to Annecy

Good morning, Paris! Good morning, city that believes croissants and baguettes are important to one's well being! Good morning to all you French people who cannot go through the day without saying bonjour (good morning) a thousand times over!

At this time of the year, Paris mornings are dark. Sunrise is just short of 8 a.m. (Madison's sun rises a whole hour earlier today.) Even though I am leisurely about getting up, about showering, about packing up my bag, I step outside for a pre breakfast walk in the gray light of predawn.

Of course, I walk to the park.

I love this time best here. You see the runners and the handful that cut through to get to work, but mostly you see empty spaces. 

Autumn is definitely felt in a park with so many chestnuts. Nonetheless, the gardens will maintain the flower beds for a long time. Something will be planted in them, in fact, even in the winter (this tells you how mild Parisian winters are as compared to those in south-central Wisconsin!)

Alright, time fro breakfast back at the hotel.

I leave this curious and culture rich city today. At around noon, I have a train, a super fast TGV that will take me all the way to the southeast of France. To the edge of the Haute Savoie -- that mountainous region that I've grow to love. To its regional capital -- Annecy.

I've wanted to see this town for a while now, but it's so out of the way, and definitely a hefty trip even on TGV trains. Not many cities are worth that kind of effort. I've long abandoned a love of urban crawling in favor of something more gentle. But I found a place to stay a bit out of the city. On Lake Annecy. It offers the tranquility I'm looking for on this trip, at the same time that it's a short ride over to the old town for when I do want to explore city streets. (It's called Auberge du Pere Bise -- a  family-run hotel and restaurant standing at the lake's edge for 120 years.)

To see Annecy, it would have been easier to fly into Geneva -- a mere 22 miles south of it. (By comparison, Paris is 350 miles north of Annecy.) But I'm not a fan of that kind of a trip. When it's an option, I do want to take a train over an airplane. And flying into Switzerland taints the trip with flavors of another country. In flying into Paris, I'm keeping it all French.

The train to Annecy leaves from the Gare de Lyon. Feeling ambitious, I decide to walk to it. I've done it before -- google gives it a bit under an hour. But google didn't drag a suitcase and wear a backpack when it ran its estimates. It takes me well over an hour. 

(French men have have conversational skills that come from years of practice...)

And I should have remembered -- it's not an especially pretty walk in that there is a lot of traffic along the major circuit. Still, with a 3.5 hour train ride before me, I like the idea of morning movement. 

And eventually, I pass the Jardin des Plates and that's always interesting, though a little less so toward the end of the blooming season. Still, lovely tree lined avenues!

And now it's time to cross the river...

(finally! Gare de Lyon...)

At the station I pick up a cup of coffee (at Starbucks! I almost asked them if they made Pumpkin Spice Lattes -- but was afraid that they would understand me to mean that I wanted one and there is not a whole lot more on their beverage list that appeals to me less). And now it's time to board the train.

The ride of course is smooth. Very fast initially, slowing down as we reach the more mountainous region of the country. On time. Pleasant. And now I am in the Haute Savoie Department (this is the place where both Morzine (February 2022) and Chamonix (February 2023) are located).

Let me tell you just a little about Annecy. Sometimes called the Venice of the Alps, the town is picturesque, sitting at a point where the river meets two canals. It's green, big on flowers, big on sport. The history of it is complicated and perhaps I'll come back to it when I actually do go into town. For now, think of it as a mid-sized French town (population about 125 000) with Medieval roots and a stunning landscape of water and mountains bordering it on all sides.

I arrive at the train station at 4:30 and cab over to the hotel. 

(on the approach, from cab window)

Too late to study bus schedules. I just want to get to my room. This one.

Trying to save money, I took a room with a "partial" lake view -- meaning you can see some water out the window!

No matter. You just need to walk the hotel grounds, or sit on the terrace to enjoy the fuller view.

I felt the water of this lake -- the cleanest in France, they say. It's actually warm(ish). Not warm enough for me though! This paddler is in a full wetsuit!

I do want to swim though. I need to get my fake knee to work well in water. I deliberately chose a place with a warm pool. Indoors! 

I can't be ambitious today. Call it a soft arrival! I want to smell the air and walk the shoreline for a few minutes and then retire.

(Looking back at the 120 year old hotel...)

I go up the hill to the village (Talloirs) center.

There seems to be a party going on in the main square. All the villagers come out for it. I ask if it's a wedding, but they say no, it's Amelie's birthday! (Is she famous, or are the villagers merely that friendly? I ask at the hotel desk -- who's Amelie?? They tell me -- she runs the Tabac (newspaper) store. Everyone knows her...)

Love, pouring in... so beautiful to watch...

All my dinners are scheduled to be eaten here, at the hotel. I'm staying for four nights and I plan to switch between the two casual eateries at the Auberge. The owners are actually very much involved with refined French cooking -- the chef of the most well known and loved restaurant here has two Michelin stars for it  (Le Restaurant Jean Sulpice), right on the premises of the Auberge. But since I am alone, eating that kind of a meal is simply a waste of money. I want to stay with simpler foods. Today, for example, I eat at the much more casual Le 1903.

One thing you learn very quickly when you try to save on restaurants in French hotels is that the kitchen in the "lesser place" is still run by the same leader who oversees the two-starred Michelin place (that's fancier/way more expensive). At the 1903, the waiter's reaction to my choice of appetizer (crayfish, swimming in a delicious sauce)  was -- oh, that's the chef's most well known dish! Well now, am I really eating in a lesser place?

That crayfish appetizer was indeed fabulous. When I moved on to the fish (from Lake Annecy), I thought perhaps there was a pattern here: the fish was lovely, but it was the sauce that stole the thunder. Remember when French cooking first came to town here, in the United States? We believed then that its value lay in the sauces. Tonight's meal surely lent support to that...

(the bread was also superb: made here, with natural yeast.)

Time to go to sleep. I haven't caught up yer from the lost night over the Atlantic! And tomorrow has to be a full day. Even if it's a "full of nothing day." Somehow nothing in travel is always richly rewarding.

And love...

a day in Paris

When I imagine my travels, when I place myself in different destinations and try to feel if it's a good idea to go there, whether it's a good fit for a particular journey, I do always start with Paris. Should my travels include this city that I once thought of as my most sacred escape destination? This time I was certain that I should. The last few visits to the city were with family, the younger one in July, my older granddaughter in March, and last year, I spent my Parisian days with friends from Poland. Each of these trips was of course magnificent and special, but I take in Paris differently when I am there with someone else. I worry about my fellow travelers. I look at the streets through their eyes. I want to share this city in the best way I can. I lose myself in their experiences, not in my Paris.

 I thought this time, alone, I'd start with a day of just Paris. 

My flight from Detroit was fine. I suppose diminished a little by my reading an article (thanks, NYTimes for the timing!) on the bed bug infestation in Paris. Hotels are the least of the problem. The little bugs apparently are everywhere -- subways, movie houses, you name it! The city is geared toward eradicating the menace before next summer's Olympic Games but that doesn't do me any favors this week. So, mental note: do what I do in New York: check the mattresses for telltale signs! Scan the car seats in the trains. Be vigilant! Or, ignore the whole todo and cross your fingers that you'll be lucky. I choose that option!

We land in a very wet city, but looking at the radar maps, this may well be the only wet hour of my trip. And in any case, it really doesn't matter. It's just me, and I dont mind rain. 

For the first time since Covid struck, I go back to riding the train from the airport. No more taxis! There's the price difference, but too, trains are infinitely more interesting than cab rides. The traffic problems in this city are horrible and you spend way too much time just counting the minutes until you can finally leave that confined space and breathe in some real city air. On the commuter train, you can people watch. I do a lot of it today. The train passes through the east "suburbs," known to be enclaves of an immigrant population. When you stay, as I do, close to the Luxembourg Gardens, you almost believe that Paris is mostly a white city. It's not. France does not collect census data on race, but it does ask about your country of birth. In the last decade, close to 20% of people living in the Paris metropolitan area were born outside of France. Most came from Northern Africa. There's also a sizable group of ethnic Chinese and a very small percentage from southern Europe. All these are surely among the people I see getting on and off the train as I ride into the city. And I think about their lives here and whether they've achieved success, whether they feel French or, like the Parisian baker who won the prize for the best baguette this year (he happens to be from Sri Lanka), whether they still feel strong ties to their home country.

The ride goes by very quickly. And I alight at the Luxembourg stop and come out to face the Gardens. And all I can do is smile.

I'm staying in my favorite room in my beloved Hotel Baume. WIth that simple view that I've grown so fond of over the years.

When I was in Paris in July with the young family, I couldn't get the connecting rooms we needed and so I had to look elsewhere. I found another hotel -- one with an additional star even (they rate everything in this country!), and it was very nice -- but I missed the Baume. I missed the team of people I've grown to know and love. (After a Covid era break, bisous (cheek smooches) are back!) I missed my view, I missed the pleasure of being on this quiet street so close to the park, so close to everything that's familiar. So, good as it was to try another place just once, I am back to the Baume and I bet I wont ever stray again!

I'm hungry! But let's not overdo the meals here. It's way too easy to eat big bready breakfasts, to stop for a delicious lunch and then to take in a full dinner. That's a lot of food. I must go easy at first. Still, I'm hungry! And I'm heading in the direction of Cafe La Varenne. Indeed, it's on my way! Shouldn't I stop at this most favorite lunch place? Of course I should. The perfect snack -- a plate of 3 ripe French cheeses, with a little salad on the side.

(chocolate shopping at corner chocolate store, just because it's nice to pop one at bedtime!)

(this is the true giveaway of my nonFrenchness: I have never owned a pair of shoes that looks anything like any of these)

(selfie, to prove I'm really here!)

In the late afternoon, I have tickets for a special exhibition at the Musee d'Orsay. Paintings from the last two months of Van Gogh's life. Moving to Auvers (near Paris), from the horrors of his years in Arles and the asylum at St. Remi, Van Gogh was looking to stay close to Dr. Gachet (friend, depression doctor, art collector) and to his brother. In these two months, he painted some seventy canvases, forty of which are compiled at the Orsay. 

At the Musee d'Orsay, being farsighted pays. If you buy tickets early in the game, before the exhibition has landed, you can pick an hour of entry and this will allow you then to budge all lines. 

Yes, this exhibition draws crowds, especially French people but not only. Still, it is so superb, that you hardly notice the onlookers. You are drawn to the text that describes the painting and the circumstances behind it...

(Dr Gachet)

(reminds me that the Worldwide Dairy Expo is in progress in Madison and I am missing it!)

(dive into this painting: pretend you're there!)

It is almost overwhelming! Such tender beauty and such turmoil!

(this is believed to be his last painting, done in the morning of the day Van Gogh committed suicide; tree roots...)

(But really, perhaps this one is the one that really gets to you...)

If you dont leave choked up, then you're made of sterner stuff than I am.

(So long as I'm at the Orsay, I peek in at the fifth floor Impressionists. This will be the one time in my life when I will ignore Monet. I am so focused on Van Gogh that everything else seems, well, almost too charming.)

(a Van Gogh in the d'Orsay that comes from an earlier era : two years before his death. A "starry night" at Alrles, just before Van Gogh was hospitalized)

(at the Orsay, if you find a window onto the city, you'll have yourself a really good view)

After I leave, I walk along the Seine...

... and I think about passion and talent and mental health. And I think about how museums create an opportunity to get really close to magnificent art. And how we, the humble populace are so appreciative of this raw talent! Think how many people have studied the paintings of Van Gogh and continue to crowd around his artwork!

[Being a person with a camera, I can hardly grumble at others with their phone cameras, but I was amused today to see how many raised their phones to snap everything in sight. It used to be that you couldn't take pictures at all in special exhibitions. Then the rule was you could take pics but you couldn't use flash. These days, it's free rein! The only downside with all these phone cameras is that they require a really close approach to the artwork, so that the people with these phones are always blocking your viewing pleasure. Still, they want to examine these paintings again when they get home. Who can blame them?!]

(Walking back, I encounter countless scenes such as this one, with Parisians doing what they do best...)

Evening: I booked a dinner at a restaurant that's totally new for me and a bit more particular than what I normally would choose for a solo meal. La Table de Colette. I dont know how I heard of it, possibly from my hotel people, but everything about the place touched my curiosity: the emphasis on the local vegetable garden of a farm by the sea, the eco-emphasis on everything -- from green appliances, to seed saving and notes on carbon footprints of the items on the menu, the fact that the chef is a woman (still a rarity in France) -- Josselin Marie.

It's an excellent meal. You must choose one of two fixed priced settings: a five course one, or a seven course one. I went with the fiver. There were bits of a fish accompanying one of the courses, but otherwise, it was totally vegetable based. I loved two of the dishes totally: the pumpkin soup (photo below) and the cassis cake.

 

It's very late and I am very tired by the time I return to my room by the Odeon Theater. Tomorrow I leave, but tonight I feel so very full of Paris.

travel day

A beautiful morning once again. Sunshine, delicately warm breezes, a light morning mist. I feed the animals with a bounce in my step. 

And then -- Ed, are you up? I'm going to do the bike loop. Want to come?

From Ed -- aren't you leaving soon? He must be looking at my unpacked suitcase. Wow, you are committed!

Well yes, it looks like I'm downright obsessed. But the fact is, these rides with Ed have been wonderful and I will make time for them! Packing is secondary.

We do our loop and talk about a trip he and I may do together in June. No flights needed! 

Mostly though, we pedal the hills and vales, past ponds and misty grasses...

Onto familiar trails, so familiar!

Looping over to Lake Waubesa -- serene this morning. As if sharing in the calm of our ride.

And then home again. For breakfast, on the porch, with a few dahlias picked for these last morning meals outside.

And then I do pack, quickly, lightly, and I'm off. To the airport. To Detroit, where I have a long layover, but it doesn't matter at all, because it all fits into my plan for a period of quiet. A friend had asked -- what do I plan to see? What's my agenda? Well, I have a vision and includes seeing this maybe, and eating that, but honestly, it's all very loosey goosey. The absolute imperative is that I dont feel rushed, that I dont feel compelled or obliged. 

Where am I going? Initially to Paris, but only for one night. The next day (so, Wednesday), I'm catching a train. More on that later. For now, I'm just watching passengers board the plane and wondering about their travels and their destinations. Shorts means south, jackets -- stay up north. They fill the aircraft, I turn toward my kindle, and we're off!

with love...

Sunday

Ambition: it can knock you down flat, right? Why or why would anyone my age choose to ambitiously bike over to Belleville Wisconsin when they live on the farmette and they're 70 years old? Well, here are a few reasons:

1. It's the second day of Second Summer. A gorgeous day with plenty of sunshine and with that feeling of lightness that comes when the sun is your friend. Perfect for biking!

2. As I said, I'm leaving tomorrow and a longer bike ride will give me a chance to spend the day entirely with Ed, doing what we love doing together -- exploring the places around us. Within driving or, in this case, biking distance. Sort of. 

3. Our winter CSA farmers -- Sung Haven Farm, located outside Belleville -- are hosting a fundraiser to create opportunities for kids with disabilities to come and visit the farm. We cannot say no to that! 

4. And of course, it would be cool to visit their farm and see where all our winter spinach comes from.

5. It's good to vary your biking routes a little. Or a lot. I admit, this is a lot of variation. With hills, which bother me less on the electric bike, but still, they require effort. Which is good for me, no?

With all this in mind, I walk over to feed the animals...

We eat breakfast...

And we set out.

And it is a pretty ride. After the initial hills to get us to the bike trail, we stay on a fairly flat run, until we have to veer off on the rural roads again. And then we have more hills. But hey, all this will make us stronger if it wont kill us first! (Do note that it did not kill us.)

At Snug Haven, Bill (who, along with his wife farm the land here) had told me to take the path up to the top of the hill before we come down to where the veggie growing and partying and eating is taking place. For the view. And it is some incredible view. I cant think of a better one in our county!

And then we go down, for the food, the drinks -- donations by Madison's best meat purveyors, salad makers and fruit bar bakers...

And I make a silent auction bid on a coffee table (wait, what?! a new piece of furniture?? I will explain...), and then we walk over to see the hoops that give us such wonderful spinach and carrots and green leaf veggies all winter long...

And now it's time to bike home. The energy levels are always lower on the return, but we do it!  In total it's only 1.5 hours of pedaling each way (Snug Haven Farm is just 20 miles southwest of our farmette), but even one way is more than we usually do in a day.

Still, as we bike side by side, I tell Ed that nothing that I will do in the next week will give me more fun than I've had today. Sure, there will be other benefits. Aplenty. But this day ranks high on the glorious meter!

So now, what about this coffee table (which I unfortunately do not get)? And what happened to the used couch bid we put in last night? Well, not surprisingly, the couch owners ignored our low ball offer ($200 and they were asking for $350). Ed was unconcerned. We'll find another. Here's where I put in a plea: how about an Elm Lawn new one for just under $1000? I knew he'd not go for it. But he softened just a bit. He looked up the couch we'd placed a bid on, found it on Amazon and, too, found that we could buy a "damaged box" one for less than the people were asking for the used one! Ed does like a deal. 

He tells me -- let's sit on it for a while, even as he knows I wont sit on it. I am terrible at sitting on anything. And so we buy it. To be delivered next week, with whatever damage there is. I mean, maybe it will be unnoticeable damage, right?

And since we are improving our living space, I told him that it's high time I got rid of the end table on wheels which is goofy and wobbly. Hence the bid on the lovely cherry wood table. Which I did not get. (I'll keep looking!)

I cook dinner then. For the young family. It's all the more lovely to see them because I'm heading out and so our routines -- with the kids, with clocking in with the parents -- will be disrupted for a while. That's always the downside of leaving. You leave your sweet beloveds behind. But not today! Today we feast!

(After dinner, Ed puts away the hens and feeds the cats -- a chore that Snowdrop has always loved to help with. I think Sandpiper pretty soon will join them in this!)

(Done!)

And then I clean up and snuggle on the couch with Ed and I'm thinking -- I should pack now. Surely I should pack now. But it's too good just to sit and watch a show with him. Munch a square of Toblerone. Exhale. Tomorrow: I'll throw a few things into my carryon and take off. Tomorrow!