2012 - THE INNKEEPERS CONTINUE ON HOLIDAY - Part II

Adieu, Paris

DAY SEVEN - Sunday, April 29, 2012 - Paris to Copenhagen

As we returned to Charles de Gaulle airport for our flight to Copenhagen, I reflected on some observations I had made about Paris.  The main one was that we had failed to find even one rude person, busting all stereotypes to pieces.  Our hotel was over-the-top charming and quirky, but very light on amenities compared to what we offer at our Bed and Breakfast.  Both women and men in Paris wear a lot of scarves.  When you ask for water, you have a choice of plain or "with gas" (carbonated).  Bicycles and umbrellas make just dandy pictures in the rain.  And, after six days of walking around in cold, damp weather, it was quite apparent that Ron's sniffles were turning into full-fledged hacking, and I was near the point of exhaustion.  Copenhagen, here we come!

Tivoli Gardens

We were picked up at the airport by our friends Yvonne and Ole, who we'd met at a friend's party in Virginia a few years ago, and who had stayed with us previously while they indulged their passion for Civil War history.  Knowing we only had a couple of days allotted for Denmark, they had a flash tour prepared for us of the city, including a visit to The Little Mermaid in the harbor and a drive by Tivoli amusement park, a childhood dream come true for me.  Ron, who is half Danish and the other half daredevil, paid tribute to the Little Mermaid by performing some sort of shoe immersion ceremony in the Copenhagen Harbor, much to the entertainment of a group of visiting Russian girls.  

Ron vs. Mermaid

The Little Mermaid and the Seasick Mermaid

We all enjoyed coffee and delicious pastries in a sunny outdoor square as we watched a Segway Tour, which Ron identified as a "Danish biker gang", pass by.  All of the restaurants and cafes have outdoor seating, which can get chilly that far North, but they sensibly provide warm, colorful blankets for each chair.  

"Danish Biker Gang"

I asked - Huks Fluks doesn't mean anything in Danish.

After checking out a local art exhibit in a church nearby and stopping for dinner, it was off to Yvonne and Ole's beautiful home in Jyllinge, a small town surrounded by fields of yellow mustard seed plants, about 30 minutes west of Copenhagen on a fjord.  We also got to meet Nuser (Danish for Snoopy), the cat, who was a welcome sight for weary travelers going through feline withdrawal.  By the time we reached Jyllinge, we both crashed and burned, sleeping until 11 the following morning.

Our wonderful hosts, Yvonne and Ole

Oh, so tired, but still excited.

DAY EIGHT - Monday, April 30, 2012
Yvonne prepared a seriously major feast for brunch, which we enjoyed in her gorgeous garden under a finally clear, blue Danish sky.  

The Greenhouse

Nuser

They apologized profusely for having to leave us to attend their three-year old nephew's birthday party, where they would also pick up Poncho, the dog, to keep for the summer while her brother's family was in Egypt. But, it  was fine, as all we really wanted to do was climb back in bed, and we slept again until 4:30.  Only then did we venture out in Ole's Volvo to find a place to eat at the little Jyllinge strip mall and to try our hand using Danish kroners, their country's currency.  We ended up with lamb and falafel sandwiches made in folded over pizza dough with salad inside.  Again, delicious choices.  We found that not speaking Danish did not present problems, as most Danes learn English from elementary school age.  Also, the Victor Borge gene seems to be widespread, as we encountered some delightful senses of humor.  When we had difficulty understanding one of the menu choices, a loud and helpful "MOO" came from the table behind us.  By the time our hosts returned with the very well-behaved Poncho, we were all ready for sleep again.

Mustard Seed Fields at sunset

Fijord Center at sunset

By now, Ron was in full-fledged bronchitis and with Ole's help got some Danish cough syrup and lozenges.  It didn't keep him from enjoying another of their simply incredible brunches in the garden before setting out on another crash tour on the way back to the airport.  We visited the oldest church in Jyllinge, built in 1100, the scenic fjord center in the village and then the Roskilde Cathedral in the next town where Danish royalty has been buried for 800 years.  Again, if churches don't sound terribly exciting, I can attest that surrounded by the quaint and picturesque countryside, it was all eye-candy of the highest degree.  

Jyllinge Church

Ole, who works for the railroads also took us by the rail yards to see some old steam engines and the roundabout where the trains turn around and we stopped by the Viking Museum.  We screamed into the airport with enough time for our flight to Amsterdam, the last leg on our adventure and promises that they would visit Cape Cod in the summer of 2013.  I find it amazing that after their already scheduled trip to the U.S. this summer, there will only be two U.S. states left for Ole to visit, which just happen to be in New England.

Viking Museum

Town of Roskilde

Goodbye Denmark, for now

Thanks to Ron's prior trips to Amsterdam, he knew to book a hotel right in Dam Square, the center of the city where the queen's palace is.  After a short and smooth flight, we found our way to the Hotel Krasnapolsky by train and found the square bustling with a carnival and the streets uncharacteristically full of trash.  The explanation revealed itself in that it was the queen's birthday, which always prompts a giant annual bash and our visit happily coincided.  We hurried to ditch our luggage in our new home away from home so we could begin part three of our adventure.

2012 - THE INNKEEPERS GO ON HOLIDAY - Part I

DAY ONE AND TWO - Cape Cod to PARIS
Monday, April 23, 2012 - Tuesday, April 24, 2012
When the innkeepers go on holiday, it's natural to compare what we offer our guests to our own experiences as the travelers.  Our journey began with a relatively short drive to Hyannis to park and catch the Plymouth & Brockton bus to Logan Airport in Boston.  By the time one braves the Boston metro traffic and airport parking fees for 12 days, it's a much better option to just buy a ticket and leave the driving to them.

Plymouth and Brockton to Logan

At this point, I should explain that a month prior to our trip, I managed to incapacitate myself by first pulling a groin muscle and then developing hip bursitis as I rehabbed faithfully at the gym every day.  I had resigned myself to Paris on crutches, but a last minute cortisone shot allowed me to trade them for a very fancy deer antler cane, just in case.  As unglamorous as this may sound, it allowed us to discover that I should never travel without one again, regardless of my recovered condition.  To our amazement, we were plucked out of long lines and given priority treatment at the airports.  It also bought me enough of a measure of sympathy to avoid the x-rays and pat downs (except for the return trip to the U.S. where they are more thorough), although Ron was not that lucky.  Any guilt I might have felt about our preferred treatment was quickly assuaged by memories of my rehab bravado gone wrong and ending up on crutches again, but I eagerly ditched the cane at the hotel and relied on Ron's arm as we strolled Europe.

Andrea + Ron + one of the Ponts

Our flight on Air France was the largest plane I've ever been on.  The parade of flight attendants alone would have completely filled a Cape Air commuter plane.  Our luck continued as we found that enough seats were empty to claim spots to lie down for the night, albeit in some very creative positions, and we managed to get about 3 hours sleep before a smooth landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport (about 2 a.m. our time, but 8 a.m. in Paris).  Warning:  if you are expecting a taste of good French cuisine in air, you will be sorely disappointed, but despite being a "plane-a-phobe", especially over water, it was overall a very stress-free flight experience. 

One of many decorative Metro stations

We stumbled half-asleep through the Paris Metro and even more with our first attempts at French, but managed to find the way to our hotel passing right by, was that Notre Dame?  But, the first order of business was the rest of the night's sleep, even though it was technically morning.  We had our choice of three rooms and decided on the one five flights up (no elevator) named for Moliere, but it had the bathroom en suite, so well worth the walk.  It also helped to burn off some of those extra French calories.  

Count them - FIVE

The Moliere Room (that's not Moliere)

In addition to the great location, we chose the hotel because each room was whimsically painted with a different theme and could easily be right out of Alice in Wonderland.  We felt right at home!   A lovely garden with statuary, blooming wisteria and tulips was available for savoring reflective moments, but the weather never favored its use.  We arose about 4:30 p.m. Paris-time, ready to do some exploring in our San Michel neighborhood in the Latin Quarter, which by the way, I had learned was not Hispanic as I'd assumed, but named for the Latin language that was spoken there originally by scholars.

Good morning view

Hotel de Nesle Garden

Our first stop was a store called 'Orange' where Ron purchased a SIM card for his new iPhone that had been acquired with the promise of wonderful translation and location apps.  Unfortunately, the card didn't do the trick, but it was our first initiation into some good-natured bantering with the young techie about our limited French.  He became much more helpful when he noticed Ron's tattoo and took the opportunity to proudly show off his own.

We then walked over to Notre Dame for a closer look and along with hundreds of others milling around the front, admired the incredible complexity and artistry of the architecture.  This famous cathedral is situated on the island, Ile de Cite, which is connected to the left bank by the smallest bridge, called Petit Pont.

Notre Dame Cathedral

Ile de Citi, as this island neighborhood is called, is considered the epicenter of Paris and is generally thought to be the earliest settlement in the city (50 A.D. by the Romans).  Shaped by the river Seine, the buildings and bridges were forced to adapt to its tear drop shape, adding to its unique beauty and charm.  Artists can frequently be seen painting, or couples sitting under the trees at the tip of the island, enjoying the peaceful and rich scenery. 

At the tip of Ile de Cite

By then, it was time to pick a place for dinner from the abundant choices.  It was a bit reminiscent of Tijuana as they vied for your attention to lure you into their establishment.  We decided that when in France, we would eat French, but since our stomachs really weren't sure what time it was we kept it simple and chose a crepe place that made our mushroom, egg and cheese choice right in front of us.  It was folded in quarters so it could be picked up and eaten with the hands and was delicious.  The next stop was a chocolatier that sold a variety of chocolates by the pound to take with us, and a small grocery where Ron indulged one of his favorite hobbies discovering new and incredibly good cookies.  The big find that night was chocolate-cherry wafers.  We returned to our room by midnight and had no trouble sleeping until housekeeping woke us about noon the following morning.

DAY THREE - Wednesday, April 25, 2012
The day was overcast and cool, as promised for most of the week.  We began with tiny cups of coffee in the brasserie on the street downstairs from us and began a long walk along the Seine to the Eiffel Tower.  We were surprised to encounter a statue of Thomas Jefferson on the way, although his love of France was well known and he was one of hundreds of honorees.  On the way we split a typical French sandwich made with a delicious baguette, just a small portion of meat and some salad inside.  A buttery pastry for dessert fortified us for more walking.

As we continued, we became aware of a festively attired gendarme patrolling the walk above us.  He seemed somewhat curious about us so we stopped to ask him about a building we could see across the river.  This led to a lively conversation about where we were all from and gave him a chance to tell as about all the U.S. cities he knew and that he was soon traveling to New York.  He was more than willing to pose for a picture and was not the first person we'd met to deflate the myth that French people are rude.

I see it!

Still heading towards the Eiffel Tower, we stopped at one of the bridges to more closely inspect an adornment we couldn't quite identify.  As we got closer, we realized that they were locks of all different sizes, shapes and colors attached to the metal grid and had names painted on them.  Thus, we discovered the story of the Love Locks.  It works like this:  a couple puts their names on a padlock, locks it on one of the bridges and throws the key into the river as a symbol of undying love.  At one point, the government was said to have stepped in to cut off many of the locks, but they are now mostly seen on the Pont des Arts and the Pont de l'Archeveche.  With further investigation, I learned that one chooses which bridge depending on whether it's for a committed love or a lover and the only way to break this seal of love is either to find your key at the bottom of the river or good bolt cutters.

Love Locks

It's that way!

Almost-just a little farther!

Approaching the Eiffel Tower is not unlike taking pictures of a mountain from afar.  One can begin snapping from miles away and discover that it's best to pace yourself because you'll be seeing it for a long time before arriving.  

Giant stilt walkers greeted us at the base, handing out information about the tower as they braved increasing gusts of wind and admirably kept their balance.  The line to take the elevators to the top was extremely long because one of the elevators was under repair.  As the weather began to worsen, we decided to just get our photo ops and enjoy the lovely gardens and duck ponds around the base before heading back.  People are more than willing to exchange cameras to take turns snapping each other in front of attractions.  

At that point, weary and damp, we decided to try the Metro to return to our neighborhood, but ended up lost with much longer to walk before finding the San Michel Square again.  Break dancers were performing in front of the fountains to an appreciative and squealing audience, but it was time to find our next French cuisine.  

St. Michel Square

For the rest of our dinners, we chose the fixed price menus where one chooses from an appetizer, entree and a dessert all for one price, tip included.  Between the two of us, we sampled escargot (which as far as I'm concerned taste like pencil erasers sauteed in butter and garlic), goat cheese on toast salad (delicious!) rumsteak (we think that means round steak), lamb chops, fries (yes, French) and chocolate mousse.  There were street bands to listen to on the way home in the cool mist.  With full bellies and many miles of French pavement clocked, sleeping was never a problem. 
DAY FOUR - Thursday, April 26, 2012

The Louvre 

Somehow, French words were coming back to me from two years of Mademoiselle Baker's high school class.  They had to travel a long distance.  We discovered a Starbucks near our hotel and decided that the more ample portions of coffee and spacious seating looking out on the street were more to our liking, so it became our morning first stop and we became temporary regulars, recognized and greeted by the staff.  Our destination today was a walk to the Louvre to see Mona Lisa, of course, and her many framed friends, window-shopping on the way.  

Louvre Gardens

After navigating the extensive exhibits in the Louvre, we were getting weary again and on a whim decided to climb aboard one of the bicycle "taxis" pedaled by strong, young men to get back to our neighborhood.  In doing so, we suddenly became an attraction, so we got into the spirit, waving hellooooo and holding the iPhone up to take mini-movies of the people taking pictures of us.  The iPhone has become a universal symbol of mass communication and people seem to be eager to claim their ten minutes of fame in a picture or movie that may possibly be posted on the internet.  It has certainly loosened up inhibitions and encouraged free expression.  

Our chariot

This also turned out to be one of the brief periods of sun we enjoyed in France before a thunderstorm later roused us from a late afternoon nap.  Another stroll through the Latin Quarter for dinner was not as successful as the previous night and was our only disappointment.  The frog leg appetizer and duck l'orange entree left a lot to be desired, although a repeat goat cheese salad and the lemon and cherry sorbet desserts were winners.  Of course, another trip to the grocery for more cookies was in order.

Ron's dream jalopy

DAY FIVE - Friday, April 27, 2012

Before making our trip, we considered many attractions that we might want to see, but decided against making an agenda.  We mostly just wanted to stroll the neighborhoods, getting a feel for the sights and smells and the differences in culture and people.  Without that pressure, we found ourselves revisiting places of interest, bypassing others entirely and wandering into wonderful surprises we hadn't even known about, such as local art exhibits. 

Neon Exhibit

Today found us returning to the Louvre in the morning to make an exchange at their gift shop.  Having fond memories of a boat trip down the Thames in London, we returned to the Pont Neuf on Ile de Citi and waited in one of the beautiful parks to take a tour boat down the Seine and back for a different, narrated view of Paris.  A family of a mother and her six baby ducklings kept us entertained as they waddled about by the dock.  

Make Way for Les Ducklings

I know I counted 17 bridges that we went under on the boat trip and got to float by the Eiffel tower again.  Following that relaxing experience, we then made a return trip to the Notre Dame Cathedral, which was now open to tourists wishing to see the inside during a prayer service.  I've never been one to have much interest in churches, per se, but the soloist was exquisitely spellbinding and the architecture lit by the many glowing candles was impressively splendid.  I could rob a thesaurus blind to try to do justice to this magnificent, 850 year old work of art, but it would still pale to a first-hand experience. 

Notre Dame Interior

Walking through charming little parks sporting new Spring blooms, we again returned to our favorite area and chose a new restaurant.  Tonight's fare was much better, starting with the now favorite goat cheese salad, an avocado and shrimp salad, Coquille St. Jacques (scallops with the roe left on) and creme brulee and a chocolate crepe.  More strolling led us to the now obligatory cherrie cookie store and home to bed below Moliere's festive countenance.

DAY SIX - Saturday, April 28, 2012
We had a nice surprise at Starbucks this morning.  A young couple we had noticed the day before returned and having apparently noticed us as well, struck up a conversation, which blossomed into a promise to come see us on Cape Cod.  We shared with them the story we'd made up about them the previous morning which was thankfully as much to their amusement as it had been to ours.  We'd decided that Corey was a shifty American with questionable motives trying to talk the gorgeous, French, Elodie into coming to America with him to be a model or a movie star.  It was fun, but nowhere near the truth.  

a VERY OLD piece of stone

Our plan to return to the gift shop at Notre Dame was jettisoned when we saw the line to get in, now on the weekend.  So, we went underground instead, touring the archaeological crypt, which revealed foundations unearthed from the Romans who previously inhabited the area below the cathedral. It was a strange experience to be able to touch parts of a building that someone had touched as part of their daily existence almost 2000 years ago.  

Another walk to a different shopping area in the cold rain and then back to Notre Dame to find an even longer line had us virtually hobbling back to the hotel for another rest and cookie break, but on the way we were treated to a priceless accordion concert in the middle of one of the bridges by a soloist with a face right out of an old painting.  We found that most street performers welcomed encouragement of any kind and would play their hearts out for an appreciative smile and perhaps a Euro in their hat.  

Our last dinner in Paris was another winner, consisting of a legume terrine, another goat cheese salad, lamb stew, coq au vin (that's rooster, not chicken), fruit salad and more chocolate mousse.  It has become very clear why one doesn't see many overweight Parisians.  The food is rich, but portions are modest, eliminating the temptation to overeat, and many walk or ride bikes to their destinations.  It's a no-brainer, really.  We then repacked our bags for the next leg of our trip and basked in wonderful memories of Paris.