Author: cia

It was raining when we woke up this morning. While eating my fresh croissant with a glass of cold milk, I poured over our Paris map to see where we can go when it’s gloomy outside.

The boy suggested we visit Musée d’Orsay before we left. I was willing to skip it, but he told us that we should go anyway just to see the space. It’s open on Tuesdays while the Louvre isn’t, so naturally, every tourist in the city had the same idea. We stood in line for about an hour with our new umbrellas. It felt so good to finally get in and warm our feet. Seeing this as soon as we walked in was just incredible:

What used to be a train station until the modern trains proved that the platforms were too short, Musée d’Orsay is now the home of Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Cézanne and Gauguin. There’s also a nice collection of Art Nouveau furniture in several of the floors.

After the museum, it was defeat: we ate at a Chinese deli for lunch. I wanted to walk to Boulevard Raspail to find a place to eat lunch, but Dynasty King called my father’s name on the way there. He ate like he had never eaten before, the rice making him happier than a pig in mud. Maybe it was the beef with onions or the sautéed vegetables, but I sat and ate with them; maybe it was my dad looking like he’s finally full. Or maybe I’m just a good daughter.

From Musée d’Orsay, we crossed Pont Solferino to the Jardin des Tuileries which was bare and quiet because of the rain.

We walked to the carousel and crossed the street to the Obélisque, a gift from the viceroy of Egypt on the Place de la Concorde. I made a stop at a creperie and bought one filled with strawberries and ordered a cup of hot chocolate with it.

We walked and walked until we reached the Arc de Triomphe, something I’ve always wanted to see ever since I moved to New York City and saw Washington Square Park’s tinier version. I remember reading somewhere that when you finally see it, you’d feel like you’re in another place; that beyond the arc is a different world, sort of like an opening to something new.

The walk on Champs Élysées was long, so we made a few stops along the way, specifically at Lacoste, my dad’s favorite store. It took €8 each, around 284 steps and some heavy breathing to finally get up the arc, but the view was as rewarding as I expected. It was a bit cloudy from up there but to see the city’s traffic moving away from the arc and Georges Haussmann’s twelve avenues forming like the sun’s rays were pretty cool. Talk about city planning and practical architecture.

The arc was built as a monument to the triumph of Napoleon’s armies but today, it’s just known as a symbol of the sheer triomphe of being French. Parisians gathered here when they were liberated from German occupation and they partied here when they won the ’98 World Cup. Every year, they still use it as the point of celebrating Bastille Day, the end of the monarchy in France. From the gift shop, my mom and I bought each other tiny silver pendants of the Eiffel and the Arc as remembrance from this trip.

We picked up a few items from a grocery store on rue Saint-Antoine on our way home. My feet were so cold I decided to cook dinner and stay in for the night. To find our way back, I remembered Arabella’s tip: stay close to the river and you’ll never get lost. I peeked from one corner and another to look for the water and then we walked to St-Louis-en-l’Ile. I stopped by La Ferme Saint-Aubin to buy a bottle of Bordeaux. I also bought several jars of jam from L’Epicerie for tomorrow’s breakfast before going upstairs.

Dinner was fennel-flavored chicken soup with rice and spinach. I started with a can of Leffe while cooking and finished with a glass of the red wine. We ended the night by doing laundry and figuring out what the French on the washing machine meant. Thanks to Babel Fish, we learned that marche means go and arret is to stop.

It’s not so bad when it rains in Paris.

Related post/s:
Day 3: Louvre Museum, Eiffel Tower
Day 2: The Pantheon, Jardin du Lexembourg, Saint-Sulpice
Day 1: Arriving in Paris
Planning a trip to Paris

Our hyacinths are still alive and so is the B family!

We hit two big spots today: Musée du Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. We woke up a little earlier so we were able to eat a fresh baguette and drink hot mint tea before we stepped out. We crossed rue des Deux Ponts to the #7 and took it all the way to the museum where the line wasn’t terribly long before noon. For some reason, we couldn’t enter the Denon section straight to La Joconde, Mona Lisa, so we had to go around to find it. Could there be any more Japanese tourists in the Louvre? They came in droves, each following a leader holding up a stick with a flag.

When we finally made it to the Italian paintings, the famous and familiar painting was just right there encased in bulletproof glass. She hogged the limelight and it was unfortunate that other people just walked by the other famous da Vincis outside the room. We took slow strolls by Jacques-Louis David’s Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and Véronèse’s Wedding Feast at Cana. Then the museum’s alarm went off and we listened to the evacuation announcement in several different languages until we couldn’t take it anymore. An oncoming headache made me skip the two Vermeers, but we just wanted to find the exit and get the hell out. My camera’s battery ran out so we decided to go home, recharge it and eat lunch before continuing on with our sunny day.

Back on St-Louis-en-l’Ile, we ordered duck confit, steak with fries and penne with gorgonzola at Cafe Med. The duck meat fell off its bones and was perfect with a warm baguette. And how can I say no to stinky gorgonzola cheese melted on al dente pasta? I finished with a cappuccino but controlled myself from buying a crepe to go.

Fortified and armed with a newly-charged camera, we walked towards the Palais de Justice and took the RER C to Champs de Mars. The tower was right there as soon as we stepped out of the Metro station.

We spent a total of three hours standing in line to take the elevator to the top floor (€11 each), taking photos and again standing in line to exit. Within that time frame, the temperature dropped drastically and I could barely feel my toes when my mom finally took a photo of me. It was a different feeling finally seeing the Tour Eiffel; much more exhilarating than being on the top of the Empire State Building (sorry) or the Statue of Liberty (so sorry!). Mona Lisa had no say. When you’re standing right below it and you look up, nothing beats that realization of how massive it really is. All the waiting was worth it. My mom thanked me–I don’t know exactly if it was because she was feeling the same way or if she was thanking me for the entire trip–but all I could do was smile back.

Before going back up the apartment, I bought an apricot crepe and a Hoegaarden to snack on before dinner. A few hours later, I woke my parents from their nap to eat. I saw a Moroccan restaurant down the street earlier and I was hoping it would be open even though most Parisian restaurants are closed on Mondays. Le Tarbouche was open.

I’ve made tagine at home before but my parents don’t know the difference between Moroccan and all the curries that I cook. I ordered two tagines: lamb with raisins and onions and chicken with preserved lemon and olives. I also ordered several dips of eggplant, red bell peppers with tomatoes and cucumber with onions to accompany ksra, the Moroccan nan. Everything came with vegetarian couscous and a 2000 bottle of Algerian wine from Chateau Tellagh.

I think the three of us had to adjust our waistbands after eating. All that giggling, waiting and walking made us super hungry and tired. The waiter and I communicated just by nodding our heads and doing hand signals. It’s always easier when food is involved, no?

Related post/s:
Day 2: The Pantheon, Jardin du Lexembourg, Saint-Sulpice
Day 1: Arriving in Paris
Planning a trip to Paris

We woke up at 11am after a long slumber. Even my parents who are early risers were surprised they slept soundly. As soon as we all got ready, we bought our first croissants from the bakery downstairs. The boy was right; croissants in France are flakier than American ones. Then I bought a cup of real hot chocolate across the street at Cacao et Chocolat. It was drizzling but we were adamant to start our walk around Saint Germain and the Latin Quarter.

On Saint-Germain Boulevard, we stopped by the St. Nicolas church on rue de Pontoise to dry up and get our bearings. Not knowing how to read a map even if I’m stuck in a big city, we kept trudging on toward rue des Écoles until we finally saw a sign that said Panthéon. We walked up rue des Carmes and voila!

We paid our €7-admissions–at $1 = €1.42 rate!–and spent a couple of hours checking out Louis XV’s thank you gift to Sainte-Geneviève, the patron saint of Paris, and visiting the tombs of France’s most influential figures. My mom was most impressed with the naves and the dome, while my dad, as expected, mentioned that there’s a “similar” building in Ilocos Sur. I rolled my eyes at my mom and she gave me that knowing smile. Down at the crypt, Voltaire, Hugo and Dumas–Marie Curie as the only woman–are among those buried.

I was hungry when we stepped back out in the rain. We walked down the hill and decided to have lunch at La Paillote D’or, a restaurant that “spécialités Vietnamiennes.” If my French serves me right, why, I believe that means they got phở inside! I struggled when I ordered, but I managed to get my parents beef saté (boeuf) and grilled pork (porc grillé) and myself a bowl of phở with papaya salad (salade de papaye). My very faint deux bols de riz, s’il vous plaît got my dad two bowls of rice. (My mom squealed, You’re so cute!) I know that chicken is poulet but goddamn it, I’m not having boring chicken in France!

The rain let up, so we continued on without really being sure where we were headed, but when I noticed the sign for the Sorbonne, we cut through, said a quick hello and took a photo.

Jardin du Luxembourg was unmistakable on Saint-Michel Boulevard. It was so beautiful even without leaves on the trees. The Palais du Luxembourg, the seat of the French senate, was grand and it was a nice backdrop to the Fontaine de Médicis and its surrounding statues.

Next stop was the church of St-Sulpice, most famous for its Delacroix frescoes. I’ve gone into more churches the last day and half than I have in the past year! My dad bought another candle and lit it in front of the Pietà.

We spent the last light walking back home. The rain was steadier, so we admitted it was time to give our feet some rest. A couple of hours later, we went to Aux Anysetiers du Roy to eat dinner. I encouraged my parents to be more adventurous. We ordered and shared the salade de gésiers and the half dozen escargots with the sôle meuniere and the fricasée de volailles.

We also bought milk, butter, tea and beer from the store across our apartment with the friendly Moroccan clerks. My mom stopped by the bakery by herself and bought a baguette by showing the clerk the universal symbol for “one” and uttering “bread.”

I think we’re getting the hang of Paris.

Related post/s:
Day 1: Arriving in Paris
Planning a trip to Paris

The three Filipinos made it to Paris!

Our flight left for Iceland at around 9pm. Five hours later as the sun was rising in Reykjavik, we had our passports stamped through customs. We boarded the flight to Charles de Gaulle and finally got some much-needed sleep. We arrived in Paris a little after noon. My parents waited for an hour to pick up the wheelie we were required to check in at JFK while I changed some dollars to a whopping €1.31 rate! From there, the adventure began.

The Cia plan had us take the lift back down to the departures area where we got on the shuttle bus to the RER B which in turn connected us to the city’s Metro. I bought three Visite cards, the equivalent of New York’s unlimited Metrocard, but wasn’t informed that I can only begin using them on Monday until those damn turnstiles showed us Xs on the small screens. I stood back in line and bought three €8 tickets to Châtelet-Les Halles, the grand mama of all Metro stops. We walked and walked to follow the signs to the Mairie d’Ivry #7, got on and stepped out at the next stop, Pont Marie.

The Seine was right there and we all let out a sigh of relief. We crossed the bridge to ÃŽle Saint-Louis and walked a few more blocks to the apartment. Of course, the Cia plan is never fool-proof; I forgot to write down the agent’s cell phone number and there were no pay phones around to call the owner. I asked two hotel employees and the grocery store clerk across the street but they all said I had to get out of the island to find a pay phone. My last course was the man carrying a paper bag full of baguettes. He lent me his cell phone and I finally talked to the apartment owner. Someone was watching over us because the owner was actually inside the apartment to let us in and as soon as we did, the agent showed up.

The apartment was as beautiful in person as in the photographs. The subtle steel green color was a nice choice to match the loft, the wooden beams and the fully-equipped kitchen. From the drapes and the sofa down to the towels, the owners made sure everything complemented. The windows looked over the small street of rue St-Louis-en-l’Ile and you can smell the baked goods from the boulangerie below us.

We settled in after taking care of all the paperwork with the agent–hot shower never felt so good. We stepped out and started walking towards Notre Dame on ÃŽle de la Cité until we decided to grab something quick at Le St-Regis Brasserie. Good timing, too, because it started to rain while we were eating our hot onion soups and saucissons.

The cathedral’s bells beckoned and we decided to end our first afternoon by giving thanks. We sat through an hour of mass conducted in French and spotted fellow Filipinos in the crowd. (Either they turned around whenever we said something in Tagalog or the women wore scrunchies.)

It was dark when we left and a bit nippy, too. The crowd was still steadily coming in and out of the church, though. The bistros around the corner were opening up while the souveneir stands were closing shop.

We walked back to the apartment, bought beautiful flowers from Patrick Allain Fleuriste and figured out how the TV worked until dinner time. Around 10pm, we walked down the street to eat at La Taverne Du Sergent Recreteur because Gourmet De l’Ile could not accommodate any more diners in their tight space.

I knew my parents would not eat as much as I would like them to so we opted out of the €39 prix fixe that comes with endless sausages and salads and a bottle of Alsatian wine. I ordered the lamb while my mom went for the steak and my dad the salmon. My lamb was perfect but my mom could not chew her beef. My dad could not complain that his salmon came with rice. We toasted to our first night in Paris with a Heineken and two glasses of Rhône. We made it, we said, and then we laughed our Filipino laugh.

Related post/s:
Planning a trip to Paris