Paris, Paul Bert and Dom Perignons bones!

Opting to take the subway out to Pearson airport on Good Friday may not seem like the perfect start to a two week European sojourn but for us it seemed like a low key way to start our adventure. A kind of DIY eco friendly way to kick off the trip. All that hocus pocus went out the window when we were offered upgrades to the Air France lounge at the airport. Suddenly bubbly, nibbles and super comfy sofa’s seemed just the thing on a Friday afternoon before our evening flight!.

My last experience with Air France had been subpar so was impressed with their service, food and footrests. Charles de Gaulle finally loomed out of the clouds, the light drizzle turning into a deluge as we deplaned onto the tarmac and had to madly lope across a mini lake to the shuttle bus! Lost luggage is par for the course, but for me it was a first time experience in Paris. Said large red case turned up an hour or so later and we whisked through rapidly drying streets to the Hotel Glasgow in the 17th arrondissement.

Kicking off our travels in the Air France Lounge

This residential suburb is just the other side of the Arc de Triomphe and was a lovely surprise. Our minimal hotel was a narrow tall building near stunning food market streets, restaurants and the Villiers metro stop.

17th Arondissement

Quickly purchasing a three day metro pass we headed straight for the Rodin museum. Loved the house, gardens, café but was a little bored by the artworks. EEEK! Great to see these famous pieces but I quickly realized this trip was about us having fun and precious time together rather than culturally enhancing our sensibilities! We had a glorious lunch in the garden there, my ‘lentile salade’ was toooooo die for. Smoked salmon, lentils, savory herb, crème fraiche and lemon in a glass looked as intriguing as it tasted.

Window shopping on the Left Bank

Four weeks of DIY Italian lessons helped me direct two lost Italian women to the Tour d’Eiffel as we walked towards St Germaine du Pres. Learning some basic Italian helped me with my french too. There are so many similarities that Miss Daniels lessons jumped back into the forefront of my fuzzy brain!

Rodin Museum and Eiffel Tower

Easter crowds thronged all the tourist hot spots so we opted to wander our own path. Just enjoying the difference of pale stone buildings and French architecture, the Seine, spring blossoms and fresh air.
I tried to get Pip into Laduree at the Champs but it was inundated….so very glad this was not my first time in Paris as would have been devastated to have to wait in the huge queues for everything! Note to first time travellers…book all your tickets and sightseeing trips online before you leave so you don’t have to battle with lines of hot grumpy tourists and get up early in the morning!

Laduree

Later as the sun dipped we had a coup d’champagne (albeit the smallest bloody coup I’d ever seen) of Dom Perignon street side up the rue from our hotel, watching the antics of locals parking their sixpence sized cars in thrupenny sized parking spots.

Pip shopped for wine, cheese and baguettes along the rue and we took a little feast to our roof top garret, flung open the floor to ceiling windows, whipped out my trusty swiss army knife ( no self respecting kiwi girl should be out and about without one!), and popped the cork on a delish bottle of chardonnay. Drinking out of tooth mugs we had the most delicious meal of crusty bread with super duper stinky goat cheese, smoked duck breast, a well aged comte cheese and sliced apple. Phew eh! Bloody bewty mate !

Stinky goats cheese, fig jam, smoked duck and champagne in tooth mugs!!

Easter Sunday dawned fine so we headed off to the Marche Puces on the metro to Clignancourt. Rosie D had given us the heads up for lunch so we beelined for Rue Rosier’s and Café Paul Bert. My tongue was rolling along behind me (a la Ali McBeal!) salivating at the eclectic brocante and antiques lining the sides of the quaint narrow street that led to the café. I managed to do what I was told by my boyfriend and folded myself into a seat by the window. Minutes later we happily ordered ‘Coquilles St Jacques’ and ‘lamb ragout with white beans’. Bloody hell. Expecting brunch ,as it was barely midday, I wondered if my tummy would cope with such deliciousness so early in the day. No problems was the answer as our plates were set in front of us with a fragrant bottle of rose.

After a superb lunch we strolled the lanes of the Marche Paul Bert. At one point I was completely overwhelmed. Every eclectic piece I’d ever lusted over revealed itself in one day. Stunningly simple stone mantle and fire surround, mid century aged leather Eames chairs, huge ancient mirrors, peasant style green pottery, rustic timber tables, you name it IT was there…BUT …the catch was ….it was all fearfully expensive…even with the currency exchange from Canadian dollars at a reasonably friendly rate. The days of finding inexpensive treasures here may have gone.

The true pleasure was just seeing all these scrumdiddlydumptious treasures so artfully displayed amidst crumbling old buildings and rumpty cobbled lanes. Even better and more charming was the sight of stall owners gathered together in their neighbour’s shop, around tables set with linens, fine china and glassware, gorgeous spring flowers in abundance and goddamn mouth watering smelling dishes set up for Easter Sunday lunch. Quite a scene. The wine was flowing and no-one seemed to worried about selling anything at all!

Our next stop was to be the Atelier Brancusi (I want to replicate this place and live my life out in it) and the Marais but a dramatic hail storm stymied our plans and after a rather painful run through the storm just shy of the Pompidou we dodged back into the metro to see the storm off. Riding the subterranean rails we headed for the Jardins de Tuillieries.

Atelier Brancusi

Edging our way past the long suffering tourists standing in line at the Louvre under clearing skies(once again thank god I’d visited intensively a few years ago) we wandered past the little ‘Paul’ stand (fab pastries and café sold from black painted hut) down the long stretch of pale crushed stone past gardens not quite in bloom, we spied the fantastic bronzed fallen pine lying on its side. My hope to see the long Monet waterlillies panels at the Orangerie faded at the length of lineup there. (Thank god for the Moma in NYC who have a long panel on show year round) Instead we strolled past the place Vendome up to Place Madeleine with its handsome church dominating the square. Once again Laduree was chocka and with black and white striped Fouchon closed we headed into café Julie for a beer and to rest our feet. We hopped back on the Metro (we did have a couple of hiccups when our metrocards didn’t work…luckily the ticket office people were very obliging and willing to try to decipher my french explanations… and re-issued these twice) to Villiers opting for dinner at a bistro near our hotel, we hit the hay happy and exhausted.

Place Madeliene

Next morning after pain au chocolate and café we caught the train to Epernay at Gare l’est. The trip took about an hour and we sped alongside rivers and through charming countryside. Suddenly hills striped brown with vineyards appeared, every slope patterned the same. Too early for leaf bud the vineyards were waiting for the sun to do its thing.

Epernay on Easter Monday 2010

My friend Jennifer's parents, Marion and David, met us at Epernay station, popped us into their white Peugeot and whisked us past the pale stone champagne houses bathed in spring sunshine sporting spring bulbs in huge regal urns then off into the countryside.

Hauteviller near Epernay in the Champagne region

Hauteviller, the resting place of Dom Perignon was our destination. Set high on a hill overlooking the famous champagne vineyards all jumbled together, Hauteville is a quaint example of wine villages in the area. The sun shone as we walked up through narrow streets passed the washing trough and many small aged champagne houses. In the season the streets throng with people but today, Easter Monday, it was thankfully silent, as we entered the dim musty church where the revered Dom’s bones are laid to rest before the altar.

Dom Perignon's resting place.

Lunch was a fab picnic on the very top of the hill, looking back down over acres of sloping vines to the River Marne. A rather somber note is that the Marne was scene to terrible battles and hardships during both first and second world wars.

Champagne Picnic at Hauteviller overlooking vineyards and the Marne.

Sipping bubbly, toasting those fallen boys, we nibbled cheeses from many french regions. We drank in the view across the vines and river to the Chateau Veuve Clicquot, (Veuve means widow …. So didn’t those Clicquot, Vernay, etc widows do well!) before heading back to Marion and David’s riverboat at Conde-sur-Marne.

Each Champagne house had a little plaque marking its vines. There are 2500 Champagne houses in the region and the plots seemed to run together randomly in a higgledpiggedly way. Along the road different champagne houses vines grew within feet of their neighbours. With so many champagne houses bottling wine each year we must be missing out on some great bubblies by only drinking the big named brands. Luckily we got to sample a few bottles during our 8 hours in the region!

Marion and I left the boys on the boat with a good bottle of red and shot around the local Brocante Marche (bric-a-brac and produce) in Conde village. Before leaving Toronto I’d warned Pip that I wanted to buy an Italian olive wood chopping board and salad platter and possibly a pot from Dehillerin in the Marais in Paris. So he was warned! My eyes lit on a set of copper pots set amongst jumble and two dozen french silver forks and spoons in an old leather case. The stall owner dropped the price of the pots while I dithered delicately….!!!Done I said and handed over.E35 for the pots, E10 for the silver. Was I a happy camper or what? On a roll now I could have kept on going. The beautiful white linens…copper fish kettle…darling little ladies chair…chandeliers…OH GOD!!! But I didn’t.! ‘Cause I’m a ….an idiot!!!!

Conte sur Marne...my copper pots and silver purchased at the brocante marche at bottom left!

Much later on a neighbouring boat, drinking homemade Champagne then Ratafia (made from discarded champagne grape skins) and conversing in muddled French we whiled the evening away before hopping one mooring over for Pot au feu, homemade sloe gin and more wine with Marion and David. Their generous hospitality and knowledge of the area made this a day we'll both remember forever.

Wine and goodwill making new friends on the river Marne.

Taking the 8.30pm train back to Paris we were shortcut on sleep that night as our shuttle arrived at 4am for our flight to Rome. Paris had done us proud, three days of European food and style was just what the doctor ordered after a long cold winter!