Nov 1, 2005
We'd been to the Village Halloween parade several times before but this was the greatest and best yet. It's a time for letting it all hang out (as they say). But besides that, it was just plain fun!
The night was warm and balmy for late October, beckoning participants and spectators alike - the streets were filled to capacity from top at 23rd street in Chelsea, to bottom at Spring Street in Soho where the parade would set off. New Yorkers, in all their variety, were out in force and in merry spirits, looking for a good time and a good time they found. They brought their kids along in costumes and makeup to march or to watch. One costume outdid the next and we were astounded by the creativity and energy that went into some of the designs.
New Yorkers lined the streets, little ones perched on their parents' shoulders.
Great Caesar's ghosts ... and his skeleton's too!
It's a bird. It's a plane. It's a .... what is it?
Lots of nice looking people...and it was warm so people dressed down.
One marcher makes reference to our fearless leader and the Katrina tragedy.
Even Mona Lisa was in the parade.
In addition to hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers, it looked like thousands of cops had been deployed to keep the peace. Trouble is, in the spirit of Mayor Doomsberg, they were employing an aggressive posture -- it was very difficult to enter and leave the parade area as many streets were blocked and people were coralled, as in recent peace demonstrations, into penned-in areas. Our friends, Lonnie and Monique, were supposed to meet us but only Lonnie made it. Monique, coming south from 14th Street, never made it below 12th Street and finally headed home in defeat after a harrowing experience with crowds and angry police.
The three of us -- Stacey, Lonnie and I, managed to enter the parade itself and marched up toward the Village, planning to grab a bite at our favorite Chinese restaurant, Sammy's. We never made it that far and bailed out at Greenwich Avenue instead where we stopped in at Empire Szechuan, not a bad alternative. It was a fun night and after dinner, we walked way over to 8th Avenue as the subways closer to the parade were mobbed with people. Tired but happy, we put Lonnie in a taxi as we descended to the subway and made our way back to Brooklyn.
Having fun in the Village on Halloween...SuperBaby looks ready to fly.
Even Santa was there and the crowds were thick as could be on Sixth Avenue in the Village.
A sailor and an angel. The meaning? Who cares!
People were having a great, great time!
And did the kids enjoy it? Well the picture tells it all!
This was by far, my favorite costume. It is a costume, isn't it?
Oct 10, 2005
It seemed to go on forever though, didn't it? Our French trip, that is. We arrived in France on September 28th. Now it was the October 10th and in three more days we'd be back in New York - a very different place half way around the world.
What is it about travel that delights the soul to such a great extent? I asked Stacey why we feel so different walking around Paris. After all, it's a big city like New York. And probably, the differences are more of perception and custom than actual day-to-day life. People get up, go to work or school, have lunch, do some shopping, visit a museum, go to a movie, see a show or a concert. Pretty much the same in each city. But as New Yorkers walking the streets of Paris, I am an observer who adores the tiny French cars (I have always loved the French design ethic), make careful mental notes to compare the number of bicyclists in their city vs. ours (many, many more people bike here for small errands or to get to work and the number is on the rise as government encourages bike use to reduce congestion and pollution). Always the foodie, I marvel (and salivate) at the sandwiches artfully piled high in the windows of the shops that line the streets. And the pastries ... ooh la la ... beautiful works of art that tempt you, it seems, on any street you walk down.
There also seems to be more romance in France - I saw this everywhere, but never so much as in Paris. Couples, young and old, walking with arms around each other, smooching, gazing into each others eyes - everywhere, on the banks of Seine, in the cafes, on the street.
Their cities seem to reflect a more orderly society than ours. Everything is taken care of. Streets are washed and cleaned regularly. There are no overflowing litter cans and garbage being blown around their streets which is so evident in Bloomberg's New York. Shop windows are washed - daily it seems. Mass transit is on time and runs efficiently and quietly. And there are very much fewer homeless on the streets. I could be projecting, but there's a lack of tension that I so often detect in New York as if people know that their government cares and will take care of the things that are supposed to be taken care of.
This is not to say that I don't live in a great city with wonderful attributes. Everyone knows that I'm the original NYC booster. And French people visiting here can observe special things about New York that we may take for granted. That's what travel to foreign lands provides - a chance to compare and see the way people organize their society - we can be envious of some things over there and proud of some of our great achievements over here. Still we're happy to get home after a long trip because, when all is said and done, we crave the comfort and familiarity of our home, sweet home.
We left St. Tropez and took the N7 to Aix-En-Provence where we stopped for lunch and some shopping. It seems we always hit these cities at noon, just when stores are closing for the two hour siesta that is common throughout France. Shopkeepers close up at 12, return at 2 and generally stay open till 7 or 7:30. The road to Aix ran alongside massive outcroppings of rock and mountain up to which vineyards ran as far as the eye could see.
The N7 road to Aix ran through beautiful countryside with massive mountains looming in the distance.
On the N7 - vineyards everywhere and running right up to the mountains.
We had lunch at a warm and sunny cafe on the Place de Pecheurs - Aix-en-Provence.
The main street, lined with 17th century mansions is called Cours Mirabeau. Once again, a lovely French street lined with shady London Planes - they do love their trees and loving care is extended to take care of them. As we walked up the street, a crew was busy pruning them for the coming winter season. This would guarantee an abundance of leaves next spring.
A crew was pruning sycamores on the Cours Mirabeau.
And this was the result -- until next spring.
Walking further up the street we came to a remarkable (for you animal lovers out there) scene - a street performer, dressed in mime whiteface, with his two cats. It was a simply wonderful performance for us cat lovers. These two cat would balance on his shoulders, stand up and wave to the audience, kiss each other and their master and otherwise behave in distinctly un-cat manner.
What a sweet cat act!
Give your brother a kiss now.
Make nice.
There was a sweet bond between man and cat. We loved it.
We continued our walk around Aix, seeking out the important sights. We came upon the City Hall which has a beautiful bell tower from 1510, incorporating anastronomicall clock and rotating figures that represent the seasons. City Hall itself, was housed in an ancient building with giant doors and gates. Unlike our mansion, there were no bars or guards keeping citizens from entering.
City Hall's clock tower and its rotating seasonal characters.
City Hall in Aix - beautiful gates and a courtyard and no guards to keep citizens at a distance.
Nice knockers ... on the City Hall doors.
This guy was checking out the action in the place below.
All three -- just biding their time.
This is the pediment of the 18th century Corn Exchange, symbolizing the importance of agriculture during that period.
We continued our walk down ancient Rue Gaston de Saporta which has four old mansions from the 17th and 18th centuries. One, in particular, grabbed our attention: The Hotel de CHATEAURENARD at No.19 was built in 1650. It is famous as the place where Louis XVI stayed during his visit to Provence in 1660. But what was most fantastic of all was is magnificent staircase in trompe l'oeil which was painted by Jean Daret. I remarked to Stacey that people had a good sense of humor back then as the artist had all kinds of characters peeping out from curtains and romanesque statues gesturing to you with outstrechted hands. Quite amazing.
The Hotel (mansion) Chateaurenard at 19 Rue Gaston de Saporta with its fantastic and humorous tromp l'oeil.
Hi there dude.
We left Aix and drove on toward Paris. Consulting our guide book we tried to figure out where to spend the night. The next big town up north was Lyon, France's second largest. We avoided that and stopped just short of Lyon in what turned out to be a lovely, mid-sized city, Vienne.
The city is on the Rhone river and is perched on five hills. Our hotel, a Michellin recommendation, was about 6 miles out of town in a neighboring country village, Estrablin. We arrived after dark and had a hard time finding the place, retracing our path down narrow country roads several times, but we didn't give up and, after a half an hour or so, finally located the beautiful old building that had been renovated to modern standards - we were pleasantly surprised by the 3-star Hotel La Gabetiere.
A beautiful garden greeted us from our hotel window when we awoke the next morning -- we had arrived after dark.
Looking across the Rhone from Vienne.
We walked around town the next morning, doing our usual routine: seeking out the highlights. In Vienne, that meant seeking out the Cathedral of St. Maurice. Maurice, it seems, was a 4th century Roman soldier who converted to Christianity and was martyred when killed by the Romans while on duty in Switzerland. The cathedral, which was built in stages between 1052 and 1533 is an important example of both romanesque and gothic architecture.
Cathedral of St. Maruice - Vienne, France.
St. Maurice - a gothic cathedral built around a romanesque church.
While in the cathedral we eavesdropped on a guided tour and gleaned an interesting tidbit of trivia. It seems in the 17th century fashions changed. Prior to that, churches and cathedrals were ablaze with color - the plain stone interiors that we observe now were painted in brilliant tones. But later, this came to be frowned upon and the paint was systematically removed from church after church. It seems that almighty fashion was as powerful than the Almighty himself.
The remains of ancient frescoes, out of fashion in the 17th century and removed from churches.
Next on our walk was the Roman Temple of Augusta, built at the end of the first century BC. Like the Maison Caree in Nimes, this was a temple to the cult of the Roman emperor and his court. It is stands pretty much intact in the Place du Palais.
The 1st century BC, Temple of Augusta, standing as has stood for the last 2000 years.
Vienne-ians take their Roman ruins for granted.
The Thinkers, one stone, one flesh - in a Vienne bus stop.
We finished up our walk - it was getting late and we still had to make Paris, more than four hours away. Vienne had been a surprise delight - it was not a big tourist draw, but a very pleasant place to explore on our way back. We reached Paris quite late in the day, too late to return the car to the rental office. Stacey shlepped the luggage into the hotel, while I searched for impossible-to-find parking. Dinner was at 11, then sleep. We stayed in Paris for two days before boarding our Air France plane home from De Gaulle airport.
This was a wonderful trip that will provide memories for years to come. We have both been to France several times over the years. I'm sure we will return again as it has an endless supply of exciting places to discover and visit. While in a bookstore recently, looking for guides for our impending trip, I came across one titled (and I'm paraphrasing), "A thousand places you must vist and see before you die." I laughed out loud reading the title and thought that I'm entering my 60th year. I'd be happy with seeing another dozen ... if I have the money, the time and the energy. Travel is great but it expensive. Stacey still hs her Frommer guide, "Europe on $5 a day," from the 1960's. Ha! His new book is rated at $90 a day. Don't believe it. That aside, travel to foreign lands is one of the most rewarding experiences that life can offer. I'm fortunate to be among those able to partake. I hope you enjoyed my posts and that, perhaps, they will inspire some of you to take a trip as well.A bientot and see you on the road.
Oct 10, 2005
I've mentioned a few times the generosity of our B&B hosts: Micky and Jacques. On the Sunday that she drove Lynn and Mike to the airport, she returned to the house to prepare our breakfast. But this time, she and Jacques joined us at the table. "I have a great idea," Micky said. "Jacques has some business to take care of at our beach home in St. Tropez. Why don't you follow him down there and stay at our house for the night." We had been planning to begin our trip back to Paris by visiting Aix-Ex-Provence, making our way back north. St. Tropez was further east and south. But Micky promised us it would be a special treat and wouldn't take us much out of our way. It took us about a minute to say yes. Jacques would be visiting his mother who was in a senior home there and would leave the key for us. He prepared a detailed map showing the location of the house on the outskirts of the village and off he went. We followed an hour later.
Here's the map Jacques drew for us to find his house in St.Tropez.
St. Tropez, of course, is one of those sun-coast towns filled with the jet setters and such. But it's also a beautiful village with a magnificent harbor and streets that climb up to the hills behind it for fabulous views. We found their home in a development of 1950ish homes. Next to their beautiful and modern Montepellier home this was more rustic - a beach house for the family to escape to from time to time. Or "camping" as Jacques put it. It was a wonderful experience and a lovely place to rest our bodies. The bonus? A room without charge for a change! We unpacked the Ford van and set off, on foot, to explore St. Tropez.
Boats in the harbor at St. Tropez.
We walked along the waterfront and came to the town's well known museum, Musee de L'Annociade where we entered to view the current exhibit on Matisse and The Fauvists (The Beasts). Matisse led other artists in the use of brilliant and outlandish colors in their impressionism and this school was referred to as the Fauvists.
Stacey at the Musee de L'Annonciade.
The Fauvists (aka beasts) used intense and outlandish colors to impart the feel, color and warmth of southern France.
We left the museum and walked along the old harbor that was filled with very fancy British sailing yachts, in town for some sort of race. Even though it was mid-October, crowds filled the shorefront with a buzz and excitement as they pressed to get a look at each and each every boat, one more fantastic than the next.
The harbor was filled with fancy British racing sail boats.
This boat was equipped with gleaming brass fittings throughout including the steering wheel!
The sky was filled with the masts of boats that crowded the harbor.
Harbor side was filled with people gawking at the yachts at anchor in the bay.
Stacey and I sat in one of the harbor-side cafes and watched the tumultuous scene on the sidewalk out front. Then we escaped to the peace and quiet of the town's back streets. We wandered up the hill to the ramparts of an old fortress with a commanding view of the habor below. It was quite a view.
Stacey poses in front of an old stone wall on the town's peaceful back seats.
Quite a view from the ramparts high above town.
St. Tropez - tres romantique.
Late day shadows on the fortress wall.
We planned to meet Jacques for dinner and agreed to meet him at one of the town squares, the Place des Lices. While we waited, Stacey and I had a drink at a cafe and watched the sun set. All around us were groups of men and women who were indulging in the French version of bocce, which is called Pétanque. Here's a Google reference that describes this very social game, a favorite of southern France --
The game of boules, otherwise known as pétanque , is perhaps the sport that is closest to French hearts. Similar to British lawn bowling or Italian bocce , the French version is traditionally played with metallic balls on a dirt surface beneath plane trees, with a glass of pastis at hand. The local boulodrome is a social focal point in southern France. The object of the game is to throw your balls — usually with somewhat of an arched back-spin — so that they land closer to the small object ball (cochonnet ) than those of your opponent, or strike and drive the object ball toward your other balls and away from your opponent's.
The French game Pélanque being played in the Place des Lices at St. Tropez.
My ball's closer than yours!
We finally met Jacques and he took us on a little tour of his town. His mom, now in a home, lived on the main street, Rue Gambetta. They were selling it now and he had some inventory to account for and, thus, his trip down here. First though, we had dinner at a lovely restaurant overlooking the harbor. And then a tour of his mom's house and a walk back to his house on the edge of town.
Jacques met us for dinner.
The house that belonged to Jacques' mother on Rue Gambetta. He took us inside which was a treat. We would never have gotten to see the interior of one of these grand old houses. This one was built in 1820!
A painting by Jacques' father of a funeral in Patagonia in Chile. Jacques, a geologist, has followed in his dad's footsteps and has worked all over the world searching for mineral deposits and oil sites.
The next morning we left early and began our return trip to Paris. Our first stop was Aix-En-Provence. More of that in my next post.
