French Laundry

No, not the restaurant.   Actual french laundry.  

I was thrilled this morning.  Woke up at the crack of dawn, caffeinated myself with some tea, mapped out by delicious itinerary for the day including a hunt for fabulous macaroons, a stop at a famous bookstore and ample time sitting around at a café down the street.   

My bright eyed self decided that since it was so early, I could squeeze in a quick laundry cycle first.     This weekend, I considered seeing if I could make it without doing laundry until I head home.  Although I loved doing laundry in Rome, the air drying process turned all of my clothes into stiff cardboard facades.   It has taken a week or so, but my various pairs of jeans are now all in the perfect state of softness and comfort.    Then, the past two days happened and everything sort of degenerated into comfort coated in dirt.   Not good.   So… laundry time it is.

I have no idea how to work the machine here.   It apparently washes AND dries.  Intriguing.  I play around with the buttons for awhile, crumple up some soap tablets in one of the three open slots and wait for something to happen.   Nothing happens.

I am not backing down.  I had already sorted my clothes and they are in the machine to stay until they come out smelling fresh and clean.    I search around the apartment for instructions.   There must be instructions somewhere.

The apartment guide has a huge caution written in several places.   Warning:   Do not use appliances until you have carefully read the instructions.   Right.  Thanks.

Consider checking the comments book from prior guests.   Sometimes these have useful tidbits.    Lo and behold, an entry dated back to sometime in 2008 giving precise instructions on how to use the machine.    Each button has a clear instruction.   Fabulous.  I give it a whirl.

The whirl started around 7 this morning.  I am sure my neighbors were thrilled when the machine kicked into high gear.    The thing is, it is now 11:15 and it is still going.   FOUR HOURS later.   Four hours.    There are a bunch of buttons still lit up and I see my clothes spinning around inside calling for me to rescue them.   I am tempted to disrupt the cycle but fear causing permanent damage.   Do not exactly have anything set aside in budget to cover this expense.  

Sigh.   My perfectly planned day is going down the tubes.    Oh, and did I mention that one of the lit up lights on the machine has 9h written next to it.    Please, please don’t tell me this means 9 HOURS.    

I miss my Rome laundry.   Even if it meant waiting 48 hours for my jeans to dry and having to break in crunchy undergarments.

Please note:   this post precedes a previously planned update on my visit to Montmarte this weekend simply because I am desperate.     

If there is someone out there reading this that has a clue as to what I’ve done wrong, please share.   It appears I’ll be here for some time… 

Little Stuff Sunday - Life in Paris

Some days are big stuff days and some days are little stuff days.   The big stuff days are reserved for doing all of the things that you should because you are somewhere and that’s just what you do when you are there.    To illustrate, in Paris, the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame are appropriate examples.  

The little stuff, in contrast, is the stuff that you do that connects you with a culture, makes you feel part of a place, like you are home.    In Paris, things like sitting at cafes, grabbing a fresh baguette on your way back home or deciding that you are going to air dry your hair into its natural state for the remainder of your trip.    

To make it a little more complicated, even on the big stuff days I always do some little stuff.   Helps keep me grounded and feel less like a crazed tourist.    My writing pattern on the big stuff days usually goes something like this, “I did this, then I did this, then I did this…etc.”.

Every once in a while you just need a day that is entirely about the little stuff.     Sundays are particularly good for this.   If you were to look back at my prior Sundays, you’d note that most often these are the days that I wander around and do nothing but people watch and eat.     Try to keep it simple.   Helps me to get my energy back and refocuses me on why I really enjoy traveling.    

Today was Sunday!   Was looking forward to it as I have been pounding the pavement pretty hard and getting run down from all of my cultural absorption.     It just so happens that today was also Biodiversity Day 2010.   Well, to be honest, I’m not positive it was actually today, but let’s say for the sake of this story that it was sometime this weekend.    I’ll also add that I am writing out of order because today is so fresh in my mind.   You’ll find Saturday crops up at a later point with a similar theme on a much smaller scale.

Back to my Sunday.   Slept in.   Less sleeping in than getting up at 6:30 and hanging out in my bed for several hours drinking tea and doing lots of nothing.    Sometime around 11 I decided that perhaps I should get up and join the world.   In my defense, I had my windows wide open and it was deathly quiet outside so I must not have been the only one taking it slow.   

Besides the fact that everyone on my little street was kept awake between the hours of 3 and 5 this morning by thumping sounds of “Funky Town”, a bizarre “I Touch Myself” remix (by the Divinyls) and various Blacked Eye Peas and Lady Gaga tunes.      I, of course, have lived in fear of making any noise after 9pm as my little instruction book indicates Parisians desire quiet and get rather upset if someone disrupts the evening and early morning peace.   So here I am, suddenly wide awake due to the after hours club someone in our building is running and finding myself, yes, rather upset.    I guess I am getting old.    I bury my head under two pillows and eventually fell back asleep.   The lazy morning was not only desired, but also necessary.

Let’s get back on topic which was my planned lazy Sunday filled with little stuff in celebration of Biodiversity Day. 

It was one of those insanely gorgeous days that you just want to bottle up and bring home with you.    First day I actually had to shed the outer layer in order to stay comfortable. 

Ventured out and headed in the general direction of Champs Elysees.  If I forgot to mention above, it is closed off from traffic for three days this weekend, filled with plants.    Brilliant, I thought.   Fabulous way to spend a Sunday doing a little bit of nothing.  I’ll just meander around up enjoying the greenery and breathing a little traffic free fresh air.   

Before I get there I am diverted in the direction of Les Halles and Saint Eustache church.  There was a market I remembered I wanted to check out on rue Montorgueil.     Kind of a neat area filled with cafes, less ritzy shops and some modern architecture thrown in to give it somewhat of an eclectic feel.   Eventually found my pedestrian only market street, squeezed in a little café people watching, waded through puddles of post market street cleaning water and then headed back to the church.   

From the church, I go out to the Louvre where I hear my favorite pick up line to date.   "You?  Me?  Champs Elysees?"  Classic.   Simple in delivery and yet perfectly cliche when spoken with a heavy french accent.   Still makes me giggle.  

After the Louvre and its distractions, I take the usual route out into the gardens.   At this point, it has gotten really hot.    The sun is reflecting off of the white sandy paths and causing me complete blindness.   Additionally, the white sandy paths are throwing up flying dust everywhere.  I feel myself being coated.   I brave the elements and spend some time with the boats on the pond and then get the heck out of there.   For such a beautiful place, it was really intense.  I felt like I was in the desert.  I was craving shade.

I am getting excited at this point.  Biodiversity day on the Champs Elysees.  It just sounds cool.    I wonder curiously why everyone is sort of walking with me as I leave the gardens and head in that direction.   I eventually realize in horror that every single person has likely had the exact same idea as me.    I honestly contemplate heading in another direction but felt like that would be wimpy of me and if I walked all this way through the blinding hot desert, I would most certainly reach my destination goal.    Press on.

There must have been a gazillion people out today.     Masses upon masses of dusty, hot people in search of plants.    The strangest thing.    I thought about it though and understand that Paris has had a long winter and I think this was the first really hot summer like day of the season.  It takes forever to reach the ultimate destination and by the time I do, I realize this is pointless.    There are too many people walking shoulder to shoulder to see anything.  When I finally did squeeze through about a third of the way up, I see that the very middle is filled with low to the ground planters of things like grass and what looks like weeds.    I decide that I am done.  I celebrated biodiversity and I am going home to take a shower.

All of that build up in my mind for something that didn’t really exist.   Or maybe it did and I just turned away before I hit the really good part.  Oh well.   In my reflection on the day, I will say that despite the heat and dirt and lack of actually doing anything, it was still a marvelous as I was out in the sun, soaking up vitamin D and feeling quite alive.   That and I did pause for a bit to think about what biodiversity means to me and I suppose that was probably one of the key goals of the event anyway.   And if that is what it means to celebrate biodiversity in my own little way, then it was a success.   

On the way home, I pick up a piping hot fresh baguette from the corner boulangerie, a bunch of petite radishes, a gorgeous looking tomato, some kind of cheese and my favorite cornichons.  I have a bottle of beautifully chilled rose (with the little accent mark missing) waiting to be opened and a picnic to be had.     Life is good.    

Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend and found some time to see the beauty in the little stuff. 

Perfect Parisian Day

A park.   A church.   A museum.   Lots of walking in between.  One more fabulous day in Paris.

Fresh from the recent photography class, I am once again rejuvenated and ready to hit the streets.    My mission today is the Jardin du Luxembourg.    From there, I have no plan other than to go wherever I end up.    A great way to travel I think.   Especially when you have time on your side. 

A short walk from my apartment to the Seine and across Ile de la Cite and approach the gardens from Boulevard St. Michel.    Walk through the gates and up the path approaching the Palais du Luxembourg.   The main attraction here, for me anyway, are the gardens and park like atmosphere.     

Everything feels bright to me here under the Paris morning sun.   I always feel like I need to shade my eyes.   The white paths, the sparkling teal water, the bright green leafy trees.   Everything shimmers with bright light.    The palace stands at the front overlooking a vast display of fountains, paths and leafy corners.    Little rows of neatly ordered flowers.    Green metal chairs positioned throughout, filled with people sitting, reading, chatting, napping in the sun.   

My goal was to spend some time at the Fountain des Medicis, tucked away off to the right of the palace when you are facing it.     Set amongst the green trees in a shady, quiet, cool and calming corner.   Very peaceful.  The still water of the long pool in front of the fountain perfectly reflects the surroundings.    As I was there, there were half a dozen or so artists sketching the fountain.  It was a very relaxing spot.    Beautiful. 

After wandering around a bit, I head back out to explore the St. Germain area.    Lots of beautiful boutiques and little cafes line the streets.     Eventually run into Saint Sulpice, a church you may be familiar with from the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown.   The huge church just sort of popped out of nowhere for me.   Right in the middle of this little street stands this enormous and dark looking structure.    Took me awhile to walk around it and find the entrance.    This is a significant church, second in size to Notre Dame in Paris.  The ceilings soar, small chapels tucked around the sides and an enormous center is filled with wooden chairs.  I was thrilled to catch a small ray of light illuminating the floor near the back of the church.   

From here, I leave to do some more wandering.   I seriously want to stop at one of the inviting cafes, but I know if I stop that will be it for the afternoon for me.   Once I eat or drink anything, forget it, it is all over.     I have to save that for later in the day.   

I end up at the Musee D’Orsay.    My favorite museum in Paris.   I have some other favorites, but this is the one I imagine when I think about this city.     The museum was built in an old train depot and I think it is just the perfect structure for the collection.   An impressionist lovers dream, this place is full of gorgeous works from all of your favorites, Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh.    Everywhere you turn is a little room full of paintings you learned about in school.     The soaring ceilings and windows flood the entire building with light and perfectly highlight the interior sculpture section which is more than beautiful on its own.     I could sit here for hours and contemplate, but there is just so much to see to sit for too long.   

I adore this place.  I lost track of time as usual and spent the remaining part of my afternoon here.   I did have one complete surprise as I wandered the top floor.   I had never been to the Decorative Arts section.  If you go, I advise you to stay and check it out.  I know the focus is on the impressionist paintings, but there is much more to see.    I walked around a corner and ran into the most beautiful room I have ever seen, the Salle des Fetes.     Full of gold and cream, mirrors and chandeliers, exquisite details.   Elegant to the extreme.   The lighting is perfect.   You actual feel beautiful in this room.   I walked in and said to myself, wouldn’t this be a perfect place for a wedding reception?   I will keep dreaming, but truly, gorgeous.   It used to be the ballroom for the Hotel d’Orsay.   Don’t miss this.  

I heeded the warnings not to take photographs in this museum.   They were posted everywhere.   I think I was probably the only one following the rules.   I had another fabulous visit here and it was a perfect way to spend the afternoon.    My feet are killing me at this point, so I start out on the long walk back to my apartment.   Time to rest for a bit.      

There is just so much to see in Paris.  I am exhausted thinking about it.  I believe you could spend forever here and not really scratch the surface.      

Well, as usual, I’m off to give it another attempt.     Au revoir!