Day 9: Sleepy Sunday

I decided to sleep in a bit after getting in late yesterday. After waking I worked out at the silly gym at the Holiday Inn where I was staying. I've learned to keep my expectations pretty low at hotels when they say they have a workout facility. Usually most of the equipment is in disrepair, what little of it there is, and there are few if any free weights to be had. The Filton Holiday Inn was no exception. It still beats trying to do it in my hotel room.

After an otherwise lazy morning I headed into town to do laundry, and wander around the Bristol Christmas market which is a bit of fun. I tried my best not to think about the fact that the primary reason I was grabbing a taxi to head into town was to do my laundry. Since the round trip works out to around £40 ($65). Unbelievably, it was still much cheaper than using the hotel's laundry service which was £6/item.

While I was in town, I walked around the Christmas market downtown to do some shopping for the girls, but didn't see anything for them. I knew I'd be going to the giant market at Hyde Park in London later, so didn't worry too much about it.

Day 8: Skiing in England!?

Left to right: Les, Nick, Garith, Little Ant

I decided to join the guys for indoor skiing today at Hemel Hempstead outside of London. It was a lot of fun, but two hours was enough. There are only so many times one can go down the same bunny hill dodging the slow, winding, endless queues of people learning how to ski.

At the top of the "mountain"

After skiing, Nick decided he wanted to take the scenic route through the countryside on the way back instead of blasting through on the M4 which is a bit boring. We stopped at the King William IV pub in Saint Albans on the way back for a late lunch. I took the opportunity to have a nice traditional British meal consisting of meat, potatoes and gravy with some assorted "vegs".

It turned out that Oxford was also on the way back so we stopped in to wander around and grab a pint. The town was wonderfully decorated for the holiday season and we stuck around to watching an outdoor Christmas cartoon projected on a building which was about the magical machine that produces snow being broken down which the elves go fix. The movie climaxed with a fake snowfall made of foamy bubbles getting shot out of a machine to some holiday music. The local kids went crazy over it.

Waiting around for the show to start

It was worth the wait just to see the kids going nuts

Despite the streets being all lit up and looking lively for the holidays, the pubs and streets were quite quiet even though they were filled with people. Apparently its a much older and civilized crowd that makes up the Saturday night life in Oxford.

Day 7: Friday night in Bristol

I felt like I had prepped well for the next week's work with Jon, so I took off a bit early from the office. I ended up going on a big pub crawl around Bristol Center and Clifton with Nick, Gareth, little Ant, and Tom. We all had a great time getting a bit drunk on the local draft beers and ciders and even a couple scotches.

Day 6: First day of work in Bristol

First day at work. It turned out that the hot lunch was curry, so that makes two days of curry for me in a row. I wasn't complaining about that fact, however, it was a miserable curry though. As fortune would have it, a week prior I had already talked Jon into curry for dinner this particular evening before I left the states. So it was a coincidence we already had it twice since I arrived and were going to have it three times in two days! Jon loves Indian too, so he humored me by agreeing that the first two times didn't count as they were substandard attempts. So we joined up for some great curry after work at one of my favorite restaurants in Bristol, 4500 Miles from Delhi. Afterwards I introduced Jon to cider on the Apple cider barge and he found the cider there "interesting". It has a bit of a "funk" to it. Or what I find reminiscent of the smell of fermenting silage on my relative's farms growing up.

Curry at the Raj. Jon and I couldn't join the guys for dinner so we met up after our curry. Left to right: Les, Nick, Ant, Garith, Gavinder, Jon.

Day 5: Small disaster in London

I was flying out to London after lunch and had a hard time figuring out what to do with the little time that I'd had left in Paris that morning. The bed at the Marriott was amazing so I decided to capitalize on it and sleep in. It was terrific and my body was thanking me for the respite from the daily abuse and poor sleeping since flying here. I had been developing a cold since departing the plane and my activity and lack of sleep was helping it along I'm sure. I was feeling like a new man, but on the train ride to the airport I got a bit melancholy over the thought of leaving. I would have liked to spend a bit more time in France exploring.

It turns out that I had a bit of a personal disaster landing in Heathrow. When I went to grab some British pounds from the cash machine right after landing, I discovered that my wallet was missing. Went to lost baggage where some airport personnel informed me I needed to go, and contacted the gate to have them search the plane. I waited around for twenty minutes for one of the gate crew to call me back which never happened. They said they'd call back after fifteen, so I gave them a call. I was promptly told that they couldn't find it and the plane had left. Considering their immediate response to the question, I doubt they had ever looked for it. Oh well, it was my fault for not noticing sooner so I shouldn't be blame them. On reflection, I think there's a possibility I had been pick pocketed as I recalled being a bit rushed back in Charles De Gaulle and put the wallet in my back pocket when I had purchased lunch which I'm pretty careful not to do for just that reason.

I ended up sorting out a way to get online at the airport, call up Vanessa for her credit card, then ordering a train ticket online to make it out to Paddington station where I had arrangements to meet my UK colleague Jon. It turns out that we were too late to make the train we had prepaid for leaving Paddington for Bristol though, so we grabbed some curry and a couple of beers while catching up and waiting for the fares to go down. He was nice enough to loan me a hundred pounds while I got my finances sorted out. That was a giant help.

Day 4: Breton's Saint Malo and back to Paris again

I finally got a full night's sleep and felt like a new person. After a failed attempt to find an open creperie in town, I headed out for Saint Malo on the coast about 30 mins away. After going around in circles a bit looking for the tourist information center, I stopped by a hotel/convention center outside of the city walls to ask directions to the tourist center. It turns out that it was only a few hundred feet away and I passed it at least three times. I made it to the tourist center to get a local map, and the woman who helped me was one of the friendliest i had met in France. She certainly looked out of place here and I was taken aback by her forwardness in wanting to help as the other workers sat a bit lazily at the other desks. She could have been mistaken to have stepped right out of a photo shoot for modelling. It turns out she was Romanian and very pleasant. I would have enjoyed staying longer, but had other plans and was starting to feel like I was being foolish chatting there. 

So I went straight, more or less, to the historical museum located in the town and doled out the six euro admission. It ended up being a bit of a tourist trap. Filled with random artifacts that didn't have much to do with the the history of the area. Few of them having English translations and what was captured in French was very brief.  

Found the museum tucked in next to the hotel.

Having my fill of the museum, I located the stairs to the ramparts of the walled city and made my way around on them taking in some beautiful views of the rocky coast and forts built on the small rocky islands that could be walked to on low tide. It reminded me quite a bit of the Pacific Northwest. Especially some of the areas of the Olympic Peninsula.

Looking out at a couple of the Saint Malo forts.

Much of the town within the ramparts was closed with few people wandering the streets. It appeared that it was prepared for much busier times when the weather would be nicer. I was able to find a tasty looking craperie, Craperie Gallo, so finally got around to eating some galletes, aka savory crepes, and trying their tasty Jacques Cartier crepe with chocolate sauce and pears. It was on fire which is one of my favorite features of a dessert. Jacques Cartier happened to be the founder/discover of Canada who came from Saint Malo.

On reflection, I should have eaten more of these

I wrapped up in Saint Malo and had planned to drive through Le Mans to check out the race track on the way back, but didn't think I'd have time before it started getting dark in Paris. I was heading to a new hotel and didn't want to try navigating the bizarre street layouts of the city at night. It turned out that I didn't make it anyhow and hit rush hour. Part of the experience was getting stuck in one of those cluster fuck intersections where six roads intersected with several buses in the center blocking traffic in all directions. Traffic was stuck in a puzzle like only I've seen in pictures. I was mired down in that intersection for forty five minutes or so. Fortunately I wasn't in a hurry, so ended up being amused watching the whirl of chaos around me.

After checking in finally, I went off to Aux Artistes pub to grab a cheap dinner and accidentally ordered beef bourguignon before realizing what it was. Part of the problem was after saying hello and asking for a table, the waiter handed me a pencil and paper and told me in English that it would help. I was a bit irritated since I tried my best to speak French when I walked in and didn't think it was that bad. This was on the heels of starting to feel some pride in my French. So in hopes of decent service, I stuck my tail between my legs and I ordered from the menu without asking questions. From what I could understand the beef was the specialty of the house. Turns out that I had forgot that it was the worst meal I had ever had in France when I visited Calais last winter. The place in Calais had served a dry roast soaked in a grey slop made of onions and mushrooms. Blech. Fortunately Aux Artistes did a great job and it was actually tasty. It reminded me of what I'd expect to order in a typical British pub, a tender roast with savory gravy. In the meantime while waiting for my dinner I noticed the waiter handing pencils and paper to all the patrons. I guess it gets pretty loud and it's more efficient and reliable to order food that way. Not a bad idea as it turns out and I felt silly for getting irritated earlier. 

Day 3: Driving to Normandy and Mont Saint Michel

I slept awfully again. Waking up at 3am sharp. Fell back asleep around 6 and decided to get up at 9:30. The original plan was to be at the Sixt car rental agency when they opened at 8. Ended up not departing Paris until 11:30 between shower, packing, storing luggage at hotel, walking there, and the paperwork and waiting for them to fetch the car. In retrospect I should have taken the metro and shaved about 20 mins off.

My good little Citroen

I headed out for my three and a half hour drive to Mont Saint Michel in Normandy through the countryside. It was a nice drive, but I forgot to account for how much extra time it takes to actually get out of a French city, plus stopping for the tolls.

Taking the 1 1/2 mile walk to the "island/peninsula".

The main entrance.

So I didn't get there until 4. I knew entrances to the cathedral were cut off at 5 and the tour closed at 6 so there wouldn't be a problem. Or so I thought. I checked into my hotel on the island town, the mouton Blanc, dropped off my backpack, then marched up the few hundred feet of steps to the top of the mountain where the cathedral was for the tour. Phew! I made it to the ticket desk at 4:45. Plenty of time for the self guided tour. However, the employee at the front desk thought otherwise and refused to sell me the audio tour although he was quite happy to sell me admission. The audio tour was an hour and 15 minutes long, but I generally skip or fast forward through certain parts I'm not interested in for audio tours. We went around a few times, and I came close to telling him what kind of person I thought he was and decided better. So I just payed admission and wandered through which turned out fine. It was a pretty interesting cathedral as far as they go, but I decided then and there that it's the last one I go see.

Something occurred to me when I was there that got under my skin that might have something to do with that. I was thinking about all the squandered resources that went into the building of the site over the many years. And then all the people that dedicated themselves to being monks or religious people. Then of all the people who spent weeks at great personal cost to make the trek there. What a staggering waste that could have been set to a better use.

A view up at the cathedral walls. It was a nice quiet evening walk around.

Being used to dinner service starting between 7 and 8 in Paris, I decided to take a 15 minute nap before heading out after coming down from the cathedral. When I woke up and descended on the town for dining, I rediscovered the fact that small villages close down early, so there were only two places open. One of them being the hotel I was staying at which I have a general policy not to eat in when it can be avoided. It was the cheaper option with some set menu choices I was more keen on though.

I ordered the assortment of hors d'ourves, an Omelette de la Mt St Michel, and something unremarkable for dessert. The first course ended up being a salad separated into its constituent parts and spread around the plate with onion dressing sprinkled on. Not exactly what I was expecting. The omelette on the other hand was pretty interesting. They whipped eggs and cream into an almost meringue or whipped cream like texture, then fried it golden brown on one side and folded it over. I need to try that on my own some time.

From the top of the cathedral. Note the low tide.

Day 2: A day of walking

Ug. I woke up at 3am sharp and couldn't fall back asleep. Today turned out to be a big day.

The hotel Novotel Eiffel Tower where I stayed had a workout facility so I decided to commit to working out. Apparently, Americans are generally bigger in every physical aspect. There were no overweight people in the gym, they were all relatively fit. However, I was the biggest muscled person there which felt weird as I am towards the bottom in the weight rooms at the 24 hr fitnesses back home. The personal trainer there had a bit of an unfamiliar physique, muscled and lean, but in strange proportions. He kept looking over at me during my workout which felt a bit strange. 

On the way to Citroen Park

After working out, I showered and hit the streets. Ended up going to Citroen Park today on a recommendation from one of the locals I met at the pub yesterday. What a terrific park. Full of different gardens and landscaping carved into little coves and secluded from one another. It was a little like visiting 30 small parks all in the same area. In the center of the park there was a giant fifty foot helium balloon tethered to a cable that would take up to thirty or so paying customers up and down  throughout the day. It was in honor of the inventors of the balloon, Jacques Charles and the Robert brothers, back in the 1783. Apparently Benjamin Franklin was present to witness the maiden flight of the first balloon. 

Despite the kickboxing going on, an otherwise peaceful spot in the park. I thought I took pics of the big Eutelsat balloon but couldn't find them.

I ended up actually taking a lot of video to edit together a movie later, and took many pictures with me in them for a change. I've learned that all the landscape and building pics I have taken over the years are boring and get tossed. Plus I realized that one can easily find many better ones on the Internet. 

 

Popping out of the tube at Champs Elysees

From there I headed to the Champs Elysees. Turns out that I lucked out and there was the biggest Christmas street market that I have ever seen running most of the way to the Arc de Triomphe. It must have been at least a mile long running on both sides of the street. I ended up doing some Xmas shopping there, getting a backpack full of yummy local sausages which I had the privilege of sampling. Stopped for a salted caramel crepe and a hot cider. That's a new winning combination for me! I could have hit repeat on that scenario a few more times, but did not want to be a glutton. Or at least not more than I have already been here. 

A nice wedding shoot on the bridge heading away from the Grand Palace

Wish I could have taken a better picture of this. The kind of sky that inspires a painter.

The Grand Palace in the background

After walking the full length of the market up and back, I headed off past the Grand Palais des Champs-Elysees. Many things here are simply larger than life, that being one of them. I would have liked going inside, but there was a special exhibition event going on with a monstrous queue, so I moved on across the Seine to the L'Hôtel national des Invalides. Another massive and amazing structure. Napoleon built it to house all the cripples and healing soldiers from the wars. Surrounded by lovely park space and housing many examples of cannons from over the eons, and the world's first "modern" tank from 1918, the Renault FT-17. Around the corner was Napoleon's tomb in the Dôme des Invalides. Yet another unbelievable building. I was curious if it was bigger than one or all of the pyramids and reflected on their similar functions. I looked it up after getting home and apparently the Great Pyramid of Giza is 139m vs the dome at 107m, but the dome is certainly larger than the lesser pyramids at Giza. It still strikes me as remarkable that a person could be so important to a society that they dedicate so many resources to house some old bones for eternity.

Tank shown for scale

Finished with the Invalides, I decided to walk all the way back to the hotel instead of taking the subway. I thought I might discover some gems on the way,and thought it would be an excuse to check out the Eiffel again. When I was done hanging out at the tower, I walked underneath to head along the Rive Gauche, the left hand side of the Sienne, looking to see if there was an affordable eating opportunity on one of the river boats. I didn't find one that was affordable, but did find one that was converted to a special farmers market for the holidays. I decided to check it out and got a bit tipsy trying out some spirits distilled in the Gascogne region. Always an appreciated sales approach. So I bought a couple of bottles for gifts. Floc de Gascogne, floc meaning flower from their local dialect, which is a mildly sweet apartif served chilled. Very tasty, and I will be surprised if the bottle lasts 15 minutes after opening.  The other was an armagnac. It's a smoother version of a bourbon. I picked that up for John and David since they are such fans of bourbons and whiskeys. 

Many of the streets throughout the city were decorated for the holidays

On the way to Rue de Commerce.The top looks like it translates to Happy Fetus.

Inside Le Cafe du Commerce

Making the other patrons give me odd looks while I took a series of pictures trying to get one to turn out.

Freshened up at the hotel and having a few rum and cokes in me, I headed out for dinner at Le Cafe du Commerce. I ordered the rotisserie orange duck. I could  have been tired and buzzed from the drinks, but I am sure that was the best meal of my life. I felt euphoric and had such an ethereal experience, I got a little choked up.  Over food. That was a first, but wow was I happy. I ended it with a dessert called "la baba de la commerce" which was a sponge cake baked with a creme broulee/toffee type crust, topped with hand made whipped cream, and a full bottle of rum to douse over the top at my own will. It just kept getting better.

Some random radio tower I thought looked interesting.

Day 1: Arrival in France

Hopping off the subway near the Novotel Hotel

I arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport and went to get a train ticket from one of the kiosks. I had a flashback to when Ness and I came to France on our tenth anniversary a few years ago. It was August and over 80 and humid. We got off a red eye flight and were tired. This must have led to our confusion with figuring out the train system. That and we could not understand French very well. Turns out that our credit cards wouldn't work because they didn't have the security chips in them and the change machine was out of service. So we had to get in a queue of over fifty people waiting at a nearby cashier to get change. Fortunately someone came to service it soon after we got in line so I waited patiently behind the guy servicing it while Vanessa stayed in the long queue just in case he took a while. Fortunately he finished in a few minutes, but as soon as he was done and closed the door a French woman rushed in front of me and shoved her bill in. It was our first taste of French, and in particular Parisian culture. Apparently, December must be a better time to travel, as it went much smoother this time around.

View from the D'Orsay

I headed straight for D'Orsay museum after dropping off my luggage with the hotel concierge for storage. Saw all the famous impressionist and romance era painters' works. Including a bunch of amazing statues. Finished up exhausted so grabbed a quick cat nap before heading out to a great little pub. I was the only American there and couldn't understand a thing going on. But I enjoyed trying to figure out rugby rules again, and watching all the people having a great time. I wandered around after that to experience some of the Paris nightlife for a Saturday night. Decided to stop at a "bar-club" in the Montparnasse district since the bouncer talked me in with a cheap drink. Since it was cheaper than the cafe I stopped at and left because I didn't get service, I thought I'd give it a try. Turns out it was a strip joint dive. What a surreal experience. I was the only person there other than the three stripper girls chumming it up in a booth together in the back corner, a bouncer, bartender and the older hardened female manager. The latter three in their fifties. It was very dark and dingy inside. The conditions and business was so poor, that i actually felt bad for the proprietors and employees there. That didn't stop me from only having my glass of whiskey and heading for the door. In the interim of finishing my whiskey, I did have to endure each of the ladies taking turns coming over to ask me where I was from and trying to convince me to hand them fifty euros for a five minute dance. I thought it was amusing as I'd turn one down, she'd walk back to the other two, have a chat, then the next would come over as if they were coming out of a dug out then returning after striking out. I took pity and wave the last girl out before she headed over, then tiring of the menacing glances I got from the employees for daring to come in and pay for nothing buy my drink, I made my prompt exit, having finished my whiskey.