One of those happy coincidences

A few days again a local friend sent me an e-mail enquiring as to my current bath and shower renovations and saying “What is your blood sugar level like these days?   All that stress can't be doing it any good, so I wonder whether an unopened 250g box of FEMINA chocs would be of any use to you (can't remember whether you eat chocs or not) and\or a cute little tin of salted butter caramels.”

I replied: on the chocolates – thanks, but no thanks, I’m fussy and currently only eating dark chocolate, but that the salty butter caramels would be more than welcome.

She duly deposited them in my “milk” box (European letter boxes have two parts: one for the letters and another for packages, they call them the milk box as they resemble the ones used back in the day for the milkman to deposit fresh milk). I recuperated them and of course had to try – delicious, I mean really good.

It was a good 24 hours later however that I took a closer look at the “cute” tin, only to realize that it came from one of the best Parisian tea rooms: Angelina.

That brought back a flood of good memories of the meal taken there whilst visiting Paris with friends this past summer. Remember Miss Betty? We had lunch at Angelina’s after our visit to the Louvre.

One of those very happy coincidences: going to celebrate by having another salty butter caramel!

Angelina'a rue Rivoli, Paris, France

July 4th round-up for Miss Betty

Oh no – the last full day in Paris for our little band of tourists.

Our breakfast room

Organizer, J. (no not me for a change!) had arranged for a half-day English-speaking private tour guide who picked us up promptly at 9 a.m.  Starting to have to set the alarms.

Amir was our fountain of wisdom and source of entertainment for three and a half wonderful hours. I can highly recommend hiring a private guide as one can see what one has missed, or spend more time on what one personally wants to see! As we were a fairly homogenous group – all interested in the same things, we really benefited from the special treatment.  Montmartre and seeing where both Victor Hugo had lived as well as the famous Moulin Rouge, never mind the oldest true cabaret in Paris and the last vineyard as well, on top of Picasso’s work atelier then Sacré Coeur were highlights.

Moulin Rouge

Where Van Gogh lived with his brother in Montmartre

One of two remaining "moulins" where there was dancing: Utrillo, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso and others met here

Picasso's atelier

Sacré Coeur

A wonderful mime

The flying buttresses of Notre Dame

The explanations about the “Pont Neuf” (new bridge – the first built in stone as opposed to wood, which rotted and had to be replaced often), the narrow streets in another neighborhood; the Latin quarter (thus named as the Romans had come through in the first century BC); the Opera house – at the end of the street leading in between the Louvre and the Opera house where the Emporer had his own private entrance, simply too many things to take in, but we did try.  J had again organized lunch: at Monsieur Bleu we all had the Asparagus Linguine, which was delicious in itself. We had intended on not having any dessert thinking that nothing could beat Angelina’s: we were wrong as the following photos bear witness.

Before

Millefeuille

Upside down lemon tart

Salty caramel ice cream

Cheesecake

The aftermath

The afternoon passed in a swirl as we dashed back to Galeries Lafayette for another suitcase (I won’t tell who, but there were too many souvenirs to pack and not enough spare room); returned for a rest then packing. Had intended just grabbing a couple of salads in the tea room across the street, but, due to the Soccer match in between France and Germany, it shut early. J and I debated getting yogurts next door in the mini-market, but finally opted to go back to where we had had dinner the first night to avoid the hassle - remember those desserts? And we had thought them exceptional - guess it is a good thing that we didn't have more time or we might even have discovered others (better I am sure not after Angelina's and Monsieur Bleu)

As the Eiffel tower lit that evening, all were trying to get to sleep for an early morning departure: Miss Betty’s Paris adventure had come to an end… for this time at least.

She is now cruising and having a well-earned respite from the rush of seeing it all.

The Eiffel Tower as seen from our hotel's entry

 

Miss Betty at the Louvre and more decadent desserts…

Thursday July 3 and it was back to a program – thankfully one with only one major goal – visit the Louvre.

Our hotel, The Hôtel Elysées Union, (www.elysees-union.com) so kindly organized and recommended by Teresa of AAA (in Redlands? To be confirmed by J) has been above the average in terms of the friendliness of the staff and the provision of whatever we needed: a wheelchair borrowed by the family to go to Versailles and again this morning for the Louvre.

Part of one wing of the Louvre

From inside the entry pyramid - conceived by Pei

With four of us, two using canes, taxis were by far the best way of getting around – so after another copious breakfast off we went.  What a blessing to have the “handicapped” with us, as D & I became accompanying persons and the four of us entered free. But that was the minor blessing: the real one was being able to actually move and clear a path on the lower floors. Whilst fresh we decided to show Miss Betty the Mona Lisa as it had been many years since last she (Miss Betty) had seen her - the Mona Lisa (I mean maybe once they were on a personal basis, back before she got put under glass and cordoned off): what a trial – and not to be offensive or politically incorrect – the Asians pushed, shoved and tripped over the wheelchair without thought or pause in their “need” to see this famous painting. Luckily for us, a guardian saw what was happening and before we could say Jack Robinson, dashed over,

through the front rows and beckoned us beyond the cord barrier directly in front of the painting: I had goose bumps and not wishing to make a nuisance of myself, didn’t even take a picture – it was enough to have had the privilege of being so close. Bless the French guardians at the Louvre!

With then split paths (I and Miss Betty from her two daughters J and D), and I with the lovely excuse of Miss Betty, was allowed to wander in search of more quiet corners. After some trial and error – and yet another lovely guardian – we managed to find the elevator to the top floor and the lesser frequented, but just as mind boggling paintings.  We spent considerable time in one particular room with Ruben’s 24 paintings, commandeered by Marie de Medici in honour of her life: paintings which were commissioned to decorate the walls of one of her halls in the palace in which she lived – facing that of her husband Henri IV. They married first by proxy; she supplied the funds, he led the life, but she also more importantly supplied him with an heir – Louis XIII. Born in Florence, Italy, she reigned in France until her son was able to take over the throne; intrigues and exile followed; then a reconciliation; in the end she traveled to Cologne, Germany, staying in the house of Pierre-Paul Rubens where she passed away.

Still in love with reflections, this a window overlooking a hall of sculptures

In this part of the Louvre I was finally able to allow (graciously you understand to make up for the rather abrupt: “you will stay in the wheelchair” of the lower floor) Miss Betty to walk around using her cane or the back of the wheelchair, a by far more comfortable solution.  It was also there, sitting on the benches provided for viewing down the center of the room, that we saw her daughters. I could have said that the “devil made me do it” but I prefer the “Miss Betty made me do it” version: borrowing her cane, I went and poked them both from the rear (on their you-know-what’s). Such fun. We decided that since all parties had seen what they most wanted to see, that we would leave the crowded halls and ferocious crowds to their own and head for a highly-recommended spot for a bite of lunch: Angelina’s

Angelina's

Upper gallery at Angelina's

Miss Betty and daughter D

To bless, or to curse, C – that is the question: she’s the one who had us heading there. Lunch was a wonder of tastes ranging from a truffle omelet to an asparagus risotto via two different types of quiches.  In fact it was so filling that we had to take away our desserts for later.  A bit of a search for the taxi stand and it was crash at the hotel.
 

Asparagus risotto

Then needing (believe it or not!) sustenance yet again around 19:30 we tried another restaurant on the main boulevard just around the corner. An air-conditioned room, a live singer and a far corner were welcome after the heat of the day, but we stayed reasonable in our choices knowing that dessert was awaiting us in the garden in front of our room.

Restaurant Kleber on Avenue Kleber

And what a dessert it was: we had picked four different ones and after purchasing paper plates and begging 4 forks and a knife from the mini-mart next door we were able to share the delights.

Paris New-York, a pecan confection

Raspberry tart

Peach Melba with vanilla custard

St. Honoré

 C – you are currently being blessed!

Flower store along our route

Miss Betty does it again…

Has a birthday!

July 2 was a landmark in the life of Miss Betty: Paris with two of her children, celebrating her 91^st birthday. It was also a “down day” in the program of planned events and city sightseeing, not that anyone was down, simply we had more flexibility and although many places and stops to see and acomplish, no particular order nor time frame in which they had to be made.

From the beginning – breakfast at the hotel, but we found a wee sweet to stand in for a birthday cake (the bakery where I had seen chocolate cupcakes the day before hadn’t made them that day so we had to settle for a “cake financier”, which is perhaps fitting as literally translated it means financial cake: does this mean that a windfall is in store for her?

Skipping the 90, just put the 1- cake for breakfast is allowed!

Miss Betty and her admirers - in the hotel lobby before leaving for the day.

In any case the first stop at the Maison du Chocolat saw a windfall of something: chocolate!

Maison du Chocolat and an accommodating salesperson

 

On to Galeries Lafayette and a woman’s favourite pastime: shopping.  A few perfume bottles later and we headed for Notre Dame and the free English guided tour. As said tour turned out to have as guide a very soft-spoken, heavily accented French women whom, if one was not directly in front of her, was basically not understandable. We decided that lunch was more important.

Galeries Lafayettes

Quasimodo’s with fresh lemonade (Miss Betty kept saying that it was a bit tart so 5 sugars later…), and lemon sugar crepes = happy tourists with enough energy to buy a few trinkets as souvenirs before heading back to the hotel for a slight pause.

The big event of the day: a dinner-cruise on the Seine river to celebrate Miss Betty’s 91^st.

Delicious starters (asparagus soup, Caesar salad, a terrine and several other choices), followed by a selection again of mains as well as of desserts - all accompanied by a bottle of white and a bottle of red wine (I do wonder what happens to the leftovers as we only drank enough to toast her health and I a normal glass, leaving more than enough for yet another meal).

Dessert and a surprise for Miss Betty - her own personalized birthday sherbet slice - again we stuck to the one candles in order to not melt the sherbert faster than it was already melting in the heat of celebration.

Suprised!

 

The perfect end to a perfect day.

Paris adventures

July 1 – Another day of discovery and wandering

An eclectic mix accompanied by many nationalities: the two girls in the breakfast room

came, one from Ghana, the other from Cambodia. We were very late to breakfast, understandable as my friends were 9 hours behind, but it meant that I wasn’t totally hungry for lunch with A at noon. However, it had been very entertaining getting there with the one metro line down for repairs. Lunch was in a local restaurant where the textures and food were scrumptious – packaged with a small glass of wine and followed by coffee – the French way of living suits me!

Then we wandered as A showed me some of the picturesque neighbourhoods – places so quiet and sheltered that you wouldn’t believe that you were in one of the major cities of the world. Some were places of street art – and they rivalled in imagination and creativity with any other spots worldwide.

Then we headed for my favourite museum in Paris: the Quai d’Orsay. Lines are now done in the American Disneyworld fashion: back and forth surrounded by black portable ribbons – to get in took a half hour. Once inside we again queued for the Van Gogh exhibition, but as that was the main reason for this particular trip, we chatted happily as we waited. As we came out, we would still have had time to do other parts of the museum, but we were both still totally under the influence of what we had seen and couldn’t add any more without negating what we had just experienced.

Detail from across the street from the d'Orsay Museum

It was with reverence that we exited into a lovely, breezy, sunny late afternoon.

Coffee was the next order of the day and we managed to find a typical Parisian sidewalk café: we did not manage to have any pastries with the coffee.

However, a major decision to find the ice-cream parlour that she had been introduced to by her cousin just a few days before, was taken and off we went into the bowls of the earth and the metro system: meanwhile peak time, it was still bearable. Up into the St. Germain neighbourhood and success – an Italian, homemade, chemical free gelato place where the raspberry tasted like freshly picked and pureed raspberries flash frozen, where the pistachio actually tasted more of the nuts than the usual flavouring and where the dark chocolate was unctuous enough to compete with the best of Swiss chocolates (and those who know me know that I don’t say things like that lightly!). None of the usual too-sweet chemical flavours, no icicles saying that it wasn’t fresh. And, an added bonus, two bins for separating waste: one for the cups and napkins, one for the plastic spoons and cones.

A hay truck in the middle of Paris!

Someone had a great sense of humor

Separation was difficult, but A. accompanied me to the last by making sure that I got on the right bus in the right direction, thus avoiding the problem of the currently non-existent metro.  Staying above ground meant a lovely drive along landmarks and the recognition of the stop closer to my hotel than the one for which I had originally aimed.

Awaiting me in the garden were my American friends, they themselves home from a lovely day at Versailles.

Miss Betty, onion soup and decadent desserts in Paris

June 30 

Finished June the way I like to live: a whole six-month period without any twisted ankles or other medical challenges. However, it was also a wonderful day as I traveled to Paris to join friends: one of my sister’s childhood friends (who promptly became mine during the years of to-ing and fro-ing for my mother), one of her sisters and their 91-year-old mom (day after tomorrow) who promptly said: “call me Betty”. I couldn’t quite be that disrespectful, but then it popped into my head: she’s Miss Betty!

I ate too much for lunch: who knew that in first class one got lunch on the TGV just like in a plane? I had been starving and so had gotten a sandwich at the train station and had wolfed it down promptly at noon. An hour later lunch was served: that’s ok, just like whilst travelling by air, I never turn down sustenance, as one never knows when the next meal might not be!

Negotiated the metro from the train station to the hotel and felt quite competent (I don’t remember the last time I used a metro – felt quite grateful to be able to read and speak the language of the city as otherwise I might have gone in the opposite direction of where I needed and wanted to be).

Our lovely and very well situated hotel

They had just arrived so J and I proceeded to go out for coffee (my 16h00 rule holds no matter where I am or whom I am with!) and found a lovely tearoom – with goodies – just 100 meters from the hotel.

Also noted that there were 5 restaurants within a small perimeter for dinner later.

After the sister and Miss Betty had rested a bit we proceeded back out for dinner, finally picking the restaurant from where we could see the Arc de Triomphe (the terrace at the restaurant looking towards the Eiffel tower wasn’t quite far enough out so there would have been no view, talk about being picky when one can!).

Due to jet lag on their part and over-eating on mine, we all chose small mains as the dessert menu had an above-average selection. In the end our desserts were larger than the meal, which had preceded it: we all chose a different one and happily dipped spoons into each others sampling the delights of crème brûlée (custard with a carmel top, which is flamed to make it hard; île flottant (floating islands)- with a thought for my housemate as this is her favourite dessert; profiteroles and a chocolate moelleux (chocolate cupcake with a runny middle set in custard).

moelleux au chocolat

crème brûlé

profiteroles

île flottant

Needing a wee bit of exercise to let that all settle, we then proceeded to walk to the Arch of Triumph; one which truly was as just as we got there we noticed all the police cars and vans, the anti-riot squads, etc. No need to wonder why: the French had just won their soccer match and qualified for the quarterfinals!

Heading back towards the hotel, J and Miss Betty stopped whilst the sister and I continued in the other direction towards the Eiffel tower.

Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

My own personal luck held and within short we were on the bridge over the Seine facing it in the early evening sun.

Days don’t come much better, nor do desserts: Welcome to Paris Miss Betty.

Miss Betty and her onion soup!