TravelStream™ news feed for member berniandjay on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/berniandjay en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 11 Jan 2009 02:22:34 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222149540/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222149540/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222149540/tpod.html Sun, 11 Jan 2009 02:22:34 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

This was my last full day in Paris. I wanted to go for one last (albeit short) morning run.  It was freezing when I stepped outside.  It was a good thing that I had made a prudent purchase at Monoprix the day before - black knit gloves.  It wasn't long before I was numb to the cold.  My route of choice this morning was the quai on the right bank side of the Seine.  I crossed the river at Pont de la Concorde and headed back to the apartment.  But first, I paused momentarily to snap a photograph of Thomas Jefferson's statue.  We had enjoyed the John Adams miniseries on HBO, which gave us a greater appreciation for our founding fathers. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/of50590442-1.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">After a shower and breakfast, I set out for my last day of exploration.  First stop - Grand Palais and Petit Palais, which I've never seen up close.  I had one more ticket left from the carnet and when I arrived at the Champs Elysees Clemenceau Metro stop, I succeeded in purchasing a Mobilis, yay!  I walked the perimeter of the Grand Palais, which appeared to be undergoing some type of renovation.And then it was off to make my money back on the museum pass.  I decided to visit one of our favorite haunts in Paris, Musee D'Orsay.  I breezed right through the entry for reservation holders and headed straight up to the Impressionists. I visited old friends, Degas, Monet, Renoir and paid homage to some favorites, like Whistler's Mother, which had been on loan the last time we visited the D'Orsay.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3158.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>This minder was just waiting to pounce on anyone who would dare use flash!<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3163.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Whistler's MotherThen, I discovered a new friend and favorite - three men scraping a wood floor.  It was <i>Raboteurs de Parquets by Gustave Caillebotte. I was drawn to this painting.  There was something mesmerizing and evocative about it.  All I know is that it would be a different story if the men were fully clothed.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3166.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>The Wood ScrapersThen it was off to the Marais and the Musee Cognaq Jay, the former home of the founders of the now-defunct La Samaritaine.  Admission is free here.  I walked fairly quickly through the maison.  While it is a lovely place, there was nothing noteworthy here for me to linger over.My last lunch was a return visit to L'As du Fallafel.  I got stomachache trying to eat and walk at the same time, but every bite was just as crunchy and delicious as the first time. It was on to Musee des Arts et Metiers.  After getting off the Metro at St. Paul, I got rather lost looking for the museum. I initially arrived at the school of the same name, where a gentleman gave me directions in French, which I apparently didn't understand.  Because I wandered around the area for several minutes.  After scrutinizing my map a few more times, I was on the right track.  A few seconds after my epiphany, a couple of men in a truck stopped at a light asked me if I needed help, which I thought was very sweet and considerate.  "<i>Non, merci," I replied. The museum itself would not make a bad field trip.  The displays and exhibits here run the gamut of rudimentary counting machines to colonial-age printing presses and moon-landing robots.  My personal favorite was a model of Frenchmen assembling the Statue of Liberty. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3194.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">I had one last museum on my list and it wasn't too far from the apartment, so back to Ile de la Cite I went.  The entrance to the Crypt Archeologique is adjacent to Notre Dame.  There was a slight odiferous scent in the air, which I understood to be related to the preservation efforts of the excavation site.  I was exhausted at this point, so it was difficult for me to imagine the remains in its former existence. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3203.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>What Lies Beneath Notre DameAlthough the rest of my body was dying to take a nap, my stomach was jonesing for ice cream, specifically caramel and pear ice cream from Berthillion.  I headed back to my local takeaway stand. Although I had received the last scoop of their caramel the day before, I was hopeful that they would have replenished their inventory within the last 24 hours.  Alas, this was not the case.  Strike one. fearless, I headed across the Seine and spotted a café that carried Berthillion but unfortunately, it did not appear that takeaway was an option.  Strike two.  Then I thought it would be a good idea to head toward Ile St. Louis, which, after all, is the home of Berthillion.  The first café I ran into did indeed have Berthillion and had takeaway to boot, but no caramel!  It began to dawn on me that this was a very popular flavor.  Strike three.  I turned the corner and found Esterina.  They had caramel and a double boule was one euro cheaper than the other places!  Yay, victory! <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3211.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>L'Flore en L'Ile - Strike Three<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3212.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Score!The first thought I had in mind was to enjoy my ice cream at Square du Vert-Galant, but I didn't think my feet, or the ice cream would make it that far.  So I enjoyed my ice cream cone on a bench in the garden behind Notre Dame.  The ice cream was delicious of course, but a sudden feeling of sadness came over me again as I sat alone.  Maybe it was a combination of the gloomy sky and my fatigue. After I had crunched on the final piece of cone, I set off for the apartment.  Along the way, I spied fellow Americans staring intently at their Rick Steves while standing on the corner of Pont St. Michel and Quai des Orfevres.  I offered my assistance and they pointed to St. Chapelle on their map.  I pointed my finger in the right direction and they asked, "Is that what the long line is for?"  "Probably," I answered with a smile.Back at the apartment, I crashed for an hour or so and then did a bit of packing.  Then I was off to do some last-minute shopping.  I made my way to Rue Bonaparte to initiate myself into the Pierre Herme fan club.  Pierre Herme is one of the premier patisseries in Paris.  I selected an assortment of macarons to enjoy immediately, as well as a box to take home to Jay.  My favorites - the the Marron &amp; The Vert Matcha and Plentitude.  The Deliciuex wasn't so bad either. (Jay's verdict - Pierre Herme better than Laduree!)I headed back to Mon Bon Chien in the 15th eme to pick up more treats for the Yorkshire terrorists, as Jay had reported that they'd immensely enjoyed the first round of peanut butter truffles.  I arrived at the shop to find it completely rearranged.  I recalled that Harriet had mentioned something about moving everything around in the store.  Diablo was lounging on the sofa and didn't seem to be terribly excited about this visitor.  It turns out that he had gotten into hot water earlier and had been placed on time-out. I thanked Harriet profusely for the tickets to the Animal Expo.  We bid adieu and I promised to return soon.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3219.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Diablo of Mon Bon ChienI made another journey to Champs Elysees for a stop at Laduree.  As expected, the line for patisseries was long. I picked up several boxes of assorted macarons and a few pistache, per Jay's request.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3221.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Laduree <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3225.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>So many pastries, so little time!Outside, it was raining.  (It always seems to rain on my last day in Paris.)  Unfortunately, I had chosen not to take my umbrella with me.  I threw my scarf over my head and ran to the nearest Metro stop.  By the time I popped out of the Cite stop, it had ceased raining.At the apartment, I finished packing my bags and pondered over my dinner possibilities.  Dinner with Linda was a no-go as she was feeling ill.  I thought it would be nice to gaze at La Tour Eiffel during dinner on my last night, so I headed out to the Trocadero.  I thought I'd check out Le Café de l'Homme.  However, as soon as I walked through its entrance, it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to snag a seat. I settled on one of the cafes across the way.  I believe it was called Café du Trocadero.  I picked a table outside and ordered soon enough.  The meal was nothing to write home about, but it was a memorable dinner all the same.  When it came time to order dessert, the waiter informed me that my initial selection was "finished" and asked me if I would like anything in its place.  "<i>Je voudrais quelque chose avec chocolat, s'il vous plait," I replied. ("I would like something with chocolate, please.")  He eventually came out with a piece of chocolate cake. Then the gentleman sitting at the table on my left struck up a conversation with me...in French.  He must've seen the puzzled look on my face because he repeated in English, "Where are you from? Your French accent is good."  Yeah right.  "<i>Merci, monsieur. Je suis Americaine."  We conversed for the next half hour.  He was a cardiologist who lived in the 16th arrondissement.  I won't bore you with the details of our conversation.  After I told him that it was my last night in Paris, he offered to take me out around town in his car and go to a place where there was good wine.  I said that I would love to take him up on his offer but I had an early flight the next morning. After I bid him farewell and thanked him for a lovely conversation, I took one last look at the iron lady in blue and descended the stairs to the Metro.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0215.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Until we meet again, mon amie!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222103640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222103640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222103640/tpod.html Sat, 10 Jan 2009 13:52:36 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

This morning, I woke up with a sore throat, which is typically the beginning of sickness for me.  I got up and downed a glass of orange juice and set off in search of toilet paper.  I had run out of it the day before and had resorted to using paper towels, which isn't so friendly to the derriere.  (Sorry, this is probably TMI).So, off I went crossing Pont Neuf to the Left Bank where I strode determinedly in the direction of Champion. But first, a quick stop at Le Buci for <i>une café et une croissant et une orange juice, standing up at the counter, <i>bien sur!  We did a lot of this during this trip, in Nice and in Paris, as it is a quick and less expensive way to have breakfast.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0421.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Breakfast at Le BuciI arrived at Champion only to find that it was closed until noon on Mondays.  I wandered the streets searching for an alimentari store or anything that remotely looked like it would carry toilet paper.  No luck.  I did however manage to pick up some throat spray at a pharmacy (after first asking, "<i>Avez vous papier de toilet?"), which helped with the sore throat.I headed back toward the Seine and found a Citadel where I entered and asked the concierge where the nearest supermarche was located.  He said Champion and I advised him that Champion was <i>ferme until noon. So, he pointed me in the direction of a Franprix on Blvd. St. Michel and even provided me with a map. I never made it to Franprix, as I spotted a Monoprix on my way there. After spending half an hour browsing the accessories and cosmetics section, I made my way downstairs and tada! - found the toilet paper aisle.  What a wide variety and most of them in pink!  After making my selection, I grabbed another bottle of orange juice and headed to the checkout counter. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0423.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> <i><i>Next stop was across the street to the Musee National de Moyen Age aka the Cluny. At the ticket purchase area, I made a GTD to buy a museum pass (which turned out to be a really bad idea - more on that later). While most people come to the Cluny to view the famous Lady With the Unicorn tapestries, I enjoyed the decapitated heads and headless statutes more.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0436.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Heads of Kings?<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0435.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> <i>The Matching Bodies?<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0427.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">A quick stop at the apartment to drop off my purchases and then it was off to meet my friend Linda for lunch in the 7th eme.  I'm not sure what possessed me to not take the Metro.  I had given myself 20 minutes to walk from Ile de la Cite to our meeting point, the Ecole Militaire Metro stop.  I should've given myself 45 minutes. I had worked up quite a sweat by the time I met her, almost an hour late.  I was definitely going to treat her to lunch to make up for my egregious tardiness.We strolled around for a while looking for a place to eat.  We settled on an unassuming bistro and decided to sit outside.  Linda and her husband moved to Paris from the States a year ago after her husband was transferred for work.  The lucky girl does nothing but take French lessons, play with her cat, and explore Paris.  Unfortunately, I cannot recall what I ate but remember that it was very satisfactory.  During the meal, she started giggling and I looked up to see a large group of people on segways speeding by.  She said they look even funnier at night because they wear glowsticks around their necks.  We parted ways agreeing to meet up for dinner the following night. Since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to pay homage to La Tour Eiffel.  She never fails to take my breath away.  As I was crossing the river on my way to the Trocadero, my cell phone rang and it was Jay.  It was 7am in the morning in California and he was getting ready to go back to work.  Hearing his voice made me feel like he was right there with me.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3094.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">It was time to embark on my passages exploration.  Covered passages or galeries were the predecessor to the modern day shopping mall.  I'd always wanted to explore the remaining passages in Paris, but never had the time.  On the way, I decided it would be a good idea to have ice cream from Berthillion.  I didn't actually go to a Berthilllion, but to one of its many outposts on Ile de la Cite.  My pick was a combo of caramel and pear. DE-LI-CIOUS!!! I had a new favorite Parisian treat.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3095.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Yummy!!! <i> I headed down Rue St. Denis in search of the Passage du Grand Cerf. There were sex shops galore and dozens of street wear apparel stores, like this one.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3096.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">The arcade is a well-preserved narrow corridor with wrought-iron arcs framing the ceiling. A cute shop called Pachyderme had its entire inventory on sale 50% off as it was going out of business. I picked up a handmade vanity mirror (that cracked during the journey home) and a couple of cosmetic bags. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3101.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Passage du Grand Cerf<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3105.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> <i>Pachyderme's Going-Out-Of-Business Sale<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3107.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>An interesting building I saw on the way to Galerie Vivienne.Then it was on to Galerie Vivienne, the quintessential covered passage. I spied another cute boutique chockfull of graphic handbags, chic pencil cases, and whimsical baby toys, among other things.  I picked up a few items to bring home (gnome sticky notes for me and a cherry blossom pencil case for niece).  By then, I was feeling thirsty.  I'd wanted to have refreshment at A Priori The, but they were closing up as I arrived.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3108.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3111.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3112.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>I'm a sucker for these types of shops<i>.After exiting Galerie Vivienne, I wandered around a bit and it wasn't long before I realized I was at the Palais Royal.  Despite this being my fourth time in Paris, this was my first time at the royal palace and I felt as if I had found a hidden treasure.  I'll let these photos do the talking.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3117.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Lovers in Love<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3120.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Naptime<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3123.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">Buren's Columns were closed off to the public and surrounded by several makeshift partitions. Makeshift is probably not the best word to describe them as each partition served as a frame for a square-sized piece of glass. These pieces of glass served as windows into the courtyard and provided one with the opportunity to observe the black and white-striped stumps.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3133.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3127.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3130.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">Next on my agenda was some shopping.  By this point, my feet were screaming murder, so I hailed a cab and said to the driver, "Galeries Lafayette, s'il vous plait."  After browsing the handbags, shoes, and clothes departments with no success, I turned my attention to the food hall.  I selected a few treats courtesy of Sadahuru Aoki, an up-and-coming pastry chef.It was time to head back to Ile de la Cite.  Dinner was at Taverne Henri IV, a favorite haunt of legal eagles.  I ordered a salad and goat cheese tartine, which was gooey and divine.  For dessert, I tried mini baba au rhum, which I didn't particularly enjoy.  No worries - there were Aoki macarons for me to devour.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3226.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3137.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3138.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221457680/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221457680/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221457680/tpod.html Fri, 09 Jan 2009 00:03:07 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Nice, Provence, France

  It was raining in Monterosso when we boarded our train.  Our destination was Nice, France. After a few days in the Italian Riviera, we were making our way to the French Riviera.  The train ride from Monterosso to Nice is four hours in duration, with a short stop in Genoa.  On the first leg of the ride, we shared a cabin with an elderly English couple and their teenage granddaughter.  They had just been to Florence and were on their way back home to England, but they would be staying in Menton overnight.  The granddaughter was starting her first year at university the following week and her grandparents had treated her to one last holiday.  The grandfather engaged us in conversation for nearly two hours with topics ranging from politics in America to the global economy.   In Genoa, we transferred to a Eurostar, which was much more comfortable.  We met an American couple sitting in the seats adjacent to ours.  They'd been backpacking around the world for a few months and had several weeks of travel left on their itinerary.  I can't imagine living out of a backpack for that amount of time, so I give them and their brethren major props.    We arrived in Nice a few minutes past seven.  We bid adieu to Kendall and Jonathon with tentative plans to meet up in Paris later in the week.  Jay and I caught a taxi outside of the train station.  Our hotel was the Best Western Hotel Roosevelt.  After checking in, we set off on foot in search of dinner.  Ever since we said good-bye to my parents at a Chinese restaurant in Venice, I had been craving Chinese food.  After we failed to locate a proper Chinese restaurant after several minutes of walking, we settled on an Asian traiteur.  Big mistake.  We picked out fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, and a couple of eggrolls.  Needless to say, the food did not hit the spot.  After dinner, we headed towards the Promenade Anglais, the famous thoroughfare of the French Riviera.  We immediately spotted a McDonald's and since our dinner had been less than satisfying, we headed for the Golden Arches.     After we had satisfied our craving, we continued strolling the Promenade, making our way toward the Old Town.  We witnessed a man effortlessly maneuver his S Class Benz (which was tightly wedged in between two cars) from its parallel parked position.  A spectacle to behold for us; a routine maneuver for him.  We turned left when we reached the Cours Saleya, a popular hangout for locals and tourists alike.  Restaurants, bars, and shops line both sides of the pedestrian zone.  Since we'd already had dinner (twice) that evening, we checked out a few restaurants to have dinner the following evening.     The next morning, Jay finagled me into going out for a run with him.  Armed with our iPhones, we set out for the Promenade Anglais.  It was a beautiful sunny morning.  We were not the only ones out for some exercise.  We passed many jogging enthusiasts along the Promenade.  It was embarrassing for me to see women twice my age running at a faster pace than moi.  As per my usual, I gave Jay my blessing to go on ahead of me.    Still craving decent Chinese food, we decided to forgo breakfast to have an early lunch at a Chinese restaurant.  We settled on a tiny hole in the wall a few blocks away from our hotel.  An hour later, we were sated.  Craving satisfied.  With our bellies bloated, we searched for a place to purchase beach mats and towels.   Then we headed back toward the beach and found a spot at one of the public zones.  Along the beachfront, several bars and restaurants rent out chaise lounges, umbrellas, and towels by the hour.  These places can be cost prohibitive though.  We sunbathed for a couple of hours.  I napped, while Jay fiddled with his camera and iPhone.    The beach in Nice does not consist of soft sand, but rather smooth stones that make it very difficult to walk without exercising some caution.  Fortunately, the beach mats were thick enough to provide a reasonable amount of comfort.     Afterwards, we did a bit of shopping.  Two beloved pairs of black sandals (that had journeyed with me on multiple trips to Europe) had given out in Monterosso.  I had to select replacements.  I had noticed a Galeries Lafayette the night before and so we headed toward the venerable French department store.  Alas, the Nice outpost pales in comparison to the one in Paris and there was nothing to be found to suit my needs.  Finally, I settled on a pair of black leather Birkenstock thongs at a small shoe store near Place Massena.   Afterwards, we stopped by a bar for libations and had our first taste of pastis.  Yuck - had I known it tasted like black licorice (duh!), I would've ordered something else.  We rested for a few hours at the hotel before we set off for dinner.  Back at the Cours Saleya, we once again perused menus at several restaurants before we decided on moules et frites (mussels and French fries) at a restaurant aptly called Le Festival de la Moule.   This joint served all-you-can eat pots of mussels and fries.  The verdict - DE-LI-CIOUS!!!  The mussels and fries were a great combo, especially when you dip the fries into the mussel broth.   We've not been able to find anything comparable back here in SoCal.  The next day, we hopped on a bus for a short 20-minute ride to Eze, which is a small medieval hilltop village that is a popular destination for those vacationing in the French Riviera.   Many celebrities have homes in the area (Bono from U2, for one).  The streets and edifices are carefully maintained so that if you ignore the modern accoutrements, it is easy to feel as if you're traveling back in time.     One of Eze's main attractions is a garden at the top of the hill.  Jay refused to pay &euro;5 for entry into the Jardin de Exotique, so I went alone.  It should've been called the cactus garden.  Nevertheless, the views from that far up were stunning.  Afterwards, we wandered through the narrow streets and ducked in and out of shops.  The savory scents wafting from the multiple restaurants were tantalizing, but we decided to head back to Nice for lunch.   After we got back to Nice, we headed over to the Old Town to Rene Socca for some traditional Nicoise cuisine - socca, which is made from chickpea flour and formed into flat pancakes.     We sampled a few other dishes, which I washed down with a glass of kir.  We wandered around the back streets of the Old Town for an hour.  I discovered a bakery lined wall to wall with baskets full of cookies.  The almond macarons (not to be confused with American macaroons or the Parisian macarons) were yummy.  We did a bit of souvenir and pasalubong shopping and spent a few minutes checking out the interior of an old palace that was open to the public.  Interestingly enough, it housed an exhibit that paid homage to American jazz.  For dinner, we revisited the moules et frites place and it was just as delicious as the previous night.  We enjoyed our time in Nice and will, no doubt, journey here again.  After all, it is almost like Paris...without the Metro and museums...oh, and with a beach.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222053120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222053120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1222053120/tpod.html Thu, 08 Jan 2009 23:25:05 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

This was the day of Jay's departure from Paris.  The night before, I found it difficult to fight back my tears as we walked back to the apartment.  I half-joked that I should try to book an early flight home, but he reminded me that it was my decision to stick around for a few days without him and that it would be a good experience for me. We left our apartment at a quarter to seven to hop on the short Metro ride from Cite to Les Halles to catch the RER B to CDG.  We tried purchasing RER tickets on one of the machines but soon realized that (1) we did not have &euro;16 in coins and (2) none of our credit cards would work. Luckily, a clerk was working the ticket counter and I politely asked for two RER B tickets to CDG and one 1-day Mobilis.  He asked me whether I resided in Paris and I shook my head no.  He said I could not purchase the Mobilis.  I wasn't about to argue with him, so I asked for a carnet instead, even though we've purchased the Mobilis every single prior trip.The ride to CDG was uneventful.  Jay spent quite some time in line at the Delta counter. After his check-in, we grabbed a bite to eat at the Paul bakery.  And then it was off to the gates.  I didn't want to prolong our good-byes, so we embraced and kissed quickly.  As I walked away, I had to fight the urge to run back to him.  I didn't want him to worry about me more than he had to, which is what he would've done had I run back to him with tears running down my face, begging him not to leave me. With my chin up, I retraced my steps back to the train terminal. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3012.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3013-1.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3015.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Sunday Tai chi at Place DauphineThat weekend, an exhibition of vintage police vehicles occupied the massive space adjacent to Marche de Fleurs.  I checked it out for a few minutes before I headed back to Place Dauphine, where I spied a group of adults engaged in the art of tai chi.  At the apartment, I proceeded to climb back into bed. After a short nap, I tidied up around the apartment and planned my itinerary for the day.  I decided to hit the Marche Bastille and then make use of Chefhat's ticket for the Animal Expo at Parc Floral. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3019.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> <i>L'Eglise Saint-Germain l'AuxerroisOn the way to the Metro (Louvre Rivoli), I stopped at L'Eglise Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois, which I immediately recognized as the church where Eva Longoria and Tony Parker exchanged their vows on 7/7/07 (sorry, celebrity tabloids and gossip are my vices).<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3026.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Fromage at Bastille Market<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3029.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Paella - Delicious but full of shell pieces <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3032.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Les Chapeaux<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3038.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Doggy Slumbering Amongst the CarpetThe Bastille market was a sight to behold.  Rows and rows of fresh produce, fromage, wine, bread, and meat; vendors selling everything from carpet, toys, underwear, and kitchen utensils; and people milling about like busy bees. I got busy immediately...with a heaping serving of paella.  It was delicious, but too many shell remnants got in the way of being able to enjoy it completely.  One spanakopita, two egg rolls, and one Coca Cola Lite later, my stomach had reached its breaking point. It was time to get to the Animal Expo. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3046.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>The sign that caught my attention in the Metro tunnels<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3050.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Colorful Directions!I took the #1 line to its other terminus, Chateau de Vincennes.  The walk from the Metro stop to Parc Floral was longer than I'd anticipated.  The streets were a virtual parking lot, with cars rolling at a snail's pace, bumper to bumper.  At the entrance to the park, I imposed upon a group of fellow tourists and offered up one of my tickets, gratuit.  After a few seconds of disbelief, one of them said she'd be more than happy to pay for the ticket, but I simply handed her the ticket and told her to have a good time.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3084.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">As I made my way to the exhibition, I felt a few twinges of loneliness as I passed by lovers holding hands, couples pushing strollers, and friends sitting on picnic blankets on the grass.  I cheered up considerably as soon as I entered the exhibition area. How could you not with these furry creatures in sight?!<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3051.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Cute and Furry AlpacaI spent the next hour and a half wandering through the halls, checking out an array of pet products, from pet food to harnesses and doggie beds. The best part was visiting the different breeds represented at the exhibition. Of course, at the Yorkshire Terrier booth, I made it known that I had two Yorkies and showed off their photos on my iPhone.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3079.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Lala's French Twin<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3060.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>A Chinese Crested hairless pup atop its owner's shoulder<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3066.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>A Shy Schnauzer<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3073.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>I'd been trying to get this Lhasa Apso's attention for minutes!<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3074.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Coton du Tulear I was starting to feel a sore throat coming on. I then realized that I was surrounded by rows and rows of <i>chats (I'm allergic) and hightailed it out of there.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3080.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">Since I was in the area, I decided to visit Chateau des Vincennes. What a sight to behold. As I gazed down at the grass covering the floor of what used to be a massive moat, I could get a sense of the chateau's once formidable presence. The lines at every entrance were far too long to outweigh my interest in taking a closer look at the interiors, but Jay and I will definitely return another time.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3089.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3091.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">I was feeling exhausted at this point.  I made my way back to Ile de la Cite and rested my weary feet for a bit.  I set off toward the Right Bank and found myself strolling along Rue Rivoli.  I turned a corner and suddenly saw an interesting spectacle - policemen moving rather quickly in my direction, some on foot and some on rollerblades.  At first, I thought that they were conducting some sort of training drill, but no, it became readily apparent that they were searching for someone. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0396.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>The policemen on a manhunt on Rue Rivo<i>l<i>i <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0377.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">A few steps further, I realized that I was at Les Halles.  I must say that I found Forum Des Halles architecturally intriguing and can imagine it (and the Pompidou, come to think of it) as part of Tomorrowland at Disneyland. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0381.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">I found the Eglise de St. Eustache and immediately recognized it as the church I frequently misidentify as Notre Dame from afar. I stepped inside and sat down for several minutes during the mass, taking in the beauty of the sky-high ceilings and stained glass masterpieces. I continued on my pedestrian journey, finding my way back to Rue Rivoli. I wanted to stop by Angelina's again for a pot of chocolate, but alas, it was closed by the time I got there. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0384.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0">Although I had Montmartre on the itinerary for that night, I made a GTD (game-time decision) to visit the Arc de Triomphe, as I'd not been since our first trip to Paris.  Admission was free that night and just like our recent ascent to the gargoyles at Notre Dame, the climb to the top of the Arc did not seem as arduous as I'd remembered.  The new media displays were amazing and provided a captivating look into the history of the grand monument. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0407-1.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>Model of Arc de Triomphe at the newly renovated atticI picked up a few souvenirs at the gift shop (pens with pull-out Metro maps, anybody) and found the print of an old map of Paris that Jay wanted.  When I got to the top of the Arc, I made my way to the side facing the Tour Eiffel and immediately gasped - it-was-blue!!!  How could I have forgotten?! How could we have missed seeing this sight together?!  How could we have strolled along the Seine late at night without seeing a blue tip in the horizon? Big sigh. It was hard not to miss Jay at this very moment.<img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/mail.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/mail-1.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"><i>These photos are from my iPhone, which took better night photos than my Nikon from atop the Arc.After the Arc was a stop at Drugstore Publicis, where I picked up a few macarons and responded to the clerk's "<i>Arigato" with "<i>Bon soir, monsieur!" And then it was back to Place Dauphine, where I caught a late dinner at La Rose.  The waiter greeted me and said I looked tired (at least I heard "fatigue" in his sentence).  "<i>Oui, je suis fatigue."  (Yes, I am tired.)  I went on to explain, in my butchered French, that I was on vacation and that my husband had left for <i>Des Etats-Unit that morning. <img src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0420-1.jpg" alt="[image] " border="0"> After I inhaled my salad, steak tartare, and pommes frites, it was time to call it a night.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221932340/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221932340/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221932340/tpod.html Thu, 08 Jan 2009 23:08:43 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

This was Jay's last full day in Paris.  I decided to join him on his run this morning. Let me tell you how much I loathe running.  It is definitely not my preferred form of cardiovascular exercise.  At the gym, I avoid the treadmills like the plague and prefer instead to burn my calories on the elliptical machine or stationary bike. Jogging in Paris will cure you of any dislike, or hatred, for running. We parted ways at the Louvre pyramids, which was my idea.  Since I run at a snail's pace, I didn't want him to slow down <i>pour moi.  As I made my way through Jardin de Tuileries, I couldn't shake the grin off my face.  Jogging in such breathtakingly beautiful surroundings makes you forget that you are breathing laboriously and the part of your brain that associates pain with running is mysteriously disabled.  Besides, when you're up that early in the morning, you get to enjoy Paris without the crowds! <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/photo-4-1.jpg" border="0"><i>This picture taken with my iPhone during our early morning run.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/photo-7-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Another iPhone photo - trio of women practicing tai-chi at Jardin de Tuileries.As I progressed through the Champs Elysees toward the Arc de Triomphe, I noticed multiple groups of people making their way in the same direction.  A long line was forming outside of a building and the police had set up multiple roadblocks in the area.  After making inquiry with a couple of women, I discovered that the Palais de L'Elysees was open to the public that weekend, as part of the Patrimony Days.  My friend Linda would explain to me two days later that Patrimony is all about the public having access to sites usually closed off to the public, such as the Palais de L'Elysees, which is the official residence of the French president.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2964-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Arch de La DefenseAfter our run and another breakfast prepared by Jay, we hopped on the #1 and rode it to its terminus, La Defense.  The grand white arch was an impressive sight to see, but I must admit that we had a better time wandering around the shopping center adjacent to it.  Jay had not packed sufficiently for the cold weather in Paris, so he picked out a sweater and scarf at C&amp;A.  And then, he stepped on my big toe and chipped a significant portion of nail polish.  Sephora to the rescue!  Within minutes, I had purchased matching nail polish and nail clippers.  We headed to the bathroom where I managed to set things right.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2966-1.jpg" border="0">We found a Paul bakery and purchased several <i>boittes (boxes) of macarons for Jay to bring home the following day.  Macarons always make great pasalubong. An English woman behind me was having difficulty communicating her order to the staff, so Jay asked me to help her out.  Pointing at the woman behind me, I said, "<i>Elle voudrais deux sandwich - <i>une fromage et jambon et une fromage, s'il vous plait." As we headed toward the Metro station connected to the mall, I spied this little café, which reminded me of an expression that my Dad likes to use frequently, so I had to stop and take a photograph.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2967-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Is "blah blah" a French expression too?Our next stop was the 15th arrondissement to see Harriet, the American pastry chef, and her furkids, Diablo and Sophie, at Mon Bon Chien.  Of course Jay couldn't come home without some treats for our Yorkshire terrorists.  We got off the Metro at Commerce and made our way toward Rue Mademoiselle.  After several minutes, it became very apparent that we were walking in the wrong direction.  Unfortunately, I had not written the address for Mon Bon Chien in my Moleskine, but I did have a vague recollection that it in the teens or lower.  I approached a woman walking her Labrador and asked, "<i>S'il vous plait, madame, ou est le patisserie pour chiens - Mon Bon Chien?" "<i>Je ne sais pas," she answered before recognition set in and she pointed in the opposite direction. "<i>Merci!"<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3218.jpg" border="0"><i>Mon Bon ChienSoon enough, we found ourselves at 12 Rue Mademoiselle.  It was nice to see a familiar face(s) in Paris. Harriet gave me the good news that her papers had been renewed for another year and gave me a brief synopsis on how it all went down.  Paris and its<i> chiens are lucky that she gets to stay! The other great news was that Mon Bon Chien had been featured in the latest edition of Paris Match (the one with Pope Benedict on the cover).  We picked out some truffles and other assorted goodies for our furbabies and told Harriet about our plans to go to Parc Floral for the Animal Expo that was going on that weekend.  She was kind enough to give us two complimentary V.I.P. tickets.  Score!  We bid adieu with a promise that I would return on Tuesday for more goodies.Now that we had all four hands full of macarons and dog treats, we decided it was time to head back to the apartment before we had lunch.  I had planned to have tartines for lunch at the place next door to Poilane on Rue Cherche-Midi, but found myself craving Chinese food (again).  After dropping off our goods at the apartment, we headed down Pont Neuf and Rue Dauphine and soon found ourselves at a place called Wok. Craving satisfied, we wandered around Rue St . Andres Des Arts, where I found the cutest gift shop full of Pylone-esque items.  I could spend hours browsing around in there.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2975-1.jpg" border="0"><i>My favorite place to get crepes in Paris<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2978-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Crepe Especial!Jay wanted to revisit Shakespeare &amp; Company, so we made our way toward St. Michel. I stopped at my favorite crepe stand at Café Le Lutece and ordered a crepe especial.  It wasn't as good as I remembered it to be from last February, but Jay gobbled it up for me.  When we got to Shakespeare &amp; Company, we found that they were giving away free brand-new books, biographies of Willa Cather and Edith Wharton, written by Hermione Lee. Instinctively (free?!), I grabbed a copy right away but put it back down when I realized that others would enjoy the read more than I would.  After Jay had taken his photos, we walked back to the apartment to get ready for dinner with a fellow Paris-phile.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2980-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Giveaways at Shakespeare &amp; Co.I had phoned her the day before and she confirmed that she had made reservations at Chez Rene.  At a quarter to 7:00 pm, Jay and I left our apartment for a quick stop at La Tour Eiffel before dinner.  I'll admit that I was delusional to think that we would have time to see the Iron Lady and make it to Chez Rene by 8:00 pm.  With the long transfer at Montparnasse Bienvenue, we should've just turned around right then and there. Once we got off at Bir Hakeim, we walked a few minutes toward the Eiffel before I glanced at my iPhone (the battery on my watch had died in Italy) and realized that we had better hop back on the Metro. When we got off at Maubert-Mutualite, we were already 10 minutes late.  I was mortified.  I repeated the same mistake I'd made on Rue Mademoiselle by walking in the wrong direction on Blvd. St. Germaine.  After we realized we were walking away from Chez Rene rather than towards it, I started running and Jay wasn't too far behind me. By the time we finally arrived at Chez Rene, we were egregiously late. I entered the restaurant and immediately saw a petite woman sitting at a table across from the door. Her head was adorned with a beautiful black hat.  I greeted her and exchanged bisous and apologized profusely for our tardiness.  A few minutes later, I realized that I had also forgotten my manners when she leaned across the table and asked my husband, "So, what's your name?" Oh dear.All seemed to be forgiven by the time we ordered our meals (<i>coq au vin for the ladies and duck confit for Jay and goat cheese salads all around), with the assistance of our delightful companion. She had a captive audience as she regaled us with her tales of her life in Paris and her more recent escapades of the previous week.  And then the unforgiveable happened.  We'd ordered a bottle of Bordeaux and I took the liberty of refreshing Lilia's glass.  Apparently, my two kirs had impaired my coordination and a great deal of the precious wine ended up adorning the tablecloth.  She brushed it off as if it was nothing, but I'm sure she was wondering by then what she had gotten herself into.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3001-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Goat Cheese Salad<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3002-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Duck Confit<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3003-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Coq au Vin<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3004-1.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3005-1.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN3006-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Millefeuille I had to make amends. Since I had committed two crimes against her- being late and spilling wine, I decided that we would take care of dinner that night. The entrees and plats were delicious, the desserts (which we three shared) were superb, but the company was even better. <i>
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221842640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221842640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221842640/tpod.html Thu, 08 Jan 2009 18:21:38 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

Before the trip, Jay had expressed his desire to go jogging in Paris, specifically, along the Seine. Although I had accompanied him on a couple of runs in Nice along the Promenade Anglais, my plans for Friday morning involved sleeping in. After&nbsp;Jay returned from his run, I headed back to the supermarket&nbsp;Champion for some eggs and bacon. I found the bacon right away but conducted my own thorough search of the store for eggs&nbsp;before seeking assistance. I found an employee in the <i>pain (bread) aisle and asked, "<i>S'il vous plait, madame, ou est le eggs?" She responded, "<i>Desserts?" "<i>Non, merci," I replied as I walked away to attempt searching once again for the eggs. No luck. I sought her out again, this time with a piece of paper and a drawing of a row of eggs and sunny-side up eggs. She led me by the arm and planted me directly in front of several shelves of eggs. "<i>Oui, oui, merci! Comment diton?" "<i>Des oeufs," she said. You can see how I mistook "desserts" for "des oeufs," can't you?My next stop was a flower shop around the corner, where I picked up a colorful bouquet of flowers for &euro;4. Monsieur advised me to cut the stems and pull out the dead leaves before I placed the flowers in water (at least, that's what I understood from his gestures). Then it was off to a small café on Rue Dauphine for a couple cups of take-away coffee. As I crossed Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris, I felt pretty satisfied with myself for accomplishing all of my objectives that morning.By the time I had returned to the apartment, Jay had already emerged from the shower and was ready to cook me breakfast. Back at home, I'm usually the one cooking him breakfast, so it was a nice change. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2861-1.jpg" border="0">It was past noon when we finally set out for our first stop of the day, Notre Dame. Although there were sunny skies, it was chillier than I had anticipated. We immediately got in line for the climb to the top. Most of my waiting time was spent trying to fix an errant button on my jacket. Mind you, this called for being very creative and patient without a having a sewing kit handy. Not before long, we were heading up the long winding steps to the souvenir shop. After several minutes of browsing around, we were allowed to continue on to the next level. Both Jay and I commented on the fact that our perceived level of fatigue upon reaching our destination had definitely diminished since our first climb three years ago.&nbsp;Jay loves nothing more than to photograph the gargoyles, so he was in pure bliss for the next half hour. After he had taken every single gargoyle's photograph, we ascended to the top, which is something we had never done before. The view from the top is magnificent and we definitely exceeded the five minutes allotted.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2868.jpg" border="0">After we made our descent, we strolled through Square Jean XXIII and admired the cone-shaped shrubs and rows of perfectly manicured trees. A few days later, I will rest my tired feet here while enjoying my Berthillion ice cream cone. By this point, it was past 2:00 pm and I was ready to feed my belly. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2885.jpg" border="0">As we crossed Pont St. Louis, we had the pleasure of listening to a jazz band playing in the middle of the bridge. I tossed a few coins into their valise before we continued on toward our destination, L'As du Falafel.As we headed toward Rue de Rosiers, we came across an interesting sight, an imitation Pinkberry frozen yogurt shop on Rue Vielle du Temple called myberry. A quick peek inside the shop confirmed my suspicion. Everything from the minimalist white décor to the toppings selection screamed Pinkberry. I wasn't able to confirm whether or not they offer mochi, which would be good to know if ever I was jonesing for some fro yo in Paris.<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2888.jpg" border="0">At last, we found ourselves in front of L'As du Falafel. This was the first time we were trying the renowned falafel and we were not disappointed. Every single crunchy bite was delicious and when Jay fed me his last piece of falafel, I knew that he must really love me. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2891.jpg" border="0">The next item on my agenda for the day was dessert. Angelina, here we come. But first, we did a bit of window shopping along Rue Rivoli before hopping on the Metro at Hotel de Ville. We got off at Tuileries and a few minutes later, found ourselves in front of Angelina at 226 Rue Rivoli. We were seated immediately and after careful deliberation, we ordered the famous Chocolat Africain, iced coffee, a Saori, and a Fraisier. The hot chocolate was heavenly, like drinking a melted chocolate bar. My Saori was a Japanese cheesecake with flavors of lime and strawberry. It was light and paired well with the Chocolat Africain. Jay's Fraisier was essentially a strawberry shortcake, but was delicious all the same. I will definitely pay homage to Angelina when I go to Paris from now on. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2899.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2897-1.jpg" border="0">Afterwards, we crossed the street and entered the Jardin de Tuileries. The afternoon had given way to warmer temperatures and I found myself not needing my jacket. We observed a game of boules for a few minutes before I wandered off in search of a vacant chair. I found a couple of empty seats by the western fountain and planted my derriere in one of them and my feet in the other. I hadn't realized how tired I was and soon found myself in a state of slumber. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2902.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2913.jpg" border="0">Unfortunately, the warmth did not last too long and the jacket had to go back on. We made our way back to Ile de la Cite by crossing Pont des Arts and then doubling back at Pont Neuf. We browsed at a few of the <i>bouquinistes,&nbsp;used-book stalls,&nbsp;along the quai. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2921.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2929.jpg" border="0">As soon as we got back to our apartment, I phoned the restaurant Le Pre Verre to inquire about availability for dinner that night. "<i>Bonjour monsieur, s'il vous plait, avez-vous availability <i>pour diner c'est soir pour deux personnes, huit heur?" I grimaced, hoping he understood my request. He did. "<i>Oui, we have room in the downstairs." "<i>Merci, monsieur!"We strolled leisurely to Le Pre Verre an hour later, crossing through the infamous and always crowded Rue de la Huchette and stopping at Shakespeare &amp; Company, which was the one other thing that&nbsp;Jay wanted to see besides Notre Dame. As Jay did not have his trusty Canon SLR in his possession, he vowed to return the next day. <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2943.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2945.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2948.jpg" border="0"><img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2951.jpg" border="0">We found Le Pre Verre fairly easily, as it was a hop, skip, and jump away from the hotel we'd stayed at in February. We were 10 minutes early, but were immediately seated downstairs. The waiter propped the chalkboard menu on the table against the wall and we pondered our selections. This is what we ordered:<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2953.jpg" border="0"><i>Saumon marine au gingembre et aubergines fumees - Salmon with ginger and smoked eggplant<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2952.jpg" border="0"><i>Salade de figues, cul noir et quinoa - Fig, olive, and ham salad with quinoa<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2955.jpg" border="0"><i>Cochon de lait fondant et chou croquant aux epices - Suckling pig poached in spicy sauce and cabbage<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2954-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Caille confite et lard laque, patate douce sauce café - Quail roasted with caramelized bacon and coffee sauce <img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2957.jpg" border="0"><i>Truffade du chocolat noir, sauce sesame grille - Chocolate truffle and molasses ice cream<img alt="[image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/DSCN2956-1.jpg" border="0"><i>Poire pochee, caramel gingembre glace a l'olives - Poached pear with ginger caramel and olive ice creamEvery single morsel was delicious and it was, without a doubt, the best meal we'd had in Paris in four trips. It seemed that all of the diners downstairs were foreigners. Whether it was coincidental or purposeful, I could care less. The food was great and reasonably priced and we would definitely dine there again.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221740700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221740700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221740700/tpod.html Wed, 07 Jan 2009 13:36:22 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

&nbsp; This was our fourth trip to Paris and our second time this year. &nbsp;The train ride from Nice was uneventful. Somehow, we ended up being the youngest&nbsp;and the only American couple in our car.&nbsp;I whiled the time away perusing my Paris guidebooks and sketching out arough itinerary. &nbsp;Jay's only request&nbsp;was a visit with his beloved gargoyles at Notre Dame. &nbsp;To my surprise, we pulled into Gare du Nord an hour before I&nbsp;had anticipated.&nbsp; Chalk it up to&nbsp;not properly converting 15:45 to 3:45 pm.&nbsp;Soon enough, we were on the Metro, bound for the Cite stop on the #4&nbsp;route.&nbsp; Luckily, we were able tocatch an elevator after disembarking at Cite; otherwise, we would've had to lug&nbsp;our bags up those long Cite steps. As soon as we got to the surface, right next to the&nbsp;prefecture, a wide smile broke across my face and I said to Jay, "Yay, we're&nbsp;back in Paris again!&nbsp; It feels like&nbsp;it was just yesterday that we were here." Jay replied, "It's because we were."&nbsp; Oh yeah. &nbsp;I must admit to being a little disoriented, so I broke out&nbsp;my Moleskine map to figure out how to get to Place Dauphine.&nbsp; After a few missteps, we were on the&nbsp;right track.&nbsp; Not before too long,&nbsp;we were turning the corner at the Palais du Justice. &nbsp; I don't think that Jay had realized exactly where we were&nbsp;staying and could hardly contain his excitement as we approached our apartment&nbsp;building at 17 Place Dauphine.&nbsp; The&nbsp;owner had provided me with the code to get into the building, but a kind&nbsp;stranger at the restaurant below, Le Caveau du Palais, was nice enough to punch&nbsp;in the code for us as I was searching for it in my Moleskine.We knew that there was no lift, but had not anticipated a&nbsp;narrow spiral staircase. &nbsp;It was a&nbsp;little tricky to navigate with our luggage. &nbsp;The apartment appeared exactly as advertised&nbsp;online. &nbsp;The high ceiling made itfeel bigger than 25 m2. The&nbsp;exposed wood beams were an interesting feature of the apartment and I foundmyself wondering how many generations of people had lived beneath these beams. &nbsp; &nbsp;We set off in search of a grocery store to stock up on food&nbsp;supplies.&nbsp; I'd also spied a&nbsp;beautiful glass vase that was just asking to be filled with flowers.&nbsp; However, after a quick stroll through&nbsp;the flower market adjacent to the Cite Metro stop, it was apparent that the&nbsp;main items for sale were household plants and not the flowers that you arrange&nbsp;into a bouquet.&nbsp; We found a small grocer off of Rue Sebastapol and picked up&nbsp;a bottle of wine, water, Coke Light, and a small jar of Nutella.&nbsp;&nbsp; After a few "Ou est le marche de fleurs?" ("Where is the flower market?") answered by shoulder shrugs and "Je ne&nbsp;sais pas," ("I don't know") we headed back to the apartment. &nbsp;The telephone rang and it was the owner.&nbsp; We were supposed to rendezvous at 7:00pm but he indicated that he wouldn't get off of work (he's a doctor) until 8:00&nbsp;pm and would it be okay to just meet later that night or tomorrow morning?&nbsp; We agreed that he would meet us at 9:30&nbsp;pm after we had eaten dinner and he said he'd wait for us if we were running alittle late.&nbsp; &nbsp; Plans for dinner that evening involved Chartier.&nbsp;&nbsp;This is a restaurant that you will find listed in many travel guides; however many self-professed experts turn their nose down on it. &nbsp; I wanted to see what the fuss (on both&nbsp;sides) was all about.&nbsp; We hopped&nbsp;back on the Metro and resurfaced at the Grands Blvds station.&nbsp; After a 15-minute wait in line, we were seated at a table&nbsp;occupied by another couple.&nbsp; The&nbsp;restaurant is huge and it was a packed house, which I am to understand is not&nbsp;unusual.&nbsp; The couple seated next to&nbsp;us asked us where we were from and what we do for a living, which by that part&nbsp;of the trip was no longer shocking.&nbsp;(Over the course of the trip, we were asked that question no less thanfive times, which was unprecedented.) &nbsp;&nbsp; Although Jay and I ordered two different chicken dishes, we&nbsp;both ended up with rotisserie chicken and frites with a side of haricots verts (green beans).&nbsp; We realized that we had simply ordered&nbsp;different pieces of poulet (chicken).&nbsp; The food was great, but anything with&nbsp;fries always tastes good to me.&nbsp;The damage, including our drinks (a glass of kir and a bottle of white&nbsp;wine), was only &euro;32.&nbsp; After meeting up with Giancarlo, the owner of the apartment, we headed&nbsp;to the Champion on Rue de Seine and picked up fixings for a midnight snack -cheese, salami, and bread.&nbsp; This&nbsp;was our first real foray into a <i>supermarche and it was difficult not to linger&nbsp;too long in each aisle.&nbsp; I did find&nbsp;myself checking out the dog food and slipped a couple cans of Cesar into my&nbsp;basket. &nbsp;The French cans of Cesar are much bigger than the ones in the U.S.&nbsp; We enjoyed our indoor picnic/midnight snack before calling it a night.<img alt=" [image] " src="http://i407.photobucket.com/albums/pp160/bagaton/IMG_0333-1.jpg" border="0">
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221314520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221314520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221314520/tpod.html Tue, 02 Dec 2008 01:22:15 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Monterosso, Italian Riviera, Italy

After our experience in Milan, Monterosso is like a breath of fresh air.  It is one of the five villages that make up Cinque Terre, which is located in the Italian Riviera on the West coast of Italy.  Monterosso is the village furthest to the north with Vernazza, Corniglia, Manorola, and Riomaggiore (the southern-most village) making up the rest of Cinque Terre.  What draws travelers to this area (besides the great food and breathtaking scenery) are the hiking trails between Monterosso and Riomaggiore.  We arrived in Monterosso in the early evening.  From the train station, it was a short walk through a tunnel and across the town square to get to our hotel, the Albergo Marina.   We had worked up an appetite, so we set off for dinner.  Although Monterosso is a small town, there was no shortage of restaurants.  We decided to dine at Ristorante Al Pozzo.  I don't remember what I ate, but Jay's dish was unbelievably delicious.  It was (yet another) variation of frutti di mare.  After dinner, we visited a wine shop that was located directly across from Al Pozzo.  The wine shop is owned by Kenalyn, a Filipina, who has lived in Italy for 22 years.  We chatted with her for a bit and sampled some wine, liquor, and pesto. We woke up early the next morning as it was the day of our big hike through Cinque Terre.  The hotel provides a wonderful breakfast feast every morning.  We fueled up on eggs, croissants, orange juice, and cappuccinos.   And then we were off to the train station to purchase our Cinque Terre cards, which are required to gain access to the trails.  The sun was out and the weather was gorgeous.  The trail, from Monterosso to Vernazza, would be the longest and most difficult, as much of it is uphill.   We planned to take the train back to Monterosso once we arrived at the last village, Riomaggiore.The trails are well maintained with plenty of signs leading you in the right direction.  Throughout the day, we shared the trails with fellow Americans, Australians, Germans (easily identifiable with their hiking poles), Spaniards, and other citizens of the world.   As we made our way to Vernazza, every so often we would turn to see Monterosso getting smaller in the distance.   Two hours after we started our journey, we arrived at Vernazza, which is regarded by many as the most beautiful town in Cinque Terre.   In Vernazza, we snapped photos of a little pizzeria and found the aroma too tantalizing to resist.   We found a bench near the piazza and just watched the world unfold before us as we ate.  The piazza was buzzing with locals and tourists alike.   After we polished off our pizza, we continued on our journey.  Our next stop was Corniglia.   This leg would take an hour and a half.  The trails weren't as arduous as before, but we still worked up a sweat so that by the time we got to Corniglia, it was time for a hearty lunch.   We found an outdoor restaurant that looked promising.  We ordered a salad, calamari (of course), and a seafood risotto.  A few minutes into our salad, the sky opened up and the rain came down on us.  While the other diners decided to tough it out under the cafe umbrellas, Jay and I (with the help of our waiter) picked up our glasses of wine and ran indoors.  Shortly after, another couple followed suit.  We enjoyed the rest of our meal.   The seafood risotto was divine.  Thankfully, the rain stopped as abruptly as it had started.  Before we set out for Manarola, I made a stop for gelato.   We ran into an Australian we had had seen on the trails.  "Taking a break?"  I asked. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged his shoulders and replied, "She's doing some shopping," referring to his significant other.  Then we were off to Manarola.  The road to Manarola was a breeze compared to the last two legs.  Some parts of the trail were muddy due to the recent rainfall and we had to hop over a few puddles.  There was a suspension bridge we had to cross, which was fun.  As we got closer to Manarola, we (and several other fellow travelers) spied a couple several feet below us sunbathing nude (well, almost nude).   It turns out that the beach below is very popular for those favoring birthday suits over bathing suits.  The main thoroughfare in Manarola is a wide and open walkway with restaurants and shops lining both sides.   While Jay played around with his camera, I popped in and out of a few shops for souvenirs.  At the piazza, I saw a poster entirely in Italian that had a photograph of young American woman.  From what I could tell, it was advertising some sort of memorial for the woman.  When I got home, I googled her and found out that she had visited Cinque Terre on her honeymoon.  She and her husband had gone down to the beach and she was swept away by a massive wave as she was posing for a photograph while standing on a huge rock.   The photograph that is featured on the poster is the actual photograph that was taken seconds before her death.  May she rest in peace.The last leg of our Cinque Terre hike was a short 15 minute walk to Riomaggiore.  This trail is called Via Dell'Amore (Lover's Walk).   Throughout this trail, you'll find lots of graffiti, initials etched in benches, and padlocks fastened to fences.  Apparently, it's the in thing for young lovers to fix a padlock to a fence or bench as an expression of their love for each other.  We arrived at Riomaggiore shortly after 5:00 pm.  While I was perfectly happy to rest my feet at the train station, Jay insisted on dragging me to the summit, which made me angry for a few minutes.  At the top, we found a small church, where I lit a candle for my grandfather.  I realized that it was 8:00 in the morning back in California, so I phoned home to check in with the parental units since they'd arrived home the day before.  My mom reported that all was well and that Squirt and Lala had been very happy to see them.  We walked back down into town and caught a train back to Monterosso.  We noticed several lunch-size paper bags weighed down with rice with a candle in the center lining both ends of the streets.   One of the shopkeepers explained that there would be a procession in honor of Madonna (Mary, Mother of Jesus, not the pop star).   Jay and I decided to revisit Ristorante Al Pozzo for the delicious seafood pasta for our last dinner in Monterosso.  We sat outside so that we could watch the procession.   A few minutes past nine, the procession began with the villagers leading the way.  They were followed by a small band and then the clergy and finally a representation of the Madonna.   After dinner, Jay and I visited Kenalyn's wine shop.  She had noticed the wine we were drinking during dinner, but unfortunately she was out of stock of that particular bottle.  We picked up several bottles of wine and jars of pesto for pasalubong.  I unabashedly asked whether there was a Filipino discount.  She told me to pick out anything I wanted from the store and it would be free.  I settled on a big jar of pesto.  We said our good-byes and promised to return someday.The next morning, we packed our bags and set out early to catch a boat.  We wanted to see the towns from a different perspective, by sea.  We picked out seats on the top deck and within a few minutes at sea, the rain started falling again.   Instead of descending downstairs to the covered seating area, we ducked under our umbrella and enjoyed the scenery.  
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221288300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221288300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221288300/tpod.html Fri, 28 Nov 2008 03:18:34 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Venice, Veneto, Italy

We fell in love with Venice during our first trip to Italy last year, so when my parents started talking about traveling to Italy this year, I volunteered to show them around Venice.  We arrived at Marco Polo Airport around noon and were out the doors in less than 10 minutes since we didn't have to wait around for check-in luggage. Last year we splurged on a water taxi, but this time around, we decided to take the bus into the city.        We disembarked at Piazalle Roma, the bus terminal in Venice, and dragged our luggage around for a bit looking for the nearest vaporetto station.  Vaporettos are the public water buses that transport people along the Grand Canal, Venice's main waterway.   If you can snag a seat outside in the front or rear of the boat, you've got the best view for gazing out into the magnificent facades lining the Grand Canal.  We hopped aboard a crowded vaporetto and made our way to our hotel, Hotel Ca' Pozzo.        It felt amazing to be back in Venice and we were excited to be back on the Grand Canal.  We found our hotel easily enough as it was just a short walk from the vaporetto stop.  Fortunately, our room was ready when we arrived and we were pretty pleased with it.  After showers and a change of clothing, we were out the door.  The first item on my agenda purchasing insect repellent.  We found a general store fairly quickly and with a few hand gestures and basic phrases, I was able to convey to the young woman manning the store what I was looking for.  They actually had a few bottles right next to the cash register, so it must be a frequently-requested item.        We sat down at one of the first restaurants we came across, which is never a good idea, but we were famished. Our only specification was that the menu have cuttlefish spaghetti, <i>spaghetti al nero seppia, which is what we'd been craving all year since our last visit to Venice.   Since a quick glance at the menu confirmed that they did indeed serve this delicious dish, there was no need to go any further.        After lunch, we hit the ATM for the first of many withdrawals.  Then, it was time to have some gelato.  We decided to just walk around and do a bit of self-exploration.  My parents would be arriving at the train station around 6:00 pm, so we had a few hours to kill.  We ended up in the Ghetto, which was the area where the Jews were forced to live in 1516.   Because their boundaries were restricted, the Jews had no choice but to build skyward, which is why you see such tall buildings in the Ghetto.        We arrived at St. Lucia train station a few minutes before my parents' train was due to arrive.  However, we ended up waiting another 30-40 minutes before their train actually arrived.  I got a big kick out of seeing them disembark from their train.  Since they had left for Rome the Saturday before, I had been acting like a nervous parent, calling them at their hotel and on my dad's cell phone to check up on them at all hours of the day.  I am so proud of them for having the courage to step outside of their comfort zone and embarking on a journey like this.  Watching them walk toward us with their luggage in tow is a memory I will never forget.        My parents' hotel, Hotel Abbazia, was right around the corner from the train station.  It is a converted monastery with spacious rooms.  We escorted them to their hotel and agreed to meet in a couple of hours for dinner.  Jay and I decided to do some further exploration in the San Polo and Santa Croce siesteres.  Once again, we allowed ourselves to get lost in the maze of alleys that is Venice.     Dinner was a wasted meal at a tourist trap on the Fondamenta Venier.  The service was awful and we had to ask for the check ("<i>Il conto, per favore!") no less than three times.  It really wasn't what I had in mind for my parents' first dinner in Venice.  On the bright side, my mom did enjoy her first plate of cuttlefish spaghetti and we had a great view of the Canale di Cannaregio.        The next morning, we all headed to San Marco for a tour of the basilica and a walking tour of Venice.  But first, we decided to visit the Campanile for a panoramic view of the city.  On the vaporetto ride to St. Mark's, my mom and dad marveled at the palazzos adorning both sides of the Canal Grande.  I felt as if I was looking at Venice for the first time through their eyes.   The view from the Campanile was amazing, as to be expected.       We met our tour group at the Giardenetti Reali (Royal Garden).  The tour guide was a native of Venice and she kept us captivated during the entire three hours.  We are all quite famished after the tour.  We decided to have lunch at a pizza joint called (strangely enough) Bora Bora.   The restaurant did indeed feature Hawaiian decor, but there were no Polynesian dishes to be found on the menu.   We ordered a couple of pizzas and calamari, of course. The pizza hit the spot.        After lunch, we set off on a shopping expedition.  My dad picked up several ties for his colleagues.  We visited the likes of Louis Vuitton, Fendi, Gucci, et. al.  After a couple of hours, we were all feeling tired and decided to rest at our respective hotels before our late afternoon gondola ride and dinner.  I had made dinner reservations at the popular Taverna San Trovaso.        The gondola ride was a memorable experience.  Our gondolier took us through back waterways in Dorsudoro before steering us out into the Canal Grande.  He too was a native Venetian son and was generous with his story-telling and factoid-sharing.  He revealed that gondolas typically cost around &euro;45,000 and decorating (aka pimping your ride) is an additional &euro;30,000!  Gondoliers must obtain a license before they can officially ply the trade and it is a process years in the making. Our guy was nice enough to stop several times to take our photo.            We had worked up an appetite by the time we got the restaurant, Taverna San Traveso.   Jay and I both ordered (surprise!) <i>spaghetti al nero di seppia and my dad ordered <i>pasta alla scoglia.  His dish, which was basically delicious frutti di mare on crack, was so delectable that Jay and I returned the next night for our own plates of it.  Poor dad, we all descended upon his plate like vultures.    Since we were all slightly tipsy after dinner, we headed to the famous Harry's Bar.   Jay and I have always been curious about what the peach bellinis, at &euro;20 a pop, tasted like.  The place was small and crowded and overrun with fellow tourists.  We snagged seats at the bar and proceeded to order a round of bellinis.  The verdict:  Overrated.          On our final full day in Venice, while my parents were off on a tour of the Doge's Palace, Jay and I visited Ca' D'Oro (House of Gold).  While the art did not captivate us, the views of the Grande Canal from the third and fourth floor balconies were spectacular. Besides, entrance is free.         We met my parents at the Royal Garden and set off for lunch.  I wanted to try a restaurant called Trattoria Alla Rivetta, which is very popular with the gondoliers.  We were seated in the back room, with other tourists of varying nationalities, whilst the gondoliers had the privilege of dining at the front of the restaurant.  Mom ordered lasagna, Dad has some fish dish, and can't remember what Jay and I had.  After lunch, we left my parents to their own devices for a couple of hours while we wandered around a bit.  We stopped at several mask shops as I wanted to bring home a Venetian mask for myself.         Around 2:00 pm, we connected with my parental units once again to embark upon on our island tour of Murano, Burano, and Torcello.  While Murano is known for its glass, Burano is known for its lace and its bright rainbow-colored buildings.  Torcello is known as the birthplace of Venice.  Last year, Jay and I journeyed to Burano, which was one of the highlights of our visit to Venice, but we'd not had the opportunity to check out Murano and Torcello.       Murano was a bit of a letdown.  We were shepherded off the boat and into a big warehouse where we watched an artisan ply his craft by transforming a big blob of transparent goop into a glass stallion figurine.  Then, we were lead into the showroom filled from top to bottom with glass - glass paperweights, glass vases, glass chandeliers, glass candlestick holders, and so on.  We hurried through and headed back to the boat, where we were the first to board.        It was on to Burano.  By the time we landed at Burano, a steady rainfall had descended upon us.  We ran to the nearest shop to purchase umbrellas and a "raincoat" for Jay.  Although the rain was disappointing, I could tell that my parents were still wowed by the mini canals and the rows of houses painted in all of the colors found in a Crayola box.          Our last stop was Torcello, where Venice was born.  The rain had stopped when we disembarked from the boat.  Torcello ended being quite a surprise.  We did not expect to find anything noteworthy as all of the guidebooks only make mention of a church as the island's main attraction.     Behind the church lies the remains of a garden, complete with weathered statues and aging vines.  Jay and I snapped away, comparing photos now and then as if we were in a competition.  Of course, my photos were better.    We ran back to the loading dock when we realized it was getting close to our departure.  We were the last ones on the boat.       My mom and dad were exhausted when we got back to St. Mark's.  Since they would be leaving for home the next morning, they decided to grab dinner close to their hotel.  (Their last meal in Venice was dinner at a Chinese restaurant.)  Meanwhile, Jay and had been jonesing for the <i>pasta alla scoglia that my dad had the night before, so it was back to Taverna San Trovaso for us.        The four of us shared one last vaporetto ride back to our hotels.  As we approached the Rialto Bridge, I noticed a rainbow softly glowing over the horizon.  It was simply beautiful.    
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221459480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221459480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/berniandjay/1/1221459480/tpod.html Fri, 28 Nov 2008 01:57:44 -0500 Jay & Berni's European Adventure 2008

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Milan, Lombardy, Italy

Our next stop on our adventure was Monterosso, Italy, gateway to Cinque Terre (The Five Lands), formerly a hidden jewel of the Italian Riviera (until Rick Steves made it a popular destination).  We had decided early on in the preliminary planning stages of our trip to stop at Milan or Pisa en route to Monterosso from Venice.  In the end, Milan won out as we had learned that the famous leaning tower of Pisa would be partially covered with scaffolding during our visit.  A train strike delayed our arrival in Milan.  Consequently, our three-hour stop-over was now only one hour and we would not have any time to explore the city.  We decided to exchange our tickets for a later departure, which required waiting in a long line at the ticket window.  I stood in line, while Jay stood guard over our bags a few feet away.  When I got close to the front of the line, I got into an altercation with an Italian man.  Apparently, he needed to catch a train that was leaving fairly shortly and everyone in the back of line had allowed him to cut in front of them.  However, by the time he got to the front of the line, the three parties in front of me had denied him the same courtesy, so he stood in front of me.  In English, I told him that I didn't think so and reclaimed my rightful spot in line.  I got a mouthful of Italian from him.  After I had made my ticket purchase, he mouthed off again and I flipped him the bird.  (I know - very classy of me.)  Suddenly, Jay rushed towards the man, which startled him since he had no idea that I had company with me.  I had to forcibly restrain Jay and lead him away from the ticket line.  It's not really one of my goals in life to have to bail Jay out of jail in a foreign country.  After we had stored our luggage, we headed outside where it was pouring rain.  Luckily, the Metro station is just a few feet away.  A few stops later, we were at the Duomo di Milano (Cathedral of Milan).  Its facade is gorgeous and perhaps better enjoyed on a sunny day and without the partial scaffolding (covered in big bold Espirit ads) adorning its sides.  As we admired the Duomo, we were approached by no less than three guys trying to push birdseed (to feed the pigeons) and string bracelets on us within a time span of a few minutes.   Now, we've been to our fair share of tourist attractions in Europe and street peddlers come with the territory, but we'd never been inundated like this. As we walked through the main thoroughfare, we spotted a large group of adolescents dressed in bright retro gear.  This was a perfect photo opportunity for Jay.  When the teens saw Jay with his camera, they shouted, "Arigato! You take our picture?"  "He's not Japanese.  We're American," I said.  "I'm Irish," was the reply back, in an Italian accent.  Our first stop was Luini Panzerotti.  I had wanted to try a panzerotto ever since I saw Luini Panzerotti featured on an episode of Samantha Brown (ugh, I hate her) in Milan.  The bakery is famous for its fried stuffed panzerotti.   What is a panzerotto?  The best way I can describe it is that it's shaped sort of like an empanada but bigger and fatter and chewier.  You can have a sweet panzerotto stuffed with fruit like fig and apple or a savory one (tomato and cheese is the most popular combination).   It was no surprise that the young lady helping us behind the counter was Filipina.  There are Filipinos all over Italy, which is what we discovered during our trip last year.  At our hotel in Venice, we befriended a couple of sisters from Cavite.  In Rome, my parents were given an impromptu tour of the city by a Filipina they'd met on the street, who even showed them how to use the Metro!    After lunch, we headed back to the Duomo and entered the cathedral, where we spent a few minutes admiring the interior.  The main attraction of the Duomo is actually its rooftops.  We purchased tickets for the lift and were on top of the Duomo within minutes.  Unfortunately, the rain had started back up again and it was coming down hard.  I was soaked by the time Jay was finished taking his photographs.   Despite all of the rain, we were able to appreciate the magnificence of the spires and flying buttresses.Back on the ground, we crossed the street to get to the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele.  This is a famous shopping mall in Milan.  I was in search of socks to cover my cold feet.   I found a pair of black socks at an upscale department store and immediately slipped them over my feet.  I did not care that I was wearing sandals and socks together.  Never mind that I was in the fashion capital of the world!    Even though we did not have the most pleasant experience during our first visit to Milan, we would definitely come back again...preferably on a sunny day!
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