 8 colors.
The Bayeux Cathedral, William’s church, is a short walk from the museum and is another Gothic marvel miraculously spared the destruction of the invasion. The organist happened to be practicing when we visited, so we were treated to an impromptu concert. I was in music heaven – the organ produced a full, rich sound that you rarely hear anymore. I love David Haas and contemporary Catholic song, but traditional Catholic music really shines in these old churches!
A stroll down the narrow streets filled with ancient, timbered storefronts whet our appetite for dinner. Our restaurant featured one of the most interesting methods of cooking and serving foods that I have ever seen. A piping hot stone was delivered to a neighboring table, along with dipping sauces and a plate of bite sized pieces of uncooked meat, chicken and fish. Diners take a piece, slap it on the stone, grill it to the desired doneness and dip in sauce. We could never see this happening in the U.S. – too much concern over health standards and liability. But it was lots of fun to watch and, from what we could see, enjoyable for diners too. As you can imagine, at some point the stone cools off so that it doesn’t cook anymore, and a new stone is requested. Given the propensity of the French for leisurely dining, you could go through a lot of stones! We left the cooking of our steak to the chef. After all, we’re on vacation!
It was up early on Saturday morning to catch the train from Caen, about a 30 minute drive from Bayeux. We arrived at Gare St.-Lazare in Paris and took the Metro over to Gare de Lyon to catch the TGV to Provence. All went like clockwork – I marvel at the reliability and comfort of the French trains – and we settled into our seats for the 550 mile journey to Avignon. When the TGV finally breaks out of the city and settles into high gear you feel like you’re taking off in a jet. But you’re not in a plane!! Hooray!! It was such fun to see the landscape speed by and change dramatically from the north to the south. I read my trashy novel and dozed, feeling quite refreshed when we arrived after our 3-1/2 hour ride. A brief, 16 mile car trip led us to the sleepy little town of St. Remy de Provence, birthplace of Nostradamus and temporary home of Van Gogh. Our hotel, Vallon de Valrugues, was a sumptuous 4 star splurge, complete with beautifully appointed rooms, color coordinated Provence style fabrics, luxurious pool and grounds and a world renowned restaurant. The warm sun and a dip in the pool were refreshing after the cool and damp of the Normandy coast.
Anxious to sample the Provencal cuisine made famous by Peter Mayle’s best selling books, we settled at our table in the patio restaurant. It was a little windy, but the sky was a lovely shade of lavender-blue and the moon was just rising over the trees. All sorts of stewards, waiters and miscellaneous restaurant personnel were available to attend to our every need. We needed quite a bit of help translating the menu, as this was a more sophisticated place than we’re used to, and each item took two lines of French print to describe. We didn’t order anything but the main course, but many small courses were delivered to our table with a style and grace
To start, we received a plate with six small appetizers – cheese stuffed baby tomatoes, a large flat crouton spread with an olive tapenade, and something else I can’t remember but was very tasty. A small glass dish of cauliflower cream followed. For the main course, Peter selected rabbit, which was accompanied by an olive sauce and mashed potatoes that had been shaped into perfect circles, dipped in crumbs and deep fried. The pigeon that I ordered was served with petite vegetables and sautéed mushrooms en croute. Everything was marvelous, but terribly rich and filling. As we dined, a wonderful basket of assorted breads was constantly refilled. We declined the cheese course - a plate of selections from a cart of over 30 cheeses, but managed to stuff down the 10 tiny dessert samples placed on a three tiered serving dish. We had to negotiate who got what - Peter chose the fruit goodies and I grabbed anything chocolate. We were stuffed!!
It was not just the food, however, that was so memorable. The entire 2-1/2 hour meal was a gastronomic experience, carefully orchestrated and choreographed by an experienced, professional staff who shuffled forks, dishes, glasses, serving platters and food with great ease and pomp. I was reminded of the scene from Hello Dolly when all the waiters at the Hermione Gardens dance with trays on their heads! Peter and I felt a little like Cornelius and his date – we’re more the Roberto’s Taco Shack kind of people. But I could get used to this anytime! We rolled back to the hotel room and easily fell asleep, but I was awakened at 2:00 a.m. when Peter raced to the bathroom. I followed at about 2:02 a.m., paying the price for my overindulgence. Now I know why they eat the cheese…. a one hundred dollar dinner down the drain! We laughed, took a lot of Pepto Bismol and hoped for some uninterrupted sleep. I promised to stick with baguettes from for the rest of the trip.
Feeling a little groggy from our lack of sleep and queasy from our extravagant meal, we opted for a light breakfast and walk down the main street of St. Remy before heading back to Avignon to tour the Palais de Papes, headquarters of a schismatic group of cardinals who came close to toppling the authority of the popes in Rome back in the 14th century. The guided tour leads you through the stark, stone rooms of the palace. It was hard to imagine the renegade curia living in luxury here. The museum was quite interesting, full of artifacts from the occupation.
After lunch in a square adjacent to the palace, we headed off toward Aix-en-Provence, 50 miles south of Avignon. The spectacular views of the countryside and mountains (known as the sub-Alps) explain why the region attracted artists such as Van Gogh, Gauguin and Cezanne. Artists and tourists continue to flock to the area and there were many cars on the road, even for a Sunday. Our navigational system has worked well so far. I enjoy reading the maps and plotting out the route and Peter likes doing whatever I tell him to do! Since I have a good sense of direction and he’s a great driver, our road travel has been remarkably easy. The roads are in good condition and very well marked. The experience driving rotaries in Boston has also been helpful.
No one, however, prepared us for the streets of Aix-en-Provence. They must have been designed when the town was founded in 122 B.C., and most are one-way and about one car wide. No SUV’s in this town! Like the streets, our hotel room was quite small, barely enough room for the bed and our two suitcases. We’re learning the true meaning of expressions such as “cozy,” “quaint,” “historic,” and “Old World charm.” Who wants to stay in a cookie-cutter chain hotel anyway?!! The Hotel de Quatre Dauphins was full of Americans, so we left our completed English paperback books in the lobby for our fellow countrymen to enjoy.
Once settled, we explored the main street of town and grabbed a light dinner. When Peter discovered that French hamburgers are topped with a cooked egg, he quickly ordered the Salad Nicoise. He then created a Salad Americaine by picking out the olives, eggs, tomatoes and anchovies. What an adventurous guy! I stuck with bread – the stomach was still churning!
After further exploration of the shops and side streets of Aix, we took the back roads through the countryside to the town of Arles, founded by the Greeks in the 6th century, B.C. Julius Caesar established a Roman colony in Arles, and the remains of his rule dominate the town. We toured the Theatre Antique and the Amphitheater, built in the 1st century, and explored the side streets and shops. Good were cheaper here than in other towns, so I had fun shopping for postcards and traditional Provencal items such as lavender, herbs and fabrics. Amidst the ancient ruins of the town, we stumbled upon the Golden Arches, delighted to wolf down some predictable American food. Isn’t it funny how McDonald’s is so tasty when you’re in a foreign country!! Maybe we just needed the reminder of home, but that cheeseburger was the best they’ve ever made! An after lunch stroll by the Rhone River completed our tour of Arles.
We’ve slowly adjusted to the French habit of eating a late dinner, and decided to check out the Café Deux Garcons, famous haunt of Provencal writers and artists. It’s located on Cours Mirabeau, under construction and not one of the loveliest streets in Europe as described by Frommer. The postcards, however, look great, and the restaurant was quite a lively spot to people watch. We stuck with another simple meal, beef for Peter and lamb for me. A woman at a neighboring table put away an entire appetizer, salad, basket of bread, entrée, dessert and bottle of wine. How does she sleep at night with all that food rumbling around down below?!!
On the toll road through the mountains to the Riviera, we finally spotted the fields of lavender and sunflowers that are the symbols of the region. It was quite a sight to see the tall flowers standing up so straight, facing the sun. Makes me wonder, what do they do at night? I had expected to find these fields on the country roads, and we laughed at the irony of seeing them from the not-so-freeway. We were surprised that many of the main roads require a few francs tossed in a basket Mass Pike-style. Not a single guidebook mentioned the tolls. We arrived at Cannes around lunchtime and strolled the Promenade de la Croisette along the beach near the Palais des Festivals, home of the annual Cannes Film Festival. It was easy to imagine the red carpet and limos dropping off the stars at the main entrance. We picked up some lunch from a beachside food stand, people watched, and gazed at the deep aquamarine Mediterranean Sea. I kept expecting to see James Bond chasing an Algerian terrorist down an exotic street, but alas, the most exciting sight was a few topless sunbathers. Pretty leathery chicks!
After another look at our trust Michelin map, we set off along the coast to Vence, an ancient village perched about 12 miles up in hills north of Nice. We easily found our home for the next two nights, a small and very charming inn just a short walk from the center of the walled “Vieille Ville” or Old Town. The Hotel Villa Roseraie, a family run establishment, was one of the coziest, cutest places we’ve ever stayed. I needed a woman with me to appreciate the lovely antiques, coordinated Provencal fabrics, French milled soap, bath oils, lace curtains and plush lavender-scented sheets, towels and bathrobes. The owners even decorated the hallways with interesting pieces, including a mantle, a trundle sewing machine, quaint chairs and antique picture frames. Once I stopped ooing and aahhing, we refreshed ourselves in the gardens by the moon-shaped pool. We were struck by how similar the plants in the garden were to the ones at home – honeysuckle, star jasmine, bougainvillea, magnolia. No wonder we felt so comfortable!
The Chapelle du Rosaire is located just a short walk outside the small town. Matisse created this small sanctuary for local Dominican sisters who had nursed him back to health after a serious illness. It’s unremarkable from the outside and rather stark inside except for the walls of sapphire blue, aquamarine and lemon yellow stained glass forming leaves and abstract patterns. An adjacent gallery is devoted to the way Matisse handled the design and construction of the chapel and also contains assorted lithographs and religious artifacts that he created. One of the most interesting features of the chapel is the black and white tile Stations of the Cross, with Matisse’s self-styled tormented and passionate figures.
As we passed through the archways in the old Roman walls surrounding Old Town, we found narrow, steep streets filled with shops, cafes and restaurants. Every few minutes you’d turn a corner and find a lovely small square. Like Aix, many of the squares contained a delightfully original fountains. Sometimes you’d proceed down a narrow lane surrounded by 4 story townhouse type dwellings where window boxes poured with colorful flowers. The quaint, historic streets were marked with plaques describing the area in detail. We found a charming restaurant adjacent to the main town square across from the cathedral and were very pleased to find Italian specialties on the menu. We were beginning to have pasta withdrawal!! Peter dug into spaghetti Bolognese with gusto. I couldn’t resist the “fruits de mer” pizza, chock full of clams, shrimp, mussels, and oysters. Yummy!! We walked off the calories with more exploring of the quaint streets. What a wonderful day!
Wednesday began with a wonderful poolside breakfast of crusty, warm baked bread and croissants, marvelous homemade jams, fresh squeezed juice and cinnamon spiced fruit. As we sipped our coffee and tea and caught up with the daily news via the English language International Herald Tribune, we felt truly relaxed and ready for exploring the Rivera. After a brisk walk through a few Vence shops, we hopped in the car and headed for the road to Nice. Parking was easy to find and we walked along the four mile Promenade des Anglais, a wide avenue fronting the bay and divided by islands of palms and flowers. Fronting the beach are rows of grand cafes and hotels. At the center of town we found a nice beach, plopped down 150 francs for beach paraphernalia (lounge chairs, umbrella and towels) and proceeded to enjoy the view. I liked the deep blue sea and Peter enjoyed the occasional topless sunbather. We dipped our bodies into the surf and found the sea to be a little cooler than we imagined. Since the beach and ocean floor are covered with rocks, our swim was brief. While Peter continued to flake out by the sand, I opted to explore the downtown streets and found lots of gift shops selling postcards and Provencal fabric souvenirs. The entertainment also included lots of pedestrian traffic, numerous noisy cafes and a street corner foursome singing Nirvana songs in French. Quite entertaining! I’m glad we chose to stay in Vence, though, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. We took the beach route along the coast before heading up the hills to our quiet refuge, and got caught in traffic. Who would have guessed that there’s a Rush Hour on the Riviera! Another pasta dinner at an Old Town Vence outdoor café was briefly interrupted by a local pooch begging for snacks. This dog definitely knew where table droppings could be found. The way they love dogs around here, he probably has a standing reservation! Since we had no television and have become caught up in Euro Cup soccer fever, we stopped at a local bar for a nightcap to catch the game. The French goalie is a hunk!
Thursday’s breakfast was even more tasty, with the addition of a wonderful fruity custard apple tart. These leisurely breakfasts are wonderful change of pace for us! We sadly said “au revoir” to the Hotel Villa Roseraie and embarked on our drive through mountains and many tunnels to Monte Carlo. The roads are quite twisty and the French drive very fast – it was nerve wracking. I kept wondering if this was the road that killed Grace Kelly and was relieved when we finally arrived at the glamorous capital of the tiny municipality of Monaco. We wove our way through the narrow, hilly streets filled with exclusive, high-rise condos and apartments precariously perched on the slopes from the mountains to the sea. The town oozes wealth, with its exclusive boutiques and shops, spotlessly clean streets, underground corner crossings fitted with marble, fancy cars, lovely gardens, and extraordinary ocean vistas. A beautifully outfitted, white gloved crossing guard, complete with hat and whistle, was available to help one cross a street no more than two cars wide! The Monte Carlo beach is actually outside the principality, in France, so we decided to check out the yacht harbor instead. Rows and rows of luxurious yachts from all over the world are moored there. Peter found his dream boat, a huge craft complete with jet skis and an airplane. If Motiva ever goes public……
From the outside, the famous Monte Carlo Casino looks just like in the movies. We skipped an inside view since it doesn’t open until 4:00 p.m. and requires a jacket, tie and cover charge. Peter checked out the Salle Americane, an adjacent building housing Las Vegas style slot machines while I perused the menu of an adjacent café. Two hundred francs (about $30) for 2 sandwiches and 2 cokes seemed as steep as the hillsides. Since we hadn’t yet run into any celebrities, we thought we’d head back through the coastal villages to our final Riviera destination, Beaulieu-Sur-Mer. The views of the Mediterranean were spectacular and the cool ocean breeze was refreshing. We found our hotel in Beaulieu with ease, cheered for the air conditioning and explored the town and harbor on foot. A lovely meal at La Pignatelle, a Frommer recommended bistro with wonderful food topped off the day. Our first course, vegetable soup, was delicious and our meals (chicken and beef bourgonon) were simply prepared and very tasty. The beef tasted just like Harvey’s - I must get his recipe. The accompanying vegetables were perfectly cooked and the ice cream & sorbet was a soothing end to the meal.
Friday morning came too quickly, as we stayed up too late watching Italy and Netherlands compete to play France in the Euro Cup final! We returned the rental car in Nice, caught the train to Marseille and transferred to the TGV to Paris. I caught up on sleep during the 3 hour ride and arrived in Paris rested and ready to catch the sights we missed the first time around. After checking into our hotel near the Place Vendome, we walked to the Eiffel Tower to take the ride to the top. The walk was invigorating after riding in a train all day. So was the elevator to Level 2 of the tower! The view from this level was stupendous, in spite of the cloudy day. Good enough for me! Since I was still swaying from the train, I took the stairs down to the street and people watched while Peter proceeded to the top. A final metro ride left us off at the Café de la Paix, a famous Parisian café adjacent to the magnificent Paris Opera. We watched folks dressed in the finest evening wear go by as we munched down wonderful sandwiches and salads. Since we didn’t have tickets or a tux, we treated ourselves to a huge ice cream sundae, filled with bananas, fancy toppings, whipped cream and cherries. A walk around Place Vendome and a peak inside the Ritz Hotel lobby topped off our last day in France.
Now that I am off the plane, have developed the photos and have entered these ramblings in the computer, I am ready to plan the next journey. The problem with going someplace new and exciting is that it increases your hunger to discover more new and exciting places. Stay tuned for more adventures….. and, thanks for listening!