Chocolate, Chocolate and Still More Chocolate

Today was the day I finally braved the Paris subway system. I've spent my first few days walking as far as my feet would carry me; but now, I've mostly run out of places that are quickly accessible by foot. I'd been reluctant to descend into its depths because of all the warnings I had read about pickpockets which are rampant on the Paris subways. But I kept telling myself, it couldn't be any harder to master than the New York or Rome subways. So, I finally took the plunge all because of chocolate--my biggest vice.

The Salon du Chocolate Show arrived in Paris a couple of days after I did. It is a 5 day extravaganza of chocolate decadence with some wine and champagne mixed in to help clear the palate. And let me tell you after an hour of tasting chocolate samples, you begin to look for anything that isn't made of chocolate, no matter how much you love it. There is so much chocolate it's almost overwhelming. Piles and piles of chocolate as far as the eye can see--truffles, bars, dipped fruit, chocolate shaped like flowers, sculpture, chocolate fountains, liquid chocolate to drink, paintings and even dresses adorned with chocolate.

For the last two years I've attended the annual chocolate show in New York City. But, Paris is the grand-daddy of them all. The Salon du Chocolate draws the finest chocolatiers from all over the world--Europe, Mexico, Brazil, Russia, Japan, and the Ivory Coast just to name a few. If you can make it from chocolate, it was on display for tasting or purchase at the show.

My favorite chocolatier to watch is Mary's chocolate from Japan. Aside from the interesting and unusual flavors (like green tea ganache), they're always making something unique. This year they were making chocolate origami.

I had a lovely chat with a Canadian chocolatier from Alberta. She had one of the heaviest Canadian accents I've heard in ages. I think she was just as happy to get to speak English for a bit as I was.

The most interesting sample I tried today was from Mexico. It was some sort of chocolate fondue that had meat in it with a chocolate cinnamon flavor with just a hint of spice and heat. The mixture was drizzled over bread and it was just out of this world. I went back later for a second taste, but they were all out.

And if you got tired of tasting chocolate, there was plenty of entertainment from cooking demonstrations to Mexican dancers on a stage.

By the time I had spent two hours there, I was in chocolate overload. I bought a box of unusual Japanese chocolates to take to my coworkers and a couple of little chocolate pieces for myself and then scooted out of there. There is only so much chocolate even a chocolate lover can take in one day. Generally, after attending one of these shows, I don't even want to see or smell chocolate for several days afterward. The New York chocolate show is the weekend after I come home, but I think I'll skip it this year. It can only be anti-climatic after Paris. Maybe some day I'll make it to one of the shows in Moscow, Tokyo, or Beijing. But, I can officially say that I'm all chocolated out for now.

From the Cluny to the Luxembourg Gardens

I've always hated getting wet. So, needless to say, when I woke up this morning to a wet, gloomy Paris, I promptly rolled over and went back to sleep on the grounds that I was still fighting off jet lag. Around 11:30, I finally mustered up the energy to peer underneath the blinds of the floor to ceiling windows in my hotel room. It was still a little gloomy, but at least it had stopped raining.

While the sky was still heavy with clouds, the temperature was pleasantly in the mid-60s. I was actually a little warm in my lightweight sweater. I noticed, however, as I made my way though the Île de la Cité towards the Latin Quarter, the French were bundled up like it was the dead of winter. While a few of their heads were topped by the stereotypical berets, the ubiquitous French scarfs were everywhere. It made me wonder what they'd be wearing when it got really cold next week.

My first stop after lunch at a Crêperie, was the Cluny Museum (aka the Musée National du Moyen Age), home of the famed Unicorn Tapestries. The 6 tapestries which were likely created in the late 1500s are amazingly well preserved, considering they were not discovered and put on display at the Cluny until some time during the late 1800s. (They are much better preserved than the Unicorn Tapestries found at the Cloisters Museum in New York City). The tapestries are rich in symbolism. The first five tapestries represent the five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. The 6th in the series has been the subject of debate, and is know as "A Mon Sevl, Desir" (my only desire) and thought to be an apology of sorts for free will and self control.

The Lion in the tapestries is said to be representative of the town of Lyon where a family know as Le Liste lived who may have commissioned the tapestries. The Unicorn is said refer to the family name which in old French was "viste" (meaning fast) and the Unicorn was a representation of speed. While the lion and unicorn are meant to be "standard bearers", much has also been written about the relationship between the Lady and the Unicorn. Legend holds that only a virgin could tame a unicorn. And some say that the unicorn has a dual purpose--to serve as an apology for beauty and desire as well as a distancing device in the pleasure of the senses (of which the 6 tapestries depict).

While the Cluny is know most for it's Unicorn tapestries, it also holds one of the most prominent collections of stained glass in France.

Once I had my fill of medieval history, I set off for the Pantheon in the heart of the Latin Quarter. The Pantheon contains the last resting place of Voltaire, Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Marie and Pierre Curie.

It also contains a temporary exhibit of one of the oddest modern art installations I've seen in a while. The main chamber looks like it's been covered in drooping white scrotums. (I can't help but wonder if this display means there are a number of Frenchmen missing their balls.) Apparently, it's supposed to be some sort of celebration of Autumn. I'm sure one of the signs in French explained it, but my comprehension of French just wasn't up to the task. I think in any language it was just weird. (According to Wikipedia, it was created by Brazilian Ernesto Neto and is called Leviathan Thot. Apparently it's supposed to be some sort of monster and is on display until October 31st. If only I'd know I'd have waited a few days to visit).

I wrapped up my afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens. Despite it being nearly November, the flowers are still in bloom and the trees are just starting to turn colors. This fall afternoon, the Garden was packed with families. Click on the video view for a panoramic view.



The days in Paris are ending earlier now; as in the US, daylight savings time ended last night. However, the sunsets are just as beautiful as ever.


One random note, I've discovered that Kir Royal's (a mixture of champagne and the fruit flavored liquor-peach, raspberry, etc-of your choice) do not improve my French. However, it does have the effect of making me not care that my French is just this side of atrocious. =)

Chartres

The Notre Dame Cathedral in Chartres holds a unique place among Gothic Cathedrals--it only took 66 years to build compared the hundreds of years that it took to build similar cathedrals like Notre Dame in Paris. As a result, historians say it is the purest example of Gothic architecture in Europe. It has been repeated struck by lightening and portions rebuilt rapidly by those living in the surrounding town.

Chartres Cathedral is filled with exquisite stained glass windows. These stained glass windows survived bombings which destroyed much of the surrounding town in both World War I and World War II due to the fact that ALL of the stained glass windows were removed prior to the start of the war.

Many of the windows are instantly recognizable by a particular color of blue, know as Chartres blue. The Rose windows adorn the Cathedral on walls on the West, South and North to let in light at different times of the day. Primarily colored in reds and blue, each of the petal-shaped panes tell a different part of the Christian story. Many of the windows are so detailed that they are almost overwhelming. It's impossible to take it all in in one viewing.

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My amusing story for the day--I was sitting in a cafe around the corner from my tour meet up location on the Rue de Rivoli. While I was eating an American couple came in and set down next to me (if their accents hadn't been a dead give away, the white tennis shoes would have done the trick). While they were sitting there, I spoke a few very simple sentences in French to the waiter and then went back to reading my book, thinking none of it. After a bit, the woman got up to go the bathroom and I began speaking with her husband. As she came back to the table, there was a lull in our conversation and her first question after sitting down was "Are you English?" I must have looked a little startled because her husband quickly explained to her that I was from Pennsylvania (they were from Florida). I suddenly realized the woman hadn't heard me speak a word of English, but had noticed that I was reading a book in English. Apparently, in her mind only someone who was not American would be speaking French. I guess my French pronunciation is better than I thought, because her next question was to ask me if I lived here.

I find this all terribly amusing because I speak just enough French to really get me in trouble. I read it okay, but speaking it is a whole different animal. I've been here just over two days and have been able to dredge up just enough French to keep the waiters from being rude to me, but yet my own countrywoman thinks I don't look or sound like an American. I've always figured that as soon as I opened my mouth (regardless of language) that it was a dead give away that I'm an American. I guess I owe my high school French teacher a big thank you for the pronunciation lessons that have stuck with me for nearly 20 years (has it really been that long?)

After being here for two days alone and hearing almost nothing but French, just hearing American English for a few hours is almost jarring. I've come to realize that Americans really are rather loud even if we don't realize it. Often I find myself straining to understand the softly spoken French. The beautiful cadences of the language wash over me at times before I realize what exactly I'm hearing. Like live TV, I'm operating on a 10-second delay (and occasionally a little longer). But, day-by-day, I am understanding more. And maybe, if I'm lucky, by the time my cooking class rolls around next weekend, I'll be able to understand my instructor well enough, not to cause a major international incident by burning the cooking school down.

Bonjour Paris!

When I was 13, I began taking French and I plastered a large picture of the Eiffel Tower on my bedroom wall. For me it was a magical sight. Finally, I've arrived in Paris and I'm happy to say that it's just as magical at 35 as I thought it would be at 13. I've spent the last two days walking through Paris, soaking up the culture and tuning my ear to a language I haven't spoken in many years. Fortunately, it's coming back quickly and none of the French waiters have been rude as I've haltingly placed my order in French. Despite their reputation, they've been very patient with me and I've found my attempts usually get a smile. In fact one rather cute waiter at the cafe around the corner from my hotel, seem to get quite the kick out of teaching me how to ask for my bill in French (L'additon, s'il vous plait) at lunch yesterday. I went back in for dinner this evening and to my surprise, he remembered me.

I spent yesterday afternoon wandering through île de la Cité and île St. Louis as I waited to check into my hotel. Paris has been experiencing an unusually warm fall and it was almost hot yesterday as the clouds cleared away, bathing the two little islands in the middle of the Seine with a bright sunshine. The leaves are just starting to turn here, so it looks like I'll get to experience second fall foliage here over the next two weeks.

I wandered around the outside of Notre Dame; eventually, I'll go back early in the morning one day for the tour and climb to the top of one of the towers. But, for now, I've contented myself with exploring the gargoyles that keep watch.

Jet lag finally caught up with me around 1 am and I ended up sleeping until nearly noon when the hotel desk woke me up and told me it was time to change from my double room to the single room for the rest of my stay. Paris hotel rooms are notoriously small, so I was wondering just how small my single room was going to be. Would I be living in a closet for two weeks? Interestingly enough, the only difference between my single room and double room is the lack of balcony in the single room. My single room still has the double bed and is exactly the same size; it's just one floor down. As much as I enjoyed checking my e-mail out on the little tiny balcony yesterday (about 3 feet wide), it's not worth paying an extra 30 euros to keep it.

After I switched rooms and finally unpacked, I resumed my wanderings. I took a long walk down the Seine along the edge of the St. Germain de Pres quarter towards the Louvre. On Friday nights, the Louvre stays open late until about 9:45 pm. The bulk of the tourists clear out and the French venture in. I'm not sure I heard English but once during the 2 hours I was there this evening. I checked out the Islamic and Egyptian art and finally made my way up towards the Mona Lisa when my feet started to feel like they were about to fall off from all the walking. While the gallery was far from empty, I was pretty much able to walk right up to it (I hear it's another story during the daytime). Much like my experience with Michelangelo’s David, pictures just don't do it justice. Her slight smile is captivating and I can understand why many have sought her mysteries over the centuries.

By the time I found my way out of the maze of galleries, night had fallen. The Louvre is spectacular at night and I'm not sure my pictures do it justice.

And before I wrap things up tonight, a few more scenes from Paris at night--the first is the Concierge, where Marie-Antoinette waited to beheaded and the second Le Pont Neuf with the Eiffel Tower in the background.