ALL CHURCHES, ALL THE TIME
Sunday 10/1/06
France is a Catholic country so when in Rome….. We are attending a Gregorian Mass this morning at Notre Dame. While wandering the streets in our neighborhood we spotted a Starbucks on a little side street just off St. Germain and we think we may have better luck getting our day started there rather than the French Patisserie. Strangely, the people in Starbucks also speak French but we are familiar enough with the sizes and shapes that we actually get what we want and are able to pay without just holding out handfuls of money.
It’s an easy walk east on St. Germain and then across Rue St. Jacques to the cathedral. It is cool and overcast this morning so it feels good to sip our warm coffee standing outside Notre Dame. The church is more than half full when we go in, and half full in Notre Dame is a lot of people. There is a certain serenity to Gregorian chants and we are looking forward to an uplifting yet soothing experience this morning. Not so. The music is harsh and the chants are threatening. While we understand not a word of the priest’s sermon, that too sounds like he is mad at all of us and we better shape up right here and now or we will all be going straight to hell and he’ll take us there himself if he has to. Wow. We are relieved when the service ends and maybe this will make the whole experience more memorable for us.
We have heard that Sundays are good days to visit Montmartre where artists display their wares on the hillsides in front of Sacre Coeur Basilica. On Ile de Cite we find the Metro station and pick up a pack of ten tickets to get us through the day and hop the pink and blue lines to the Anvers station. We climb back into daylight and spot a Tourist Office at street level. On our to-do list for the day is purchasing museum passes to use during the week so we get that taken care of here. It is another two block walk past some exceedingly seedy tourist traps to the funicular which we take to the top of Montmartre in exchange for one of our Metro tickets.
The day remains threatening and the view of Paris from the city’s highest point is a little hazy. We can pick out some of the most dominant sights but we’re not getting the photo ops that we had hoped. The Basilica, built in the late 1800’s, is dominated by onion domes and a coat of gypsum that makes it a very bright white. There are hoards of folks visiting today and we take a quick peek inside, pay our respects to the Sacred Heart and Joan of Arc mosaics and make a quick about face into the fresh air.
Maybe it’s because it’s October or the skies look like trouble, but the promised mass of artists are no-shows today. There are a few stragglers around and some picnickers but the outside art show we had envisioned is not here. We decide to walk back down past the Church of St. Pierre de Montmartre (circa 1147) and into the neighborhoods. This area is another version of the “Real” Paris where Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Picasso, Van Gogh, and others all lived, drank and painted, and each block brags some connection to France’s art heritage.
We eventually work our way down to Boulevard de Clichy, one of the famous entertainment areas of the Right Bank. Centerpiece to that claim is, of course, the Moulin Rouge with its trademark windmill and leg kicking ladies. John and Dave are interested in catching a show, but relent when the Marys promise a private show later. This area is also the home of Pigalle, or “Pig Alley” as the liberating American soldiers named the famous red light district.
It is already mid-afternoon so we find a little café and grab an outside table under an awning – just in the nick of time. We enjoy lunch, a little red wine and watch it rain on the passers-by. As we always say we are so fantastically lucky (or some other version of SFL) and this trip is no exception. We take a little walk after lunch, arrive back at our Metro station, and make a connection to our own little Odeon station a block from our hotel. It is definitely nap time.
Tonight is dinner at le Procope, an historic bistro only a block from our hotel, but first there is an important discovery to be made. Next to the restaurant we discover the Pub St. Germain. This is a more modern Euro style bar with hot young servers and real American style cocktails. Yes, they do play a constant stream of Euro-techno-trash music, but in spite of that we have indeed discovered the spot where one might find a spot to lay back and enjoy a nice little martini before venturing off to dinner. We shall return!
Founded in 1686, le Procope has entertained Voltaire, Robespierre, Benjamin Franklin and now the Kolesars and Zesbaughs. Good for them. Dinner is unremarkable but the wine continues to flow and once again we have tapered to the end of another full and fantastic day.
When we get back to the hotel and get buzzed in we now shout out our room numbers in our version of French while the night clerk does the same in English. Neither of us has to do this since he now knows which rooms we are in, but the ritual is fun and we’re all proud to be communicating. The Marys think John and Dave have forgotten about the promised show and they are right. Obviously an age thing.
Sunday 10/1/06
France is a Catholic country so when in Rome….. We are attending a Gregorian Mass this morning at Notre Dame. While wandering the streets in our neighborhood we spotted a Starbucks on a little side street just off St. Germain and we think we may have better luck getting our day started there rather than the French Patisserie. Strangely, the people in Starbucks also speak French but we are familiar enough with the sizes and shapes that we actually get what we want and are able to pay without just holding out handfuls of money.
It’s an easy walk east on St. Germain and then across Rue St. Jacques to the cathedral. It is cool and overcast this morning so it feels good to sip our warm coffee standing outside Notre Dame. The church is more than half full when we go in, and half full in Notre Dame is a lot of people. There is a certain serenity to Gregorian chants and we are looking forward to an uplifting yet soothing experience this morning. Not so. The music is harsh and the chants are threatening. While we understand not a word of the priest’s sermon, that too sounds like he is mad at all of us and we better shape up right here and now or we will all be going straight to hell and he’ll take us there himself if he has to. Wow. We are relieved when the service ends and maybe this will make the whole experience more memorable for us.
We have heard that Sundays are good days to visit Montmartre where artists display their wares on the hillsides in front of Sacre Coeur Basilica. On Ile de Cite we find the Metro station and pick up a pack of ten tickets to get us through the day and hop the pink and blue lines to the Anvers station. We climb back into daylight and spot a Tourist Office at street level. On our to-do list for the day is purchasing museum passes to use during the week so we get that taken care of here. It is another two block walk past some exceedingly seedy tourist traps to the funicular which we take to the top of Montmartre in exchange for one of our Metro tickets.
The day remains threatening and the view of Paris from the city’s highest point is a little hazy. We can pick out some of the most dominant sights but we’re not getting the photo ops that we had hoped. The Basilica, built in the late 1800’s, is dominated by onion domes and a coat of gypsum that makes it a very bright white. There are hoards of folks visiting today and we take a quick peek inside, pay our respects to the Sacred Heart and Joan of Arc mosaics and make a quick about face into the fresh air.
Maybe it’s because it’s October or the skies look like trouble, but the promised mass of artists are no-shows today. There are a few stragglers around and some picnickers but the outside art show we had envisioned is not here. We decide to walk back down past the Church of St. Pierre de Montmartre (circa 1147) and into the neighborhoods. This area is another version of the “Real” Paris where Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Picasso, Van Gogh, and others all lived, drank and painted, and each block brags some connection to France’s art heritage.
We eventually work our way down to Boulevard de Clichy, one of the famous entertainment areas of the Right Bank. Centerpiece to that claim is, of course, the Moulin Rouge with its trademark windmill and leg kicking ladies. John and Dave are interested in catching a show, but relent when the Marys promise a private show later. This area is also the home of Pigalle, or “Pig Alley” as the liberating American soldiers named the famous red light district.
It is already mid-afternoon so we find a little café and grab an outside table under an awning – just in the nick of time. We enjoy lunch, a little red wine and watch it rain on the passers-by. As we always say we are so fantastically lucky (or some other version of SFL) and this trip is no exception. We take a little walk after lunch, arrive back at our Metro station, and make a connection to our own little Odeon station a block from our hotel. It is definitely nap time.
Tonight is dinner at le Procope, an historic bistro only a block from our hotel, but first there is an important discovery to be made. Next to the restaurant we discover the Pub St. Germain. This is a more modern Euro style bar with hot young servers and real American style cocktails. Yes, they do play a constant stream of Euro-techno-trash music, but in spite of that we have indeed discovered the spot where one might find a spot to lay back and enjoy a nice little martini before venturing off to dinner. We shall return!
Founded in 1686, le Procope has entertained Voltaire, Robespierre, Benjamin Franklin and now the Kolesars and Zesbaughs. Good for them. Dinner is unremarkable but the wine continues to flow and once again we have tapered to the end of another full and fantastic day.
When we get back to the hotel and get buzzed in we now shout out our room numbers in our version of French while the night clerk does the same in English. Neither of us has to do this since he now knows which rooms we are in, but the ritual is fun and we’re all proud to be communicating. The Marys think John and Dave have forgotten about the promised show and they are right. Obviously an age thing.
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