France Day 2: Montmartre in the Rain

The first part of our second day was spent moving to another hotel. We had to change hotels because we booked the trip late and couldn't get a nice place with a room for three nights. We are now in the 5th, very close to the Sorbonne, at Hotel Albe. Our room has an incredible view and although it is not nearly as quiet as the last one, it is beautiful, clean, and bright. It's also extremely close to the metro/RER and general good sightseeing.

After checking in--which we were surprised we could do so early--we decided to go to Montmartre.

It was a close call between that and Chateau de Chantilly and Chateau Malmaison, both of which were outside Paris. Ultimately, we decided to go to Montmartre because it was easy to get to even though I was worried it would be a tourist trap.

We took the metro to the Abessess stop, where our adventure began.

I followed the exit signs in the subway to a narrow winding stairway with walls covered in bright murals that were covered in graffiti. It led up and up and up and up and...you get it.

I was ahead of everyone, listening to the grumps and groans of the herd below. Knowing how much further they had to go, I enjoyed a perverse, slightly evil giggle.

Meanwhile, my dad was telling everyone that there was an elevator at the bottom they all should have taken.

Once everyone reached the top and recovered from their cardiac near-event, we hit the streets.

It started to rain a bit, so we stopped at the busiest cafe, Le Progres, at a fork in the road to wait it out. My parents both had vegetable tempura risotto that everyone drooled over. I had a salad. It was good, but not a picture-perfect risotto.

After a slow lunch and a nice chat with a couple from Minnesota, we went back out. The rain, unfortunately, picked up. So we slowly made our way over to Sacre Coeur.

I climbed the stairs and my parents took the funicular. Apparently they could have used our extra metro passes. . .but I had them. . .so they ended up paying again. Whoops!

Sacre Coeur was beautiful but I was expecting something more grand inside, I think. The exterior was far more stunning to me and the view over the grey, rain-soaked city was a treat.

There was also a service going on inside so I felt like we were all intruding as we walked silently around a roped-off track around the outside. At the same time, it was also interesting to see and the hymns sounded beautiful in French.

It was still raining when we left, so we just embraced the weather and went wandering.

We stumbled on a street full of fabric stores that lined both sides. One, Moline, had a few large storefronts and the most tempting color combinations, patterns, and textures.

My mom and I were both inspired. Even my dad thought it was amazing.

I took a couple of stealthy photos, made some mind-notes, and we rolled out.

Back at the hotel, we asked the woman at the front desk where she would send friends or family to eat nearby. She gave us a couple of options and we chose Chez Fernand on Rue Christine.

We got a reservation and when we arrived, the place was packed. Packed with English-speakers. Often a bad sign. Some English is totally expected and ok, but on a Friday evening? I hoped it would be more mixed.

The wines we wanted were all apparently out of stock so the manager came over and recommended something else. It was more expensive but he promised it would be full bodied and good-drinking. Honestly, it was disappointing.

I had bone marrow to start and boeuf bourginon for my main. The marrow was good and the bourginon was fine but not legendary like the promised. It's my favorite dish and my dad honestly makes it better.

Ultimately, it was a meal that didn't really deliver, especially considering the cost. And it felt a bit like an upscale tourist trap.

Don't get me wrong, everyone was nice but it just had that feeling. And just to be clear, I have no problem being a tourist or eating with other tourists--meeting other travelers is one of the best parts of travel for me. We even met great people that might. But it felt like this place had been created so hotels could shuttle us there for "authentic" cuisine.

I guess that's what you get in the Latin Quarter more often than not, though.

Now for some pictures!

France Day 1: Plane Rides and Paris

I'm currently sitting at a cafe on Rue de la Harpe waiting for the pichet of Bordeaux to arrive as the cool rain taps the awning. We arrived yesterday after an eventful and somewhat harrowing flight from Toronto. Sometime after being hit in the face with a pillow and having my head sneezed on, the elderly woman behind me lost consciousness. They called for a doctor (just like in the movies!) and carried her off to the galley. Long story short, she ended up being fine (as in even giggling and bebopping around), thankfully, but the whole thing was pretty scary.

Another woman near us ended up getting really sick for the last hour and a half of the flight. That's one of my worst nightmares. She looked a very pale shade of green when she got off so I hope she's better now.

Needless to say, it felt like we were sitting in the cursed section of the plane and I'm extremely happy we are here now.

I will do more detailed posts of the places we see later when we get home, but these posts will have a few highlights.

Our first day was amazing. The weather was perfect: cool and crisp and sunny.

We checked into the Hotel Palais Bourbon in a quiet part of the 7th, but had to wait until 1 to get to our room.

I, however, was ready to commit some unspeakable crime if I didn't get something edible in my belly soon. (Hey, Air France, your food vendor in Toronto blows. And that's being generous.)

So we found a pastry shop nearby, Maison Pradier, and shared 2 pain aux raisins, a chausson aux pommes, and a delicious bread stick thing that had gruyere and lardons. It all hit the spot.

Next was the Rodin museum and garden, which was just a stone's throw from our hotel.

I fell in love immediately. The museum sections hold gorgeous marble, plasters, and bronze sculptures. Yes, the famous Kiss is there and the Thinker is outside, but there are so many more beautiful pieces. I think my favorite ended up being The Earth and The Moon.

I loved the mix of softness and life that seemed to morph from the rough, hard stone.

But the best part for me was the garden. I wandered off on my own, completely enchanted by all the little surprises it held, from the amazing roses to the evocative sculptures.

I will post a few pics at the end of the post since I'm doing this on my phone and can't format nearly as well as I usually can.

It was all so peaceful, calming, and lovely.

We went back to our hotel at 1 and had a bit if a powwow. We finally decided on checking out Rue Cler to see if any of the markets were out.

On the walk, we got sidetracked when Basilica Sainted Clotilde appeared seemingly out if nowhere. A bunch of kids were playing in front of it, giggling and zooming by on scooters. It felt like a perfect movie scene.

This is when I realized that September might be my favorite time of year in Paris. It's cool but not cold and the locals are back. It feels like a real, breathing, beautiful city.

Usually we are here in August when it feels like most of the locals are on vacation. Shops are closed. Traffic is quieter. It feels a little less alive even if is no less beautiful. Just different.

Most places still had their fresh, tempting produce neatly stacked outside. There was a place roasting chickens that filled the area with an incredible smell and made my stomach rumble. Another store had bright flowers and bunches of gorgeous, deeply colored lavender. A gaggle of old men playing that horrible chicken dance song on trumpets hassled me and I gave them "the look."

We decided to sit and had a pitcher of wine at Cafe du Marche. We watched everyone walk by until the hunger hit.

We ate at a tiny restaurant near the hotel called Le Sac a Dos. They were booked for the night but fit us in early. We had to eat fairly quickly before the next reservations. I'm usually a big fan of long, leisurely dinners but quick was ok since we were exhausted and wanted to sleep early.

Everyone there was great.

The owner was a character--friendly, funny, and no nonsense. A small window behind my dad looked into the kitchen where on chef would look out and chat with us from time to time.

The main chef was late. When she arrived and found out she had us and a few other unexpected guests to contend with, she smiled and went, "je l'attaque!"

All of us had salads and steak. Mine was the best, most tender. You could cut it with a fork.

When we asked about it, the owner goes "it's from Texas!"

I refused to believe him and we had a "Oui!!!/Non!!!" exchange for awhile.

I went to bed refusing to believe him.

France, Here I Come!

Whew! It has been more than a long time since I last updated Ham and Histoire. Life keeps happening in big ways and the blog tends to be neglected before the other stuff I have to work on. I feel terrible about it, but I would rather post when I can actually take the time to do something well than putting stuff out there just for the sake of it. I still have my Maryland trip to write about and will get to it eventually.

The next Maryland post will be about Camden Yards. If the O's keep doing such an awesome job, it might be good timing. Go O's! Fingers crossed, toes crossed, wearing an unwashed, stinky, cat food and mystery stained O's shirt.

Enough housekeeping. Onto the fun stuff.

I'm heading to France tomorrow! I'm going with my family and we will be in Paris and the French Riviera for a few weeks. If all goes well with the wi-fi at our rental, I will post as many updates and pictures as I can.

I'm. . .mostly packed. See?!

I would love to tell you all about my amazing packing skillz--yes with a z--now, but I can't. I wasn't any kind of expert this time around. There were even tears.

Really. (In my defense, it really has been a helluva couple of months so I may be a tad. . .what's the word I'm looking for? Ah yes. Nuts.)

But it all fits and I wont be naked, so that's good enough for me.

This is also possibly the least prepared, least researched I've ever been. I kind of like it. There's no real pressure to do anything but explore, eat great food (I'm coming, Pierre Hermé! Can you hear me? Prepare your strangest macarons for my belly, s'il vous plaît.), and drink great wine.

I will report back with my findings!