Alarm set for 5:30 to be up for an 8:00 am flight from the BA domestic airport to Posadas which is the city and airport closest to the marshes and wetlands in Iberà where we’re going to spend the next three nights.Hugh arrived with his driver at 6:30 to pick us up and drive us to the airport and just as he did the skies opened up with torrential rains so we raced to the car through an overflowing stream that had already overrun the gutter. Given the weather, happy to be leaving.
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Arrived in Posadas in the hot sunshine at about 10:30 and were picked up and driven to Porto Valle. A beautiful old renovated estancia, it sits on the bank of the Paranña River which separates Argentina from Paraguay and which is downstream from Iguatzu Falls and about 40k wide at this point The rooms are huge and very comfortable, a 5 star property with only 5 rooms, and if anything, reminiscent of the safari camps in Tswalu and Mala Mala. A well stocked wine cellar and a very good kitchen whose Exec Chef runs a well-reviewed restaurant in BA, seems very promising.
Will be taken out to the wetlands by boat later today and plan on packing lots of photo gear. In the meantime a very good lunch which featured a bulgur risotto with saffron accompanying braised cayman (alligator) tail. All right in a pinch I suppose, and yes, it does taste like chicken, chewy overcooked chicken breast.
Sunset, Ibera wetlands, Argentina
Just returned from an afternoon on the lagoon. While the hotel sits on a river, the nearest border of the wetlands is about 5 or 6 kilometres inland and reached by 4×4 over a rough track, the drive taking about 1/2 hour. The wetlands are protected by the Province and no hunting or fishing is allowed. Their area is extensive and comprises about 14% of the area of the entire province of Missiones, so very large indeed. The hotel has exclusive use of one of the hundreds of ponds and lagoons that make up the wetlands and V and I along with Gabriel our guide and Orlando our 4×4 and boat driver made up the party.
Sunset, Ibera wetlands, Argentina
After a very rough ride inland to the dock, we took a small boat with a long-tail propeller such as are used on the Phraya River in Bongkok, and for the same reason, the weeds are very thick and foul the propeller so it must be mounted only inches below water level. We wove our way slowly along a narrow channel, barely wide enough for the boat, among the reeds and tall water plants for about 2k until we reached the lagoon, a large open body of water about 40 hectares in area, and landed at a large platform built about 3 metres above the level of the swamp to give a wide view of the countryside. Fortunately and surprisingly it was bug free but then again, since it was about 38 or 39C under a blazing sun and with no shelter or shade, even mosquitoes know are smart enough to take cover.
Very hot but a very pleasant couple of hours and then we retired to a floating raft for maté and sandwiches as the sun began to set. No spectacular sightings but an afternoon that was inspired by the Zen ethos, “take satisfaction in small things” and we did; scattered small jewels of minute yellow flowers scattered among the swamp vegetation and barely visible; a black bump in the water that slowly resolved itself into a cayman’s eye; a mating dance on a floating mat of vegetation between a pair of unknown wading birds; and the discovery of maté, the gaucho’s drink, as a pleasant social ritual amongst the four of us on the raft. Finally, and not a small thing, a richly hued and explosive sunset reflected in the perfect mirror of the lagoon.
A wonderful afternoon and evening, a pleasant dinner to follow and a long, deep sleep; pleasure in small things indeed!
Covered a lot of ground today. After last night’s over-indulgence awoke late and didn’t leave the hotel until 11:30. Started by taking a taxi to San Telmo, a district near the river famed for its market. Left everything of value in the hotel safe since we had been warned of pickpockets in the crowd; hate to mention this but everyone warned us of potential problems but it’s common sense to take precautions in any big city anywhere. In any event our only problem so far has been a counterfeit 50 peso note but a couple in the hotel who we talked to at breakfast had been sprayed by someone from a squeeze bottle and a couple of people who in the course of drying them off and helping them had emptied their pockets. Not fun but again not unique to BA; we had the same thing happen to us in San Francisco so common sense is the order of the day anywhere.
San Telmo was a madhouse, street market which covered block after endless block, market stalls on both sides, and half the population of BA in shoulder to shoulder throngs. Not my idea of a good time and it was difficult to photograph as it was hard to stay steady in one spot without being jostled or pushed. While most of the stalls were selling the usual street market schlock, there were occasional finds and V picked up a handmade leather belt and we both bought handwoven panama hats which I think we’ll need once we start our road trip.
Seltzer bottles San Telmo, BA
On to a large and elegant mall in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in BA, the Galleria Pasifica, me to try and track down a pair of sandals for our road trip and V to baseline the costs of a leather coat which is on her target list when we return to BA from our travels. Searched a number of shoe stores and found a pair of sandals that I liked in Timberland, paying for which demonstrated the way payment and currency is managed in Argentina. The country, it seems, has imposed currency control as well as business taxes whose net effect has been to have a number of international retailers close up shop and move out of the country to be replaced by local businesses who are filling the product and services gap left in the wake of the closings. The rate of exchange on US dollars, for example is officially set at a rate of 5.7 pesos per US$ and when you attempt to pay for a purchase with a credit card you are strenuously advised not use it by waiters and shopkeepers alike and encouraged to use US$ cash. Stores and restaurants will offer to take US$ at 9.5 pesos per US$ rather than the 5.7 that it would be calculated at when processed. Shopkeepers look at you with real pity as if you were idiot children when you use a credit card so it seemed natural to ask the Timberland clerk what he would give us if we paid in US$ and I was told 5.7 pesos per US$. When I tried to negotiate and explained that all the other stores we had dealt with were prepared to give us between 9.5 and 9.8 pesos per $ they stubbornly insisted on their rate. Couldn’t understand why until we left the store; as a foreign company I’m guessing that they did not want to make waves and be caught in situation in which they were seen to be engaging in currency trading since currency controls are in place, with presumed consequences to them. Everyone else who had offered us rates were local Argentine businesses who were happy to get their hands on hard currency. So there is in effect a two price system in operation and if you pay with credit cards your trip is considerably more expensive than if you pay local businesses with US$ or Euros.
Hugh had arranged for a car, driver and guide to spend Saturday morning with us to give us a sense of the city. Useful exercise, particularly with as fluent and as knowledgeable guide as Maryanna was. Got a good sense of the city and am beginning to create a mental map, a sense of where things are in relation to each other.
The afternoon was spent walking and in anticipation of our coming dinner. We had made a reservation at a “closed-door restaurant” described in an article here: “The secret to accessing some of the most memorable meals to be had in Buenos Aires is a bit of insider knowledge and a reservation. Puertas cerradas, or closed-door restaurants, are where some of the city’s best chefs are at work, often in the comfort of their own homes, creating mouthwatering, multi-course meals. Lately, more and more of these closed-door restaurants have been popping up, leading to a new variety of cuisines and dining styles, and they’re quickly becoming the most sought-after tables in town.”
Tasting menu Casa Coupage
The concept of private restaurants, usually in the chef’s home and as a result very small with few tables, is a trend that has been around for a while but is growing quickly. We were lucky enough to get a table at Casa Coupage, one of the originals whose emphasis is on wine pairings, not surprising as it is run by a couple of sommeliers as well as by a first-class chef. We arrived for our 9:30 reservation a couple of minutes early, rang the door bell and were welcomed by one of the owners to select a table in one of couple of charming rooms, the original living room and dining rooms of the house which had been re-organized and decorated for their new incarnation as a small private restaurant.
We were welcomed with a glass of local sparkling wine and were given our menus; we both decided to go with the 7 course tasting menu and I chose a flight of 7 wines to accompany it while V chose a 5 wine flight. Our host for the evening, the owner who had welcomed us quickly got the game started with a couple of whites from Patagonia. The restaurant handles the wines in an interesting way; my 7 wine flight consisted of 2 whites with the first 2 courses, 3 reds for the 3 courses to follow and a couple of desert wines for the cheese and desert courses. Instead of bringing a wine with each course, our host poured both whites at the beginning of the meal and later when we moved to reds he poured all 3 reds at once, suggesting that as we ate our courses we should play with the wines a little and try different wines with different foods to see how they behaved, great fun!
Cold pea soup with jellied orange and zucchini tempura
Our whites were a reisling-styled wine which we really liked but the second white we sent back after tasting it as it was a chardonnay with all the characteristics of a chardonnay which for some is heaven but for us an actively unpleasant experience. We were instead rewarded with a wine that we had not heard of, a Torrontés from Salta which was funky in the extreme but very compelling. A hugely floral nose, dry and fruity with a dusty finish with an overtone of nail polish remover; weird and wonderful.
Reds were fabulous, three variations on Melbec from Mendoza, ranging from a cheerful, light fun wine to a very serious, structured, heavily tannic wine that needed protracted aging from a vineyard that only produces 3,000 cases a year, so very hard to come by, and concluding with a Malbec Cab blend that was a very serious wine indeed and my favourite. Wine was poured freely and while serious attention was paid to the tasting and food-matching, when it came to drinking there was no fooling around; glasses were well-filled and more arrived when the levels dropped.
Venison tartar with quail’s egg marinated in soy sauce and horseradish foam
Food matched the wine, and so a wonderfully organized, well-planned and well-served meal. We finally staggered out of the restaurant at 12:45, adrift on clouds of wine and arrived back to our hotel after 1:00. When we left the restaurant there were still occupied tables finishing their dinners. Argentines, like Spanish culture everywhere, like to dine late.
V. says: The city tour was great, and Maryanna was a font of knowledge. The city is truly beautiful right now, all the wide boulevards are lined with jacaranda trees, which are in full bloom…a glorious light purple. Looking down a street it is clouds of purple. We saw all of the major sights, including wandering around the Recoleta cemetery, which is just as amazing as everyone had said. It really is like a subdivision…with accomodations cheek by jowl and smaller than usual! For example, the tomb/house beside Eva Peron has a for sale sign in its window…too much traffic, apparently. Fascinating to see some of the art deco monuments, and the occasional excess. We didn’t love the La Boca area, way too artificial and touristy, but the various official buildings, including the pink palace, are impressive indeed. Totally moving to see the area where the bereaved mothers have continued to protest and mourn their lost children. It’s also interesting what we don’t see…hardly any American chain stores for example. The currency restrictions make it very difficult. Somehow Starbuck’s has figured it out, however. We drove around the port district as well and were struck, once again, at the size and diversity of the city. So glad we did this.
Arrived on Friday morning after a relatively easy 10 hour flight. Have reached the conclusion that if you have to fly, and as exciting as I still find it after many years, it’s getting to be a real PIA, the ideal flight crosses only 1 or 2 time zones, is an overnight flight, there are lie-flat beds available and is about 10 hours long. Using that yardstick the Houston-BA flight was ideal. Departed at 9PM had a large glass of red wine after take-off, refused dinner, laid my bed down flat, sleepmask on and a sleeping pill ingested I slept for a solid 7 hours. Awoke to a hot breakfast and shortly afterwards landed with virtually no jetlag since we crossed only 2 time zones. Met Hugh of McDermott’s Argentina at the airport and spent a pleasant couple of hours driving to our hotel, having lunch and comparing adventures. Hugh is a widely-experienced young guy whose adventures have led him from a childhood in Dorset, to horse rearing on the Masi Mara in Kenya, to riding his horse Pancho across the Andes and riding from the northern top of Argentina to the southern bottom end. He started his tour planning company a couple of years ago, initially organizing riding horse-based Argentine travel but now broadened to to cover a much wider clientele. Hugh accompanied me to a phone store to get my local sim card sorted for my unlocked phone, which was a godsend since my rudimentary Spanish does not cover the subtler points of local phone plans and pricing. Charming guy who works hard to put good itineraries together and to make sure his clients are taken care of.
Sky from plane window
In the course of our walk to the phone store we passed a restaurant, Don Julio, which Hugh said was one of his favourites, so we stopped and made a reservation for the evening. A traditional Argentine steak restaurant with super-abundant emphasis on grilled meats, with an extensive and well-curated wine list of Argentinian wines, and reputed to be one of the 3 or 4 best classical Argentine grill restaurants. The waiter was very knowledgeable and helped me pick, which was somewhat of a surprise, a Pinot Noir from Mendoza. I don’t associate Argentina with Pinot’s but then I really don’t know much about Argentine wines. It was very soft and with a classic Pinot nose and more in the style of a new world pinot than a classical French version; very pleasant but not hefty enough for the grilled meats.
We started with a shared platter of offal grillé, a mix of grilled kidneys, sweetbreads and chitterlings accompanied by wedges of lemon, a first for V and a very good start to our mains.
I had a rib-eye grilled rare and V a thick sirloin grilled rare as well. When they came, very quickly, they were medium rare, so next time to get them rare we’ll order them blue. Both cuts were extraordinarily flavourful but a little chewier than expected, I’m guessing both due to the fact that they are from grass-fed cattle rather grain fed. Hard for me to admit, but daunted by the size of the meat we were served! I started well, maybe a little too nonchalantly, while V carried on as she began, in a quiet, determined, remorseless way and finished hers, my slightly showy approach ended as these things usually do, with frustration and disappointment on the part of participants and spectators alike and I left the field and my steak, unfinished. Very, very good. No desert, a pleasant walk home and to bed.
V. says: The Palermo area where we are staying is fun. Lots of stylish young, the girls all in impossibly thick platform shoes. A great discovery at lunch..lemonade whipped with lots of mint and some ginger. Yum. Wonderful to sit out in the sun and watch the world go by.
After much turmoil with our flight itinerary; every leg of the trip has been cancelled, changed or modified at least once in the last couple of months and our final trip routing is now different in every respect as compared to our original plan, the only common factors being that we leave from Toronto, arrive in Buenos Aires and at some future date which also changes, we arrive back in Toronto. While Air Canada flies direct Toronto to BA, we were routed through Newark NJ where we were to pick up a United flight to BA and then returning it was to have been BA to Lima on Avianca, a change of planes and on to to San Salvador and a change of airlines and home to TO. Crazy. After many changes we now fly to Houston and pick up United on an overnight in Business to BA and returning we now leave BA a day later, fly Business to Bogata and pick up Air Canada direct home. Much simpler, but still too complicated. However, with luck, the worst of the re-scheduling is over and we can actually begin to get ready with some certainty that the trip is actually going to happen.
Looking forward to meeting Hugh of McDermott’s Argentina in BA and setting out. While I have spent the last couple of weeks battling airlines, V has had a much more pleasant time building an itinerary with Hugh. We are spending a couple of days in BA and then flying to Posadas and driving in to the Iberá wetlands where we’re going to spend 3 days; should be great wildlife and bird photography. Then by road to Iguazú waterfalls where we spend 2 nights and then a flight to Salta and the beginning of a 5 day road trip in a 4×4 through the Puna region which is a high grassland and desert region in the central Andes which can be as high as 3400 metres. I’m really looking forward to this part of the trip because it is off the beaten track, the photography should be excellent and there are some small weaving villages that we will be visiting. We have to thank McDermott’s Argentina for this part of the trip as it was not on our radar and Hugh and V figured that it was an itinerary leg that ticked all the boxes. After that back to BA for 4 days and the Opera. Action packed.
We have been wanting to travel to South America for a number of years but Asia and later Africa always sang their siren song and we would once again promise ourselves that the next trip…..A catalyst was clearly needed and so for Xmas last year I gave V tickets to the opera in Buenos Aires and there was no longer any excuse.
Our timing was entirely driven by our opera tickets which are for the last night of the Season, Saturday Dec 7, and rather than extend the trip from that point on, which would bump us into Xmas, we are leaving next Thursday Nov 22 so as to have two weeks to wander before we need to be back in BA for the opera.
This was a difficult trip to plan. As usual we were not interested in tour groups or cruises and as usual we wanted to get off the beaten track a little. Lots of friends had traveled to Argentina but in most cases they had either headed south from BA to Patagonia or spent their time in BA and the Mendoza wine region, with a side trip to Iguazu Falls. Since we are heading into winter a chilly trek into the Patagonia highlands did not appeal, at least this time around and while spending a lazy and bibulous week touring vineyards does have a certain appeal, we decided to give some thought to our livers and postpone the pleasure, but to add Iguazu Falls to our itinerary.
So, what to do? We talked with a number of travel planners but felt as if they were variations on a well-worn theme and did not feel the sort of frisson that always tells you that the itinerary has some magic in it.
Finally, by dint of much research, V found a travel organizer named Hugh MacDermott who runs MacDermotts Argentina. We are thrilled with his itinerary for a couple of reasons; he gets it, he understood what we were looking for; he responded quickly to our questions and there was a strong sense that he listened carefully and did not offer up boiler plate; he provided more creative options than had been our experience up to that point; he was on the ground and lived in the region and so would be immediately available if needed when we were traveling; and finally, but not insignificantly, the chemistry was good and we felt confident in him, in his decisions and in his integrity. Of course this all remains to be tested in the reality of the trip, but at this point we are confident that all will be well. While Hugh does arrange group tours, our itinerary, which I’ll cover in my next post, was a private trip for just the two of us.
After yesterday’s very pleasant weather, our day began more in the Provence mode than we would have liked, with grey skies and a steady cold rain.Not much fun slogging through the rain to look at sights so decided that today we would visit Le Bon Marché, our favourite department store in Paris and pick up any bits and pieces that we still needed to fill in the shopping gaps. It’s a wonderful 19’th century building, straddling the 6’th and 7’th on the left side of the river, with a fabulous food hall and wine cellar. Took the Métro and arrived at about 11:00 and very surprised at how quiet and un-busy it was. First stop the food section and picked up some long pepper, a hard to find type of type of dried pepper that looks like a small black dry catkin, and which tastes like black pepper but with floral notes that span a much wider and richer taste spectrum than ordinary black pepper as well as a bottle of sel de citron which looks and smells wonderfully lemony and which will work very well sprinkled on asparagus or grilled fish. V loaded up on freshly baked Madelines.
Fascinated by the size of the scarf section in the men’s department and it brings to mind one of the most interesting differences in men’s dress in France as compared to our part of the world. Scarves,carefully selected and tied in an artfully artless way, are de rigeur for men and it’s rare to see a male from a 6 year old to a pensioner without a stylishly draped scarf. I bought a very nice silk and cotton version in Lourmarin in Provence but I’m not comfortable wearing one for the same reason that I don’t like turtlenecks, they’re hot and itchy, with the emphasis on hot. Have been wearing it however, but interested to see the range of choices and prices in the Marché and the degree of importance that the display demonstrated that scarves hold in men’s wardrobes.
There is an extensive book store on the top floor where I parked myself on a very comfortable leather couch and looked at photography books for an hour while V did the rounds of her favourite departments; would happily have stayed longer. There are couple of very decent restaurants in the store and we had lunch at one, Primo Piano a very good Italian café; we each had pasta Norma, a favourite, salad, a glass of wine and a coffee. Very good.
Eiffel Tower
Rain had let up so we walked through the 6’th, past Saint-Sulpice, to the Marché Saint-Germain where we had read that the type of pottery that we had been trying to track down in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue last week might be sold. Found the merchant but not the right kind of pottery and secretly pleased as the thought of adding another couple of kilos of earthenware to our rapidly expanding luggage was not a welcome thought.
I took the Metro home but V decided that she’d like to visit the other two grands magasins, Au Printemps and Galeries Lafayette, both near the Opéra. I had a very pleasant couple of hours reading and watching the rain, V on the other hand did not. She’ll tell you why below.
Dinner was at Aux Crus de Bourgogne, just off the Rue Montorgueil, about a 10 minute walk from our apartment and a recommendation of our hostess. Fabulous dinner with a really fabulous wine, a burgundy whose name, unfortunately, I did not make a note of. V had a delicious starter, oeufs mayonnaise with a fluffy mound of sinfully-addictive, freshly-made mayonnaise followed by a Beef Bourginon which she loved, while I had goose rilettes as an entreé and tripes au calvados as my main. Lots of wine and then profiteroles for dessert for V and a baba au rhum for me; they brought my baba and left a bottle of rum for me to pour and there the three of us sat, the bottle, V and I. Very dangerous as I once again melted my baba with a slight overdose of rum and drank my dessert while V thought it would be new culinary landscapes to soak her profiterole. A Calvados and coffee to finish; the rest of the evening has faded from memory and only a rosy glow remains.
Eiffel Tower
Tuesday was our last full day in Paris and we were blessed with the weather. Since neither of us had been to the Eiffel Tower in over 25 years we decided to remedy that oversight and join the throngs. My last visit was on a trip that my daughter, now 36 but then 8, and I took together to Paris for 10 days at almost exactly the same time of year. At that time we took the elevator to the top and there were minimal crowds, no waits and the whole stunning vista looking down the Champ de Mars to the École Militaire. This time there were hoardings around sections of the base to screen the repair and construction works being carried out and blocking the view down the Champ de Mars and people in their thousands, in long snaking lines, waiting for extended periods of time for their chance to ascend to the top.
Left the tower grounds and walked past the Musée du quai Branly, with its street-facing, four storey facade a verdent, vertical garden entirely covering the front of the building with barely room for the windows. Tried to comprehend the logistics of creating and managing it but quickly gave up and just soaked up the sunshine on our walk to the 6’th.
We were getting hungry by this point and since the restaurant on Av. Rapp that we had been recommended to try for lunch was under renovations we just picked a random cafe terrace and sat. Had a flashback to the old days 30 years and more ago to when Paris really could be tough slogging for foreigners. Our French is not colloquial but serviceable for mundane matters such as basic restaurant survival and we had had no problems in the prior two weeks; granted we may have been meeting with extraordinarily gracious serving staff at literally every meal but that only serves to make the point. Our waiter, a member of the Olympic eye-rolling team, refused to understand us, the meal was atrocious and when it was time to pay Madame at the cash very acidly told me that they did not accept credit cards, while a credit card terminal sat on the counter between us. Cafe Le Dome, on Rue Saint-Dominique, don’t ever go there!
Enjoyed the rest of the afternoon walking slowly through the district and ended up at the Odéon in our old neighbourhood. Métro home and then out to dinner at 20:00 at Le Boui-Boui, another of our hostess’s suggestions. Another wonderful dinner but with, literally, a slight hiccough. V started with a camembert salad which turned out to be a whole warmed camembert with its top sliced off, resting on a bed of salad greens, very very rich!. I had a fricassee of mushrooms to start and for our plats, saucisse de Lyon for me and for V a rare steak, in both cases accompanied by aligot, a dish neither of us was familiar with. The dishes when they arrived contained our meat selections alongside an imposing if not frighteningly large mound of shiny looking mashed potatoes. If the camembert starter was rich, the aligot was worthy of midas and as we discovered when I looked up the recipe later, is composed of, for the sake of proportions, 2 kilos of mashed potatoes, butter, 2 cups of crème fraîche, a clove of garlic and 3 cups of Cantal cheese all whipped to a shiny, stretchy mass and a picture of which can be seen on the restaurant’s home page. It was glorious and worked very well with the meats but the quantity was rich, daunting, overwhelming and much was unfortunately returned to the kitchen.
Wrought iron folly
Home to organize for our departure and up early on Wednesday morning to leave. Our hostess had made arrangements for her regular taxi driver to pick us up and so at 7:30 we filled his taxi and set off. We had left ourselves lots of time to get to CDG for an 11:00 flight imagining that there would be quantities of rush hour traffic to deal with but the roads were virtually empty and when we raised this with the taxi driver much of the mystery of the last two weeks became clear and many pieces fell into place. I mentioned in an earlier posting that May 1 was May Day and a national holiday, today May 8 is also a holiday, Armistice Day and we were told by the driver that large numbers of people use the time between holidays and the next weekend as a continuation of the holiday. We had not previously understood why so many children were not at school and why so many restaurants whose days of business were posted as being open were in fact closed when we tried to make reservations and their message on their voice mail said that they were “faire le pont” a phrase with which we were not familiar. Our driver explained that everyone “makes the bridge” between the holidays and the weekends and takes those days as a vacation. Lesson here, a great time to visit but in early May you take your chances with the holidays and with what may be closed.
The Paris apartment, Paris Chéri owned by a charming and very helpful couple, was beautiful, modern, large and very well situated in the 2’nd. We loved it, and loved the fact that it was well-supplied, had a washer and a dryer, not a small matter, and a complete range of modern appliances, and was 5 minute walk from a great shopping street and yet was quiet and welcoming. Our hostess Marie, called periodically to stay in touch and to offer suggestions and recommendations for restaurants and things worth seeing. Very highly recommended.
Virginia says: I had been looking forward to getting to the big department stores, with fond memories of shopping very successfully there in years past. So I decided to start off at Au Printemps and then move on to Galleries Lafayette. What a mistake!! I think the tour companies must just take all their groups there and dump them off..it was an absolute zoo. At Au Printemps there was a roped off area with security guards letting people in two at a time to the Chanel handbag department. The lineup stretched down the aisle and around a corner. Unbelievable! I fled and went to GL, thinking it couldn’t possibly be as bad. Wrong again, it was even worse. The same huge lineup for Chanel bags…why are they in such high demand??? Most of the shoppers in the lineups appeared to be Japanese but everybody else was there too, except no locals, not surprisingly. I did my best to persevere, but the store was crowded and hot and I ultimately had to concede defeat and left empty handed. This was a blow. Re fashion and what you should pack for France. two words…jeans and black. In Provence everybody seems to wear jeans all the time, fancy restaurants included. The only people dressed up were North American tourists. And in Paris it is all black all the time. Well, maybe in August some colour appears, but I wouldn’t know. We saw the occasional pair of brick red jeans, more on men than on women, but that was it for colour. The store windows had colourful and floral outfits, who is wearing them? Even at the Opera, where people were actually dressed up a bit, all black with maybe some grey as an exotic counterpoint. If you ever want to feel really conspicuous, try riding the Metro at rush hour in your pink jacket, you are guaranteed to feel like a parrot at a crow convention. Oh, and never, ever, leave home without your perfectly draped scarf. It was such a fun day to be able to walk all along the left bank. Paris really is a glorious city and, as usual, we hated to leave. We enjoyed being in the 2nd, it was new territory for us and a lively and interesting part of the city. The apartment was amazing. We are already planning our next visit….
Saturday morning arrived very early, so to compensate, we arose very late and didn’t manage to organize ourselves and leave for the day until well after 11:00. A bright sunny day with a brisk nippy little breeze, a very good day for walking so the plan was to explore the Marais with, en route, a visit to the Pompidou Centre.
Passage du Grand Cerf
On our way to Boulevard de Sébastopol, the main artery along which we had planned to begin our walk, we discovered and wandered through the Passage du Grand Cerf, a very elegant glass roofed passageway of about 100 metres linking two roads and lined with very interesting shops. At the end of the passage was an attractive little café, Le Pas Sage, where we decided to stop for lunch; appearances can be deceiving unfortunately and the dishes were ambitious failures, not ordinary or boring but examples of creativity getting ahead of technique and skill.
Street in the Marais
Off in the warm sunshine and drifted by the Centre Pompidou very lively and thronged, and through the little streets and roads that make up the Marais district ending up in the Place des Vosges where we sat in the sun for a good long while and watched the crowds spread out on the grass or wandering by. Circled our way back home, getting a little weary by this point but stopping periodically in our walk in parks that we passed along the way to rest and watch the kids and young families playing in the sun.
Our little street runs parallel to the Rue Montorgueil,”a pedestrian haven and one of the better permanent street markets in Paris. Especially prized for its fish and shellfish vendors, but also for high-quality (and often pricey) produce, bakeries and gourmet foodshops, Rue Montorgueil tends to be a hub for health-conscious hipsters, who do their shopping and lounging here” to quote the aboutparis.com website. While no longer hipsters, if we ever were, and as will have become apparent by now, not sufficiently health-concious either, we decided to make dinner at home and so went to shop on Rue Montorgueil.
Bought a couple of beautifully prepared, stuffed paupiettes de veau at the butcher, and from various shops, céléri rémoulade to nibble on, duchesse potatoes, green asparagus and an apricot tart along with a couple of bottles of Côtes-du-Rhône. Cooked, ate, watched a movie and collapsed about 23:00.
Door decoration – Sainte-Chapelle
We are in luck with the weather after Provence and another bright sunny day on Sunday. Walked down to Sainte-Chapelle, where at 10:30 the line-up was virtually non-existent. The 13th century stained glass windows are incredible, beyond words and we spent about 1.5 hours just soaking them all in and trying to find a way to photograph them but, I suspect, without much luck. When we left about noon, the lineup was outside the gates and down the street.
Ceiling – Sainte-Chapelle
Because the weather is holding up so well we planned to spend the afternoon in the Bois de Boulogne and visit the Musée Marmottan Monet, where a number of impressionist paintings, including a number of Monets are on display. Took the Métro to La Muette and stopped at a cafe restaurant on arrival to have lunch. It was filled with locals enjoying Sunday lunch, all the doors and windows open to the soft breeze and the sun and had a glass of wine and a very pleasant if not memorable lunch, but the setting and the ambiance were all that mattered.
Catching the brass ring – Bois de Boulogne
Back out into the sunshine and into the Bois, where it seemed as if every young family in Paris had congregated for the day to enjoy the weather. A leisurely 10 minute walk to the Musée Marmottan Monet and a happy couple of hours looking at paintings. We had come to see the Monets, we stayed to see, in a large semi-darkened room, a fabulous collection of pages from illuminated manuscripts from the 13’th through the 15’th centuries, and apparently one of the largest and best collections in the world. They were stunning! Even in the half-light, dimmed to protect the displays, the colours were startlingly bright and fresh, and the designs and craftsmanship were exquisite. Hate to say it but the Monets and the rest really did take a back seat to the jewelbox collection of illuminations.
Bois de Boulogne
Left as it was closing and walked, surrounded by trees, grass, kids and dogs back the Metro and so home. No reservations for dinner as all of the places that we had wanted to go were closed on Sunday, so off to a little neighbourhood bistro around the corner, Bistro Les Petits Carreaux, recommended by David Lebovitz for their confit de canard and crispy potatoes fried in duck fat. We sat at a sidewalk table and we both had, and enjoyed, the duck but more especially the potatoes, drank more wine than we should but no drive home, finished with a glass of Calvados, and watched the evening come on. Blissful.
Virginia said: It was such a treat to have a couple of nice weather days, finally. Funny how important the weather becomes when you are travelling. We enjoyed wandering around the Marais. The party line is that it isn’t crowded on Saturdays, for obvious reasons, but it seemed pretty packed to us. Lots of lineups for the falafel stands, not my idea of bliss at all but they do sing to G..I am reading a mystery set in the Marais so it is fun to see all the places mentioned in the book. The Bois de Boulogne was a real highlight. All the chestnut trees are in bloom, some red, some white, and they are glorious. We found the museum a bit confusing, it took us forever to even find the Monet’s, but the upside of that confusion is that we found the illustrated manuscript room, which we basically had to ourselves. Learning once again that your attitude totally depends on your perspective! The little girl on the carousel in G’s picture was a stunner, concentrating ferociously on getting her stick through the ring. At every turn ( the carousel was turned by a hand crank) the kids would try to spear a ring. Much excitement on the part of both kids and parents, and we were cheering them on too!
Up early on Thursday morning, packed and enjoyed the suddenly ever-present sunshine. Our TGV to Paris is at 11:45 so left about 10:15 and ambled our way to the train station bought some sandwiches for the trip, and relaxed on the platform until the train arrived. Our luggage, like us, has gained considerable weight since we arrived. My two bottles of pinot, V’s very large earthenware jug a duplicate of which she had admired at La Cloiserie and tracked down at a local store, and multiple acquisitions both large and small. Coming down from the airport last week we had taken two first class seats which, since the train is a two story affair, were on an upper level. Going back up to Paris we were on 2’nd class tickets which are on the lower level of the train which makes stowing luggage much easier, and apart from the difference in altitude, there really is not much difference in the classes; such is not always the case.
Since all seats both 1’st and 2’nd class are all reserved, we found our train car on the station map and duly waited on the part of the platform that would get us closest to our car’s doors. When it arrived we piled on to discover that all luggage racks were overflowing and that we would have to move to the other end of the car to try our luck with those luggage racks, since bags can’t be left blocking aisles. Now TGV cars are designed in pods with each car divided into two on the bottom level with a dividing wall across the middle of the car so that in order to get to the other end of the car, you must climb the narrow circular stair to the upper level at one end of the car, trundle along the upper portion of the car and then climb back down the far stairs to come at the luggage compartment on the other end of the car. Not wanting to haul three very awkward and heavy pieces of luggage up and down stairs, children don’t try this at home, I decided to hop off the train and scoot along the platform and climb back on at the other end of the car.
V sensibly did not decide to join me and I jumped off onto the platform, and as I did so, the car doors firmly closed. I desperately tried to press the button to reopen the the doors but they were locked for the journey. I then heard mad shouting from the people on the platform waiting for the next train, “Monsieur, vite, vite!” and looking down the platform to about three cars ahead, a distance of 50 or 60 metres, there were three conductors waving their arms. I broke the land record for running while carrying 40k’s of bags, arrived at the open door where I was unceremoniously trundled aboard and within seconds the train was rushing away. You’ll remember that the reason for my getting off the train was to escape climbing up and down one set of stairs; the reward for my brilliant decision to leave the train was that now like Sisyphus, I needed to push my heavy boulder of luggage up three cars worth of up and down stairs instead of one, until I could get back where I started. Eventually did so, found V who was trying to figure out how we would reconnect and much later than any of us had wanted, were finally in our seats and able to catch our collective breaths. This exercise was harder on V than on me, at least until I had boarded the train, as I was in the midst of panic driven activity and too busy to think of consequences, while she was standing on the train with no clue as to what was happening or what we do next.
Chagall ceiling – Opéra Garnier
There’s a lesson in here somewhere. The train ride was wonderful, not least because I was even on the train, but more especially because we spent most of the journey riding through vast fields of canola in brilliant, saturated, butter yellow hues climbing up to an azure sky on a wide rolling landscape of farm fields. A painter could have stored up that memory and come back to it later to try and capture it, unfortunately for a photographer all it will ever be is a memory since there was no way to hold the moment through the dusty windows of a speeding train.
Arrived in Paris and a taxi to our apartment in the 2’nd in the old Les Halles area. A fabulous, large, airy and very modern apartment on the 1’st floor, 2’nd floor to N Americans. So one more set of stairs, but well worth the climb. Thanks to Marc Pearsall for putting us in touch with the owner of Paris Cheri Montorgeuil.
Opéra Garnier
We have stayed in the 6’th the last 5 or 6 times that we have been in Paris, staying at the Relais Medicis Hotel, which we really like, but have rented apartments the last couple of times so that we could prepare our own meals when we did not feel like going out. We really like the 6’th and have found shops and markets that we like so it does feel like a neighbourhood. However we could not find an apartment that we either liked or could afford for this trip so decided to learn more about another section of Paris that we have spent time walking around in on earlier trips, since there are a number of very special kitchen supply and equipment stores in the area, but where we have never stayed.
Wandered the neighbourhood and stopped at Aux Tonneaux des Halles recommended by David Lebovitz, an expat American living in Paris who writes a wonderful, idiosyncratic and very useful blog on Paris. A very good steak frites, a bottle of red and home to bed.
Opéra Garnier
Friday morning we walked over the Pont Neuf and into the 6’th to find a watch store where I had bought my watch on an earlier trip and needed to have the band replaced. Stopped for lunch at one of our favourite restaurants in the area where we always make at least one visit on each trip, Huiterie Regis. It is a tiny place, quite literally a hole in the wall but very clean, bright and white with only 7 small tables inside and two outside and room for 14 tightly packed patrons inside. They do not have a stove, don’t need one as all they serve are oysters and wine, an espresso machine for coffee, with some very thin fresh apple tarts from a neighbourhood patisserie, to finish. The oysters are impeccable, the muscadet crisp and cold and the bread and sweet butter addictive. A classic example of doing only one thing but doing it superlatively well.
Chagall ceiling – Opéra Garnier
Adrift on wine and oysters we wandered our way home through the Tuileries, fresh, green and thronged with people and so home to prepare for a night at the Opera. V had given me tickets for my birthday but the only opera playing while we are here is Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel. Dinner at home from some very nice things from an italian traiteur down the block and a walk to the Opéra Garnier, the old Paris opera house of Phantom of the Opera fame. If there was ever an example of over-the-top architectural exuberance, it would be the interior of the Garnier. I only had my iphone so pictures are problematic but the ceiling is a bright cheerful Chagall mural at complete odds with its surroundings. Opera very odd, both the work and the staging, but reading the french surtitles is probably the best way to learn a language. Walked home and stopped for cheese and wine at a bar/resto another of David Lebovitz’s suggestions along the way, and home to bed.
Virginia said: As Gerry got off the train in Aix and the doors locked behind him, I remembered the one hard and fast rule that Ann Alton and I had a million years ago when we were bumbling around Europe with a Eurail pass…”NEVER,EVER get off the train!!” It still seems to be the cardinal rule. I was sure they wouldn’t let G on the train but I couldn’t see what was happening out my locked door window. Needless to say, I was very glad to see him happily settling into the wrong seats in the wrong car. Fortunately, I think the conductor took mercy on us and didn’t make us move again. Our apartment here is lovely, big and airy. It’s decor is more modern than we are, with a very low sofa and beds, so we creak a bit. Amazing modern appliances, we regularly need to find the instruction books to figure out how to turn things on. I’m going to have to replace everything at home, though, these are quite wonderful. The opera was fun, if a bit peculiar. My seat was a fold-down that tucks in at the end of a row. Each row seems to have one of these and when they are all occupied there is no aisle left; cannot imagine what would happen in the event of a fire! The seats are all designed for much smaller people than we are and the fold down was particularly tiny…and not padded. I squirmed a lot but easily survived. Lots of kids at the opera, and not a sound from any of them. We did have an exciting moment as were were leaving the opera. As G. was starting down the long marble staircase he gazed heavenward to the ceiling. That meant his foot missed the step and he started a long pirouette down the staircase. Following my dutiful three steps behind him I had visions of a human avalanche as he spun into the crowd of people on the stairs below him. The only good thing I could think of was at least he would be on top of the pile…. not a particularly gracious thought, I realize. Fortunately everyone somehow managed to keep their footing and he eventually righted himself, but it was a very long few seconds. We were glad to stretch our legs and walk home…before landing with a glass of wine and a basket of cheeses and a dish of duck fat fried potatoes just to hold us until morning!
Yesterday’s red sky at night was a snare and a delusion; could hear the rain drumming on the roof overnight and it greeted us when we rose to start the day.
There are a number of villages perchés, old medieval towns built on the heights of the highlands in the region that we have been wanting to visit, but had delayed since there was not much point of driving up in the rain only to be greeted by cloud-covered vistas when we reached the top, but since today was our last day we decided to go anyway.
Luberon valley from Bonnieux
Chugged our way up the hills to Bonnieux, where there was a restaurant that had been recommended and arrived at its doors as the town clock struck twelve. The restaurant was not yet open but fortunately we stuck our head in the door and made a reservation for 12:30 when it opened. I say fortunately because, as it was May Day and a holiday, the town was full and when we returned at 12:30 for our table, the place was packed and people were being turned away. The restaurant, Le Fournil with a little terrace in front, is built back into the mountainside and perched on the side of the sharply inclined main street that climbs from the bottom of the village to the top. Wonderful lunch, my starter was a terrine of rabbit, and V was again very lucky in her choice of soups, a creamy velouté of asparagus that was one of the best things she has ordered since we arrived. We each then had a perfectly grilled piece of hake on fresh spring vegetables and finished with a shared bowl of fresh strawberries in mascarpone. Wonderful restaurant and a wonderful lunch; someone in the kitchen has a very light hand.
When we had entered the restaurant it was grey and overcast and because we were inside the hill at the back of the restaurant we could not see what was happening outside. Imagine our surprise and pleasure therefore when we stepped outside into brilliant sunshine and a cloudless blue sky. In the space of 90 minutes the weather had completely rearranged itself as if to give us at least a brief taste of what we have been missing. Stunning views from Bonnieux out over the Luberon valley and so into our car in the dazzling sunshine to explore.
Town square – SaignonMountaintop cemetery – Saignon
Wended our way over the highland plateau covered in dusty green lavender fields, and even this early in the year, the air faintly perfumed with their scent, to a spectacular little village perched on the top of a mountain, Saignon, built between the remains of a ruined medieval fortress on one peak and the town church on the other peak. Walked the sloping streets of the tiny town and clambered and climbed the ruins of the fortress and just enjoyed the town and the views. Finished off by sitting in the sun at the town’s boule ground and watching the ferocious competition of two teams comprised, without distinction as to age or gender, of some of the town’s residents battling it out, with comments freely given by spectators and players alike for good shots and bad.
Luberon valley from Saignon
Through the afternoon sun to our little house where V actually sat on our terrace and soaked up the sun, while I wrote this. We will miss our home of the last 10 days; it worked remarkably well for us. Close to everything and in this part of Provence nothing is farther than 10 or 15k’s away and yet out in the country where we could enjoy the quiet of the countryside. The house is used by the owners when they spend time in France and is rented when they are not occupying it so it is equipped as a home with all the stuff and equipment that we all like in our homes to give us comfort and does not feel like a space that has been created simply to rent. A home not a rental property and we can’t say enough good things about it. Do think about it if you want to spend time in this part of the world, Les Roux.
Boules players – Saignon
Virginia said: What a peculiar day this was, weather wise. The one part that Gerry left out is that we headed out in the morning to the Marché Potier, that was being held in Tour D’Aigues, just down the road and a lovely town. The market had been much advertised in the area and we were looking forward to it. Well, the good news is that pottery doesn’t mind if it gets wet, the bad news is that it was raining so hard that there was nobody there! We did our rounds of the stands and, fortunately, there was nothing irresistible (we already have a large pitcher that I’m not sure how to transport, see yesterday’s post). We felt very sorry for the vendors, who were huddled under umbrellas and emerged only to empty their bowls of rain. Our decision to head up to Bonnieux and the vicinity was more grim determination than any sense we would actually see much, so G’s description of the weather turning was truly amazing. We spent a lovely hour in Saignon watching the boules players and it actually got quite warm. Along the way we drove into Buoux, which is a major lavender growing area. Nothing open, so I couldn’t load us up on lavendar, probably just as well, but the fields of lavender just starting to turn green were beautiful and the air was perfumed. All in all it was just so lovely to be warm in the sun and to see some blue sky. We hate to leave tomorrow….
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