Joie D'Vivre

Ah, the joys of travel.

It seems that this trip is filled with problems with cab drivers on my exit from the capitals. In London, I had that altercation with the cabbie who was just plain rude. This time, the taxi driver was 20 minutes late and already had 18,60 Euros on the meter.

From my little hotel in the 7th to Rue de Carnot by the Arc de Triomphe, it should be about ten euros. Eighteen sixty - where did this guy start the meter? Banlieue 13???

After some heated debate where the taxi driver offered to take me back to the hotel, I told him to either take me to my destination or to the police station where we would sort all of this out. He decided to go for the destination.

Arriving at Carnot and the Air France Les Cars stop, the meter read 27,20. I gave the guy ten euros and told him that was all he was getting. I also had him drop me off in front of a team of police officers hanging out on the side of the road for good measure.

With bags in hand, I truck over to the Les Cars stop where the bus to Orly is leaving. I tell the attendant "Charles du Gaulle" and he waves me off to wait for the bus to CDG. The Air France bus runs every 20-30 minutes and costs 15 Euros one way. I wait about 30 minutes as other people come and go when the attendant comes back to tell me that the CDG bus drivers are on strike and that I should take a taxi or the RER train.

I've made the journey from the 7th to CDG before and it takes about an hour. I started the journey at 9am and now it's 10:30am. Luckily, there's an RER stop across the street but it's the A train and I need to transfer at Chatelet for the B line to CDG.

Since CDG is outside the city, the usual Metro/RER tickets will not work and I have to fall in the long line to purchase a ticket to CDG. Another ten minutes burned.

From Chatelet, it's about a 40 minute train ride to the CDG Terminal 3 station. Then a transfer to the CDGVAL train to Terminal 1 and I've missed the check-in time for my flight back to Dulles. In typical Gallic fashion, no one is really interested in helping me straightaway. Bonne Chance, they'll get to me eventually.

The key in France is to be politely persistent. Stay the course and they'll get to you. Feign ignorance. Defer to their greatness (especially with government bureaucrats, public workers or SNCF personnel), but let them know you're going to be pleasantly persistent and they'll take care of your needs just to make you go away.

So it's another day and night in the outskirts of Paris. I've opted for an airport area hotel in Roissy to avoid any more travel problems in the morning. The question now is: do I stay at the hotel and chill or head to Le Severo in Paris?

Renvoi

I like living in Baltimore. Of course, one of the biggest reasons why I like Baltimore is that I get to leave from time to time. Problem is that it seems that I rarely look forward to returning home. I enjoy Paris quite a bit. Give me a year to wander its streets and explore my little neighborhood in the 7th.

The few days that I've been here have not been enough. So much more to explore and experience. Down the street are numerous restaurants, cafes and shops that need a thorough investigation. I've spent more time this trip doing the "tourist thing" like visits to the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Royal Opera, Champs Elsyees and general sightseeing.

But I've also taken the time to investigate olive oils, wines, food, baguettes and rotisserie chicken.

More to come but for now, I'm not too excited to depart Paris. Perhaps the warmth of a business class seat will cushion the blow...

Tour Eiffel

The people from the first level.

Overall, I'm a terrible tourist. My hotel in Paris is about five blocks from the Eiffel Tower and I've never been.

I've seen the tower from the street. In the neighborhood, you can't miss it day or night. It towers and looms over the 7th and at night the tower is illuminated, and with the strobes looks absolutely magical. So close and yet I never took the time to visit.

It's one of those things that I would get around to doing. Someday. No worries. Maybe. How cool it would be to see Paris at night from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Someday.


Walking - what was I thinking?

Truth be told, I'm kinda happy with just seeing it from a distance. It's mysterious that way. Mythical even. If it weren't for Ana I might never have gone.

We're on a sort of quest to find a replacement folding fan for her Tia Cristy. Evidently, they have these fans at the Eiffel Tower gift shop when they were here last year. Thunderstorms had just rolled through the city and when we arrived at the Tower, the crowds were surprisingly small and the lines relatively short.

Sometimes I'm just not paying attention and I certainly wasn't when I spied the one entry portal that had no line.



La Defense in the distance.

Robert et Louise

Ana and the Cote du Boeuf pour 2 personnes.

There's one restaurant I've visited every time I've been to Paris and it's Robert et Louise. To be honest, I'm convinced that American Beef is superior to French Beef. Not that the French beef isn't good, because it is. I've just found American beef to be better in both texture and flavor, especially the pastured beef I buy locally back home.

But that doesn't stop me from continually exploring French Beef because, well, I could be wrong. And it certainly isn't that much of a hardship trying to prove myself wrong.


Angelique Bordeaux

This means we're back in the Marais visiting the hallowed Robert et Louise and their fireplace cooked Cote du Boeuf with blood sausage. Somehow, I can't get enough.

I could write more but I think the photos speak for themselves. The blood sausage is still some of the best I've had anywhere, the melon was super fresh and those golden potatoes were killer.

This is how we celebrated The Fourth of July.


Escargots les 6.


Boudin Noir


Sam and Sasha.


Rillettes d'Oie (80%)


Jambon et Melon


Preparing our salad.


Where the magic happens.


The Fat.


Salade.


Pommes Sautees.


L'addition

Paris Non-Stop

There is little doubt in my mind, the TGV is faster than the Thalys, but first class in Thalys is better than TGV. Both EuroStar and Thalys first class offer free food and beverage service, the French leave you to fend for themselves. But no train service seems to understand the meaning of "comfortably cool" because I found the entire train journey in Europe to be borderline uncomfortably hot.

Someday soon I'll have the time to sit down and post about the journey so far. London, Amsterdam, Avignon, Gordes, Paris - all amazing places. Some lessons: the British are not as hospitable as their reputation, the French are more friendly than their reputation, the Dutch have amazing amounts of marijuana and I've returned to my neighborhood hotel in Paris to find it "W"-fied with chic decor, colors, textures and seriously nice mattresses. With new decor, new staff and new beds, one wonders if it will be as memorable as ever - at least one of the front desk people remembers me and has given me another warm welcome. It's good to be home.

Dining On Rooftops

A selection of something to eat.

Eating out is an adventure, but after two weeks of eating out one has to slow down somewhere. Tonight instead of heading to some restaurant we decided to avail ourselves of the very nice rooftop deck and enjoy an evening of simple food, wine and a cigar.

Since my last visit to the hotel, they've completely redone the rooftop deck with astroturf and Fermob outdoor furniture, making for a stylish way to enjoy a cool Parisian evening. To top it off, we met a very nice couple from Yellowknife in Canada's Northwest Territories to share the evening and a baguette.

The Menu:

Veiteau Cheese from the market at Hotel deVille
Le Cayrolais Saucisson Sec
Baguettes from La Grenier A Pain
Cherries from Provence
2009 Touraine Amboise Loir et Cher
Butter and Mustard
Paul Garmirian Belicoso Maduro

A Moment of Avignon

Sunset nears the Palais du Papes.


Getting into trouble in Avignon.


"I didn't see the sign, I swear."


JC and Company.


Very serious about soft serve ice cream.


Very serious about safety.


Happy Elephant?


Steak Frites and Le Jacquemart.

Thalys 9330

Once again, we're rocketing across the French Countryside in a collision course with Paris. One thing this trip has done is refocused my distaste for sparkling water. I really dislike sparkling water. When it comes to water, I just want to chug it down and quench my thirst. Sparkling water hinders both those objectives.

Because it's gassed, you can't chug it down in mass quantities. Because it's gassed, it doesn't satiate the thirst. For both these reasons, I would ban sparkling water if I were King.

Meanwhile, it's a seven-hour journey from Amsterdam to Avignon. We have yet to reach Paris and I'm weary from travel. With Amsterdam's tolerant attitude towards marijuana, I partook and enjoyed both the G-13 Haze and Amnesia Haze, and perhaps it's left me in a bit of a haze today because everything feels a bit more labored than usual. It may be legal but I'm not operating at 100% efficiency today.

Once in Paris, it's a mad dash through Gare du Nord over to the RER train to Gare de Lyon and the TGV down to Avignon. I can't wait to get there and change.

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Falamanki

300 Kph

It's viscerally thrilling to blast across the Belgian countryside at 300 kilometers per hour. The scenery, towns, buildings and people whiz past in blinding fury while we're comfortably ensconced in first class comfort aboard Thalys 9339 on the way to Amsterdam.

Our journey started this morning on Eurostar 9126 out of London's St. Pancras International station and it's been a high-speed fury ever since. On the EuroStar as we passed through underpasses and tunnels, the buffeting from the train increased the cabin pressure causing our ears to pop.

Like the Shinkansen in Japan, trying to watch the landscape whiz by you is an attempt in futility. Perhaps you can watch something in the far distance but anything nearby flashes by so fast that you end up getting dizzy as you try to lock in on the subject, follow it past and then retarget another subject.

The blog has been quiet this week that I've been in London because it's just been mad partying, long nights, early mornings and lingering jetlag. Needless to say, London has been a bit fun but we haven't explored all the bits I was hoping to visit. Once again, a trip to London has been exclusive of Curry Chips and no definitive example of traditional British or Indian cuisine.

A quick thought about London: it's a bit more inhospitable than one would expect of a place renowned for English Hospitality. Almost no one seems to get the notion of basic courtesy or service here. Of course, my ideas on service perhaps are just not in sync with the mode of British living. Or maybe I'm just not Anglo...

More to come when I have a little more time and a larger room. Meanwhile, we'll be visiting Stumptown Amsterdam in the morning if anyone else is in town.

- posted from Thalys 9339 proving that I didnn't lose those paper tickets.

WBC Barista Party

Sammy Piccolo gives a Thumbs Up. Or a challenge to fight.


The food - Pathetic.


The drinks - Even more pathetic.


Rouki


John Muli with Ana and Adriana.


Nik Orosi and our new friend from Australia.


Anya and Chris


Vishram Kashyap and Ishan Nathalie


A completely (and deservedly) hammered World Barista Champion Mike Phillips.


Klaus Thomsen and John Muli


David Latourell and Tim Wendelboe


It seems that the pics get blurrier as the night wears on...

Yas