The Ups and Downs of Travel

I am supposed to like this, I know. I am, after all, a veteran traveler. For more than forty years I have traipsed around the globe learning by doing. Boy, do I have my degree, heck advanced degree in "Travel".

There is always something happening at home, of course, but crises are a little easier to handle in Anglais! Here my homeowner has left me quite un-connected with proper English-speaking reps.That has made all the newest, latest challenges more frustrating.I was without a phone for over a week and my elevator was down two days. I walked up the seven flights four different times on Sunday. That is like climbing a 28 story building! That and 90 plus degree weather make me want to pick up and go home to California.

Last week I went to an art exhibit, which clearly was not exactly my preference in art. I had never heard of Takeshi Kitano, Japanese actor, painter, television personality and celebrity-at-large. Now I have. With a little Picasso influence to his paintings and "exhibits" he was an interesting, talented "artist" but still you won't see his "art" decorating the walls of my home at any time. Unfortunately, they wouldn't allow my camera so I can't show you any of his art, but you can always Google him.

I did get to what I consider "good art": The Turner Exhibition was playing at the Grand Palais. I had to go and queque up for tickets first to avoid the long queques at the Grand Palais. What I then had to do was queque up with the people who had bought their tickets and wanted to avoid the lines. It was masses of humanity. Gads! This is the price of the ever-popular Paris. I managed to enjoy somehow what I saw but didn't linger with the crowds very long, I can tell you that.

I had dejeuner (lunch) at the most darling restaurant in the 4th. I was the only English speaking person there. Fortunately, my companion spoke fluent French and we had a gloriously wonderful lunch in perfect weather. It is a curious custom that the French almost always drink wine with lunch, and from my admittedly limited experience, plenty of it. We started with white wine, went on to rouge and I polished off a wonderful canard (duck) dish with morel sauce that was fabulous. Then on to the fromage!

I finally connected with an old girlfriend of mine. On Sunday we went to a big,outdoor show that was alleged to be an artistic representation of "Nature Capitale" on the Champs-Elysees. "Creator/Director" of street art, Gad Weil, turned the street into a huge field of corn twenty years ago (this is "art"?). Maybe I should save the scraps of garbage I have and announced something to the world Green "art". It would be a smash hit (except with the neighbors). It was supposed to represent the "fragile balance between human beings and their environment". Supposedly it formed a huge mosaic - testimony to biodiversity in France. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don't think so...

What it quickly,very quickly came to symbolize was a mass of humanity in 90 degree weather pushing and shoving to walk two meters. Gads, Robin and I hustled out of there as soon as we could. Not only was it an awful "mosaic" but because it was free half of Paris was there to looky-loo. The other half knew better.

Robin and I went then to my favorite park, Buttes Chaumont, sat down under a cool tree and had our picnic lunch. All the parks were packed, of course,with the other half of Paris. But if your eye wandered over the calm, pretty scene of rolling hills, trees, pond and waterfalls..if your intellect took in the diversity of Parisennes you could almost see artist, Pissaro, painting the families relaxing and playing. All we need were his dots to connect the past to the present. Actually I did see an artist (photo) although he was not exactly of Pizarro's league. I could have stayed there all day. I love this park.

There are two parks in my neighborhood, or arrondissment (19): Parc des Buttes Chaumont and Par de la Villette, which is only one block away from me. Villette is quite different. It parallels the canal near my apartment. It is filled with crazy, modern giant sculptures, several playgrounds, a carousel, rides, goodies for children, a restaurant, art museum (again modern to match the park theme), conseratorie of music and several other things. On Saturdays and Sundays there are concerts from 2-9 PM on and off all day. I can hear it from my apartment. It sounds quite alluring and should be fun to have a picnic with my son, Brian, when he finally arrives. The canal itself sports tourists boats and is double-sided with a walking path and biking path that leads out to the forest, which I expect to visit soon.

My neighborhood is a Kalidiscope of cultures, races and religious diversity. There are loads of Hasidic Jews, Muslims of all nationalities and Africans dressed in colorful tribal attire. And, because they have so many holy days (read holidays) there must be a major influx of Christians somewhere although there doesn't appear to be many churches. It seems odd to me that so many in Paris are Christians who benefit from the enormous amount of holy days (the last was Pentecost) because they take off for long weekends. Yet, other than the Italians, the French have rather liberal viewpoints and lifestyles compared to Americans. The worse part is that is is so far away from central Paris and its ambiance and charms.

Finally, I wish I didn't have the time to write this. I wish I was busy anticipating my son's arrival tomorrow morning. Instead, I need to get off this blog and continue fighting with American Airlines about allowing Brian to fly to Paris. They have really let us down (that is a nice way to put it) and due to a series of lack of communications, inaccurate communications between them and Brian's medical doctors, they told Brian hours ago that they were not allowing him to fly. My heart sunk. His spirit was crushed. And they waited till the day before his flight time to talk to him about it. Of course, old Mere (mother) here was immediately on the phone with a zillion people and I remain hopeful they will reschedule him in a day or two. But who knows? Better yet, in the airline industry who cares? I have planned a load of wonderful activities for him and pray he will get to experience that. We certainly have to work for everything, don't we? And in Brian's case we always have to fight for it.

Return to Paris

When I stepped off the plane on May 5 Paris was 40 degees. Bienvenue a Paris!
I was totally unprepared. It was spring for Pete's sake. I had one very thin spring jacket more for fashion than warmth. All my shoes were inappropriate. I had no gloves. If that weren't bad enough (never say it can't get any worse)it has rained on and off all day every day, which left me in a quandry of how to dress. Fortunately for me, the lady who's apartment I am renting told me I could wear any of her coats. She was a size smaller but I snuggled into those winter jackets and coats with my summer open-toed shoes and looked a little like an immigrant from the New World, which is exactly what I was. Humbling.

As always, it is a bit of adjustment to move across the world. Right now I have no phone in the apartment that is working. Have no idea why. I am always searching my new neighborhood for the services I need. Today I struck "gold". I found a nail lady to do my nails. This is the oddest little shop I have ever seen. One cannot open the door fully because there is a large post directly inside the entrance, which I presume cannot be removed because of structure security. I have to squeeze (glad I am not any bigger) around it to get inside. It has an over-powering aroma of chemicals and other strange smells that may necessitate my putting a pollution mask on to sit there and have them done next week. Directly next store I found a hair salon. To color and cut my hair the man will charge me 29 euros. Heck, it costs 25 euro for my nails in that hell hole! Could that be a red flag? He speaks no English but the English speaking customer having her hair done said he is very good (I liked her hair cut) so that ought to be an adventure, too!

To start, I am having a directly opposite experience in Paris than I did last fall. It seems I have angered somehow the Paris gods. I have nice dates I must admit but have never heard from them again. Apparently, one day with moi propells them off the face of the earth. Scary! I was invited to a wine tasting last week and happily went to it with a "date". No sooner did he hand over the ticket to me than he told me to go whereever I want; I did not have to stay with him...? Then the Paris gods whipped him off the face of the earth. Never saw or heard from him again(Do I have spinach in my teeth?). Still I managed to go through three huge rooms of tables set up with French wines and give it the old college try. Lots of fun! The first night here I had a lovely evening with a charming Turkish man. We went to dinner in the 6th. He seemed quite interested when he purchased a bottle of Domaine Des Billards Saint-Amour to honor me, he stated proudly. I loved the wine. No, it had nothing to do with the name, Saint-Amour. Really. Is there a Saint-Amour? Only the Frenchies know for sure, but it sounded realistic to me (I was under its influence). Anyway, leave it to them to name a wine that has to be a knock out big seller just because of the label, which I took home with me. Pour me another one, my cheri. Never saw him again; his family will miss him.

And I know I logged about the long queques last time, but somehow they haven't improved in my absence. I want to be a consultant to these business people and tell them how easy it would be to shorten the lines and lengthen the customers' tempers. I could make a lot of money and maybe receive the Nobel Peace Prize.

In between cloudy skies and inclement weather I managed to get to Opera Garnier three times for opera tickets to wait in the long queques and then be told to come back tomorrow. When I couldn't get any available opera seats I, in my American practical wisdom, went to Craig's List and found an Opera Ticket for last night: Les Contes d'Hoffmann. It wasn't on my priorty list but I like to see operas in Paris. And it was at Opera Bastille, which is easier for me to travel to from my apartment. I negotiated the ticket price (ah, the nerve of me!) and paid 69 euros for a first balcony seat. I am not crazy about Opera Bastille. It is very stark plain and has steep steps, but I have to give them credit for their tremendous abilities at impressive staging. It just amazed me as they changed the scenery from one eleborate setting to another with dozens and dozens of ensemble cast. It was the shortest 3 1/2 hour opera I have ever seen. The ensemble casts tend to be first-class. I didn't go with any date so the population in Paris didn't decrease last night.

I also went to Craig's List and bought a ticket to see a short program with Mikhail Baryshnikov in June. I saw him twenty years ago in Phoenix, where he was booed because of his eccentric presentation of his ballet company. At that time we paid $300 for our tickets and an additional amount to attend a reception he was supposed to be at. In the June program he is dancing three solo numbers and one with a French (also dinosaur)female ballet star, Anna Laguna, who takes top billing! I was charged a mere $45 euro for the program, which was the higher price of ticket offerings. For Baryshinikov?! And even though I had that previous bad experience with his performance I wanted to see him again (and I could even afford it!) one more time before he goes to meet God. He's an antique in the ballet world.

Finally, I dragged a nice friend to Opera Garnier yesterday and it was opening up tickets for a ballet La Petite Danseuse de Degas at Opera Garnier and I purchsed a really good ticket in the orchestra for July.

What all this ups and downs has taught me is to remember that Paris sells tickets many months ahead of time. If I want to go to the Ballet or Opera I should have ordered from home. Dummy. I remember that by now.

My mood fluctuates constantly based on the mercy of the weather god. But as the weather broke last weekend I am feeling better today. On Saturday I went for a one hour power walk, came home showered, changed and went off and walked for seven more sunny hours! I loved it! Did the same the next day (minus the power walk) and bought some new clothes which I love.

I bought a membership in the Musee d'Orsay, which I should have done last September. It allows me to go to their special exhibits free and half price at their concerts. I have already attend one opera there and one classical concert. They had one beastly exhibit called Crime and Punishment. In the middle of all these morbid paintings I started to giggle. All I could think of was that the audience who attended and admired that exhibit were scarier than the exhibit. Why would human beings want to see paintings of mothers chopping up their children? Gross! But for me, free, because I am a member. Such a deal! Lucky me, I giggled.

One day, stuck in the rain, I remembered a song from decades ago called "Hello Mudder, Hello Fudder". Here is my partial rendition of that song:

"Bonjour Mudder, bonjour faddur,
Here I am back in my Paris
Paris is very entertaining and I'm sure
I'll have some fun if it stops raining.

It is dark and gloomy! Can this be my Paris?
There is no sun out there on my terrace.
Life is dull, life is boring
and I'm sure I'll have some fun when it stops pouring.

Cloudy skies,rainy weather, what a bore
that I forgot what I came here for.

Wait a minute, it stopped raining!
It stopped, pouring, it stopped hailing!
The sun is out now, Gee that's better.
Gee, mon ami, kindly disregard this letter!"

OK, so I am not a poet, but you get the idea. The weather is favored now by the Sun god! I say bienvenue to him. High time he reared his beautiful head.

Gotta run. Right now, I have to get ready for a date...should I call his family to say their farewells?