* One more week in Collioure – Oct 07

Back from Tuscany, it’s good to be home. We have a week before we leave for the “new world” for the winter. We have had a marvelous extended summer (from mid-May to the end of October) in Europe and we’re beginning to list potential destinations for 2008 – Prague, Dubrovnik, Mikonos, Portugal – all easily accessible from our idyllic village of Collioure.

A surprise. When we meet with Madeleine to discuss having her open our apartment next spring, she tells us that Kristina and Tom, with Hanna, will be in Collioure the next day. It was Kristina from whom we first rented when we came to explore Collioure in 2005, and she was very helpful as we went about purchasing our own apartment. We exchange emails and arrange to meet for lunch on Sunday.

It is a spectacular fall day (Hanna plans to swim later), and our outdoor table at the Copacabana is perfect. Kristina and Tom both work for the US State Department in Moscow, and we share Russian experiences. Hanna goes to the international school and is an amazingly sophisticated (but still playful) young lady who is not yet nine years old. Tom has brought a bottle of Russian vodka which we manage to keep out of the waiter’s hands.

It will take us four days to get back to Key West.

• Day 1: train to Girona, pick up rental car, return to Collioure.

• Day 2: drive to Barcelona, stay overnight a hotel near the airport.

• Day 3: fly Barcelona-Madrid-Philadelphia-Fort Lauderdale, spend the night in a hotel near the airport.

• Day 4: breakfast with our friends Eileen and Ron, pickup rental car, drive to Key West.

* Tuscany – Oct 2007

Mon, Oct 15 to Sat, Oct 20

Leaving Florence was easy. We taxied to the Florence airport to get our rental car from Avis. There was some problem because Budget (Avis acts as the Budget agent in many locations, having purchased the company) listed the wrong car on the reservation. However, this was resolved by the Avis manager, and we were able to make two changes, drop off at Pisa airport instead of returning to Florence, and an extra day. This was much better than our original plan to drop the car at the Florence airport, cab to the Florence train station, train to Lucca, train to Pisa train station, cab to Pisa airport. What were we thinking?

OBSERVATIONS ABOUT RENTING CARS IN EUROPE:  Budget, which is never a problem in the US, seems always to be a problem for us in Europe. Hertz, which is often the most expensive choice in the US, is sometimes the least expensive choice in Europe. Avis personnel are extremely accommodating, and will work with you to resolve problems.

Finding our Tuscany villa, Borgo Argenina, was not so easy. For one thing, there was no street address, so we couldn’t put the location into the GPS. Then the map provided by the host was far from precise. It turns out there are kilometer markers every 0.1 km on Italian highways, but none of these was indicated on the map provided.

Once there, however, Borgo Argenina was marvelous. It’s an old villa, purchased 10 years ago by our hostess Elena, a woman from Naples, who renovated the house, brought in electricity and plumbing, built the dirt road from the highway, and opened a B&B five years ago. We have a large room with a large bathroom, and a tub! The view from the rear patio of the villa is spectacular – vineyards, mountains, a few buildings in the distance.

By the time we’re settled, it’s after 3:00 pm, and we haven’t had lunch. We’re not going to get lunch, either, since all restaurants are now closed until dinner at 7:00 pm. Our hostess’ daughter called the closest place, ascertained that the grocery store adjacent to the simple restaurant was open, and gave us direction. So we’re off to the tiny village of San Sano, a few km back along the road we had taken and high into the hills from there.

At the tiny grocery store, we purchased cheese sandwiches on baguettes, soda, and chips. The delightful older man scurries into the adjacent house to get the mayonnaise. We eat outside on a small table, watching the family putter in their lawn. Just as we finish eating, another couple arrives, American, followed by two more couples, also American, and we spend a delightful half hour sipping wine (sold by the glass from the grocery store) and talking. Eventually, the conversation gets around to my novels and for a few minutes it seems like a book club meeting.

We decide against dinner, and instead purchase more cheese, crackers, and a bottle of wine to take back to our room.

Siena is a beautiful medieval town, smaller than Florence, but on a par with its buildings, art and shopping. Elena has provided perfect directions for entering the city and finding the closest parking lot and escalator up five flights to the ancient center within the city walls. It’s still an upward hike from the top of the escalator through the narrow winding streets.

The famous town square, site of the Palio horse races, is huge, dominated by the government palace with its high tower. The Duomo is even more impressive than its counterpart in Florence. We have a substantial lunch in Siena and once again pass dinner.

The next day, we head for San Gamignano, having loaded both our destination and our departure point, where the dirt road meets the highway, into the GPS. The rest of the traveling world is familiar with GPS, but this is our first real use of it, so we still have the enthusiasm of novices. The GPS leads us through 50 kilometers of turns, obscure roads and roundabouts, a trip that would have been longer and stressful without it.

San Gamignano is famous for its 5-6 high medieval towers, built for defense and prestige by competing families. Of course there’s a government palace and a cathedral, every wall covered with great frescoes, one side from the Old Testament, the other from the New. The town is utterly charming. We meet a couple from California, who now live in Bucks County, and have a nice chat. This time, we limit our lunch, determined to go to at least one Tuscan restaurant for dinner before we leave. The GPS takes us home without incident or stress.

On the way home, we find Vecchia Osteria, one of the restaurants suggested by Elena, just enough off the road to miss it the first three times we pass. We try to call for dinner reservations, but the phones aren’t working. Elena explains that someone has “stolen” her number. We don’t really understand what she means, but she uses her separate fax line to make the reservation for us.

Later, when we’re leaving the villa, another couple (Don and Jan) is going to the same restaurant and they come with us. Two other couples are also eating at the same restaurant, and the eight of us are the entire business for Vecchia Osteria that night. The dining room is cozy, and the meals are ok but not spectacular. During dinner, we talk about a name for our GPS lady, and Don comes up with Gypsy (GyPSy). He has never used a GPS and is fascinated on the ride home in the dark at the way ever twist and hairpin turn is precisely shown on the screen.

On our third day, we explore the hilly countryside of the Chianti region. We go first to the charming village of San Guzme, and choose a restaurant for dinner. Then it’s up and up and up on winding narrow roads, until we drive next to a communications tower on the highest spot in the region. We must then come down, after which we have lunch at a monastery/winery. A tree behind the monastery walls has turned a spectacular yellow.

La Porta del Chianti in San Guzme is a great choice. The wine presentation was something to behold. We had each ordered a glass of the local Chianti Classico, from the vineyard next to the restaurant. The waiter rolls up a small table, on which he places three glasses and one open bottle. There is a ritual from glass to glass, swirling, and he tastes. When he is satisfied, he pours a small amount for me to taste. the whole thing is theatre and the wine is excellent. So are the meals.

Our second visit to Siena is just one of those perfect days. Veterans now, we find the parking and escalator and enter the medieval city. We wander a bit, find the synagogue which is closed, enjoy the long view from the medieval market square behind the government building.

Then we go to an unusual site described in the National Geographic guidebook, the Siena Archives Office. Here are stored the official records of Siena from the 13th century on, in cardboard folders on shelves. But … each year’s record book was decorated with a wooden cover on each of which is a colorful, detailed painting. There are hundreds of them and we wander, enthralled.

There are also documents available for view. One is a letter signed by Boccaccio. Another is an original page of the Inferno handwritten by Dante. No photos are allowed inside, but I ask if I can take pictures from the window overlooking the Campo square. The guard, a woman who has proudly shown us the Boccaccio and Dante, now takes us to a tiny, somewhat precarious balcony overlooking the square, a spectacular vantage point that would no doubt cost a fortune during the Palio, the twice annual replication of the medieval horse race for which Siena is famous. We stand open-mouthed at our good fortune and I take many photos in a short period of time. Later, we learn that another couple at Borgo Argenina saw us on the balcony and wondered how we got there.

We luxuriate with a light lunch in the sunny square, then go to the Museo del Duomo. Again the art is spectacular, especially a large round stained glass window, brilliantly colored. The difference is that we view it straight on, instead of the usual 100 feet above us in a church wall, so we can see all of the details.

On our last night at Borgo Argenina, Elena cooks dinner for 14 of her guests and serves it around the heavy wood table in her authentic Italian kitchen (where the modern appliances are cleverly hidden behind doors or curtains). Salad, pasta with red sauce, beef, pork sausage, wine, crème pudding. She presents a special non-meat platter for Pat, having learned earlier of her preferences. Everything is cooked and served in the traditional Tuscan manner. Elena is the perfect hostess, serving and eating with us, explaining each dish. It’s also a chance for lively conversation with the other guests, all of whom are American. 

We drive to Lucca (about 2 hours), park, and enter the medieval town via a narrow double passage through the town walls. The town is a delight, the old buildings, narrow streets, sudden squares, many shops and restaurants. We find an excellent place for lunch.

The drive to Pisa takes another hour and we have plenty of time to see the Leaning Tower. Except we can’t find it. There is one sign, but no followup. We enter something in the GPS and it takes us to one way streets we can’t enter, the only time Gypsy has failed us. We spend a frustrated half hour, laugh at the story we have to tell (knowing how others will laugh when they hear it), and drive to the airport.

“Did the tower fall down today?” we ask.

“No, it’s there,” the Avis attendant says.

We fly Ryanair to Girona, arriving too late to get to Collioure, and spend the night in the excellent Novotel. The next morning, we train to Collioure.

* Florence – Oct 2007

Collioure to Florence – Mon, Oct 8

Our 7-stage transportation odyssey from Collioure to Florence is less stressful than we have anticipated. This is mainly due to the fact that we have the right luggage: 2 large “spinner” suitcases, 2 carryons, one a roller which holds the other, plus a camera bag and pocketbook. Last year we really struggled with less mobile luggage.

Still, the trip is not easy … train from Collioure to Perpignan (20 minutes), train from Perpignan to Girona in Spain (1.5 hours), shuttle bus from Girona gare to airport (20 minutes), Ryanair to Rome (1 hour 10 minutes in the air), bus from Ciampino airport to Termini train station in Rome (30 minutes), train from Rome to Florence (1.5 hours), taxi from train station to the Hotel Casci (5 minutes). We left our apartment in Collioure at 7:00 am and arrived at the Casci at 8:30 pm.  We check in, and go right to sleep.

Travel Note: on the train were two couples who had come on the train from Venice to Rome, missing their stop in Florence, and were heading back. We made sure they got off in Florence this time.

The Hotel Casci is next door to the Palazzo Medici, my main research destination in Florence. It’s 5 minutes to Piazza del Duomo, another 5 to Piazza della Signoria, another 10 to Ponte Vecchio – Perfect! Our room is spacious and clean, with a reproduction of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus over the bed. We’re on an inner courtyard which is perfectly quiet at night. There is some construction going on during the day, but we’re not usually there at those times.

The Casci is family run, and everyone is very friendly and helpful. They always followup to ask if our restaurants, opera, etc, were ok, gathering information for future guests. Breakfast is included, with plenty of rolls, coffee, cake, cereal. I try café au lait and stick with it for the week. We think the 150 euros a night is a good value.

Tue, Oct 9 – Mon, Oct 15

We used National Geographic and Frommer’s Florence/Tuscany guidebooks, and they were excellent, so our comments will be mostly limited to our personal impressions.

The Piazza del Duomo is utterly stunning, with the enormous 12th-15th century Duomo (Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore), Baptistery, and Campanile in immediate proximity to each other. Brunelleschi’s dome, Giotto’s bell tower, Ghiberti’s doors, all just as they were in 1478 (the year my new novel begins in Florence).

Piazza della Signoria is equally impressive, with the massive government palace, the Palazzo Vecchio, and Loggia della Signoria taking two sides of the irregular shaped square, and large palazzos most of the rest. The Uffizi Gallery, originally a 16th century office building, is connected to the Palazzo Vecchio (government center) which it served.

The Palazzo Medici is a major location in the new novel I’m working on. We enter through the massive gates on Via Vavour (Via Larga in 1478) and enter the courtyard, which is the site of an early-scene football kick around between Lorenzo de Medici and his brother Giuliano. I’ve drafted the scene, and now it comes to life. I imagine Donatello’s David, long since removed, in the center of the courtyard, hear Lorenzo laugh as he kicks the ball through an upper floor window at the crowd the brothers have attracted.

The Palazzo Medici today is not what it was in the 15th century, since it was expanded by the Riccardi family in the 17th century. Along the front façade, there are now 17 windows, of which only 10 existed in 1478. The original palace was roughly square, with stables and other working areas where the Riccardi addition now sits. The addition to the façade is done so well that it is impossible (for me) to see any line of demarcation. Of course, it’s been 300 or so years since the addition, so the weathering has had time to blend.

I spent a lot of time figuring out the interior dimensions and rooms as they would have existed in 1478, returning to the Casci to draw possible floor plans, and then back to the palace to check my plans, running back and forth between the floors until I’m satisfied.

Jewish Florence. About a month before we went to Florence, I emailed Templo Israelitico (synagogue), asking about 15th century synagogues. Signora Lionella Viterbo responded, told me there were no synagogues as such in 1500, and suggested I take the tour being given in conjunction with a conference on Ethiopian Jews.

The tour guide (Giovanna) led us to many sites, some of which had residual evidence of the small (75-100 persons in 1500) Jewish presence, and others which could suggest what the streets and buildings looked like then. I used a digital dictating machine to take notes as we walked, and to record some of the guide’s comments. These notes were later transferred to my computer as small audio files.

At the end of the tour, I introduced myself to Giovanna, explained my purpose, and we exchanged cards. She said to call while we were still in Florence, which we did, inviting her to dinner on Saturday night.

The Monastery of San Marco, now a museum, is as sumptuous a monastery as you’re ever likely to see. It was fully renovated by Cosimo de Medici in the mid 1450s, in return for papal forgiveness for all of his sins, mainly usury. The Dominicans complained about living in such splendor, with a priceless Fra Angelica fresco in each cell, but the bargain had been made with Prior (later Archbishop and still later Saint) Antonino, and they suffered through it.

On the first level are two quiet and elegant courtyards, for the monks to walk in and meditate, decorated with marvelous frescoes, as well as a VIP dining room (now the gift shop) and the less elegant room where the monks took their meals.

Cosimo had his private two room cell at one end of the second floor cells, which he used as a retreat. San Marco is just a five minute walk from the Palazzo Medici, perhaps longer if, as Cosimo did, you suffer from the gout.

Giroloma Savonorola, ultimately a mortal enemy of the Medici and their successor as ruler of Florence (until he was himself burned at the stake by the Borgia Pope Alexander), occupied a three room cell when he became Prior of San Marco. His cell is as far as possible from Cosimo’s, although Cosimo was long dead when Savonorola moved in.

Paolo at the Casci made a reservation for us at the Galleria degli Uffizi. It was difficult to find the place to retrieve the reserved ticket, and there’s still a line, but it’s better than an even longer wait if you come without a reservation. The gallery, however, was a disappointment to us. The Botticellis are magnificent, of course, but they’re darker than the reproductions you see and not well lit. After that, it seems like an endless procession of one Madonna and child after another.

We saw two operas in Florence – La Traviata & La Boheme – an unexpected and delightful treat. They were held at St. Marks English Church, with 100% of the proceeds to benefit children in a village in India. The church is contained in an ancient palazzo, with vaulted ceilings and frescoed walls. It’s set up as a theater in the round, with a small stage flanked by seats on three sides and the altar on the other.

Each performance featured four singers and a piano player, with introductions and between acts commentary. The main voices (Violetta and Mimi) were magnificent, and the supporting men were also terrific. Between acts, we met the man who played Alfredo and learned it was his first performance.

Fiesole is an ancient village on a hilltop overlooking Florence. Could anything be more romantic? The Medici Villa at Fiesole is now in private hands (the Martini family, which apparently owns half of Florence) and you have to email to make an appointment. They return the email promptly.

You can walk around the gardens and view the outside of the villa, but cannot go in. Still, I got a good sense of the building and surroundings in which Lorenzo often entertained the scholars of the Plato Academy, which I will describe in my book.

Nearby is a Roman amphitheater, two millennia old, with seating for 3,000. I have written a scene where my lead character, Benjamin Catalan, is taken to this amphitheater by Giuliano de Medici for some serious conversation, and I sat on the steps where I imagined them to have been, seeing what they saw.

The Galleria dell’Academia is most famous for Michelangelo’s David, but my favorites there are the unfinished statues, where you can almost see Michelangelo at work, the figures partially emerging from the stone block.

The Pazzi family was at the center of the 1478 assassination of Giuliano and attempt on Lorenzo. Subsequently, all evidence of the Pazzi family was erased from Florence, the men executed or exiled, the women forbidden to marry. But the city map shows a Palazzo Pazzi, and, lo and behold, it’s really there. It’s an imposing building three story building around a courtyard, although much smaller that the Medici home.

When we arrived, the gate was open. A man said it was private property and we couldn’t enter, but a women overheard my author’s plea and let us in. Then two other women wanted to know all about the book, and were disappointed when I explained that it wasn’t yet written. It was extraordinary and unexpected to stand in that courtyard and imagine Jacopo de Pazzi riding his horse into it, frantic after the failure of the attempt to kill Lorenzo and fleeing for his life (he didn’t make it and died a gory death).

The Capella Brancacci on the other side of the Arno River (Oltrarno) contains the frescoes by Masaccio that changed the entire direction of Renaissance art. Painted early in the 15th century, 70 years or so before Michelangelo, and studied by Michelangelo when he was a child, these are the first examples of both rounded, realistic figures, and perspective, contrasting sharply with the flat paintings which came before. Not much is known of Masaccio, who died at the age of 27, but his work is thrilling to see, especially since you can get very close to it.

The chapel is set in an extraordinary church, the Santa Maria del Carmine, rebuilt after a devastating fire in the 17th century, with soaring vaulting ceilings covered with frescoes. Florence has so many spectacular churches, but this is one of the best. Standing there, looking up, we consider the substantial resources of money and time and artistic talent which led to these extraordinary places of worship.

On Sunday morning, we go to mass in the Duomo. When we travel, we often go to church or synagogue, since Pat is Catholic and I’m Jewish. This mass, however, has special meaning for me since this was the actual setting, on April 28, 1478, for one of the major scenes in the historical novel I am currently writing.

So as Pat follows the mass, my mind’s eye can’t help seeing the assassins take their places, eyes darting, tension mounting, while the unsuspecting Medici brothers nod pleasantly to those around them. The signal for the simultaneous attack on Lorenzo and Giuliano was the raising of the host, which unleashed a violent carnage not ten feet from where we are sitting.

In 1478, the panicked worshippers ran from the cathedral, but five hundred thirty years later, Pat and I sit quietly until the mass is concluded.

At the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, we saw Donatello’s David under restoration. It is lying on its side, on the same second floor space where it is usually displayed, while artists work in full view of museum visitors. A video explains the restoration process.

The church of San Lorenzo, just around the corner from the Palazzo Medici, was the family church of the Medici family in the 15th century. It is plainer than many churches in Florence, without the pomp of the Duomo, but there is a majesty to its simplicity that somehow evokes the similar qualities of Cosimo de Medici, who was instrumental in its restoration. Adjoining the church is the impressive library containing many of the manuscripts collected by the Medici family in the 15th century.

There are many excellent restaurants in Florence. Here are four recommendations: Cammillo on Via Borgo San Jacopo and L’Osteria di Giovanni on Via Del Moro, recommended to us by our friends Barre and Pamela; Trattoria 4 Leoni at Piazza della Passera where we dined with Giovanna, the guide to Jewish Florence, and Trattoria Nella on Via delle Temme, which we wandered into.

Shopping in Florence varies from the most elegant array of designer shops, one after another on so many different streets, to the boisterous bargaining of market stalls near San Lorenzo, in the Piazza della Republicca, and many other locations. Fine Italian leather is available in a huge range of prices. I buy two belts and a wallet. Pat adds to her collection of shawls.

* Living in Paris – 2007

If you’re expecting a tourist’s guide to Paris, we recommend Rick Steves or Pauline Frommer.

What we did was spend a wonderful 10 days in Paris without ever going to a single museum or any other major attraction. Our objectives, and they were many, all had to do with learning how to live in Paris. We explored where to shop, where to get an American breakfast, where to get our hair cut, and many other essential elements of six months abroad which are not available in Collioure.

Then, later in the month, we returned to Paris so Pat could run the Paris to Versailles ten mile race.

Saturday, Sept 1

We took an 8:30 train from Collioure to Perpignan (20 minutes) then had an hour wait which we filled with breakfast at the restaurant across from the gare (train station). From Perpignan to Paris, we went 1st class on our half-price senior fares, arriving at Gare de Lyon and taking a cab to our home exchange apartment.

Our accommodations were a home exchange in the heart of Paris, on rue de Tempe at the edge of the Marais district in the 3rd arrondissement. Upon arrival, we had the great pleasure to meet our exchange partner, Robert, who had mistakenly purchased train tickets for the following day. He had another place to stay the night, but we spent a delightful hour being entertained by descriptions of his long career as an actor and director on stage and in film.

The names Marcel Marceau (who died a few weeks later), Robert de Niro, Dustin Hoffman, Stella Adler, and Lee Strasbourg, among many others, just rolled off his tongue. Robert told an incredible story of a lifetime in theatre and film, up to the present when he runs a training school for actors in Paris and New York.

A picture of his daughter’s christening included the godparents James Baldwin and Ava Gardner. Prior visitors to the apartment included Allan Ginsburg and Salvatore Dali, and there was a very small, autographed, nude photo of Marilyn Monroe hanging unobtrusively on the entrance hall wall. Far from unobtrusive, however, were the many explicitly nude drawings and photos of women of many shapes and sizes. The other dominating aspect of the apartment were the books, which filled shelves on every wall and cabinet, including the entire wall in the WC.

When Robert finally escaped our delighted questions, we walked in the Marais, an exciting area of Paris, and had dinner at an outdoor restaurant.

Sunday, Sept 2

Pat took her early morning run down Rue de Temple to the Seine and then along the river to the Tulleries, Champs Elysee and back. She has become very familiar with this route and for her it makes Paris a great running city.

Sunday is the best day of the week in the Marais. We used the occasion to learn about our new Garmin Nuvi GPS, and it was terrific all day. Highlights included Sasha Finkelsteins for bagels, Thanksgiving for American food, and the Red Wheelbarrow Bookstore (great selection of American titles), where we met a woman from Riga who has lived in Paris since WWII. I accepted her recommendation and purchased Irene Nemirovsky’s 1930s novel, David Glover, which has been re-published since the huge success of her posthumous novel Suite Francaise, written shortly before the author was deported and murdered at Auschwitz.

I decide that what I’d really like for dinner is a hamburger. Pat is immediately on the web and soon announces she has found the place. Breakfast in America is an American diner in Paris, with two locations, one in the Marais and one in the Latin Quarter. They serve real American breakfasts all day as well as hamburgers and other 1950s diner food. There was a short line at the tiny restaurant, but it was worth the wait.

Monday, Sept 3

Pat is on a mission, GPS assisted, to find every sporting goods store in Paris in search of ladies running shirts, power gels, and other necessities. We find every one, but not so many ladies running shirts, perhaps explained by the fact that not many French women do much running.

We had dinner with Evan, with whom we did a home exchange last year. He is a delightful person, the brother of a friend in Key West. He is disappointed, however, that we have no visits from foreign acquaintances. Last year, while having wine with Evan, Russian friends from Moscow arrived to join us.

Paris has a new bike system, called Velib, and Evan helped us figure it out. It’s a brilliant idea. 20,000 bikes are place in a series of racks every 300 meters in Paris. You take a bike, ride to your destination, and leave the bike in another rack. The bikes themselves are outstanding, heavy and comfortable.

The system for getting the bikes, however, reflects the French passion for bureaucracy gone mad. There are 17 steps in the process, which requires a credit or debit card with an intelligent chip, so most American credit cards won’t work. Fortunately, my French bank debit card has a chip and does work.

There are issues with the system, such as how do you return a bike if the racks are full. It is also questionable if the goal of less traffic will be accomplished, since the bikes seem to replace walking and Metro, not the use of cars. However, it was fun and we did it several times during our stay.

Tuesday, Sept 4

We rode the train to Versailles and used our GPS to find the trailer (no electricity) which served as the headquarters for the Paris to Versaille 10 mile race. Last year, Pat planned to run, Maureen came over from New York to join her, and the race, which attracts 20-30,000 runners, was inexplicably canceled. This year, all attempts to register on-line have failed – perhaps the lack of electricity has something to do with that – so we trek to Versailles to register in person, cash only. There are three young guys hanging out in the trailer, and they give Pat two t-shirts from the 2005 race. They promise an email confirmation which never arrives.

We train back to the St-Michel stop on the Left Bank and find the Hotel Sully St. Germain on rue des Ecoles, where Pat’s daughter will stay later in the month. We lunch at the other (original) Breakfast in America, where the bacon is crisp, the eggs and potatoes are outstanding, and the deer and the antelope play.

After lunch, we explore Au Vieux Campeur. This the most unusual store you can imagine, since each department is in a different location, 2-3 per block for blocks on end, perhaps a dozen stores all together. We make a purchase in one store, but have to go to another to pay.

Pat has accumulated a long list of hair salons which promise to speak English. All the locations have been entered into the GPS, and off we go. We find the first address but no salon. They’ve moved. We call, using our new French cell phones, and get the new address, which is several blocks away. But on the way, we find and decide to try Franck Provost. There was in fact one excellent English speaker, and we both got terrific cuts (so we tell each other).

That night, we have dinner and great conversation with our Key West friends Rawy and Nijole, who also have an apartment in Paris, at an excellent restaurant in the Marais.

Wednesday, Sept 5

It shouldn’t be hard to purchase an external DVD burner. But I’ve been to a series of stores, all of which carry the item and all of which are out of stock. Finally, at Les Halles, which is generally a dismal shopping center, we find a very large computer and appliance store and purchase the elusive DVD burner.

We lunch at a sidewalk restaurant in the Latin Quarter, meet an Australian girl who has loved her week in Paris, and skip dinner for cheese & crackers in the apartment.

Thursday, Sept 6

We search for more stores, including Bon Marche, and have lunch at The Real McCoy, another American style restaurant. Back across the Seine, we rent bikes and ride to the Tuileries, where we have some difficulty finding an open rack to return the bikes. There is, on the web, a continually updated list of all locations, including the number of bikes available and the number of open spaces for return, so if you have a blackberry or iPod with you…

We eat at Au Gamin de Paris on rue Vieille du Temple in the Marais. We had lunch at this friendly restaurant last year, and dinner is just as good.

Friday, Sept 7

WH Smith is a great English book store on rue de Rivoli. Despite bringing close to 100 books with us in June, and buying more in Ireland in July, and several at the Red Wheelbarrow, we are running low.

If you saw Something’s Gotta Give with Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson, and Keanu Reeves, you saw the Grand Colbert. We followed the GPS directions, and later learned how easy it is to find behind the Palais Royal, and met the waiter who served in the movie. This will be on our 2008 Paris list for dinner.

You cannot buy a Paris Metro ticket with a credit card since it doesn’t have a memory chip, but I can use the debit card from my French bank. It seems there’s no such thing as a French credit card, although almost every store and restaurant accepts American credit cards … can that be true!

The Hotel de Ville, Paris’ city hall, is a spectacular building which sort of anchors the Marais to the right bank. I read somewhere that the inside is as opulent as the exterior. Tonight, however, the focus is on the large plaza, where a huge screen has been set out to view the first game of the Rugby World Cup, featuring France versus Argentina. We stop for the beginning of the game on our way to dinner, and head off for dinner.

Every Friday night Paris hosts several thousand roller-bladers on a police escorted romp through the city streets. The route is published every Thursday on the web, and we head through Isle St. Louis to the Pont Sully and Boulevard Henry IV.

We’re early, so we sit on bench and enjoy the cool Paris evening, wondering how the considerable traffic coming off the road along the Seine will be managed. Quite easily, it turns out. At 10:20 pm, Several police on motorcycles, and some on roller-blades, arrive and block the intersection. Two thousand roller-bladers arrive a minute later, pass on quickly, and the road is re-opened. No problem.

Walking back to our apartment, we return to Hotel de Ville for the sad ending (France lost). The large crowd is very well-behaved crowd, many sitting on a lawn of artificial grass laid for the occasion.

Saturday, Sept 8

Today is our 23rd wedding anniversary. Pat celebrates by extending her run to 9 miles, in preparation for the Paris to Versailles 10 miler later in the month. She runs from our apartment on Rue de Temple all the way down the Champs Elysee to the Arc d’Triumphe, and then back.

We have a romantic, candle lit dinner at Coupe Chou, recommended by our friend Carol and also by Anne, our Mexico exchange partner who came to Paris in April before going to Collioure.

Sunday, Sept 9

We ride our rented bikes along the Seine, return the bikes and enjoy petite de jeunier with croissants, baguettes, juice, coffee and tea. It’s 19 euros for two, and we realize what a bargain Collioure is – same breakfast for 12 euros.

Marche de Saint Catherine is one of the few remaining village squares in Paris. Difficult to find, it is worth the effort. We have a very pleasant, informal dinner in an enchanting setting, then pack and get ready to leave in the morning

Monday, Sept 10

Monday morning rush hour and we have difficulty getting a taxi, risk missing our train even though, as always, we have allowed extra time. A friendly lady in the jewelry shop calls a taxi for us, but it doesn’t arrive. She keeps checking on us, calls again, and receives promises but no taxi. Finally, a taxi discharges a passenger and takes us on. We arrive at Gare de Lyon in plenty of time for our 11:24 am train.

Saturday, Sept 29

Nineteen days later, we take an early train to Perpignan. The restaurant across the street isn’t yet open, and we join exactly the collection of scruffy characters you would expect find at 6:30 am in any train station café in the world. We escape as soon as possible and board the waiting TGV to Paris. Since we have our Carte Senior and get 50% discounts, we are again going 1st class, and it’s wonderful.

From Gare de Lyon, it’s a quick 10 euro taxi ride to Hotel La Perle in the 6th arrondissement. A really nice small hotel, our room is “Paris small,” but well laid out and quite comfortable. The neighborhood features St. Sulpice (of Da Vinci code fame), some excellent upscale shopping, many fine restaurants (including the famous Cafés Flore and Deux Magots a couple of blocks away), and all the delights of the nearby Boulevard St. Germaine and Latin Quarter. There’s even a Ben & Jerry’s.

We’re in and out of the hotel, walk a few blocks to the Metro, and head to the Race Expo. It’s Building 5.1 in a huge complex, not well signed, but we find it, and Pat gets her number and chip.

“You can keep the chip when the race is finished,” she’s told, but the brochure says there’s a 15 euro charge if you do, and in fact there were very serious people collecting all chips just past the finish line.

The Expo is a collection of booths promoting other runs, and there are a goodly number of half marathons to consider for 2008 and beyond. There are no 2007 Paris to Versailles t-shirts, so it’s doubly good that Pat got two 2005 shirts when we went to Versailles earlier in the month to register. A race without a shirt! In New York, there would be a revolution.

Dinner at Monteverdi. It’s our third time at this delightful Italian restaurant just around the corner from La Perle, and all have been excellent. We ate there last year with Maureen and her sister after completing the “Not Paris to Versailles.” Pasta for Pat, of course, and just a wee glass of red wine. The streets are filled with Rugby fans, better behaved than expected, and every bar is set up to show the games.

Sunday, Sept 30

After weeks of worrying about the weather, checking every day to get forecasts of cold and rain, the day of the race proves to be perfect, cool and sunny. We chose a cab to the Eiffel Tower, rather than two Metros, and arrive 20 minutes before the scheduled 10:00 am start.

There are thousands of runners assembled, and Pat heads, as all runners do, to the portable potty line. The French have added a new wrinkle – a 4-sided urinal, next to the other enclosed toilets, this one completely open to all viewers. It’s hard to know why they even bother, however, since the road before and after the start line was lined with men peeing at every tree, bush, and blade of grass.

Except for the elite runners at the front of the pack, all others are first come-first serve, so there is a considerable mixing of fast and slower runners. Pat was probably in the first 25%, but after 2-3 kilometers, the runners were all sorted out.

The early kilometers are through the streets of Paris, neither attractive nor awful, and interesting to Pat since she has not seen this arrondissement before. Then comes a huge hill, 1.2 miles, which she mostly walks. After that, it’s a terrific run through the forests (formerly the hunting preserves of the king) and into Versailles.

Meanwhile, I had taken the RER train to Versailles, had a long conversation with a couple from Vancouver experiencing Paris for the first time, and positioned myself on runners left about 100 feet from the finish line. Using our new French cell phones, Pat called at kilometer 10 and again at kilometer 15, and she arrived about 10 minutes after that, an overall 12 minute (per mile) pace.

Typical French approach to collecting the chips. One person cuts the plastic strap and then gives the chip back to the runner. You think it’s yours? A few steps further on, there are people collecting the chips. Why two stations? Because the French will never have any person do more than one task. Why employ one when six can have jobs, even if they’re volunteers?

We walk to the train station and catch the Metro back to Paris.

If there’s a better time and place than Sunday afternoon in Paris, we haven’t found it. We walked through the Latin Quarter, across to Notre Dame, around Isle St. Louis, and over to the Marais for a cool drink at the Place de St Catherine, the utterly charming square we found earlier in the month. On the way back, the outdoor screen at Hotel de Ville is showing the Rugby World Cup match between Ireland and Argentina to a crowd that fills the plaza and the huge carpet of artificial grass.

We planned a special dinner at Le Procope, the oldest café in Paris and a place we had first enjoyed on our first trip to Paris in 1988. The ambiance is wonderful, as is Pat’s meal. Mine, however, is another story. Steak medium-well apparently means pink to the French, so I send it back. Pat says it’s my fault, that the blank look on the waiter’s face means he doesn’t understand my instructions, and that it’s a hopeless cause to expect a steak cooked the way I want it.

This doesn’t excuse, however, the three times we had to ask for a carafe of water, or the waiter slamming the salt and pepper on the table after the second time we asked for that. Third time we’ve been to Le Procope, and the last.

Monday, Oct 1

A wonderful morning. Breakfast at the café on the corner across from St. Sulpice. A walk across to Isle de Cite, on the same street, rue Dauphine, and past the same Hotel Dauphine that are featured in the book I’m currently reading, Alan Furst’s The Foreign Correspondent. A tour of the Conciergerie, including Marie Antoinette’s cell, which is Pat’s current reading. Back into the Latin Quarter for lunch, raclette and fondue. To the hotel, gather our bags, taxi to Gare de Lyon.

The train ride home is another opportunity to enjoy the spectacular French farm country. France is a beautiful place, and the view from the upper deck of a comfortable train is great.