Ooh La Blog

An update from the States...

2011-07-19T14:42:00.000-07:00

So, I'm back home and recovering. Paris kept us on the move, but I'd really like to complete my posts for the trip. If you, my gracious readers, will bear with me, I'll get those finished and up this week. And, given I can't walk much right now (this will probably be included in a post... the Louvre tried to eat me alive from the feet up) and I have some sort of achy-sore-throaty sickness that I contracted either on the metro or from kissing a headstone, I'll have plenty of couch time to share the rest of my adventures with you. I'll see you all very soon.

Au revoir!

Oooooh, that smell.

2011-07-16T12:03:00.000-07:00

Paris day 2 had Mellissa and I wandering the streets sans traveling companion Deanna. Turns out 4 bottles of wine between 3 ladies on Paris evening 1 can spell disaster for some folks. Hard to believe "Very Pamp," the 3 Euro bottles of grapefruit (pamplemousse!) rose we were drinking, are "very pimp" the next day and just want to smack a bitch to keep her in her place. So, we tucked in our girl and set out for some exploring.

A few little dreams came true today... stopped by Cafe des 2 Moulins, the charming little cafe where much of Amelie was filmed. I looked in the back and could practically see her melt into a puddle. At the Musée Carnavalet I saw with my own two eyes (who else's eyes would I see them with? Such a weird term.) Mucha's maidens that were a part of this amazing jewelry store he created for his good pal, Georges Fouquet. Last on the adventure list, a visit to a fromagerie where I picked up my first taste of sheep's cheese and fresh butter. Mel grabbed a couple of goat cheeses. Delicious obviously, but every time we open our fridge in the apartment it smells like a public toilet, or a crime scene littered with bodies that have been dead for a week, or the inside of Satan's oldest pair of sneakers. I'm illustrating a point, and that point is, this cheese stinks like butt. How can something that tastes like it came from Heaven smell like it came out of a diaper. I feel like our other food and drink is being held hostage.

Enough about the stink-ass cheese. Here's my day:

I miss my kids. I'm dog desperate. This will do.

Ducking into the cafe.

A few shots from the Mucha exhibit:

And finally, the evil cheese man:

Gracious me, it's Paree!

2011-07-14T01:27:00.000-07:00

My traveling companions have been oh so sweet in setting up a few surprises for me. The first one? This:

They gave me the Eiffel Tower!

Now that it's mine I'm going to paint it pink and instead of charging admission to go up, people will have to swear their allegiance to me and make cheese and champagne offerings. My throne is at the top. Ascend peasants, I'm waiting.

Ah, if only that were true. Actually, I just didn't know we were going to see the tower on day 1. But, we emerged from the metro and Deanna says, "Amanda" and I look up... there she was. I cried. I do that.

I'm, once again, behind on the blogging, so I'll leave you with the day one highlights, then I'm off to storm the Bastille. Happy Bastille Day friends!

Apt. Dinner. YES.

I'm HERE!!!

And, I'm not doing it right...

I've got the whoooooole Eiffel Tower in my hand.

The Arc is a bitch to get up.

Fa. Real.

Hello boys...

Goodnight, drunken ladies...

International Crime Syndicate

2011-07-12T14:16:00.000-07:00

Three countries, one day. Luxembourg, Belgium and France. Oh, and, before we get too far into this... I didn't blog yesterday, so this is for then and tonight will be today. Right? Ok. Of course, further blogging is dependent upon whether or not Interpol finally catches up with us. We may or may not be wanted in two separate countries for theft.

Our crime spree started in Hautevillers, France. It was a champagne tasting gone wrong. We tasted, we bought champagne, we left. Our crime? We didn't pay our tasting fees. But if stealing champagne is wrong, I don't want to be right. Next, we brought the thunder down on Luxembourg. What was some sort of miscommunication in paying for our meal turned out to be good ol' American dining and dashing. Our only choice in evading capture was to run for the border. And if we couldn't find asylum in Belgium, at least we could find waffles.

Before we're taken into custody, I'll leave you with photographic evidence of our day:

Thefted Kir Royale. Is "thefted" a word?

I did not pay for this tomato.

If we can make it over this bridge, we're in the clear.

Acting like tourists to evade the po-po.

Gadzooks! A fortress!

Contemplating our escape...

A train, suckas!!!

We could have had something Claude Luxembourg. Alas, my poor choices have left our future in ruins. Au revoir! But, there's this topless b*tch giving me the evil eye. She'll prolly put out.

FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!

Something old, something Dizy, something Bouzy

2011-07-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

Lessons learned for today:

Everything here is beautiful, nothing is frivolous. Light posts, city halls, streets. The French seem to be accutely aware of their aesthetics. Everything is cared for. It feels like an acknowledgement that what we see and live with every day affects our souls directly. You can even taste this care for all things good... I have yet to see artificial sweetener anywhere. Yogurt freaks me out and I only eat it because I'm told it's good for me, but I rarely enjoy it. I've eaten yogurt for breakfast both mornings we've been here, and as I type this, I cannot wait to wake up and eat yogurt again. The difference? No aspartame. I ordered a fountain soda today and on the side of the cup there was a representation of what your body looks like with and without too much soda. Two little silhouetted figures with calorie counts next to them, one skinny, one fat. And signs in the restaurant reminding you that too much fast food is bad for you. Subtle reminders to be good to yourself. If I take nothing back home with me, I want to take this... this reminder that what I see and hear and taste and smell and touch changes me, for better or for worse. I get to decide. I can create sanctuaries or cells. I need more sanctuaries in my life.
Pay attention because you're bound to see something amazing. Today I accidentally stumbled upon Dom Perignon's grave and a massive city entrance that was built in the 300s by the Romans. Please read that again... "...that was built in the 300s by the Romans." The 300s! The Romans! And there it was, just... out there. Last night I also almost stumbled on to street puke. Ah, yes, street puke, the universal symbol of indulgence and fun. Like I said... PAY ATTENTION.
Champagne is spectacular, fantastic, delicious and lovely. This was just a refresher, not a new lesson.

Ah yes, proof to both you, my friends, and myself, that I'm actually here (pictures are better than pinches):

The entrance to Dom Perignon's abbey, Abbey d'Hautvillers. Built first in 650AD, destroyed numerous times in numerous battles and built for the last(ing) time by Dom in the mid-late 1600s.

The altar. The church is small, but elegant and breathtaking.

And at the foot of the altar, Dom himself.

Our tour guide through Hautevillers, Stan the Gargoyle. He's the least intimidating gargoyle in town so he's in charge of the office de tourisme.

Champagne anyone?

Don't mind if we do!

I'm your new mom!

Driving along, stumbled upon this humble abode. Ummmm... this is someone's private residence.

And their moat? I'm calling it their moat.

What's this? Oh, this old thing? This is the Porte de Mars... dates back to 3rd century AD. It was the widest Roman arch. That is until until that slut Agrippina rolled into town. Hey-o!

And, we ended the day properly:

A little Dizy...

And a little Bouzy.

Stay tuned my pets... tomorrow we'll be visiting the country of Luxembourg. Bourgda, bourgda!

Today, I tasted the stars...

2011-07-10T01:39:00.000-07:00

In short, I'm overwhelmed. Today (yesterday actually, but I fell asleep when I started this post but to spare the confusion, I'm calling it 'today'... keep up) I walked in caves the Romans first built and that have been used now for nearly 300 years to make the world's finest champagne, I was in the champagne house of a widowed woman who chose success with a comet as her guide, because of a wrong turn I was able to walk through the vines whose fruit will be used to make the champagne that will be used to celebrate a stranger's future joy, maybe my own? And I witnessed one of the most breathtaking sights I've ever seen that was created by men, both ancient and modern.

Here is what I saw, I only wish you were here to see it too:

My very own bottle of Dom... I can pick it up some time in the next 7-30 years.

These line the caves which go on and on, and were used to hold candles before they had electricty. Did I mention the Romans started these caves... the ROMANS.

This barrel was at least as tall as I am. Napoleon brought it over from Portugal for his good pal Moet. It was filled with port.

Our Imperial tasting of Moet & Chandon

I'm hooooooome!

Why yes, that IS a chandelier made out of champagne glasses.

Au revoir Dom...

Bon jour Widow Clicquot...

Into the Veuve Clicquot caves...

Blah, blah, blah, tour, tour, let's drink...

Au revoir for today champagne country...

To close the evening, we watched a light show projected onto the front of an 800 year old cathedral. The experience cannot be matched. I wanted to post some video, but it's not cooperating, I'll try again back in the states. I can just tell you though, it was one of the singular most moving experiences of my life.

I began the day tasting stars, I ended it seeing stars.

Au revoir...

Hostel Territory

2011-07-08T15:59:00.000-07:00

Aaaaaaaaaand... we have arrived! The getting into Paris and picking up the car was an adventure. A four hour long adventure that included an RER (like the subway or the tube, underground transport kiddies) baptism by fire and driving through Paris. Thank god for Mellissa. My sweet peche poulet was nervous about exercising her french and moreso about driving in Paris, but she came through like a champ. And, I have been able to purchase metro tickets and eat and drink wine and check into our hostel, so I say she's doing more than a bang up job.

Hostel territory? Oh right... we're staying at a hostel in Reims for the first few days. We're right by an AMAZING park and I have a shower and a toilet in my room, so that's a lot of wins for the day.

Still battling a bit of exhaustion (funny how travel exhaustion is it's own brand of tired) and delirium, so here are a few bullet points and photos from the day. Tomorrow we hit the champagne houses (Vueve, Moet which is Dom Perignon!) so stayed tuned. K, today went a little something like this:

Standing on a street in Paris, Mellissa and Deanna were tending to some business, so I had my first moment to myself and I look up at the third floor of this apartment building and I see this lovely woman in a black and red dress standing on her balcony smoking. It was a painting and a poem all at once.
On the way to the car rental place we had our first encounter with a sweet and helpful Parisian. He stopped to give us directions... the whole time pointing with the two baguettes he had in his hands. People here seem to carry baguettes everywhere, not even kidding. I think I'm gonna like this place.
In the car Mel turns on the radio and the first song I hear? So Danco Samba by Stan Getz. One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite jazz men. I think I'm gonna love this place.
And then it hit me... after a shower and a brief nap, we walked to dinner. The streets were quiet and exactly what you see in movies and books, then, we turn a corner, and it was a bustling square of shops and restaurants, people everywhere, and the most amazing statue in the middle. I fought back tears. I'm really here. I love this place.

Photographic evidence:

Touching down in France... NO. WAY.

Better pictures of this to come, I'm sure, but look... Paris!!!

And, Reims. Clearly, I'm living in a postcard.

The angel in the square

We showered, now give us wine.

Merci!

Finally, one for the Sisty... my first "real" french fry

FIN... for today

Toronto Can Kiss It...

2011-07-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

My arse that is. And so can my phone. I promise, my attitude will be much improved by tomorrow's post. In short... Monsieur Customs, your attitude is unnecessary. And, phone? Really? Two pictures... that's all I ask. You can't help a madame out?

So... no pics this post. I'll try to remedy this straight away. We're safe and sound in Toronto, however. And Air Canada isn't kidding, they really are the quietest airline. So lovely. Too bad they suck at all things guest service. I dunno, I'm two rum and cokes in, I'm light on waxing philosophical right now. Ima gonna go. We'll meet across the pond.

Bisoux!

Au revoir America!

2011-07-07T01:50:00.000-07:00

T minus... um, like SEVEN HOURS... WHOA. Today was dumb crazy so it wasn't until I got out of the car at about 9:30pm and headed into the bar for a little pre-Paree night cap that I got officially excited. Officially excited... like the ambassador of excited came down and stamped my forehead. Eff you guys... let me get this out of the way for you all... must've been one big stamp! Everyone's a comedian.

Anyhoodyha (as me sis would say), I'm about to power down for, what I'm hoping, is the perfect amount of rest that will keep me from wanting to puke when I wake up at 5am, but will still allow me to fall asleep between the hours of, uh, night time and morning time heading, well, you know... that-a-way, and thought I'd leave you with this:

As you can see, Mellissa has a picture of the Eiffel Tower in her living room. I'm not really sure why she needs to go to Paris. But, whatever, she's teaching me French cuss words and I think she also knows how to ask where the bathroom is (more effectively than what I was going to go with... 'pardon, where-o is the shittier?') so I'm not questioning her motives.

One final thought before my slumber... PARIS!!!

A New Independence...

2011-07-04T17:31:00.000-07:00

In just 10 short days from our own independence I'll be witnessing first hand, a real deal, under the Eiffel Tower, Bastille Day Celebration. Apparently, the celebration is a two-parter. The night before Bastille Day (Bastille Day Eve... Le 14 juillet... how cute is that?) there are lots of celebrations about town, but the ones with the biggest draw and, what I'm counting on, the most "colorful" experiences, are what the French call Le Bal Des Pompiers, or Firemen Balls. Saying "Firemen Balls" never gets old. Ever. It's funny every time. Just be prepared, every story I ever tell about my trip to France will include comments such as, "Man, the Firemen Balls were awesome," or, "I really miss the Firemen Balls." And, I haven't perfected it yet, but given France's national colors, you can count on me coming up with the perfect Fireman's red, white and blue balls joke.

Now, here _____________, is where I was going to link to a Le Bal Des Pompiers (you know, the Firemen Balls) video. But, all the ones I could find included stripping firefighters or grainy tourist footage. And, while the stripping firefighters certainly have their appeal, I'm attempting to keep this blog at the very least, PG 13. Says the girl who's written the word "balls" 7 times in this post and giggled every time.

Anyhoo... part two of the celebration is actual Bastille Day, July 14. The day kicks off with a parade and ends with this:

Ooh, la, la indeed...

Awwwwww, ma famille, mes amis...

2011-06-28T01:28:00.000-07:00

As much as I want to be daydreaming about Paris until my voyage, work has been taking up the majority of my brain space as of late. And, then, this afternoon... an unexpected and lovely reminder of my upcoming adventure courtesy of my lovelies... my family and my friends.

Here's a snap of my bouquet of goodies:

Auntie Arleen sent along what her and my mom would call some "walking' around money," which, at least twice since I opened the envelope I've had to remind myself contains actual, spendable cash (it's so sparkly and pretty!), an "important docs" holder for... well, my important docs, some tres chic jewelry so I'll be properly accessorized, plug thingies, and, perhaps most valuable... some sound travel advice. Then, last week, the ravishing Madame Davis and the adorable Garcon Matthias gave me an Eiffel Tower luggage tag and some perfumed soaps, "Auntie Manda, you put them in your luggage so it smells good on your trip." Also, notice the handmade "Bon Voyage" card? Perhaps the young Matthias is a budding Monet.

And, then, a card from Sisty that reads:

"Sweet Baby Sis - There's no place like home... but Paris has got to be a close 2nd! Thought you could use your very own pair of "ruby slippers" to guide you safely along the way. These are special ruby slippers because they are practical, sensible & comfortable. They are what Dorothy would have worn had she been a lesbian."

And THESE:

These, ladies and gents, are sparkly red Crocs. My sister is a GENIUS. And for those of you who aren't aware... rudy slippers are ever our homage to our mama. So, thanks sisty, for making sure mom will be with me every step of the way!

Another reason why Sisser is my hilarious and spectacular treasure? Here is how she signed the card:

"...always know that we will be waiting at the "end of the rainbow" to hear of your adventures.

Oui amor you mucho,
A B C & D"

I am one lucky girl...

2 WEEKS!!!

2011-06-23T16:06:00.000-07:00

Dead Folks

2011-06-21T15:14:00.000-07:00

We're going to Père Lachaise Cemetery. Here's my list of awesome dead folks I'm going to go see:

Georges-Pierre Seurat

Gertrude Stein

Alice B. Toklas

Oscar Wilde

Any other suggestions? I'd be happy to snap a photo of your favorite interred individual.

What's up Frenchy McFrenchface?

2011-06-19T15:21:00.000-07:00

I've been wondering when, précisément, this Francophilia of mine began. Merde if I know. But I do know WHY I love all things French. Intéressé? Well, you're here, and you're still reading this, so I'm assuming the answer is "oui," so here goes:

1. Amelie - boy, do the French know how to make films (Umbrellas of Cherbourg being an exception... oh and that film where that guy throws himself off of a bridge because some girl he almost ran over with his car wouldn't run away with him, and some other woman falls down a flight of stairs and starts bleeding out her ear... I digress):

2. Music - No one else has Edith:

3. Cheese - I don't have to justify a fascination of a country that loves its cheese.

4. Wine - or its wine.

5. Art - It's one thing that France has inspired its own to greatness; Rodin, Degas, Renoir. But, it seems that artists of every ilk and every genre found their muse (or simply acceptance) here - Picasso, Josephine Baker, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Perhaps a Parisian muse will find me too. She'll have a lot to overcome though. You know, like my lack of an attention span and any sort of cultivated talent. Whatever, it's her job to figure that out.

6. Style - c'est magnifique!

7. Kissing - c'mon... french kissing? FRENCH kissing... they invented the best kind of kissing!

Paris... a dream realized

2011-06-16T18:18:00.000-07:00

Read silently to yourselves (mouthing the words, if necessary) in your best French accent:

This is the story of a girl, earthbound by her fear of flying, but driven by wanderlust to overcome and one day set foot on the cobbled streets of Paris.

K, you can quit with the accent. I'm going to Paris next month and I'm super stoked about it. And, rather than burn up Facebook with daily photos and anecdotes, I came up with this... my Ooh La Blog. Those of you who are interested to see me live my dream can do so right here.

Le details: July 7-18, I'll be living it up French style. Only with more showers and less smuggery.

Le Travel Companions:

Mademoiselle Mellissa et Madame Deanna

What I'll be drinking:

Where I'll be eating:

Check back in the days leading up. I'll be posting things I'm all giddy about seeing and venting about any old anxieties that may creep up. I just may need your advice, so come visit me.

Au revoir!