Giverny

The next day we visited Giverny, where Impressionist painter Claude M. lived and painted his most well-known works. We explored his garden where we saw the original water lilies and the foot bridges that serve as the subjects in many of his paintings.

VK’s Surprise B-Day in Paris

AD took VK to Paris where we met up with them to celebrate her b-day. We kicked off the day with breakfast at Laduree, the first of the two visits we’d make there that day. From Arc de Triomphe, we walked down the Avenue de Champs Elysees through Jardin des Tuileries to the Louvre. We walked across the Seine to the Latin Quarter and then made our way to the Tour Eiffel where we enjoyed the year’s first rays of summer sun.

Americans in Paris

We four had already done our fair share of sightseeing in Paris, so when M&I met G&C this weekend in the City of Lights, we focused more on enjoying the local cuisine which we interspersed with lengthy walks around the city. Both mornings we dined on an assortment of high-sucrose baked goods at our favourite bakery, Kayser’s (croissants wrapping a thin almandine paste, cookies cavernous like Mars and embedded with equally other-worldly chocolate chips, freshly-baked bread generously flavoured with raisins). It tasted good to be in Paris.

After a country-French lunch of fish and white wine at Peres Et Filles, we walked along the Seine and over to the Louvre before meandering through Tuilleries Garden and making a U-turn turning around at the Obelisk to make our way back to Notre Dame. Over hot chocolate with Jurgen S., the “Grandfather of South African Photography” and his wife Claudia at Brasserie Balzar in the Latin Quarter, I listened to the couple’s earnest description of working conditions in South African farms in return for the photographer’s support for WfWI’s 2009 fundraising initiatives. The discussion concluded with teasing out all the factors that contribute to poverty in South Africa: the spread of AIDS, the lack of natural resources such as water and arable land due to environmental disaster, illiteracy and the legacy of apartheid. I asked about Nelson M., a question the couple clearly heard quite often, to which they responded by exchanging a knowing glance and simultaneously saying he has a “great wit” despite having been in jail for decades. 2009 is a big year for them as they have a jam-packed European exhibition tour which they juggle with their philanthropic work. Their biggest concern when giving is learning where the money actually goes, a question the recent Economist reported as leaving the countries for which aid is raised and instead entering corrupt leaders’ wallets via international banking institutions.

http://www.jurgenschadeberg.com/

From the Champs de Elysee we made our way to Buddha-Bar near the U.S. Embassy for a pre-dinner drink. What a small world we live in: only twenty-four hours previous I was in London’s BB on the Thames and now in the Paris location with friends who were in New York only twelve hours earlier. At Les Deux Magots, an old and reliable haunt in the Latin Quarter, we dined on duck confit and chicken salads, club sandwiches, wine and a macaron the size of my hand.

In the Musee d’Orsay we saw many of the classical works that make the museum’s collection so world famous. However, I especially enjoy the museum for its design; previously a train station, the skylights offer a soft, natural light which splashes the sculpture garden below. At the Restaurant du Petit St. Benoit we had a beef stew which rivalled our last one (ironically also with G&C in Dublin last May). The clock was ticking and there was still more dining to be had, so we made our way to La Duree, the city’s most famous patisserie where we shared an array of macarons (vanilla, raspberry, chocolate, pistachio), vanilla ice cream and strawberry sorbet to clean the palate.

Sucrose Marathon

Dinner at the pretentious Brasserie Lipp was an “interesting” experience of cultural class. Our waiter reacted quite emphatically to my question about whether we could have an English-language menu, and he wore an attitude like a socialite does her new Louis Vuitton bag—proudly and with a sense of entitlement. We walked by the Eiffel Tower in time for the 10pm light show where the building sparkled like a Tiffany’s loose diamond pendent; the Parisian icon still disperses magic over the city like a careless angel generous with her fairy dust.

While M continued his global ice cream taste tests in Paris, I chose to freely indulge in the hot chocolate. The Ritz and Versailles restaurant did not disappoint, but it was at Laduree on the Champs Elysee where the hot chocolate inspired understanding in why the Aztecs called it the “food of the gods”. We also enjoyed the macaroons (vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, and raspberry) which we then topped off with chestnut ice cream. In true American style, we waddled back to the Latin Quarter, swearing we would never again participate in another sucrose marathon knowing full well we would be eager to breakfast at Kaiser’s the next morning which we did before visiting Notre Dame on the Seine and making our way back home.

Versailles

Having just taught three books that span World Wars I and II, it was timely that we visted Versailles where the end of WWI was negotiated. Siegfried S., Pat B.’s hero in Regeneration, takes issue with the fact that men die at the front when the decisions to end or continue war are made by powerful men with old family names who sit in high-level government positions, men who need only sign a treaty to end war. Butler Stevens in Kazuo I.’s The Remains of the Day describes how world politics took place in the drawing rooms of famous houses, similarly acknowledging that the significant blood shed on the battlefield plays a less than significant role in deciding when or how a war ends.

After visiting the Hall of Mirrors, we strolled through the estate’s expansive gardens which proved the highlight of our excursion to Versailles. Classical music blared from carefully-hidden speakers as we made our way through the maze of gardens that make up the estate, many of which are organized around a central sculpture nestled in a fountain. The 3:30pm fountain show was worth the wait and at that moment the gardens came alive.

I heart Paris

A confessed creature of habit and slave to my self-imposed exercise regimen (lots of yoga and runs through nearby parks), one of the reasons why I love to travel is because it is the only time I free myself of what Thoreau would describe as my “hobgoblins.” Somehow, in Paris, chocolate-chip cookies from Kaiser’s are a worthy breakfast, taking long naps in the late afternoon an acceptable weekend activity, and eating ice cream after lunch and dinner a perfectly normal way to conclude a meal. I can understand why the streets still swam with smoking Parisians despite the ban; enjoying life, even if it may cause to shorten it, is an art worth striving to perfect, like the city has its design, food, music and fashion. But what I love most about Paris and many of the other cities I’ve visited, particularly in Spain and Italy, is the citizens’ unabashed, shameless desire to live well. While working in London these last two-and-a-half years I’ve formed close professional relationships with people from the continent, many of whom I’ve gotten to know even better as of late. I love how they pursue their day to maximize their pleasure, whether by partaking in a good meal, engaging in debate, or even by simply enjoying the fresh air.

Paris Re-Visited

“My employer” as butler Stevens in Kazuo I.’s The Remains of the Day would say, has an office in Paris’s first arrondissement near the Tuileries Gardens. A former hotel, its conference rooms  have a 19^th-century sense of interior design that French clients in particular appreciate: frescoes filled with angels are painted into the ceilings and plush carpeting matches the gold wallpaper. The only hint of America’s New World penetration into the Old World culture is the dark photograph of my company’s founder. Wearing a black suit that blends into the likewise black background, his head is a luminescent white, like the full moon, and his bulbous nose generously remodeled by the painter who exercised a liberal sense of artistic license.

Magazine covers of a happy, recently-freed Ingrid B., tabloid photographs of France’s first couple, outdoor seating from the Tour de France, and remnants of Fashion Week decorate Paris—a fashion photo exhibit still decorates Place Vendome—and the upcoming Bastille Day celebrations are already in full swing. After drinks at the Ritz (ironically, I still haven’t visited nearby London’s Ritz), I strolled through the Tuileries Gardens until I reached the Pyramid and the Louvre. Across the Seine, I met M on St. Germain de Pres’s Les Deux Magots in the Latin Quarter. Over pate & duck salad accompanied by a raspberry macaroon (both satisfied culinary expectations), we reflected on how our last trip to Paris together was two-and-a-half years ago; Paris was our first destination after moving to London. Although our lives have changed, Paris hasn’t—it’s a beautiful city not only for its architecture and Seine, but also for its surprises. Where else do mimes traverse Boulevard St. Germain and young students spontaneously break out in Italian opera on the street corner?

Sacre-Coeur

We concluded our weekend by heading north to Sacre-Coeur; it was our first time ever visiting the church. The Sacre-Coeur is a Catholic church built in the late nineteenth-century designed with both Romanesque and Byzantine aesthetics in mind. It is a beautifully hybrid structure set on a hill; we walked the 230-odd steps to where the cathedral sits. From the top, one can view all of Paris. Visiting Sacre-Coeur was my favorite part of the trip. While the area surrounding the base of the hill is lively with restaurants, cafes and shops, the walk uphill reveals a mini-village hidden behind the church.
Inside Sacre-Coeur we listened to nuns singing prayers in French. The interior of the church is as magnificient, if not more so, than the exterior; etchings of religious figures are carved into the walls, and the stained-glass windows depict stories from the Bible.
Outside the church is a lively mess of entertainment, eating and consumption. A one-man optical illusions show was performed at half-hour intervals, and behind the church is a village filled with galleries and shops, cafes and pubs. The outdoor plaza teems with portraiture artists making a living off of tourists. We had a tomatoe-frommage crepe for dinner and a sugar-sprinkled chocolate crepe for desert at one of the local restaurants before heading to the Gare du Nord.

Tour Eiffel

Heading west along the Left Bank we visited the Tour Eiffel.  Although initially uninterested in seeing the Eiffel Tower, I reasoned that not visiting the monument is like not seeing the Taj Mahal when in North India: both require more than one visit.  We noticed many families strolling around the monument and local dogs running loose without leashes in the the large field upon which the tower stands.

Paris Mosque

Sunday morning we walked along the Seine on the Left Bank until we reached the Paris Mosque, a white building that takes up a whole city block.  The interior of the mosque is open-air and designed with blue and white tiles and carved ceilings.  A small outdoor courtyard and indoor restaurant, the Cafe de la Mosque, adjoin the building where visitors and devotees alike can order colorful Middle Eastern sweets and bitter tea.