Looking back

Kasia was quick to berate me on how abruptly I "ended" my trip/thoughts on the experience. I apologize for the "abrupt" ending. Now that I've had a week and two days back here in the states I still don't know what this trip has meant for me. Certainly it has granted me a much broader world perspective that I previously lacked, granting my hesitant nature a bit more courage and bravado than I once had. It allowed me to reconnect with a special person, Morgane, whom I long assumed I would never see again. Never in a million years would I have guessed the course the trip, and consequently my heart, would take me down. The multitude of coincidences and occurrences that determined the shape my adventure would take confounds me still. Whether this trip will become a catalyst in my future or just a blip in my experiences remains to be seen. The siren song of travel has captured me and consequently the odds are in the catalyst's favor.

Windsor and Wrap Up?

I don't know how to wrap all of this up. I'm on the plane from London to Toronto and I guess it is still too early to have any perspective on all that has occurred these few weeks. My only recourse is to fill you in on the last day in London-
Morgane, myself, Mark, and Emmanuelle I went to Windsor Castle and then had a traditional Sunday afternoon lunch at a Pub before heading back into London. to visit Harrods/Laduree. I was also treated to a car tour of London as we drove Mark back to his flat. He's Australian and not been in London for very long but was able to give interesting commentary on the city's sights as we drove by them. The evening as spent quietly between the sisters and I over Italian food, talking of politics and "the state of the world today." Before I knew it I was in the air on my way home, wishing I had more time.

London

My first day back in London was lazy to say the least. We stayed up too late and then had to catch early trains the next morning. Morgane's was 35 minutes or so after mine and was then delayed an 1 1/2 at the Chunnel. Once she got in it was after 11. We set off for her sister's place and spent the next few hours napping, eating lunch, and napping more before finally setting out to find a cafe. As we walked around the neighborhood (west Kensington) Morgane of course picked the one wine bar (no English Pub?!). After an hour or so we walked back to the flat where Emmanuelle (her sister) and Mark (sisters BF) were waiting on us. After the initial formalities etc we all set off for dinner at Gazette.
Saturday-
The pattern continues. Got up late, had lunch at a pub (my first fish and chips left something to be desired), then walked by Westminster Abbey (which was closed), around Parliament Sq, and past Whitehall to Trafalgar Sq where the skies opened up on us. Hustling in to the National Gallery we quickly realized that a lot of people had the same idea to take advantage of the free museum to stay dry. Despite the somewhat noisy crowd I found the gallery to be a very pleasing museum. I was able to see several masterpieces from the likes of Botticelli, All the ninja turtles (sans Donatello), Rubens, Velásquez, Goya, etc. My favorite by far was a fairly striking yet simple portrait by (to me) and unknown artist, Bartolome Esteban Murillo's portrait of Don Justino Deneve.
After strolling through the gallery for some time we decided to head towards St. Paul's. Luckily the rain had stopped and we were able to get into the Cathedral. I had bad luck with churches in London. Westminster was closed and St. Martin-in-the-fields was closed until fall for renovations, so I was 1 for 3, which wouldn't have been bad if sightseeing were baseball. After St. Paul we headed to Green Park to enjoy the "sun"--I say sun because it was periodically counter balanced by powerful gusts of wind. After sitting in the park reading, the cold became to much for my Austin bones and we headed back to the flat.
Emmanuelle and Mark had been at a tennis tournament all day and were crashed out. Morgane and I followed suit. Upon waking up I couldn't believe it was 10PM--the sun still plays tricks. We ordered Chinese food and watched a movie.

Wednesday thru Friday AM

If I had to suggest seeing one museum in Paris that has the perfect balance (great works of art but not as crowded as Louvre etc) it would be the Rodin Museum. The majority of the works are Rodin but there are also quite a few works from his lover, Camille Claudet. The collection also boasts a spattering of paintings from masters like Van Gogh, antiquity pieces from Rodin's personal collection, and a surprisingly vast (and lurid) collection of Japanese works. The "major" highlights are two "Thinker" statues (one small inside and one large statue in the gardens) and one of the "Gate to the Inferno" (I saw one of the others at the Orsay). We've been having bad luck with museums. Rodin was closed on Monday when we tried to visit initially and the Catacombs had already closed when we tried to go Wed after Rodin.
Thursday-
After lunch Morgane and I headed to the Catacombs--big let down. Bunch of bones and some info on the old quarry and the personages now lost in the bones. I was hoping for info geared towards the resistance since the Catacombs were used as their hideout in WWII.
Next we went to the Pantheon-vast improvement on the Catacombs. After whiling away an hour on the steps of the Pantheon, eating an orange and taking in the view of the Eiffel Tower, we met up with Zoe. As we were leaving the Pantheon we decided to sneak into the cathedral adjacent to the "Civil Structure." I was ambivalent about seeing the inside of this church and shouldn't have been. Never have I been so pleasantly delighted by a church as I was St. Etienne's. Since I'm so fond of ranking things I would venture to say that it was my favorite church/cathedral I had the privilege of seeing in my travels thus far. We stopped at an intersection just around the corner from the church that was bustling with cafe's--3 on one paved peninsula and 1 opposite--and had a couple of drinks. We were interrupted midway by a street performer belting out sub par renditions of "French Classics." This naturally led to another round to brace ourselves against the musical onslaught. Our move was parried by the performer. A Boris Yeltsin look alike, apparently a close associate of the singer, had wandered up and succeeded in taking over the mike for a treacherous translation of "House of the Rising Sun." Eric Burdon was crying somewhere. Boris had unknowingly given us our signal for an exit and thus encountered a new found peace walking the streets of Paris that no manner of honks and speeding scooters could destroy.
After a quick bus trip to Place D'Italie, we wandered the tight lanes in search of an appropriate place to eat--never have I encountered a more fickle pair when deciding on a restaurant. One restaurant had a bad typeface on their menu, one was too sparsely populated, one had bad decor--on a previous evening they had deigned to inform the proprietor of "Scoop Cafe" that he should have gone with a more muted sign rather than the neon he chose. In the end we finally settled on an Italian restaurant. The food was delicious, ambiance with out par, and the neighborhood my favorite thus far perhaps (It also had the added distinction of being the lone restaurant in Paris that is non smoking). The neighborhood once was a poor area but has since become re-gentrified and I suppose "hip." It found a balance between lively activity and a sense of small town charm. As the subway headed back towards the flat off Villiers I caught my last glimpse of the Eiffel Tour ablaze in light. Thus ended my last night in Paris.
Friday Morning-
I had half a mind to recreate my first night in Paris by making the walk up to Montemarte--one last panorama of the captivating city. As I walked to the station with Morgane Friday morning, I cast a glance over my shoulder as the Cathedral on the hill and knew I was right not to revisit before I left. Perhaps one day I'll be back in Paris and in a fit of melancholic nostalgia I will make my way up the hill in the vain hope of realizing the ecstasy once achieved. Until then, Paris is wrapped in a protective case and will remain ever glorious in my memories.

Recap of Sunday through Tuesday

The last day or so have been a whirlwind of sorts. Before I start in on all of that let me note something about the Slovene cave ride that I forgot to mention earlier. I was very amused by their safety regulations, i.e. their lack of regulations. As I was ducking low overhangs while riding the train I imagined what it would be like if this were in the States. We probably would have been wearing seat belts, helmets, and had to have signed a waiver before getting into the caves. In Slovenia you just pay for your tickets and they trust/expect you to pay attention and not be a dumb ass.
After finishing with Slovenia, what to do next was the biggest question. Dubrovnik, the destination I wanted to visit the most was too far out of the way (at least two days overland). I was at an impasse. So, I wen to the station and caught a train that headed north through Bled into pastoral Austria and then from there west into Germany and onto Munich. Munich was a blur. Nothing against anyone who adores Germany (I found the landscape gorgeous). It just doesn't pique me at all. After getting into Paris early Monday morning the majority of the day was spent recovering from the pace of the past few days. Tuesday was Versailles-enormous. We went through the Chateau's tour, out around the gardens, had a picnic in Marie Antoinette's domain, and then explored her compound and pretend village. It was interesting and I'm glad I went but my enjoyment was tempered by my utter disdain for crowds (and the idiotic things they take pictures of). After getting back to the flat I tried to make chocolate chip cookies for Morgane but amidst the conversions (Celsius, grams, etc) lack of brown sugar, and no measuring cups something was lost. They were average and edible though far from pretty and reminded me more of muffins than anything.

London

I've been slacking, I know. I hope to be able to update y'all on the last week of my travels before I leave. Its weird but Slovenia was more ''wired'' than France. Morgane says that they like to keep the "technology" separate from their day to day activities/life which I have to respect. She also lamented the Starbucks phase that is picking up there. People think its cool to walk around with their coffee like they see in movies and TV, which I guess makes a slight dent in the cafe culture. Anyways, Im still alive and in London. I think I'm going to the beach tom. with Morgane and her sister.

Blue Highways

Let me preface this post a bit. 1) Dad you might want to get out your atlas. 2)Witty I wish you could have been behind the wheel for this portion of the trip, you would have loved it. 3) Kasia, I love you but I'm really glad you weren't behind the wheel...fifty fifty shot we would have died. Now that that is out of the way, I will begin.
I was able to rent a car this morning and drove south from Ljubljana to the Postojna cave system. I missed the 10AM tour and had to wait until 11AM, thus setting my packed day back an hour. The cave system was awe inspiring-the little trains carting you through most of the way not so much. Felt like I was riding the kids train at Creekmore Park. Despite that "they were beautiful caves" (the English speaking guide kept talking about the "beautiful caves" and "this is the most beautiful part of the beautiful caves").
Unlike the rest of my group, the majority of whom were German and Italian, I bypassed the tacky souvenir shops and headed down the road to the Predajma Castle. It was a veteran move. I beat the shopping crowd and was able to take in the castle with ease. I know I overuse the superlative "amazing" here a lot but this castle was amazing. Built into the side of a mountain it was virtually impenetrable.
As I was leaving the castle I, like Mr. Frost, came to a fork in the road. I could back track the way I came in or take the cliched road less traveled. I opted for the latter (thank the lord) and it made my day/trip--for the time being. I was immediately engulfed by trees on all sides and a nice vertical drop to my left. I maneuvered through the mountain road which quickly became a gravel path. Soldering on, I passed dozens of cut trees on the road side and rock slide warnings. Just at the moment I was beginning to worry, God gave me pavement.
I made it back to civilization--Slovene remnants of it at least--and then onto a normal two lane highway. After heading north by northeast to get back to a "normal" road, i.e. one on my map, I set back towards the northwest along the Idrija River Valley and up into the Soca River Valley. I continued along the same bearing towards the Italian/Austrian border and then hooked back to the northeast through Triglav National Park. Along the way I found several answers for those who claim you cant find heaven on earth. Tackling Ole Three Heads (Triglav) was a task. There are 50 combined switchback turns coming up and down the mountain. The turns themselves weren't so bad, it was the scads of bikers--Bikers of both sort, cyclists and Harley lovers. There are about 2 mil people in Slovenia and I would put money on them having the highest per capita motorcycle ridership/ownership of any nation. I probably saw upwards of 500 in my 6 or 7 hours on the road. Its rare, for me at least, to see natural water the color of aqua. These rivers in Slovenia are exactly thus, the very definition of aqua.
In many ways this area of the Julian Alps reminded me of Montana--by far my favorite state for scenery--rapids, fly fishing, kayakers. The level of proximity with the mountains around you (and their majesty) almost makes my memory of Montana pale in comparison (I would place the drive today at #2 on the trip thus far, behind the 1st view from Montemarte/night in Paris). The land was perfect for driving--mountain passes, straightaways along the river--everything a gear head could want. If I was excited about it, I cant imagine the level for someone like Witty or Hottie--and definitely explains the high amount of motorbiking.
After descending the mountain I headed east towards Bled. Standing on the shore of Bled looking out over the lake is one of the more picturesque sights available. Looking back the other way is not so lovely. That is the crux of my problem with Bled. It has a gorgeous view-a church on an island in the middle of a lake, a castle on a mountain overlooking the lake, traditional boats called Pluenta for transporting people to the island. All of which brings it to as close to picture perfect as possible. The town itself however is overgrown with tired, word communist era "resort" buildings and tacky shops.
I went for the church and its lore. It has 99 steps leading up the hill where the church sits. The tradition holds that a husband must carry his bride up the steps if he is to be thought fit to marry (I was lucky to catch the tail end of a wedding today while there). I'm told that few actually succeed (or attempt) the feat these days. There is a free standing bell in the middle of the church before the altar that, upon making a wish, you ring the bell and your wish will come true. Ive made mine, it doesn't involve the Cubs winning the world series but Ill let you know how it turns out.
So, Bled was a bit of a let down but I made it back in one piece, saw what I wanted to and all with time to spare for a small dinner and a cold Union. Ive finished with Slovenia and will head out tomorrow. Where depends on the trains.

Ljubljana Day 2

After walking around this morning I found the Tourist Info office and secured another hotel room for the evening at Park Hotel. A bit further from the city center than Id like but it beats paying another 50euro at a nicer place. It reminds me of Jester.
I had lunch at Ribca, a fish place located right next to the fish market, overlooking the Sava River. Sarah would have freaked out if she was here. I ordered smoked trout with horseradish and rucola. They brought the entire fish, eyeballs and all (I'm trying not to make eye contact. It unnerves me a bit too). Despite the initial shock/chuckle, I peeled back the scales and devoured the best trout Ive had.
Hope of hopes, the sun is coming out. I will be walking up the mountainside to the city's castle-hopefully burning through the massive lunch.
The town seems to be filled with visitors. Ive overheard maybe a dozen native English speakers-the rest seem to be Slovenes and the ever prominent black footed sandal wearers.
I figured out what was going on in the main square yesterday, they were giving away a car to whoever could keep touching it the longest.
Sadly, I was able to stumble on the most strenuous path up to the castle. Huffing and puffing I made it up the mountainside, wondering the entire way how in the world this castle could ever be taken by an invading army. Turns out it hasn't. They successfully repelled the Ottomans and a peasant rebellion. The castle (and esp. the view) was amazing. On my way down I found the second easiest path up (the first being a tram). It is surprising how quickly one is surrounded by the woods--in a matter of steps you could convince yourself into thinking you were in the country. After resting a bit in the woods I cont. my walk through the city to see one of their architectural masterpiece's. This city is an architectural jewel. No architect has shaped a town/city as much as their native son, Joze Plecnik. After visiting the national and university library building I walked through one of the more serene and verdant sections of town to see his home. The museum inside is apparently top notch but closed on Fridays.
I was caught up in a late afternoon rain storm and was able to make it to the TI-burning an hour on the internet and getting a road map. I hope to rent a car tomorrow. I am planning on heading to Bled, a lakeside town, After a night and partial day there I will be making a drive through Triglev Natl Park, over the national mountain, and down the Soca River Valley. Most likely stopping at a small town for the night somewhere. Then I will head to see a cave system and a castle built into a cliff side. Then I will either drop the car off or begin a drive back towards Paris.
Tonight for dinner, once the rain stopped, I ambled down the now familiar streets to a place serving traditional Slovenian food. I started with an assorted wild mushroom soup and should have stopped there, it was in a sesame bread bowl and big enough for a meal. I had a hamburger like ground beef patty covered in some sort of Slovene sauce. My first non English speaking Slovene Ive met was my waiter tonight and mixed up my side order so I ended up with fries that I hardly touched. I drank a local rose colored win called Cvicek that is quite good. What is a Lewis vacation without too much food?

Ljubljana--A wet wander

Finally made it. Light sprinkle when I disembarked and walked towards my hotel. I say "towards," I ambled along in a fairly correct general direction. After a good 15 minutes or so of wandering I found the hotel with the help of some waiters. Of course it was booked solid through the 14th. A panic made my stomach flop--I was truly worried. I passed two different outdoor festivals during my walk. The receptionist was able to get a room at my second choice--I had 15 minutes to get there. I did this successfully, passing a huge line for another concert along the way. I hadn't showered in 36hrs so that took priority over food (a first, I know). I'm going to be forced to find a different lodging tomorrow night because my hotel is booked solid. Thats a problem for tomorrow--tonights work includes a large Union pivo (beer) and a pizza. The Union is crisp and clean, just like Chill likes them, and the pizza is amazing. The different names for pig products across borders is mind boggling. Pepperoni=bacon in Slovenia, FYI. So, I have a bacon pizza with oregano, basil, and oil--not sliced, just one flat pie. Weird combination? Maybe but it is great.
The English of everyone Ive met so far has been excellent--Which naturally works out for me since my Slovenian is admittedly weak. My travel guide said to expect as much (in terms of English proficiency) but even with the forewarning I'm amazed at the excellent speech. It helps that the majority of television stations are in English with subtitles. The jukebox at the bar has been playing a steady diet of American music--from the Fugees to Percy Sledge.
The city seems full of young people and hearing them speak their native tongue mystifies me--I think I can say honestly Ive never heard Slovene spoken until today.
Despite the initial mist getting of the train, the night has been sublime. A slight breeze tempering the mild evening with just the right chill. As I write this I jinxed the evening and with it my plan for a riverside walk. After initially letting up, the rain has continued again with a new force and bade me to stay dry under the awning for one last pivo--the golden word across Eastern Europe.
I'm cold and wet after my walk back to my hotel--an unseen band is into its encore outside my window somewhere towards the river--there is life everywhere and Ive got the bug. I'm in love with Ljubljana.

Venice to Ljublana--Like totally

The endless ennui of waiting at the Venice station finally ended. What I saw of Italy this morning I didn't like--graffiti everywhere and rundown. This leg, after backtracking out of Venice and looping north, has been nothing short of gorgeous. My quiet enjoyment is tempered by confusion and annoyance. I'm having a hard time figuring out why there is a large group of college kids heading to freaking Ljubljana, Slovenia. A big factor in this destination was the fact that its off the beaten path. Ive never heard "like" so many times in my life. Four girls are directly behind me all talking over one another in a cacophony of competing inanities.
What is worse--the constantly jabbering mother and grandmother (in what I guess is Hebrew) or these girls? At least the "like" girls are staying put--the other pair was constantly moving around. I escaped to an empty pack of seats, leaving a poor old man to deal with them himself. One hell for another I guess.
Earnest Hemingway drove an ambulance along the Soca River Valley front during WWI, eulogizing it forever in A Farewell to Arms. As the train chugs along through the lower Alpine forests and along mountainside curves offering breathtaking valley views, it reminds me somewhat of the drive on 540 to NWA. Thoughts of Hemingway and home offer a little respite from the no longer sober group of girls.

Paris to Venice--The morning and the wait

The rain has found me again. Gray skies and a light mist covering Milan make it hard for me to believe this is a center for fashion. The ramshackle buildings and rusted machinery remind me more of Gary, Indiana than Italy.
Ive found an empty compartment. Richard and his girlfriend returned last night and are still asleep. I slept fitfully again--The "bed" wasn't too bad in and of itself. Throw in loud snoring by Allocene the majority of the night, two of her random bag inspections, and you have a recipe for lack of sleep. Now I'm somewhat worn, irritable, and less than hygienic praying for a short stopover in Venice en route to Ljubljana. I'm very fearful of a 7 or 8 hour wait.
Reached Venice just before 10AM--Long train ride made worse by lack of sleep and getting up early to see the cant miss view. Well you can miss it. I was extremely let down. Maybe the sun needs to be shining for its "magnificence" to be appreciated.
My train doesn't leave for Ljubljana until 345PM, which would give me time to see the major sights if it weren't raining. So I sit with heavy eyes watching the clock tick by.

Paris to Venice--Varying degrees

Ive never been more uncomfortable in my life. After saying my goodbyes (for the week at least) to Morgane and Zoe I boarded the train for Venice. My compartment was booked to capacity, with nary an English speaker amongst them, which made me nervous. Then the last passenger in our compartment arrived wanting someone to switch with his friend so they could sit together. I figured what the hell, how could it get worse than the mixed cast I had? No freaking A/C is exactly how. Holy crap. Ive never been one to tolerate heat when stationary for five minutes much less a 12hr train ride. Why not switch back? I'm in a virtually empty cabin--Virtually sans Allocene?--a very large woman from the Ivory Coast prone to muttering under her breath and constantly rearranging her sacks of food containing god knows what. I think there is another passenger in our cabin too--British with adequate French, named Richard. He has rightly avoiding the cabin like the plague.
So far the passing scenery has been placid and idyllic. We've been following a river the majority of the way, name unknown. Ill have to find a decent map. I'm embarrassed by my lack of knowledge in regards to Europe's natural geography. My French history has been found above par--somehow besting my Parisian guides and stumping them often with my questions (of which I ask a lot, and are "weird" at that). We've been reassured twice that the AC was working now--I can hear it churning and though it seems to be getting cooler (or I am acclimating) its a slow process.
I wish I was more impressed with the scenery--there is nothing striking and Im kept wondering at every river and field what significance each particular plot had in WWII.
Allocene has raised her couchette. Shes been lying there for 15 minutes staring up into the corner of the cabin, lost in thought. She doesn't speak English and her accented French leaves me blank. So I'm left to ponder her story. Where is she going, what has she seen, what has she been adding with her calculator, and what the hell does she have in the dozen rucksacks?

Paris to Venice--D DAY

I'm taking a train to Venice tonight at 8PM. Supposed to take 12hrs. I think I'm more nervous about this portion of my trip than any other. Ive ventured somewhat into the "unknown" thus far but I take the next step tonight. Ive relied on Morgane in steering me around, ordering food, etc and now the crutch will be cast aside. Hopefully I wont fall. Venice will be a short experience. I'll spend a day and a night there then hopefully be off again to Slovenia. I was informed by the ticket lady yesterday to be sure to wake up an hour before arrival because the view crossing the lagoon isn't to be missed.
Yesterday was spent in much the same fashion as my other days. The spot of leisure was the "Jardin des Plantes." We bought Turkish sandwiches (very similar to Gyros), which was another gourmand first. The "chef" has a giant hunk of lamb hanging up under a heat lamp. After preparing the bread, condiments, and vegetables he shears off larges pieces of lamb for each sandwich. Between the sandwich and the fries (I think they are more popular here than the states) it could have fed two. Ventured to the cinema again last night to see a French movie/musical called the "Chansons des Amours." It was kinda tough to follow along verbatim but I enjoyed it. Wonderfully shot and definitely French. It was pretty cool seeing a bunch of places I'd been to during my time here.
The extent of my time in Slovenia will be dependent on how much I enjoy it (I guess that is obvious). I really want to visit Dubrovnik but it is somewhat difficult to get to so I might have to save that experience for another time. My train back to London leaves Paris on Friday the 15th. I'll be getting back into Paris on Thursday, then Zoe and Morgane might join me in London for the weekend. I guess that is as close to an itinerary as I can get for those curious.

Paris Day 6 cont. & 7--Lazy river

I ended up having some serious family time Sunday. After having the mother's day meal we (Morgane, Zoe, Eva and I) made the trek out into the country side to Eva & Zoe's parents house, who had apparently just made it back into town earlier that afternoon. I was regaled with another amazing home cooked meal and plenty of jabbering in French that was virtually impossible to follow (the lone exception being Jacqueline, the grandmother, who had exquisitely methodical and clear diction which allowed me to keep up with her portion of the conversation). I was also not informed of the fact that we would be sharing another family dinner, so I had already changed out of the "nice clothes" I had on into an ultimate jersey (my knowledge of activities is not on the high priority for these ladies unless I specifically ask they prefer to surprise me...which has its positives too) and felt...under dressed to say the least. Zoe is somewhat of a capricious instigator so she really enjoyed giving me a hard time about my choice of clothing for a nice dinner. We finally started heading back to Paris after midnight (I think Ive intimated how long, luxurious meals are and the cigarettes that follow them. Ive second hand smoked more in a week than I have my entire life I think).
After sleeping in, Zoe, Morgane, and I had lunch/first meal and then lazed around on the banks of the Seine napping and reading. Once we got our laziness out of the way, Zoe left to take care of her cats and Morgane and I set out for Luxembourg Gardens, passing the Sorbonne along the way. Luxembourg was lovely and despite the amount of people enjoying the weather very tranquil. Next we walked around the St. Germain area a bit before stopping for a drink and a snack. The purpose of the stop was to kill time waiting on Zoe to get back but naturally she was late. We eventually made our way back towards the flat and had dinner at an Indian restaurant...I know, stop the press--I ate Indian food and really enjoyed it. I had some sort of lamb dish, Mussa Tikka maybe? Crunchy flat bread was set on the table before the meal (The Indian equivalent to tortilla chips?) and reminded me of my mom's tacos. Yes, I know how weird it sounds but its true, there was a spice in it that I guess was in the spice pack she used.
I'm off to Slovenia tomorrow I believe.

Paris Days 3, 4, 5, 6

The past few days have been very sedated (if anything in Paris can be). I've met Morgane's best friend, Zoe Kovacs. I tend to walk slow and eat fast. In Paris it's the opposite, walk fast and without abandon but take your sweet time with the meals (or anything but walking for that matter). I thought I had it bad dating Kasia. I've learned to expect one or two activities with these ladies to be all day affairs...I can't even begin to relate how many times Ive wanted to pull my air out. Please don't get the wrong idea, Ive been having great times throughout, I'm just easily frustrated. These last few days have been light on the sites and heavy on la vie français. I visited Oscar Wilde's grave at Père Lachaise and Musée D'Orsay. La vie français has been running various errands throughout the city, whiling away a couple of hours at a café or picnicking on the Sèine. There seems to be a phenomenon among Parisiens--the disbelieving eye. When approaching an intersection you must walk all the way to the curb (or most likely past it) and poke your head out to get a better look at traffic that is visible two steps back. I've never experienced such disregard for traffic than here (except maybe on campus at UT).
Yesterday we paid a visit to the childhood home of Zoe and her sister Eva in a small town outside of Chartres. Then we drove the 20 kilometers into Chartres and made our way to the riverside (creekside would be more apt) to rent paddle boats. Before we could do that though we had to get some food. Food is somewhat of a misnomer though. I've never been around people who eat more sweets. I thought I had a sweet tooth and these girls put me to shame. It was approaching 4PM by the time we sat down to our chocolate crepes...which was apparently breakfast. I wasn't sure if they considered the cookies we had on the way to be breakfast, apparently not. We paddled down a peaceful river I believe they call "l'Eure." I ended up handling the lions share of peddling but I guess I needed it after the crepe. After an hour of peddling along we left to visit the Cathedral. Instead of walking from where we were they decided to drive and try to find a spot closer. Wrong idea. After a half hour of driving through the surprisingly trafficked streets of Chartres we found another space and walked through the tight streets towards the church. Chartres is a very picturesque town, which makes the imposing Cathedral that much more spectacular. I think I might have been in more awe of Chartres Notre Dame than Paris'. After spending time walking in and around the church (which was in the middle of mass while I was inside) we thankfully decided to get some food. I've been rightfully accused of being like a toddler in that I get very testy when I'm hungry. I had had three cookies and a crepe by that point and it was well past 6, so I was a bit on the starving side of hungry. Well, after turning their noses up at several restaurants we finally ended up at a place on the town square. I felt like I had put up with a lot that day and needed some comfort food. So, for the first time on my trip, I ordered a cheeseburger and a large glass of beer. It helped soothe my soul thankfully. After dinner, we found our way back to the car and struck out for Paris (80 kilos). I've tried unsuccessfully to orient myself in Paris and have found it impossible. Despite this, I've felt like Eva (and her navigators) take really out of the way routes when in Paris. I have no way to prove this but I believe it. All of that is to say, it seems like it takes a ridiculous amount of time for them to get around Paris in a car (then you have to throw in 20 minutes of driving around trying to find a spot). All of that is neither here nor there but, upon getting back to the flat we all went to have a drink before calling it a night.
Today we've all (Eva, Zoe, Morgane, and I) spent at Morgane's mother's flat celebrating mother's day. Eva and Zoe's parents our out of town, hence they are here. Clint, Morgane's brother, is also here and thankfully speaks English. I needed some male companionship after these last few days surrounded by estrogen. We had a very French lunch that I thoroughly enjoyed. Not sure what tonight holds but, tomorrow might hold the beach if the weather is pleasant. And then I think Tuesday is departure day to somewhere...not sure yet.

Paris Day 2-The sites

After sleeping in, Morgane and I headed out the door to hit the sights. I couldn't have a better guide (or host for that matter--The flat is big and in a great location, she had a week long subway pass for me when I arrived--both of which barely scratch the surface of her hospitality that she has extended to me).
We took the sub to L'Arc de Triomphe, then walked down the Champs Elysee-stopping at a patisserie, Ladurée, along the way. Morgane introduced me to the house specialty-Macaroon. Ive had macaroons in America but those fall miserably short of Ladurée's treat. As most of you know, I consider myself an expert in the dessert arts (tasting at least), so it's no weak praise when I call the small, simple confection perfect.
I'm a bit short on time so I won't wax on every detail of my day. I did see the sight: Eiffel tower, Notre Dame, etc. The one let down being my expectation of a building where the Bastille stood and not just a monument where it once was. Kind of disappointed and a little embarrassed that I didn't know the building wasn't there anymore. Scattered amongst our walk through the city was an early afternoon stop at a café for refreshment and recharging (smoking is allowed virtually everywhere and blows my mind)and an even later afternoon lunch off Louis XIII Square (just steps from Victor Hugo's home). A more lovely spot to eat a Croq Madame can't be imagined. My time here has definitely been a fairy tale so far--a surreal dream that has yet to sink in yet. Perhaps it's the lack of responsibility, lack of "real" life that makes this trip such a peaceful waking dream.
My time here has been so thoroughly authentic. We partook in the sacrament of Paris, the cinema, tonight as well--there was no popcorn, candy, cokes for sale--no lobby for that matter (this experience has granted no end to the revelations).

Paris Day 1-A Fairy Tale...

In the realm of possibilities, I'm sure there are some who could find a better way to start their Paris adventure. For myself though, it doesn't get any better than my first night. Morgane met me at the train station (I was a little nervous about whether or not she'd be there). After a little bit of initial awkwardness upon seeing each other after 5 yrs (a small mix up on the subway) we arrived at our stop (Villiers Station). Walking out of the Tube in London was amazing for me, this was well beyond that and can never be replicated. As I reached the top of the stairs I was greeted with an exquisite view of Sacrè Couer directly in front of me, perched on its hill top. Mon dieu et bonjour, Paris.
Morgane has secured an amazing flat for me while I'm here--beautiful. The windows look out onto a wonderful courtyard that give the building a serenity unthinkable in a city of this size. After sitting and talking for awhile we set out on the 1.5 mile (give or take) walk towards Montmarte. Morgane guided me through the more pleasant side streets as we made our way to the top. We turned a corner and there it was in front of me. I hadn't realized we were "there" already.
If you've seen the view (especially at sunset) then you know the glory of Paris. If you haven't, then we are out of luck because I haven't the ability to describe the magnificence. We made our way into the church, a jewel in its own right, and as luck would have it the sisters were in the midst of a choral prayer. Nothing could have amplified my awe in the church like their voices.
Upon leaving the cathedral, we paused on the top of the steps leading towards the front doors of the church. We sat picking out the scenes and monuments of the city, admiring the view for some time before making our descent.
Eventually we looped back down the hill towards the flat passing the Moulon Rouge (the sex trade is still strong in the area, and despite this...or perhaps as a result...the neighborhood is trendy). Despite the late hour (1030) we were able to eat dinner at a traditional bistro around the corner from the flat. Morgane naturally handled the ordering, seating, etc and then towards the end of the meal, I was asked in perfect English (w/out a trace of accent) if everything was good by the host. It really threw me for a loop. But, to answer his question and to fill you all in, it was great. I had duck--when in Rome, right? Dinner at this bustling bistro was a perfect cap to end the long day.