Paris 2007 -- part 2/5
Apr. 27th, 2007 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lauraanne_gilmanLife Lesson: When a 20+ pound feline decides that you need a morning session of intense hand, arm, and hair-grooming? You stay put and let him groom you. It's just easier, and it makes him happy....
Wednesday:
Overall, the hotel Jeanne d’Arc gets high rating – it’s in the perfect location, the rooms are clean, the bed comfortable (although the pillows were too hard), the bathroom was modern and had great water pressure and enough hot water, the staff was great, and it was only 72 euros a night! However, it is not a place where you can sleep in, since the noise level starts with the kitchen at around 6am. (having a very noisy British family in the rooms across the hall from me didn’t help, either. Yelling “Mum! Let me in!” while you’re standing in the hallway every morning may be acceptable when you’re home, but is particularly bad manners when traveling, child.)
(the hotel at night, very welcoming!)
Since I had no urgent need to rise, with or without shining, I stayed in bed and dozed and read a little (The Witch of Cologne, a historical and quite good and engrossing), then went out to make like the locals and lean against the counter and drink my café and scan the newspapers. And eavesdrop on the conversations, natch. The best way to learn a language is to have an intense curiosity about what other people are saying. Around 9:30 or so I called my sister and arranged to meet her to go see the Lalique exhibit.
It was a smaller display than I had been expecting, but worth the cost of the ticket. Not only were many of his more fabulous pieces on display, but also the sketches that he made in their design and execution, some of which were almost more lovely than the finished work. Getting to see the details was a bit of a challenge, however. In the States, there is a certain museum decorum that dominates. In Paris? Not so much. So after I got stepped on a few times, I took a deep breath, put on my “commuter brain” and plunged in with elbows and shoulders like everyone else.
In the end I lost my heart not to any bit of jewelry (Belle Epoque jewels take a Certain Person to wear them – and what would I do with a tiara, anyway?) but a small, peacock-embossed lamp, in bronze, that probably cost more than I make in a year. Ah well. I can dream.
After, we did some window shopping, and then had lunch. An entrée of fois gras (yes, I know, no I feel no guilt. A little regret, but no guilt) de canard with raisin bread and fig jam (I was a good sibling and shared), and a main of stewed lapin (rabbit). Mmmmm. I didn’t think I’d need to eat again all day, and I was right.
After A. went off to meet up with her boys, I did some more wandering and window shopping in Village St-Paul, which is a specific antiques and arts region set up within the 3rd, which also happens to have some very funky buildings.
I met up with A. and L. later (the kids stayed home) for the wine tasting at O Chateau. Us, a few other Americans (California, Chicago and New York were also represented), a single Frenchman, and a dozen or so tech folk from Ireland, here on a company excursion. So rare that I’m in the bottom percentile of troublemakers in a group, is all I’m sayin….
The wines were local (small producers, not ones that get exported) and they were all good, if not great, but the point was less about the tasting and more about the learning – Olivier was teaching to the newbie level but there was stuff in there I hadn’t heard before, so I had a good time. He and I did have an exchange over the quality of pinot noirs, France vs. Oregon, but in a (mostly) friendly way. He finally conceded that there were different styles of pinot noir and “of the French style, the French were the best.” WhatEHvah, Olivier. *grin* Olivier is a cutie, and very smart, and even if he didn't proudly announce that he played rugby, I'd have figured that out (or, as my sibling said to him, "still single, are you? Can't imagine why....) There was, you may have figured, a lot of Banter during the tasting.
By the time we were done and I got back to the hotel, it was past 8, and I decided to call it a (very) early night. So I read for a while longer, and got (gasp!) a full eight hours of sleep!
Tomorrow: Thursday is for Walking. And Calories.
Wednesday:
Overall, the hotel Jeanne d’Arc gets high rating – it’s in the perfect location, the rooms are clean, the bed comfortable (although the pillows were too hard), the bathroom was modern and had great water pressure and enough hot water, the staff was great, and it was only 72 euros a night! However, it is not a place where you can sleep in, since the noise level starts with the kitchen at around 6am. (having a very noisy British family in the rooms across the hall from me didn’t help, either. Yelling “Mum! Let me in!” while you’re standing in the hallway every morning may be acceptable when you’re home, but is particularly bad manners when traveling, child.)
(the hotel at night, very welcoming!)Since I had no urgent need to rise, with or without shining, I stayed in bed and dozed and read a little (The Witch of Cologne, a historical and quite good and engrossing), then went out to make like the locals and lean against the counter and drink my café and scan the newspapers. And eavesdrop on the conversations, natch. The best way to learn a language is to have an intense curiosity about what other people are saying. Around 9:30 or so I called my sister and arranged to meet her to go see the Lalique exhibit.
It was a smaller display than I had been expecting, but worth the cost of the ticket. Not only were many of his more fabulous pieces on display, but also the sketches that he made in their design and execution, some of which were almost more lovely than the finished work. Getting to see the details was a bit of a challenge, however. In the States, there is a certain museum decorum that dominates. In Paris? Not so much. So after I got stepped on a few times, I took a deep breath, put on my “commuter brain” and plunged in with elbows and shoulders like everyone else.
In the end I lost my heart not to any bit of jewelry (Belle Epoque jewels take a Certain Person to wear them – and what would I do with a tiara, anyway?) but a small, peacock-embossed lamp, in bronze, that probably cost more than I make in a year. Ah well. I can dream.
After, we did some window shopping, and then had lunch. An entrée of fois gras (yes, I know, no I feel no guilt. A little regret, but no guilt) de canard with raisin bread and fig jam (I was a good sibling and shared), and a main of stewed lapin (rabbit). Mmmmm. I didn’t think I’d need to eat again all day, and I was right.
After A. went off to meet up with her boys, I did some more wandering and window shopping in Village St-Paul, which is a specific antiques and arts region set up within the 3rd, which also happens to have some very funky buildings.
I met up with A. and L. later (the kids stayed home) for the wine tasting at O Chateau. Us, a few other Americans (California, Chicago and New York were also represented), a single Frenchman, and a dozen or so tech folk from Ireland, here on a company excursion. So rare that I’m in the bottom percentile of troublemakers in a group, is all I’m sayin….
The wines were local (small producers, not ones that get exported) and they were all good, if not great, but the point was less about the tasting and more about the learning – Olivier was teaching to the newbie level but there was stuff in there I hadn’t heard before, so I had a good time. He and I did have an exchange over the quality of pinot noirs, France vs. Oregon, but in a (mostly) friendly way. He finally conceded that there were different styles of pinot noir and “of the French style, the French were the best.” WhatEHvah, Olivier. *grin* Olivier is a cutie, and very smart, and even if he didn't proudly announce that he played rugby, I'd have figured that out (or, as my sibling said to him, "still single, are you? Can't imagine why....) There was, you may have figured, a lot of Banter during the tasting.
By the time we were done and I got back to the hotel, it was past 8, and I decided to call it a (very) early night. So I read for a while longer, and got (gasp!) a full eight hours of sleep!
Tomorrow: Thursday is for Walking. And Calories.
