The Anniversary Invasion, Part 4
Picking up the narrative again after a break for Worldcon and Rosh Hashanah. This post covers two days (Saturday, August 24th and Sunday, August 25th) so it's a bit long.
Saturday was primarily devoted to herding the clan via the Eurostar to Paris. Before that, I took advantage of our location to spend an hour strolling around St. Paul's Cathedral. The rest of the family, being good Jews, deigned to spend any time in a church. But I was interested from both an architectural and historical perspective. Besides, I was worried my membership in the Connie Willis Fan Club would be revoked if it was discovered I'd been down the street from St. Paul's and didn't at least walk around the outside.
Came back just in time to check out, but it was still too early to cab over to the train station, so Sheryl and I and her parents hung out in the hotel bar for about an hour. I decided to get myself a pint of ale because it didn't seem right to leave England without downing a pint. I also figured I'd never hear the end of it if my friends (read: Sutton and Weingart) found out I went to England and didn't imbibe a drop of ale!
We got to St. Pancras Station about ninety minutes early for our train. I found us a Le Pain Quotidien along The Arcade that we could get sandwiches from. Then we joined the line for security and passport check, catching up with the rest of the Gere clan in the Eurostar departure lounge.
The train ride was decent, if a bit cramped. The Eurostar seats were clearly laid out by a refugee from a U.S. airline. There was not quite enough room in the facing pairs of seats for four sets of legs, especially early on when I had my backpack between my legs because the luggage racks were limited in space and we needed them for our suitcases. Eventually I realized I could stick the backpack and Sheryl's duffel bag in the space between pairs of back-to-back seats, which helped a bit. Luckily the journey was only a slight longer than two hours, and during our passage through the Chunnel we got up to get snacks from the club car. And really, I shouldn't complain too much about a train that can take you 300 miles in a little over two hours. I should enjoy the sort of train ride available in countries that believe constructing and operating high-speed rail service is a legitimate use of government funds.
Our arrival in Paris was a bit interesting. First, Sheryl's brother had managed to book us in what was identified as Coach 1, but which turned out to be the last car of the train. So it was a loooooong schlep all the way down the platform. Then we had to figure out how to get nine people plus luggage into cabs, which was made a bit more interesting as Sheryl's dad got out ahead of Sheryl, her mom and I, who got promoted to the front of the taxi line when they saw Sheryl's mom had a cane. I ended up having to do a quick negotiation with the cab driver (in my pidgin French) to figure out if we could accommodate Sheryl's dad and his luggage, as well as running up the queue to fetch Sheryl's dad. But we managed to wedge four people plus luggage in one cab and direct the cab driver to our hotel, the Hotel Pullman in Montparnasse.
Rested up a bit, then Sheryl and I and her parents walked down the street to Le Petit Sommelier, about which I had seen good TripAdvisor reviews. We had a table out on the restaurant's enclosed porch along the Avenue de Maine. The food was as good as advertised. I had a filet of veal flavored with citronelle and mushrooms and accompanied by a potato pancake. I made the requisite joke about being early for Hanukkah. Eventually, we were joined by Sheryl's brother and the rest of the clan, who had gone to check out the nearby location of Galeries Lafayette, a notable French chain of department stores.
Our main destination on Sunday was the Louvre, which I had visited with my dad back in 1981 but which nobody else in our crew had seen. For the first time on the trip, we obtained a wheelchair for Sheryl's mom, which was about the only way we'd have been able to cover much of the Louvre at all. Unfortunately, Sheryl's dad proved to be a poor driver. He ran the footplates into the back of my shins at least three times.
We started with the Mona Lisa, it being the star attraction despite not even being the largest or most impressive painting in the gallery it inhabits. (That would be the The Wedding Feast at Cana, which takes up a good portion of the opposing wall. Then we worked our way through several galleries of Italian paintings from the 13th to 16th centuries which included things like Minerva Expelling the Vices from the Garden of Virtue and The Combat of Love and Chastity, and a gallery or two of 19th century French paintings, which included The Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine on December 2, 1804.
My goal was to aim us towards the Winged Victory of Samothrace and the Venus de Milo, which I know are two of the other "greatest hits" of the Louvre. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the right combination of elevators or lifts to get us directly to either statue. We could see the Winged Victory from the top of a grand staircase outside the French galleries.
After a break for drinks from the Richelieu wing branch of the Cafés de la Pyramide, we continued to the Napoleon III apartments and the 19th century Decorative Arts galleries, which contain items from Napoleon I and Josephine. Those were my favorite parts; I have limited taste for paintings and sculpture (especially from the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance - a Jewish guy like me can only tolerate so many Madonna and Child paintings), but love all things architectural, including interior design/décor and furnishings. Especially where there are inlaid bronze and pearl, gold and gold leaf, intricate woodwork, and plush red carpets and upholstery in abundance to gawk at and admire.
We returned to the Cafés de la Pyramide for lunch, after which we left Sheryl's parents to make their way home and headed for the Musee de la Musique (note website is in French) in the Pont de Flandre neighborhood, up in the northeast corner of the city (19th Arrondissement). I had only recently learned about this museum from Mike Stein's LJ postings about his recent trip to France. (I am amused that this seems to be the season for filkers visiting France - Mike first, then Vixy and Fishy, then Sheryl and me.) The museum covers the development of musical instruments from the 17th century to modern times, focusing primarily on those related to Western European classical and opera music (e.g. violin, viola, guitar, flute, oboe, bassoon, harpsichord, clavier and piano). There was one gallery of instruments from other parts of the world (Asia and Africa), as well as a gallery dedicated to modern electronic music, which included a pair of original Moog synths (waves at Jim Poltrone) and a Hammond organ (waves at Maugorn), as well as a theremin.
We rejoined the rest of the clan back in Montparnasse and went for dinner at Le Paris Montparnasse Café, just down the street from the previous evening's restaurant. The café had gotten mixed reviews on TripAdvisor from some guests who reported poor service and/or surly waitstaff, but we found the waitstaff friendly and the food decent. (Though not as good as Le Petit Sommelier.) I had duck with a peach sauce and tagliatelle pasta. Sheryl's brother ordered a plate of escargot for the table, claiming our nephew had expressed an interest in trying them. I'm not sure our nephew was as enthusiastic about them after actually sampling one. Sheryl and I also chose to be adventurous. My conclusion? Similar to calamari and the like in consistency, but I think I'll stick to eating Cthulu.
Saturday was primarily devoted to herding the clan via the Eurostar to Paris. Before that, I took advantage of our location to spend an hour strolling around St. Paul's Cathedral. The rest of the family, being good Jews, deigned to spend any time in a church. But I was interested from both an architectural and historical perspective. Besides, I was worried my membership in the Connie Willis Fan Club would be revoked if it was discovered I'd been down the street from St. Paul's and didn't at least walk around the outside.
Came back just in time to check out, but it was still too early to cab over to the train station, so Sheryl and I and her parents hung out in the hotel bar for about an hour. I decided to get myself a pint of ale because it didn't seem right to leave England without downing a pint. I also figured I'd never hear the end of it if my friends (read: Sutton and Weingart) found out I went to England and didn't imbibe a drop of ale!
We got to St. Pancras Station about ninety minutes early for our train. I found us a Le Pain Quotidien along The Arcade that we could get sandwiches from. Then we joined the line for security and passport check, catching up with the rest of the Gere clan in the Eurostar departure lounge.
The train ride was decent, if a bit cramped. The Eurostar seats were clearly laid out by a refugee from a U.S. airline. There was not quite enough room in the facing pairs of seats for four sets of legs, especially early on when I had my backpack between my legs because the luggage racks were limited in space and we needed them for our suitcases. Eventually I realized I could stick the backpack and Sheryl's duffel bag in the space between pairs of back-to-back seats, which helped a bit. Luckily the journey was only a slight longer than two hours, and during our passage through the Chunnel we got up to get snacks from the club car. And really, I shouldn't complain too much about a train that can take you 300 miles in a little over two hours. I should enjoy the sort of train ride available in countries that believe constructing and operating high-speed rail service is a legitimate use of government funds.
Our arrival in Paris was a bit interesting. First, Sheryl's brother had managed to book us in what was identified as Coach 1, but which turned out to be the last car of the train. So it was a loooooong schlep all the way down the platform. Then we had to figure out how to get nine people plus luggage into cabs, which was made a bit more interesting as Sheryl's dad got out ahead of Sheryl, her mom and I, who got promoted to the front of the taxi line when they saw Sheryl's mom had a cane. I ended up having to do a quick negotiation with the cab driver (in my pidgin French) to figure out if we could accommodate Sheryl's dad and his luggage, as well as running up the queue to fetch Sheryl's dad. But we managed to wedge four people plus luggage in one cab and direct the cab driver to our hotel, the Hotel Pullman in Montparnasse.
Rested up a bit, then Sheryl and I and her parents walked down the street to Le Petit Sommelier, about which I had seen good TripAdvisor reviews. We had a table out on the restaurant's enclosed porch along the Avenue de Maine. The food was as good as advertised. I had a filet of veal flavored with citronelle and mushrooms and accompanied by a potato pancake. I made the requisite joke about being early for Hanukkah. Eventually, we were joined by Sheryl's brother and the rest of the clan, who had gone to check out the nearby location of Galeries Lafayette, a notable French chain of department stores.
Our main destination on Sunday was the Louvre, which I had visited with my dad back in 1981 but which nobody else in our crew had seen. For the first time on the trip, we obtained a wheelchair for Sheryl's mom, which was about the only way we'd have been able to cover much of the Louvre at all. Unfortunately, Sheryl's dad proved to be a poor driver. He ran the footplates into the back of my shins at least three times.
We started with the Mona Lisa, it being the star attraction despite not even being the largest or most impressive painting in the gallery it inhabits. (That would be the The Wedding Feast at Cana, which takes up a good portion of the opposing wall. Then we worked our way through several galleries of Italian paintings from the 13th to 16th centuries which included things like Minerva Expelling the Vices from the Garden of Virtue and The Combat of Love and Chastity, and a gallery or two of 19th century French paintings, which included The Consecration of the Emperor Napoleon and the Coronation of Empress Joséphine on December 2, 1804.
My goal was to aim us towards the Winged Victory of Samothrace and the Venus de Milo, which I know are two of the other "greatest hits" of the Louvre. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the right combination of elevators or lifts to get us directly to either statue. We could see the Winged Victory from the top of a grand staircase outside the French galleries.
After a break for drinks from the Richelieu wing branch of the Cafés de la Pyramide, we continued to the Napoleon III apartments and the 19th century Decorative Arts galleries, which contain items from Napoleon I and Josephine. Those were my favorite parts; I have limited taste for paintings and sculpture (especially from the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance - a Jewish guy like me can only tolerate so many Madonna and Child paintings), but love all things architectural, including interior design/décor and furnishings. Especially where there are inlaid bronze and pearl, gold and gold leaf, intricate woodwork, and plush red carpets and upholstery in abundance to gawk at and admire.
We returned to the Cafés de la Pyramide for lunch, after which we left Sheryl's parents to make their way home and headed for the Musee de la Musique (note website is in French) in the Pont de Flandre neighborhood, up in the northeast corner of the city (19th Arrondissement). I had only recently learned about this museum from Mike Stein's LJ postings about his recent trip to France. (I am amused that this seems to be the season for filkers visiting France - Mike first, then Vixy and Fishy, then Sheryl and me.) The museum covers the development of musical instruments from the 17th century to modern times, focusing primarily on those related to Western European classical and opera music (e.g. violin, viola, guitar, flute, oboe, bassoon, harpsichord, clavier and piano). There was one gallery of instruments from other parts of the world (Asia and Africa), as well as a gallery dedicated to modern electronic music, which included a pair of original Moog synths (waves at Jim Poltrone) and a Hammond organ (waves at Maugorn), as well as a theremin.
We rejoined the rest of the clan back in Montparnasse and went for dinner at Le Paris Montparnasse Café, just down the street from the previous evening's restaurant. The café had gotten mixed reviews on TripAdvisor from some guests who reported poor service and/or surly waitstaff, but we found the waitstaff friendly and the food decent. (Though not as good as Le Petit Sommelier.) I had duck with a peach sauce and tagliatelle pasta. Sheryl's brother ordered a plate of escargot for the table, claiming our nephew had expressed an interest in trying them. I'm not sure our nephew was as enthusiastic about them after actually sampling one. Sheryl and I also chose to be adventurous. My conclusion? Similar to calamari and the like in consistency, but I think I'll stick to eating Cthulu.