My Mom's 75th birthday in Giverny

My Mom had thought long and hard as to where she wanted to spend her 75th birthday. It was also the 75th anniversary of Casablanca, so that seemed like a romantic idea as to where to be, until we discovered it's not really where you want to be in Morocco. We loved Italy, so Rome was an option. I think the heat would have melted my Mom. My Mom would have loved a long windy canal tour through the wine area, but Paris seemed to make her smile, so Paris was the chosen destination.

We walked over to Ian & Sue's hotel, the Hotel de Sèze, and all walked up the the train station, St. Lazare, to make our way over to Giverny, and Monet's home, gardens, infamous lily pond and studio.

What time is it, really?

Our local train staion, Gare Saint Lazare.

There was quite a queue for the train ticket — a good thing we got there early, and made the train with five minutes to spare. Giverny is a 44 minute train ride west of Paris. At Gare Vernon, we boarded a  bus that took us to Giverny, along with what seemed like 90 other Impressionist fans.

Tourists on a bus.

We walked along a lovely quiet town to take us to Monet's house. The gardens were in peak bloom — peonies, roses, aliums, sweet williams, bachelor buttons and poppies were showing their best faces. I saw popppies in colours I didn't know existed.

My Impressionist ode to Monet.
A pleasant mistake.

Monet's home.

Now this is my idea of a lovely garden.
Looking wild and natural.

On approaching the famous lily pond, you could hear the chatter of bull frogs. They were loud. It was wonderful to hear their conversations and watching them darting about in the water. Not doubt they were complaining about the throngs of people surrounding their beloved sanctuary and gawking at them. It was amazing the "bridges" didn't collapse under the weight of the tourists. Everyone had to have their photo on the large bridge, that Monet painted so many times, including me. Unfortunately, I have more "out of focus" photos of myself, that there isn't one I like. Alas.

The birthday girl on one of the smaller bridges,
hence no tourists clambering to get on.

The "big" bridge in the background.

Monet's house was decorated with his actual pieces. Beautiful bedroom with a corner view of his garden. His dining room sat 14 comfortably, with spare chairs  tucked along the wall. His salon was filled with his work. It was a proper gallery in its own right. His studio space was massive, almost train station like in design with a tall peaked roof made of glass with a curtain acting as diffuser strung underneath the roof line. Walls were wide enough to easily accommodate his enormous canvases of the water lilies we saw the day before. The studio had two over-sized "husband waiting area" couches, that were original to Monet's era, that were a pleasant relief for husbands to plop into while their wives shopped for Monet souvenirs, in this converted studio.

In front of Monet's door.

Take a break on the "husband" couches
in Monet's studio/souvenir shop.

We walked beyond his house to "La Musardier's" restaurant, the creperie, for lunch. I think we all had crepes for lunch — either savory or sweet. I had a buckwheat crepe with camembert and apples. Yummy.

We sauntered back slowly towards our bus area, going along quaint country roads, that I'm sure have not changed much since Monet's day. We saw the same hillside poppy scenes that Monet painted. I bought floral sachets that were made in France. They were a bouquet in my purse. The rain held off till we almost made it onto the waiting bus.

The vines on this house were enormous.

Gotta do the tourist thing.

Our bus driver was a card. Tall, dark, stylish & 25ish, we seemed to take up a little banter with my very broken French. I honestly don't know how it started, but isn't that usually the case? We had tickets that needed to be validated once we got on the bus with a little machine. I was the keeper of our bus tickets, and the last of my little group on the bus. Well, somehow he got me to put our tickets in the machine. Flirting shamelessly, putting his arms around me, showing me how to use the machine. Yup, I could be a cougar, if this was my pup. But I digress. It was all good innocent fun as he then had me validate all the remaining passengers' tickets - as they boarded the bus. He asked if I was with my sister, and I said my mother, en francais, & that it was her 75th anniversaire, today. Well, a big sing song, broke out on the bus with kisses for my Mom from our cute driver. My Mom was tickled. Alas, my little flirt was over & we were in Vernon, walking in to the train station, waiting for our train back to Paris.

To kill time in the train station, I used one of those old style photo booths and had my photo put into a postcard that said, "I love France." My Mom couldn't resist getting the fun kitsch done too. We all collapsed on the very full train back to St. Lazare Paris.

Once again, we asked Praxede at the front desk, suggestions for dinner for tonight. "Le Madeliene C", which was around the corner, was recommended. It was a neighborhood restaurant, that was cute, had good ambiance and an easy walk away. I had brought a candelabra birthday candle from home, to the restaurant to put on my Mom's desert.

We all had the specials for dinner — Scallops in lobster bisque and Ian had the prawn & "best lobster he had ever had." I couldn't resist, & ordered my favorite dessert, crepes suzette. My Mom didn't want dessert. Well, I went back to the kitchen & asked them to put the candelabra on any dessert they thought it would work on. The restaurant's lights were dimmed, and the gateau au chocolate with the candelabra & sparklers came out with the entire restaurant singing to my Mom. It was great. Then the owner/maître d', put a little firework that shot up a foot on the cake. 1, 2, 3 and she blew out the candles. It was a fun moment that was accompanied by a glass of champagne. Somehow our hotel had given the restaurant a head's up about the birthday. I later discovered that Praxede at the front desk, had let the restaurant know, when she made our reservations. She had overhead us talking about celebrating a birthday in the lobby. Now that's what I call, attention to your detail.

The mini flame on the gateau au chocolate.

My Mom's birthday was a fun success. We walked back in the drizzle to our hotel to plot our moves for tomorrow, which, as always, will be weather dependent.

The surprise!

9:45 am, the phone rang in our hotel room. I answered. The voice on the other end said we had guests waiting in the lobby. BIG surprise for my Mom— my Mom was thrilled when she saw Ian hiding behind a newspaper sitting in the lobby as we got off the compact elevator. Sue, Ian's wife, was sitting across from him.

I had invited Ian and Sue to join us to celebrate my Mom's birthday, once we booked our flights in February, but told him not to mention it to my Mom. Ian, being Ian, always gets back to me, but generally not till just before our meeting. Approximately three weeks before the trip, Ian had phoned to confirm that yes, he and Sue would be delighted to come and join us for the celebrations. Since meeting Ian 25 years ago, we have celebrated more notable birthdays with him, than anyone else. Though Ian and Sue live on the edge of the Lake District in England, distance has never been an obstacle to us. Ian surprised my Mom on her 60th, 65th, and 70th birthdays, so it was only natural that he would help us celebrate my Mom's 75th birthday.

We all had breakfast in our hotel & made plans to walk down to L'Orangerie, to see Monet's  massive Water Lillies, before we head over to Giverny.

The walk down to the gallery was probably the limit to my Mom's walking. Our hotel was centrally located, so it was a lovely stroll down.  We walked around Place de Madeleine, along Rue Royale, passing the infamous Maxim's, crossed Rue de Rivoli into the Place de la Concorde where we entered the Tuileries gardens to gain entry to the front of L'Orangerie. From Place de la Concorde, looking one way you could see up to the Arc de Triomphe, pivot and see the Eiffel tower, turn around and see the Louvre. It was a spectacular vantage point, and rich with so much French history. This is where Marie Antoinette was guillotined, along with Danton and Robespierre.

Walking towards the Tuilieres gardens.

The Louvre is straight ahead.

There was an hour queue before we actually got into the gallery, and we all decided to get a pass for this gallery, and for Monet's house in Giverny, as we would be heading there the next day. The main floor had two massive salons, each containing four of Monet's spectacular views of his garden in Giverny. The canvases were 40 foot wide, and that is not an exaggeration. The rooms that housed the paintings, were lit by natural diffused lighting,  under the same conditions as Monet had painted them in, in his studio. They were glorious. I am a huge fan of the Impressionist movement. We wandered downstairs where Monet's contemporaries were  represented: Manet, Modigliani, Renoir, Cézanne & Derain, to name a few. There was much more to this little gallery than I expected.

Ian, Sue and yours truly.

Ian, Sue and my Mom

My Mom and Sue cabbed up to Galleries Lafatte, where we decided to have a change of pace for the afternoon, and do a bit of shopping, but first, meet for lunch on the upstairs terrace of the store. Ian and I walked up to the store. It was a good walk, and the rain managed to hold off. A slight drizzle greeted us as we hit the doors of the store. By the time we made our way to the rooftop terrace restaurant, the sun had come out, and the squishy astro turf under our shoes was oozing out water. The views of the city were stunning. The Opera Garnier was directly in front of us. The Sacre Couer was behind us. And what's a view of Paris, without the Eiffel Tower in it?

After lunch we all separated to do our own thing, I'm sure Ian was relieved by that, and we made a designated time to meet. This store was beautiful, with it's central dome. I didn't have much time, but wanted to get a little something for my Mom's birthday that was French. I found a Parisienne blue & white striped T-shirt by Armor-lux, with matching scarf that fit the bill. I also picked up a 75th birthday card, en Francais, to be a reminder for my Mom where she celebrated this noteworthy birthday. Incredibly, I managed to find a lovely cashmere area, as I was going down the escalators, and picked up something for myself, utilizing my 10% tourist discount card, and knowing I would also claim back my 12% VAT, making it a must stop for me.

Galeries Lafayette's landmark dome.

French women love their pumps.
They wear them at all times.

Needless to say, the shoe selection was wonderful.

My Mom and I wandered back to the hotel. I was still getting my bearings, and asked at the Gap, where we were on the map. It's always nice to know where you are, in order to get to where you want.

Our hotel front desk staff suggested a restaurant for dinner, Le pas-sage oblige. It took us to a whole new part of town, which we wouldn't have sought out on our own, so it was a good thing. The meal wasn't an overall hit, but, we tried something new.

Tomorrow, we take the train to Giverny.

Puces de Saint-Ouen & Montmartre

Slept till 8 — eventually made it down for breakfast for 9:45. Lovely breakfast set up in the hotel's breakfast room — flaky petite croissants, OJ, strong coffee, musli and yummy fatty yogurt — a hardy breakfast to get us going the for the day.

We cabbed up to the Paris Flea Market, AKA Puces de Saint-Ouen. We had a great driver, chipper personality, spoke little English, I spoke little French, but we got along famously. The streets were still quiet as we headed north to the market. We were dropped off on the edge of the flea side of the the Paris maket, the Clinancourt side. Tacky stalls going as far as the eye could see with knock off levi's, I love Paris t-shirts and Eiffel Towers in every size, colour and blingness. Having said that,  I bought a lovely huge Eiffel Tower for 14 Euros to add to my collection at home.

One of those towers is now in my living room.

My Mom in the Flea side of the market

We continued walking, under the overpass, and found the proper antique sections I had read about. We found a little bit of everything there — some tack, some outrageously formal pieces, garden ornaments, deco, retro, clothes from every era and price points to match. I bought a wonderful French Army colonol's hat, à la Charles de Gaulle style, my Mom's thought, or Inspector Clouseau's style, my thought. It was originally perched on a stuffed boar named Albert, who was mounted on the wall. The owner of the stall was quite delightful showing me his other  pieces that sat on Albert's head, as well as unique items he had, that were not in my price point. He also had a 1920's French sailor's hat, but my hat just said, "French" to me, so went with the Clouseau hat. I truly loved this little souvenir. It is a massive hat, incredibly, even too large for my Mom's generous cranium — I was drowning in it.

The lure of the antique.

Notions from the past 75 years.

Vintage umbrellas.

The French love their dogs.

My Mom in the indoor antique mall.

Vintage Chanel purses.

Louis items of all eras were popular.

A few stall owners having a very civilized lunch.

 Found a vintage clothing store that had all eras in their collection,  including gorgeous Vogue cover-like show piece hats edged in mink. Had lunch in the Antique flea market area, in a little bistro, that seemed to cater to the neighborhood & tourists alike. We got a jaw dropping bill for lunch. Discovered white wine was 3 Euros more than red wine, for the same size house wine. Lesson learned. Pay attention to the menu before  you order. The meal was lovely, with generous sized portions. I had a salade fromage, with 3 cheeses, egg, mayo & lettuce. Yummy. My Mom had a massive salade nicoise. We shared a tarte au tartin. No way we could finish our meals, with the portions as they were.

Lunch.

Wandered down to the end of the area to try and hail a taxi. Who knew it would be so difficult? I had my arm in the air for cabs with their lights on and without their lights on, as it didn't seem to make a difference. We actually found a taxi stand that had ten unmanned cars lined up. I'm sure the drivers were just standing there at the side, watching us, assumed we were Americans, and just couldn't be bothered. Finally a fare was being dropped off and we snagged that cab to take us down, or rather up to the Sacre Coeur.

A Sunday at church.

It was just starting to drizzle now, and we went inside this impressive church, that Hercule Poirot once called a "wedding cake," to take in all it's divinity. It was packed inside.

A typical street creperie.

Canadian tourists in Montmartre.

This silhouette artist was amazing,
putting this couple in one cut out.

Who doesn't love a good tart?

The Montmartre biscuterie.

The macaroons.

Such lovely artwork to show off the menu.

 The drizzle didn't stop us from roaming into Montmartre proper to soak up the atmosphere. We bought beautiful pastries, biscuits and macaroons from the Biscuiterie de Montmartre. What can I say, I'm a sucker for good packaging, and this place knew how to do it. Lots of yummy shopping. The drizzle seemed to keep many artists off of the streets, but there were still some in the traditional square you expect to see them in. We started walking down to Pigalle, but grabbed a free taxi, when we saw one, because who knows when we would see one again, & my Mom's feet and knees were at their limit for walking for the day.

Back to the hotel de l'Arcade to enjoy our sweets, try on my French chapeau and rest up for tomorrow. Yummy macaroons!

My Mom as Charles de Gaulle.

Me as  Clouseau.

Snacks.

A bright blue sky over Paris greeted us

After what felt like a long seven and a half hours on the plane, a bright blue sky over Paris greeted us in the morning. We had pre-booked a cab to pick us up, which proved to be very convenient.

We arrived at the Hotel de l'Arcade, expecting not to be able to check-in till that afternoon, but our room was ready, so up we went. Room 602, is a corner room on the top floor of this hotel with four large windows allowing light to flood in. A walk around balcony surrounded our room.

We wanted to take advantage of this lovely day, as we had heard the forecast for the week, and it didn't look encouraging. We booked a taxi and were off the Eiffel Tower for lunch on the first level. Throngs of tourists were swarming like ants at the base of the tower. I asked about the lineup at the information booth. With only one elevator working now, we decided to walk up to the first level, yes, even my Mom was willing, as she said, "she would take it slowly." It was a hard climb, and someone with asthma, a heart condition and arthritic knees, was put through her paces. My Mom was a trooper climbing those 328 steps. The steps were marked along the side at each ten.

Looking a little weary, but enjoying the tower.

Our boxed lunch.

I commandeered a lovely window table with a view of the seine, Tracadero and the Sacre Coeur in the background. We had a lovely boxed lunch of a main and dessert for 20 Euros (poached tuna & panna cotta). I wanted to start the trip with a glass of champagne, but I think the walk up had the better of my Mom, and water seemed more practical. We walked around level one, taking in all the views, looking down on the Champ de Mars, as people were sitting and enjoying the lovely day. We bought a few Eiffel Tower souveniers and then decided to descend the 328 steps. If one suffers from vertigo, I do not advise walking down. If you didn't keep an eye straight ahead on the stairs, you really could be thrown off the by the height and all the stairs ahead of you. My Mom took is slowly as her knees creaked going down the steps.

Looking down at the line-ups from the first level.

Looking south to Champ de Mars.

Descending the 328 steps.

Gustave Eiffel's wonderful landmark.

Mini towers came in all forms.

I think this climb was a bit of a push for my Mom on our first day, and after a few photos at the base, she was ready to head back to Hotel de L'arcade. Her feet were now swollen, as she raised them against the wall above her bed.

We had a quiet evening in, after all, we had just arrived, and you could hardly say we slept on the flight over, so did not feel bad about an early night. By now the sky had turned a moody grey. I walked around our balcony and just took in the flavor of our little neighborhood.

View from our bathroom.

Looking down Rue de Seze towards
Place de la Madeleine.

Tomorrow we are to hit the Flea market & antique markets in the Porte de Clignancourt area and then head down to Montmartre.

"Antici - pation", as Frank N Furter of Rocky Horror fame said.

It was 1975 when I first saw Paris. I was thirteen, and with my Mom on our grand tour of Europe, well, our version of it, in August of that year. The weather was windy, dark, and all around miserable. I remember wandering the streets around our hotel in the morning as my Mom got ready. I remember eating amazing croissants and loving the big bowls of cafe au lait. What can I say, Paris did not enamour me.

May of 1984, I was freshly graduated from university & on my obligatory back-pack tour of Europe with friend Chris. We were in Paris on her birthday, May 20. Again, it was windy, dark and all around miserable. We had met up with my Dad for a few days, who had also decided to do Paris, when I was there. He treated us to the Moulon Rouge, a ride up the Eiffel tour,  a stroll through Notre Dame and a wander around the Paris opera house. Still loved the croissants and bowls of cafe au lait, but not enamored by this city. I know I am in the minority, but there you have it.

October 9, 2010, my Mom and I did a day trip to Paris taking the Eurostar from London. I loved Paris, or perhaps more precisely, I loved the day. It was such fun. Way too much crammed into way too short a time, but we had such a wonderful day. It was sunny, warm and perfect. The kind of weather day that showcased all the best of Paris. A cruise down the seine, lunch on the Eiffel Tower, a run through the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa, and there you have it. Not enamoured by Paris, but things were looking up.

So as I pack my bags, and anticipate this next trip to Paris, in honor of my Mom's 75th birthday next week, I am really hoping for sunny weather. Festivities are planned in Giverny and for the actual birthday, and how glorious Monet's gardens would be in the sun.  I admit it, the weather affects how I feel about places. The forecast is not looking encouraging, but, I am holding out hope for a ray of sunshine to brighten up our festivities.

Stay tuned for more thoughts on Paris...

Bird baths

Is there anything more chirpy and cheeful as a robin having a full on spa treatment in a bird bath? I get the plump ones, the young naive ones and the families. They can empty the bowl in a day with all their activity.

My birdbath, located behind lovely ostrich ferns, beside a David Austen rose and in front of peonies, is beautifully sheltered and protected for my neighborhood birds. It has been one busy spot in my garden for the past couple of months, with spring arriving extra early this year.

I love watching all the activity, and you can believe Lily and Gretel do too, from the safety of my front door. I was eye to eye with a mourning dove this evening as I watered the garden. Who was going to out-stare who? I just moved my hose further down the garden and let him, or her, carry one.

And on warm day like today, I can see why there is so much action — a comforting relief for them I'm sure — not to mention the squirrels going for a sip or two.