Today would be the last "transitional" one. We would be moving to a new hotel and starting Roadscholar's Independent Tour of Paris tonight. For the moment, my thoughts turned to going to services at Notre Dame this Sunday morning, since that came first. Realizing we'd gone from Colmar to Reims only a week ago was startling--because of all we'd seen and done since then!
I had already packed my camera in the suitcase and had no intention of taking any pictures today. This Sunday morning would be devoted to the logistics of going to Notre Dame on the bus, attending mass, returning in time to check out, and securing transportation east a few miles to the Patio St. Antoine.
I think we ate breakfast around 9:00. After the Saturday we'd just had, an early start was not in the cards. While at breakfast, the Robinsons and I spoke fondly of our experience at the Garnier the night before. Back in the lobby on our way up, I asked the clerk to give us "late check out," and he agreed. I doubted we'd be back before noon.
Back in the room, I brushed my teeth, packed a little more, and spruced up for church. Johanna had handed me a Notre Dame bulletin when we were there, and it showed the Gregorian Mass was at 11:00 today. I wanted to attend, and Jana, who is also Catholic, wanted to go, too. Being the gentleman and good husband he is, Laron was going with us. One can do worse than be a swinger of birches or attend mass at Notre Dame de Paris!
The Robinsons and I met in the lobby and headed out. We retraced our steps from yesterday morning as for as the St. Denys corner with the bus stop. There we waited for trusty #92 which soon halted right in front of us. We boarded, paid our fare, and settled in for our ride to the Ile de la Cité. There were only a few others on the bus, and as we traveled through Paris, practically no one was out and about at this hour.
When we approached our stop across from the Ste. Chapelle, we pushed the button which signaled a stop ahead. So we exited and walked east past the Gendarmerie toward Notre Dame. The cathedral with its bells ringing loomed in front of us as we approached the three portals. We went to the door on the right side, walked inside, received a program and bulletin, and headed up the middle to be fairly close to the altar in the middle section of wooden chairs.
Something that hinders this description is not just the fact that it was almost a year ago but also the strong emotions churning inside at such a moment. I remember being there well enough, but the occasion engaged me deeply and spiritually, and that makes this an event that's hard to report on.
The clergy were ornately dressed, the Bishop of Paris wore his high, mitered hat as he walked in the entrance procession, and the music and Gregorian chants in the background were all-engaging.
I prayed privately and hard for Aaron Smith and Joybell Schalk. Since then, I am glad to say that Aaron has recovered well from his terrible fall, but I am devastated by the passing of Joybell! I should be talking to her about this blog right now, as I discussed the trip with her while it was being planned!
The mass was beautiful. Prayers were strong, deep, and personal. The sounds of Latin from the Gregorian chant were wonderful. The experience of attending this service at Notre Dame de Paris was a highlight of the month. No reader needs more description than that.
Notre Dame de Paris from the Left Bank
(I took this on Nov. 11.)
The purely Gregorian part of the service followed the mass, but when it was all over, we returned to our bus stop, boarded #92, and headed back to Rue Turenne. As in the past, we had to watch the street names up on the walls at each corner to be sure of just where we were and so we would know when our target was coming up. Again, the electronic signs were out of sync and could not be relied on.For the last time, I stopped in front of Eglise St. Denys and headed around the corner toward the Rue des Arquebusiers and the Villa Beaumarchais. In we went, got our keys, and headed up to our rooms to fetch our luggage.
Good-bye to our bus stop!
Au Revoir au Villa Beaumarchais!
Presently, we were on our way. I handed the driver the address, and we turned right on Beaumarchais and headed down to the big traffic circle at Place de la Bastille. There we went almost all the way around the circle, but finally turned right on Faubourg Saint Antoine.This confused me, because on the opposite side of the circle, the same street continued under the name of Rue St. Antoine. The driver explained that the name change meant that this part of the street was farther out from the center of Paris--that "faubourg" was an old term for "suburb."
We circled the Place de la Bastille to reach Rue Faubourg Saint Anotine.
Nowadays, the city has grown much farther out, and the suburbs are called "la banlieue." In any event, my reading indicates that the Faubourg St. Antoine area has existed for hundreds of years. Thomas Jefferson even mentioned it in his autobiography. He reported a rebellion by workers who lived here when he was our Ambassador to France.When Napoleon III and Von Haussman expanded the city to twenty arrondissements in the 19th century, this area became part of central Paris, and it's become more so ever since as the city has grown outward.
As we drove farther east, Laron seemed a bit put off by the appearance of the neighborhood, and it did look a tad rougher, a little less fashionable than the Marais, but looks would prove deceiving. As we would slowly come to realize, this area was truly vibrant with young French professionals swarming into an area which was relatively affordable and close to their jobs in the heart of Paris.
Soon, we stopped in front of the Best Western Patio St. Antoine. Laron, the driver, and I unloaded our luggage; we paid him and headed through the front door. The entrance to the hotel fronted the street and narrowly fit between businesses on either side, but the hotel expanded greatly as we headed on inside the block.
I think we arrived around 1:45, and check-in was not till 4:00. We assumed we'd have to store our bags and walk around till our rooms were ready, but fortunately that was not the case! The clerk confirmed our reservations and gave us room assignments and keys right then. We headed to the rear of the long hallway out a door that fronted an open courtyard.
Suddenly the clerk reappeared, gave me a different key, and said I'd been given another room farther inside the hotel. Laron and Jana had a room on the first floor right there on the entrance courtyard. My own room was much farther inside this "complex of patios."
I bid them farewell and followed the clerk into an elevator at the far end of the courtyard. Up a flight, we crossed another open area on a higher level to a hallway beyond. There, he opened the first door to the right, and voilà; I was in my new hotel room!
When I walked in, I deposited my luggage, locked the door, and breathed a huge soupir de solagement (sigh of relief). The room was large, and the windows looked out onto the patio I had just come through. While it was slightly below ground level, the room was quiet and comfortable, and I was ready to sack out till we met this evening at 5:30.
After all we had done over the last few days and this morning, I was more than ready to snack on the edibles I'd brought, bathe in a hot tubful of water, and sleep for a while, and that's what I proceeded to do!
We arrive at the Patio St. Antoine.
My room was just to the right of that door.
I rose and dressed around 5:00; then I headed to the Robinsons' room on my way to the lobby. I met them at their door, and we walked through the courtyard, entered the hall, turned right, and went upstairs to the lecture room. It was locked, but we could see a young man inside, through a glass wall. We knocked, and he opened the door and said he was not ready for us yet and please to wait a while longer.
We went back downstairs and waited in the lobby as others of our group gathered. I noticed another large pod of tourists listening to a director in a room nearby and realized that other groups would be using this hotel at the same time we were here. This had not been the case at the Villa Beaumarchais.
Anyhow, back up in the lecture room, we met our Roadscholar Guide, Thomas Randall, a slim, young Englishman (by way of Denmark) who proceeded to hand out information on the week ahead. He had us all introduce ourselves and briefly state our reasons for being here. Then he passed around a sheet for of all to sign and write our e-mail addresses on.
Thomas mentioned that il était d'origine danoise. His family was Danish, his father still lived in Denmark, and he may have emigrated to Britain as a youngster. In any event, he was educated in England and had a distinct British accent. He and Jenny were totally compatible Brits who even spoke the same slang, which we will discuss later.
Thomas Randall
I think Jenny Burdon, our British-born, onsite guide for Paris, was there, but she would not talk to us till tomorrow. I think she merely went to dinner with us. The two of them would work together, accompany us everywhere, and Jenny did the morning lectures after breakfast each day.
Thomas told us when breakfast would be in the morning and when to be in the lecture room on Monday. He then led us downstairs to show us the breakfast room. Then he said we could go back to our rooms briefly before we met back here to go to dinner.
Before long, we were all in the hall and ready to go. We headed out the front door, turned right, and walked a little over two blocks to a place called Les Barjots. Along the way, we noticed numerous small businesses, and I spotted a laundromat.
Inside the restaurant, most of us sat at a long bench by a wall with chairs facing it, but the Robinsons and I took a table opposite, and much to our delight, Thomas sat with us. Soon the waiters served us carafes of water, baskets of bread, and wine glasses containing a mysterious red drink.
Jana wondered what the drink was, so I sipped mine and said, "I think it's kir." Soon Thomas sat down and confirmed that it was indeed kir--a drink made from white wine and crème de casis (black currant liqueur). We went on to drink our kirs with the meal, but I think Jana gave me hers to finish, and it turned out to be sterner stuff than wine alone.
Thomas added that Kir was the name of the mayor of Dijon back in the late 40's. After a bad grape crop, he had the idea of adding crème de cassis to white wine to create a market for the local vintage, and the drink proved very popular. He said if it were made with champagne, it was called "kir royale."
We sat at the table to the left.
View from Les Barjots of Rue Faubourg St. Antoine
Un kir
Service was efficient, the food was good, and it was reassuring to settle in with new guides for another week of touring Paris. I felt yesterday's urgent sense of personal responsibility ease a bit as Roadscholar assumed control.Thomas went on to tell us that he specialized in tours of France, Italy, and Spain and that he now owned a house in Spain to which he would be returning after this tour. He also said that as far as real estate went, one of the most desirable places in Europe, pricewise and otherwise, was Britanny. He loved that area of France and thought it was an affordable, wonderful, somewhat "undiscovered" place to live.
When dinner was over, we walked back up Faubourg St. Antoine, entered the lobby, and with the knowledge of when and where to eat breakfast and when to appear for lecture in the morning, we headed to our rooms. I gave the front desk clerk a time for my wake-up call and got some information about operating the TV. There was a big bowl of hard candy on the counter, so I took some to soothe my throat in the days ahead.
Our plan for Monday was to take a bus tour of the city's major highlights after our morning lecture. Following that, we'd have lunch across from Notre Dame, and tour it and the Ste Chapelle later in the afternoon. That suited me fine. Those were buildings I would never get enough of. So I bade the Robinsons farewell and went to the elevator to go up a level and reach my room in the distance.
Fin
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