Yogurtsoda

Posted on August 3, 2008November 23, 2009

Our last couple of days in Paris were more laid back and slow-paced than the others. We still had some sights to see, in particular the Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris, on Ile de la Cite.

When we came out of the island’s metro station, the first thing we saw was the Marche aux Fleurs, or flower market, which was perfect because it was on my to-see list already:

I’m not the green thumb in the family – that honor goes to my parents and sister, who had a ball exploring the little shops selling all kinds of flowers, seeds and garden wares. I bought some lavender-scented soaps and satchels for a cousin and we soon walked the short couple of blocks to the Notre Dame:

The cathedral is huge. I’m not particularly into gothic architecture, but it was impossible not to be impressed by the imposing walls, statues and stained glass:

I spent a good amount of time walking around and exploring inside the church. As one of Paris’ most popular landmarks, the Notre Dame attracted tourists aplenty, but the sheer size of the cathedral meant that it never felt crowded or stuffy.

Afterwards, we started walking towards Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge across the River Seine and reputably the one with the best views. Unfortunately, it was overcast while we walked across the bridge, so it lacked the je ne sais quoi of say, the view you’d get during a balmy evening sunset. But still, it was nice:

I had planned for us to pay a visit to Berthillon, the infamous Parisian ice creamery, at the nearby Ile Saint-Louis, but they were closed that day. Instead, we stopped at Jess’ Cafe near the bridge and I had a croque monsieur that didn’t live up to my expectations, but was filling nonetheless:

We took our time walking towards the metro station after lunch. Ile de la Cite is full of flower shops, cafes and pet stores; in other words, the place is oozing with charm. By the time we got back to our apartment it was time to pack up and say goodby to Paris. The next morning we took a taxi to Charles de Gaulle Airport to catch our flight to our next destination: Istanbul.

Posted on July 28, 2008November 23, 2009

My guidebook describes the district of Montmarte as the bohemian heart of Paris, bustling with artists, music, and uh, ladies of the night. My only backround on the neighborhood stemmed from repeated viewings of Amelie and a tip from my cousin to make sure to vist Tati, sort of like a French H&M. Tati turned out to be closed when we visited, but it was on the way to our main stop anyway: the Basilique du Sacre Coeur:

Perched at the summit of butte Montmarte, the Roman Catholic basilica is at the highest point in the city, providing a spectacular panorama of the Paris skyline:

It felt like a million steps to finally reach the Sacre Coeur, so my family and I took our time walking up the hill and admiring the view (and the good weather, finally).

Photos are not allowed inside the basilica and silence is observed as much as possible, lending a more solemn air to this house of worship than any of the other ones I visited during our trip.

After exploring the basilica, we took the metro to the nearby Marche aux Puces de St-Ouen, which my guidebook described as the largest and finest antique flea market in Europe. Not so. It felt more like a typical market in Berkeley, complete with mass-produced Bob Marley leather jackets and incense. (Sorry, Berkeley.)

We cut that part of our day short and took the metro back into the city center and stopped for lunch near Les Halles (which happens to be the namesake for Anthony Bourdain’s New York restaurant). I had the plat du jour at Au Pere Tranquille: shrimp salad with avocado and grapefruit:

Afterwards, we walked a few blocks towards Centre Pompidou, a postmodern complex housing a public library, the national museum of modern art, and a center for music research:

It took a few minutes to get a sense of direction in this huge building, and we ended up spending most of our time in the modern art museum:

I really enjoyed Centre Pompidou. I just wish I knew what all of the signs meant. Applying my knowledge of Spanish to French was a slow process fraught with guessing games, and I’m sure Parisians got a chuckle or two at my Spanish-accented attempts to communicate. Parlez-vous Anglais? can only get you so far!

Posted on July 22, 2008December 24, 2009

I had read in my guidebook that despite the crowds and more expensive admission, weekends are the time to visit Versailles because all the ornate garden fountains are on, making it all the more worth the trip. With this in mind, we woke up early on a Saturday morning to take the RER train to the Versailles train station.

On our short walk to the palace, my family and I stopped at A La Coiffe Bretonne to have crepes for lunch. I had the cockles and mushroom crepe with Moray sauce:

It was more buttery than crepes I’ve had in the U.S. and fortified me for the rest of the morning and afternoon. Once we got to the palace gates, we stood in line for about an hour (!) before we finally purchased our tickets and began exploring Chateau de Versailles.

It was unfortunate that part of the palace is under renovation, and another part of it was closed during our visit. Still, we took our time strolling through the grands appartements, the grand appartement de la reine and the sparkling Galerie des Glaces (Hall of Mirrors).

It turned out that a ticket purchased later in the day (we didn’t reach the ticket booth until almost two in the afternoon) does not grant you full access to the gardens. That wasn’t hugely disappointing, since the greatly-coveted fountains had not been turned on all for the weekend:

I don’t know why, but I sort of expected more from Versailles. Maybe it was the long lines, the overwhelming crowds, the partial renovation and closing off of quarters, or just a general overload from so many museums over the past few days, but I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I’d be. It was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but in France everything is so stunning that perhaps it just takes more after awhile to really be stopped in your tracks.

Though we didn’t have a chance to visit it, we had fun looking for signs pointing to Saint-Cloud, the little city between Paris and Versailles where my cousins grew up. Since we were running late, we caught the RER back to Paris and headed to our neighborhood for dinner.

We ate at L’Auvergne a Paris, a small restaurant a couple of blocks from our apartment. I had been wanting to try escargots so I was delighted to find and order them from the menu:

They tasted a little like clams, although less flavorful and overpowered by butter, garlic and parsley instead. Still, I was satisfied enough to be able to say I’ve now tried escargots.

By the time we finished dinner, it was evening and we hopped on the metro to visit every tourist’s requisite stop: the Eiffel Tower:

And you know what? Despite the cliches, it was magical. For fifteen minutes at every hour, the entire tower would light up with sparkling lights, and it felt like all of Paris was giving you a great big stinky, wine-soaked, cheese-laden hug. And I wanted to turn around and give it one right back.

Paris, je t’aime.