sybarites

I’m a map junkie, much to Janet’s annoyance. I stop at every second block to corellate our physical location to the map. So you can image my excitement at visiting the Museum of Maps and Models in Paris. In fact, there was a map to the museum where I received a map of the museum of maps! It was almost too much.

Actually, Museum of Maps and Models is a poor translation. Relief maps or 3-D maps would be more accurate. They are all 18th  century model fortresses and their surrounding landscapes—used by military planners to evaluate weakness and plan defences. Some of the models were a few feet square and others must have been ten or twelve feet square, all excuisitly detailed with buildings, trees, brickwork, rivers and fences.

Things I Never Expected To Do or See; Volume II:

• watch a man carefully place his Pomeranian on top of a station turnstyle in order to feed it from his hands (Florence);
• see a police force mobilized by segways (Florence);
• see a woman train her dog to panhandle by getting it to ‘beg’ over a small bucket of change (Paris);
• darn a hole in a pair of socks for which I paid a dollar;
• run, so as not to miss Act I of the opera in Vienna;
• stay in a room with a balcony over a canal in Venice;

• drink, for lack of anything else, cheap, warm vodka and water;
• ride on 13 different metro systems in 13 cities;
• invent a form of cribbage board using ribbon and safety pins;
• see human skulls and femurs arranged to form an attractive rainbow pattern (catacombs in Paris);
• take this picture;

• play a game of cards where the loser has to wash the winner’s socks by hand;
• eat Italian food in Korea and Korean food in Italy.

The crusades may not have captured the holy lands, but holy knights returned with hordes of relics. John Calvin famously remarked that there were enough pieces of the True Cross to build a ship from. Of course, cathedrals must be built at great expense to house such relics because you don’t put the Crown of Thorns in a shoe box in the back of your closet.

From 1246 to 1251, Sainte Chapelle was built to house the Crown of Thorns, two pieces from the True Cross, and the Roman lance that pierced the side of Christ. The relics may be litter off the battlefield, but the church is priceless. It made me wonder why Notre Dame was built when there was such a center of awe just down the road.

We first entered the lower chapel for the servants of the palace. The warm light and walls beautifully contrasted with the velvety blue ceiling, spotted with gold fleur-de-lis.

A small spiral staircase opens to the airy upper chapel. The thin columns and stained glass made me wonder how the roof was supported. The walls were almost entirely glass. The atmosphere in the chapel changed as the clouds passed over head. I spent a lot of time looking up the ceiling covered with stars.

Apparently there were still boxes of these relics laying around in the 20th Century. Sacre Coeur, when it was completed in 1919, finally provided a home for a piece of Jesus’ heart.

We were exceedingly lucky to have met some new friends in Siberia: Sophie and Fabrice Page. At the time, they were generous enough to offer to let us stay a few nights with them in Paris when we arrived. We happily took them up on the offer because we are, in point of fact, generally friendless and always happy to gain some local know-how.

The Pages live in Bazemont, a small village West of Paris, so we were able to visit a small market, eat fresh croissants and bread from the village bakery (thanks to Sophie’s early morning run) and taste vegetables fresh from the garden for lunch, along with BBQ ribs. One major highlight was the six different kinds of cheese they had procured in anticipation of our visit. (My reputation as a cheese fiend preceeds me.) We tasted Roquefort, Comte, Camembert, chevre, Roucoulou, and blue. And if that decadence wasn’t enough, we also comandeered the kitchen to make Marc’s favourtie dessert: Lemon Cakes with Lemon Basil Syrup.

The first night we arrived in Paris, Fabrice arranged to take us to a classic, old, French brasserie on the left bank where we ate duck, lamb, roasted chicken, cheseses and desserts; not to mention the wine, which was exceptional.

Sophie and Fabrice also introduced us to gallettes, which one takes with cider, and crepes with chocolate and peach jam. And, as a piece de resistance, they drove us up to the North coast in their Audi TT where we ate a tasty seafood lunch and strolled the beaches of Normandy. We were close to Juno beach, where the Canadians landed in 1944. And in Cabourg, we learned what a “Monaco” drink is: half lemonade, half beer, splash of grenadine. See below.

When we set off on our own in Paris, the first thing we did was indulge in a bed-picnic of bread and cheese.

There have been Eiffel Tower picnics since then- we just don’t have pictures of them.

I didn’t expect the Eiffel Tower to impress me. The first night we were in Paris, our friends Sophie & Fabrice drove us past while it shimmered like a spinning diamond. For a celebratory event, thousands of flashing lights were temporarily installed. Everyone liked it so much that it is now a permanent feature. At 9:00, 10:00, and 11:00 in the evening the lights give the appearance of a shimmering gemstone for ten minutes.

Regardless of the bling bling, the Eiffel Tower is impressive, and not in a Fort McMurray tourism sort of way. It is beautiful. Each angle and variance of light provides new appreciation for its subtleties. It also seems immense when standing underneath the sprawling legs. The lack of tall buildings nearby enlarges it even more and makes the view quite impressive. Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge was a little boring in comparison.