Day 3
Monday, Frankfurt to Paris
One of the parts of the trip that I was most looking forward to was the Inter City Express (ICE) train trip to Paris. Due to space constraints, our large bags were to be transported by truck while we sped across the [kilometers, miles] to Gare de l’Est. Our bags were loaded onto a large truck by 7:30; we boarded busses to go to the Frankfurt train station for our 9:10 departure. The train was full, the seats were comfortable, and the countryside flew past our windows. It was Monday, Armistice Day, a national holiday to commemorate those who died or were injured in World War I and other wars. It is generally a solemn occasion.
The train ride was a blast. No, really, a b*l*a*s*t! At times we were traveling at 200 miles per hour! In fact, someone told us that once we crossed from Germany into France, we would be going faster (up to 200 mph) as the tracks in France are better than the tracks in Germany. Hmm. It was a comfortable ride, and great fun to watch the countryside streaming past. When we arrived at the Paris East station, busses were waiting to take us to Le Meridien Etoile hotel.
When we arrived, we were told that the truck had run into a problem and bags would be late arriving. Our concern was that some people had packed their performance attire in their large bags rather than their carry-ons. We were specifically told, before leaving the States, to make sure our garments, music, and performance shoes were in our carry-ons. You’ve all heard of the airlines losing luggage, right? But a truck? No big deal; our bags would be sure to arrive before warm-up and rehearsal time. But it was a holiday. And for some reason, certain roads are closed to large trucks on holidays. The company that was transporting our bags had to call for two smaller trucks, offload about 180 bags from the large truck and reload them onto the two smaller trucks.
We arrived at the hotel around 2:00 and had not eaten, so several of us went around the corner from the hotel to Le Congres Restaurant and had a light lunch (for me – lobster bisque and warm goat cheese salad – yum!) before going back to the hotel and checking on the status of our bags.
The bags had still not arrived, but Ginger and I (along with the majority of our colleagues) had packed our performance gear in our carry-ons. When Ginger and I checked into our room to change for the evening’s performance, we found two twin beds, attached at the headboard. This was better than one “double” bed. We were progressing.
Soon it was time to leave for warm-up, rehearsal and performance, and the truck had not arrived. Our chorus manager took a census of the singers who were in substandard attire. She had learned the truck would arrive between our warm-up and the rehearsal. The bags for the people missing garments would be pulled from the truck and placed in the Salle Pleyel artists’ entry hall. (Keep in mind that the bags had not been placed into either the first truck or the second trucks in any particular order!) While those of us appropriately attired would stay in our seats, the other singers would race down four flights of old, curving staircases, throw open their bags, dig out their clothes, race back upstairs, stash their clothes, and get back on stage for rehearsal. In the blink of an eye. There was a lot of anxiety in that hall!
Some women grabbed their dresses and didn’t even bother with their shoes, wearing their black traveling shoes under their gowns. One woman went onstage barefoot rather than try to dig for her shoes. Her gown was long–no one would see her feet.
And “curtain” time arrived. The performance of the Beethoven was, according to those in the audience who had heard the other performances, the best yet. The audience applauded exuberantly through–if I recall correctly–five bows. Finally they stopped and the orchestra left the stage. When we stood to follow the orchestra off the stage, the people still sitting in the hall (not having gone out for intermission) began to clap and cheer. We had never experienced this before. What an absolute treat!
We grabbed our belongings and boarded the busses again to go back to the hotel. There was a story told of a French woman jumping onto one of the busses to wax rhapsodic about the performance–in French. When she realized she was speaking French, she stopped and apologized, explaining “When I get excited I forget I’m speaking French.”
This concert was a truly magical experience.
Back at the hotel, bags deftly stowed in our rooms, Ginger and I donned civilian clothes and walked up to the corner for something to eat and a little wi-fi time. (Of course, in a France it’s pronounced wee-fee.) I had eaten at Chez Clément in May and had enjoyed it; I was happy to experience their fine food again. Dinner for me was another warm goat cheese salad, followed by floating islands for dessert. (Should have had the profiteroles. I never got those on the entire trip, and I absolutely love them!)
Back to the room to collapse after a long day and prepare for our day of leisure.
Day 4
Tuesday, All Around Paris
When the Jazzman and I were in Paris in May, I didn’t get to visit any museums. I determined at that time that on my November trip, I would go see the Orangerie, a museum featuring French impressionism that I had first visited in 1971 while studying with Nadia Boulanger in Fontainebleau.
I knew some museums, most noticeably the Louvre, were closed on Tuesdays, but didn’t realize the distinction. State-run museums are closed on Tuesdays. The Orangerie is owned by the state. Sad face!
Once I learned this fact on Monday afternoon, I started trying to figure out what I wanted to do. Breakfast was not included in our hotel, so I decided I would go along with Ginger, Tim and Lisa and walk down Avenue de la Grande Armée as far as the Arc de Triomphe, finding breakfast along the way. Alas, the weather forecast for the day predicted rain and cold temperatures. Raincoats and umbrellas were grabbed before we left the hotel.
We found a little shop where we got croissants and coffee/tea and then continued on down to the Arc de Triomphe. I had never been on Place Charles de Gaulle (formerly Place de l’Étoile) where the arch stands and knew there was an underground way to get there, but didn’t know where it was. It took us five to ten minutes to find the tunnel. Once up in the middle of the Place, we were treated with the opportunity to see the flowers that had been laid by the eternal flame and over the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We got to see the enormous flag that had been suspended from the arch for Armistice Day.
After taking numerous pictures, we parted company. My friends headed down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to visit the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. My objective was Boulevard Haussmann and Montmarte.
I had an offline searchable map on my iPad so I could find exactly where I was, but it seemed—from the very first corner—that everytime I thought I knew where I was and turned a corner, I was on a different street than expected. I’m very good with maps, but I wasn’t very good with street signs attached high up on building corners. I never did get to Boulevard Haussmann and the stores I wished to visit. But, boy, did I have a great day.
I took my time, as the rainy weather was wreaking havoc on my arthritic knee. As I look back now, trying to find exactly what route I walked, I see that I walked over six miles. At the end of my time out in the cold and rain, I walked to Place de Clichy metro station and rode the train back to Porte Maillot metro station, around the corner from the hotel.
So where did those six miles take me? I visited Place Lili-Boulanger, located at the intersection of Rue Ballu and Rue de Vintimille in the 9th Arrondissement. On the side of an apartment building is a sign that commemorates the home of sisters and influential musicians Lili and Nadia Boulanger. From there, I walked into Square Berlioz, by a shop selling antique train sets, and then on—via circuitous is-this-the-right-road route—to the Cimetière de Montmartre to visit Mlle. Boulanger’s grave.
After my pilgrimage to the grave, I made another pilgrimage in search of fabric and other sewing goodies. My teacher and friend, Marcy Tilton, who takes twice yearly trips to Paris with fellow sewing and fashion fans, had given me a list of favorite fabric shops. I focused just on shops in Montmarte, and visited three stores. “Au Gentleman des Tissues: Sacres Coupons” carries stacks of “coupons” or remnants, about 3 metres in length. In one side of the store I found leather and suede skins at prices better than I had ever seen before. I picked a piece of coral suede to use in making a bag. Then I walked further down Rue d’Orsel and found a shop named Décor 2000 at 27 Rue D’Orsel where I found a darling piece of white linen with a black musical print and French writing. It’s waiting for spring to become a lightweight jacket. Then I found the pièce de résistance, Dam Boutons. Oh. My Goodness! If you like buttons or need a special button for a specific garment or need cool closures or great inexpensive charms, you must visit this shop the next time you’re in the area. See the two Dam Boutons pictures in the stream below—this precious little shop is a must-see destination. I bought a few little goodies, then decided it was time to head “home.”
After taking the Metro back to the stop near the hotel, I stopped in Chez Clement for a cup of hot tea, an afternoon crème brûlée, and some wi-fi time, then back to the hotel to read and knit and nap before heading out for an early dinner at
Il Naturele. And then to pack for the morning’s early departure for Luxembourg.
Concert Review
