Family in Paris for a Day.

Guarding the railings that the kids stood on to watch
the start of the Tour (Cambridge - start to the right)

When living away from home for an extended time, the two things that make it bearable are new experiences as you travel around and visits from friends and family. Our last couple of weeks bought both.

It seemed as if the whole of Cambridge was celebrating the arrival of my beloved Mother and a few days later a van load of cousies who also happen to be cherished friends. In reality the concerts, fireworks and endless bunting were to mark the start of phase three of the 2014 Tour de France. They missed the delights of the Bay City Rollers because of too much talking over dinner - not my fault - I was out at a choir rehearsal!

Willow and Petal's school thoughtfully shifted a training day(teacher only) to the 7th of July so students could head for Parker's Pieces(a park cut through with sealed tracks) to see the cycle roadshow, apparently only beaten in size as a world wide sporting event by the Olympics and the Football World Cup. This gave us all a lovely long weekend to spend together. The sun shone, as the kids balanced on fence rails opposite the start and Jof's mate Hash, who had been bought along on the trip to keep him company, witnessed how truly kookie relatives can be when on mass.

Walking into town to watch the race

Ordering lovely cold drinks in the 'Duke of Cambridge'
after the race. The adults of course still running around
after the 'kids'.

At the starting gates. Cambridge's roads are often congested with cars and bikes but never quite as bad as this.

This French splurge sparked a plan to visit Paris the following weekend. We finally found a place we could book 12 beds under the same roof without spending thousands, sacrificing quaint for convenient. Suite Novotel was right beside the Charles de Gaulle airport and has a free shuttle to the train station connecting the airport to Paris. In the end G found an App that showed him where free weekend parking is so we drove into Av. des Nations Unies and parked for the whole day in sight of the Eiffel Tower. Each room had a double bed, a single and a second single that pulled out from under the double. The pod design of the bathroom meant they had been recently been refurbished and most importantly it had a kettle, microwave and fridge. The breakfast price was a bit steep and didn't come with our cheap rooms so we stopped in at Costco in Watford after dropping Charlie into the Vicarage for his short break and grabbed Croissants (ridiculous to take into France but easier) muesli bars, water bottles and fruit.

Since I had to teach Friday we didn't leave until after school.  The traffic across Dartford bridge ground to a crawl about 6 miles before we could see it and I was very grateful that M had decided to allow 4 hours between end of school and our Chunnel booking instead of the 2.5 it should have taken to get there. We just had time to run into the terminal to grab some tea to take with us and use their facilities before our last call for boarding. On our way through we were directed into the drug test bay with two other vehicles. they swabbed the steering wheel, under the door handles and under the chassis. On the way back we saw a young couple sitting beside their car which had been jacked up and completely emptied - I wonder if they were coming back from Amsterdam. This was Granny's first time through the Chunnel and she agreed that it is amazing to be able to get to France in 35min from England. We wondered how long it would take if there was a tunnel from Sydney to Wellington at 140mph under the Tasman Sea.

The three hour drive between Calais and Paris was frequently punctuated with exclamations from the backseat about windmills, M deciding that the collective noun for them was a turn, chimney pots (I think 'a smoke' or 'a soot' is good for these), steeples and vegetation. Few towns through this area have been left untouched by the World Wars so brick and tile with steeply angled roofs were the common sight over fields of wheat, vegetable crops and lollypop shaped trees.

Stopover at Pierrefonds. 

The Cousies had left London at lunchtime and caught a ferry across. They stopped off at one of Leelee's favourite French places - Pierrefonds. The Castle was closed but they walked the boundry, mainly because Jof had clamboured up to the top if the wall but couldn't find another place to scale down, Leelee and G following close behind to make sure he didn't jump and render his damaged knee apart. It is certainly a much more picturesque place to stay than beside the airport but unfortunately all the hotels were sold out for our dates.

The cousies had beaten us to the hotel by a few hours, the check in chap gave us a room key to the one of the four he thought vacant but when we opened it light flooded over sleeping cousies.  G was up working by the light of his computer screen and thought it was a great laugh. M got the keycard re-scanned and we gratefully fell into bed. The set of 2 double glazed windows and black out blinds kept us asleep until 7:30. What joy not to be woken by bossy blackbirds at 3:30am.

Hash is checking out his first look at E.T.
The rest of us have self satisfied smirks for being able to park so close for free Bravo G!

Is Granny about to start busking ? Watch out - the gypsies will get you for muscling in on their turf.
I really don't think Leelee and I have the dance routine down pat yet.

Tia Chi on the Champ de Mars

With the aim of getting the lads up the Eiffel Tower without hours of queuing we left the hotel as early as we could. The day started in low cloud but the sun soon broke through and we had lovely weather in which to see the sights we had decided upon.  Paris is a city crammed full of galleries, museums, parks and ancient buildings. As a teen I used to snort with derision about the French capitulation to the Nazi offer of unconditional surrender for an occupied but completely intact capital; now I am so very thankful for their decision - considering the fearful fight the resistance put up during the occupation - perhaps it was the braver choice.  There was too much for us to see in the week we had spent last summer so I had a list of my must see left overs; Napoleans's tomb, the top of the Arc de Triomphe and the Impressionists in the Musée d'Orsay that made the cut.

 After leaving G and the lads in a queue we trundled up the Champ de Mars (named after the Campius Martius in Rome as a tribute to the Greek god of war). The French military once drilled and practiced the arts of war in this open space.  It ends at the Ecole Militaire which is a massive building that still houses military offices and training. We joined the throngs of people who looked as if they were doing a repetitive Tai Chi by trying to get shots of themselves holding the Eiffel tower. The girls wanted to get one shaking it as if to shake the lads off but this proved too ambitious for so many hands.

Sparkling gold topping the cupola of
Napoleon's Tomb

Conical towers and wildflowers

We walked through to Les Invalides, the old military hospital and retirement home that now houses a military museum. The grounds were beautiful with little cones and wild flowers, Lali and I both pocketed remembrance pebbles from the paths. It had a special exhibition on the Musketeers but sadly we didn't have time to see if Dumas' D'Artagnan, Arimus, Athos and Porthos were figments of fiction or realistic imaginings.

Because the younger cousies are studying the WWars at school we chose to flow through that display hall before the couronnement (crowning glory) of Napolean's Tomb. As we entered our tickets were scanned (even though under 18s get in free they still had to have a 'child' ticket) and our bags were checked. Tas had a back pack that had been loaded with the couzie's snacks so she won a big smile from the guard and a hearty "Bon Appetite".  The film and photos of the Dunkirk evacuation, D-day and the liberation of the death camps were vivid and uncensored. The collection of posters from UK and US propaganda were interesting. Many of the things soldiers had made from bullets and shell cases while twiddling away time in the trenches were on display but the glass cabinets made them difficult to photograph. Mum was particularly impressed by the small model aeroplanes.

The massive artworks from pre 20thC wars, full of glory and rhetoric, and the dwindling glamour of officer's uniforms over time demonstrated how the industrial revolution had such a huge impact on warfare. Early camouflage suits to stay safe in no man's land look as scary as the huge variety of gas masks on display. Big Bertha was disappointingly small, her proportions did not reflect the devastation that her nimbleness and range caused. In comparison, the a V1 rocket hanging in the stairwell, whose clones did so much damage to London, was much larger than I had imagined.

Big(?)  Bertha

Trench warfare camouflage 

Propagander posters

V2

Motor bike ready for a parachute drop.

 At last we trooped through to the courtyard before the giant gilded doors to the golden dome that used to be Louis XVI Royal Chapel for his retired military. The buildings to care for the bodies and souls of pensioned soldiers were completed quickly but his cupola chapel, with its complex design and decoration was completed long after and not ordained until 1706, 52 years after the Sun King's coronation. In the revolution all religious services ceased and it was renamed the Temple of Victory until Bonapart, as First Counsul, returned its 'sacred' status by converting it to house the sepulchers of military men who had served France with brilliance. The internment of his remains here lead to the name used today for this amazing building.

To my eyes, used to the plastic creations of Lego and Sylvanian Animals, the gigantic brown marble sepulcher that houses the Emperor's coffin was a little disappointing.  It is huge but its bland, shiny brown surface seems to be a blob in the middle of masses of refined decoration and beauty, it somehow didn't seem real. I had to force myself to consider the impression it would have made on the patriots of 1861 when plastic was unknown. The ebony coffin containing Napoleon I, that was repatriated from St Helena in 1840, was finally moved to the completed sepulcher 21yrs later.  It seems fitting that the great man is buried here instead of at St Denis (a church rebuilt and expanded by Abbot Suger, Louis VII friend and adviser, both are buried there along with the guillotined Louis and Marie Antoinette and many other royals).  He ordained that all French Emperors should be buried here. His gift was of strategy, supply administration and military might that resulted in an army that moved faster than any before or after, until mechanical transport. His leadership surpassing those he had awarded honorary burials to in this place; until Waterloo.

Altar - obviously reinstated after the revolution extreme principles had moderated.

Marble mosaics on the floor

Statues guarding Napoleon's Sepulcher

Napoleon's Sepulcher from the entry floor.  Access stairs at the rear, left.

Peering down to the Sepulcher from the entry level.

Waiting on the in front of the gilded doors to work out where to next. The map is coming out!

We walked on to the Musée de Orsay, passing streets hung in tricolours ready for Bastille day later that week. Leelee wanted to go in again and we persuaded the rest of the female contingent that 40mins among brilliance would be no bad thing. We compromised though by agreeing that those who wanted to could go on and meet the lads at the Turellies instead of going to the Musée d'Orangie to see more art with Granny, M and I. (Package deal entry ticket €16 - under 18s free!) Instead of me going on about the masterpieces housed in these buildings have a look at these websites. I must say though there is something magical about seeing them for real.  The size, colours, light, brushstrokes and details always have more impact than reproductions on screen or page.

Neatly piled cherries at a store around
the corner from the Musée

The cloud is lifting as we walk to the Musée

Couple in the Street - Charles Angrand 1887
image from:http://seedmagazine.com
/content/article/the_future_of_science_is_art/P6/

Deillets et Clematites - Edouard Manet 1882
image from: http://bricodeco.jeditoo.com
/jardinage/fleurs.html

After the designated 40mins Granny and I found that we hadn't seen enough so we stayed longer with M as the others left and spent another hour ambling past the works of Sisley, Renoir, Manet, Monet, Degas, Angrand and sooo many more impressionists. In the little store at the end of Gallery 5, I was wrapped to find a print of Manet's 'Deillets et Clematites' which I had seen for the first time and just loved how he'd painted the transparency of the square glass vase. Mum was disappointed not to find one of Angrand's 'Couple in the Street', which even though we found that it had gone to Canberra with the collection we visited a few years ago, we couldn't remember seeing.  His pointillism was so subtle and somehow the painting glowed with domestic peace and longevity. With eyeballs bulging we stopped for lunch in their delightful Café and wondered what the others were up to. We were soon distracted by the Caesar salad, Tomato gazpacho and Beef noodle stir fry that our lovely waiter bought out, accompanied of course by beautiful French bread.

Gallery 5 Cafe - the station clock face to the right.

Walking from Gallery 5 to the exit stairs M found a sneaky gap through which to photograph the station converted into a Museum. Sculptures are displayed where tracks were once laid and behind the arches along each sides where private rooms and restaurants once were are rooms full of priceless art.

 Meanwhile back at the Tuileries (Royal gardens stretching out in front of the Louvre) the couzies picnicked and a plot to ride the spinning arm that spreads screams across the peace of fountains and lavender was born. Hash had not seen the Mona Lisa so a quick dash by the lads into the bowels of the Louvre's glass pyramid righted this gap in his education while the girls lolled around outside. 

Surely they'll be finished soon.

The Louvre - taken from our taxi bike.

Wicked arm to the left of this peaceful scene.

Mum, M and I made our way to de'Orangie and queued to get in, luckily our double pass let us join the short queue! Claude Monet was commissioned to decorate 2 oval rooms at ground level where once Royal citrus trees had wintered over. He completed the 8 murals of his pond at Giverny. A genius stroke of orange or pink in the middle of a white slash popped a waterlilly from the wall of blue and willow leaves twisted, seeming to sway with an unfelt summer breeze. He worked on them from 1914 to the year of his death in 1926, he gifted them to the people of Paris as a haven of peace after the violence and grief of WW1.  Below ground are galleries that have more Renoir, Cézanne, Rousseau, Matisse, Picasso, Derain, Utrillo and Soutine works hung in order of the evolution of styles. Mum thought that the large collection of Soutine's work that 'looks like Cézannes that have been stretched and curled into nightmares' was the product of a madman and quite disturbing - I think the artist would feel as if his purpose had been fulfilled with such a strong response to his work.

de'Orangie windows behind

As we relaxed in the shade of leafy trees on the terrace overlooking the Tuileries, an ice cream vendor was spotted and goods were procured - chocolate, café, raspberry sorbet, caramel and cherry blobs in a petite pot for two and a moray pot for one. Little did we know that not 500m away, Leelee was being restrained from panic by Lali and Belle as four of the gang got strapped into the spinner that at its zenith spun the kids upside down well above the Paris roof line. Mum commented on the shrieks ruining our peace at about the time Willow, Jof, Tas and Hash were purposely screaming as the arm swung past Leelee.  Fairground swings hitched up high and spun out above a Ferris wheel add to the 'fun corner' of the gardens. 

(If your kids need a break from culture on an extended stay in Paris, Parc Asterix with water rides a Gaulish village and Roman ruins is 45mins up the A1 towards Lille, there is a shuttle that leaves from one of the Louvre metro stations for €21 return at 9am daily or trains every 30mins from CDG airport. Book entry tickets a week ahead on line for the best price.  Paris Disney is off the A4 (about 30km east of the city centre) or catch a train from the station 'Chatelet Les Halles' to 'Marne La Vallée' for €7.50. Tickets to the Disney Parks bought prior to arrival attract a 15% discount.) 

Interpreting the Metro Map

Waiting for the connection to the Arc

 After all that fun G, Leelee and the gang decided that another must see for a first time visitor(Hash) to Paris was the home of Victor Hugo's Quasimodo. The Disney screen adaption made the twin square towers of Notre Dame an iconic symbol of sanctuary for this generation. Willow has reported that 'trouble, trouble' haunted their efforts to get there via the Metro with the ticket booths unmanned and the automatic machines refusing to accept Australian cards. 

Finding a station with people probably made them walk as far as if they'd followed the Seine down to its beautiful island setting. After all this effort disappointment met them with the building closed for a special event. Normally a climb to the roof for a close look at the gargoyles gives a fabulous view up and down the Seine.

The Paris pass (http://www.parispass.com) provides unlimited Metro travel which is worth every cent if staying in the city for a while. 

Dame it's closed - photogrins to mask the pain (of their feet)

As Granny, M and I were walking down the Seine towards Notre Dame to meet them we got txts to say that they were off to the Metro, heading for Champs Elysées to climb the Arc instead. At that moment one of the many tricycle taxis pulled up and dropped off passengers, we decided to replace them and for €10 each we were chauffeured through the heart of Parisian traffic to the top of the famous avenue. M was put in the middle to balance the load and didn't get to see much in front of where we were going. We had narrow misses with car doors opening and the cobbles gave us a very good idea of how it may have felt to travel by carriage. Although the peddler was assisted with an electrical motor on the bike he still had to work very hard to get up to the top of the Champs Elysées. He seemed to be allowed to use the taxi and bus lanes and they were all very polite to him.

Thanks mum for the photo!

By the time the couzies made it to the Champs Elysées we had been at the Arc de Triomphe for a while and had watched a pre Bastille day tribute to the tomb of the Unknown Soldier whose flame burns under the Arc 24/7. We got a txt to say that a decision had been made to have dinner first before the big climb. Since it was so mild Leelee thought it would be lovely to sit out on the pavement but the Bistro with lots of empty tables said that this half was only for 'drinks' and the half that was for eating was full. It stayed empty.  We ended upstairs at Pizza Vesuvio, right next to the sparkly Swarovski store with crystal stairs, that served very plain family dishes at Champs Elysées prices. It was great to relax and catch up with what everybody had been doing. I think there was much relief in the quiet after we left.

The dangers of the bike taxi heading up the Champs Elysées.

Military salute to the unknown soldier

 We wandered down the famous street but because in summer the lights don't come on until sunset, around 10pm, the sparkles and shadows of the lights in the trees did not accompany us. M,G and Jof popped into a swanky Mecedes showroom, Petal and Tas found a large perfumer and continued their hobby of harassing sales assistants into providing sample sticks. The rest of us meandered down until they joined us across the road at a drugstore that sold designer goods, expensive meals, books(useless to all but one of us), toiletries and medicines. It's facade was covered in nets of lights which played patterns of colour.

Waiting at the Arc

Close detail of the right panel facing the C.E.

Granny had been up the Arc on a previous trip and her new shoes had rubbed a little inconvenience, so she sat and watched the circles of traffic while guarding the bags. My bag was quite hefty by now so I was very glad not to have to carry it up the endless turns of the internal stairs. Luckily one leg of the arch was for going up and another for going down so the jostle to gain the position against the wall rather than the well as bodies pressed past was not an issue. Another leg had an elevator so Jof and his knee were spared the strain. Hash and G snuck in with him - to loud howls of protest from Belle, Tas and Petal at such unchivalrous behaviour.

They seemed to twirl forever.
A platform with a gift shop broke the
tedium before the thighs started
to burn giving courage for the last
- narrower push to the top.

Down the C.E. to the Louvre.
Sacre Coeur out of shot to the left and ET to the right

The kids at the top of the Arc just before sunset.

A smokey Parisian skyline at the end of a busy day. Napoleon's golden dome back left.

The skyline of Paris was quite grey and smokey but the triangle that we had walked that day was clearly marked by the towering icons we had visited. M's phone recorded that at the end of the day he had walked 12.9 miles, the cousies would have gone even further with their circulous route to Notre Dame. 

Jof and Hash in a dangerous pose on the way back to the cars.

 M,G and the lads walked back to the cars while the rest of us waited by one of the seven roads leading into the crazy Arc roundabout. G decided that you couldn't really say you'd been to Paris unless you had driven around this noisy confusion so for Hash's sake (Who was he kidding?) M punched in the hotel address into the GPS then headed around then down the Champs Elysées ignoring all the 'please do a u turn when possible - please turn left' instructions. Driving down the C.E. was a maze of lane swapping, traffic lights and pedestrian crossings. A red was run through by both cars and at least one fist was shaken by an unobservant tourist.

We made it back safely to the hotel and told the kids they could sleep in as the next day only had stopping in at a Dunkirk museum, catching the Chunnel back and tea with Revd and R at Zapparellies on the agenda. We woke to rain and the hotel being flooded by tall, black dressed, heavily armed Gendarmes (they are the military arm of the French police force). Trucks full of luggage were emptied and whole floors of the hotel were inhabited. We guessed that they were there to prepare for the Bastille week. It is a common sight to see machine gun armed, camouflaged dressed officers at the main tourist attractions - chasing away gypsies and checking who owns bags resting on the ground.

At the Dunkirk beach resort - having a look at the location after visiting a museum with maps, film and artifacts collected from teh big evacuation of troops to England after being pushed back to the coast by the Germans in WWII.

Now a heavily built up beach front.  The overcast day made it feel a bit drab but the sand was soft and light.

A little summer entertainment? They were pretty loud.

We stopped at the A1 services for lunch - last chance for french bread. A really good sauce was served on the fish Granny and I chose, tastiest thing all weekend.

Entry into French customs for the Chunnel - heading home to England - no dinghys required.

Our last night with the Cousies, tea at Zapparellies
(that is how you spell L'Artista in Cherieze R).

At the end of the evening the only thing that made leaving the cousies a little easier, knowing that we wouldn't see them again until our return to Sydney, was the call of blanket bay. What a priviledge it was to spend time in an iconic city with our very good friends. Thanks for the happy memories. xx

A little rest on the stairs Seine side to the Louvre.

Read on the Journey:

The Last Banquet by Jonathan Grimwood, Canongate Books, 2013
Set in 18thC France, this is for taste what a book I read a few months ago - Perfume by Patrick Suskind  - is for smell. The protagonist is less distasteful but still has that driven personalitly that makes him somewhat immune to the feelings of those around him, exotic animals become his best friends and meals. It begins in poverty and violence with his tea of beetles as his parent's corpses rot in their Chateau. It travels through military school, visits to an Aristos family, the menagerie of Versailles, Corsica and passes through the change from Monarchy to Republic.  The author's descriptions of female responses to Jean-Marie's sexual tastings are hopeful and do not attempt to address the complexity these encounters may have caused in their lives. In contrast, his descriptions of the relationship between the protagonist and his lifelong school friends (all male) are complex, rich and completely believable. Below his drive for new tastes he is a courageous, fatalistic but kind man who is protected from the world by a layer of emotional ignorance and a propensity to be happy wrapped by it. The last scenes of his life are a fitting end but hard to stomach.

On receipt of a letter informing them of their beloved only son's death in a hunt with the dauphin -
"I can remember Virginie's sob, ad the rustle of silk as she fell to the ground.  I cannot remember what I thought at all. I suspect I thought nothing beyond the need to help Virginie.  As for what I felt ... I never cried for Jean-Pierre.  But in the weeks that followed his death I walked the walks he and I used to walk when he was small; around the little lake, and through the knot garden as far as the monkey puzzle tree and back again.  I walked them until my heels cracked and my ankles bled and the bones on my feet hurt as fiercely as if someone had broken them with hammers." p169

"Emile's friends(republicans) don't want to open the cage and return the animals to the wild, they simply want to change who owns the zoo." p317

'Ben Franklin once told me something said to him by the Swedish ambassador: "The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected." ' p337



Reading now:

An old copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy. Hodder and Stoughton 1905
The story introduces the same plot in a different order than a favourite film of it. The characters more stylised and romantic than what would be writ today.
"We seek him here -we seek him there
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.
Is he in heaven? - Is he in hell?
That demmed, elusive Pimpernel."  p99
There are ten more titles after this in the in the series and three prequels.  This novel was originally a play - performed first in 1903.  Many of the characters from the French revolution are names of people famous in the times and based on some fact. Later books are set in the Napoleonic era.