The Real Madrid

We set out for Madrid and were running right on schedule to meet our host until we learned that the metro line we needed was closed all month just one stop before our transfer. With a quick detour, we made it to Legazpi, an area in southern Madrid that used to be a bit sketchy but has been improved in the past couple of years (according to a nice man we met on the metro). We met Lorenzo, who took us to the apartment that was less than a block away from the metro stop and had air conditioning. It was in the upper 80's our entire stay so having A/C was a major plus, even if there wasn't WiFi in the place. We headed straight to the grocery store and bought fixings for some loaded chicken burritos that Joe made while I collapsed onto the bed where I provided moral support.

Our burrito feast

Stomachs full, we headed into the city to find a radio tower that had incredible views from the top. We successfully found it, but it was completely closed off. The barrier was covered in graffiti, which we discovered was the case with most of Madrid. Had we done proper research ahead of time, we would have learned that the tower was closed due to funding and had been for over a year. Womp womp. We wandered aimlessly around the university in a very disappointing part of the city. Once we had a map, we located the park we were looking for and walked over to the Royal Palace, where the atmosphere was much livelier, as in there were actually people there. The gardens surrounding the palace are neat but most of it was closed off for construction. Every bench that was there, however, was occupied by a couple sucking face, sometimes literally - the PDA in Madrid is borderline obscene. We stopped in the Real Basilica de San Francisco, a huge cathedral that was very colorful on the inside despite having a pretty drab exterior. From there, we headed back towards the park to see the Templo de Debod at sunset, a set of stone structures sitting in a reflection pond. We decided to grab some ice cream and find a bench to chill in the park for a bit before we went home and sat by a group of dogs at an impromptu play date.

In front of the Royal Palace and covered in bug bites

The next morning we stopped by one of the two Crystal Palaces (Palicio de Cristal) in Madrid. This one was close to our place and was a giant greenhouse divided into four different climate zones. Then we headed over to the Botanic Gardens in the center of the city where we wandered through a rose garden, fruit and vegetable garden, and an impressive dahlia collection. Just down the street was the Caixaforum, a modern art museum that was 'free.' The building features an entire exterior wall covered in plants of different varieties. It turned out that entry into the cool looking building was free but you had to pay to get into the exhibits, so we looked around the store before making our way onward to one of Ernest Hemingway's favorite bars, Museo Chicote near the Prado.

Despite our research, the bar did not open for another five hours. Unsuccessful plans would be the theme of our time spent in Madrid. We walked back to the Prado Museum, where we had planned on going during the free hours in the evening and contemplated buying tickets until we saw the price. Free hours it would be! With both of us growing increasingly frustrated, we decided we needed WiFi to make any proper plans and headed to the Starbucks on the corner - not like either of us were disappointed to get coffee, either. Armed with directions to two free museums nearby, we again took off, only to find that the first free museum had closed an hour earlier and the second free museum was closed for renovations. We still had over an hour until the bar opened so we found a square, some shade, and a place to sit down to wait it out.

Stopping to smell the roses...

...then stopping to drink some Starbucks

When we finally made it to Museo Chicote, it was clear that people usually do not show up immediately as we were the only people in there for the duration of our visit. The prices on the cocktails were steep so we only had one each, although they were both delicious (and strong, too). We enjoyed the free potato chips and the Lady Gaga album blasting in the old bar and ventured back to the Prado for another attempt. After a quick wait for our free tickets, we got into the museum and completed the first floor during the two hour allotment. The Goyas were the favorite for both of us, and his black paintings were both impressive and disturbing. Even though 'Saturn' is unsettling, you can't seem to look away.

Our itinerary exhausted, we made it back to our 'hood and picked up pizza a few doors down before walking over to the Matadero, a cultural space in an abandoned slaughterhouse that has a number of restaurants, exhibition spaces, and a cinema. This was one of our favorite places in all of Madrid, and we would later return a few times. We caught a free documentary, screened in a crazy movie theater made whose backlit walls looked woven out of thick black cable, about the 1956 Hungarian-USSR Olympic water polo match, explained in the context of the Hungarian Revolution. A fun tidbit about the film: it's narrated by Mark Spitz, whose swim coach growing up was one of the players on the Hungarian team.

The Papa Doble and the Sazerac

Third Time's the Charm...?

After two days of mostly failed plans, we woke up with renewed hope of a better day in Madrid. We started at Las Ventas, the main bullfighting arena, where we took a tour of the stadium. Unfortunately, bullfights are held on Sundays and we were leaving for Valencia on Sunday so we wouldn't be able to see an actual fight. Only one bull's life has ever been pardoned at Las Ventas and it went on to live a nice life in the meadows according to our audio guide. We then headed to Museo ABC, a free museum that houses prints from the magazine Blanco y Negra, as well as a huge collection of 80's posters and prints. The museum wasn't recommended on any travel sites but is very underrated—we enjoyed the exhibitions and special artist installations thoroughly, and the architecture is cool too.

Learning the rules of bullfighting at Las Ventas

Museo ABC's 80's exhibit

We then walked to Plaza Puerta del Sol to find a nearby convent with famous almond cookies made by the nuns. However, we were informed when we arrived that they were all sold out for the day. We made plans to return in the morning and walked back to the Palace to visit the Alumeda Cathedral, a recently completed building that is very white inside, with an impressive multicolored ceiling and modern stained glass. The suggested donation is mandatory to enter the church, which may ease some of their Catholic guilt to advertise, even though the fee is certainly not optional. Same goes with the Crypt below the church so we skipped it and headed to find tapas at Calles Cava Baja and Cava Alta. A lot of the restaurants didn't open until much later and we were fairly hungry so we found a reasonably priced menu and ordered pork with cheese sauce, duck and oranges, meatballs, and roasted red pepper with cheese and Bearnaise sauce with some wine and cava on the side, naturally. The owner even made us a little dessert of strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate shavings that came with our bill. Not totally full, we went to the next block over for a very cheap bucket of beer and not one but two orders of patatas bravas (this was all Joe). Now stuffed, we dragged ourselves back to the apartment to gather our computers and headed back over to the Matadero, where we sat outside and drank a delicious concoction of red wine and lemon soda that I couldn't resist, and caught a bit of the jazz band playing in the courtyard before calling it a night. 

So many tapas. Dessert not pictured.

Madrid 2020

First things first, we went straight to the monastery to find our nun cookies, only to discover that they were closed until Monday. We would never have the cookies! At least until we return to Madrid. From there, we walked to Plaza Chamberi, where you can tour Station 0, ghost metro station that was deserted after they built new lines in the 60's. It isn't super exciting but it is definitely neat to see a station empty like that without any people or trains, with the original advertising peeling off the white tile walls. We then went on to look for a restaurant that my mom had recommended that was nearby, but wandered around unsuccessfully for nearly an hour before I was about to lose it and requested a coffee shop stop. Toma Cafe was small, trendy and had not only iced espresso but also cold brew! We were in heaven. Got our caffeine fix, loaded a map with WiFi, and saw that the restaurant was one block off the park we had been circling. We ordered two portions of the eggplant 'French toast,' although we could have done with one, and some grilled asparagus. The eggplant was lightly battered and fried then drizzled with honey, and was very tasty. We were upset to see that they had charged us for the bread that they gave us without us ordering it but my mom was nice enough to cover the cost after I pointed out it was partly her fault - thanks Mom!

Mmm eggplant

At Retiro Park

We walked over to Retiro Park, a huge park in the heart of the city. We stumbled upon the main stage for the Olympic bidding party, which we quickly learned was that night. The streets were slowly being closed from traffic and people were gradually gathering around the speakers and screens. We toured Retiro and stopped in an extension of the Reina Sofia museum filled with contemporary art from a Spanish artist. By the time we left the park, the celebration was in full swing, so I got one of the balloons they were handing out and we watched part of the speech for Madrid's candidacy before going back for another free two hours at the Prado. The announcement wasn't until nine, so after the museum we headed to another one of Hemingway's favorite bars, Cerveceria Alemania. The interior was vintage and the waiters all wore jackets, seemingly unchanged since the days of Papa Ernesto. After some beers and a bocadillo, we made our way back to the festivities, walking down the middle of Gran Via, one of the busiest roads in Madrid. We stood next to the fountain in the middle of the roundabout, which would be impossible under normal circumstances, and heard the announcement that Madrid was eliminated as a candidate. Bummer. Mostly because there was a huge fireworks display planned for later and we could only imagine the party that the city would have turned into had it won. Somewhat disheartened, we returned to the apartment to pack up our things and prepare for Valencia in the morning. 

Channeling Hemingway's drinking spirit (was there any other?)

Pobre Madrid

The Lands of Wine and Tapas

A bit misleading title, because basically all of Europe is the land of wine, and basically all of Spain is the land of tapas. But we're talking prime areas for each here: Bordeaux and San Sebastian (though "pintxos" is the preferred term for "tapas" in Basque country). Writing this post from Geneva, but I believe we left you dear readers back in Paris.

Got into Bordeaux at around 11:00 after a very early train ride which Molly slept through almost entirely, somehow ignoring the extremely loud breather across the aisle. Our (super budget) hotel was quite close to the train station, always a plus with our hefty bags, but we couldn't check in until 2:00 so we dumped them and headed out to explore. Stumbled upon a good portion of the landmarks on our list including medieval archways and main squares. Poked our heads in a couple churches and were cursed at by the beggars outside, but didn't feel bad about it because we were suckered in by the sob story of the first one to approach and gave him two Euro. Stopped for coffee and ice cream—Molly was overjoyed to find iced coffee options—in a little shop along the river promenade.

Bordeaux is a very pretty city especially in the historic center and along the river (whose eddies swirl brown with mud, but still nice to look at). Large bridge with brick arches underneath near the center of town. Pointed towers and conical tops of buildings. Several towering cathedrals and a gorgeous pillar with sculptures and fountains near the Opera. Not so bustling of course and easier to walk one end to another. The extremely busy shopping area centered around Rue St. Catherine is very new looking with marble streets and somewhat high-end brands.

It's like they knew this would be on our blog.

Molly playing in the reflection pond.

Bordeaux really comes to life at night, when the main bridge and monuments are all lit up along the river, and the reflection pond in this main center area is absolutely stunning. Occasionally flooding or misting, the pond is otherwise a thin layer of water on the concrete reflecting a fountain, a temporary sculpture of a head made of metal letters, and the former palace. The reflection fountain is also surrounded by flower gardens, over which hang colored streetlamps.

At long last.

But we'd yet to see the glory of the bright lights. After our initial probes into the city, we headed back to check in and settle in our room, complete with half-assed nautical theming (even if Bordeaux is 50 miles or so from the ocean). We returned to the city center and did many, many laps of the same few blocks trying to decide what looked good for dinner, settling on fondue at last only to discover it wouldn't open until 19:00. With twenty minutes to the hour we wandered around some more, only to suddenly realize it was about to be 6:00, not 7:00! Stomachs rumbling, we had pre-dinner donuts and coffee/Diet Coke (guess who had which) and finally went back to get our tasty self-fried meat bits.

English French Cinema and The Largest Dune in Europe

The next morning we brunched on fruit and croissants/madelines from a patisserie (god I will miss them) and swung by the local indie theater, called Utopia, to see what might be playing in English. Made plans to return and traveled on. The sports park all along the river is filled with active Bordeaux-ians—it even has a squash court—and street musicians were everywhere, maybe more so than any other city so far. We passed a drum corps and even saw a group of copoceira practicers, a Brazilian sport hybrid of music, mysticism, karate, and dance. Wandered through the Botanical Gardens and past the ruins of a Roman ampitheater, which once held 15,000 people and now is mostly paved over with houses and streets.

Never get tired of baguettes,
meat, cheese and wine.

After getting picnic supplies we went back for our movie, Frances Ha, a black and white English-language film focused on the life of a 27 year old bad dancer living and failing in New York. Pretty amusing and really excellent dialogue. The theater was quite cool and housed in a former church building. Apparently the main screen is above where the altar once stood. Returned to the reflection pond for a picnic of baguette with salami, Dutch cheese, grapes and wine.

Up the next morning and barely missed our planned train to Arcachon on the coast as we didn't have cash. Derp. Grabbed un petit dejuneur at a nearby cafe, then caught the next one. The seaside town was a little less than an hour from Bordeaux. Off the train and onto a bus to visit the Dune du Pyla, largest in Europe. Didn't seem impressive as we approached through the sandy wooded path lined with tourist stores and ice cream shops, but after we shed our shoes and climbed to the top, it revealed its true scale. Crowds dispersed out across the expanse of the dune, which rolled away some distance to the waves below. Ahead were cascading sand bars and an island, to the right a large bay. The left side of the dune stretched far out to a point perhaps 700-1000m away where multicolored paragliders floated in the wind.

Atop the Dune du Pyla.

Descended the longer side ahead of us, the weather perfect for the activity as the sand didn't even burn, and dipped our toes in before getting frites and beers in a small cafe overlooking the surf next to the half-sunken and graffiti-sprayed remnants of WWII bunkers. Climbed back up the Dune and returned to town to catch our train back to Bordeaux, where we picnic-ed again, this time in the nearby sports park.

Started off our final day here by exploring a great indoor open-air market, drinking coffee at a creperie run by a cute deaf couple, and tried a canele on our way out. The small custard-like cake left much to be desired in our opinion. We'll stick to macarons. Swung by Musee d'Aquitane for a historical overview of the Bordeaux region from prehistoric excavations through Gallo-Roman and into the 1700/1800s. Tried to enter the contemporary art musuem as the permanent collections are meant to be free, but there weren't any permanent collections up for some reason so we would have had to pay, and passed. Tried to rent bikes but the location was closed.

Know what would make this even more awesome?
Some tasty appetizers.

Our plans shot, we got tickets for a wine tasting boat cruise "with appetizers"—a major draw for us since it was fairly cheap—and looked for lunch. Molly had been craving a burger, but all of the burger places were closed, too, so after all these closure frustrations we got a bottle of wine and ate at the same place that we grabbed donuts pre-fondue. Napped back at the hotel before our cruise, and upon turning in our keys as required, learned we were apparently supposed to check out the day before. Whoops. Bad Sunday. Paid for a final night then returned to the riverfront to catch our cruise, which did have bottomless wine, friendly fellow travelers, and nice views, but most definitely did not have appetizers, just bread and cheese that soon vanished.

Beach Bound

Train from Bordeaux to Hendaye, where we climbed on a tram to take us to San Sebastian/Donastia (everything has multiple names thanks to Basque). Arrived in the afternoon and checked in at our hostel after walking down the river from the traim station. More like homestay than a hostel proper as it was just some dude named Tato running it out of a large apartment. Filled with noisy Australians, which was fine as we had plans. Beach plans.

Streets of Old Town, San Sebastian.

Out to explore away the evening. The city of San Sebastian is quite small and walkable, with a few bridges including one neat art deco one spanning the river, which dumps into (and is dumped into by) the ocean. To the right of the river is the main surfing beach, tucked into a crescent bay shaped by rocks on one end and cliffs on the other. To the left is Old Town, beyond which are the other two beaches. Very beautiful region where the mountains meet the sea. Smaller mountains than the Rockies, but we don't have azure waves and beaches to complement them. Or tasty tapas.

Yeah, this place is all right.

Wandered through a hilly wooded park, then back along the river to a few squares. Thankful to be able to speak the local tongue, or Spanish I suppose as the local tongue is quite different and loaded with 'x's and 'z's, we ordered coffees and sat in a little park. Perfect weather once again. Into the heart of Old Town, past the impressive Baroque-facaded cathedral and on to the surf-beach area, where we wrote a few postcards from a rocky perch, which afforded views of the many beachgoers—running kids and adults naked and clothed. No big deal here, which is as it should be.

Next we headed up the steep paths of Mount Urgull, a central hill/peak in between the two beaches crowned by a castle-esque fort. On top of the fort, a huge Jesus statue looms, constantly blessing the beaches. I wonder if the surfers pay homage. The fort was first built in the 1000s, the bulk of it added in the 1600s. Incredible views from here, and we killed some time reading our newly acquired paperbacks (hard to read on a screen on the beach, so we prepared ahead of time), and waited for the sun to set past the lighthouse perched on the island in the center of the bay.

After watching the eye of the sun blink out beyond the peaks out past the ocean, we descended through the woods on cobble paths, past a racetrack (?) and came back up into town through a marina, diving back into the alleyways to find some DINNER. It was past 21:00 and we were starving. Settled on a sit-down place instead of tapas due to the serious stomach rumblings, but ended up disappointed in the expensive and unimpressive fare. I was excited to get some paella, but it was brownish white rice (not yellow as it should be), with zero vegetables and hardly any flavor. Molly's nachos were chips with guacamole from a can and some kind of weird tomato sauce. We still devoured it all though.

Tapas, Tapas, So Many Tapas

The next day was spent on the beach. Enjoyed a cloud-free sky and a pleasant swim out to the diving platforms, where Molly showed off her high school swim team skills. After a few hours of baking (which somehow did not result in any burns), we wandered past the Palace and on to some super cool iron sculptures that are soldered into solid rock at the edge of the bay. Holes in the platform floor here allow the wind driven by the waves to rush up beneath your feet, while the seaspray gushes up above the rocks on the southern point.

Post-beach siesta, then out in Old Town for pinxtos and drinks. Went to a cheap place first to get all the staples: tortilla espanola, chorizo, corquettes, champignons, and my personal favorite, fried cod with red pepper sauce. Also tried cidre, which is just cider, but in the region they pour it from on high, and usually while doing behind-the-back type tricks, in order to fizz it up a little extra. We met some folks from Colorado in this bar out for a wedding. Two other Mile High groups to date!

On to a much fancier and more gourmet pinxto bar, which was probably the best food on the trip so far (including what has yet to be blogged) outside of Les Papilles. I had salmon cubes, raw, cured in-house and topped with caviar. Also tried steak with two sauces, a vegetables cheese wrap, and the highlight (for me as Molly declined), the house foie gras. So fatty yet delicate and fresh. Rich melty goodness. Sorry for the force fed duck, but man oh man was it good. Also enjoyed a pitcher of sangria and sat by a British couple, who conversed with us for some time about our travels and life in general, buying us a round of cidre to boot. Between the beach and amazing food, this day was a trip highlight for sure.

Next up, the Spanish capital. Stay tuned.

Molly's Macaron Matchup

Before arriving in Paris, I had done considerable research with regards to finding the best macaron. The two main contenders were clear, so I committed to trying a half dozen at each patisserie (I had to give them a thorough assessment). Price was not factored into my evaluation because my purpose was to decide on the best, not the most economical. It was to be a battle between Pierre Herme and Laduree, two colossi of confections. May the best macaron win...

We swung by one of the Pierre Herme locations after lunch one day, which was conveniently located just behind the Conciergerie. Pierre used to be the pastry consultant at Laduree before leaving to open up his own shop. Therefore, much of what Laduree does now was under the advice of Pierre, which poses the question of whether the competition is even fair because it is technically Pierre versus his past self. The store itself was bright, colorful, and modern with the pastries and macarons on one side and a glass display case of chocolates on its opposite. It wasn't very busy so we took our time looking over the selection and talking with the person taking care of us, who was very friendly and eager to help. She packaged the macarons nicely and properly on their side in a bag that was sealed tightly and even after making our choices, she stepped to the side to chat with us about Pierre Herme and my macaron quest. 

The assortment at Pierre Herme

The only thing better than chocolate is pretty chocolate

Caramel, Jardin andalou, Raspberry, Banana, Mogador, & Arabesque

Our Pierre Herme selection:

- Caramel with fleur de sel

- Mandarin orange and red berries with olive oil "Jardin andalou" - August Flavor of the Month

- Milk chocolate and passion fruit "Mogador"

- Apricot and pistachio "Arabesque"

- Veloute banana

- Veloute raspberry

The consistency was alright - they were soft the whole way through and chewy but not sticky. The downside was that the shell had no crispness, so the texture was limited in that way. The flavors were fantastic - creative, strong, and complex. Joe's favorite of the bunch was the banana yogurt. It had a great flavor and the yogurt made it tart. My favorite was the Arabesque, which had a piece of pistachio praline in the center. I loved both the flavors and the pairing of them was really well done. Even better, the ganache is not thickened with cream but with dried apricots, making it all flavor and no fluff. The Mogador is their most popular flavor and while it was interesting, it wasn't my favorite combination. The Jardin andalou was tasty - it took a second to taste the olive oil but it changed the flavor entirely. The caramel was slightly burnt in the caramel macaron so it left a bad aftertaste.

Full disclosure: In order to ensure the integrity of this comparison, it must be noted that the pastry chefs at Pierre Herme were on vacation (along with half of Paris). I have no idea if this had any effect on the macarons, only that it was the reason they did not have bread in the store.

Il y a Tout Ce Que Vous Voulez Aux Champs-Elysees

After running through traffic at the Arc (we have been informed there are tunnels to walk through to address this issue), we wandered down the Champs-Elysee on our way to the Eiffel Tower. Sitting amongst the designer stores is Laduree, the oft-crowned winner of the best macaron in Paris challenge, including by Joe's friend who did a stint in Paris. Laduree has 27 stores across the globe where 15,000 macarons are sold every day. They even designed a makeup line based on the colors/flavors of their macarons.

The store is attached to their fancy restaurant and was over-the-top lavish with a lot of gold in the design. They might be the original decorations but it was also very poorly lit, adding to the feeling that it was cold and dated. The staff clearly dealt with a lot of people and could not care less about you or your order - they were only interested in getting you out of the store. The person helping us also tossed our macarons in a bag haphazardly so at least two were broken before we even got to the register. Lame.

The Laduree lineup

Everything gold

Our Laduree selection:

- Coffee

- Orange blossom

- Yuzu ginger

- Vanilla

- Chocolate coconut

- Strawberry candy

The macarons were not as neat as those at Pierre Herme and looked less appealing in general, but that could also be due to the store's dim lights or the unfriendly staff. The consistency was a bit better than Pierre Herme only because the macarons had a tiny bit of crunch in the shell. Otherwise, they were similarly soft throughout and chewy but not gummy. Joe's favorite flavor was the strawberry candy, which was covered in pink granulated sugar in addition to being extremely sweet. The orange blossom was good but was too heavy on the floral flavor, and the yuzu ginger had not as much ginger taste as it did a general spiciness. Not surprisingly, my favorite flavor of the group was the chocolate coconut and while it could have used a bit more of each flavor, it was the standout overall.

In the interest of research, we also tried a strawberry macaron from McDonald's and unfortunately, they probably had the best shell out of all three. However, it was a bit dry and the flavor was just average. Even without taking into account the staff and storefront appeal (although Pierre Herme blew Laduree out of the water so it's difficult to not factor it in), the flavors at Pierre were ultimately better - unique, delicious, and well-executed. All things considered, I would return to/recommend Pierre Herme over Laduree any day.

Paris Pt Deaux

As we've already been to three cities since Paris, let's get you caught up, shall we?

The fifth day in the City of Lights opened gray and spitting rain. Luckily it was a museum day, starting with a quick Metro trip to the Louvre, where we descended below the glass pyramid to flash our museum passes and join the throngs. The place is enormous and formerly the royal residence of several figureheads including Napoleon. Amazing ceilings. As we had other items on the never-ending list, we were rushed through the museum and still spent over four hours there in total. The mob at the Mona Lisa is a sight to behold; you can barely see the painting from the back. Everyone is in a frenzy to take a crappy picture of a painting they could easily find on the internet in much higher quality, just to prove they were there. Why not check in on Foursquare or something instead?

Braving the rain for the sake of culture.

Look, I know they love the man,
but this is a little bit much.

From the Louvre we headed to the Musee l'Armee in Les Invalides, a collection of buildings housing a variety of museums and exhibits focused on French military history. We practically ran through a (very cool) Charles Degaulle exhibit as we had already covered much of WWII back in Manchester and the musuem was closing soon. Got a nice overview of the Napoleonic era and saw a bunch of crazy outfits and guns. The museum also houses Napoleon's tomb, a comedically large coffin for such a supposedly small man. Like, really huge. Impressive building through with domes and a spooky entrance below to the crypts.

Art piece—a disorienting cave—you can
walk in at the Pompidou.

To continue our Tour de Musee, we returned to the square outside Centre Pompidou and had a snack of wine, Nutella crepe and croque monsieur, successfully ordering in French. Finished off the remaining level of this museum with contemporary modern art from the 1950s and 60s onward. Some thought provoking and just plain wacky material (of course). Headed back to the flat to crash, thankful it had stopped raining about mid-day.

Kept on the museum train by swinging by l'Orangerie in the AM, a museum that houses Monet's 'Water Lilies' series, which just got better the longer we gazed at them. Walked through Tuilleries, the garden stretching behind the Louvre all the way to l'Orangerie, and met a couple on holiday from Littleton, Colorado! Small world indeed. Molly's eagle eye was quick to spot a Rockies hat across the street. She wasn't sure if they would be from CO, but I assured her no one else would be wearing Rockies gear.

Some Frenchmen Are Rude In Fact

In search of coffee and maybe a snack, we decided to sit down at this patio despite the overpriced menu outside. Hey, it had a variety of coffees, right? Though our waiter started off ingratiating, the chubby man degraded fast.

"Nos voudron cafe. Aves vous un drink menu?" we inquired.

"Oui, oui, cafe, deaux cappuccino, no?"

"No, no cappucino, merci, un menu avec cafes."

He brought us English menus and went off to help other people. These menus did not have all of the drinks listed on the first menu we had seen, so we asked again for a menu with drinks.

"No drink menu!" he said, getting exasperated, despite the chalkboard behind him also listing a variety of drinks not on the menus in front of us. After several more attempts, he took away our menus and dismissed us entirely with a "Thank you, goodbye." So be it: down the street we grabbed wonderfully cheap coffee, a tartelet, and a chocolate croissant and ate them on the lawn in front of the Louvre.

Next we wandered to the cinema Pagode, a very cool pagoda style building with a nice garden in front that sadly had no English films at the time. To continue our tour de cinema, we tried to visit the cinema museum, a long trek way across to the east in Bercy, only to discover it was closed—for the next month! This was not on their website. Quite disappointing as they have some great stuff like the head from Psycho and one of the Lumieres' cameras.

Meandered through a nice park in Bercy and along the river back to our flat, stopping to grab salad fixings, the obligatory baguette, and CHEAP wine (3 euro and still super delicious). After dinner I was exiting the bathroom and the precariously balanced ironing board inside fell over, completely blocking the door from opening. Luckily some scrabbling about on the floor and improvised poking instruments averted the crisis.

You Knew These Landmarks Were Coming Eventually

That evening found us atop L'Arc du Triomphe (400 steps or so), after playing Frogger to cross the traffic circle around it that for some reason has no crosswalks despite 12 avenues dumping into it. Excellent views of nightime Paris, with the Eiffel Tower a shining beacon a short distance away. We walked down Champs Elysses and stopped to get our second batch of macarons at Lauderee (not as good as Pierre Herme—but more on that from Molly later). Strolled over to the Eiffel Tower and then on to the Metro, past the savvy dudes hawking bottles of champagne in the park next to the Tower.

The view from les tours du Notre Dame.

The next day we drank our coffee in line for Notre Dame, an incredible building that took over 200 years to complete. Many workers labored for free knowing they would never see it finished. Enjoyed the views from the towers among the gargoyles. Descended and walked to a true highlight of the trip so far: the prix fixe menu at Les Papilles, a small neighborhood bistro close to the Pantheon. The feast started off with gazpacho ladled family-style over fresh goat cheese, bacon, croutons, and accoutrements. Followed by seared duck breast and vegetables in a honey glaze, then a creamy blue cheese course with a sweet date and vinaigrette, and finished with strawberry panna cotta. All accompanied by bread of course. Highly recommend this spot for anyone in the area.

I am drooling just thinking about Les Papilles.

Rounded out our museum visits that afternoon with a walk to the Rodin museum, located at the hotel in which the sculptor lived. Immaculate gardens outside housing his most famous work including the Thinker and the astoundingly detailed and somewhat disturbing The Gates of Hell. Ended the day at Musee d'Orsay, fine art housed in a former train station. In a bit of a rush as usual, but still made it through the excellent Impressionist wing, with highlights including Monet and Sisley.

Rental Cars and Champagne Mecca

Our final day in Paris dawned, and Molly was set to make her pilgrimage to her very own holy grail: the Vueve Cliquot caves in Reims. We rented a car but were behind schedule of course. Upon arriving we requested a GPS unit to stick in our budget rental, but they had none, so we ere forced to upgrade to a Peugot 207CC convertible. Damn. It was an automatic, which was too bad, but it had GPS built in, not to mention the whole convertible bit. We were late though, so we didn't stop to figure out how to put the top down. Nor did the GPS unit even work; failing to find satellites, it displayed us driving through buildings and across streets in a madcap "Unmapped Zone", as we attempted to navigate the insane Paris traffic on our own. Eventually we made it to the highway, no thanks to our expensive upgrade, and a frustrated Molly yelled at Joe when he remarked that the train would have been much less hassle and, after the upgrade and 10 euro in tolls, less expensive, too.

In the Cliquot caves.
I think the bottle glows like that
all the time for Molly.

But we made it, 10 minutes late for our tour but luckily with another one starting in 20 minutes. A suited Frenchman led us through the caverns beneath the Vueve facilities, dramatically lit in places with splashes of purple and yellow lights. The caverns were first carved by the Romans, entirely by hand, to quarry chalk and stone for the city above. They were expanded for hundreds of years and eventually switched to nice neat grid-type tunnels dug by machine. During the World Wars they were even used to transport troops and set up hospitals unbeknownst to the enemy. We also learned a bit about Madame Cliquot, a strong woman business leader even in the 1800s, who was the first to filter champagne and revolutionized the creation of rose.

The tour ended with a tasting of the Grand Dame, a really damn expensive bottle of champagne if you go buy it somewhere. Delicious and all the more so because we found a half-drunk bottle in the next tasting room, now emptied of its tour participants, and refilled our glasses. We grabbed lunch at a boulangerie in Reims and coffee while we wandered around a bit, then figured out how to take the top down and blasted some Justice (because how could you not blast French electronica in France?) while we took the long route home, avoiding tolls and speeding through the rolling French countryside past windmills, farms, small towns, all kinds of scenicness. This made the car rental absolutely worthwhile.

Made it back in time for rush hour (our second of the day), switching to the new Kanye album because it was recorded in Paris, and successfully returned the car. Frozen pizza for dinner and a long wait at the train station for reservations. Up the next day at the crack of dawn to travel onwards to Bordeaux and the coast.

A Moveable Feast

We arrived in Paris in the late afternoon and were pleased to find our flat was about a block away from the Bastille metro station. The number on the mailbox of our landlord was 7 so we walked up six flights of stairs with our bags, only to reach the top of the building (Joe refuses to use elevators most of the time). After confirming that the apartment was on the 3rd floor, we dropped our stuff off at what would be our home for the next week. We were immediately struck by how intelligent the tenant must be - bookshelves full of neuroscience and psychology books, Russian history textbooks, and endless amounts of classical music along with a piano that was obviously frequently used. He had noted that he didn't have anything expensive so he didn't mind leaving the key outside, but the apartment was loaded with technology. Joe tried to figure out the Apple TV box but my MacBook picked up the infrared remote control and anything Joe clicked on would open something on my computer, which was not amusing to me so his attempt ended quickly.

At the canal in Bastille about a block from our place

First stop was the grocery store down the street - because we actually had a kitchen! When checking out, we discovered that we must weigh the produce ourselves and put stickers on each individual item before taking it to the register, but we managed after some initial confusion. We walked back to our flat to discover the entrance to the building locked - uh oh. Without any wifi signal to search the emails for assistance and a failed attempt to get into the courtyard, we got the attention of our landlord's neighbor, who attempted to yell the code down to us, but the similarly sounding 'trois' and 'A' proved to be an issue. He was kind enough to come let us in (praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster) and after some investigating we found the code written down. An hour in Paris and already two problems overcome. We were on a roll.

In desperate need of some food, we strolled across the canal in search of a bistro that Joe had found online. We successfully navigated and found the bistro (yay), which was closed (boo). Both of us were quite hungry so we wandered a few blocks looking at menus for a reasonably priced dinner. After finally agreeing on a restaurant, we sat down and realized it was an Italian restaurant. We were certainly missing the French experience so far but it was too late to change our minds. We ate, we drank, we went back to the flat and planned the rest of our week in Paris.

The next morning started with breakfast at home before heading to the Pere Lachaise cemetery, where Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde, among others, are buried. The cemetery is huge, overcrowded and apparently prestigious. In order to be interred there, your family must pay a fee each decade or the coffin is removed and relocated to make space for someone who can pay. From there we hit up the Richard Lenoir market, which takes up two city blocks in Bastille every Thursday morning, to pick up lunch. With food in hand, we headed to Luxembourg Gardens for a picnic of bread, cheese, salami, grapes, and wine. This picnic combination has been repeated twice a week since then. The Gardens are immaculately maintained and a perfect place to spend the afternoon.

After walking the majority of the property, we were off to Monmartre in northern Paris to climb to the Sacre Coeur. The view of Paris from the church is unbeatable and the building itself is very impressive. Before heading home, we stopped by Moulin Rouge and saw the famous red windmill. Sadly, neither Nicole Kidman nor Ewan McGregor were there that day but Joe did get pooped on by a bird, which was an acceptable consolation for entertainment. 

On the way up to Sacre Coeur

Cleaning off the pigeon poop

We stopped by a patisserie for our dinner of sugar before searching for a coffee shop. Paris is surprisingly lacking in places to get good coffee, which was a frustration for the entire stay. We ended up at a cafeteria-type place for mediocre espresso where we met three outgoing French women. I got the gypsy vibe from them but they were nice enough and we worked through our mutual language barriers to explain where we were from, what we were doing there, and what our plans were afterwards. They reminded us to be mindful of pickpockets and even offered us some of their Slavic dinner, but we had to retreat after they lit up their tenth cigarette, which were making me incredibly nauseous.

The third day in Paris started at the famed Catacombs. We showed up 30 minutes before it opened and still waited two hours before entering, which is typical of this attraction. The underground network is made up of limestone quarries that were used to build a large portion of the buildings in the city. Later, the space was commissioned for the storage of human remains after the cemeteries became a health hazard. Over 6 million bones are contained in the Catacombs and they aren't sure exactly how far the tunnels reach. It is certainly a creepy place to walk through as you pass pile after pile of bones that once belonged to Parisians. After resurfacing, we walked across the love lock bridge where people have written their names or initials on padlocks and then attached them to the bridge, throwing the key in the river. There are people set up across the bridge selling padlocks for 5-10€ with signs declaring 'Throw away the key and show her you love her.' Joe refused to partake in the ritual, which can only mean that he doesn't truly love me. What is 5€ compared to the knowledge that our lock will be there forever? But 5€ can buy coffee and ice cream, which are much more meaningful in my book anyway.

Dem bones, dem bones

Friday night was our first of two at Rock en Seine, a musical festival held at Parc du St. Cloud on the outskirts of the city. The grounds are the former estate of Marie Antoinette and other various royals and feature ancient looking statutes and waterfalls. It's hard to imagine that the architects would approve of thousands of concert goers descending upon the park each year drinking heavily and making a mess. We made our way to see Tame Impala's underwhelming performance. Both of us agreed that the set list was chosen poorly so what could have been incredible ended up being just alright. After that, we caught part of Alt-J, a British band that is making huge strides in popularity right now. Being a relatively new band, they put on a show that definitely created some fans. Back on the main stage, we saw Franz Ferdinand, who are seasoned rockers and knew exactly how to win the crowd over. They of course played 'Take Me Out,' one of the best dance songs around. The last show of the night for us was Kendrick Lamar, who suffered from technical difficulties and was without sound for at least half an hour. We skipped the headlining DJ that night due to lack of interest and instead missed the crowd traveling back to the city.

At the entrance of Rock en Seine

Some of the remaining statues at Parc du St. Cloud

I can't resist free things. Iced tea AND yellow sunglasses?? Score.

We began our museum circuit on Saturday, starting at the Pantheon. The building was under renovation so there wasn't a lot to see with the exception of the crypts where Voltaire and Marie and Pierre Curie are buried. Nerd alert. Next we stopped by St. Chapelle, a gorgeous cathedral that was built to house the remaining artifacts from the crucifixion, which cost more than the actual church. There are two levels that were used to separate the royalty from the peasants during worship, the upper chamber having intricate stained glass walls that depict entire books of the Bible. Next door was the Conciergerie, a large prison that held people awaiting execution, mostly those who were perceived to be against the Revolution, including Marie Antoinette. The 'security' checkpoint confiscated Joe's corkscrew upon entering the building (he had a knife in the same backpack) and made us check it during the visit. After a brief snack and coffee on the bridge, we headed to the Centre Pompidou, Paris's modern art museum. The building is unique and features tubes along the exterior with escalators to the various galleries. We had a limited amount of time before we had to head back to Parc du St. Cloud so we spent our time on the Modern Level, which featured Picasso and Rembrandt among others. It was definitely one of our favorite museums. 

The exterior of the Pompidou

Looking regal at the Pantheon

We had to cut our Pompidou visit short since we had to venture back to Parc du St. Cloud for Rock en Seine round 2. The metro was conveniently closed at the stop we needed so we were booted off the train and found ourselves staring at the instruction screens with limited ideas on how to proceed. Luckily, we were joined by a number of non-French speakers and together we figured out which bus we needed and where it was. International teamwork for the win! The bus was quite full by the time we got to the venue - at one point, we passed a man leaving the grocery store who could not stop laughing at the sight of the bus. He thought it was very amusing to see all of us crammed in there. We arrived and headed straight to the stage to see Wavves, a pop-punk band from the U.S. Joe was excited to get into the mosh pit for the first time in years, and I was pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoyed their set (from outside the mosh pit, of course). As soon as they ended, there was a mass migration to the main stage where Nine Inch Nails would be performing. I stayed in the crowd for a few songs but ultimately found refuge off to the side where I could sit down with some fellow mellow comrades. I could see the stage and the light show was awesome even from my spot. Joe thought the set was incredibly well performed, which was evidenced by the fact that Trent Reznor was dripping with sweat after about song number two. The French crowd was much tamer for NIN than expected, with Reznor calling them 'more civilized than what we're used to.'

We found each other again after the set and grabbed a snack of frites before heading straight back to the stage to claim a spot for Phoenix. It being a homecoming show for the band (from Versailles), I can't imagine that we will see Phoenix at the same level again. The show was amazing from start to finish. It started sprinkling near the end of the set and the rain in the stage lights looked like an optical illusion. They also shot confetti out of cannons and thousands of fake Francs came floating down on us. The lead singer crowdsurfed all the way to the sound stage, right where we were, and climbed up to thank the crowd. Overall, a phenomenal performance.

Since they were headlining that night, the entirety of the crowd was going to the metro. As the rain picked up, we skipped the closest stop and headed towards the next one a little less than a mile away. By the time we got to the station, we were cold and tired and ready for bed. The first train came and was already packed, so some brave souls squeezed in but we opted to wait for the next one, hoping there was more room. Those of us who waited erupted in cheers as the next train pulled up virtually empty. Patience is a virtue. A group of guys next to us spontaneously sang the French version of 'In the Jungle' and I thought about how thrilled my dad would have been to join in and sing loudly with these strangers. We finally got back to the flat and fell into bed, happy to be out of the rain and off our feet.

The sign of a successful concert