Paris: Day 9

Today, we ran to the Opera for a tour (which was dicounted as we had kept our tickets from D'Orsay). We went unguided because that is far more fun (and also because they have English tours on weekends only). Here we have la Grande Escalier
Upon first entering, we found a mirrored ceiling.

Because we're dorky, I took this photo.

Here is an image of a costume for an opera. I, however, would wear this headress on a daily basis:
Sculpture of a dancer:
We found the opera library, riddled with many manuscripts and scores. If Jim believed in heaven, this would be his.
We liked it so much, we took an extra photo. There were actually two rooms of this.
There were bats on the ceiling.
The whole building was somehow very smelly - urinal cake smelly. I had to step outside onto the balcony for a bit of respite.
After some fresh air, we stepped into one of the open boxes to see the main stage and theatre area. The ceiling is my favourite part.
This is me, enjoying the box and the ceiling.
The main stage.
The other boxes.
The infamous Box #5. It's locked, an no one is allowed in it. One cannot buy tickets for it, either.
The ominous staircase just outside of Box #5. It's roped off, disallowing use.
The angriest doorknob on the planet:
Afterward, we FINALLY had hot chocolate at L'Entract across the street, and it was as good as expected.
We subwayed across town back to the Bastille in search of a market which, after a LOT of wandering, we finally found, sort of by chance. It looked a lot like the St. Lawrence Market back in Toronto; very warehouse and a little scary on the outside, but once inside: paradise. We discovered some of the freshest produce, butchers, fisheries, cheese, and to Jim's delight artisanal beer! Not just any beer, but those that are difficult to impossible to procure in Canada (despite Smokeless Joe's). I selected a cherry beer entitled "Echt Kriekenbier" which later on proved to be sour and fabulous. When Jim tasted, he pronounced it awful, and decided the name was derived from what unsuspecting samplers shouted upon finally being able to swallow. Jim has severe disdain for sour.

I discovered a latent talent for creating and executing elaborate hair styles on myself while strolling through darkened avenues in 5" heels.

Jim and I were rejected from an empty, very chichi french club for no obvious reason other than Jim's abominable accent when speaking french. Thusly, we redirected ourselves back to Cafe Temple (the Marilyn Monroe monument and sanctuary). Here we had champagne and pretzles, and a server who had visited Montreal and love love loved Canadians. We found that they were also showing a monologue of the works of Simone de Beauvoir the following evening at 20h. Since jazz across the way begins at 21h, we could take in both and have a well packed Vendredi soir.

We stumbled the short trip home and fell asleep quickly (as I felt as though I may be coming down with a cold....)

Day trip to the countryside! We took a 30min train ride and saw a LOT of the country between Paris and Versailles. We were meant to get off at "Versailles Rive Gauche"; I saw the letter V and "rive gauche" and pulled Jim off the train.Turns out, I was incorrect.
Luckily, the next train came by in 18mins. So I took some Kerouac-ian photos to fill in the gaps.
Once we got off at the correct stop (which is actually the end of this particular line), we followed the crowd of people (and the signs) to this:
Jim suddenly got all touristy and started snapping photos like a madman.


Yup, ALL the glories. They didn't want to leave anyone out.
Inside the palace chapel:
The Hall of Mirrors:
A surprisingly quiet staircase:
The outdoor amphitheatre:
The Gardens:
We spent the extra to be allowed access to the palace, gardens, and the private estates of Marie Antoinette, who is locally infamous and has become an international intruigue. Here is her kitchen. I love kitchens.
Kitchens are the centre of my life. It is in the centre of my parents' home, my first job was in a kitchen, my favourite apartment had a giant kitchen, and the subsequent home was basically a giant kitchen with a bedroom. It was all stunning.
The estates are like a small dwarfen countryside like one imagines in fairytales - a well, a windmill, cows, sheeps, horses, kitties, gardens still bearing vegetables (peppers, tomatoes, rhubarb). Besides the hamlet, there were wineries, more gardens and a full on farm.
The hamlet:
The Windmill:
The Farmhouse:

The other side of the windmill:
The Farm:

This mysterious door lead to an underground escape hatch from the house.
There were more. I assume this was to avoid possible village riots and mobs with torches and pitchforks.

As in true of most my adventures, there were rocky areas with trees and moss.There were wild blueberries growing along the grounds and I wanted to eat them.
We had dinner at Cafe le Bistro where they will have live jazz on Friday. Our favourite patisserie was closed so we enjoyed some chocolate from the previous day and fell into bed exhausted from a full day of walking Palace grounds.

Paris Day 7

Tuesday morning in Montmartre! We avoided the crazy bracelet men like plague. Traversed a great number of stairs (there is a lift for the differently-abled) to the Basilique Sacre Coeur. From our vantage point we watched various street performers and heard a lot of music. We deemed many of the performers fun, but likely criminal distractions. One of the statue performers was awful; he couldn't stand still if you paid him, and considering that's the point of this gig, he was a pretty huge failure.
On this day we actually went into the huge church, where the requests for silence were most assuredly unobserved. No parishioners collecting donations, but a shocking and frightening number for homeless and less fortunate women crowded the entraces and exits looking desperate and ashamed.

Men with sketching pads were as abundant and Venetian gondoliers. Huge outdoor artist's square featuring completed works and offering charicature and portraits. I still have not found perfect souvenirs for friends, and perhaps I am destined for an absinthe cardholder after all. Discovered wonderful Italian restaurant with relatively reasonable pricing. Learned the existence of an erotic museum and gallery and have promised to make a visit another day. Bought chocolate at Jeff de Bruges.
Spent the evening strolling the Champs Elysees, watching "danse de la rue" (which is exactly what it sounds like) and photographing the arc de triomphe.

Turns out there's a military museum inside the arc. Who knew?
It was closed when we were there.
Still, a beautiful idea, if strange.
Traveling home we encountered a middle aged man in a business suit with exciting socks.
We slept like babies.

Paris Day 6

The day dawned chilly and somewhat dark. Jim and I lost ourselves along Blvd Voltaire on the way to Place de la Bastille. We had coffee at Cafe de la Bastille, whose menu was significantly cheaper than most others we had seen.

La Bastille itself is in the centre of a roundabout, and marks the place where a huge prison used to be. As it was quite cold, we were in a hurry to keep the blood moving. Partway down Rue Henry IV, we were both like, "Oh no, we totally forgot to take a picture of it." So we touristically stopped in the middle of a moderately bustly sidewalk, turned around, snapped a photo, and carried on our merry way.

We continued to stroll down Henry IV and found a pretty park at Pont Sulley. Spent the afternoon strolling along the Seine shopping for art and kitschy gifts.

We lunched at Cafe des Beaux Artes, then wandered back to homebase through Ville St Paul wherein there was a nicely sized english bookstore run by an expat woman from Vancouver. She had named the store "The Red Wheelbarrow" in celebration of the poem by William Carlos Williams.
The vibe of this whole area of town is reminiscent of Leslieville, or Queen West (East of Parkdale). There are lots of young families whose parents sport tongue rings and tattoos, and whose children wear organic cotton clothes created by independent local designers.

My blister is growing.

We visited the Eiffel tower at late night. Clearly Paris is the "City of Lights" for a reason.

Took a great many photos and videos of lights, landmarks, ourselves, and the gnome all having a fabulous time. I spotted a carousel across the street and got all giddy, but it had closed some hours before. So instead, Jim and I made out on a park bench beside the Seine with the Eiffel tower blinking in the background. Total stereotype honeymoon evening.