Baguettes and Croissants

After that god damn awful train, we emerged from Gare de Lyon with pale eyes and crazy hair. We all felt the desperate need to wash the stink of the train off us, but had to wait a few hours before we were able to drop our bags off at the apartment. We killed some time at McDonald's to order a Royale with Cheese and pilfer their WiFi.

We navigated the metro system to our apartment in Montmartre to drop our bags. We were lucky we were able to do that, as official check in was still another few hours later. We bundled up (raining steadily outside) and decided to walk to look at the Moulin Rouge close by. Unexciting in the day, for your information. The whole area surrounding it is packed with strip joints and sex shops, neon sign after neon sign advertising something XXX rated. We managed to find a cute little restaurant close by, Chez Julien. This provided us with the best coffee of the whole trip, and we ended up going here five times in four days. If you're headed to Paris, come ask for directions - great coffee, excellent food, and a very long happy hour! We wandered around Montmartre for awhile, exploring the cemetery and the quirky little artisan area that lies in the shadow of the Sacre Coeur. The rain drove us quickly back to the apartment at 3pm to check in, where we dried off and explored our dinner options. Our apartment was the most bohemian, artsy, over-stuffed place, and we loved it. Filled with books and artwork, we felt so French and hip it almost hurt. While the building was secure and safe, the area we were in was definitely not the "safe, quiet" neighbourhood we had been described. People eyed off our bags as we gripped them tightly to our sides, and men called out to us on the streets trying to sell us things (I'm pretty sure we were offered drugs at least twice!...). In a group we were fine though, however we did start crossing the street to walk down the other quieter, less chaotic side!

The next morning was not raining, thankfully. We set out for the Arc de Triomphe, and found the cutest little patisserie for breakfast. Butter croissants and cafe au lait, bliss. We climbed up the famous arch for that quintessential Parisian view. We crammed a full tourist's agenda that day, walking under the Eiffel Tour (still astonished me with its size) and spent some time absorbing the gothic grandeur of the Notre Dame. We wandered back to Chez Julien for dinner and happy hour, we we spent much longer than 60 minutes drinking our way through the cocktail selection (5 euros) and eating burgers, which ironically the French do incredibly well. After racking up a huge bill (trying desperately to not mentally convert it to Australian Dollars, still worth it), we stumbled back to the apartment to finish off the bottle of Jaegermeister from Italy, somewhere around 2am.

Needless to say, we weren't in the greatest shape the next morning... some of us worse than others. There is a regular pattern when the four of us drink together, and it always ends with Harry and Michaela checking what their stomach linings look like in the early hours of the morning. After a very long sleep in, I spent the first waking hours hydrating the invalids and attempting to keep painkillers in their system. Still worth it. We didn't manage to get ourselves in a fit state to leave the house at any decent hour, so only managed to exit the building like trolls emerging from a dark cave in the late afternoon. We strolled down the Champs Elysee (still filled with Christmas market stalls, I thought we were done?) and towards the Lourve (closed). Not a terribly productive day! We did haul our butts out again into the cold, dark night to a night cruise down the Seine. Harry and I had done this on our last trip and it was a highlight for us, seeing the city of Paris all lit up at night as you cruise through the centre of the city. However, big difference between pottering down the river on a balmy July evening, and the freezing cold rain you experience in early January! We still enjoyed it though, and at least we felt we had accomplished something for the day.

The next day we split itineraries. Adam and Michaela were off to see the catacombs, which we had done before. I had my heart set on seeing the Paris Opera house (Palais Garnier), given the connection with Phantom of the Opera. Palais Garnier is so decadent, so opulent, it almost rivals Versaille. Gilded statues and sweeping marble staircases, frescoed ceilings and jewelled foyers. Definitely a must-visit if you visit Paris! We met up again with Adam and Michaela at Sainte Chapelle (another  highlight from the previous trip that needed to be repeated), and trekked out to Cemetiere du Pere Lachaise to pay homage to the likes of Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf and Jim Morrison.

Ahhh Paris, j'adore. I enjoyed it so much more this time, despite the weather. It was nice to just absorb the food and culture, explore the different arrondissements and marvel at how pretty the city is. If you are prepared to put up with cold and a bit of rain, I would still recommend Paris in the Winter - less people, no big lines, and terrific winter foods. It also smells a lot less~!

Au Revoir, for now, until we say "Hello" (in English!) from London!

Venice blog post #2: Three Years Later

We left Salzburg most regretfully – not only had it been home for a full week, and a most hospitable city, but we hadn’t managed to see any snow! Our train to Venezia Santa Lucia via Villach was most uneventful. When I stepped out of the train station and saw the grand canal, with the beautiful bridges and typical Venetian architecture, I almost cried, and remembered why I had been so desperate to get back here. We found our apartment after a few wrong turns (damn you, Google Maps). It was clean and excellently kept, and in the quiet neighbourhood of  Cannareggio, away from the hordes of tourists. 

I presumed that the crowds of visitors would not be as crazy as when we last visited in peak season, but I was very wrong. Despite the cold weather, Venice was packed. This didn’t deter us though, as while Adam and Michaela rested at the apartment, Harry and I braved the evening crowds to wander down the tiny streets and back alleys, packed with shops selling leather bags, books, puppets, Venetian masks and Murano glass. We found ourselves at St. Mark’s square after dark, which was much less crowded at this time than I remembered it being. St. Mark’s is one of those places that pictures just do not do justice. The piazza is surrounded on three sides by the famous arches and marble façade, capped at the end by the wonder that is the St. Mark’s Basilica. Towering over it all is the Campanile de San Marco, the giant tower that houses the bells of the church. The Piazzetta that runs along the waterfront (called the Lagoon) is one of the most gorgeous vista’s I’ve seen in my life. Gondola’s tied up to the poles and piers, overlooking several imposing churches on the outer islands. Definitely a view everyone should try to see at least once in their life!

We went out for dinner that night and started the four day carb-feast that was our time in Italy. There was none of what usually happens with me at Italian restaurants in Australia – the eternal decision between pizza and pasta. Here? Order pizza for lunch, have pasta for dinner. Thank goodness we spent so much time in Venice walking around. To go with our meals, Michaela and I ordered a bottle of moscato. It reduced us to tears, no joke. It was so ripe, so smooth, and went down so easily that we polished off the bottle without blinking twice.

On Wednesday we threw caution to the wind and went exploring. We were desperate to find Bigoi, a pasta place that received rave reviews on TripAdvisor, and traditional gelato away from the crap they provide on the main drag for tourists. We passed by the Rialto (shut for renovations and completely covered in scaffolding, sad) and wended our way down the crooked passages. Bigoi was worth the search. A tiny hole in the wall, the two staff were frantically serving the mass of people milling around the door. The pasta was fresh, instantly cooked and served with a choice of sauces. Smothered in parmesan and handed to you in a Styrofoam cup for all of 5 euro. We took our cups and went to sit on the step of a nearby canal. Life complete. To wash it down, we went and found a high-recommended gelato shop. I could wax lyrical here about the consistency, taste and joyousness of it all, but I won’t. I realise I do spend a lot of time on this blog talking about food… but those of you who have met me will know that at breakfast I’m thinking about lunch, and at lunch, start thinking about dinner. Italian food is my favourite, and suffice to say I spent the four days we spent in Venice absolutely stuffing myself.

Thursday was New Year’s Eve, and surprisingly most attractions were still open. We had wanted to visit Palazzo Ducale, the Doge’s Palace the day before, but the lines were astronomical. Thanks to some clever research, we had discovered that you could buy a multi-pass ticket for the less-popular and well known Museo Correr across the square, which included entry into the Palace. So we spent the morning wandering around the museum, looking through beautiful old rooms of Austrian empresses, learning the history of Venice as a powerhouse of culture and naval might, and appreciating the art it had to offer. After lunch we skipped merrily past the line of people queuing for the Doge’s Palace, ticket in hand. Audio guide in hand, we learned about the political history of Venice (complicated) and discovered the opulence that comes along with ruling it. The Basilica San Marco was actually built as a private “chapel” for the ruling Doge, not for the people! It was one of the most extravagant churches I’ve seen since St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, completely covered in gilded surfaces and extraordinary artwork. The floor, covered in mosaic’s, is undulating underfoot, and I’ve read that puddles gather here in extreme weather as Venice slowly sinks futher and further into the sea. Or, is it the water levels rising from global warming? Both? Anyway, the Palace was completely fascinating, filled with secret rooms and passages. We passed over the famed Bridge of Sighs and experienced the last view of Venice the prisoners of the state had. I would be miserably sighing too!

While we aren’t, how you say, party people, we still figured we should make an effort to see the fireworks for New Year’s Eve. After all, the ones in Venice are famed around the world. We couldn’t face the idea of cramming in with ten’s of thousands of other people into St. Mark’s square, or dealing with the “traffic” as most of the tourists and city headed down the tiny paths towards it. We took a different route to a point just opposite the square on the other side of the canal. It was a long walk, over an hour, on a night that measured only -3C. With a countdown (“Tre! Due! Uno!”) and a cheer we rang in 2016. We were spoiled with a solid 20 minutes of the most spectacular display I’ve witnessed. Props to Michaela who provided the photos below (I was too fire-struck to take any!).

We took some time the next day to sleep in, relax, and do any shopping or re-visiting of places at a slower pace. Venice was getting very cold at this point, the day’s hovering around zero and hitting the minuses when the sun went down. It was the coldest weather we’d experienced so far (go figure), and I was mighty glad I’d forked out for good thermals and a good jacket. The boots mum had left behind for me from her last visit were a godsend, as the puddles gathered in the streets they kept my feet nice and dry. Thanks mum! Tired of fighting the crowds, we took the train to Verona on Saturday. We spent a few hours wandering around this delightful place, visited Juliet’s balcony (“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”), an ancient arena similar to the Colosseum for the boys and another castle and bridge (Harry always manages to squeeze one of those in!). It was a whirlwind trip made better by the fact that it SNOWED. Honest to goodness falling flakes. We were all super excited, and almost wished we weren’t on such a tight schedule to get back to Venice to catch our next train to Paris.  It really started coming in thick and fast as the train moved off from the station. Oh man, I really hope we get to see it lying thick somewhere…

We managed to get to our night train to Paris on time. We had a compartment to ourselves this time, which was nice, but the whole thing was an experience in itself. The converted beds weren’t great and none of us slept well, and it appears no one else on our carriage knew how to use a toilet, or rather aim in it. It was too warm in the carriage and after 14 hours, we were done. Upside? We got off the train in Paris! However, that is a story for another day…