Despite the stressful start, the 6 hour train trip to Toulouse was pretty uneventful. I had a sad, cold, overpriced train sandwich, and a sad, warm Nescafe cappuccino. Yes, apparently Nescafe cappuccino exists. So the food offered on board TGV trains isn't great, but TGV trains are pretty much wonderful. They're quiet and smooth, and they're much roomier than airplanes, there isn't the hassle of security and stressed-out flight attendants, and they almost always run exactly on time. My train pulled into Toulouse today at the exact minute it said it would on my ticket. Plus Train à Grande Vitesse sounds so cool but just means "train at great speed."
The long ride through the French countryside was not bad either. It was rather gray and foggy so it was kind of hard to see much, but as we got further south there was a bit better visibility. The landscape reminds me a lot of where I grew up in western Maryland. There were big, forested, rolling hills, and the train often went through places where there were cuts in the hillside. There were also little cottages with steep thatched roofs and every once in awhile I'd see a castle that looked like it stepped right out of a fairytale peeking out of otherwise uninterrupted forest.
After I got to the train station, it was just a few blocks to my hotel. Unfortunately, when I stepped through the door I was greeted with a huge flight of stairs. I was waiting for some people going downstairs to pass me before I started going up, but it turned out one of them was the hotel owner coming down to carry my bag for me, which was nice. After carrying my bags all day I usually feel like it's a matter of honor or something to finish carrying them to my final destination myself, but I couldn't really muster the energy to protest this time.
Also, it turns out my room is awesome. I paid a few extra Euros for a "premium" single room, which I thought just meant that breakfast came with my reservation, but also means that I get a big bed. I've also got a tv and a really nice heating unit. Plus everything is really clean and nice. I have relatively low expectations about hostels where I stay at this point. I understand and accept that the lower prices mean that the linens and mattress will be showing signs of wear and that I might have to share a somewhat icky bathroom with lots of people. But oh wow, this place is nice. I was thinking about going out to see if there was a new year's celebration happening, but I'm exhausted and I don't think I can be persuaded to move away from this lovely warm new blanket and the lovely warm wifi. Sorry to be lame, but I'm still sore from all the suitcase-carrying, and I've never really been one for holidays.
Anyway, just an hour after my train pulled into the station, I was changed, showered, and ready to see the city. The attendant at the desk was really nice and told me all about Toulouse, drawing on a map of the city that he gave me. He also told me where to get the fancy coffee. A man after my own heart. I went into town and saw a really amazing brick cathedral (and took lots of photos that I still can't take off the camera yet), and the main square, and had a look at the shops. I really like Toulouse so far. After Paris, it's a very manageable size. Visiting Paris a lot has been great, but I often find the size of cities that large to be very difficult. For example, it's so big that it's hard to know where to go for some things. If I'm out visiting some part of Paris and I want eat, I'm so often in different parts of the city that I'm constantly having to guess where to go and hope my choice isn't too expensive or awful-tasting or both. Paris is really too big for me to feel like I know even a particular part of it well. Central Toulouse seems to me like it's a similar size to central Cambridge, actually, which maybe makes sense because it's a university town. Well, Toulouse actually seems like it has more shopping available in the city center, yet somehow things are closer together. Amazingly. In the course of walking around town for a little bit, I saw a few highlights of the city, and found central, easily accessible areas where I can find something good to eat at a reasonable price.
Unfortunately, it started to rain while I was out walking around, and it was warm enough that I wasn't wearing a coat at all and didn't mind, but when it really started coming down pretty hard I realized I'd get very soaked if I didn't find an umbrella somewhere. The likeliest place seemed to be a big store that had a lot of housewares-type items, but I couldn't see right away where they were among the several floors of the store. So, I asked someone who worked there where the umbrellas were. I find the French word for umbrella to be a funny word to say: "parapluie."
Anyway, she showed me where the umbrellas were. As I started looking at them, an old man who was also looking at the umbrellas asked me if I knew what price they were. It took me a moment to figure out what he was asking. Usually when someone starts speaking to me, I'm a little slow at first because I have to not only understand the other language but get over that "Huh? Is someone speaking to me?" moment. Anyway, the umbrella prices were listed low on the shelves near to the floor, and the old man was having a hard time reading them, so I got down so I could look at them and I read them off to him. So we had a sort of cute conversation in French picking out umbrellas together. Then he asked me where I was from. Actually he said "and you are... what?" which I will assume is not rude in French, like it kind of is when translated literally into English (I don't know what I am... a giraffe?). I said I was American and he was a bit surprised, and he told me he didn't know how to say much in American (he actually said "in American" rather than "in English" which I think is as odd to say in French as it is in English). Then I told him that I was just happy that he could understand me when I spoke to him, and he said he could understand my French no problem, which I enjoyed. Then he told me happy new year in French, and then in English. And I said "thanks, you too" in English, to which he looked slightly confused. But I think we were both very happy about the interaction, on the whole.
After getting my umbrella, I went and got a quiche and an Orangina and then went back to my hotel room. The lady at the bakery heated up the quiche for me, which was nice, but unfortunately it cooled a bit as I walked back to my hotel through the rain, hurrying down the slightly seedy street where it is (I would describe this hotel as "gentrifying" the street it's on), clutching my umbrella in one hand and my quiche in the other. The quiche was tasty. And now I am writing this blog entry, and I think I'm ready to fall asleep. I've got big plans for some tourism tomorrow.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Trip to the South of France: Katrina's Expert Train Travel Tips
For a bit of variety, I traveled to Toulouse today.
A week or so ago I brought TGV tickets to go to Toulouse and return to Paris, and it turns out the cheapest time to go out here was New Year's Eve Day, probably because Paris is a hot destination for New Year's and so people don't particularly want to be going away from Paris right now. But since I'm by myself and the apartment where I'm staying is prohibitively far from the celebrations, I don't particularly care if I'm in Paris for the new year. Being freezing cold and by myself in the middle of a huge crowd and unable to go home for hours and hours isn't exactly my scene.
So anyway, this morning my train was scheduled to leave Paris Austerlitz station at 7:53. I decided to try to get out of the apartment I'm staying in at 6 to leave a safe amount of time for getting there and finding my platform, but unfortunately I didn't leave until 6:20, and when I got to the train station I had a longer than usual wait for a train, and I was starting to get pretty worried that I'd miss my train. Fortunately the train that I took was one of the ones that skips a lot of stops, so I made up a lot of the time, but I had to change train lines to get to Austerlitz, and it was a change that I hadn't done before. Signage for train changes tends to be pretty clear, but often involve quite long hikes through tunnels, and I was worried that I might take a long time carrying my heavy suitcase up a lot of stairs.
I tend to be good about doing homework, so I had written down the information for the RER train change, including which direction I needed to go when I took the C line. Both RER and metro trains are designated by where they terminate, and the C line has a lot of forks, so I knew I would need to choose between two lists of several possible destinations, so I had written down a list of places in the same direction as I was going. Unfortunately, when I got to the station I saw that the list of places I had written down was actually split between two possible platforms. Oh no! I had misread the train lines last night. I went to look at the map of the lines again, and between getting up several hours before I usually did and being really stressed about missing the train, I was having a hard time reading the big spiderweb of lines. Someone asked me if I needed help, and I couldn't remember the name of the station I was going to (yeah, I was pretty tired) so I had to dig out my tickets to tell him. Then he actually wasn't so familiar with the route to get to that station actually, but then he pointed out that it was one of the destinations of the metro line that goes through the same station. Eager just to make a decision and get on a train to Austerlitz, I thanked him and left for the metro line, but after going up a set of stairs (my suitcase was getting steadily heavier... regretting packing those extra socks) and two escalators and the metro platforms still not in sight, I realized that it would be better to go have a look at the two C platforms, where I could see the details about where the train was going, so I turned back, irritated, and went to one of the C platforms, running when possible. Just as I got to the platform, a train was pulling in, and so I asked someone getting on the train if it was going to Austerlitz and she said yes, and fortunately, it did. The C line train also had an insane step up into it, so I had to lift my suitcase up and push it onto the train before hauling myself up.
I got to Austerlitz about 20 minutes before my train was set to depart. At this point I was trying to relax since I'd probably make my train, but it was quite a distance to the TGV trains, so I was still pretty worried. There were a few sets of stairs, and the one escalator between me and my train Toulouse was not operating. Then when I got onto the TGV train, tired and stinking of stress, the only storage option for my suitcase was up high, so I had to lift my giant suitcase overhead. Even once I was in my seat with some time to spare, the adrenaline from forcing myself out of bed really early, panicking that I was going to miss my train, and the impromptu workout of carrying my bag up and down many many stairs made it really hard to unclench my muscles for quite awhile.
I can distill my travel experience today into several Paris train travel tips:
1. Even if they are at the same station, the distance between two lines of one type of train can be quite far, and the distance between two distinct types of trains is even farther. When estimating travel time, include the time for changing trains as well as the time that the train takes. If you're not familiar with the station already, you might be surprised by how far it will be.
2. Elevators and escalators are often unavailable, or if they are, hard to find, so only pack something you can carry up stairs. Not only carry up stairs, but lift over your head if you need to. So pack light. Or start lifting weights at the gym more often. Really, it's best to do both.
3. Don't necessarily trust the nice person who tries to give you directions.
A week or so ago I brought TGV tickets to go to Toulouse and return to Paris, and it turns out the cheapest time to go out here was New Year's Eve Day, probably because Paris is a hot destination for New Year's and so people don't particularly want to be going away from Paris right now. But since I'm by myself and the apartment where I'm staying is prohibitively far from the celebrations, I don't particularly care if I'm in Paris for the new year. Being freezing cold and by myself in the middle of a huge crowd and unable to go home for hours and hours isn't exactly my scene.
So anyway, this morning my train was scheduled to leave Paris Austerlitz station at 7:53. I decided to try to get out of the apartment I'm staying in at 6 to leave a safe amount of time for getting there and finding my platform, but unfortunately I didn't leave until 6:20, and when I got to the train station I had a longer than usual wait for a train, and I was starting to get pretty worried that I'd miss my train. Fortunately the train that I took was one of the ones that skips a lot of stops, so I made up a lot of the time, but I had to change train lines to get to Austerlitz, and it was a change that I hadn't done before. Signage for train changes tends to be pretty clear, but often involve quite long hikes through tunnels, and I was worried that I might take a long time carrying my heavy suitcase up a lot of stairs.
I tend to be good about doing homework, so I had written down the information for the RER train change, including which direction I needed to go when I took the C line. Both RER and metro trains are designated by where they terminate, and the C line has a lot of forks, so I knew I would need to choose between two lists of several possible destinations, so I had written down a list of places in the same direction as I was going. Unfortunately, when I got to the station I saw that the list of places I had written down was actually split between two possible platforms. Oh no! I had misread the train lines last night. I went to look at the map of the lines again, and between getting up several hours before I usually did and being really stressed about missing the train, I was having a hard time reading the big spiderweb of lines. Someone asked me if I needed help, and I couldn't remember the name of the station I was going to (yeah, I was pretty tired) so I had to dig out my tickets to tell him. Then he actually wasn't so familiar with the route to get to that station actually, but then he pointed out that it was one of the destinations of the metro line that goes through the same station. Eager just to make a decision and get on a train to Austerlitz, I thanked him and left for the metro line, but after going up a set of stairs (my suitcase was getting steadily heavier... regretting packing those extra socks) and two escalators and the metro platforms still not in sight, I realized that it would be better to go have a look at the two C platforms, where I could see the details about where the train was going, so I turned back, irritated, and went to one of the C platforms, running when possible. Just as I got to the platform, a train was pulling in, and so I asked someone getting on the train if it was going to Austerlitz and she said yes, and fortunately, it did. The C line train also had an insane step up into it, so I had to lift my suitcase up and push it onto the train before hauling myself up.
I got to Austerlitz about 20 minutes before my train was set to depart. At this point I was trying to relax since I'd probably make my train, but it was quite a distance to the TGV trains, so I was still pretty worried. There were a few sets of stairs, and the one escalator between me and my train Toulouse was not operating. Then when I got onto the TGV train, tired and stinking of stress, the only storage option for my suitcase was up high, so I had to lift my giant suitcase overhead. Even once I was in my seat with some time to spare, the adrenaline from forcing myself out of bed really early, panicking that I was going to miss my train, and the impromptu workout of carrying my bag up and down many many stairs made it really hard to unclench my muscles for quite awhile.
I can distill my travel experience today into several Paris train travel tips:
1. Even if they are at the same station, the distance between two lines of one type of train can be quite far, and the distance between two distinct types of trains is even farther. When estimating travel time, include the time for changing trains as well as the time that the train takes. If you're not familiar with the station already, you might be surprised by how far it will be.
2. Elevators and escalators are often unavailable, or if they are, hard to find, so only pack something you can carry up stairs. Not only carry up stairs, but lift over your head if you need to. So pack light. Or start lifting weights at the gym more often. Really, it's best to do both.
3. Don't necessarily trust the nice person who tries to give you directions.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
In search of good coffee in Paris
Anyone who has known me within the last, say 6 years, probably knows that I am an avid coffee drinker. My first year in college I started on iced, blended mochas, but soon enough they weren't enough and I developed a taste for the pure stuff, and haven't looked back. I'm not much of an espresso person these days, but I really love a nice filter coffee. Fortunately for me this is something of a specialty in the bay area, and so when I'm at home I have the choice of many cafés where friendly baristas will happily enable my addiction.
After the crummy day out that I wrote about in my last entry, I decided to spend a day in to get some work done, which I did. It was good to get some things done, but it left me a little bit stir crazy, even though I'm still feeling a little like I want a break from doing the tourist thing. Then it occurred to me that I should find an interesting café where I could work, soak in a little Paris ambiance, and cure a little bit of homesickness. So far my only coffee here has been the espressos in the cute little cups which are the standard offering... it's what you get here if you ask for a coffee. Brewed coffee is not popular in Europe, hence the creation of the "Americano" mix of espresso and water for the American GI's stationed in Europe for WWII who wanted something more like what they drank at home. I often asked (rather self-consciously) for an Americano while I stayed in England, where most places offered a standard range of espresso drinks, but here it seems like most cafés just offer the little cup of espresso, and don't offer other drinks like cappuccinos and so on, or if they do, they're prohibitively expensive.
Paris cafés of course have a long, storied history. Interestingly, coffee houses in Europe started out as culturally central gathering places where people (actually just men; women were barred) debated issues and shared news. Legend has it that Voltaire drank huge amounts of coffee and wrote much of his work in coffee houses. Initially, I was thinking that I would just find a famous café, where I expected to purchase the standard cup of coffee, and pay a little bit more for the knowledge that I was sitting at the very same café where Sartre or someone else notable frequently spend time. However, a little bit of time doing internet research yielded an article about attempts to revive the Paris coffee scene, which is perceived as not being very good, and a list of new cafés which are trying to provide a better product. A lot of these places looked like they'd be a bit more like what I'm used to at home, so I was curious to go.
So, this morning I headed out to the Café Coutume down in the 7e arrondissement, which was established within the last year and has lots of types of coffee on offer, including coffee from their cold brew set up, like the one that Blue Bottle has. I ordered a coffee and then stayed long enough to have a nice lunch, followed by another cup of coffee. It was a really nice time. The staff were friendly, and judging by the conversations I was hearing, the place seems to draw a lot of English speakers. I'm not sure if this is because of the place specifically or the neighborhood, which was quite highbrow and seemed to have a steady stream of wealthy tourists coming through. I wouldn't be surprised if I go back to this café, now that I've had their coffee, which I would say was on par with the better coffee I've had around the bay area. Plus I haven't yet tried any of their baked goods, which looked tasty and interesting, including a carrot cake spiced with cumin.
After the crummy day out that I wrote about in my last entry, I decided to spend a day in to get some work done, which I did. It was good to get some things done, but it left me a little bit stir crazy, even though I'm still feeling a little like I want a break from doing the tourist thing. Then it occurred to me that I should find an interesting café where I could work, soak in a little Paris ambiance, and cure a little bit of homesickness. So far my only coffee here has been the espressos in the cute little cups which are the standard offering... it's what you get here if you ask for a coffee. Brewed coffee is not popular in Europe, hence the creation of the "Americano" mix of espresso and water for the American GI's stationed in Europe for WWII who wanted something more like what they drank at home. I often asked (rather self-consciously) for an Americano while I stayed in England, where most places offered a standard range of espresso drinks, but here it seems like most cafés just offer the little cup of espresso, and don't offer other drinks like cappuccinos and so on, or if they do, they're prohibitively expensive.
Paris cafés of course have a long, storied history. Interestingly, coffee houses in Europe started out as culturally central gathering places where people (actually just men; women were barred) debated issues and shared news. Legend has it that Voltaire drank huge amounts of coffee and wrote much of his work in coffee houses. Initially, I was thinking that I would just find a famous café, where I expected to purchase the standard cup of coffee, and pay a little bit more for the knowledge that I was sitting at the very same café where Sartre or someone else notable frequently spend time. However, a little bit of time doing internet research yielded an article about attempts to revive the Paris coffee scene, which is perceived as not being very good, and a list of new cafés which are trying to provide a better product. A lot of these places looked like they'd be a bit more like what I'm used to at home, so I was curious to go.
So, this morning I headed out to the Café Coutume down in the 7e arrondissement, which was established within the last year and has lots of types of coffee on offer, including coffee from their cold brew set up, like the one that Blue Bottle has. I ordered a coffee and then stayed long enough to have a nice lunch, followed by another cup of coffee. It was a really nice time. The staff were friendly, and judging by the conversations I was hearing, the place seems to draw a lot of English speakers. I'm not sure if this is because of the place specifically or the neighborhood, which was quite highbrow and seemed to have a steady stream of wealthy tourists coming through. I wouldn't be surprised if I go back to this café, now that I've had their coffee, which I would say was on par with the better coffee I've had around the bay area. Plus I haven't yet tried any of their baked goods, which looked tasty and interesting, including a carrot cake spiced with cumin.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Not every day in Paris is an awesome day.
It's been pretty gray and rainy on and off around here, but today was the foggiest I've seen it, even foggier than I've seen in a long time, and it gets pretty foggy in the bay area sometimes. When I opened my door, I could see the damp, gray mist rolling in toward me, like someone was running a fog machine just out of sight. Since it was so grey, and the weather forecast predicted a high of 41 (F), I decided that today was the day to visit some indoor things that I was curious about.
However, it didn't all work out quite as intended.
First, I went to the Paris catacombs. I'm sort of morbidly curious about them, and going on a nice day would seem like a waste of a nice day, so today was as good a time as any. Unfortunately, I think everyone else had the same idea, and there was a very long line to see them. I don't mind lines occasionally, but I've stood in a lot of them lately, and standing in line outdoors for a long time to get into the catacombs would be a bit silly as part of the point of my going was to spend some quality time in the comparatively warm depths of the earth.
After seeing the line for the catacombs was prohibitively long, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do next, but I saw some signs for the Montparnasse Cemetery. I think this post is making me seem a bit strange, but I'm not really usually the sort of person who wants to spend lots of time in cemeteries or crypts or catacombs. But I guess I had already talked myself into going somewhere slightly creepy today, the cemeteries in Paris are typically regarded as tourist destinations, there didn't seem to be other landmarks of interest in the area, and I wanted to get something out of my trip down there before jumping back on the metro train.
I went into the Montparnasse Cemetery, which was lined with large mausoleums, all packed in shoulder to shoulder. I didn't intend that last sentence to be literal, but looking at it, I suppose it is. I walked around a bit, and came to a sign listing the names and locations of some notable... umm... residents? of the cemetery. I didn't recognize any of the names, except for noted mathematician Henri Poincaré, so of course I went and found his tomb. The tomb is for the Poincaré family (photos to come in a few weeks). Its dimensions are what I'd think of for a burial site for just one person in our more spacious, decadent American cemeteries, I suppose like our more spacious, decadent elevators, train seats, and hotel rooms. So, I can only conclude that Henri is down there sandwiched in a stack of the corpses of his beloved family.
I told Henri that it was nice to visit him, that I was sure he'd heard about his conjecture being proved true, and that I am about to visit the institute named after him, which I haven't seen yet, but hear is very nice. There were several aging metro tickets sitting on top of the memorial, weighed down by small stones from that path. I guessed they were left by people meaning to indicate that the grave had been visited. I suppose leaving a metro ticket does seem to say something along the lines of "Hi, I made a trip out here specifically to see you," so I left my used train ticket as well.
After visiting Henri, I decided I felt unmotivated to continue wandering around in the grey chill in order to see the rest of the Montparnasse Cemetary, so I continued with part 2 of my original plan for staying indoors, which consisted of visiting the covered passages, which were in a more central part of Paris. These passages date back to the 18th and 19th centuries, and although they fell into disrepair, they've been restored relatively recently (so I've read) and are now full of cute second-hand shops and so on. The photos I saw online looked very steampunk, so I thought they'd be interesting to see. However, it turns out that the passages are kind of hard to find, and since the restoration is relatively recent, they weren't marked on all my maps. So again, my plan for finding these covered passages and browsing bookshops in the warmth just resulted in me spending lots of time outside looking confusedly at my various maps. I did find them eventually, and I suppose they were worth seeing once.
When I didn't find the passages immediately, I decided that I would do better with something warm in my stomach since it was getting late and I hadn't eaten for awhile. I also really wanted to sit down. A couple of days ago I decided it would be good to do a little circuit training with lots of lunges and squats, and now walking around is really difficult. So, I settled randomly on a little café which didn't seem terribly nice inside, but it was inexpensive, and I told myself that it was probably fine, just less touristy or something. Unfortunately I was served the grossest meal I've had at a restaurant in awhile. The texture of the croque monsieur was all mushy (in a bad way, not a lovely way, because sometimes food is mushy in a nice way, like mushy peas), and it came with a rubbery looking, slightly withered hot dog. I ate the fries that came with it, and started in on the sandwich, but once the edge was off my hunger, I couldn't bring myself to finish it. I didn't have the heart to tell the waiter how horrible it was, or the energy to come up with how to adequately express my disdain in French, which is strange, since one would think that French is a particularly good language for expressing disdain. Maybe the "expressing disdain" unit in the French program at Berkeley comes in a different course than the one I took. I ordered a cup of coffee for after the meal. I thought it would perk me up a bit, and the espressos they serve here seem pretty uniform and hard to screw up. But it was the worst espresso I've had since arriving. It was a too bitter, so I added a lump of sugar, which made it, somehow, worse. I felt just a twinge of homesickness, the first I've felt since getting here.
I was tempted to go back to the place I was staying, eat something tasty, and crawl into bed early in the day, but I hardened my resolve to see at least something of what I had set out to see, and so I found the covered passages. I suppose it was worth seeing them to satisfy my curiosity, but none of them really had anywhere I wanted to shop, although to be fair, I'm not here for shopping. There were lots of people inside them, taking photos of the wrought iron light fixtures and mosaic tile floors.
After I was satisfied that I'd seen all of the covered passages that I had hoped to see, I took the train home. Unfortunately it seemed like the best way to get back on the RER line was to change at the Chatalet station, which I really dislike, because it is phenomenally crowded. I thought I had gotten used to crowds a bit by living in the bay area, but this is much more crowded. Plus, when changing train lines, it sometimes seems like I have to walk through miles of underground tunnel to get there. To be fair, Chatalet does have those moving walkways like at airports, but they're often not just flat, but angled up and down, which I find rather unsettling.
Once I got back to where I'm staying, I decided it was time for a special trip to the bakery, so at least this day has a happy ending. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted, so I asked the woman working there if she had any suggestions. She suggested that maybe I wanted some chocolate, and that the truffles are made in house, so I got a few. So far it has gone really well when I ask people what the house specialty is rather than just choosing at random. These truffles are amazing. Possibly the best I've had. They are so incredibly intensely flavored. So I went back home, ate a truffle, had some tea, and wrote about my day.
However, it didn't all work out quite as intended.
First, I went to the Paris catacombs. I'm sort of morbidly curious about them, and going on a nice day would seem like a waste of a nice day, so today was as good a time as any. Unfortunately, I think everyone else had the same idea, and there was a very long line to see them. I don't mind lines occasionally, but I've stood in a lot of them lately, and standing in line outdoors for a long time to get into the catacombs would be a bit silly as part of the point of my going was to spend some quality time in the comparatively warm depths of the earth.
After seeing the line for the catacombs was prohibitively long, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do next, but I saw some signs for the Montparnasse Cemetery. I think this post is making me seem a bit strange, but I'm not really usually the sort of person who wants to spend lots of time in cemeteries or crypts or catacombs. But I guess I had already talked myself into going somewhere slightly creepy today, the cemeteries in Paris are typically regarded as tourist destinations, there didn't seem to be other landmarks of interest in the area, and I wanted to get something out of my trip down there before jumping back on the metro train.
I went into the Montparnasse Cemetery, which was lined with large mausoleums, all packed in shoulder to shoulder. I didn't intend that last sentence to be literal, but looking at it, I suppose it is. I walked around a bit, and came to a sign listing the names and locations of some notable... umm... residents? of the cemetery. I didn't recognize any of the names, except for noted mathematician Henri Poincaré, so of course I went and found his tomb. The tomb is for the Poincaré family (photos to come in a few weeks). Its dimensions are what I'd think of for a burial site for just one person in our more spacious, decadent American cemeteries, I suppose like our more spacious, decadent elevators, train seats, and hotel rooms. So, I can only conclude that Henri is down there sandwiched in a stack of the corpses of his beloved family.
I told Henri that it was nice to visit him, that I was sure he'd heard about his conjecture being proved true, and that I am about to visit the institute named after him, which I haven't seen yet, but hear is very nice. There were several aging metro tickets sitting on top of the memorial, weighed down by small stones from that path. I guessed they were left by people meaning to indicate that the grave had been visited. I suppose leaving a metro ticket does seem to say something along the lines of "Hi, I made a trip out here specifically to see you," so I left my used train ticket as well.
After visiting Henri, I decided I felt unmotivated to continue wandering around in the grey chill in order to see the rest of the Montparnasse Cemetary, so I continued with part 2 of my original plan for staying indoors, which consisted of visiting the covered passages, which were in a more central part of Paris. These passages date back to the 18th and 19th centuries, and although they fell into disrepair, they've been restored relatively recently (so I've read) and are now full of cute second-hand shops and so on. The photos I saw online looked very steampunk, so I thought they'd be interesting to see. However, it turns out that the passages are kind of hard to find, and since the restoration is relatively recent, they weren't marked on all my maps. So again, my plan for finding these covered passages and browsing bookshops in the warmth just resulted in me spending lots of time outside looking confusedly at my various maps. I did find them eventually, and I suppose they were worth seeing once.
When I didn't find the passages immediately, I decided that I would do better with something warm in my stomach since it was getting late and I hadn't eaten for awhile. I also really wanted to sit down. A couple of days ago I decided it would be good to do a little circuit training with lots of lunges and squats, and now walking around is really difficult. So, I settled randomly on a little café which didn't seem terribly nice inside, but it was inexpensive, and I told myself that it was probably fine, just less touristy or something. Unfortunately I was served the grossest meal I've had at a restaurant in awhile. The texture of the croque monsieur was all mushy (in a bad way, not a lovely way, because sometimes food is mushy in a nice way, like mushy peas), and it came with a rubbery looking, slightly withered hot dog. I ate the fries that came with it, and started in on the sandwich, but once the edge was off my hunger, I couldn't bring myself to finish it. I didn't have the heart to tell the waiter how horrible it was, or the energy to come up with how to adequately express my disdain in French, which is strange, since one would think that French is a particularly good language for expressing disdain. Maybe the "expressing disdain" unit in the French program at Berkeley comes in a different course than the one I took. I ordered a cup of coffee for after the meal. I thought it would perk me up a bit, and the espressos they serve here seem pretty uniform and hard to screw up. But it was the worst espresso I've had since arriving. It was a too bitter, so I added a lump of sugar, which made it, somehow, worse. I felt just a twinge of homesickness, the first I've felt since getting here.
I was tempted to go back to the place I was staying, eat something tasty, and crawl into bed early in the day, but I hardened my resolve to see at least something of what I had set out to see, and so I found the covered passages. I suppose it was worth seeing them to satisfy my curiosity, but none of them really had anywhere I wanted to shop, although to be fair, I'm not here for shopping. There were lots of people inside them, taking photos of the wrought iron light fixtures and mosaic tile floors.
After I was satisfied that I'd seen all of the covered passages that I had hoped to see, I took the train home. Unfortunately it seemed like the best way to get back on the RER line was to change at the Chatalet station, which I really dislike, because it is phenomenally crowded. I thought I had gotten used to crowds a bit by living in the bay area, but this is much more crowded. Plus, when changing train lines, it sometimes seems like I have to walk through miles of underground tunnel to get there. To be fair, Chatalet does have those moving walkways like at airports, but they're often not just flat, but angled up and down, which I find rather unsettling.
Once I got back to where I'm staying, I decided it was time for a special trip to the bakery, so at least this day has a happy ending. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted, so I asked the woman working there if she had any suggestions. She suggested that maybe I wanted some chocolate, and that the truffles are made in house, so I got a few. So far it has gone really well when I ask people what the house specialty is rather than just choosing at random. These truffles are amazing. Possibly the best I've had. They are so incredibly intensely flavored. So I went back home, ate a truffle, had some tea, and wrote about my day.
Monday, December 26, 2011
The revival of my travel blog
So the stars aligned and I'm staying in France for a month. I have funding to go to a conference, the vacant apartment of a friend who is out of town, a sudden gap in my schedule, and newly improved French after taking a course last semester, so it seems like the best time for it.
I want to write a bit about how I spend my time so that I remember it better, and some people seem to be curious about it as well (which surprises me because I'm extremely boring). So, I decided to revive my travel blog from a couple of years ago. It was called Grinnell-in-Cambridge, as a play on the names of Grinnell's study abroad programs, but since it's been a long time since I've been at Grinnell, and I'm not in Cambridge, I've decided to retitle it "Where in the World is Katrina Sandiego?" for a bit of 80's and 90's nostalgia. And also since I wish I were an international supervillain capable of stealing all the beans from Lima.
Unfortunately, I won't be able to get my photos off of my camera and onto my computer while I'm here (really, I checked all the possibilities and I just can't right now) so this will be a very wordy blog for quite sometime, but I promise there are some good photos, and I will put them up after I return home in a few weeks.
I want to write a bit about how I spend my time so that I remember it better, and some people seem to be curious about it as well (which surprises me because I'm extremely boring). So, I decided to revive my travel blog from a couple of years ago. It was called Grinnell-in-Cambridge, as a play on the names of Grinnell's study abroad programs, but since it's been a long time since I've been at Grinnell, and I'm not in Cambridge, I've decided to retitle it "Where in the World is Katrina Sandiego?" for a bit of 80's and 90's nostalgia. And also since I wish I were an international supervillain capable of stealing all the beans from Lima.
Unfortunately, I won't be able to get my photos off of my camera and onto my computer while I'm here (really, I checked all the possibilities and I just can't right now) so this will be a very wordy blog for quite sometime, but I promise there are some good photos, and I will put them up after I return home in a few weeks.
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