Thursday, February 8, 2024

Our third and final stay

We are now in Soufriere, our third location on the island. Once again we are in a room virtually on the beach, just a few steps away. We found this place, Still Beach Cottages, on airbnb, as we did our place in Laborie. Unlike the other places, this is just a room, rather than a place with separate bedroom, living room, and kitchen. We do have a refrigerator, a microwave, and a hotwater pot. It's a little less convenient but as we have been eating breakfast and lunch at home, and dinner out, at each location, it's not that much of a problem. We have been having cereal with yogurt or milk, and bananas, at each location for breakfast, and usually crackers with cheese and cucumbers and/or tomatoes for lunch, at each stop. So the lack of kitchen isn't really a problem. It's more the lack of more space, and having to wash dishes in the bathroom sink, etc. that makes it a little less pleasant. But we do have a nice porch facing the beach and the impressive Petit Piton. So it's still a great location. This is our sixth night here, and we have only one more night after tonight before heading home. There is a restaurant right below us, and many more in town which we can walk to along the beach. We ate dinner here our first night, and plan to again tonite. Tomorrow, our last night, we plan to return to the place we have liked has the best of the several restaurants we've been to. It's called JenMwen and has some tables right on the water as well as indoors and an upper level, The first night we ate there we went upstairs, not realizing they had tables on the beach. I had seafood alfredo, and asked for light on the sauce, which was delicious. It was mostly conch and octopus with some tiny shrimp. Loring had pork ribs. He had noticed a wood fired pizza oven, and we went back a couple of days later to have pizza. But it turned out that the kitchen was closed on Mondays. So we went back l1qast night and shared a delicious pizza. We ordered a vegetarian pizza with bacon and sausage. A funny order but we wanted lots of veggies as well as meat. It was fantastic. I am not a big pizza fan but thought this was delicous. Or maybe it's the environment and everything tastes wonderful. But I dont think so. Monday when JenWhen was closed, we wound up at a place we had walked by, a block back from the beach. We thought it was a small hole in the wall local place, but when we went in the only table was occupied by another foreign (ie white) couple. And it turned out there was a large room in the back and a group of white people in there, which left shortly after we arrived. I ordered conch, which they call lambi here. The only other place I can remember eating it was in the Bahamas, many years ago. It's kind of tough, and we had to pound it fiercely to tenderize it when we cooked it ourselves. When out, we ate it in the form of conch fritters. I haven't seen any evidence of conch fritters here, but cooked in sauce, usally garlic butter, or in the alfredo I'd had. That night she asked if I wanted it in the garlic butter, or in a locally made sauce that was kind of like vinegrette. I opted for the latter. Then, a bit later, she came from the kitchen to ask if it was okay with me to have chicken lasagna as one of the sides. Since I'd orderd seafood, she wanted to make sure it was okay with me to have chicken. All meals here, other than the pizza and the pasta, are served with a number of sides. These are usually rice, plantains, salad, and one or two others. That night, macaroni pie had been one of the sides. But they'd run out, and the chicken lasagna was the replacement. The meal was so plentiful that I took probably half of it home and had it for lunch the next day. I'd done that a couple of times before. Food here is much more expensive than I would have expected. The meals hover in the $20 to $26 dollar range, not that much less than at home. Tonight, a little later, we are heading to our restaurant here, a few steps away. We ate here the afirst night but have eaten elsewhere since. There's a large lunch buffet here every day, and a number of groups of tourists come here as part of their tours. But as we tend to have our large meal in the evening, we haven't tri2ed it. I did look one day, and it seems to be similar to the choices we have at dinner wherever we go. One meal we have not had is what we've read is the national dish, green figs with, I think, rice. The green figs, though, are actually some kind of banana. Bananas aare more than plentiful here. We've passed large banana farms, or plantations, not sure what they call them. And then there are plantains, which are similar to bananas but not sweet, and are served fried or sauteed as a side dish. We've had plenty of those, at most every dinner. But I hope we have a chance to try the green fig dish before we leave. *************** And now it is Thursday and our last night on the island. Most days, here and in our two previous locations in St. Lucia, we have spent much of our time on the beach and/or in the water. For Loring, that means a snorkel or swim, for me bobbing in the waves. Luckily, at all three locations, the beaches have been sandy, as has the ocean bottom, and the waves gentle. For the most of our trip, I have had my favorite water toy, my underwater mp3 player. It has lasted longer than any of my previous ones. I think this is number five, and they have usually lasted about two or three years. I use it often at the Y. It just decided to stop working yesterday, so I feel pretty lucky. Time to order a new one! The days have had a similar rhythm, breakfast on our porch, an hour or two reading, down to the beach for another hour or so of reading until it's too hot and time for a swim. Then back to the house for lunch, more reading, another beach stay, reading or rummy or writing, a rum cocktail, then dinner at that night's choice of restaurant, usually on the water. We have only gone on a couple of excursions, although there are plenty offered. Tour folks offer packages that go to several island spots all on the same day, not only from here but also from Castries, on the northern part of the island where we first stayed. We went to the jungle tram ride from there, which I've already written about and recommend. In Laborie we stayed mainly on the beach and walked around the small town. A couple of events there, but they weren't aimedd at tourists, just a gospel service at the Catholic Church and a town event rededicating the market area with lots of speeches by polititians including the prime minister. Here we've gone, yesterday, to the mud baths not far from town. They're at a volcano, where you can walk a brief trail to see the bubbling hot mud. The temperature there is boiling, and the site impressive. The baths are lower down and the water is much cooler. You soak in the pool, then plaster your body with the mud, let it dry, and then plunge back into the pool to rinse off. It was a great experience, and we are glad we got there when they opened in the morning, before the groups from the cruise ships and other tour groups arrived. We arrived before the official 9am opening and they were already open. There were folks already there, most of whom seemed locals. We were the only white people there, although once we were covered with mud we were all about the same color. By the time we left, there were more and more tourists arriving. The baths are supposedly therapeutic, and some swear that the mud takes about 10 years off your looks. I don't know but it was great fun and I highly recommend. This morning we went to another set of baths just outside of town. Both sets of baths are fed by the volcano. Again, the suppossed opening was at 10am but they were open when we got there about 930. This place is a combination of botanical garden, a beautiful waterfall, and thermal baths. No mud this time, just delightful warm water, very relaxing, and surrounded by all kinds of tropical flowers and plants. The baths were originally constructed by the French in the 1700's. Later abandoned, then bought and restored by a man in the 20th century, for his own private use. Later on, his daughter created or restored the gardens and opened the place to the public. (for a fee, as with the mud baths, which is fine.) At the mudbaths, Lucian pay a lower fee, as they should. Not sure if that is also true at the other baths, but I hope so. We'd been told we needed just 20 minutes to a half hour to visit. We realized that's because the tours just walk people thru, without using the baths. And indeed, a number of groups came thru during the latter part of our stay, and just walked past the baths. There's a short walk to the waterfall, which by the way is featured in a scene in Superman II, which I guess we'll now have to rent and watch. The groups visit the mud baths and hot baths the same day, along with several other stops, including lunch. We are awfully glad we did them the way we did, separately. But I guess if you are on a cruise ship, or a daylong tour from the north, that doesn't work. But if you visit St. Lucia, make sure to make time for both sets of baths, ideally on two different days, depending from where on the island you are coming. We've pretty much come to the end of our stay, one more dinner, one more swim after breakfast tomorrow, and then off to the airport. It's been an excellent trip.

Sunday, February 4, 2024

Laborie and off to Soufriere

Now it is Tuesday. We’ve just had lunch, on our expansive porch. The other family, four from Toronto, have left, and we expect there will be others arriving later today. The folks in both apartments share the porch and infinity pool, although it is right outside the owners’ apt, now ours. So we just have to step outside our living room to be on the porch. There are lounge chairs as well as a couple of tables and chairs. That’s where I am sitting and writing now. As of this morning the fridge in the downstairs apt where we were originally has not been fixed. Hopefully for the owner they will have it fixed by Friday, when we leave. But for the new occupants, it might be better if they don’t fix it, then they, like we, will have the bigger and nicer apartment. Loring has just gone out to get a few more grocery supplies. He has already been out for one swim this morning, and will no doubt go for another one later this afternoon. He gets fidgety if he sits around for too long. I, on the other hand, can sit on the porch, here and also at home, for great portions of the day. We haven’t done too much here, aside from walk around the little town, walk down the beach, go in the ocean, go in the pool, play rummy, read, and for me, write. And that’s just fine. We did have an interesting experience the day we arrived here. It was a service, or at least a gathering, at the Catholic Church just a couple of blocks from here. The only way we knew about it was because of a chance connection between an old friend from the Bronx (who I have only been in touch with thru fb, and very sporadically) and a friend of his. He saw my first fb post saying that I was in St. Lucia, and wrote that he had friends who spent several months here every year and were involved in the music scene. He contacted them and found out that they are in Laborie right now. I don’t know if we will actually meet up with them. But the woman, Neti, wrote that there was a gospel event at the church the day we arrived. Indeed there was. We’d been told the event began at 6pm, so we headed there after dinner at Mama Tillie’s. But things were already in full swing. There was a man, an mc of sorts, who spoke and sang and had the audience singing and chanting and dancing with him. If he was a Catholic priest, he was certainly not like any priest I’ve ever come across. I am guessing that it wasn’t a Catholic event, per se, but just using the church, but who knows. It was certainly a religious event, with Jesus being invoked frequently. Neti, the friend of our NY friend, had said that there really wasn’t much of a music scene, and what there was was mostly at the resorts. So it’s uncertain whether we will come across any more live music. Meanwhile, we’ve got reggae blasting from some locals on the beach right in front of our porch. Accompanied, appropriately, by the strong smell of weed. And yesterday when we were on the beach there was obnoxoiusly loud recorded music coming from a house down the beach, which we could estill hear from our porch when we got back here. We’ve eaten breakfast and lunch here, and supper out every night, so far at Mama Tillie’s. We do want to go to Mama Rosa’s, hopefully tonite. She has only been open for breakfast and lunch since we arrived, but is supposed to be open for dinner tonight. Now to decide – back to the pool, or off to the beach? Tough choice. Actually, no bad choice. And we will certainly do both this afternoon.

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Choc and onto Laborie

We have now moved on to our second locale, in the village of Laborie. We are here for five days, which is all that this place was available for. It was quite a challenge to match up the various availabiities of places along with the fact that Jet Blue only flies directly here from Boston once a week, on Fridays. But we eventually figured it all out. After our stay here we will move along to our last stop, in Soufriere, at the very south of the island,for our final week in St. Lucia. The island is fairly small , and we could have done day trips to most of the places we want to visit, which I think most visitors do. But we are happy to have done it this way, and have several different experiences and views of the country. Laborie is rather different from Choc, north of Castries, where we spent the previous nine days. Here we are in a village, with some but pretty few tourists. We are staying at a house, an airbnb. The house is directly on the beach, as we prefer. There are two rental apartments and the owner’s larger apartment. The rentals face the street, and are on the ground floor. Upstairs is the owner’s place, an infinity pool, and a large deck with lounge chairs, and a couple of ables. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, our refrigerator didn’t work. A guy came last night to repair it, but it still didn’t work this morning. So now they have moved us to the owner’s apartment, which faces the ocean, and is much nicer. Now, however, the ac isn’t working well. Only the bedroom has ac, and it won’t cool the living room as it did in our first apartment because the living room/kitche/dining room is huge! The same guy who came to fix the fridge yesterday is coming later today to try again and see if he can fix the fridge and/or the ac. It's hard to complain, though, given the beauty of the place. At the Beach Villas in Choc, where we stayed previously, it was beautiful. The only complaint was that it is difficult to walk anywhere. There is a supermarket just a ten minute walk away, but part of the walk there is no sidewalk, and it’s a fairly major road, so a little treacherous. I did it once with Loring, and we took a cab back with our groceries. The second grocery run Loring did alone, walking both ways. There There, our main interractions were with other couples, must of whom were roughly our age. Some were from the US, some from Canada, some from England. Although there are over 20 cottages, we saw relatively few of the other guests. We took cabs a couple of times to restaurants, which made the meals pretty expensive. I felt that all the staff was extremely friendly. That is often true in places like this. But I felt that it was a different kind of friendliness here, with the staff seemingly very at ease and on a par with us as guests, taking the time to talk to us, ask us questions and tell us about themselves. I don’t know if it is particularly that place, and something the owner cultivates, or is it something in the St. Lucia psyche. Pamela, the cook, was exceedinly friendly and also sang a lot, which we got treated to more than most because our cottage is right next to the kitchen. The owner, Colin Hunte, is quite the character himself. He gave us an orientation, as he does for every guest, a detailed history and description of the island and his own history. It must have taken at least a half hour, maybe closer to an hour, and was fascinating. He had introduced himself as the manager, but was clearly also the owner, and I asked him if there was a areason he introduced himself as one raather than the other. There was, he explained. In St Lucia the owner is usually referred to as the boss, and he didn’t like the connotation that he was superior to his employees. I wonder if his employees feel like there is a difference between boss and manager. Maybe there is. He told us about his othe property, closer to here, which is a plantation whose land has been in his family for generations. He had the idea to turn it into a cacao plantation, but needed his grandmother’s permission. She refused, because she wanted him to have a professional job, not be a farmer or in the tourist business. But he persisted and eventually prevailed. Now it is a working plantation which works with another local buisiness to make chocolate. They give tours of the plantation, which we will hopefully take one day soon. They also have several rooms, and some guests combine a visit to both the beach villas and the plantation. There is a small island close to the villas, and we took a kayak out there one day. From Colin we heard about an idea that he had originally had, to turn the island into a music venue.( not sure how that would have worked.) He shared the idea with his friend, the emininent poet and Nobel Prize winner Derek Walcott, the country’s most famous citizen. Next he knew, Colin said, Walcott was announcing the concept on tv as his idea. But that was okay, said Colin, because it was the concept that mattered, not who had origianlly conceived of ot. ( But we had the sense that it did, to some extent, matter that he wasn’t given credit. ) Going on with the story, he described Walcott coming into town with a short man, who I somehow guessed right away was Paul Simon. Colin was suitably impressed, as I was with myself! But here’s the best part: he went on to say that Walcott was working with Simon on a Broadway play, and Loring and I said, in unison, Capeman. Capeman was a play written by Simon and Walcott, that we saw in Broadway in the 1990’s. Ver few people did, because the play was panned by the critics and closed, according to Wikepdia, after 68 performances, But we actually liked it, and especially the music. Again according to Wikipedia, the play has been revived a couple of times, in a much scaled down production, to about 90 minutes from the original three hours! And one of those productions was directed by Diane Paulus, current director of the ART Theatre in Cambridge, Ma, where we have seen many plays, including some that went on to Broadway. We met her briefly, recently, at a performance of their production of Evita, which I thought was brilliant. I told her I was ready to see it again, immediately. And I recently read that her dissertation was about the Living Theater. The avant garde theater company that greatly influenced my life when I was 18 and 19. I think I am going to contact her to ask if I can read her dissertation. Well, back to the present and our experiences here in Laborie. It’s a real village, with some tourists but not a single souvenir shop to be found. There are a few tiny restaurants, Miss Tillie’s where we’ve had dinner our two nght here, and Miss Rosa’s where I think we’ll go tonite. She hasn’t been open for dinner the last couple of days, just for breakfast and lunch. At Miss Tillie’s we had barbequed chicken and ribs the first night, along with a number of sides, and last night we both had fish, which was tuna. Tonight she is supposed to have octopus and lobster, and conch, which they call lambi here. And there are a couple of grocery stores, but they have minimal supplies. Lots of bananas in town, in the stores and from vendors on the street. The architecture here is appealing, with lots of wooden buildings, some with gingerbread details. Some are brightly painted and in good shape, others look abandoned but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people living in at least some of them. There is a bank but no ATMs and most places don’t take credit cards. So far we are okay with our cash but that may not last for the three more days we are here, so we may need to make a trip into the nearby bigger town, Vieux Fort. Many of the names here are French, and the Creole they speak is also French based. But people don’t speak French, but English, with a delightful Carribean accent. The country was alternately owned by England and France and changed hands numerous times. I guess the names were given during one or more of the French periods. I am reading, and Loring has already read, two books that take place right here, in Laborie and Vieux Fort, by a writer who grew up here. We always try to find literature to read that take place where we are visiting. But it is seldom that we find something quite as local as this. The one I just finished was beautifully written, and I expect the second one will be too. The author is Anderson Reynolds and the books are The Stall Keeper and Death by Fire.

Wednesday, January 24, 2024

Sojourn in St. Lucia

Stlucia Jan 2024 We are in St. Lucia, an island nation in the Caribbean. We have been here for four or five days, I’ve lost count as one tends to do on islands on vacation. We chose this island because we were looking for an easy travel without connections, to a warm place of course, since it is January. I must admit that I have been loath, in the past, t visit a number of Caribbena locations, this one included, because of a somewhat false impression that they are overdeveloped, cruise port and all inclusive resort destinations. (which they are.) But what I haven’t realized until recent years that they are much more than that, and that it is possible to find wonderful locations far from the madding crowds. In recent years we have visited Puerto Rico, the Domincan Republic, and now here, and have been able to find locations that are away from the overtouristed places that we aren’t interested in. Our current abode is a place called Villa Beach Cottages in Choc, just north of the capital, Castries. Even though just down the beach from us is Sandals, one of the all inclusive resorts, we are harely aware of it. There are a few folks on the beach, but most seem to spend their time in the inner reaches of the resort. We have noticed folks sauntering down the beach past us, drinks in hand, sometimes in the water and can identify them as Sandals customers. But they apparently spend much if not most of their time elsewhere than on the beach. We have noticed that most people, not just at Sandals but at our cottages as well, do not spend much if any time in the water. It intrigues us that people go to ocean resorts but do not spend much, if any, time in the ocean. I guess it is just the view that appeals to many people. And the views are certainly spectacular. So, some words about our little resort. This is the first of three places we are staying on the island, here for the first nine days of our three weeks in St. Lucia. After poring over numerous listings on line, this was one of our final choices, and we chose well. There are 22 cottages here, all with kitchens. We like to find places where we can cook when we like, not having to eat every meal out. Sixteen, if I have counted right, directly face the ocean. Each building has two cottages, an upper and lower floor. We are on the first floor, which we highly rcommend if you choose to come here. We can walk out to the beach in a few steps. The upper apartments have the same view, but have to walk downstairs and around the building to get to the beach. Still nice but not quite as nice as ours. So if you are thinking of coming, do ask for one of the bottom level accomodations facing the ocean.There are a few rooms that face the parking lot and street, which I don’t recommend. Our time has been relaxed, with perhaps one “event” each day. Today we went to the aerial tram in the rainforest. We were a little concerned thaat it would be overtouristed and even tacky. But it was in fact a great excursion. Each gondola holds eight people. Although there were only six in ours. The trip over the forest canopy is leisurely, and lasts about an hour. During the trip our guide Tammi identified many plants for us. We were about 1200 feet above the forest floor for most of the trip. It is not a thrill type trip, but very calm, and recommended for anyone who doesn’t have a fear of heights. They also have a zipline which many visitors opt to do. But not us. Loring and the kids did one years ago in Nicaragua, and once was fine with him. And zero times was enough for me. I have never been a fan of thrill type experiences, not roller coasters or such, even when I was much younger. Strangely, of the six of us in our gondola, five were from Massachusetts. One couple was from Newton, another person was from the Cape, and just one was from one of the Carolinas. When we returned from the rainforest, a couple of hours lounging then offer dinner at a restaurant called a Flavors of the Grill, a more local place that was not in the water, that we hoped would be more casual and less expensive. It wasn’t, through. I've been astounded at the restaurant prices here, comparable to those at home. And we don’t eat out at home much because we don’t think it’s worth it. Plus we need to take a cab wherever we go, because we didn’t rent a car. The roads here are pretty winding, but the major factor is that they drive on the left side here. Some places we’ve stayed in the past are walking distance from beach restaurants, shops, etc. But that isn't the case here. The cabs are expensive too, it cost us $20, each way, to go too the restaurant (the Spinnaker ) a couple of nights ago. This afternoon we are having lunch at the Pink Plantation, a former plantation now a restaurant and small inn, having three rooms. They have spectaculare views of the capital city, Castries. And it looks like they have some interesting art work there too. I’ll report back later. Back for a minute to the Flavors of the Grill. The food was excellent, but the service was extremely slow. Not sure what the problem was. I had ordered conch, which I have rarely seen on a menu other than in the Bahamas, where we spent a lot of time eons ago. ( ie 50 years ago, yikes!) Those sojourns are a story in themselves, ask if you want to hear more. So I was really excited to see it on the menu. Conch, if you aren’t familiar, are the giant snail -like creatures that inhabit the beautiful large shells with bright pink interiors.But, as luck will not have it, they didn’t have any conch that night. So I had to settle for shrimp in curry sauce instead. Poor me, I know. Maybe I’ll find some elsewhere before we leave the island. I haven’t mentioned the beach yet. It is beautiful,although narrorw, and really just a few steps from our cottage. The water is quite calm, or rather has been until today. I will therefore most likely not go in today, but who knows. Until now the waves have been very gentle. The bottom is sandy. So I am content to float around and listen to music on my underwater mp3 player. This has been one of my favorite things to do in the water for years now. I can float around, or dance around in the water to Bruce, or Linda R. or bellydance music, and do so often in the Y pool at home. The only problem is that a few times lifeguards have wondered if I am drowning. That says a lot about how graceful I must look. The music is conducted thru your cheekbones, and the quality is surprisingly good when you are underwater, and pretty good when your head is out of the water once you have gotten it wet. While I float around Loring swims, way out and around. He is a big swimmer, and part of finding a place to go in the winter is someplace on the ocean where he can swim. This place certainly fits the bill. And hopefully our other two stops on the island will as well, for both of us. The money here is confusing because the use the same $ symbol we do. So looking at a menu you have to decide first if it is US dollars or EC, East Carribean, which is used by several countries in the area. One US dollar is worth about 2.7 EC dollars. There is a kitchen and small restaurant here, in addition to the ones in the cottages. They do serve breakfast, lunch and dinner, but you have to order it in advance. Our first day here they were able to make dinner for us, which was great. There were three choices, fish, or chicken cooked in curry, or creole. There are numerous sides, including mashed potatoes, plantains, rice, root vegetables, and salad, and you get your choice of four! I first saw the price on the menu as $50, and was shocked. But later on, when I saw menu prices elsewhere, I realized that it was EC dollars and that the food was just about a third of what I’d thought. However, when we had dinner here last night, I looked at the menu again, and it clearly said $50 US dollars. And since everything is being charged to the room, we don’t know which dollars we are being charged. We had breakfast here yesterday. Other than that we’ve been eating yogurt with “Rainforest Granola” and bananas. And we’v e been having cheese and crackers with cucumbers, and cookies for most lunches. Today we will have lunch at the aforementioned Pink Plantation, which only serves lunch, and will either have our usual cheese and crackers in the evening, or not have dinner at all. It has rained every day we are here, but intermittenly and briefly and has also created some beautiful rainbows. I don’t mind it at all, and it seems every time it’s rained we have been on or near our porch, so we don’t get very wet. If I got caught in a downpour away from the cottage, I might feel differently. Or not. TBC

Thursday, October 19, 2023

This afternoon, I didn’t even go out until after Marie left. When I did, I didn’t have any particular agenda, just more flaneuring. I didn’t want to go to another museum, was feeling pretty museumed out. I did want to buy a beret at one of the souvenir shops, something I’d never had the inclination to do in the past. I do like hats, would never wear a beret here, but will surely wear it at home. And then I just wandered through the Palais Royale gardens, which I don’t think I’d ever been to before. And into one of the little covered passages that are like the original shopping malls, but very beautiful. I stumbled upon Galerie Vivienne, which I had been to on a previous trip. Found a wonderful store that just sold paper flowers, beautiful ones, of all colors and sizes. The store itself was beautiful, especially from outside it, with the wonderful original mosaic floor of the Galerie. I bought a couple of small buds in purples and greens, with the intention of using them to make hatpins for my new berets! (yes, I confess I bought two, a purple one and a green.) Made in China, but I am not going for authenticity here. And I discovered a couple more beautiful little stores - a very nice toy store, and a store that made and sold exquisite and expensive miniatures of all kinds. There were many military type figures, but also cars, comic book characters, a Monet in his Giverny garden with the Japanese bridge, even a Josephine Baker in her famous banana skirt which had been discussed at The American University Josephine Baker symposium. And also some of the grotesque creatures depicted In Hieronymus Bosch’s paintings. Oh, and one of Trump holding a MAGA sign. I was good and didn’t buy any, but if they were much less than the 40 and plus euros each one cost, I probably would have. time to head home, back here to my abode for the last two weeks. I tried to eat as much food as I had left in the house, and succeeded in eating most of it – a half grapefruit, some smoked trout, some camembert, a half baguette Marie had picked up this morning, and a little of the very rich, delicious almond chocolate croissant she’d also picked up at the local bakery where I’ve been buying my baguettes and patisseries. Did I mention the raspberry eclairs I discovered this trip? With fresh raspberries of course. I sat out on the balcony eating the last of my Paris food and waiting for dark and for the illuminated Eiffel Tower. You can’t see it from the street, and I don’t think you can see it from most of the neighborhood apartments either. One would have to be on one of the higher floors, like this converted maid’s room I’m in. And you’d have to have a balcony too. I wonder if most people in the fancy abodes below know that you can see it from some of the high up lower rent district apartments like mine. I think I’ve seen my last of the Eiffel Tower alight. I am exhausted and ready to go to bed. And also have to wake up early to make sure to get to the airport on time and fly back to Barcelona. Not that I want to leave. Maybe I'll miss my flight. Last night abroad: I went back to the same hotel I’d stayed at with the mosaic group. It was a nice place with a wonderful breakfast buffet. And I was able . And I was able to leave my mosaic pieces and a few other things there while I went to Paris. It’s the Astoria Hotel, if anyone is looking for a Barcelona accommodation. It was about a fifteen minute walk from Livia’s mosaic studio, where we worked every morning, and also in walking distance of the Casas Battlo and Mila. I’d hoped to go to the Picasso Museum, but in fact was exhausted when I arrived at the hotel, even though it was still midafternoon. So I wound up sleeping the afternoon away. In the evening I went out for a walk, and then back to the same little outdoor café where I’d eaten the evening I’d originally arrived for the mosaic program. It was on the corner of the street the hotel was on, just a few doors away, and my tapas there and superb chocolate dessert (like a chocolate molten lava cake on steroids) were the perfect way to end my stay
I am sitting in my little studio which is wonderful, especially with its little balconies and view of the tower. I have tried to watch it light up every night but somehow missed the night it was lit up in blue and white in tribute to Israel having been attacked by Hamas a few days ago. The situation is still volatile, with Hamas threatening to kill Israeli hostages, of which there seem to be over 150 including children, for each attack by Israel, which has declared war on Hamas. I am actually surprised, though, by the strength in which France, the US, and other countries have come out in support of Israel, given how much criticism it has come under for its treatment of Palestinians. Yes, the violence is an atrocity, but is the Israeli government response much better? Today is my next to last day here. I have felt guilty just spending time in my little apartment, but have now convinced myself that it’s just as valid an experience hanging out here as wandering around the city. My only complaint is that it’s too hot! Really, in October. This is a very sunny apartment, and I have to keep moving around and moving tables and desk around to find a shady place. This apartment was once what they called a chambre de bonne, or maid’s room. They are small rooms that used to belong to the owners of the apartments below, with a separate back staircase leading up to them. Now they have become chic studios, or in some cases, student rooms, or so I’ve read. I once lived in one, in 1969 or 70. I remember my parents coming to visit. I’m sure they were shocked by the primitive conditions, although I don’t remember them saying so. I had only the room. The toilet was out in the hall, shared by all the rooms on the floor. I remember a family lived in two rooms next door, but don’t remember interacting with them. I don’t remember where I took showers. It must have been at school. I ate lunch at school, and probably just bread or patisseries for other meals. My friend Marie is coming in about an hour. We have been friends since college here. She was partly raised in the US, partly in Europe. She’d gone to high school at the American School in Madrid, where her father was the headmaster. Before that, he’d been headmaster at the Choate school in the US. She lives in Beaulieu, in the Loire valley, a tiny quaint town. She’d been an English teacher, is now retired. She is actually on her way to the US for a memorial service for her brother, although her other siblings still live in France. And her daughters, and grandchildren, live in England. We have managed to stay in touch all this time, although have just seen each other sporadically, mostly here in France. She did come to our wedding party in NY, though, bringing her youngest daughter, who was an infant at the time. I carried her baby into the party, wanting to shock my parents’ friends into thinking she was my baby. And I think I did, at least one or two. Really immature of me, I think now, especially since I was already 30 years old at the time. Marie will only be here around 24 hours. She has to depart about the same time tomorrow for the US. So it was really lucky that we were able to coordinate, since I am leaving just a day later. Yesterday, I went to see the badly damaged Notre Dame, being reconstructed for the last four years since the fire in 2019. They intend to have it finished next year, in time for the Olympics. I was expecting to get a small view and feel sad about the tragedy. But my reaction was different. I was overwhelmingly impressed by the scope of the project, with huge amounts of scaffolding and at least six cranes that I could see. Even though I’d seen a documentary on tv detailing the work of the restoration specialists, including finding trees to replace those burnt, and all kinds of ways they were reproducing the ancient techniques with which the cathedral was originally built in the middle ages. It just made me appreciate more all the work that was done to originally build the place, and respect all the work being done now even more. In a way, although it sounds strange, I feel like I appreciated the place even more than before it was damaged. I sat in one place for probably an hour, watching the cranes move and looking at the tiny workers high up on the scaffolding. I could have stayed even longer. I had deliberately gone to close to the place where I sat with a friend, Dieter, another student at the school, many decades ago, before dawn and similarly just stared at the cathedral. It was 1969 and I don’t remember how long we were there and what we’d done earlier that night. But I can guess we were high on hashish. The cathedral was in the process of being cleaned, a procedure that took a number of years, having become quite black over the centuries. We sat at the edge of the Seine. The side we were facing, and that I was facing yesterday, was still black, but the one around to the left had already been cleaned. At that time, I guess people had only known the cathedral as black. It must have been quite amazing to see it become white. And now most people only know it as white. Unless they are my age or older. I often think of Dieter. He became addicted to drugs, heroin I think, and as far as I can remember, joined the army because he thought he could obtain drugs more easily. I don’t know if that was true, or even if that was really the reason, or main reason, that he did enlist. I saw him once when he was on leave, and he told me about being a helicopter gunner, his job to knock off the people that tried to escape by clinging to the bottom of the helicopter as it took off. It’s now two days later, and my last night in Paris. I fly back to Barcelona tomorrow for one night, and then to Boston via London the next day. Loring has emerged from his adventures in the wilderness. I heard from him this morning. We will have lots of stories to trade when we see each other in a couple of days. Marie has come and gone. We met up yesterday afternoon at a café down the street from my apartment, right at the metro station. She had somehow gotten lost once she got to the train station in Paris and was quite late. She was pretty frustrated. I was fine. It’s hard to complain about waiting in a Paris café and watching the world go by. We went to the Pompidou yesterday after she dropped her suitcase at my place. It’s only a block from the Poissoniere metro, so very convenient, and I like the neighborhood very much. There’s a small supermarket across the street, and a bakery around the corner. The Pompidou was great. Their permanent collection is wonderful, and there was a Chagall exhibit. I hadn’t realized it, but the exhibit largely focused on his designs for the Opera Garnier ceiling, which I had just seen a few days before. There were lots of maquettes and sketches, as well as other designs for Stravinsky’s Firebird ballet. And several ceramic sculptures. I hadn’t known that he did ceramics. They had faces similar to some of his painted work. But my favorite pieces were a series of collages that combined painting and drawing with textural materials like lace.
There were some other fascinating works, including a tiny shop that had really existed, then been dismantled and reconstructed at the museum. It was very quirky and I wasn’t sure what it had actually sold. It was more of an art installation than any shop I’ve ever seen. Must have been quite something when it was out in the “real” world. Both of us were really tired but it was a while before we could pull ourselves away from the museum. By then we were hungry. There are tons of restaurants in the vicinity of the museum, but I assumed they would be tourist oriented, overpriced, and not great quality. That didn’t prove to be the case though. I had a delicious confit de canard, duck on the bone cooked in its fat, with potatoes and those wonderful thin French green beans. I really haven’t eaten at restaurants that much during my two weeks here. Not because I mind eating alone. I just seem to prefer having breakfast here, at the apartment, with some kind of snack during the day, a salad or a crepe, then something light back at home again in the evening. I think I’ve had just four real meals at restaurants over the last two weeks. A few days ago I went to try a restaurant a few blocks from here that my host, Paul, had recommended. When I got there, though, it was crowded and noisy, and even if there had been a table for me I don’t think I would have wanted to eat there. So I tried another restaurant I’d passed on the way, and had a delicious leg of lamb, with zucchini and potatoes, and a rich chocolate ganache desert. The server/owner spoke flawless English. Turns out she was originally from Connecticut but was married to a French man and has lived in Paris for many years. The name of the restaurant is Dylan.
Several days later… I am firmly ensconced in my Paris apartment, starting to settle into routines and realizing how quickly the time is going by. I may not get in as many museums as I had hoped. Have been to the Orsay, one of my and probably everyone’s favorites. And also to the Musee dArt de la Ville de Paris, where I had discovered the weird and wonderful Henry Darger on a previous trip. Maybe wonderful isn’t an accurate word, his work is pretty bizarre and dark. Look him up if you are interested in outsider art. Both his art and his life are intriguing, as I find true of many self-taught artists. It’s a great museum, with stupendous views of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine. It’s referred to as MAM, I just discovered. This time there were two special exhibits; you know, the ones where you stand in a slow-moving line for some time, then have to elbow your way up to each piece of art. Each of those had opened just a day or two before. One had long lines, the other had none, so I opted for that one. It’s an American artist, her name is Dana Schutz. Her work is shockingly stark with scenes of people consuming themselves and others, peppered with body parts and other graphic images. It’s interesting to come into a large exhibit with absolutely no expectations. The piece that appealed most to me depicted a group of men on some kind of outing, some carrying others, all in hyperreal images and colors. For some reason it reminded me of Clarence Thomas’ excursions with his super rich buddies. Just what was on my mind, I guess. I don’t think there were any severed body parts in that one! There was a short film of her being interviewed about her work, which I found intriguing. Interesting to see and hear a seemingly normal person whose art is so bizarre. Also at the museum was a room sized mural by Dufy depicting the dawning of electricity. And also several panels by Matisse of dancers. The original ones had been commissioned by Albert Barnes for his Philadelphia museum. I felt so cultivated, having seen those in Philadelphia a year or two ago. Fun fact: I just read (in Wikipedia) that Barnes’ wealth came from his development of a treatment for gonorrhea. The day before, I had gone to the Orsay, the stunning museum right on the river that was transformed some decades ago from a beautiful train station no longer in use.. A lot of the structural architecture was preserved, and there’s a short film depicting the transformation, that I hadn’t seen before. The current draw there is an exhibit of Van Gogh’s work of his frenetic last few months, while living in a village in Auvers-sur-Oise. I saw no mention in the exhibit of his specific affliction, but the described highs and lows sure sound like bipolar. I did find some research afterwards that agreed that he suffered from that disorder as well as psychoses, and possibly syphilis as well. Vincent had spent the previous year self-committed to an asylum in Provence. I had visited there a few years ago while at another mosaic workshop in Avignon. That hospital was fascinating, and if you are in Provence I highly recommend visiting there. It’s in the village of St. Remy. While there he painted many of his famous works including A Starry Night. This Paris show was one of those you indeed had to wait it line and elbow your way to see each piece. I had tried to get a ticket online, to no avail, because of a problem with an additional code for my charge card. So I went directly to the museum, had to wait in a line for folks without reservations to just get in the door, probably 45 minutes or so. Not too enjoyable but worth the wait. And it’s hard to complain about standing in the warm sun surrounded by the beautiful architecture of Paris. And eavesdropping on the conversations of my fellow waiters in line. Van Gogh was extremely prolific those last months. I think he did about 300 pieces while there. One was painted on the day he shot himself, dying three days later. The exact site of that last work, a tangle of trees, was just recently identified by an art scholar. He identified it when going through postcards during the pandemic.
I keep meaning to read the book about how his brother supported him, and how his sister-in-law was actually the one who promoted his work and was responsible for his fame, only after his death. Actually I think there’s a couple of books, one based on the numerous letters he wrote to his brother Theo, and the other I think focused on the story of his sister in law, Jo, Theo’s wife, who was responsible for bringing Van Gogh’s work to light. Just looked them up, one is Dear Theo, the other is The Secret Life of Sunflowers. If anyone has read either or both and has an opinion, let me know! One night I went to a performance at the Olympia. It is the famous concert hall where many well known musicians have performed and continue to perform. It is not the exact space, they tore it down some years ago but preserved the facade. This show sounded unusual, it was called One Night in Tunisia. It sounded like a panoply of performers with a large band. I took a chance, wanting to be in the space as much as seeing a particular performer. I had been there once before, in 1970, to see Simon and Garfunkel. I have a clear image of Art Garfunkel hitting those exquisitely high notes of Bridge over Troubled Water. And that’s about all I remember. It didn’t strike me until I was there that the title of the show “One Night in Tunisia was in English. And that was about the only English I heard during the show, it was in a combination of French and Arabic, neither of which I could understand much. There were two co mc’s, a band of about a dozen, and an audience that seemed to know most of the lyrics. I wish I could have understood what they were singing about. Many were ballads or pop type numbers. Most striking was a violinist who played and sang intensely. I was prepared to not like her based solely on her outfit that reminded me of a dance hall lady (not the reggae kind, the saloon kind) more than a concert performer. But she was a superb performer, and I forgave her décolleté outfit. I later found her name by googling Tunisian woman violinist, and there she .was, Yasmine Aziez, a British-born violinist of Tunisian descent . She currently resides in Tunisia. But she had lived in Boston and studied at the Boston Conservatory! The audience was more than enthusiastic, and very mixed by age. Many women and some men undulated their hands or arms while they listened, some while holding their phones. I was tempted to also. And there was a good deal of the vibrating vocalizing one hears in some Arabic music, from musicians and also audience, called ululation. The word in Arabic is zaghreba, or something close to that. It was all very interesting. But most intriguing to me was the Tunisian hip hop group. The rhythms were certainly recognizable as rap. But the music was quite different, more melodic and with all the instruments of the band behind them, including lots of violins.” And, a bagpipe! The bagpiper came forward and riffed with the rappers. The other performance I attended was the Paris Opera Ballet at the Palais Garnier. The Garnier is a beautiful and historic theatre, with a ceiling designed by Chagall, and is also the setting for the Phantom of the Opera. They give tours, which I have been on twice, once by myself and a second time with Loring. But I had never attended a performance. Before leaving home, I had checked their schedule, only to find out that the entire season was sold out. Nevertheless, I went to the box office to see if they had any single tickets, and they did. I wound up sitting in the second row. And with the orchestra pit between me and the stage, it was perfect. It was a performance of three half hour pieces by three different choreographers. Although it’s called the Paris Opera Ballet, this was not traditional ballet, no toe shoes or tutus, nor traditional gendered roles. The performance was terrific, more what I would call modern dance, and I felt very lucky to have obtained the ticket. The curtain calls must have gone on for at least 10 or 15 minutes, with many bravos. The only performance I can recall attending with such extensive curtain calls was when I cut school when I was about 14 or 15 and wound up getting last minute tickets to see Nureyev and Fontaine at Lincoln Center. Maybe long curtain calls are common at ballet, I don’t know. But it was exhilarating, especially from so close. Well, there were a couple of other performances. One was the chanteuse and dancer at the Josephine Baker symposium I previously mentioned. And I must mention a performance I came across briefly in the metro. I could hear the singing and music echoing from several corridors away, and then came across a group of Ukrainian men, perhaps six or eight of them, singing a powerful chorus in beautiful harmony.