Mexico City Times

Musee d'Orsay

Our first day in Paris!  We slept in and enjoyed unpacking, setting up house in our lovely apartment.  We found the coffee and were pleasantly surprised that it was delicious!  See, we have imported CDM (Cafe du Monde) coffee from the beignet cafe in the French Quarter by the same name for eons.  It is very strong and full-flavored, but so was the Tazza coffee Raymonde had supplied for us.  Paris and good coffee!  We were blessed!  We gradually woke up and prepared for the day's outing, the Musee d'Orsay, known for its large collection of Impressionist work.  Following the advice we had received that carrying cash really wasn't necessary, that we could use our credit cards for everything, we set off for the metro station. 

The transportation system in Paris is impressive.  I loved how the bus stops were marked and followed by the drivers, no stopping here, there and everywhere.  Each had a name and there were maps on the stops showing the routes of the lines that stopped there.  Also available are maps of all sizes of all the systems from metro to bus and train lines.  Our apartment was located about 15 yards from the metro station and just a little farther from the bus stop. 

We headed to the metro station.  About to be tested were several pieces of advice we had received.  First was the existence of the Carte Orange, a transportation pass that allows you to get on and off busses and metro cars and travel around the city without having to buy individual tickets.  Secondly, that we would have no problem with the fact that we don't speak French.  "Between English or Spanish, you will be able to communicate, especially using your Spanish."  So we arrive at the bank of ticketing machines and attempt to buy two Carte Orange, but the machine doesn't seem to want to accept our credit card.  So to the Information lady and, you guessed it, she doesn't speak English or Spanish but she speaks French very quickly and somehow in the stream of words after pointing to the picture of the Carte orange on her door, Bob understands that it no longer exists.  So, back to the machines where we now need to buy four tickets using the few Euros we had from our exchange with the red cap at the airport in Mexico City.  But first we try another machine to see if it will accept out credit card for purchasing regular tickets.  About this time a lady stops to ask if she can help us.  At least we took it that she wanted to help because she, too, spoke only French.  She listened to us explain (I think we were using Spanish which is our default language when speaking with someone who doesn't speak English) and then she went to the information lady and questioned her as to why we couldn't buy the Carte Orange.  We stood there smiling apologetically as she got the same message, "Finí."  It is finished.  Then she helps us buy our four tickets all the time speaking a steady stream of French, none of which we could understand but it did not bother her.  She was so nice we just listened and smiled (it was like our Spearhead days all over again).  She gave us our tickets, one to me, one to Bob and the extras to him as well and we followed in tow behind her to the ticket turnstile.  At last!  Something we knew!  You put your ticket in and the turnstile opens to admit you.  But wait!  Bob put in his ticket and the thing didn't move.  So our helper reached up midway on the machine where his ticket had magically reappeared, took it out and handed it to him, explaining, what we did not know, but we got it that he should put it in his pocket and keep it.  Por que?  Quien sabe.  So much for looking like we knew what we were doing in some part of the process.  Soon the three of us were doing the walk/run to the metro platform but another problem surfaced.  These doors had latches on them or at least they appeared to have latches on them (as opposed to the automatic doors on the Mexican metro car) so we had to watch someone open the door to figure it out.  Once inside our French helper contined chatting happily at us.  Then her face got serious.  She lowered her voice (because at least everyone else in the car understood what she was saying) and gave me some sort of instruction.  When she patted her large purse and put it in front of her I knew exactly what she was telling me.    I knew she was instructing me to watch my purse on the metro line. It was like Spearhead all over again.

Old Station New Life

We arrived at the museum a bit breathless and somewhat worn out by our simple purchasing of four metro tickets to find that, yes, they accepted our credit card at the museum.  But not at the sandwich place afterward which meant walking the streets until we found a regular restaurant which would.  Tomorrow we would exhange money and not be left penniless or Euroless (which equals a whole lotta pennies) as we walked the streets of Paris. 

But in the meantime we found the room we wanted to start in, the one with Vincent Van Gogh and spent an entire afternoon drinking in the colors and brush strokes, the Art Nouveau furniture, and the building itself that is the Musee d'Orsay.  What a way to begin our Parisian education.  If only I had asked Antoine Barois for some language lessons before leaving Mexico.  Well, maybe next time.

Vincent Van Gogh

Station Clock

 

Viewpoint

First I need to introduce Emilia to you.  She came to work for us eleven years ago when her son Victor was a baby.  The day after she began working for us her husband abandoned her, her 14-year-old son and her baby, about 7 months-old.  Emilia has had a hard life.  She had to drop out of elementary school in second grade when her mother died.  Being the only girl in the family she had to help with the cooking and cleaning and such.  Consequently Emilia is uneducated in such things as how to read a map but is a good mother and wise in many practical things of life. 

I needed to tell you this before you look at the following photo from our trip.  Look closely at it.  What would you answer if someone asked you "What do you see in this photo?"

SDC10529

After I finished preparing the Smilebox of photos from the trip I played it for Emilia during lunch one day so she could see where we had gone and what we had done, trying to explain it all to her.  When this photo came up her comment was, "My!  That man sure does have some white tennis shoes!"  I laughed out loud!  She had washed his tennis shoes for Bob just for him to take on our trip.  In the Hall of Mirrors Emilia saw white tennis shoes.

Versailles under the Influence...

of Jet Lag

Ceiling, Hall of Mirrors

Continuing to follow the injunction to push through the jet lag, we went to Versailles on Wednesday.  I think we thought we were ready for a full day trip but we realized we had not yet made the transition out of jet lag within two hours after arriving to the ChateauVersailles.  Bob bought tickets for general admission into the estate and also purchased the guided tour which would mean going with a smaller group into the royal family's private suite of rooms and apartments, areas not open to the general public mainly because they keep a close watch on those entering these areas reminding people not to lean against ornately carved and guilded walls or to sit on the furniture. 

While waiting for our tour time we strolled with the rest of the crowd through the museum.  It was packed with people.  We shuffled from one room to the next until we were just ready to be done.  Bob went for baguette sandwiches and drinks and we ate lunch on the steps of the ticketing offices.  We enjoyed the quieter smaller group on the private tour but by the time we were done with a thorough viewing of the interior of the palace and went to buy tickets for the small train that would take us to other parts of the huge property, we were exhausted.  I think the change in altitude from Mexico City combined with the jet lag left us dragging for a longer time than if we only had dealt with jet lag alone.  At any rate, this is the one thing I would have changed about our trip.  I would have gone to Versailles after our bodies had acclimated because I would have loved to spend the whole day investigating all the gardens on the grounds of the estate.  I would love to return to stroll through all the outdoor "rooms" set into the wooded and hedged areas.  I would love to spend an afternoon visiting Marie Antoinette's private world that began with the gift of The Petit Trianon for her personal use and gradually became her own little world of garden and working farm and hamlet put together by her architect and artistic director following her plans.  But, while we enjoyed the ride on the tiny motorized "train," we had no energy left for getting out and exploring the grounds further.  I even  had to make myself walk out to the end of the reflecting pools to take a few photos.  If we ever return.

http://en.chateauversailles.fr  If you are a visit to the chateau, check out this excellent web site.