Front view of the same house - Hôtel Guidais
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
19-9-2010
Interior of the Hôtel Haguenot from the gardens. It seems to me to be rather stiff and formal for everyday living. Pictures were not allowed of the interior of either home, but we were not told that until after we entered the house, and by that time I had already taken this photo, which is taken from the patio of the home looking inward.
19-9-2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010 Day 81
Avast, and shiver me timbers – it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day! Brwaack! Polly want a cracker? … Oh, wait. That’s for Talk Like a PARROT Day.
We wanted to continue Les Journées du Patrimoine as these places are available only once a year and we will not be here next year to see them. First we stood in line for almost an hour to be able to climb 80 steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, from which we had a lovely view. We could look in one direction and see the Peyrou with its water tower at the end, and in another direction and have a view of the Mediterranean Sea. A French friend named Elisabeth suggested that we go to see two “folies” this afternoon as part of Les Journées du Patrimoine. A “folie” is "small house built in a leisure garden. . . and intended for short stays" and poetically, a "little house under the trees." Yes, well, these “little houses under the trees” are rather grand residences, at least in the city sense. They are not sprawling country chateaux; however they are large enough – much larger than most houses around, I think, with lovely gardens. The two we visited were called Hôtel Haguenot and Hôtel Guidais. An explanation here about the term Hôtel as it is used in France (or at least as nearly as I can tell!): The term seem to get tossed around a lot. Besides being the obvious place to spend a night or two, it appears also used to describe administrative offices (Hôtel du Ville is always “City Hall”) and additionally some historic estates or mansions. Both Hôtel Haguenot and the Hôtel Guidais are what used to be country homes, but the city grew up around them. They are large walled private houses in beautiful settings of peaceful gardens. Hôtel Haguenot was rather museum-like in that part of the interior which we saw – it is hard to believe that the owners relax and put their feet up in the splendidly-decorated rooms. Hôtel Guidais was a bit more relaxed and informal, although not casual by any means. We only toured limited areas of both houses, then most of the gardens. I had museum legs by this time, so we headed home.
Avast, and shiver me timbers – it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day! Brwaack! Polly want a cracker? … Oh, wait. That’s for Talk Like a PARROT Day.
We wanted to continue Les Journées du Patrimoine as these places are available only once a year and we will not be here next year to see them. First we stood in line for almost an hour to be able to climb 80 steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, from which we had a lovely view. We could look in one direction and see the Peyrou with its water tower at the end, and in another direction and have a view of the Mediterranean Sea. A French friend named Elisabeth suggested that we go to see two “folies” this afternoon as part of Les Journées du Patrimoine. A “folie” is "small house built in a leisure garden. . . and intended for short stays" and poetically, a "little house under the trees." Yes, well, these “little houses under the trees” are rather grand residences, at least in the city sense. They are not sprawling country chateaux; however they are large enough – much larger than most houses around, I think, with lovely gardens. The two we visited were called Hôtel Haguenot and Hôtel Guidais. An explanation here about the term Hôtel as it is used in France (or at least as nearly as I can tell!): The term seem to get tossed around a lot. Besides being the obvious place to spend a night or two, it appears also used to describe administrative offices (Hôtel du Ville is always “City Hall”) and additionally some historic estates or mansions. Both Hôtel Haguenot and the Hôtel Guidais are what used to be country homes, but the city grew up around them. They are large walled private houses in beautiful settings of peaceful gardens. Hôtel Haguenot was rather museum-like in that part of the interior which we saw – it is hard to believe that the owners relax and put their feet up in the splendidly-decorated rooms. Hôtel Guidais was a bit more relaxed and informal, although not casual by any means. We only toured limited areas of both houses, then most of the gardens. I had museum legs by this time, so we headed home.
18-9-2010
This lovely French lady was walking her dog and was kind enough to stop and discuss our bus situation with us.
18-9-2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010 Day 80
Every year on a weekend in September, the French celebrate Les Journées du Patrimoine, the one time each year when many historic sites, including embassies, government buildings, and churches, are open for public visits and tours. Additionally, some private buildings are open. Patricia suggested that we visit a couple of specific sites, so she came over to our apartment, admired it appropriately, and we left to catch a bus almost in front of the apartment. We arrived at Mas d’Alco, which is a series of modern buildings in some lovely gardens.
Geopolitical history time: France is divided into 26 Régions, which are the rough equivalent of states in the U.S. Each Région is divided into a number of Départements – there are 100 in all of France. We live in the Région called Languedoc-Roussillon. Our Département is called Hérault and it is one of five which make up the Languedoc-Roussillon Région. We visited the Hôtel du Département, which houses the administrative offices of the Counseil General (akin to a governor) of the Département of Hérault. The grounds were quite nice, and there was a modest 18th century two-story house on the grounds which appears that it may be used as a cultural centre or an event/reception hall. Unfortunately it was not open for the tour. We did get to see where the Département governing body holds session.
From there we walked over to Chateau O, (the O is for Olives, I think); however we were too early. Chateau O is a former chateau comprising a modest house and extensive grounds. In the middle of the 18th century its owner build marvelous fountains and water gardens which were supplied by an aqueduct. After the death of the owner, the chateau lost its water rights and litigation ensued for many years. The chateau was finally given access to some water, but not nearly what it had in the past. Today, the waters have dried giving an O-soaked irony to the name of the chateau (pun on “eau” or water). It is now a concert and arts venue with an amphitheatre on the grounds. We walked through the grounds and saw lots of olive trees, had a drink of water, then left to catch the tram back to the center of town.
After resting briefly and having lunch, we found the regional bus depot and hopped aboard bus #117 for an adventure into the country, truly. We were headed almost to the end of the line, and Patricia asked the bus driver to let us know which stop. He misled us – not deliberately, I think. We talked to a woman in the village who said that he is a new bus driver; further, the bus used to be allowed to go into the village center but the new mayor decided he wanted to keep the buses out of the village center, so has had them redirected along a different route. At any rate, we got off the bus, walked along the road a bit, and determined that we had gotten off too early. A young woman walking along the road indicated that it was about a two-kilometre walk, so we debated what to do. Patricia has something of a disability and sometimes walks with a cane for support, and she decided that she didn’t want to go on. Roger said he would, and set off. I stayed with Patricia. It was during this time that we spoke to an older woman who told us the tale about the buses. At this point, the next bus was due in 15 minutes or so, and we decided to catch it onward. When it arrived, Patricia managed to talk the driver into letting us on for free since the other bus driver misinformed us about the stop. We arrived at our destination, a village called Murviel-Lès-Monpellier. As we hiked up the hill to the village, Roger waved at us – he had just arrived less than 15 minute prior – the “2 kilometres” that the woman described having been more like four! We were here to view the site of some old Roman ruins which are being excavated. A good deal of excavation was done in the 1980s and 1990s, but work continues today. It was quite interesting – a temple, some drainage canals which run under the temple complex, and a couple of tile floors, one of which is in quite good condition. We returned to the center of the village and, since we had about half an hour to catch our bus, we checked out an old Roman fountain and saw a 10th century church. We caught the last bus back into Montpellier and were glad to be back home. Roger particularly put in several miles of walking today!
Every year on a weekend in September, the French celebrate Les Journées du Patrimoine, the one time each year when many historic sites, including embassies, government buildings, and churches, are open for public visits and tours. Additionally, some private buildings are open. Patricia suggested that we visit a couple of specific sites, so she came over to our apartment, admired it appropriately, and we left to catch a bus almost in front of the apartment. We arrived at Mas d’Alco, which is a series of modern buildings in some lovely gardens.
Geopolitical history time: France is divided into 26 Régions, which are the rough equivalent of states in the U.S. Each Région is divided into a number of Départements – there are 100 in all of France. We live in the Région called Languedoc-Roussillon. Our Département is called Hérault and it is one of five which make up the Languedoc-Roussillon Région. We visited the Hôtel du Département, which houses the administrative offices of the Counseil General (akin to a governor) of the Département of Hérault. The grounds were quite nice, and there was a modest 18th century two-story house on the grounds which appears that it may be used as a cultural centre or an event/reception hall. Unfortunately it was not open for the tour. We did get to see where the Département governing body holds session.
From there we walked over to Chateau O, (the O is for Olives, I think); however we were too early. Chateau O is a former chateau comprising a modest house and extensive grounds. In the middle of the 18th century its owner build marvelous fountains and water gardens which were supplied by an aqueduct. After the death of the owner, the chateau lost its water rights and litigation ensued for many years. The chateau was finally given access to some water, but not nearly what it had in the past. Today, the waters have dried giving an O-soaked irony to the name of the chateau (pun on “eau” or water). It is now a concert and arts venue with an amphitheatre on the grounds. We walked through the grounds and saw lots of olive trees, had a drink of water, then left to catch the tram back to the center of town.
After resting briefly and having lunch, we found the regional bus depot and hopped aboard bus #117 for an adventure into the country, truly. We were headed almost to the end of the line, and Patricia asked the bus driver to let us know which stop. He misled us – not deliberately, I think. We talked to a woman in the village who said that he is a new bus driver; further, the bus used to be allowed to go into the village center but the new mayor decided he wanted to keep the buses out of the village center, so has had them redirected along a different route. At any rate, we got off the bus, walked along the road a bit, and determined that we had gotten off too early. A young woman walking along the road indicated that it was about a two-kilometre walk, so we debated what to do. Patricia has something of a disability and sometimes walks with a cane for support, and she decided that she didn’t want to go on. Roger said he would, and set off. I stayed with Patricia. It was during this time that we spoke to an older woman who told us the tale about the buses. At this point, the next bus was due in 15 minutes or so, and we decided to catch it onward. When it arrived, Patricia managed to talk the driver into letting us on for free since the other bus driver misinformed us about the stop. We arrived at our destination, a village called Murviel-Lès-Monpellier. As we hiked up the hill to the village, Roger waved at us – he had just arrived less than 15 minute prior – the “2 kilometres” that the woman described having been more like four! We were here to view the site of some old Roman ruins which are being excavated. A good deal of excavation was done in the 1980s and 1990s, but work continues today. It was quite interesting – a temple, some drainage canals which run under the temple complex, and a couple of tile floors, one of which is in quite good condition. We returned to the center of the village and, since we had about half an hour to catch our bus, we checked out an old Roman fountain and saw a 10th century church. We caught the last bus back into Montpellier and were glad to be back home. Roger particularly put in several miles of walking today!
17-9-2010
Friday, September 17, 2010 Day 79
This morning I made some cream puffs, which took two trips to a nearby grocery store. Then I went to the planning meeting for the AWG Garden Club with Peggy. The hostess, Sue, is married to a French architect, and she has a lovely house and gardens located atop a low hill. There were eleven of us, including Sue’s cousin, Jenny, who is visiting from Australia. I already knew about half the group, and made new friends at this gathering. Unfortunately my cream puffs were less than successful, in part because I filled them too early. Sigh. On the way back, we stopped at a favorite bakery of Peggy’s and bought some bread. We didn’t get home from the garden club until around 4:00. Peggy said she was going to walk Egan along the River Lez, so I called Roger and asked him if he wanted to go. He came to meet us and we drove for about 20 minutes to a rural area with fields along the Lez. It was an easy walk, and we were able to unleash Egan and let her romp. Her favorite sport is chasing birds, although I don’t think she would know what to do with one if she caught it. That is not really a worry – the birds are in no danger. The area we walked in is part of the agricultural school and there were a number of experimental plots, one of which contained peanuts. Another field had had sunflowers in it, but they had been harvested, leaving behind marvelous bird food. We found several sunflower heads, some of which still contained lots of seed, so we collected them for Peggy’s yard where she feeds birds.
This morning I made some cream puffs, which took two trips to a nearby grocery store. Then I went to the planning meeting for the AWG Garden Club with Peggy. The hostess, Sue, is married to a French architect, and she has a lovely house and gardens located atop a low hill. There were eleven of us, including Sue’s cousin, Jenny, who is visiting from Australia. I already knew about half the group, and made new friends at this gathering. Unfortunately my cream puffs were less than successful, in part because I filled them too early. Sigh. On the way back, we stopped at a favorite bakery of Peggy’s and bought some bread. We didn’t get home from the garden club until around 4:00. Peggy said she was going to walk Egan along the River Lez, so I called Roger and asked him if he wanted to go. He came to meet us and we drove for about 20 minutes to a rural area with fields along the Lez. It was an easy walk, and we were able to unleash Egan and let her romp. Her favorite sport is chasing birds, although I don’t think she would know what to do with one if she caught it. That is not really a worry – the birds are in no danger. The area we walked in is part of the agricultural school and there were a number of experimental plots, one of which contained peanuts. Another field had had sunflowers in it, but they had been harvested, leaving behind marvelous bird food. We found several sunflower heads, some of which still contained lots of seed, so we collected them for Peggy’s yard where she feeds birds.
16-9-2010
View of the Mediterranean Sea from the Mariners Cemetery - what a view to have for eternity!
My first visit to Sète
Thursday, September 16, 2010 Day 78
What a day! The American Women’s Group (AWG) had a trip planned to Sète, a town less than an hour from here, for a visit to a museum. I arranged to go with Peggy, who lives within easy walking distance of our apartment, so I walked over. I met her dog, Egan, who is a frolicky, frisky dog, an Irish setter. Peggy said that when they went to pick out the dog, there were two left in the litter, one of which was darker than the other. The owner indicated that he thought the darker one was smarter. Peggy’s kids said “Oh, Mom, get the dumb blonde!”
Sète is a delightful island town on the Mediterranean Sea with a huge amount of history, indeed, more history than town! It is a town apart, with a strong cultural identity, and with its traditions, its cuisine, its own jargon. It is less than 10 square miles in size, and it is built upon and around Mont St Clair. On the side opposite the Mediterranean Sea is the Bassin de Thau, an enclosed salt water lake used primarily for oyster and mussel fields. Not surprisingly, it is known for its seafood, among other things, most particularly the Sète Tial, which is a tart made of calamari, octopus or cuttlefish finely chopped and mixed with a spicy tomato sauce. The dough is usually bread dough. It may include sardines , eggs and spinach etc. Sète has been the home of many French artists, including Paul Valery, Geroges Brassens (whose namesake park we lived near in Paris), Manitas de Plata, Jean Vilar, the Di Rosa brothers, to name a few. The town was the departure point for the ship which became known as the Exodus 1947, and also the Ship that Launched a Nation (of Israel). It has a marine cemetery which overlooks the sea and the harbor.
We were in Sète to visit an art exhibit of works by an artist named Raoul Dufy, who painted in the early 20th century. His works were initially impressionistic, in the style of Monet and Cezanne, but as his art evolved, so did his style. Here are some examples of his work. The exhibit was of his Mediterranean paintings and was truly captivating. There were seven of us who went as a group to the museum, and we were joined by an eighth lady for lunch on the patio of the museum restaurant. An amusing incident arose when we ordered wine. The AWG puts out a newsletter called the Flamingo Forum. When we decided to order a bottle of rosé to share among us, the waiter brought out a bottle of Pink Flamingo wine in one of those clear vinyl ice bags, also with the Pink Flamingo logo. Several of the ladies exclaimed about the appropriateness of the wine. Another amusing incident arose toward the end of the meal. We killed the bottle of wine, but left is sitting in its bag, where the ice was turning to water. At one point, the bottle shifted and tipped the bag over, spilling its cold water on me! As a result, I got to take the bag, bottle and cork home! I plan to give the bag and cork to the group at some point – I haven’t worked out when or where yet.
After we left the museum, five of us walked across the street and entered the marine cemetery and enjoyed the view of the Mediterranean and the harbor which the sailors buried there can enjoy for eternity. Then we went down to the sea to a beach which has been restored after much erosion and encroachment by the sea. We were lucky enough to arrive during a kite surfing race. There must have been more than 50 kite surfers participating in a race, with the announcer on a loudspeaker cheering on the second-place guy, suggesting that he should beat the first-place guy because the latter was from the north and we wouldn’t want him to win! So much for non-partisanship!
We walked up the beach a bit to some housing which one of the women wanted to see. In the meantime, another woman and I decided that we needed to use the toilet, so we approached a public toilet booth. The other woman entered and I waited outside. As I waited, I read the instructions, which said, among other things, that the toilet is cleaned and sanitized between uses. “Yeah, right!” I thought. The other woman exited and I entered. The floor sloped down slightly and was wet. I went over to the stool, pulled down my pants and started to sit. However, as I did, there was a spray of water and THE TOILET BEGAN TO MOVE INTO THE WALL!!!! Okay, I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t experienced it. I hopped up quickly and stood back, then watched the entire toilet stool disappear into the wall. It was sprayed with water, then it moved back out, but only partially, then moved in again. Fortunately this time I wasn’t sitting on it! It moved back and forth several times, then came back out and seemed to be at a standstill. In the meantime, a thin sheet of water washed across the floor as well. WOW! I guess it IS cleaned and sanitized between uses! I finally dared to sit down and do my business, then got up and scrambled out of there. In the meantime the other woman is calling out to me and wondering what is happening. I finally exited and we marveled and laughed over the moving toilet. We tried to convince the other ladies of the group about what happened, but I’m not sure they ever believed us!
Peggy and I parted company from the other three ladies and headed back home. We drove a different route this time – the scenic one, and it was really beautiful. As we drove through one small town, Peggy said there was a candy store there that she had always wanted to stop at, and was I game? Candy? Am I game?! I am never not game for candy, especially if it promises to be good stuff. So we stopped and went in. They had lots of caramels and a lot of cookies they call biscuits. I bought a bundle of the latter (some of the former, too). A clerk told us that if we bought 900 grams or more of the biscuits, we would get a free biscuit tin. I managed to buy about 600 or 700 grams, and Peggy combined hers with mine and we got the “free” tin. They came in all sorts of flavors and were pretty good. I also bought some chocolate olives – small chocolates the size of olives, coated in green candy coating, some with a nut inside. Quite delicious! In all I spent 60€, or about $78 there!
The other day while walking on the street we saw a poster about the Berlin Festival Orchestra. We decided to go, and invited a woman, Patricia, to join us. We met her at the AWG party on Saturday. She invited us to her apartment for wine and cheese at 6:30, and I didn’t get home from Sète until 5:40, so I had to scramble to get ready. We made it to her apartment (also in the city center) and had a glass of wine and some lovely cheese with crackers. Then we set out for dinner at a restaurant near the concert site, which was to be the Notre Dame des Tables, the same church at which we saw Les Drôlle de Dames a couple of weeks ago. We passed the church on our way to eat, and dropped in to purchase our tickets. We selected a restaurant and had a really good meal, although we had to rush at the end. Waiters in French restaurants do not know the meaning of rush. Patricia speaks excellent French, and she really had to press him to get him to bring the check at the same time as the dessert. We tossed some money on the table and scooted up the street to the church. We entered just as the conductor was being applauded, took our seats and enjoyed a wonderful concert of Vivaldi and Pergolesi. I was not familiar with the latter, but he was an 18th century Italian composer who had the misfortune to die of tuberculosis at the age of 26. Before he died, however, he wrote a sacred work called Stabat Mater, or Grieving Mother (the mother here being Mary, mother of Jesus), for soprano, alto and orchestra, and that was performed along with Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Excellent concert! We finally made it home before 11:00, and I fell into bed, exhausted. Super day!
What a day! The American Women’s Group (AWG) had a trip planned to Sète, a town less than an hour from here, for a visit to a museum. I arranged to go with Peggy, who lives within easy walking distance of our apartment, so I walked over. I met her dog, Egan, who is a frolicky, frisky dog, an Irish setter. Peggy said that when they went to pick out the dog, there were two left in the litter, one of which was darker than the other. The owner indicated that he thought the darker one was smarter. Peggy’s kids said “Oh, Mom, get the dumb blonde!”
Sète is a delightful island town on the Mediterranean Sea with a huge amount of history, indeed, more history than town! It is a town apart, with a strong cultural identity, and with its traditions, its cuisine, its own jargon. It is less than 10 square miles in size, and it is built upon and around Mont St Clair. On the side opposite the Mediterranean Sea is the Bassin de Thau, an enclosed salt water lake used primarily for oyster and mussel fields. Not surprisingly, it is known for its seafood, among other things, most particularly the Sète Tial, which is a tart made of calamari, octopus or cuttlefish finely chopped and mixed with a spicy tomato sauce. The dough is usually bread dough. It may include sardines , eggs and spinach etc. Sète has been the home of many French artists, including Paul Valery, Geroges Brassens (whose namesake park we lived near in Paris), Manitas de Plata, Jean Vilar, the Di Rosa brothers, to name a few. The town was the departure point for the ship which became known as the Exodus 1947, and also the Ship that Launched a Nation (of Israel). It has a marine cemetery which overlooks the sea and the harbor.
We were in Sète to visit an art exhibit of works by an artist named Raoul Dufy, who painted in the early 20th century. His works were initially impressionistic, in the style of Monet and Cezanne, but as his art evolved, so did his style. Here are some examples of his work. The exhibit was of his Mediterranean paintings and was truly captivating. There were seven of us who went as a group to the museum, and we were joined by an eighth lady for lunch on the patio of the museum restaurant. An amusing incident arose when we ordered wine. The AWG puts out a newsletter called the Flamingo Forum. When we decided to order a bottle of rosé to share among us, the waiter brought out a bottle of Pink Flamingo wine in one of those clear vinyl ice bags, also with the Pink Flamingo logo. Several of the ladies exclaimed about the appropriateness of the wine. Another amusing incident arose toward the end of the meal. We killed the bottle of wine, but left is sitting in its bag, where the ice was turning to water. At one point, the bottle shifted and tipped the bag over, spilling its cold water on me! As a result, I got to take the bag, bottle and cork home! I plan to give the bag and cork to the group at some point – I haven’t worked out when or where yet.
After we left the museum, five of us walked across the street and entered the marine cemetery and enjoyed the view of the Mediterranean and the harbor which the sailors buried there can enjoy for eternity. Then we went down to the sea to a beach which has been restored after much erosion and encroachment by the sea. We were lucky enough to arrive during a kite surfing race. There must have been more than 50 kite surfers participating in a race, with the announcer on a loudspeaker cheering on the second-place guy, suggesting that he should beat the first-place guy because the latter was from the north and we wouldn’t want him to win! So much for non-partisanship!
We walked up the beach a bit to some housing which one of the women wanted to see. In the meantime, another woman and I decided that we needed to use the toilet, so we approached a public toilet booth. The other woman entered and I waited outside. As I waited, I read the instructions, which said, among other things, that the toilet is cleaned and sanitized between uses. “Yeah, right!” I thought. The other woman exited and I entered. The floor sloped down slightly and was wet. I went over to the stool, pulled down my pants and started to sit. However, as I did, there was a spray of water and THE TOILET BEGAN TO MOVE INTO THE WALL!!!! Okay, I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t experienced it. I hopped up quickly and stood back, then watched the entire toilet stool disappear into the wall. It was sprayed with water, then it moved back out, but only partially, then moved in again. Fortunately this time I wasn’t sitting on it! It moved back and forth several times, then came back out and seemed to be at a standstill. In the meantime, a thin sheet of water washed across the floor as well. WOW! I guess it IS cleaned and sanitized between uses! I finally dared to sit down and do my business, then got up and scrambled out of there. In the meantime the other woman is calling out to me and wondering what is happening. I finally exited and we marveled and laughed over the moving toilet. We tried to convince the other ladies of the group about what happened, but I’m not sure they ever believed us!
Peggy and I parted company from the other three ladies and headed back home. We drove a different route this time – the scenic one, and it was really beautiful. As we drove through one small town, Peggy said there was a candy store there that she had always wanted to stop at, and was I game? Candy? Am I game?! I am never not game for candy, especially if it promises to be good stuff. So we stopped and went in. They had lots of caramels and a lot of cookies they call biscuits. I bought a bundle of the latter (some of the former, too). A clerk told us that if we bought 900 grams or more of the biscuits, we would get a free biscuit tin. I managed to buy about 600 or 700 grams, and Peggy combined hers with mine and we got the “free” tin. They came in all sorts of flavors and were pretty good. I also bought some chocolate olives – small chocolates the size of olives, coated in green candy coating, some with a nut inside. Quite delicious! In all I spent 60€, or about $78 there!
The other day while walking on the street we saw a poster about the Berlin Festival Orchestra. We decided to go, and invited a woman, Patricia, to join us. We met her at the AWG party on Saturday. She invited us to her apartment for wine and cheese at 6:30, and I didn’t get home from Sète until 5:40, so I had to scramble to get ready. We made it to her apartment (also in the city center) and had a glass of wine and some lovely cheese with crackers. Then we set out for dinner at a restaurant near the concert site, which was to be the Notre Dame des Tables, the same church at which we saw Les Drôlle de Dames a couple of weeks ago. We passed the church on our way to eat, and dropped in to purchase our tickets. We selected a restaurant and had a really good meal, although we had to rush at the end. Waiters in French restaurants do not know the meaning of rush. Patricia speaks excellent French, and she really had to press him to get him to bring the check at the same time as the dessert. We tossed some money on the table and scooted up the street to the church. We entered just as the conductor was being applauded, took our seats and enjoyed a wonderful concert of Vivaldi and Pergolesi. I was not familiar with the latter, but he was an 18th century Italian composer who had the misfortune to die of tuberculosis at the age of 26. Before he died, however, he wrote a sacred work called Stabat Mater, or Grieving Mother (the mother here being Mary, mother of Jesus), for soprano, alto and orchestra, and that was performed along with Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Excellent concert! We finally made it home before 11:00, and I fell into bed, exhausted. Super day!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Flowers on the balcony
Wednesday, September 15, 2010 Day 77
After our half-hour stair workout this morning, we walked down to the Office de Tourisme to get a bicycle map, then on to the grocery store because Roger wanted some ham for his lunch. We ended up buying a planter box there – one with a saucer in the bottom of it. It was a bit cheaper than the one we bought last night, and larger as well. I am not surprised that the guy near us has to charge a premium. Today was apartment-cleaning and laundry day. Indeed, I wrote part of this from the laverie where we go to dry our sheets and towels.
We have a problem with our electricity. We first noticed it a week or so ago, when the power went out for no apparent reason. We flipped the circuit breaker, turning it back on, and went about our business. It happened a couple of other times, but we didn’t think much about it – we just reset the circuit breaker again. Yesterday, however, we began to have continual problems. The circuit breaker must have tripped at least eight times. We reduced our electricity consumption by turning off lights and unplugging our computers, but it continued. We are unable to pinpoint the issue – probably a short in something, but we cannot determine what it would be. At one point the only thing in the entire apartment which was drawing electricity was the refrigerator, and I sure hope it isn’t that! Even though it would be up to our landlord to replace it, I don’t want to have to deal with the whole issue. Today was much better. We ran the fan, charged our phone, ran the computers off of power, charged the toothbrush, washed two loads of clothes, and only had the circuit breaker trip twice. We wrote the landlord about the problem, and he told us who to call, but we don’t really want to have someone in to check it out until we can source the problem. Otherwise we are likely to have a repairman thinking we have lost our minds because we can’t duplicate the problem with him.
One of my followers asked what a carte de sejour is. When U.S. citizens come to visit France (or any other EU country, I think) all they need is a passport. They are entitled to stay for three months with no other paperwork. However, if they intend to stay beyond three months, they are supposed to apply for a visa and a carte de sejour (long stay card). The visa is issued in the U.S., then the carte de sejour is issued by the local immigration office after the visitor arrives. The visitor is supposed to apply for it within three months of his/her arrival in France, and the application is made in the city where the visitor lives. It is the card which makes us legal in France. If we intended to stay in France for our entire year, or in France along with other EU countries, we could probably get by without it. However, we intend to depart from France in January, and return later that month, so we probably need to be completely legal.
In the photo, note the geraniums on the top floor. They are ours. We have those two windows in our living area, which look out over Boulevard du Jeu de Paume. Noisy street, but the windows are double-paned and really block out most of the noise. Our bedroom is in back so we don't hear much street noise there.
After our half-hour stair workout this morning, we walked down to the Office de Tourisme to get a bicycle map, then on to the grocery store because Roger wanted some ham for his lunch. We ended up buying a planter box there – one with a saucer in the bottom of it. It was a bit cheaper than the one we bought last night, and larger as well. I am not surprised that the guy near us has to charge a premium. Today was apartment-cleaning and laundry day. Indeed, I wrote part of this from the laverie where we go to dry our sheets and towels.
We have a problem with our electricity. We first noticed it a week or so ago, when the power went out for no apparent reason. We flipped the circuit breaker, turning it back on, and went about our business. It happened a couple of other times, but we didn’t think much about it – we just reset the circuit breaker again. Yesterday, however, we began to have continual problems. The circuit breaker must have tripped at least eight times. We reduced our electricity consumption by turning off lights and unplugging our computers, but it continued. We are unable to pinpoint the issue – probably a short in something, but we cannot determine what it would be. At one point the only thing in the entire apartment which was drawing electricity was the refrigerator, and I sure hope it isn’t that! Even though it would be up to our landlord to replace it, I don’t want to have to deal with the whole issue. Today was much better. We ran the fan, charged our phone, ran the computers off of power, charged the toothbrush, washed two loads of clothes, and only had the circuit breaker trip twice. We wrote the landlord about the problem, and he told us who to call, but we don’t really want to have someone in to check it out until we can source the problem. Otherwise we are likely to have a repairman thinking we have lost our minds because we can’t duplicate the problem with him.
One of my followers asked what a carte de sejour is. When U.S. citizens come to visit France (or any other EU country, I think) all they need is a passport. They are entitled to stay for three months with no other paperwork. However, if they intend to stay beyond three months, they are supposed to apply for a visa and a carte de sejour (long stay card). The visa is issued in the U.S., then the carte de sejour is issued by the local immigration office after the visitor arrives. The visitor is supposed to apply for it within three months of his/her arrival in France, and the application is made in the city where the visitor lives. It is the card which makes us legal in France. If we intended to stay in France for our entire year, or in France along with other EU countries, we could probably get by without it. However, we intend to depart from France in January, and return later that month, so we probably need to be completely legal.
In the photo, note the geraniums on the top floor. They are ours. We have those two windows in our living area, which look out over Boulevard du Jeu de Paume. Noisy street, but the windows are double-paned and really block out most of the noise. Our bedroom is in back so we don't hear much street noise there.
14-9-2010
This guy is selling headscarves, among other things. I loved the disembodied models with their various scarves.
Olives, olives, who wants olives?
Next we went into the halle itself and bought some peaches. Our hands and our shopping cart were too laden with plants for us to buy much else, but it didn’t really matter because this halle didn’t offer much that the one near us didn’t already have as well. There were probably more olives, and lots more dates, and some Sultan brand tea, but overall it was a pretty ordinary halle. This guy probably had at least 15 different varieties of olives for sale!
Perhaps while we are here, I will learn something about olives, as I know very little. I grew up on green olives. When I first tried black olives, I didn’t like them, mostly, I think, because they didn’t taste like I expected olives to taste – that is, salty and vinegary. I learned to tolerate black olives, but those were the only two kinds of olives I knew until long after we moved to Louisiana. I would occasionally go into a shop and see Kalamata olives for sale, but I never tried them. From what I can glean, the basic difference in the varieties of olive are the different marinades in which they are treated, or perhaps in the manners in which they are cured. As I have a chance here in Europe, I hope to try different varieties – not that I will buy them, because I don’t want to be stuck with a whole lot, and I don’t know that a vendor will sell me half a dozen – but perhaps at parties or events like the Montpellier Estival, where a few different flavors may be available on a plate as an appetizer.
North African Market
Tuesday, September 14, 2010 Day 76
What a delightful morning! We hopped the blue tram to the end of the line at Mosson and walked to a weekly plant market. Beautiful flowers and plants! We bought six geraniums (three for each of our front windows), four pansies for our bedroom window, four cyclamen for our kitchen window, and a basil and a parsley, also for our kitchen window. Now I can’t wait to get them planted. I have no pots, no potting soil, no window boxes, but I was dying for some plants.
On the way out on the tram, we passed a halle which appeared to have a market outside it, so we walked from the plant market to the halle. There we discovered an extensive street market. We were clearly in the arab part of town – there were hundreds of these scarf-clad women and some men with skullcaps. The market catered to them – lots of scarves for sale, plenty of shiny fabrics for making clothing, a multitude of sleeveless tops that the arab women here tend to wear over their long-sleeved tops. We found some faux crocs and Roger bought a blue pair for 3€.
We set out this evening to determine what we would eat for supper. As we passed a charcuterie, Roger noticed that they had a pan of lasagna, so we decided on lasagna for supper. From there we walked up to a greengrocer’s to get some fresh green beans. His were a bit tired-looking but we bought a few anyway. There is a very small vendor around the corner from us who sells pots, potting soil, seeds, cat and dog carriers and a few other sundry items. I am not sure how he stays in business because his selection of merchandise is so small. But we dropped in on him and bought a planter box and a metal hanger for it. Our hands were already full of supper, so we didn’t get any potting soil. On the way back home, we stopped into our favorite boulanger and bought bread and a dessert. The baguette was right out of the oven! We started eating it on the way home. Hot bread – sooooooo good!
What a delightful morning! We hopped the blue tram to the end of the line at Mosson and walked to a weekly plant market. Beautiful flowers and plants! We bought six geraniums (three for each of our front windows), four pansies for our bedroom window, four cyclamen for our kitchen window, and a basil and a parsley, also for our kitchen window. Now I can’t wait to get them planted. I have no pots, no potting soil, no window boxes, but I was dying for some plants.
On the way out on the tram, we passed a halle which appeared to have a market outside it, so we walked from the plant market to the halle. There we discovered an extensive street market. We were clearly in the arab part of town – there were hundreds of these scarf-clad women and some men with skullcaps. The market catered to them – lots of scarves for sale, plenty of shiny fabrics for making clothing, a multitude of sleeveless tops that the arab women here tend to wear over their long-sleeved tops. We found some faux crocs and Roger bought a blue pair for 3€.
We set out this evening to determine what we would eat for supper. As we passed a charcuterie, Roger noticed that they had a pan of lasagna, so we decided on lasagna for supper. From there we walked up to a greengrocer’s to get some fresh green beans. His were a bit tired-looking but we bought a few anyway. There is a very small vendor around the corner from us who sells pots, potting soil, seeds, cat and dog carriers and a few other sundry items. I am not sure how he stays in business because his selection of merchandise is so small. But we dropped in on him and bought a planter box and a metal hanger for it. Our hands were already full of supper, so we didn’t get any potting soil. On the way back home, we stopped into our favorite boulanger and bought bread and a dessert. The baguette was right out of the oven! We started eating it on the way home. Hot bread – sooooooo good!
Velos
Monday, September 13, 2010 Day 75
Thirty minutes of stair climbing this morning, plus ten minutes each way to get there. This is getting to be a pretty good routine. When we first moved into our apartment, I could barely make it up two of the three flights of stairs without huffing and puffing mightily, let alone the third flight. Now I can make all three without stopping.
The city has a bicycle rental program. There are various plans, ranging from one-time use or one-week use all the way up to a 3-month pass or an annual pass. We decided to try out the 50-hour thing first and see how that goes. We went to the TaM (the main transit office) to get the bicycle pass. We had to take our apartment contract, passeport, our RIB (proof of bank account) and 10€ each. They have to have our RIB in case we don’t return a bike, in which case they hit us up for something like 150€. The 10€ gets us 50 hours of bicycle use. In typical French bureaucratic fashion, this took 15 minutes of standing in line and another 20 or so of working with the clerk once we got up there, but we walked away with our little green cards. We will probably try them out by the weekend.
Thirty minutes of stair climbing this morning, plus ten minutes each way to get there. This is getting to be a pretty good routine. When we first moved into our apartment, I could barely make it up two of the three flights of stairs without huffing and puffing mightily, let alone the third flight. Now I can make all three without stopping.
The city has a bicycle rental program. There are various plans, ranging from one-time use or one-week use all the way up to a 3-month pass or an annual pass. We decided to try out the 50-hour thing first and see how that goes. We went to the TaM (the main transit office) to get the bicycle pass. We had to take our apartment contract, passeport, our RIB (proof of bank account) and 10€ each. They have to have our RIB in case we don’t return a bike, in which case they hit us up for something like 150€. The 10€ gets us 50 hours of bicycle use. In typical French bureaucratic fashion, this took 15 minutes of standing in line and another 20 or so of working with the clerk once we got up there, but we walked away with our little green cards. We will probably try them out by the weekend.
12-9-2010
The aqueduct not too far from where it enters the Peyrou - half a mile or so from our house.
Dog Park!
Sunday, September 12, 2010 Day 74
Generally Roger beats me up every morning – not in the physical sense, but in the timing sense. I would probably sleep until 8:30 or 9:00 every morning, but he is usually up before 7:30, sometimes earlier. This morning I had the pleasure of beating him up! It was 9:20 when I rolled out of bed and he was still dozing! That is some kind of record for him – he doesn’t even sleep past 8:00 more than once a year or so.
What a wonderful party last night – Roger and I actually had conversations in English with people than each other. Such a joy!
We did not make our cardio at the Peyrou. Instead, we lazed around for that short portion of the morning that was left after we had breakfast and hung out the laundry. This afternoon we set out on a walk to find the opposite end of the Aqueduct St. Clement, which terminates at the Peyrou. We didn’t have very far to go – probably no more than a mile or so. It terminated at a very modern and very uninteresting water tower. So we made our way back via a different route, trying to get to know the city beyond the historic center where we live. On the way back, we saw a dog park – the first since arriving in France! It was a little small, but at least it was there and available to dogs. I have a new appreciation for dog parks, partly on account of my grand-dog, Bruno, and partly because we spent two months in Paris, where apparently they don't believe in dog parks.
Generally Roger beats me up every morning – not in the physical sense, but in the timing sense. I would probably sleep until 8:30 or 9:00 every morning, but he is usually up before 7:30, sometimes earlier. This morning I had the pleasure of beating him up! It was 9:20 when I rolled out of bed and he was still dozing! That is some kind of record for him – he doesn’t even sleep past 8:00 more than once a year or so.
What a wonderful party last night – Roger and I actually had conversations in English with people than each other. Such a joy!
We did not make our cardio at the Peyrou. Instead, we lazed around for that short portion of the morning that was left after we had breakfast and hung out the laundry. This afternoon we set out on a walk to find the opposite end of the Aqueduct St. Clement, which terminates at the Peyrou. We didn’t have very far to go – probably no more than a mile or so. It terminated at a very modern and very uninteresting water tower. So we made our way back via a different route, trying to get to know the city beyond the historic center where we live. On the way back, we saw a dog park – the first since arriving in France! It was a little small, but at least it was there and available to dogs. I have a new appreciation for dog parks, partly on account of my grand-dog, Bruno, and partly because we spent two months in Paris, where apparently they don't believe in dog parks.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
11-9-2010
We took this photo of a sundial on the side of a building on one of our walks. It was actually five o'clock by our watch. We could understand why it was off by one hour, but not by two. Roger checked it out later and discovered that France should really be at GMT instead of GMT +1 - that is, it should be in the same time zone as England. Instead, France chose to be in the same time zone as most of the rest of central Europe. And isn't that an interesting perspective - that the sundial, being on "solar time" is "off" by two hours rather than that our time is off by two hours. Hmm - such a egocentric view!
Party time!
Saturday, September 11, 2010 Day 73
We went for our morning walk on the stairs of the Peyrou. On the way back, we detoured to see a St. Anne’s, a church which is visible from our bedroom window, but which we had not yet explored. We entered it and were surprised to find that it is a decommissioned (there is probably a better word, but I don’t know it). It was empty of pews, alter, everything else one expects to find in a church. The church was built in 1866 to 1869 at the time of the economic advancement of the city in parallel to the development of the trade of the wine. Its majestic bell-tower is visible to all of Montpellier. The church was converted into a cultural space in 1991 and now hosts exhibitions and festivals throughout the year, with a special focus on contemporary local artists.
Later in the morning I spent a couple of hours on the internet working out the bus route and mapping a walking route out to an AWG party in a small village called Lattes. The walking route was ultimately for naught, as there are parts of the trip which are country roads with no sidewalks, and we do not dare try that at night. We could take the bus out, but it is unclear whether the bus would stop for us later at night, so we planned to go to a party where we know NO ONE and try to bum a ride back home!
I only had one reminder that this is the anniversary of the terrorist attacks in the U.S. 9 years ago. It was on Facebook. It is really, REALLY nice to be away from the media overload in the U.S. about the attacks and all the attendant fal-de-ral with the “Mosque at Ground Zero” non-issue.
About noon, I checked the AWG website again and discovered that attendees are expected to bring a dish, an “aperitif,” so I looked at some French recipes and decided to throw something together. We went out to the market for Spanish ham, goat cheese, kiwis and bread crisps. Now I know what a boulangeries do with all their left-over baguettes and bread – they toast them, bag them up and sell them! When I got home, I combined the goat cheese with my lovely framboise vinegar and mashed it up really well, I spread a bit on two toasts, then wrapped the rest in saran and put it in the refrigerator. I sliced the kiwis and checked out the ham, then made two appetizers, one for Roger, one for myself. They consisted of a toast, the goat cheese, then super-thin-sliced ham, then a kiwi slice. Not bad. I put all that together to take to the party. We dressed and left to catch the tram to the bus stop, and we were way too early – we had almost 30 minutes to kill once we got to the bus stop. But then, buses don’t wait, so we knew we were better off being early than late. The bus ride was about 20 minutes long and made about five stops before ours. We had an easy 10-minute walk to the hostess’ house and we began to introduce ourselves at the doorstep.
Upon our arrival, I told the hostess that I needed a plate and a table knife, and I set out to assemble my appetizer. That took little time, but I had planned for 16 appetizers and the plate only had room for nine or ten, so I put the remainder of the stuff in the refrigerator and went out to meet people. We met lots of really nice people. Some had been there for years, a few were, like us, new to the area. There were at least three French women there – people born and raised in France, but who spoke English quite well. About a third of the people there were men; many (but not all) of these were French husbands to American wives. The main introductory questions, at least among people I talked to, were: where do you live, where do you come from, what brings you to Montpellier. Halfway through the evening, I noticed that there was only one of my kiwi appetizers left, so I finished up the rest of the toasts with the cheese, ham and kiwi. I then ate the remaining kiwi slices, cheese and ham. Yum! We managed to locate a ride back into town with a woman named Peggy who lives about a 10-minute walk from our place, just beyond the Peyrou. I got email addresses of three women, and when we got home, I promptly emailed all three plus the hostess to thank her for allowing us to come. I hope we have made some good contacts!
We went for our morning walk on the stairs of the Peyrou. On the way back, we detoured to see a St. Anne’s, a church which is visible from our bedroom window, but which we had not yet explored. We entered it and were surprised to find that it is a decommissioned (there is probably a better word, but I don’t know it). It was empty of pews, alter, everything else one expects to find in a church. The church was built in 1866 to 1869 at the time of the economic advancement of the city in parallel to the development of the trade of the wine. Its majestic bell-tower is visible to all of Montpellier. The church was converted into a cultural space in 1991 and now hosts exhibitions and festivals throughout the year, with a special focus on contemporary local artists.
Later in the morning I spent a couple of hours on the internet working out the bus route and mapping a walking route out to an AWG party in a small village called Lattes. The walking route was ultimately for naught, as there are parts of the trip which are country roads with no sidewalks, and we do not dare try that at night. We could take the bus out, but it is unclear whether the bus would stop for us later at night, so we planned to go to a party where we know NO ONE and try to bum a ride back home!
I only had one reminder that this is the anniversary of the terrorist attacks in the U.S. 9 years ago. It was on Facebook. It is really, REALLY nice to be away from the media overload in the U.S. about the attacks and all the attendant fal-de-ral with the “Mosque at Ground Zero” non-issue.
About noon, I checked the AWG website again and discovered that attendees are expected to bring a dish, an “aperitif,” so I looked at some French recipes and decided to throw something together. We went out to the market for Spanish ham, goat cheese, kiwis and bread crisps. Now I know what a boulangeries do with all their left-over baguettes and bread – they toast them, bag them up and sell them! When I got home, I combined the goat cheese with my lovely framboise vinegar and mashed it up really well, I spread a bit on two toasts, then wrapped the rest in saran and put it in the refrigerator. I sliced the kiwis and checked out the ham, then made two appetizers, one for Roger, one for myself. They consisted of a toast, the goat cheese, then super-thin-sliced ham, then a kiwi slice. Not bad. I put all that together to take to the party. We dressed and left to catch the tram to the bus stop, and we were way too early – we had almost 30 minutes to kill once we got to the bus stop. But then, buses don’t wait, so we knew we were better off being early than late. The bus ride was about 20 minutes long and made about five stops before ours. We had an easy 10-minute walk to the hostess’ house and we began to introduce ourselves at the doorstep.
Upon our arrival, I told the hostess that I needed a plate and a table knife, and I set out to assemble my appetizer. That took little time, but I had planned for 16 appetizers and the plate only had room for nine or ten, so I put the remainder of the stuff in the refrigerator and went out to meet people. We met lots of really nice people. Some had been there for years, a few were, like us, new to the area. There were at least three French women there – people born and raised in France, but who spoke English quite well. About a third of the people there were men; many (but not all) of these were French husbands to American wives. The main introductory questions, at least among people I talked to, were: where do you live, where do you come from, what brings you to Montpellier. Halfway through the evening, I noticed that there was only one of my kiwi appetizers left, so I finished up the rest of the toasts with the cheese, ham and kiwi. I then ate the remaining kiwi slices, cheese and ham. Yum! We managed to locate a ride back into town with a woman named Peggy who lives about a 10-minute walk from our place, just beyond the Peyrou. I got email addresses of three women, and when we got home, I promptly emailed all three plus the hostess to thank her for allowing us to come. I hope we have made some good contacts!
10-9-2010
I snapped this photo at the Estival because I was impressed by the HUGE loaves of bread. I think this was the booth where we bought our bruschetta. Check out the French guy in his beret!
10-9-2010
This is our apple from the canoe trip. Actually, we think it might be a pear - it is rather mis-shapen for either fruit. We will probably cut it in a day or two, although we don't expect to eat it. Pear or apple, it probably isn't ripe.
Canoeing and Estival
Friday, September 10, 2010 Day 72
Roger and I grew up on the plains of West Texas, moved to the coastal plains of south Texas, then on to LaPlace, just outside of New Orleans. What do all these three have in common? They are flat. Even Paris was relatively flat. Montpellier is comfortably hilly. Those of you who live in the mountains would probably think of this area as pretty flat as well, but for flatlanders such as we, this area is hilly. This makes our walks wonderfully strenuous in a manner in which we are not accustomed. We are trying to increase the strenuousness by walking up and down lots of steps; indeed, I generally welcome steps and inclines, as I know they are helping me to build strength and stamina.
After our cardio stepping, we spent some time looking for crocs or similar shoes. Roger wanted some for our canoe outing this afternoon rather than wear shoes he has to dry out or which might get ruined. No such luck. Last week I did see a bin of plastic shoes in the market on the Place de la Comedie, but there were none there today. We knew we had to get out of the city center to shop, as there are virtually no stores in this area which carry cheap stuff like that. So we roamed streets on the periphery for a while. We did find a Carrefour, which is the grocery store we shopped at in Paris, but no plastic shoes. We finally had to give up and go home, as it was lunchtime and we had to leave for canoeing around 2:00.
The canoe trip was interesting. We canoed on the Lez, a river about a mile from the city center. There were about 15 in our group. Three of us had 2-person canoes, the other 8 or 9 had single-person boats or kayaks. Six or so of us speak English as our native language, and our guide translated for us. It took a good half an hour for us to get our life vests on, get the boats into the water and rescue the one kayaker who got swept downriver toward a low dam. Then we gathered our boats around the guides’ canoe to hear a bit of history about the river, including that it flooded in the past a great deal, which is why the center of Montpellier is a mile away, on much higher ground. The guide’s pronunciation was amusing. If F-O-O-D is pronounced fūd, shouldn’t F-L-O-O-D be pronounced flūd? That is the way he pronounced it the whole trip. He had trouble remembering the term “flour.” This came up a lot because there used to be mills on the river. The trip up the river was about a mile or so, until we came to another small dam, then we turned around and came back. It was designed as a history trip for all levels of canoers, so there were no rapids, no white water. It was fun and interesting nevertheless. We saw a swan in the river, and fish. On the way back, we picked a few apples (not ripe, I think), some figs and some blackberries – only a few of each. Except for the apple, we ate everything we picked. When we returned to the Maison du Lez where the canoes are stored, we were somewhat wet, as our canoes were molded canoes with very little interior space, and even a little water in the canoe tended to flow onto us at times. We did not sit up on seats above the canoe, but rather down in it. We have no pictures because we were afraid to take the camera along – we didn’t want to lose it to the water. We were not as wet as one of the guys, whose kayak cover was not securely fastened and he had lots of water sloshing around in his kayak. Several of us left looking like we had peed in our pants! It was about a half-hour walk home, and by the time we got back, we were mostly dried out. Roger’s shoes survived the event without much damage.
It was after 6:00 when we got home, and we were exhausted. We chilled for an hour or so, then walked across to the last night of the Estiavl de Montpellier. This time we bought a glass each for wine. Each glass comes with three tickets in it, and each ticket entitled the holder to a “taste” of wine. The glass had a 10 cl. mark on it, and I think that was the suggested serving size, but we probably got 12-15 cl. each time! There were probably 100 or so wines to taste. If we had been here longer, we could have had a real sampling of the wines of the region, but we passed on the wine last week and this is the final night of the Estival. We started with some food, and we took the opportunity to try a plate of six different cheeses, accompanied by a fig and a couple of pieces of bread. Then we sampled some falafel and our first glass of wine. We shared a bruschetta-type thing and had a second glass of wine. We ended with a nectarine tart and a chocolate cannele and a third glass of wine. OKAY!! We had a bit of a buzz on by this time. Next Roger left to get some candy and I went to the same booth I visited last week and bought some more fruit-infused vinegar. I had been using the ones I bought last Friday in my salads all week, and I used the poivre rouge on our fish one night, which turned out really delicious. Instead of the assortment of five small bottles I got last week, I chose two larger bottles, one of the framboise (raspberry) and one of the poivre rouge (red pepper). As a lagniappe, she threw in a small bottle of passion fruit. Delightful! We met back at the fountain and staggered home to bed. We were slightly tipsy and really tired, but it was a nice way to end the day.
Roger and I grew up on the plains of West Texas, moved to the coastal plains of south Texas, then on to LaPlace, just outside of New Orleans. What do all these three have in common? They are flat. Even Paris was relatively flat. Montpellier is comfortably hilly. Those of you who live in the mountains would probably think of this area as pretty flat as well, but for flatlanders such as we, this area is hilly. This makes our walks wonderfully strenuous in a manner in which we are not accustomed. We are trying to increase the strenuousness by walking up and down lots of steps; indeed, I generally welcome steps and inclines, as I know they are helping me to build strength and stamina.
After our cardio stepping, we spent some time looking for crocs or similar shoes. Roger wanted some for our canoe outing this afternoon rather than wear shoes he has to dry out or which might get ruined. No such luck. Last week I did see a bin of plastic shoes in the market on the Place de la Comedie, but there were none there today. We knew we had to get out of the city center to shop, as there are virtually no stores in this area which carry cheap stuff like that. So we roamed streets on the periphery for a while. We did find a Carrefour, which is the grocery store we shopped at in Paris, but no plastic shoes. We finally had to give up and go home, as it was lunchtime and we had to leave for canoeing around 2:00.
The canoe trip was interesting. We canoed on the Lez, a river about a mile from the city center. There were about 15 in our group. Three of us had 2-person canoes, the other 8 or 9 had single-person boats or kayaks. Six or so of us speak English as our native language, and our guide translated for us. It took a good half an hour for us to get our life vests on, get the boats into the water and rescue the one kayaker who got swept downriver toward a low dam. Then we gathered our boats around the guides’ canoe to hear a bit of history about the river, including that it flooded in the past a great deal, which is why the center of Montpellier is a mile away, on much higher ground. The guide’s pronunciation was amusing. If F-O-O-D is pronounced fūd, shouldn’t F-L-O-O-D be pronounced flūd? That is the way he pronounced it the whole trip. He had trouble remembering the term “flour.” This came up a lot because there used to be mills on the river. The trip up the river was about a mile or so, until we came to another small dam, then we turned around and came back. It was designed as a history trip for all levels of canoers, so there were no rapids, no white water. It was fun and interesting nevertheless. We saw a swan in the river, and fish. On the way back, we picked a few apples (not ripe, I think), some figs and some blackberries – only a few of each. Except for the apple, we ate everything we picked. When we returned to the Maison du Lez where the canoes are stored, we were somewhat wet, as our canoes were molded canoes with very little interior space, and even a little water in the canoe tended to flow onto us at times. We did not sit up on seats above the canoe, but rather down in it. We have no pictures because we were afraid to take the camera along – we didn’t want to lose it to the water. We were not as wet as one of the guys, whose kayak cover was not securely fastened and he had lots of water sloshing around in his kayak. Several of us left looking like we had peed in our pants! It was about a half-hour walk home, and by the time we got back, we were mostly dried out. Roger’s shoes survived the event without much damage.
It was after 6:00 when we got home, and we were exhausted. We chilled for an hour or so, then walked across to the last night of the Estiavl de Montpellier. This time we bought a glass each for wine. Each glass comes with three tickets in it, and each ticket entitled the holder to a “taste” of wine. The glass had a 10 cl. mark on it, and I think that was the suggested serving size, but we probably got 12-15 cl. each time! There were probably 100 or so wines to taste. If we had been here longer, we could have had a real sampling of the wines of the region, but we passed on the wine last week and this is the final night of the Estival. We started with some food, and we took the opportunity to try a plate of six different cheeses, accompanied by a fig and a couple of pieces of bread. Then we sampled some falafel and our first glass of wine. We shared a bruschetta-type thing and had a second glass of wine. We ended with a nectarine tart and a chocolate cannele and a third glass of wine. OKAY!! We had a bit of a buzz on by this time. Next Roger left to get some candy and I went to the same booth I visited last week and bought some more fruit-infused vinegar. I had been using the ones I bought last Friday in my salads all week, and I used the poivre rouge on our fish one night, which turned out really delicious. Instead of the assortment of five small bottles I got last week, I chose two larger bottles, one of the framboise (raspberry) and one of the poivre rouge (red pepper). As a lagniappe, she threw in a small bottle of passion fruit. Delightful! We met back at the fountain and staggered home to bed. We were slightly tipsy and really tired, but it was a nice way to end the day.
12-9-2010
Later in the afternoon we went down to the Place de la Comedie and strolled the market. I found an awesome scarf for only 10€. It is a plain, navy blue scarf, but it has some jewels and silver at the bottom of it and it looks really nifty. I have been telling myself ever since our first cool days in Paris that I wanted to buy a scarf, and was eyeballing some in the markets there. I also checked a few of the shops, but theirs were priced mostly 25€ or more, and I didn’t want to pay that much. But this one is perfect! I don't know if I will look French or decidedly American in it!
9-9-2010
Note the bare feet on this juggler who entertained drivers while they waited at a red light, then hit them up for coins just before the light turned green.
Working on the Carte de Sejour
Thursday, September 9, 2010 Day 71
We sent our visa validation stuff off to the OFII today. Now we have to sit back and wait for them to contact us. We have no idea how long that will be. Apparently we have to have a medical check-up, but it is done at the OFII, so it is probably a pulse, blood pressure, ear and throat check or something similar. I can’t imagine that it would be too extensive. These are all necessary for us to get our carte de sejour, which is our long-stay permit to remain in France for a year.
We are working on mapping out our cardio route. I took the GPS along to map our route and check our speed, but the streets are so narrow here that it is hard to keep satellite contact while heading to the Peyrou. Once we are there, the whole area is open, so we can walk up and down the stairs and measure our progress.
We went for an afternoon walk in a new direction today. Our goal was to explore a green space on the map which looked like a park. It turned out not to be, but rather a school. On the way back we saw a street juggler. He stood in the street between the lanes of traffic when the light turned red, and juggled for coins from the cars waiting at the light. This is a lot better than having my windshield sloppily cleaned while waiting for the light to turn! I’d take this any day! We left him a Euro.
I learned of an AWG welcome-back party on Saturday, so I sent an email to the hostess, Rachel, to see if we could come. The RSVP deadline was yesterday, but I hadn’t found out about it until today. Didn’t get a reply back.
We sent our visa validation stuff off to the OFII today. Now we have to sit back and wait for them to contact us. We have no idea how long that will be. Apparently we have to have a medical check-up, but it is done at the OFII, so it is probably a pulse, blood pressure, ear and throat check or something similar. I can’t imagine that it would be too extensive. These are all necessary for us to get our carte de sejour, which is our long-stay permit to remain in France for a year.
We are working on mapping out our cardio route. I took the GPS along to map our route and check our speed, but the streets are so narrow here that it is hard to keep satellite contact while heading to the Peyrou. Once we are there, the whole area is open, so we can walk up and down the stairs and measure our progress.
We went for an afternoon walk in a new direction today. Our goal was to explore a green space on the map which looked like a park. It turned out not to be, but rather a school. On the way back we saw a street juggler. He stood in the street between the lanes of traffic when the light turned red, and juggled for coins from the cars waiting at the light. This is a lot better than having my windshield sloppily cleaned while waiting for the light to turn! I’d take this any day! We left him a Euro.
I learned of an AWG welcome-back party on Saturday, so I sent an email to the hostess, Rachel, to see if we could come. The RSVP deadline was yesterday, but I hadn’t found out about it until today. Didn’t get a reply back.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
7-9-2010
We walked through a large plaza on our way to the river and came upon a nude statue. It wasn't until we turned to glance back that we saw that even Poseidon supports the strikers!
Dryer-fresh towels
Wednesday, September 8, 2010 Day 70
We declared today to be apartment-cleaning day. We grew tired of the harsh feeling of the line-dried towels while we were in Paris, so we determined to machine-dry them here, since we are just around the corner from a laverie. I did two loads of sheets and towels in our washer here and Roger lugged the basket around the corner to put them into a dryer. They are so soft! This seems like such a little thing, but a scratchy towel is a real pain!
I located a group here called the American Women’s Group (AWG) of Languedoc-Roussillon (which is the area we live in) and emailed one of the members. She invited me to a bookclub meeting on Friday afternoon. Unfortunately Roger and I already have a commitment at that time – we are going on a canoe tour of Montpellier. I don’t know how much we will get out of the narration by the guide, since it will probably be in French, but we should enjoy the canoeing.
We declared today to be apartment-cleaning day. We grew tired of the harsh feeling of the line-dried towels while we were in Paris, so we determined to machine-dry them here, since we are just around the corner from a laverie. I did two loads of sheets and towels in our washer here and Roger lugged the basket around the corner to put them into a dryer. They are so soft! This seems like such a little thing, but a scratchy towel is a real pain!
I located a group here called the American Women’s Group (AWG) of Languedoc-Roussillon (which is the area we live in) and emailed one of the members. She invited me to a bookclub meeting on Friday afternoon. Unfortunately Roger and I already have a commitment at that time – we are going on a canoe tour of Montpellier. I don’t know how much we will get out of the narration by the guide, since it will probably be in French, but we should enjoy the canoeing.
7-9-2010
I did not get a good photo of this guy, but he was kind of suspicious. I wish I had, so that you could see his hair and beard. In the photo you can see that his beard is gold. The gold only goes to the center of the chin, then stops. However, the hair on the right side of his head is also gold! Maybe he is a Saints fan!
La Grève
Tuesday, September 7, 2010 Day 69
Today is a general strike day in France. We were alerted about it before we left Paris; however, we weren’t sure it applied down here as well. Apparently it is nationwide. The strike is in protest to the proposed raising of the retirement age from 60 years to 62 years. France, like Greece, the U.S. and many other industrialized countries, has found that it cannot support a generous retirement age and is moving to raise the age in an effort to stave off bankrupting the system. The result of the strike is that many of the trains, metros, trams and transit systems were not running today. Others were running, but on a reduced schedule. At least 30% of teachers were expected to be out, maybe more. I am not sure if that includes college faculty. Government workers were scheduled to strike – the post office is closed – as well as broadcast workers.
We took a cardio walk this morning. We set out for the Peyrou, which contains lots of steps. We spent 15 minutes walking up and down steps and between staircases. It was a good workout. We need to do this every day. Of course, the 61 steps up to our apartment get our hearts to working quite hard as well!
Today we got copies made of our carte de sejour application stuff and will send it in tomorrow. Then we have to wait for our appointment for a personal appearance. I think there is going to be a lot of red tape. We managed to cut through much of it in the U.S., but here I think we may be stuck plowing our way through it a bit at a time.
We saw the aftermath of a protest march when we went out about 4:00 to walk to the river. There were a couple of thousand people or more in the main streets and the Plaza Comedie, many standing around in groups talking. Some people carried furled flags, a few wore some sort of uniform. When we returned through the Comedie an hour later, the crowds were considerably reduced, although still heavier than normal.
Today is a general strike day in France. We were alerted about it before we left Paris; however, we weren’t sure it applied down here as well. Apparently it is nationwide. The strike is in protest to the proposed raising of the retirement age from 60 years to 62 years. France, like Greece, the U.S. and many other industrialized countries, has found that it cannot support a generous retirement age and is moving to raise the age in an effort to stave off bankrupting the system. The result of the strike is that many of the trains, metros, trams and transit systems were not running today. Others were running, but on a reduced schedule. At least 30% of teachers were expected to be out, maybe more. I am not sure if that includes college faculty. Government workers were scheduled to strike – the post office is closed – as well as broadcast workers.
We took a cardio walk this morning. We set out for the Peyrou, which contains lots of steps. We spent 15 minutes walking up and down steps and between staircases. It was a good workout. We need to do this every day. Of course, the 61 steps up to our apartment get our hearts to working quite hard as well!
Today we got copies made of our carte de sejour application stuff and will send it in tomorrow. Then we have to wait for our appointment for a personal appearance. I think there is going to be a lot of red tape. We managed to cut through much of it in the U.S., but here I think we may be stuck plowing our way through it a bit at a time.
We saw the aftermath of a protest march when we went out about 4:00 to walk to the river. There were a couple of thousand people or more in the main streets and the Plaza Comedie, many standing around in groups talking. Some people carried furled flags, a few wore some sort of uniform. When we returned through the Comedie an hour later, the crowds were considerably reduced, although still heavier than normal.
6-9-2010
Don't these look quite Seussical?! They are in a playground in Place Charles de Gaulle about a 10-minute walk from our apartment. I want to be a kid again and play on these!
OFII
Monday, September 6, 2010 Day 68
We visited the OFII, which is France’s immigration office. We just wanted to get some information, but we achieved very little. There was no one available who spoke English, although we were invited to sit down and wait. After about 15 minutes, we gave up and left. Roger spent a good deal of time on the internet this afternoon looking for information about the procedure, and he was able to find some stuff, but the OFII website is woefully inadequate. We also went to the Tourist Office to try to get some tickets, but the lines were too long so we put it off for another day. Two strikes!
At the market today we bought some zucchini, onions, eggplant and bell pepper with an eye toward making creole squash. We had never tried it with eggplant, and it turned out quite well. It seemed that the eggplant absorbed a lot of the salt in the recipe, but overall it was very delicious.
We visited the OFII, which is France’s immigration office. We just wanted to get some information, but we achieved very little. There was no one available who spoke English, although we were invited to sit down and wait. After about 15 minutes, we gave up and left. Roger spent a good deal of time on the internet this afternoon looking for information about the procedure, and he was able to find some stuff, but the OFII website is woefully inadequate. We also went to the Tourist Office to try to get some tickets, but the lines were too long so we put it off for another day. Two strikes!
At the market today we bought some zucchini, onions, eggplant and bell pepper with an eye toward making creole squash. We had never tried it with eggplant, and it turned out quite well. It seemed that the eggplant absorbed a lot of the salt in the recipe, but overall it was very delicious.
5-9-2010
I have seldom shopped at IKEA because I never lived in an area where I had access to one. Are the stair rails like this in every IKEA? Nifty!
IKEA
Sunday, September 5, 2010 Day 67
This morning we boarded the blue tram for a trip to both ends. We headed first to Mosson at the far western end of the tram line for a visit to a flea market. We wandered the aisles and ended up with two large beer steins to use for tea glasses and a pretty decent pitcher to replace the one we broke in Paris. We had a couple of sandwiches there for lunch – Roger had a beef kabob and I mine was sausage of some sort. Both were typical fare for that sort of gathering – not bad, but nothing to blog about. From there we boarded the tram again and rode it to its terminal in the southeast, where we got off and walked to Ikea. This was purely an exploratory trip – no purchases at this time – but we wanted to get a feel for what they have in the way of shelving, as this apartment is sorely lacking in storage space. I also have my eye out for planters for the windows in the apartment. This was Roger’s introduction to Ikea – he had never shopped in an Ikea before today. The store does not usually have Sunday hours, but I think they were probably open today in celebration of the opening of school. In general, stores are expected to be closed on Sundays, but they can open occasionally for a special event upon application to local authorities. Ikea bought itself a $700,000 fine a couple of years ago by being open Sundays in a Paris suburb, apparently on a continual basis. All that being said, Ikea had nothing to offer that we were willing to buy this trip. We did see some shelves and some wall décor we might indulge in later, but not today.
This morning we boarded the blue tram for a trip to both ends. We headed first to Mosson at the far western end of the tram line for a visit to a flea market. We wandered the aisles and ended up with two large beer steins to use for tea glasses and a pretty decent pitcher to replace the one we broke in Paris. We had a couple of sandwiches there for lunch – Roger had a beef kabob and I mine was sausage of some sort. Both were typical fare for that sort of gathering – not bad, but nothing to blog about. From there we boarded the tram again and rode it to its terminal in the southeast, where we got off and walked to Ikea. This was purely an exploratory trip – no purchases at this time – but we wanted to get a feel for what they have in the way of shelving, as this apartment is sorely lacking in storage space. I also have my eye out for planters for the windows in the apartment. This was Roger’s introduction to Ikea – he had never shopped in an Ikea before today. The store does not usually have Sunday hours, but I think they were probably open today in celebration of the opening of school. In general, stores are expected to be closed on Sundays, but they can open occasionally for a special event upon application to local authorities. Ikea bought itself a $700,000 fine a couple of years ago by being open Sundays in a Paris suburb, apparently on a continual basis. All that being said, Ikea had nothing to offer that we were willing to buy this trip. We did see some shelves and some wall décor we might indulge in later, but not today.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
4-9-2010
One of the last lotus blossoms in the botanical gardens. The rest have already gone to seed. You can see one of the seed pods in the upper portion of the photo. Note that these are huge - the unopened bud is about the size of a baseball.
Internet access at last!
Saturday, September 4, 2010 Day 66
Roger is beginning to chafe under the lack of internet access. He has finished all the e-books on his computer and is dying for more. He is thinking about taking his computer to the internet café down the street, but when I was there yesterday, I didn’t need my computer – there were already plenty of computers with quite large (21” diagonal? larger?) and there were probably 20 or so mostly guys in there playing computer games. I had taken my computer because I needed to get on-line to print a form from there, but I had put the other docs on a flash drive so there was not much of a problem accessing them. I don’t know if they will let him use his own computer there or not.
Francis arrived at 2:00 and checked a few things out while waiting for Orange to call. They finally did, and after he worked a bit of magic, we had internet service! Thank you, Francis! It appears that the internet option had been turned off at the Orange for some reason, as if the customer opted out of it temporarily. But we don’t really care what the problem is, we are just very glad to have an internet connection again. Further, Francis said he would bill Mr. Stevenson for the work!
We were so starved for on-line access that we stayed in the apartment on the internet until close to 6:00, when we forced ourselves to get up and out for a bit. We walked for probably an hour, reacquainting ourselves first with the Peyrou, which is a large plaza area at the highest point of Montpellier. The plaza is built of interlinking terraces and stone staircases and is capped with an Arc de Triomphe. At the opposite end of the plaza is the Aqueduct St. Clement, which runs for 15 km and was built in the 18th century to supply water to the city. It supplies water to the city fountains. I think, but have not been able to ascertain, that the plaza is built on a huge water tank fed by the aqueduct. It is topped by a structure called a water tank, which marks the greatest height to which a building can be built in Montpellier. From there we explored the botanical gardens a bit, although they are large and we did not take the time to tour them extensively. When we were here in the fall, a portion of the more formal gardens was closed. We will be investigating further in greater detail at a future date – the gardens, which are a ten-minute walk from our apartment, are a lovely place to have a picnic.
We noticed that the area seems rather dry – I do not know when it last rained here. Many of the trees along the Peyrou have leaves which have begun to turn yellow and brown and fall off. Other areas look similarly dry. Historically July and August are dry months, and the past couple of months could have been even dryer than normal – I haven’t kept track. These first few days in the south have been warm but not too hot, for which we are grateful since our apartment doesn’t have air conditioning. We do have fans, which help considerably. Once the sun goes down, the ambient air cools off. We open our windows and the interior of the apartment becomes quite tolerable.
Roger is beginning to chafe under the lack of internet access. He has finished all the e-books on his computer and is dying for more. He is thinking about taking his computer to the internet café down the street, but when I was there yesterday, I didn’t need my computer – there were already plenty of computers with quite large (21” diagonal? larger?) and there were probably 20 or so mostly guys in there playing computer games. I had taken my computer because I needed to get on-line to print a form from there, but I had put the other docs on a flash drive so there was not much of a problem accessing them. I don’t know if they will let him use his own computer there or not.
Francis arrived at 2:00 and checked a few things out while waiting for Orange to call. They finally did, and after he worked a bit of magic, we had internet service! Thank you, Francis! It appears that the internet option had been turned off at the Orange for some reason, as if the customer opted out of it temporarily. But we don’t really care what the problem is, we are just very glad to have an internet connection again. Further, Francis said he would bill Mr. Stevenson for the work!
We were so starved for on-line access that we stayed in the apartment on the internet until close to 6:00, when we forced ourselves to get up and out for a bit. We walked for probably an hour, reacquainting ourselves first with the Peyrou, which is a large plaza area at the highest point of Montpellier. The plaza is built of interlinking terraces and stone staircases and is capped with an Arc de Triomphe. At the opposite end of the plaza is the Aqueduct St. Clement, which runs for 15 km and was built in the 18th century to supply water to the city. It supplies water to the city fountains. I think, but have not been able to ascertain, that the plaza is built on a huge water tank fed by the aqueduct. It is topped by a structure called a water tank, which marks the greatest height to which a building can be built in Montpellier. From there we explored the botanical gardens a bit, although they are large and we did not take the time to tour them extensively. When we were here in the fall, a portion of the more formal gardens was closed. We will be investigating further in greater detail at a future date – the gardens, which are a ten-minute walk from our apartment, are a lovely place to have a picnic.
We noticed that the area seems rather dry – I do not know when it last rained here. Many of the trees along the Peyrou have leaves which have begun to turn yellow and brown and fall off. Other areas look similarly dry. Historically July and August are dry months, and the past couple of months could have been even dryer than normal – I haven’t kept track. These first few days in the south have been warm but not too hot, for which we are grateful since our apartment doesn’t have air conditioning. We do have fans, which help considerably. Once the sun goes down, the ambient air cools off. We open our windows and the interior of the apartment becomes quite tolerable.
3-9-2010
Today I bought a paper hat! It appears that a strip of colored paper has been very tightly twisted to form a coarse thread. Hundreds of these threads have then been woven into the shape of a hat, with the warp being done uniformly in brown and the weft containing various colors of thread. Really nifty! I don’t think I can afford to get it wet!! This is what happens when Roger lets me out alone! I did come back with ice cream for him. I went out to mail a couple of things for work, and he didn’t want to go with me. So after I went to the post office, I wandered around and found a market (trust me to find a market!). I was going to drop into a shop as well, but when I found the ice cream, I was forced to go straight back to the apartment.
A festival
Friday, September 3, 2010 Day 65
I was the one chosen to go out and get breakfast, so I bought a pain au raisin for Roger, a pain au chocolate for me, and a pain au lait for the two of us to split. We made tea and had a delicious breakfast.
I did some laundry this morning, learning the joys of yet another French washing machine. Roger spent much of the morning working on leveling the stove (there is no little screw-down leveling leg) and exploring the contents of various boxes of tools, painting implements, tiling trowels and other miscellany.
We determined that we need not stay all day at the apartment, so we left late in the morning to explore some more. We went down to a market on the main plaza, called the Comedie, and looked around a bit. Since it was lunchtime, we bought a quiche and a croque for lunch and ate them on the steps of the Eglise St. Roch across from our favorite trompe l’oeil.
After lunch we set out to try to find a Carrefour, which is the same brand of supermarket at which we shopped in Paris. We walked for half an hour or so, having to work to skirt the construction mess at the beginning. We passed a Lidl, but soldiered on a while longer. We found a Picard, but weren’t in the market for frozen foods at the time. We needed basics like cereal, cheese, lunch meat, napkins, hangers, and other stuff. We finally got to a fairly large-looking Casino, another brand of grocery store, so we entered there and bought most of what was on our list. Carrefour must be even farther out, in which case we are not interested in shopping there. Partway home, we took a different route which avoided much of the construction. We got home and I finished up some work I needed to do for wrapping up my practice, then left to go to the internet café down the street to print it up.
We went back out around 5:00 or so and wandered back down to the Comedie and then toward Place Charles de Gaulle, which is a modest-sized park with a promenade in the center of it. As we moved down the promenade, we discovered booths setting up, some with food, others with arts and crafts type items. There were signs for “Estival Montpellier,” and we realized that we had hit upon the perfect way to end our day – eating local foods and enjoying a festival! Most of the booths were just setting up and many of them appeared not to be ready to serve food yet, so we decided to go back to the apartment and relax a bit before returning to the festival. On the way out, we picked up some literature on the festival and I read it at the apartment. I noticed a concert at Notre Dame des Tables starting at 9:00, featuring Les Drôlle de Dames (The Funny Ladies) and decided this would close out our night.
When we returned to the festival ground, the crowds had picked up considerably. We checked out all the food booths then made our determination as to what to eat. I chose a Japanese salmon and vegetable patty which was okay, and Roger started with an assortment of five tartlets, flavored variously in beef, three cheeses, and lamb. He skipped the spinach one. Later he got a pork sandwich, and I had some beignet-like balls covered with Nutella. Yum! There was lots of wine available, of course, and the purchase of wine got the buyer a free glass printed or etched with “Estival Montpellier,” but we passed.
We moved on to the various craft booths and I hit upon one I couldn’t pass up. A woman was selling fruit-infused vinegars. She gave me a taste of a couple of them and they were quite good. I could imagine using them to make salads, so I bought a set of five in various flavors.
It was time to move on to the concert by this time. We had little trouble finding the church, and we entered and sat down with an audience which ultimately numbered close to 200. At the appointed hour, a priest rose and made a brief introduction, then three lovely ladies came out. One was a harpist, the other two a soprano and a mezzosoprano. The singers sang various songs, mostly as duets, accompanied by the harpist. The harpist played about three solos, and each of the singers sang two or three solos. Each piece was brief – only a couple or three minutes long. There were five different pieces entitled “Ave Maria,” one of which is quite familiar in the U.S. We were able to be ignorant in four languages in the space of one hour – they sang in Latin, French, Italian and German! Overall it was quite enjoyable. Lately I have been reading Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad, and it clearly affected my appreciation of the concert. I remember having a thought that the soprano, who was quite slender and wore a strapless dress, had better not empty her lungs entirely of breath or there would be nothing left to hold the dress up. I had a couple of other irreverent thoughts along the same line, mostly having to do with the church itself. One of the surprises of the concert to this Southern U.S. Protestant-raised woman – although a priest both opened and closed the program, he did not offer up a prayer. We were mystified by the misicians' name - there was nothing remotely droll about these dames!
I was the one chosen to go out and get breakfast, so I bought a pain au raisin for Roger, a pain au chocolate for me, and a pain au lait for the two of us to split. We made tea and had a delicious breakfast.
I did some laundry this morning, learning the joys of yet another French washing machine. Roger spent much of the morning working on leveling the stove (there is no little screw-down leveling leg) and exploring the contents of various boxes of tools, painting implements, tiling trowels and other miscellany.
We determined that we need not stay all day at the apartment, so we left late in the morning to explore some more. We went down to a market on the main plaza, called the Comedie, and looked around a bit. Since it was lunchtime, we bought a quiche and a croque for lunch and ate them on the steps of the Eglise St. Roch across from our favorite trompe l’oeil.
After lunch we set out to try to find a Carrefour, which is the same brand of supermarket at which we shopped in Paris. We walked for half an hour or so, having to work to skirt the construction mess at the beginning. We passed a Lidl, but soldiered on a while longer. We found a Picard, but weren’t in the market for frozen foods at the time. We needed basics like cereal, cheese, lunch meat, napkins, hangers, and other stuff. We finally got to a fairly large-looking Casino, another brand of grocery store, so we entered there and bought most of what was on our list. Carrefour must be even farther out, in which case we are not interested in shopping there. Partway home, we took a different route which avoided much of the construction. We got home and I finished up some work I needed to do for wrapping up my practice, then left to go to the internet café down the street to print it up.
We went back out around 5:00 or so and wandered back down to the Comedie and then toward Place Charles de Gaulle, which is a modest-sized park with a promenade in the center of it. As we moved down the promenade, we discovered booths setting up, some with food, others with arts and crafts type items. There were signs for “Estival Montpellier,” and we realized that we had hit upon the perfect way to end our day – eating local foods and enjoying a festival! Most of the booths were just setting up and many of them appeared not to be ready to serve food yet, so we decided to go back to the apartment and relax a bit before returning to the festival. On the way out, we picked up some literature on the festival and I read it at the apartment. I noticed a concert at Notre Dame des Tables starting at 9:00, featuring Les Drôlle de Dames (The Funny Ladies) and decided this would close out our night.
When we returned to the festival ground, the crowds had picked up considerably. We checked out all the food booths then made our determination as to what to eat. I chose a Japanese salmon and vegetable patty which was okay, and Roger started with an assortment of five tartlets, flavored variously in beef, three cheeses, and lamb. He skipped the spinach one. Later he got a pork sandwich, and I had some beignet-like balls covered with Nutella. Yum! There was lots of wine available, of course, and the purchase of wine got the buyer a free glass printed or etched with “Estival Montpellier,” but we passed.
We moved on to the various craft booths and I hit upon one I couldn’t pass up. A woman was selling fruit-infused vinegars. She gave me a taste of a couple of them and they were quite good. I could imagine using them to make salads, so I bought a set of five in various flavors.
It was time to move on to the concert by this time. We had little trouble finding the church, and we entered and sat down with an audience which ultimately numbered close to 200. At the appointed hour, a priest rose and made a brief introduction, then three lovely ladies came out. One was a harpist, the other two a soprano and a mezzosoprano. The singers sang various songs, mostly as duets, accompanied by the harpist. The harpist played about three solos, and each of the singers sang two or three solos. Each piece was brief – only a couple or three minutes long. There were five different pieces entitled “Ave Maria,” one of which is quite familiar in the U.S. We were able to be ignorant in four languages in the space of one hour – they sang in Latin, French, Italian and German! Overall it was quite enjoyable. Lately I have been reading Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad, and it clearly affected my appreciation of the concert. I remember having a thought that the soprano, who was quite slender and wore a strapless dress, had better not empty her lungs entirely of breath or there would be nothing left to hold the dress up. I had a couple of other irreverent thoughts along the same line, mostly having to do with the church itself. One of the surprises of the concert to this Southern U.S. Protestant-raised woman – although a priest both opened and closed the program, he did not offer up a prayer. We were mystified by the misicians' name - there was nothing remotely droll about these dames!
No internet - bummer
Thursday, September 2, 2010 Day 64
We slept late and Roger went around the corner to a boulangerie for some breakfast pastries. English breakfast tea completed a delicious breakfast.
About 9:00, Mme. McGregor knocked on the door, with one of the airshaft workers behind her. She explained that he needed to check our pipes, and that someone would need to be in the apartment all day until 4:00 today and tomorrow to let the workers in should they need to check the pipes some more. We agreed that someone would be here all day – not how we wanted to spend our first couple of days in Montpellier! A bit later, the worker knocked again and told us that we could not run either the water nor the toilet until 4:00. Ack! Certainly not how we wanted to spend our first day in Montpellier! But we quickly toileted and put a basin in the kitchen sink so we could run water there. I volunteered to go out for an hour or so to explore, as I couldn’t bear to be cooped up in the apartment all day. Roger promised he would call Francis about the internet while I was gone. I located the local branch of HSBC and inquired about a “distributeur.” Amazingly enough, there is none in Montpellier! The clerk told me we would have to use the ATM at the post office. From there I wandered around looking at shops and trying to get my bearings, then headed for the halle, which is similar to a farmer’s market. I bought some strawberries and tomatoes from a vendor and made a friend of him when he asked if I was here on vacation. We discussed in his poor English and my equally poor French that I had moved here yesterday, and that I would return in the future to buy more from him. I also bought a couple of mysterious tarts and 200 grams of a ham and cheese casserole-looking thing for lunch from a charcuterie and returned to the apartment about 11:30. Roger said Francis was due to come around 2:00, so we settled into lunch. The casserole was pretty good. The tarts were seafood tarts and, while probably pretty good, not particularly to our taste. The strawberries were wonderful.
At 2:00, Francis buzzed from below and we let him up and into the apartment. He introduced himself and we began to discuss the internet issue. He tried a bit of everything, with no success. He said he had arranged for France Telecom (aka Orange) to call at 3:00 to test the line, but the appointed hour came and went with no call. He tried to call Orange, but only got a recording saying that they were too busy with other callers and could not take calls now(!). Finally he gave up, saying he would contact us later when he could arrange things with Orange. He sent us an email (at least we can check that on the cell phone!) and let us know that Orange will be calling us between 2:00 and 4:00 Saturday. Sigh! Another day of being tied to the apartment! And without internet!
After Francis left, we went out for a while to reacquaint ourselves with the city we visited last fall for three days. The streets were full of students, as this is a college town and it is our impression that the term just got underway. We wanted to go to Monoprix for some groceries, but when we entered, we saw that all the check-out lines were ten or so deep, so we changed our minds. There is nothing that we need that desperately. We bought a rotisserie chicken for dinner and returned home. It was not until I began to prepare dinner that I discovered a major issue in the kitchen – the gas stove lists a good deal to starboard, such that the oil in the pan in which I was frying the potatoes only covered two-thirds or so of the bottom of the pan. I had to continually rotate the pan to get the potatoes to fry fairly evenly. It was a good thing that the rest of the meal is an already-cooked chicken and a salad which needed no cooking and, of course, a glass of wine.
We slept late and Roger went around the corner to a boulangerie for some breakfast pastries. English breakfast tea completed a delicious breakfast.
About 9:00, Mme. McGregor knocked on the door, with one of the airshaft workers behind her. She explained that he needed to check our pipes, and that someone would need to be in the apartment all day until 4:00 today and tomorrow to let the workers in should they need to check the pipes some more. We agreed that someone would be here all day – not how we wanted to spend our first couple of days in Montpellier! A bit later, the worker knocked again and told us that we could not run either the water nor the toilet until 4:00. Ack! Certainly not how we wanted to spend our first day in Montpellier! But we quickly toileted and put a basin in the kitchen sink so we could run water there. I volunteered to go out for an hour or so to explore, as I couldn’t bear to be cooped up in the apartment all day. Roger promised he would call Francis about the internet while I was gone. I located the local branch of HSBC and inquired about a “distributeur.” Amazingly enough, there is none in Montpellier! The clerk told me we would have to use the ATM at the post office. From there I wandered around looking at shops and trying to get my bearings, then headed for the halle, which is similar to a farmer’s market. I bought some strawberries and tomatoes from a vendor and made a friend of him when he asked if I was here on vacation. We discussed in his poor English and my equally poor French that I had moved here yesterday, and that I would return in the future to buy more from him. I also bought a couple of mysterious tarts and 200 grams of a ham and cheese casserole-looking thing for lunch from a charcuterie and returned to the apartment about 11:30. Roger said Francis was due to come around 2:00, so we settled into lunch. The casserole was pretty good. The tarts were seafood tarts and, while probably pretty good, not particularly to our taste. The strawberries were wonderful.
At 2:00, Francis buzzed from below and we let him up and into the apartment. He introduced himself and we began to discuss the internet issue. He tried a bit of everything, with no success. He said he had arranged for France Telecom (aka Orange) to call at 3:00 to test the line, but the appointed hour came and went with no call. He tried to call Orange, but only got a recording saying that they were too busy with other callers and could not take calls now(!). Finally he gave up, saying he would contact us later when he could arrange things with Orange. He sent us an email (at least we can check that on the cell phone!) and let us know that Orange will be calling us between 2:00 and 4:00 Saturday. Sigh! Another day of being tied to the apartment! And without internet!
After Francis left, we went out for a while to reacquaint ourselves with the city we visited last fall for three days. The streets were full of students, as this is a college town and it is our impression that the term just got underway. We wanted to go to Monoprix for some groceries, but when we entered, we saw that all the check-out lines were ten or so deep, so we changed our minds. There is nothing that we need that desperately. We bought a rotisserie chicken for dinner and returned home. It was not until I began to prepare dinner that I discovered a major issue in the kitchen – the gas stove lists a good deal to starboard, such that the oil in the pan in which I was frying the potatoes only covered two-thirds or so of the bottom of the pan. I had to continually rotate the pan to get the potatoes to fry fairly evenly. It was a good thing that the rest of the meal is an already-cooked chicken and a salad which needed no cooking and, of course, a glass of wine.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Goodbye Paris, hello Montpellier
Wednesday, September 1, 2010 Day 63
Roger made a reservation yesterday for a taxi to take us to Gare de Lyon – we had too much luggage to manage the trip on the subway. He specifically requested a large taxi, explaining that there will be two passengers and eight pieces of luggage. At a few minutes before the appointed hour of 9:00, we received a call from the taxi company saying that there as a problem with the taxi, and that he would call us back. We tucked the final things into our luggage and Roger took the bags downstairs, while I hung out the window looking for the taxi to come. At 9:15, Roger turned off the gas and electricity, we made sure the refrigerator was open, I closed the shutter and we went downstairs to await the taxi. I called the taxi service, who told me that the taxi was on its way and would be at our apartment in 4 minutes. Six minutes later I called him again, and he insisted that it was only 2-3 minutes away. Of course, our anxiety levels were rising during this wait, but the taxi dispatcher assured me that we would make our 10:20 train in plenty of time. Finally a huge box-shaped vehicle pulled up and we loaded up. On the way he explained that we had asked for too large a taxi – that there are three sizes of taxi in Paris, small, “bric,” and grand, which is what we got. And because he had to come from outer Slobovia, there was already a charge of 25€ on the meter. Sigh. We knew there would be a charge from the time the taxi left to pick us up, but we didn’t expect this much. But it was because they sent such a large taxi, and there are few of them available.
When we got to the station, the driver emerged and opened the back to begin unloading the luggage. Almost immediately a guy showed up with a cart, and began placing the luggage on it. Brilliant! This was going to be a lifesaver, whatever the cost, as we were going to have serious trouble getting all our luggage to the train, particularly since we were now running well behind the time we had wanted to arrive at the station – indeed, it was a couple of minutes short of 10:00 when we pulled up at the station. Roger paid the taxi driver and began to pull one of the two bags which hadn’t fit on the cart. I had the other one. As we approached the station, another guy, this one in a black sweater with an orange armband reading “Security” on it approached and insisted on taking over the cart. The other guy protested, and continued to walk alongside Mr. Security, protesting some more, but the latter said something to him and refused to relinquish the cart. I fished a couple of Euros out of my purse and gave them to the first guy, who I think got rather cheated in the deal, but . . . c’est la vie! Mr. Security pushed the cart all the way around to the train, offloaded the luggage onto the floor of the entry to the train, and left. Roger offered him a tip (it was worth every bit of ten Euros for the assistance) but he waved it off!!
Once we got our luggage onboard, the trip to Montpellier was uneventful. There was ample room for our luggage on the train, and we settled in for the two-and-one-half hour ride south. Montpellier was the end of the line for this particular train, so we knew we would have sufficient time to get our luggage unloaded. When we arrived, we were delighted to discover that the Montpellier gare has modern conveniences galore – both escalators and elevators! We located the taxi area and I moved the luggage closer to the taxi exit while Roger went to find some sandwiches and drinks. I had my first cola drink since arriving in France. That’s a record and then some! After eating, we started carting our luggage outside. I approached the only taxi in line, but it was empty. A moment later a gentleman approached me from the bar attached to the station and asked me if I needed a taxi. When I told him where I needed to go, he suggested that I just walk, as it is on only a 5-minute walk. I indicated that I knew that, but that we have eight pieces of luggage. He turned and looked at where Roger was bringing out the last of the suitcases and his eyes sort of popped! He opened the hatchback and eyeballed the luggage and the floor of the car. He put two of the pieces in, then turned to Roger while I was dealing with some of the other luggage, and made a suggestion. Roger agreed, and the guy put the back seat down and began loading in the rest of the luggage. Roger explained to me that I would ride in the front with the luggage, and he would walk! I think it should have been the other way around, but that is the way we settled on things. The driver gave Roger some general instructions, and we had looked at the map, and we were here last fall, so Roger felt reasonably comfortable in walking to the apartment.
Montpellier, like Reims, is giving birth to a tram line and the city is full of construction. Unfortunately it is full of traffic as well. Very full. Extremely full. It took us roughly 20 minutes to drive the 5-minute walk, with stop and go traffic the whole way. Near the end, when the driver pulled onto our street, he entered a lane for buses and taxis only, which is what runs in front of our apartment. It is a single lane, and it runs between the curb and two lanes of oncoming traffic, all of which is stop and go, mostly the former. When he located our apartment, he was forced to just stop in the middle of the street, blocking the entire lane, with a bus right behind us! The driver hopped out and began offloading our luggage to the high curb. He announced the cost at 25€ and I paid him, tipped him and he scurried off. The bus driver never honked – clearly there was nothing else the taxi driver could have done, and the bus driver was very patient. The cost was quite high for us – it should have been about 10€ plus another 8 for the luggage, but it was fair for the taxi driver, who had, indeed, spent all of the 20 minutes driving (or waiting, more often than not), and had not taken me out of the way at all to drive up the cost. It is the passengers in this case who are paying the price for the construction in a long and costly taxi ride.
All that being said, when I got to the apartment building, there was our name on one of the buttons. I buzzed and the door opened. Roger was in the street a few doors down, and was really grateful to see me – he had gotten lost twice and then couldn’t find the apartment number above the door. He came back down the street, picked up two pieces of luggage and started into the building and up the stairs. I took in two more and went back for more, fearful of leaving it standing on the curb for more than a moment or two. We were greeted in the entry by a real mess – dust and dirt everywhere, and two guys in dust masks doing some work in an airshaft. When they saw my dilemma, one of them came out to the curb with me to get the last of the luggage in, and the other one grabbed two suitcases and followed Roger up the stairs. The second guy then took two other large suitcases and I was left with a couple of smaller ones to bring up the rear. Our apartment is up three flights with no elevator (something we already knew), and we were exhausted when we got to the top. The guys were coming back down, and they both refused a tip. We were really grateful for their help! We seemed to have lucked out in the handle-the-luggage-for-no-fee department today.
As we entered the apartment to greet our landlord and landlady, the Stevensons, they suggested first that we take off our shoes, otherwise the apartment would need vacuuming very quickly, since the trip upstairs through all the dust and dirt had gotten our feet very dusty. The Mrs. Stevenson offered us a welcome glass of water, and we made introductions all around. They showed us the particularities of the apartment, and were off in less than an hour.
Half an hour after they left, there was a knock on the door and Mara McGregor, the woman from one floor down, introduced herself. She wanted to know if the Stevensons had already gone, because she wanted to talk to Elliott about something or other. She is a French lady who married a Scotsman (now deceased) and who speaks very good English. She said to be sure and let her know if we need anything.
Our apartment is rather shabby – it reminds me of the place where I grew up. It is full of cheap and amateurish work-arounds for many of the problems that invariably arise in a European apartment. The walls are not plumb, nor is the floor, which slopes just slightly to the south. There are unfinished tile areas, plenty of things that don’t fit up correctly, mismatched closet doors or none at all, covered by a curtain; the salle de bain (room with bathtub but no toilet) is in the inside of the apartment, with no ventilation, so there are two small openings cut in two opposite walls, which have then been fitted with small window blinds, and this serves to ventilate the room; the covers for the electricity and gas meters are small half-boxes which lift away from the controls; there are only indoor shutters, not outside ones, which do not fit together properly but which do manage to block the afternoon sun pretty well. The whole place needs to be gutted and redone, but at the same time it is livable. There are bright spots as well – an unusable but very pretty fireplace with marble mantle (unfortunately dulled the surface of the marble by using the wrong cleaning product – I am going to look into fixing that later). The largest issue for us is that there is no internet. The landlord and landlady sort of said “well, it was working last week – good luck – call Francis, here is his number,” and dashed out.
We settled in somewhat, unpacked a few suitcases and explored the apartment in more detail to inventory the food, dishes, things in the storage closet, cleaning products under the sink, and began a list of what we would need in the way of groceries. The refrigerator is quite small – it comes up to about my shoulder. Much of the main shelf is taken up with a 3-litre box of cabernet sauvignon, which we will have to deal with before buying much in the way of perishables. I was not under the impression that cabernet sauvignon was to be refrigerated, but that shows how much I do not know about wine. I located some sugared honey in the cabinet and began to set that straight. That seems to be my mission in life – to de-sugar everyone’s honey!
The next-largest issue, and one which is going to be harder to fix, is the so-called shower. It consists of a tub with a hand-held shower head, but there is no place to hang the shower head to turn it into a shower, and even if there were, the hose for the connection is too short. This is going to take some work.
The apartment is cheerful despite its shabbiness. There is a brand new television, which the landlord said was not even properly set up yet (they left that for us to do as well!). I am not sure when or if we will bother, although I was thinking about trying to find a weekly series of some sort to watch to try to improve my French. The tile floor looks fairly new. Whoever installed it chose to lay the tiles on a diagonal – probably a very good choice as it serves to disguise the uneven walls. Unfortunately there is one broken tile in one of the main paths, from the living area to the bedroom. There is a lovely curved mirror over the fireplace. There was a parched, almost-dead ivy on one of the windows overlooking the street, so I took it in and began to try to revive it. I probably should toss it and start over, but it is the only growing thing I have right now, and I don’t know exactly when or where I will get more.
After we relaxed a bit, we set out to find some dinner and explore the area a bit. We ate at a place called La Tomate, which, while much cheaper than Paris, was disappointing. We had a tomato-based fish soup which had very little flavor – not of fish, or tomatoes, or much of anything else. Then Roger had steak and I had a couple of roasted quail with a tomato sauce. Roger says he doesn’t think the French know how to cook steak. My quail were okay, but not particularly tasty. Both were served with fried potatoes and some tired-looking green beans, which turned out to be nicely seasoned and quite tasty. I bailed on dessert while Roger had a tart with a scoop of ice cream. Afterward we walked to the local grocery store for some milk, then went home, made our double bed and fell asleep.
Roger made a reservation yesterday for a taxi to take us to Gare de Lyon – we had too much luggage to manage the trip on the subway. He specifically requested a large taxi, explaining that there will be two passengers and eight pieces of luggage. At a few minutes before the appointed hour of 9:00, we received a call from the taxi company saying that there as a problem with the taxi, and that he would call us back. We tucked the final things into our luggage and Roger took the bags downstairs, while I hung out the window looking for the taxi to come. At 9:15, Roger turned off the gas and electricity, we made sure the refrigerator was open, I closed the shutter and we went downstairs to await the taxi. I called the taxi service, who told me that the taxi was on its way and would be at our apartment in 4 minutes. Six minutes later I called him again, and he insisted that it was only 2-3 minutes away. Of course, our anxiety levels were rising during this wait, but the taxi dispatcher assured me that we would make our 10:20 train in plenty of time. Finally a huge box-shaped vehicle pulled up and we loaded up. On the way he explained that we had asked for too large a taxi – that there are three sizes of taxi in Paris, small, “bric,” and grand, which is what we got. And because he had to come from outer Slobovia, there was already a charge of 25€ on the meter. Sigh. We knew there would be a charge from the time the taxi left to pick us up, but we didn’t expect this much. But it was because they sent such a large taxi, and there are few of them available.
When we got to the station, the driver emerged and opened the back to begin unloading the luggage. Almost immediately a guy showed up with a cart, and began placing the luggage on it. Brilliant! This was going to be a lifesaver, whatever the cost, as we were going to have serious trouble getting all our luggage to the train, particularly since we were now running well behind the time we had wanted to arrive at the station – indeed, it was a couple of minutes short of 10:00 when we pulled up at the station. Roger paid the taxi driver and began to pull one of the two bags which hadn’t fit on the cart. I had the other one. As we approached the station, another guy, this one in a black sweater with an orange armband reading “Security” on it approached and insisted on taking over the cart. The other guy protested, and continued to walk alongside Mr. Security, protesting some more, but the latter said something to him and refused to relinquish the cart. I fished a couple of Euros out of my purse and gave them to the first guy, who I think got rather cheated in the deal, but . . . c’est la vie! Mr. Security pushed the cart all the way around to the train, offloaded the luggage onto the floor of the entry to the train, and left. Roger offered him a tip (it was worth every bit of ten Euros for the assistance) but he waved it off!!
Once we got our luggage onboard, the trip to Montpellier was uneventful. There was ample room for our luggage on the train, and we settled in for the two-and-one-half hour ride south. Montpellier was the end of the line for this particular train, so we knew we would have sufficient time to get our luggage unloaded. When we arrived, we were delighted to discover that the Montpellier gare has modern conveniences galore – both escalators and elevators! We located the taxi area and I moved the luggage closer to the taxi exit while Roger went to find some sandwiches and drinks. I had my first cola drink since arriving in France. That’s a record and then some! After eating, we started carting our luggage outside. I approached the only taxi in line, but it was empty. A moment later a gentleman approached me from the bar attached to the station and asked me if I needed a taxi. When I told him where I needed to go, he suggested that I just walk, as it is on only a 5-minute walk. I indicated that I knew that, but that we have eight pieces of luggage. He turned and looked at where Roger was bringing out the last of the suitcases and his eyes sort of popped! He opened the hatchback and eyeballed the luggage and the floor of the car. He put two of the pieces in, then turned to Roger while I was dealing with some of the other luggage, and made a suggestion. Roger agreed, and the guy put the back seat down and began loading in the rest of the luggage. Roger explained to me that I would ride in the front with the luggage, and he would walk! I think it should have been the other way around, but that is the way we settled on things. The driver gave Roger some general instructions, and we had looked at the map, and we were here last fall, so Roger felt reasonably comfortable in walking to the apartment.
Montpellier, like Reims, is giving birth to a tram line and the city is full of construction. Unfortunately it is full of traffic as well. Very full. Extremely full. It took us roughly 20 minutes to drive the 5-minute walk, with stop and go traffic the whole way. Near the end, when the driver pulled onto our street, he entered a lane for buses and taxis only, which is what runs in front of our apartment. It is a single lane, and it runs between the curb and two lanes of oncoming traffic, all of which is stop and go, mostly the former. When he located our apartment, he was forced to just stop in the middle of the street, blocking the entire lane, with a bus right behind us! The driver hopped out and began offloading our luggage to the high curb. He announced the cost at 25€ and I paid him, tipped him and he scurried off. The bus driver never honked – clearly there was nothing else the taxi driver could have done, and the bus driver was very patient. The cost was quite high for us – it should have been about 10€ plus another 8 for the luggage, but it was fair for the taxi driver, who had, indeed, spent all of the 20 minutes driving (or waiting, more often than not), and had not taken me out of the way at all to drive up the cost. It is the passengers in this case who are paying the price for the construction in a long and costly taxi ride.
All that being said, when I got to the apartment building, there was our name on one of the buttons. I buzzed and the door opened. Roger was in the street a few doors down, and was really grateful to see me – he had gotten lost twice and then couldn’t find the apartment number above the door. He came back down the street, picked up two pieces of luggage and started into the building and up the stairs. I took in two more and went back for more, fearful of leaving it standing on the curb for more than a moment or two. We were greeted in the entry by a real mess – dust and dirt everywhere, and two guys in dust masks doing some work in an airshaft. When they saw my dilemma, one of them came out to the curb with me to get the last of the luggage in, and the other one grabbed two suitcases and followed Roger up the stairs. The second guy then took two other large suitcases and I was left with a couple of smaller ones to bring up the rear. Our apartment is up three flights with no elevator (something we already knew), and we were exhausted when we got to the top. The guys were coming back down, and they both refused a tip. We were really grateful for their help! We seemed to have lucked out in the handle-the-luggage-for-no-fee department today.
As we entered the apartment to greet our landlord and landlady, the Stevensons, they suggested first that we take off our shoes, otherwise the apartment would need vacuuming very quickly, since the trip upstairs through all the dust and dirt had gotten our feet very dusty. The Mrs. Stevenson offered us a welcome glass of water, and we made introductions all around. They showed us the particularities of the apartment, and were off in less than an hour.
Half an hour after they left, there was a knock on the door and Mara McGregor, the woman from one floor down, introduced herself. She wanted to know if the Stevensons had already gone, because she wanted to talk to Elliott about something or other. She is a French lady who married a Scotsman (now deceased) and who speaks very good English. She said to be sure and let her know if we need anything.
Our apartment is rather shabby – it reminds me of the place where I grew up. It is full of cheap and amateurish work-arounds for many of the problems that invariably arise in a European apartment. The walls are not plumb, nor is the floor, which slopes just slightly to the south. There are unfinished tile areas, plenty of things that don’t fit up correctly, mismatched closet doors or none at all, covered by a curtain; the salle de bain (room with bathtub but no toilet) is in the inside of the apartment, with no ventilation, so there are two small openings cut in two opposite walls, which have then been fitted with small window blinds, and this serves to ventilate the room; the covers for the electricity and gas meters are small half-boxes which lift away from the controls; there are only indoor shutters, not outside ones, which do not fit together properly but which do manage to block the afternoon sun pretty well. The whole place needs to be gutted and redone, but at the same time it is livable. There are bright spots as well – an unusable but very pretty fireplace with marble mantle (unfortunately dulled the surface of the marble by using the wrong cleaning product – I am going to look into fixing that later). The largest issue for us is that there is no internet. The landlord and landlady sort of said “well, it was working last week – good luck – call Francis, here is his number,” and dashed out.
We settled in somewhat, unpacked a few suitcases and explored the apartment in more detail to inventory the food, dishes, things in the storage closet, cleaning products under the sink, and began a list of what we would need in the way of groceries. The refrigerator is quite small – it comes up to about my shoulder. Much of the main shelf is taken up with a 3-litre box of cabernet sauvignon, which we will have to deal with before buying much in the way of perishables. I was not under the impression that cabernet sauvignon was to be refrigerated, but that shows how much I do not know about wine. I located some sugared honey in the cabinet and began to set that straight. That seems to be my mission in life – to de-sugar everyone’s honey!
The next-largest issue, and one which is going to be harder to fix, is the so-called shower. It consists of a tub with a hand-held shower head, but there is no place to hang the shower head to turn it into a shower, and even if there were, the hose for the connection is too short. This is going to take some work.
The apartment is cheerful despite its shabbiness. There is a brand new television, which the landlord said was not even properly set up yet (they left that for us to do as well!). I am not sure when or if we will bother, although I was thinking about trying to find a weekly series of some sort to watch to try to improve my French. The tile floor looks fairly new. Whoever installed it chose to lay the tiles on a diagonal – probably a very good choice as it serves to disguise the uneven walls. Unfortunately there is one broken tile in one of the main paths, from the living area to the bedroom. There is a lovely curved mirror over the fireplace. There was a parched, almost-dead ivy on one of the windows overlooking the street, so I took it in and began to try to revive it. I probably should toss it and start over, but it is the only growing thing I have right now, and I don’t know exactly when or where I will get more.
After we relaxed a bit, we set out to find some dinner and explore the area a bit. We ate at a place called La Tomate, which, while much cheaper than Paris, was disappointing. We had a tomato-based fish soup which had very little flavor – not of fish, or tomatoes, or much of anything else. Then Roger had steak and I had a couple of roasted quail with a tomato sauce. Roger says he doesn’t think the French know how to cook steak. My quail were okay, but not particularly tasty. Both were served with fried potatoes and some tired-looking green beans, which turned out to be nicely seasoned and quite tasty. I bailed on dessert while Roger had a tart with a scoop of ice cream. Afterward we walked to the local grocery store for some milk, then went home, made our double bed and fell asleep.
31-8-2010
This bronze statue stood outside the restaurant at which we ate on our last night in Paris - Le Grand Pan. I am not sure what it is supposed to represent - two guys holding up a third fellow, who looks as if he is holding an American football; or is that a melon? And where does that hat come into play? Hm. . .
Last day in Paris
Tuesday, August 31, 2010 Day 62
Our last day in Paris! We spent the morning polishing the apartment. We weren’t sure how clean the landlady expected the place to be, but I wanted to leave it respectable, so we worked hard scrubbing the shower and floors and cleaning out the refrigerator.
Roger also calculated the utilities. The landlady had told us a couple of times that “it’s complex” when she talked about calculating the electricity and gas. Little did we know! First, at the behest of the landlady, Roger had written down the meter readings the day we moved in, but he only wrote down the last three digits. For the electricity, that was fine, but for the gas, the last three digits are only the decimal places. He didn’t realize it at the time, and kept struggling and couldn’t come up with a reasonable number. When he finally discovered his error, he finally was able to calculate the amount of gas and electricity used. It turns out that the meters are only read twice a year in Paris. Customers are only billed every two months. The landlady sent us the June bill, which showed the May reading. From that he had to extrapolate the June reading then had to calculate our use, then add an amount for the fixed fee for each month, then add the VAT (value added tax) on the amount used. Okay! But he finally got it done to his satisfaction, and our total utilities (gas and electric) for two months came to almost 92€. We rounded up, as we are staying tonight so that we can catch our 10:20 train down to Montpellier tomorrow.
When the landlady and landlord showed up, they came to discuss the utilities and to refund us our deposit. We got back the entire 500€ without any deductions from them, except, of course the utilities. They accepted Roger’s calculation of the utilities without question or verification of the meter readings or of his calculations, but we sent them the spreadsheet later. Our landlords are interesting – he is the stereotypical academic type, quiet, a little stooped, studious-looking, dressed in a less-than-fastidious manner. He is a professor and a specialist in Japanese religion and thought. He let her do all the talking – I don’t think he speaks very much English. She, on the other hand, is not the typical spouse for him; she is Japanese. She speaks quite tolerable English, although with a rather heavy accent. She is spiffily-dressed and is perfectly coiffed. She is a research worker in the field of “history of ideas, particularly medical thought, concerning Japan.” They have been the ideal landlords – not in our hair at all, but available by email if we needed them.
We spent our last evening in Paris at a restaurant around the corner. The meal was very unusual for a Paris meal – not particularly good. We ordered a pork rib plate for two. The pork was extremely fatty and with almost no flavor. I didn’t eat my share, and even Roger left slices that were mostly fat. It was served with fries and a salad, and the latter was quite good; the fries were very ordinary. We had dessert – Roger had a panna cotta, which is sort of a gelatinized cream with chocolate added, and it came with a small slice of cake with chocolate chips in it. I had warmed mirabelles, which are small late-summer plums, with whipped cream on top. They were quite good. We shared 50cl of wine, which is double what we normally get. We staggered home about 9:30.
Our last day in Paris! We spent the morning polishing the apartment. We weren’t sure how clean the landlady expected the place to be, but I wanted to leave it respectable, so we worked hard scrubbing the shower and floors and cleaning out the refrigerator.
Roger also calculated the utilities. The landlady had told us a couple of times that “it’s complex” when she talked about calculating the electricity and gas. Little did we know! First, at the behest of the landlady, Roger had written down the meter readings the day we moved in, but he only wrote down the last three digits. For the electricity, that was fine, but for the gas, the last three digits are only the decimal places. He didn’t realize it at the time, and kept struggling and couldn’t come up with a reasonable number. When he finally discovered his error, he finally was able to calculate the amount of gas and electricity used. It turns out that the meters are only read twice a year in Paris. Customers are only billed every two months. The landlady sent us the June bill, which showed the May reading. From that he had to extrapolate the June reading then had to calculate our use, then add an amount for the fixed fee for each month, then add the VAT (value added tax) on the amount used. Okay! But he finally got it done to his satisfaction, and our total utilities (gas and electric) for two months came to almost 92€. We rounded up, as we are staying tonight so that we can catch our 10:20 train down to Montpellier tomorrow.
When the landlady and landlord showed up, they came to discuss the utilities and to refund us our deposit. We got back the entire 500€ without any deductions from them, except, of course the utilities. They accepted Roger’s calculation of the utilities without question or verification of the meter readings or of his calculations, but we sent them the spreadsheet later. Our landlords are interesting – he is the stereotypical academic type, quiet, a little stooped, studious-looking, dressed in a less-than-fastidious manner. He is a professor and a specialist in Japanese religion and thought. He let her do all the talking – I don’t think he speaks very much English. She, on the other hand, is not the typical spouse for him; she is Japanese. She speaks quite tolerable English, although with a rather heavy accent. She is spiffily-dressed and is perfectly coiffed. She is a research worker in the field of “history of ideas, particularly medical thought, concerning Japan.” They have been the ideal landlords – not in our hair at all, but available by email if we needed them.
We spent our last evening in Paris at a restaurant around the corner. The meal was very unusual for a Paris meal – not particularly good. We ordered a pork rib plate for two. The pork was extremely fatty and with almost no flavor. I didn’t eat my share, and even Roger left slices that were mostly fat. It was served with fries and a salad, and the latter was quite good; the fries were very ordinary. We had dessert – Roger had a panna cotta, which is sort of a gelatinized cream with chocolate added, and it came with a small slice of cake with chocolate chips in it. I had warmed mirabelles, which are small late-summer plums, with whipped cream on top. They were quite good. We shared 50cl of wine, which is double what we normally get. We staggered home about 9:30.
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