Au Revoir Paris

There's a light rain falling on the City of Lights and the cold San Francisco like air has come back to usher in our last night in the city. The walk today exhausted us, but, as hard as it is to believe, hunger stirred again. Earlier in the week, we passed a charming little restaurant called Equinox, but try as we may, we could not locate it again. Tonight, without a hitch, we found it not far from our hotel.

With low lights and candles on the table, tonight was a true French experience. The waiters spoke little English, but it was pretty easy to figure out the menu. The coq au vin served over tagliatelle was the ultimate dish to end my gastronomic adventures. But tonight was all about the desserts and with Rosemarie having her new favorite drink, chocolat we shared a tarte tatin in addition to a concoction with almond ice cream on a spongecake base topped with almonds, pistachios and assorted chopped nuts drizzled with a sweet raspberry sauce.

Maybe the secret to the Parisians is the slow and lingering nights at dinner. No one rushed us out and we sat, often times quiet just enjoying the atmosphere and the company. We've talked and laughed and shared this entire trip and tonight was a quiet culmination of the week.

For those of you who have followed us on our trip to Europe - thanks for coming along. You've been a part of a once-in-a-lifetime trip that I sometimes thought I'd taken too long in planning. It was everything I dreamed about and more. This is a city I love and there's nothing like showing such a sight to a woman you love more than life itself. Without her, for me there would be no Paris.

Au Revoir Paris - it won't be long until we meet again.

Is This The Last Leg of the Race?

Our last full day in Paris started a bit later than the previous ones. The sheer amount of activities is catching up to us and after seven days, it is time to return home. But before we pack our bags, there is more to see, and yes, to eat.

At the suggestion of my friend Wayne, we took in what is one of the best museums I've ever seen - The Rodin Museum. Small, intimate and full of the iconic sculptures of the master himself, the house that holds the creations is a must-see for any person who comes to Paris. From The Thinker, to The Kiss, Rosemarie and I were in awe at the talent that one man possessed. And, yes, I found myself singing Linda Eder's Gold when we saw the works of Rodin's mistress Camille Claudel.

With the sun finally breaking free of the clouds overhead, we headed back to the Montmartre section of Paris to embark on a walking tour of Cinematic Montmartre. Following one of the guided instructions from my aunt's Christmas present to Rosemarie we set out for an adventure on shoes.

First stop, the Moulin Rouge and then for nourishment at the Cafe des Deux Moulins, which was featured in the film, Amelie. Sufficiently filled (A croque madame of course), we set out for the rest of the walk, where halfway through, we saw the warning on the card:

This walk includes many staircases and steep hills.

Strolling through the most charming streets of the city, the guide wound us up and around the city to look at points made famous or used for film locations and art. At the top of an incredibly large hill, like an oasis was the ideal Parisian cafe - and there we sat for an hour as the sun chased the clouds away. With a glass of wine and a hot chocolate, Rosemarie and I sat overlooking the city below us. You can guess who had the chardonnay.

Our walk began again and it wasn't long until we were faced with just one of the many staircases. There were no lifts at any point and up the embankments we climbed.

"You would never have made it up the arc," I said to my mom as we stopped midway for her to catch her breath. The view behind us was spectacular and after a short reprieve we ventured on.

"Is this leg of the race over?" Rosemarie asked as we made our way to the Basilique du Sacre Coeur.

She wouldn't hear of stopping at this point and we walked into the religious behemoth. From the stained glass to the statues of the saints, the church was awe inspiring, and even I was moved enough to dip my finger into the holy water. I had to check with Rosemarie to be sure I'd made the sign of the cross correctly.

The tourist crowds outside the church were a vast difference from the quaint Paris streets our walking tour had taken us through on the way to the last stop. Here were any big town's annoyances - the barterers, the gypsies, the street performers, the cheap garbage on sale. It could be anywhere U.S.A. and was slightly disappointing to see.

With our feet aching and believe it or not, our stomachs relishing our last dinner in Paris, we've arrived at our hotel where you guessed it, Rosemarie is fast asleep.

last day

More Wine And Rose

It's hard to believe that we were even hungry again, but believe it or not, we were starving when dinner time rolled around. Taking a suggestion for dinner from my cousin's son girlfriend who is here on a semester abroad, Rosemarie and I headed out to the Montmartre section of Paris to Les Relais Gascon.

We are now seasoned Metro riders, so getting there was easier than finding our way to Notre Dame. But before we could get to the restaurant, we had to climb out of the bowels of earth. Up we went, bypassing the lift, thinking that it could not be much further. Around the staircase wound and despite getting a bit winded, Rosemarie stopped for a bit and marched upwards.

"There's no way you could have walked up the Arc steps," I said as we looked around the corner to find even more stairs. We could feel the night air, we just could not see the night sky. Finally, with my mother short of breath but quickly recovered, we found our destination, which was small, intimate and oh yes, complete with even more stairs to the second floor.

It felt like we had walked into someone's home and were their invited guest. Close tables, yet strangely hard to hear the conversation next to us, although we couldn't have understood it if we tried.

Of course, as the only one in the family who drinks, I ordered the wine and we began with our favorite French Onion soup. Although clearly not on the level of our last soup experience, this as well deserved to be soaked up by the warm bread. Learning from my last meat experience, we ordered our dinners medium rare and followed it with a chocolate mousse that lingered on your palette while we also carefully cracked the topping of the perfect Creme Brulee. Two desserts, especially in France, are far better than one.

Dinner tonight was something I would wish for any child and parent. A time to talk as adults about life and love and experiences never shared. Here, on a cool Parisian evening, with the last of the wine poured into my glass, and my lazy eye just now making an appearance, was a night full of conversations only dreamt about, only imagined that one could share.

Walking down the Metro stop was a lot easier than maneuvering it up and finally, at long last, we exited where we were supposed to at our stop. It's Monday and the streets of the Marais are quiet. Rosemarie was fast asleep as I went out to enjoy what the bottle of wine and lazy eye has started, but Monday in Paris is the same as Monday in Los Angeles. It's a pretty city, but not a pretty crowd. Everyone that is, except the tourist with the lazy eye.

Tomorrow is our last day in the city of lights - and from tonight, it has a lot to live up to.

A Stroll Down The Avenue

Having the hotel room to come back to after our weekend away was perfect. It felt like coming home. If you can believe it, we were famished, so after a quick shower we headed out to the Marais for lunch. We couldn't resist our new favorite: Croque Monsieur for Rosemarie and a Croque Tomato for me. I don't know how they do it here, but the crust of the bread is just crispy enough but not burnt, yet the rest of the sandwich is just lightly toasted. It's an art and I want to buy every print.

The weather is still cool, but the sun peeked through and we followed its path for the rest of the day, as we took a leisurely stroll down the Champs Elysées. The flowers in bloom were exactly what April in Paris is supposed to look like - the crowds of a busy downtown are not. The avenue has all the stores you expect and although it was wonderful to be there, we were more excited to get back to the smaller neighborhoods of Paris. Our hotel is on the perfect street and to us, the quaint neighborhoods is where this city really shines. It's great to see the fabulous stores, but a Disney store is a Disney store.

The sun was out and we got the perfect seat at a cafe. We sat laughing and drinking and watching the men and women stroll by. My goal to get us to smoke has fallen by the wayside. I am pleasantly surprised that not a lot of people are smoking, or if they are, then we're not noticing it.
It's for sure a different Paris than when I was last here.

Once again, Rosemarie insists she's not tired, but as we relax in our hotel, where we are resting before we eat yet again, she is fast asleep. Of course, she'll deny it later, but so it is written, and I never lie on the page.

Paris Monday

Renvoi à Paris

After an incredible weekend in Belgium, we are back on the train to Paris. Before we retired, we all watched a fabulous reality show, Over The Rainbow the search for a new Dorothy.

The roosters began crowing early, but I managed to go back to sleep. However, Rosemarie decided to wake up at 6 a.m. Now as my roommate will attest, the mornings are not my favorite time of day, I don't like to speak until I've at least showered or brushed my teeth. It was futile to try to shush my mother, so I tried my best to get another hour's worth of shut-eye. But with the roosters back in action and Cookie scratching at the door, it was futile to resist. As I made my way downstairs, poor Winston didn't recognize me, and as he had done every morning of our stay, he barked and cowered away before he figured out I was the same person from the day before. It's tough getting old no matter what your species.

Once again, our hosts had the table set and we enjoyed fresh coffee and bread before Serge drove us back into Antwerp to catch our train. I promised to not let so many years go by before my next visit and I really hope I stick to that schedule. But, from the second we disembarked on Saturday, the years we have not seen each other didn't even exist. Never underestimate the power of letter writing. It may be a new age of Facebook and Twitter, but nothing beats the friendship that the two of us have cultivated and maintained through the post.

Naturally, we had to have one more waffle before leaving the country and as luck would have it, there was a stand right inside the train station. They're like Dunkin' Donuts, the aroma is just too hard to resist. Unlike the ones we had on Saturday, the treats served from the carts are warm and soft and you can get them with a variety of toppings. We settled on a plain one that was laced with enough sugar to keep an entire elementary school of children wired for a week.

Then, my mother decided to throw the waffle paper away, which required her to move more than five feet from me.

"Oh my God," I exclaimed. "You left my side!"

"I was just thinking that, you funny face," she said. "I made it back."

"So, I see."

Our train was surprisingly, fifteen minutes late and we'll be in Paris within the hour. It's quite crowded and there is a feisty quartet of German boys one row over. I don't speak the language, but it seems teenagers are, no matter where you are - teenagers.

You Cook Like This Every Night?

What can you say about great friends? No matter where they are in the world, a good friend is about as special a present as you can get. Rosemarie and I are exhausted and our hosts could not have been more perfect. Dinner wafted in from the kitchen and it was beyond delicious. First course, tomato soup with cream and baby shrimp followed by a shrimp souffle that Serge just "threw together." Made with the eggs from their chickens, the dish was light, airy and remained on the tongue as we had our final course - tomatoes stuffed with yet another creamy shrimp concoction with a side of homemade Belgian fries. The mayo was all gone in seconds.

"You cook like this every night?" I asked.

"Yes, yes, of course," Serge responded to someone who makes a week's worth of meatloaf and chicken casserole and freezes it. "Sometimes, though, we are tired and just have a pizza."

Thank God some things are the same across the world.

April in Belgium

It's April in Belgium, but it feels like January in San Francisco has followed us to Europe. As we drove towards Bruges, the clouds got thicker and we knew it was going to be a cold day. And what does one do when it's chilly outside? Well, eat and drink warm things of course. First up, as you've guessed were Belgian fries. I don't think Rosemarie will eat another fry without mayonnaise ever again. Served piping hot with a glob of the condiment, the snack was perfect as we walked up and down the medieval streets. My mother made a mess all over her sleeve as the mayo dripped down into the cone and it got a little tough trying to pick them up with the tiny forks.

And what's a trip to the ancient city without a stop in one of its most famous churches. The blood of Christ is stored in the cathedral and it only makes its appearance outside of its confinement during a rare pomp and circumstance ceremony. But today, for some unknown reason, visitors were allowed to touch it and offer up a prayer (for a donation, of course). Now, I am the most non religious person in the world, but how could you resist touching what legend says is the blood of Jesus Christ. I hate change in my pockets, so it was a pleasure to drop the annoying Euro coins into the offering box, Rosemarie and I got in line and touched the relic. I counted to ten, but I think every other person offered up some sort of prayer.

Bundled up against the assaulting wind, we decided to warm up with a hot beverage. The Italian Coffee with Amaretto was the perfect liquid. Sitting under the heat lamps in the square sheltered from the wind, the four of us watched as little Belgian children taunted one of their peers, who, Serge told us after they left, were bullying one little boy because he was clearly not white.

"Children are nasty everywhere," I said. "But he's got way more hair than any of them and they'll all be old bald bullies, so he'll have the last laugh."

If you thought the coffee would end the beverage consumption, you'd be mistaken as we wandered into one of the many chocolatier shops for what was clearly the best hot chocolate ever made. No doubt adding another five pounds to our waistlines from one sip, the drink, which for sure had the highest fat content of milk ever produced, warmed us up even more.

As the sun attempted to make its way vainly through the clouds, Serge took us to the city of Gant, where I marveled at the McDonald's'. Maybe the fast food eatery would be more appealing if, in the United States they were in such gorgeous surroundings. We took a look at the interesting menu but after Belgian fries and with Phillipe promising to make them for dinner tonight, there wasn't a question of stopping in.

The architecture never fails to impress me. How can you compare these surroundings to a bubble like Los Angeles where something built in 1963 is viewed as ancient. From the stones to the bricks to the sheer magnitude of the interiors, how these churches and houses were built is just astounding.

We're back from another full day, the dogs are settled down and Serge and Phillipe are once again in the kitchen preparing what smells like an incredible dinner. Tomorrow we leave on the morning train back to Paris, where I'm hoping the clouds will not make an appearance. I can't be sure of that, but I can be certain that the roosters will be non-existent.

bruge