Moulin Rouge

Our month in Europe has come to an end and we've settled back into our Vancouver life. We have ten people coming for dinner tonight. That's actually a pretty typical Sunday here, but after a month of eating in restaurants, being cooked for and picnicking in parks, it was a brain shift to get back into entertaining mode.  

I took some time out from cleaning and prepping this morning to flip through my trip sketchbook.  Happy memories. This sketch is from one of our last days in Paris.  We sat at a cafe across from this scene for hours sketching and watching life come and go. While the Moulin Rouge has been completely gentrified (I'd be comfy taking my mother to the show) the street is still pretty red-light. One aging hooker working the corner beside our table came and went several times while I sketched this. The sky gradually darkened and the lights came on. It's such an iconic site.  Tourists kept stopping in front of us to take each other's picture with the  windmill in the background. After all the miles we've put on walking the street of Paris we're both pretty content to just sit, drink,our beers and soak it all in. 

Père Lachaise

We went to the amazing food market at Barbes Rochechoart in the morning, bought all the fixin's for a 'Paris Picnic', then headed off by metro to Père Lachaise to eat, sketch and wander. 

Text reads:

The last time I was here, on a gray midweek morning some 20 years ago, the cemetery was empty other than four still-drunk Irish boys stumble-dancing at Jim Morrison's gravesite. They were stripped down to their undies, drinking beer (and offering to share it with us) while their ghetto blaster warbled out old Doors tunes. Today it's a different scene.  There's a fence around Jim's grave.  Throngs of tourists press up against it taking photos. There are groups of school kids being toured about by guides.  I overheard two versions of La Vie en Rose at Edith Piaf's grave and a dum, dum dadum version of the Funeral March here at the gravesite of Frederic Chopin.  I've sat through several tour guide explanations while doing this sketch, and  if my understanding is to be trusted, his body is buried here, but his heart, as per his request, is enshrined in his native Poland where crowds of people come each year honorary their respects to his genius. Now that's spreading the love. 

l'Opera de Lyon

Sketched this sitting on the grass above the opera house in Lyon. I had a pocket of time before meeting a group from the school for a tour of the Painted Walls of the Croix Rousse. Just as I was about to get  up to go meet everyone around the corner at the Place du Terreaux the skies opened up and started to pour rain. My friend Julie and I felt it was a much better idea to sit on the terrace of the Opera House (on the left here) and watch some live music than to trudge around the rainy city like little ducklings behind our tour guide. Turns out it was an excellent decision, especially since my homework assignment that week was to go see some live entertainment and write an article about it.  Got the article written, avoided the rain, and was rewarded for good decision making with a beautiful display of sunlight on fresh rain-washed rooftops. 

Right now Greg andI i are sitting in the Gare du Nord, waiting to take the train to Brussels where we'll be greeted by our favourite Belgians, Flo and Brieuc. Bye-bye Paris, hello next chapter. 

Sacre Cour From Our Bedroom Window

Our time in Paris is winding down. We took the train out to Versailles this afternoon. So did every either tourist currently in France. If you come here, don't go to Versailles on a Tuesday. It's closed Mondays, and the Louvre is closed the following day, so all that pent up tourist traffic lands at the gates of the palace mid-day on Tuesdays. Lines to visit the castle were several hours long, so we opted to pick up a picnic, rent bikes  and explore the grounds. We watched Sofia Coppola's 'Marie Antoinette' the night before as a warm up. Wild to see how lavish and vast it really is. No wonder the townsfolk got cranky with them.  We picnicked beside the grand canal, full of people paddling around in little boats and overfed fish lumbering up to the surface to draw down chunks of bread people toss them.  We did hit the palace for a rushed visit right before close when the crowds died down. Afterwards we found a little tapas restaurant by the train station and feasted on paella, then trained back to the city and walked the streets of the Latin quarter until we could walk no more. 

Now, back at the apartment, I figured it's one of my last chances to perch in the bedroom window and sketch Sacre Cour. I will miss saying goodnight to this beautiful view every night before bed.  It's so close it feels like I could reach out and touch it from here. Magic. 

Louvre, Orsay and the Van Gogh Effect.

Text says:

"Sitting at the Marly Cafe absorbing the scene here at the main courtyard of the Louvre. Architectural genius or "a scar on the face of Paris" (we watched the da Vinci Code last night)?  Well, I've always been a fan of contrasts, and the way the reflections of palace and sky are dancing across the panes of the pyramid as I sketch seem fitting in this historical and cosmopolitan plaza. We did a big tour of the Musée d'Orsay earlier In the day.  I found myself, for the second time in my life, standing in front of an original Van Gogh with tears running down my cheeks. Something about the way he paints makes me feel his hand on the brush and see the scene through his eyes. So many amazing works here at the Orsay, not the least of which is the building itself. Afterwards we walked the Tuileries and ended up here. Now, Greg's been hugely patient while I sketch my way across this amazing edifice, it's time to cross the Pont Neuf and go explore the left bank..."

Le Festival Soirs d'Été at Place de la République

Took the metro to Place de la République last night (thanks free Paris Metro app, so much easier to get around) to catch Le Festival Soirs d'Été.  What a scene. The Place is huge and gorgeous and recently reno'ed, and the people watching was fantastic!  There's a kiosk in the middle of the Place selling wine and beer, but most people bring their own.  Even in a crammed party crowd like that people are picnicking here. Love it. 

Saw this band, Boulevard des Airs, kind of Manu Chau-esque. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vKSi8jH6N8&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Afterwards we wandered the hood and found a great late night dinner spot. 

Just found out from my lovely Belgian buddy that their king has abdicated, and that his son will be crowned while we're there. How's that for a Forrest Gump moment?!  

Now it's off to the Musee d'Orsay for us, with maybe a little picnic in the Tuileries.  Did I mention that I love Paris?

Paris, mais oui!

We're in Paris!

But wait, I skipped a few chapters.  

After leaving Pommard I drove through Bourgogne to the airport to get Greg. It's way more fun on a honeymoon to actually have your spouse with you.  We got in the car, asked the gps to take us to Lion Sur Mer, hit the 'avoid toll roads' option to get the scenic route, and headed off. 3h30 it told us. That's livable. 

Cut to 3h30 later. We're in a traffic jam not even really out of Paris yet. Time to destination? About the same as when we left.  Crazy traffic. My thigh was trembling from having to ride the clutch for hours on end. Seven hours later we reached our destination. Jasmin was there to welcome us with an aperatif (love this country) at Villa Louis, a wild, art filled former dance hall/casino/museum that has stood on this beach for 150 years.  It was here when Napoleon Bonaparte became the first president of the French Republic.  It was here when the allied troops stormed the beaches we look at through our upper floor window. Crazy.  It's chaotic and magical, stuffed with collections and treasures.  In the morning we did a little history tour of the d-day beaches.  Very moving.  More on that later (sketches too). 

We left Normandy for Paris that afternoon, this time picking the fast route. The gps took us straight through the heart of Paris. In rush hour.  It was a bit white knuckled, involving high levels of teamwork.  The Arc de Triomphe was insane!  The car right in front of us got rammed by a truck that managed to squeeze between two non-lanes and disappear. So could have been us. Greg scanned for danger as I tried to stay steady on the wheel, and somehow we managed to get that car parked 6 floors under the Gare du Norde, down a ramp that could double as a spiral staircase, at exactly the right time. Thank you gps. 

So now here we are. The apartment we're staying in is lovely, airy, with a view of the rooftops of Paris that I will never forget. We're in the heart of Montmartre. Day one we headed up to the Place du Tertre and breakfasted while I did this sketch. 

Afterwards we visited Sacre Cour and wandered the streets of our hood for hours. We dined on rue Lepic (where both Van Gogh and Hemingway, two of my faves, once lived), then ended up back at Place du Tertre for a very entertaining nightcap. 

Here's a quick sketch of the rooftops from the apartment. Did I mention that I love this place? 

My Lyonaisse Nest and le Petit prince

Here I sit, sick in bed. 'J'ai attrapé un virus' is the French version. It's an opportunity to stay in bed, and to use my favourite new French expression, 'Rien de tel que...', 'what better to do than...'. I love my little nest here. Note the coffee mug that matches the bedding. 

I picked up this postcard of one of my fave statues here. It must have been shot a while ago, because now the statue is obscured by trees, which makes it even more magical. 

Text under the postcard reads:

When I arrived at the apartment here in Lyon there was a copy of Le Petit Prince waiting for me  on the desk in my room. Lyon is pretty proud of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, who was born and raised Lyonais. And so they should be. I've been reading this book every night here, and when I'm too tired to read, I pull it up on YouTube and some man with a great French speaking voice reads it to me. Part children's book, part philosophy, it's magical. I'll have to pick up a copy of my own. I'm wearing this one out!  When the guide took us to see this statue hidden in the trees at the edge of Place Bellecour (spoiler alert) and told us the story of the demise of Saint-Exupery I had a bit of a teary moments the story of his crash changes a bit depending on who's telling it, but it's always sad. 

Two Favourite Fountains

This city is full of amazing statues and fountains. Yogi, who barks at the former and tries to jump in the latter, would be endlessly stimulated here.  It is pretty spectacular. The other thing they have in abundance is bridges. There are 28 of them connecting la Saunemand le Rhône to the Presqu'isle. During the war the nazis blew out all but two of them.  Now some of the bases are old and beautiful, but the decks are all post WWII.  We had a good look at them on our little river cruise boat on Sunday which, if you find yourself here, is worth taking. 

The text under the postcard reads:
Fontaine Bartholdi
From the same man who brought you the Statue of Liberty, this beauty sits in the "Place des Terreaux". If you could see the whole fountain you'd see a woman (representing France) and four raging horses, each one representing one of the four main rivers of France. It is apparently magnificent in the winter, all iced up. But, if you think I'm going to take 'their' word for it, you don't know me very well ;-). Hello excuse to come back.

The part facing the angels reads:
These little "angelos" adorn the statue at Marechal Lyautey (pronounced somewhere between 'loiter' and 'haughty', which makes a lot of sense after you spend an afternoon here). They each represent something; navigation, commerce, geography. the square, very close to where I'm staying, is pretty live.y. There's a flower shop in one of those beautiful old iron kiosks, and a cafe, and this week there's a boule tourney. It's bocci, but French.

Mouthwatering Wares of Halles Paul Bocuse

It's Sunday. I'm having a bit of a 'lie-in', but theres so much to do, and my two week stay in Lyon that seemed so ample when I arrived is shrinking fast. I'm happy to be finished with school for a couple of days. We only go for a couple of hours a day, but it's enough to get the brain swimming. Bon or bien, mieux or meilliere, pres or proche, rapide or vite, these are the current challenges. I understand the mechanics behind it, but getting it right while you're talking is like effectively adjusting your tire pressure while you're riding along on your bike.

The biggest part of the learning definitely comes between classes, talking with Dominique. And talk, we do!  About everything; kids, men, our childhoods, religion and spirituality, philosophy, France and her history, social issues in both countries, and the merits and shortfalls of Hugo Montenegro's translations of Bob Dylan songs.  Yesterday we went to the Marche Paul Bocuse (he's a very big deal here). I took about a million pictures of the food in the market stalls and we lunched on tiny quenelles floating in marinara and chocolate cakes baked in large dixie cups smothered in a raspberry rhubarb sauce. Afterwards we walked to the art supply store and... Dominique bought herself a paint kit and watercolor paper!  She's been working her way through my book. I felt like a proud parent. As did she when I told her the market was 'bien', but the quenelles were 'bon'.  It's all coming together.

Here are a few of the shots from the market yesterday. Make you hungry?

Afterwards we came home for some lunch, then drove up to Fourviere in the rain. Apparently you can see the alps from there, but not yesterday.  We could just barely see the rooftops of Lyon. It was beautiful though. The view is spectacular, as is the basilique. Standing inside, it was the first time in my life I've looked at something and thought it held the same kind if exquisite complex beauty as the mechanics of the human body.  Or maybe a dinosaur skeleton.  It looked like it could run or fly. Every centimeter is either delicately carved or part of a complicated mosaic. It is really unbelievable. And just enough sunlight came out as we left to make the golden virgin standing on her tower shine. Beautiful.

Another day of adventure awaits. Time to get to it.

Deux Lits Sur Rue Duguesclin

Woke up early this morning and decided to sketch the view from my bed (again). I've been finding it hard to sleep in the mornings because the light fills the room way before its time to get up. When Dominique saw how industrious I'd been in the morning, she realized I didn't know there were shutters outside the windows. She showed me how they work, and tonight I'll sleep like I'm in a tomb. Thank God. One more night on 4-5 hours and I won't be speaking ANY language. 

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Funny that in a city of half a million people both places I'm staying here in Lyon are on the same street. The first, chez Berenger, had this knock-out view! The second, chez Dominique, is absolutely magical. My bedroom looks onto a very typical Lyonnaise building with its tile roof, wood valances and little iron balconies. 

The two hills are called "la Colline qui Prie" and "la Colline qui Travaille"; the hill that prays and the hill that works. Fourviere, of course, has the basilica, and Croix Rousse is where all the silk workers lived and worked. 

I went on a guided walking tour of the presqu'isle with the school yesterday. The history of this place is so interesting, with hills that work and pray, male and female rivers that surge together, church and commerce that have a 'mine is bigger than yours' fight on a hilltop (The Tour Metalique was built to trump the Basilique, by a whopping 2 feet. Take that, church folk!)

Une Guide Parfait

I'm starting to get my bearings here. Berenger had to go out to help a friend move this morning, so I had the apartment to myself. As much as I could have sat and stared at that amazing view for a month without getting bored, I decided to head out and find La Parc de le Tête d'Or. How ideal, arriving here on a Sunday. There were joggers and cyclists, lovers, tourists, and little families scattered all over the grass with picnic baskets. The way the park is laid out, you catch little glimpses through the trees of all the different attractions. There was an old-style carousel with music and painted ponies, botanical gardens, an idyllic lake with row boats. I came around one corner and looked up to see these giraffes almost camouflaged against a sun dappled wood building.  Surprises everywhere. 

I know I'll be back here, to sketch and to rent one of the little boats and have a paddle around the lake, but it was time to head back, get my stuff and head to Mme Guider's apartment where I'll stay for the next two weeks. 

I couldn't have landed with a better host.  Mme Guider, Dominique, is lovely, as is her home. She's an excellent guide (her last name even means guide!).  We had so much to talk about right away.   Her home is full of books and art, and little poems beautifully written on tiny cards tucked in all over the place. She took me on a walking tour of the city, explaining the geography, history and cultural significance of everything, loaded me up with good French books (like Le Petit Prince) and cooked me an incredible meal.  She speaks very clearly and is so interesting that I'm finding I'm able to understand her without too much difficulty.  By the time I tucked into my adorable little antique bed covered in toile de jouy fabric I was exhausted, stuffed, and 'tres content'. 

'Bound' for France!

 Oh how I love my new sketchbook!  I made it (with the help of this youtube video) using an old French hardcover book I bought for 25 cents at the Centre Culturel Francaise here in Vancouver.  I recovered it with this gilt brocade paper I bought at Opus on Vancouver Island, and filled it with my favourite watercolour paper, some solid coloured paper for line drawings, and a fun collection of patterned papers that I have no idea yet what I'll do with.  That, I suppose, is part of the adventure. 

I've been planning this book, and this trip, for months now.  Some little bug climbed into my ear about a year ago and said "Hey, Canadian girl, it's time you really learned how to speak French".   I signed up for a French class at the Cultural Centre here in Vancouver, found a language buddy to practice with (bonjour Florence!) and started listening to 'Learn French by Podcast' everyday on my endless jaunts to and from our stores.   

 Voila, un an plus tard, here I am prepping and packing for my big French adventure!  It's the pay-off for a year of hard work.  I leave this Friday (only two more sleeps!) and arrive in Lyon the following day.  I'll spend two weeks there doing a language immersion course that I found at Cactus Language Training.  When that's done, I'll meet my husband Greg in Paris for another couple weeks of adventure.  It's been so fun to plan.  All of our accommodations are either through airbnb or homeexchange.com.  Not a single night in a hotel in over a month of travel!

I'm pretty much packed, thanks in part to the fab blog HiP Paris, and am so excited.   I'll try my best to sketch and post as I go.

A bien tot!