Now we know, says Rich, that we could never win The Amazing Race. Okay, so we checked out of the hotel in good time, but we had to negotiate the Metro and the special Airport Bus before we could checkin for our flight. Out the door we went, carrying our backpacks, rolling our suitcases, spirits positive if not quite high. I had had a bit of a problem the first day getting myself and the suitcase through the appropriate turnstile. In fact, i ended up crawling unceremoniously under the barrier, which our friend He Da said he wouldn't recommend. So this time we thought we had figured out the problem, but whatever we figured out must have been wrong. There I was again, stuck between the turnstyle and the not so swinging door. People kept trying to help me, but nothing with budge until finally Rich gave a mighty smack and the door swung to and I was released.
Luckily, the Metro was not crowded because we took up quite a lot of space. Also, it can sometimes be very difficult to get out at one's stop when the aisles are packed with people. Not today. We did fine until we reached the bus stop and Rich discovered that the ticket machine did not respond well to him. Fortunately, the bus driver also sold tickets. Then we settled in for the rather long ride to the airport. As we neared the airport, it became obvious that the bus was going to make several stops, and we suddenly realized that we did not know which stop was ours. A young girl directed us to a chart on the wall that listed the airlines and their terminals, but the print was so small that it might have been written in Chinese for all the good it did us. Finally, Rich asked the bus driver, who by this time was aware that we were clueless about many things, and we got off at Terminal 1, US Air.
The checkin was fine and well-organized. One interesting thing was that they had security in the area of each gate. That provided those long lines that we had experienced in America. Another thing that I had forgotten to mention on our first encounter with the airport was that instead of moving escalators, there were moving ramps. They moved up/they moved down. Again, just as in the large Metro station of two days ago, there were several levels of moving ramps all heading in different directions like covered tubes, the kind they sometimes have in a bank to send messages from the tellers at the window to somewhere in the great unknown.
We were seated on time and left on time, and arrived on time in Philadelphia and landed on time -- with no circling the airport. Maybe they don't fool around with the international flights. I was very happy. The dinner was adequate, even a little tasty; I watched two movies, True Grit and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Rich read and dozed. We had asked no one to pick us up at the airport, so we had decided to take the train home. Since it was a holiday schedule for Memorial Day, we had a bit of a wait to make our connection, but the time passed pretty quickly. I had hoped that our neighbor would be able to meet us at the local train station, but I could not connect with her by telephone. So there we were, walking in the heat and rolling our suitcases up a hill. I had no sooner said to myself, "Well, Lord, I guess we don't need any help or You would have provided it" when lo and behold a lovely lady and her daughter asked if we would like a ride. Yippee!! We were very thankful, and now are happy to be home for real. Although now our trip to Paris is behind us; we can't anticipate it any more. We can, though, give thanks.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
ericksonsinchina - day 9
Another beautiful sunny day, not too hot, not too cold. Just like Baby Bear's porridge, it was just right. We had our last breakfast at McDonald's; we couldn't be snobby because the price was right and the coffee was reasonably good. Then we bought our sandwiches for the day at the Monoprix, our customary stop, and continued on to church. It is a lovely church. The solid group of 20 somethings provided some special music today, and we sang "Tout a toi," a praise song we had enjoyed last week. I guess Pastor Pablo is preaching through Isaiah; at least, that is where he was last week and this week. This week was Isaiah 4. He seems to like to give a broad range of interpretations of a passage, citing the "commentators," but eventually he gets down to his idea. In this case, Jesus is the Messiah. He came and is coming and we had better be ready when the time comes. But we need not worry because Christ has provided us with our great salvation and will protect us always. Eve, the pastor's wife, had remembered Rich's birthday and was going to serve him birthday cake, but we couldn't stay for the lunch today. What a sweet lady.
We arrived about two hours later than usual at Roland Garros, but it didn't matter. The only live matches available for seeing today were doubles and some junior level players. We watched American Scott Lipsky in two doubles matches, one men's and the other mixed. In both cases, he was he was on the winning team. His mixed doubles partner, Mlle. Delacroix, wore a different outfit than she had the other day, but she still had flouncy pleats in the back. Maybe they bring her luck. I thought the other mixed doubles team deserved to win because they fought back so hard, but the score on the board tells the tale.
We also watched a junior girls’ match. Both players seemed skilled and evenly matched. The winner was a Sharapova. A relation of THE Sharapova? We don’t know. Those of us who did not have the expensive grandstand tickets could still enjoy the big matches via huge outdoor screens. We watched the end of a match between Fognini (whom we had seen the other day and I had wondered if he would win a set – HA!) and Montanes. Both are unseeded players. The match seesawed back and forth and went into what passes for tennis overtime. Finally, Fognini managed to win two games in a row to win 10-8. He must be pretty excited to be in the quarter finals. Of course, he has to play “on a roll” Djokovic. The other tense match was a ladies’ duel between Schiavone, last year’s winner, and Jankovic. It was another marathon, but eventually Schiavone eked out the victory. She was VERY happy.
We started our stroll home around 6:30, rather earlier than usual. Bought a baguette on the way. Took a rest. Went one more time to the Grec restaurant. Came home and packed. Tomorrow we will be up early, trying to navigate the subway system and catch the bus to the airport. America here we come. Our Paris vacation was wonderful.
We arrived about two hours later than usual at Roland Garros, but it didn't matter. The only live matches available for seeing today were doubles and some junior level players. We watched American Scott Lipsky in two doubles matches, one men's and the other mixed. In both cases, he was he was on the winning team. His mixed doubles partner, Mlle. Delacroix, wore a different outfit than she had the other day, but she still had flouncy pleats in the back. Maybe they bring her luck. I thought the other mixed doubles team deserved to win because they fought back so hard, but the score on the board tells the tale.
We also watched a junior girls’ match. Both players seemed skilled and evenly matched. The winner was a Sharapova. A relation of THE Sharapova? We don’t know. Those of us who did not have the expensive grandstand tickets could still enjoy the big matches via huge outdoor screens. We watched the end of a match between Fognini (whom we had seen the other day and I had wondered if he would win a set – HA!) and Montanes. Both are unseeded players. The match seesawed back and forth and went into what passes for tennis overtime. Finally, Fognini managed to win two games in a row to win 10-8. He must be pretty excited to be in the quarter finals. Of course, he has to play “on a roll” Djokovic. The other tense match was a ladies’ duel between Schiavone, last year’s winner, and Jankovic. It was another marathon, but eventually Schiavone eked out the victory. She was VERY happy.
We started our stroll home around 6:30, rather earlier than usual. Bought a baguette on the way. Took a rest. Went one more time to the Grec restaurant. Came home and packed. Tomorrow we will be up early, trying to navigate the subway system and catch the bus to the airport. America here we come. Our Paris vacation was wonderful.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
ericksonsinparis - Day 8
Bonjour. This is the first time that I am writing the blog a day late. We didn't get to the hotel until after eleven last night; that was too late for my brain to function clearly (assuming, of course, that it does sometime:) As I had said, it was Rich's birthday and a non-tennis day, so he got to choose his activities -- with a few requests from me. We started with breakfast at the restaurant where we had had our omelets. The waiter remembered us and asked if we wanted another omelet, but this time we went for the "formula" which was hot beverage, croissant, half a baguette, butter, jelly and two eggs. I was happy that we had had a good breakfast later on when we put some not so substantial things in our stomachs.
Next we were off to the Tullieries via the metro. Since this was our second trip, that was familiar. Our target this time was a small art museum called Musee de l’ Orangerie. The Tullieries gardens were not as beautiful as I had remembered, but they seem to be much enjoyed, especially on a weekend. We took a little time to sit in the sun and read. Then we strolled on to the museum.
This museum is noted for the private collection of a Parisian named Paul Guillaume and for a spectacular gift from Monet of two rooms in the round with murals of his famous water lilies. They are to depict his garden from sunrise to sunset. He intended the rooms to be a place for the people of Paris to find some peace and refreshment, especially after the war. Silence is requested when enjoying the rooms. They are amazing.
The rest of the museum is devoted to Guillaume’s taste in art. We saw all of our favorite impressionists and made the acquaintance of two artists new to us. One is Chaim Soutine. The description calls his works “strong and tormented,” but that seems a bit extreme. We watched a film about him first, which we could not understand, but which offered a helpful perspective –the film would show a real scene or person and then superimpose Soutine’s depiction. It gave a good vision of his style. Our favorite was of a large tree “blowing in the wind.” It was very powerful and created a remembrance of the tornadoes that have been devastating our country.
The second artist was Gino Severini. His career spanned about 40 years and the interesting thing about him was that he painted in so many different styles. He started with pointillism, then something called futurism, then cubism, then classicism, and then finally he returned to Italy and painted very lovely and recognizable scenes and people from his homeland. He truly did it all and seems to have enjoyed it.
Leaving the museum, we were off to 226 Rue de Rivoli, the site of Angelina’s chocolate, recommended by a friend, raved about on the web, the place to find the best hot cup of chocolate in the world, peutetre. Well, we haven’t had any better, that’s for sure. We were served cups, a pitcher of chocolate, a small container of whipped cream. It was milk chocolate and seemed to be like chocolate pudding that had not yet set, rich and creamy. We also ordered a pastry called mont blanc, that came highly recommended. It was the size of a huge muffin with about two inches of creamy chocolate, over a thinner layer of whipped cream nestled in a meringue. Angelina’s also serves sandwiches and regular meals, but the chocolate was enough for us, and our wallet. The setting was elegant – high ceilings, painted in gold with ornate crown molding, perhaps reminiscent of “old Paris.” The pace was just the opposite of Monet’s water lilies rooms – harried. The waiter would not stay around if you were having trouble making up your minds, as the customers next to us were. He would dash off and come back later.
Our next destination was the Eiffel Tower, though we stopped off at a little kiosk in a park to purchase some crepes. I had jelly in mine, which eventually cascaded down my fingers. So messy, but so good. The walk to the Tower took about 20 minutes. It looked so close, just like I remember the Washington Monument seeming close when it really isn’t. As our hotel receptionist said one day, “No one minds walking in Paris because it is so lovely and so interesting.” Yes.
We were anticipating a long wait in line at the Tower and we were not disappointed. It was a good opportunity to read a couple of chapters on our Kindle, which has come in very handy. The only strange thing was that we could not buy a ticket to the top from ground level. You could purchase a ticket for the first level, and then you had to get in line on that level to purchase another ticket. It was very confusing to us and caused us a little difficulty later on, but we survived. The view from the tower is magnificent, Paris in the round. The crowd was happy even when standing in line or being redirected to stand in another line. Good examples to us all.
It was when we got back to ground level that things got a little more difficult. All day we had been trying to make a connection with our Chinese friend He Da, but had been unable to arrange anything mutually agreeable. That means that he did not agree to anything we suggested Finally, we made a plan to meet for dinner. To do that we had to find the Metro, which took several times stopping to question people – some of whom seemed as clueless as we were – then crushing onto an elevated train, making a connection to another train and ending up at a huge station with escalators and stairs rising seemingly to the sky. When we finally emerged into the sunlight, it was already about 9:00 and it took He Da about 20 more minutes to find us. He prefers to eat Chinese food, so we accompanied him to a Chinese restaurant of his choice. The food was fine and he seemed to feel at home there. Finally, he walked with us to the metro stop that would be where we will need to get off to get to the airport bus on Monday. See you next time, He Da said. Maybe in China, maybe in Paris, maybe in America. Hope so. I hope Rich enjoyed his birthday; it was certainly a full one.
Next we were off to the Tullieries via the metro. Since this was our second trip, that was familiar. Our target this time was a small art museum called Musee de l’ Orangerie. The Tullieries gardens were not as beautiful as I had remembered, but they seem to be much enjoyed, especially on a weekend. We took a little time to sit in the sun and read. Then we strolled on to the museum.
This museum is noted for the private collection of a Parisian named Paul Guillaume and for a spectacular gift from Monet of two rooms in the round with murals of his famous water lilies. They are to depict his garden from sunrise to sunset. He intended the rooms to be a place for the people of Paris to find some peace and refreshment, especially after the war. Silence is requested when enjoying the rooms. They are amazing.
The rest of the museum is devoted to Guillaume’s taste in art. We saw all of our favorite impressionists and made the acquaintance of two artists new to us. One is Chaim Soutine. The description calls his works “strong and tormented,” but that seems a bit extreme. We watched a film about him first, which we could not understand, but which offered a helpful perspective –the film would show a real scene or person and then superimpose Soutine’s depiction. It gave a good vision of his style. Our favorite was of a large tree “blowing in the wind.” It was very powerful and created a remembrance of the tornadoes that have been devastating our country.
The second artist was Gino Severini. His career spanned about 40 years and the interesting thing about him was that he painted in so many different styles. He started with pointillism, then something called futurism, then cubism, then classicism, and then finally he returned to Italy and painted very lovely and recognizable scenes and people from his homeland. He truly did it all and seems to have enjoyed it.
Leaving the museum, we were off to 226 Rue de Rivoli, the site of Angelina’s chocolate, recommended by a friend, raved about on the web, the place to find the best hot cup of chocolate in the world, peutetre. Well, we haven’t had any better, that’s for sure. We were served cups, a pitcher of chocolate, a small container of whipped cream. It was milk chocolate and seemed to be like chocolate pudding that had not yet set, rich and creamy. We also ordered a pastry called mont blanc, that came highly recommended. It was the size of a huge muffin with about two inches of creamy chocolate, over a thinner layer of whipped cream nestled in a meringue. Angelina’s also serves sandwiches and regular meals, but the chocolate was enough for us, and our wallet. The setting was elegant – high ceilings, painted in gold with ornate crown molding, perhaps reminiscent of “old Paris.” The pace was just the opposite of Monet’s water lilies rooms – harried. The waiter would not stay around if you were having trouble making up your minds, as the customers next to us were. He would dash off and come back later.
Our next destination was the Eiffel Tower, though we stopped off at a little kiosk in a park to purchase some crepes. I had jelly in mine, which eventually cascaded down my fingers. So messy, but so good. The walk to the Tower took about 20 minutes. It looked so close, just like I remember the Washington Monument seeming close when it really isn’t. As our hotel receptionist said one day, “No one minds walking in Paris because it is so lovely and so interesting.” Yes.
We were anticipating a long wait in line at the Tower and we were not disappointed. It was a good opportunity to read a couple of chapters on our Kindle, which has come in very handy. The only strange thing was that we could not buy a ticket to the top from ground level. You could purchase a ticket for the first level, and then you had to get in line on that level to purchase another ticket. It was very confusing to us and caused us a little difficulty later on, but we survived. The view from the tower is magnificent, Paris in the round. The crowd was happy even when standing in line or being redirected to stand in another line. Good examples to us all.
It was when we got back to ground level that things got a little more difficult. All day we had been trying to make a connection with our Chinese friend He Da, but had been unable to arrange anything mutually agreeable. That means that he did not agree to anything we suggested Finally, we made a plan to meet for dinner. To do that we had to find the Metro, which took several times stopping to question people – some of whom seemed as clueless as we were – then crushing onto an elevated train, making a connection to another train and ending up at a huge station with escalators and stairs rising seemingly to the sky. When we finally emerged into the sunlight, it was already about 9:00 and it took He Da about 20 more minutes to find us. He prefers to eat Chinese food, so we accompanied him to a Chinese restaurant of his choice. The food was fine and he seemed to feel at home there. Finally, he walked with us to the metro stop that would be where we will need to get off to get to the airport bus on Monday. See you next time, He Da said. Maybe in China, maybe in Paris, maybe in America. Hope so. I hope Rich enjoyed his birthday; it was certainly a full one.
ericksonsinparis - day 7
Day 7 – ericksonsinparis
I think I will begin at the end this time because we had such a lovely meal in a neighborhood Indian restaurant. We had seen it on a walk earlier in the week and had tucked it away in our minds for a later visit. After our first choice tonight of a creperie turned out to be closed, we chose Indian cuisine. The lentils would have been enough for me. They were such a delight after several days of French fries The nan/bread was filled with a thin a layer of cheese; the rice was sprinkled with veggies; the cucumber salad was refreshing; my chicken and Rich’s sampling of a variety of meat and fish was super; we had three dipping sauces for various tastes—sweet, minty, spicy; wine; and halva for dessert – sweet carrots boiled and shaped into a heart. We also enjoyed a brief meander down a side street near our hotel. Very reminiscent of the tiny streets of Paris that we explored on our last visit. You know by now, that was 40 years ago
The rest of the day was filled with tennis. This time we chose to stay on one court and avoid all the standing in line. The first match was a Men’s Doubles between two Brazilians and a team from Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. K and U were victorious even though the Brazilians were seeded players. The next was a men’s singles between Fognini from Italy and Garcia-Lopez from Spain. Again the seeded player lost. The Spaniad won the first set, but not easily, and I remember asking Rich if he thought Fognini could take a set. Lo and behold, he told the whole match in four sets.
The reason we had chosen Court 7 was the third match featured Bob and Mike Bryan, the number 1 Men’s Doubles team in the world. They were given a run for their money by J. Murray (Andy Murray’s brother) and Guccione from Austria. The match had everything that makes doubles so exciting, including all four players within a few feet of each other slamming the ball back and forth across the net. In the end, the Bryans prevailed, but not without a fight. One of the twins was having trouble with his serve, which did nothing to help the team. When the Bryans win a set, they jump high and bump chests, like two raging bulls. They are fun to watch.
We only stayed for three games of the last match, a lady’s singles match. The notable thing was that the player from Spain wore sunglasses, and it was so cloudy and cold.
Tomorrow is Rich’s birthday. We are headed into Paris proper once more to see more impression paintings, eat more treats, walk around, and perhaps meet up with our Chinese friend. Time will tell. We hope to start the day with a phone call to the grandchildren in Turkey.
Bon nuit.
I think I will begin at the end this time because we had such a lovely meal in a neighborhood Indian restaurant. We had seen it on a walk earlier in the week and had tucked it away in our minds for a later visit. After our first choice tonight of a creperie turned out to be closed, we chose Indian cuisine. The lentils would have been enough for me. They were such a delight after several days of French fries The nan/bread was filled with a thin a layer of cheese; the rice was sprinkled with veggies; the cucumber salad was refreshing; my chicken and Rich’s sampling of a variety of meat and fish was super; we had three dipping sauces for various tastes—sweet, minty, spicy; wine; and halva for dessert – sweet carrots boiled and shaped into a heart. We also enjoyed a brief meander down a side street near our hotel. Very reminiscent of the tiny streets of Paris that we explored on our last visit. You know by now, that was 40 years ago
The rest of the day was filled with tennis. This time we chose to stay on one court and avoid all the standing in line. The first match was a Men’s Doubles between two Brazilians and a team from Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan. K and U were victorious even though the Brazilians were seeded players. The next was a men’s singles between Fognini from Italy and Garcia-Lopez from Spain. Again the seeded player lost. The Spaniad won the first set, but not easily, and I remember asking Rich if he thought Fognini could take a set. Lo and behold, he told the whole match in four sets.
The reason we had chosen Court 7 was the third match featured Bob and Mike Bryan, the number 1 Men’s Doubles team in the world. They were given a run for their money by J. Murray (Andy Murray’s brother) and Guccione from Austria. The match had everything that makes doubles so exciting, including all four players within a few feet of each other slamming the ball back and forth across the net. In the end, the Bryans prevailed, but not without a fight. One of the twins was having trouble with his serve, which did nothing to help the team. When the Bryans win a set, they jump high and bump chests, like two raging bulls. They are fun to watch.
We only stayed for three games of the last match, a lady’s singles match. The notable thing was that the player from Spain wore sunglasses, and it was so cloudy and cold.
Tomorrow is Rich’s birthday. We are headed into Paris proper once more to see more impression paintings, eat more treats, walk around, and perhaps meet up with our Chinese friend. Time will tell. We hope to start the day with a phone call to the grandchildren in Turkey.
Bon nuit.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
day 6 - ericksonsinparis
Today the operative words were chilly, windy, and dusty. In fact, we joked that we might have gotten more red dirt in our lungs today than in our two years in China. Well, not hardly It was especially hard on the players, though. Sometimes, just as a player was about to serve, a small dust storm would interrupt. I imagine that they could all need something like Visine after their matches.
Our Chinese friend, He Da, had asked if we could try to get him a ticket for tomorrow, Friday. After we arrived at Roland Garros today and asked at the ticket window, we were directed to the internet ticket website. Somehow I became the designated person to try to accomplish the ticket buying task. What a crazy experience that was. There was at least one shop with free internet. Finding that was easy. Using the keyboard was another matter. My touch typing skills did not stand me in good stead because for some reason the French like to rearrange things. Take the “Q” for example. Are there a lot of “Q’s” in French? Perhaps, because for some reason they reverse the “Q” and the “A” and I could not get used to the change so I was always typing Richqrd. Then there were the numbers that were upper case, as was the period, and the @, which was an Alt Shift something or other. After about forty-five minutes, I finally got to the page that gave me the information that all the tickets were sold out. We sort of knew that from the ticket booth, but the gentleman had encouraged us to try to website anyway. The time passed quickly, and I knew I could complain about it on the blog
We watched bits and pieces of several matches today. The first one, however, we watched in its entirety. It was between Sam Querry and Ivan Ljubicic. Querry did not prevail. He didn’t quite seem to have the heart for it, and/or Ljubicic was a difficult opponent. I have been trying to decide what words I wanted to use to describe M. Lju. I have settled on “that old fox.” I don’t know that he is very old, but he expended no more energy than was absolutely necessary. Once he got ahead on serve, he just sort of lay back and let his opponent win on his serves. Then he saved his game for holding his own serve. Admittedly, Querry did not give him too much to worry about. But Ljubicic’s not really playing half the time did not show much respect for his opponent or for his audience, but he did win, and I guess that is what is most important.
Our next goal was to see the other American still in contention, Marty Fish. He did very well. We were able to see the second and third sets of the three set match. Fish looked a lot more confident than he had when we saw him on Monday. So, at least one American had made it to the third round.
I had taken a liking to Heather Watson, the young Brit that we had seen two days earlier, so we headed for Court 3, where she was supposed to be playing, but the prior match was still in progress. So we stood in line (there were a lot of queues today) and ended up watching one set of a match between Marcos Baghdatis from Cyprus and Leonardo Mayer from Argentina. Baghdatis and Mayer are both grunters who have to punctuate each stroke with a sound of agonized energy. They almost seemed to be singing the same note, though, of course, not at the same time. The funniest part of this match was the standing in line because we met a very clever Indian man who kept us entertained with lots of loud jocularity.
Our next goal was a mixed doubles match, and on the way Rich pointed out a sign that said Boissons Chaudes/hot drinks. He gave me the price of a hot chocolate and I got into the queue. It was a short one, though, and I was soon at the counter where I ordered my chocolate. The lady told me that I would have to give her an extra euro in exchange for my plastic cup, which I could redeem when I brought the cup back. I showed her my meager coins and made it clear that I did not speak French, and eventually let me have the cup “free” on condition that I bring it back “immediatement.” Well, I was not going to do that, but I did bring it back later. The clerk wanted to give me a euro, but I tried my best to explain that I had not made a deposit for the cup. It was “free.” It turned out to be just as confusing and frustrating not to receive a euro as it had been not to pay the euro in the first place. But I am not in my native country, so why should I expect to know what is going on most of the time.
We spent only one set at the mixed doubles. I liked the name of one of the ladies, Mlle. Delacroix. I also liked her outfit. The back at hip level was filled with large pleats that flounced. She reminded me of a bird, maybe a peacock, although gray. The most interesting thing in that match was sitting next to some Americans who live in Geneva, Switzerland (they wouldn’t say why), who knew where Delaware County, PA was. They were from North Carolina so they recognized Rich’s Davidson Lacrosse hat. They had just flown to Paris for the day; Europe is a small world.
Next we caught a glimpse of a men’s doubles match, won by Shakhovsky and Youzhny. We have seen Youzhny before, at the ATP tournament in Cincinnati. Rich likes his serve and has tried to adapt it to his own game.
Then it was back to a queue. We wanted to see the young Ukranian, Dolgopolov, again, but before we were able to do that, we ended up seeing the final set of a men’s singles match between Nikolay Davydenko and Antonio Veic. Davydenko’s matches are notoriously long because, as Rich say, “he does not have any winners.” Veic, a qualifier, won. Next he will play Nadal. What an amazing opportunity for him. Finally, we remained on that Court for the first set of Dolgopolov and Haider-Maurer. Dolgopolove won that one.
Then it was home to warm up a bit and wash for dinner. We went back to the Greek restaurant, Happy Times, where we had eaten a few days ago. This time Rich had lamb and I had a pannini. And, of course, the Moroccan mint tea. Now we are home at the hotel, and I am falling asleep at the keyboard. Bon nuit.
p.s. I can understand why the French love their language. It is almost like a song.
Our Chinese friend, He Da, had asked if we could try to get him a ticket for tomorrow, Friday. After we arrived at Roland Garros today and asked at the ticket window, we were directed to the internet ticket website. Somehow I became the designated person to try to accomplish the ticket buying task. What a crazy experience that was. There was at least one shop with free internet. Finding that was easy. Using the keyboard was another matter. My touch typing skills did not stand me in good stead because for some reason the French like to rearrange things. Take the “Q” for example. Are there a lot of “Q’s” in French? Perhaps, because for some reason they reverse the “Q” and the “A” and I could not get used to the change so I was always typing Richqrd. Then there were the numbers that were upper case, as was the period, and the @, which was an Alt Shift something or other. After about forty-five minutes, I finally got to the page that gave me the information that all the tickets were sold out. We sort of knew that from the ticket booth, but the gentleman had encouraged us to try to website anyway. The time passed quickly, and I knew I could complain about it on the blog
We watched bits and pieces of several matches today. The first one, however, we watched in its entirety. It was between Sam Querry and Ivan Ljubicic. Querry did not prevail. He didn’t quite seem to have the heart for it, and/or Ljubicic was a difficult opponent. I have been trying to decide what words I wanted to use to describe M. Lju. I have settled on “that old fox.” I don’t know that he is very old, but he expended no more energy than was absolutely necessary. Once he got ahead on serve, he just sort of lay back and let his opponent win on his serves. Then he saved his game for holding his own serve. Admittedly, Querry did not give him too much to worry about. But Ljubicic’s not really playing half the time did not show much respect for his opponent or for his audience, but he did win, and I guess that is what is most important.
Our next goal was to see the other American still in contention, Marty Fish. He did very well. We were able to see the second and third sets of the three set match. Fish looked a lot more confident than he had when we saw him on Monday. So, at least one American had made it to the third round.
I had taken a liking to Heather Watson, the young Brit that we had seen two days earlier, so we headed for Court 3, where she was supposed to be playing, but the prior match was still in progress. So we stood in line (there were a lot of queues today) and ended up watching one set of a match between Marcos Baghdatis from Cyprus and Leonardo Mayer from Argentina. Baghdatis and Mayer are both grunters who have to punctuate each stroke with a sound of agonized energy. They almost seemed to be singing the same note, though, of course, not at the same time. The funniest part of this match was the standing in line because we met a very clever Indian man who kept us entertained with lots of loud jocularity.
Our next goal was a mixed doubles match, and on the way Rich pointed out a sign that said Boissons Chaudes/hot drinks. He gave me the price of a hot chocolate and I got into the queue. It was a short one, though, and I was soon at the counter where I ordered my chocolate. The lady told me that I would have to give her an extra euro in exchange for my plastic cup, which I could redeem when I brought the cup back. I showed her my meager coins and made it clear that I did not speak French, and eventually let me have the cup “free” on condition that I bring it back “immediatement.” Well, I was not going to do that, but I did bring it back later. The clerk wanted to give me a euro, but I tried my best to explain that I had not made a deposit for the cup. It was “free.” It turned out to be just as confusing and frustrating not to receive a euro as it had been not to pay the euro in the first place. But I am not in my native country, so why should I expect to know what is going on most of the time.
We spent only one set at the mixed doubles. I liked the name of one of the ladies, Mlle. Delacroix. I also liked her outfit. The back at hip level was filled with large pleats that flounced. She reminded me of a bird, maybe a peacock, although gray. The most interesting thing in that match was sitting next to some Americans who live in Geneva, Switzerland (they wouldn’t say why), who knew where Delaware County, PA was. They were from North Carolina so they recognized Rich’s Davidson Lacrosse hat. They had just flown to Paris for the day; Europe is a small world.
Next we caught a glimpse of a men’s doubles match, won by Shakhovsky and Youzhny. We have seen Youzhny before, at the ATP tournament in Cincinnati. Rich likes his serve and has tried to adapt it to his own game.
Then it was back to a queue. We wanted to see the young Ukranian, Dolgopolov, again, but before we were able to do that, we ended up seeing the final set of a men’s singles match between Nikolay Davydenko and Antonio Veic. Davydenko’s matches are notoriously long because, as Rich say, “he does not have any winners.” Veic, a qualifier, won. Next he will play Nadal. What an amazing opportunity for him. Finally, we remained on that Court for the first set of Dolgopolov and Haider-Maurer. Dolgopolove won that one.
Then it was home to warm up a bit and wash for dinner. We went back to the Greek restaurant, Happy Times, where we had eaten a few days ago. This time Rich had lamb and I had a pannini. And, of course, the Moroccan mint tea. Now we are home at the hotel, and I am falling asleep at the keyboard. Bon nuit.
p.s. I can understand why the French love their language. It is almost like a song.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Day 5 - ericksonsinparis
Day 5 – ericksonsinparis
Another picture perfect day. I wore my jacket just in case, but it was not needed within an hour. Morning began slowly with breakfast at the hotel. We had avoided that because it was not included with our room. In fact, it seemed a little pricey. However, we thought that if we had a good breakfast this morning, we might be able to skip lunch and have an early dinner since we were not positive where we would be at any given time during the day. It was delightful. I had my first muesli for a long time, a regular size, non-bitter cup of coffee, assorted dried fruits, assorted breads and pastries, ham, a hard-boiled egg and yogurt. That should have held me for awhile, and it did. Rich had something similar minus the yogurt and egg. Then we were off on our Paris adventure.
We double checked our understanding of the Metro system with our receptionist, and headed to the Billencourt station. We had already purchased several tickets on our first day, so we went straight through the turnstiles. The Paris Metro is very well designed. Lines are identified by their last stop, and if you just follow the signs, you will end up in the right place. Even when changing lines, there is no need to exit and re-enter; just follow the signs. We had to change lines at Franklin Roosevelt Station (most of the Station names are French, of course) and head for the Tuilleries. We emerged, found the entrance to the Gardens, used our map and “wits” (HA!) to find the Musee D’Orsay, and joined the queue. The wait was made less onerous by a man who was selling bottled water for one euro and our recently acquired Kindle. We have been reading a draft of our son’s mystery novel to each other during our down time. Actually, the line moved rather fast even without our distractions. We had come to this museum primarily to see the Manet exhibit as well as the other impressionist paintings that are there. We think we saw something called Manet and the Sea in Philadelphia (or was it Monet); this one was heavy populated with portraiture although it was historically and chronologically organized to show his journey into impressionism. Some of his early women looked decidedly masculine. Don’t know way. Also, all of this people were very pale, with stark contrasts between dark and light in the paintings. At one point when we were resting, I “interviewed” Rich about his views of the exhibit. He said that he was interested to notice that the sketches of had much more detail than the final painting. Some of my favorites were “La Lecture,” the “Negresse” (for some reason Manet’s Negro faces had much more personality than his white ones) and “Claire de Lune au Bologne.” He also had a lovely painting of St. Francis and an interesting assemblage of the great artists of the time, including himself.
After Manet we explored several of the small galleries on either side of the main hall. The Van Gogh’s were so bright that the paintings looked about to leap out of the frames. We saw the Monet whose print we had purchased in Amsterdam so many years ago, and we rediscovered Sisley. I also appreciated a painting of Christ called “Christe aux limbes – Christ in Limbo” by Paul Cezanne because the Christ was so physically strong. We searched quite awhile for a map of the museum, but when we finally found one it was not much use. It included the numbered locations of each gallery, but included no key to identify what the numbers referred to. When questioned, the information lady said that because of the renovation, the content of the galleries was constantly changing. No one knew clearly where anything was from week to week. One special area was devoted to Gustav Mahler. It included background music from Symphony No. 4 in G Major (which was listed as “Sol Major”) and many musical manuscripts under glass. There were also some paintings and sculpted busts of the composer. Very classy.
After over three hours in the museum, with time at the end to answer a questioner about our impressions, we emerged into the sunshine, consulted our map once more and started walking along the Seine. Our destination was St. Chapelle on Ile de la Cite. We took our time, strolled past the artists and booksellers, descended to the path along the river, sat on a bench, ascended again to cross the river, and eventually found ourselves in another queue. St. Chapelle was once the chapel of the Kings of France, before they moved out to the relative safety of Versailles. The stained glass windows are beautiful, but so high that coupled with our failing eyesight we could not make out clearly many of the details. We tried to enjoy mostly the aura of the place, and it had plenty of aura. They are restoring and renovating and had an interesting display about exactly how they were going about repairing the windows when necessary. It is painstaking work. How wonderful that the beauty has been preserved. Near St. Chapelle is the Palace of Justice sporting the ideals Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite. Before we left America, I had been listening to Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. I think the Palace of Justice is where the revolutionaries “tried” and condemned their enemies. It was not always justice that was dispensed, probablement.
We were a little turned around when we exited St. Chapelle and therefore retraced our steps unintentionally for about ten minutes, but we soon discovered our error. Our next destination was a second island called Saint Louis en L’ile, but we had a couple of detours along the way. The first was a stop for French Onion Soup. As we passed Notre Dame, Rich began to stop at restaurants and ask if they had French Onion Soup, a special treat on our last visit to Paris 40 years ago. At first, everyone was saying that it was the wrong time of day, or their supply was exhausted, but eventually he was successful. The search reminded me of the day in China early in our tour when I followed him up a street as he searched for jiaozi. There too he finally succeeded. The soup was fine and we topped it off with an order of French fries/ pomme frites with mayonnaise. Delicious. Then we were off again. Our destination was 31 Rue St. Louis en L’ile, the site of the best ice cream in the world, according to our sources Lynne Crew and her daughter, Tessa. Before we could get there, however, we and many others were stopped by a film crew and made to vacate the street. I can’t imagine how they actually put a movie together because the scene they shot, which seemed first to be just a scene of people walking in the street and second a scene of the hero walking down the street only took a few seconds. At last, we found the ice cream shop, ordered a double dip (quite a bit smaller than double dips in the USA, but nonetheless very tasty), walked back to a bridge that would take us over the Seine to the Rue de Rivoli, to a Metro stop, and finally we arrived at our hotel. It was a big, beautiful day; just as Paris is a big, beautiful city. We are so lucky to be here.
p.s. The shampoo felt great, but the hair is in about the same condition. I guess it needs a bit more nourishing and repairing.
Another picture perfect day. I wore my jacket just in case, but it was not needed within an hour. Morning began slowly with breakfast at the hotel. We had avoided that because it was not included with our room. In fact, it seemed a little pricey. However, we thought that if we had a good breakfast this morning, we might be able to skip lunch and have an early dinner since we were not positive where we would be at any given time during the day. It was delightful. I had my first muesli for a long time, a regular size, non-bitter cup of coffee, assorted dried fruits, assorted breads and pastries, ham, a hard-boiled egg and yogurt. That should have held me for awhile, and it did. Rich had something similar minus the yogurt and egg. Then we were off on our Paris adventure.
We double checked our understanding of the Metro system with our receptionist, and headed to the Billencourt station. We had already purchased several tickets on our first day, so we went straight through the turnstiles. The Paris Metro is very well designed. Lines are identified by their last stop, and if you just follow the signs, you will end up in the right place. Even when changing lines, there is no need to exit and re-enter; just follow the signs. We had to change lines at Franklin Roosevelt Station (most of the Station names are French, of course) and head for the Tuilleries. We emerged, found the entrance to the Gardens, used our map and “wits” (HA!) to find the Musee D’Orsay, and joined the queue. The wait was made less onerous by a man who was selling bottled water for one euro and our recently acquired Kindle. We have been reading a draft of our son’s mystery novel to each other during our down time. Actually, the line moved rather fast even without our distractions. We had come to this museum primarily to see the Manet exhibit as well as the other impressionist paintings that are there. We think we saw something called Manet and the Sea in Philadelphia (or was it Monet); this one was heavy populated with portraiture although it was historically and chronologically organized to show his journey into impressionism. Some of his early women looked decidedly masculine. Don’t know way. Also, all of this people were very pale, with stark contrasts between dark and light in the paintings. At one point when we were resting, I “interviewed” Rich about his views of the exhibit. He said that he was interested to notice that the sketches of had much more detail than the final painting. Some of my favorites were “La Lecture,” the “Negresse” (for some reason Manet’s Negro faces had much more personality than his white ones) and “Claire de Lune au Bologne.” He also had a lovely painting of St. Francis and an interesting assemblage of the great artists of the time, including himself.
After Manet we explored several of the small galleries on either side of the main hall. The Van Gogh’s were so bright that the paintings looked about to leap out of the frames. We saw the Monet whose print we had purchased in Amsterdam so many years ago, and we rediscovered Sisley. I also appreciated a painting of Christ called “Christe aux limbes – Christ in Limbo” by Paul Cezanne because the Christ was so physically strong. We searched quite awhile for a map of the museum, but when we finally found one it was not much use. It included the numbered locations of each gallery, but included no key to identify what the numbers referred to. When questioned, the information lady said that because of the renovation, the content of the galleries was constantly changing. No one knew clearly where anything was from week to week. One special area was devoted to Gustav Mahler. It included background music from Symphony No. 4 in G Major (which was listed as “Sol Major”) and many musical manuscripts under glass. There were also some paintings and sculpted busts of the composer. Very classy.
After over three hours in the museum, with time at the end to answer a questioner about our impressions, we emerged into the sunshine, consulted our map once more and started walking along the Seine. Our destination was St. Chapelle on Ile de la Cite. We took our time, strolled past the artists and booksellers, descended to the path along the river, sat on a bench, ascended again to cross the river, and eventually found ourselves in another queue. St. Chapelle was once the chapel of the Kings of France, before they moved out to the relative safety of Versailles. The stained glass windows are beautiful, but so high that coupled with our failing eyesight we could not make out clearly many of the details. We tried to enjoy mostly the aura of the place, and it had plenty of aura. They are restoring and renovating and had an interesting display about exactly how they were going about repairing the windows when necessary. It is painstaking work. How wonderful that the beauty has been preserved. Near St. Chapelle is the Palace of Justice sporting the ideals Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite. Before we left America, I had been listening to Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. I think the Palace of Justice is where the revolutionaries “tried” and condemned their enemies. It was not always justice that was dispensed, probablement.
We were a little turned around when we exited St. Chapelle and therefore retraced our steps unintentionally for about ten minutes, but we soon discovered our error. Our next destination was a second island called Saint Louis en L’ile, but we had a couple of detours along the way. The first was a stop for French Onion Soup. As we passed Notre Dame, Rich began to stop at restaurants and ask if they had French Onion Soup, a special treat on our last visit to Paris 40 years ago. At first, everyone was saying that it was the wrong time of day, or their supply was exhausted, but eventually he was successful. The search reminded me of the day in China early in our tour when I followed him up a street as he searched for jiaozi. There too he finally succeeded. The soup was fine and we topped it off with an order of French fries/ pomme frites with mayonnaise. Delicious. Then we were off again. Our destination was 31 Rue St. Louis en L’ile, the site of the best ice cream in the world, according to our sources Lynne Crew and her daughter, Tessa. Before we could get there, however, we and many others were stopped by a film crew and made to vacate the street. I can’t imagine how they actually put a movie together because the scene they shot, which seemed first to be just a scene of people walking in the street and second a scene of the hero walking down the street only took a few seconds. At last, we found the ice cream shop, ordered a double dip (quite a bit smaller than double dips in the USA, but nonetheless very tasty), walked back to a bridge that would take us over the Seine to the Rue de Rivoli, to a Metro stop, and finally we arrived at our hotel. It was a big, beautiful day; just as Paris is a big, beautiful city. We are so lucky to be here.
p.s. The shampoo felt great, but the hair is in about the same condition. I guess it needs a bit more nourishing and repairing.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
ericksonsinparis - Day 4
Day 4 – ericksonsinparis
It is dry, dry, dry here in Paris. It is great for watching tennis and drying panty hose, but terrible for skin and hair. We bought some store brand shampoo this afternoon that is supposed to smell like mangoes and nourish and repair hair (in French, “hair” is a plural noun. Isn’t that interesting?) I hope it works. My hair feels like straw.
In addition to straw hair, the main physical problem of this day was keeping warm. The sun was bright, but the air was cool, and because we were hot yesterday, we left our jackets at the hotel. We actually purposefully sat in the sun today, something that we studiously avoided yesterday. Who knew? I guess we need to have our grandson Joshua give us a daily weather report.
We decided to breakfast at McDonald’s again, but this time I only had an Espresso – which included a croissant and a tiny cup of coffee. The coffee at McDonald’s here is fairly drinkable, but there isn’t much of it, and all the coffee requires a heavy dose of sugar, as well as milk if you can find that. After breakfast, we walked to the Open site, arriving around 10:00 a.m. just as we had yesterday. Because the play doesn’t begin until 11:00, we had plenty of time to find a sunny spot and warm up.
First, we watched a set of men’s singles between Dolgopolov, an up and comer from the Ukraine who reached the semi-finals of the Australian Open, and Schuttler from Germany. Dolgopolov won the first set easily so we moved on to our second objective. That was a women’s singles match (“simple dames” is what the French call them) between a French wild card selection (the host country gets some extra spots for competitors) and a Japanese. The French lady, Mladenovic, had won the first set handily by the time we arrived, but Morita took the 2nd and 3rd, thereby winning the match. I met a lady from Hawaii who was attending with two of her friends. She had had a string of bad luck; first the airline lost her bags and then someone stole her wallet. It was a sad tale, but she seemed happy enough. I do not think I would have been.
We had chosen that second match because of its location on Court 7, which was also the location of the match we most wanted to see, which was between American San Querrey and a German named Kohlschreiber. Because the grounds get more and more crowded as the day progresses, it seems a good idea to get to your chosen location in plenty of time and maneuver your way to a reasonable seat. Sam did not start off well and lost the first set. After that he settled down and won the next three sets. Yeah, America. Actually, Americans do not usually do well at the French Open because they do not have experience playing on clay. In fact, we learned later that this was Querrey’s first victory ever at the French Open. We learned that because as we left the court, we were close enough to hear him being interviewed by Pam Shriver. Pretty cool. He said he was nervous, but encouraged by the fact that Marty Fish, another American, had won yesterday. He said maybe there would be another miracle and John Eisner could beat Nadal. Imagine having that opponent as your first found matchup. Actually, Eisner pushed Nadal to five sets, which quite an accomplishment although one does not get any extra points in the rankings for doing well, only for winning.
A few words about clay courts. I knew the French Open was played on clay, but I had never seen a clay court up close and personal. They are messy. The red clay lies like a fine dust and records the mark of any ball that encounters it, as well as any feet. Instead of an instant reply, where there is a questionable call, a player can ask the chair umpire to come out and look at the mark and give his opinion. Since there are a plethora of marks all over the court, I found that strategy amusing, but I guess it works. Every so many games the grounds crew would drag something over the courts that worked like a giant eraser, eradicating most of the marks. Some players like to slide on the clay and are pretty good at it. Others seem to have a fetish for trying to knock the clay of their sneakers by clubbing their feet with their racket after ever point. Everyone gets their feet dirty. The clay dust settles on their socks and makes it appear that they are bleeding from the ankles.
The most emotional match was yet to come. It was a five setter between the Russian Tursunov and a Belgian named Malisse. Tursunov has not won an ATP match all season, says Rich, although he has been a top player in the past. Malisse had quite an active cheering section. It was a hard fought match. Tursunov certainly had the better physique, but Malisse won in the end.
We decided not to stay quite as late as we had the night before because we had been too tired. So we left around seven, bought some shampoo on the way home as I mentioned, changed into warmer clothes at the hotel and went out for dinner. This seems to be something of an ethnic neighborhood, not based on the appearance of the people but based on the many Moroccan, Greek, and Turkish restaurants. Tonight Rich had a Tangine and I had sweet mint tea, and a few other things. Wonderful.
Tomorrow we do not have tickets, so plan to begin to explore Paris. Stay tuned for some different sorts of adventures
It is dry, dry, dry here in Paris. It is great for watching tennis and drying panty hose, but terrible for skin and hair. We bought some store brand shampoo this afternoon that is supposed to smell like mangoes and nourish and repair hair (in French, “hair” is a plural noun. Isn’t that interesting?) I hope it works. My hair feels like straw.
In addition to straw hair, the main physical problem of this day was keeping warm. The sun was bright, but the air was cool, and because we were hot yesterday, we left our jackets at the hotel. We actually purposefully sat in the sun today, something that we studiously avoided yesterday. Who knew? I guess we need to have our grandson Joshua give us a daily weather report.
We decided to breakfast at McDonald’s again, but this time I only had an Espresso – which included a croissant and a tiny cup of coffee. The coffee at McDonald’s here is fairly drinkable, but there isn’t much of it, and all the coffee requires a heavy dose of sugar, as well as milk if you can find that. After breakfast, we walked to the Open site, arriving around 10:00 a.m. just as we had yesterday. Because the play doesn’t begin until 11:00, we had plenty of time to find a sunny spot and warm up.
First, we watched a set of men’s singles between Dolgopolov, an up and comer from the Ukraine who reached the semi-finals of the Australian Open, and Schuttler from Germany. Dolgopolov won the first set easily so we moved on to our second objective. That was a women’s singles match (“simple dames” is what the French call them) between a French wild card selection (the host country gets some extra spots for competitors) and a Japanese. The French lady, Mladenovic, had won the first set handily by the time we arrived, but Morita took the 2nd and 3rd, thereby winning the match. I met a lady from Hawaii who was attending with two of her friends. She had had a string of bad luck; first the airline lost her bags and then someone stole her wallet. It was a sad tale, but she seemed happy enough. I do not think I would have been.
We had chosen that second match because of its location on Court 7, which was also the location of the match we most wanted to see, which was between American San Querrey and a German named Kohlschreiber. Because the grounds get more and more crowded as the day progresses, it seems a good idea to get to your chosen location in plenty of time and maneuver your way to a reasonable seat. Sam did not start off well and lost the first set. After that he settled down and won the next three sets. Yeah, America. Actually, Americans do not usually do well at the French Open because they do not have experience playing on clay. In fact, we learned later that this was Querrey’s first victory ever at the French Open. We learned that because as we left the court, we were close enough to hear him being interviewed by Pam Shriver. Pretty cool. He said he was nervous, but encouraged by the fact that Marty Fish, another American, had won yesterday. He said maybe there would be another miracle and John Eisner could beat Nadal. Imagine having that opponent as your first found matchup. Actually, Eisner pushed Nadal to five sets, which quite an accomplishment although one does not get any extra points in the rankings for doing well, only for winning.
A few words about clay courts. I knew the French Open was played on clay, but I had never seen a clay court up close and personal. They are messy. The red clay lies like a fine dust and records the mark of any ball that encounters it, as well as any feet. Instead of an instant reply, where there is a questionable call, a player can ask the chair umpire to come out and look at the mark and give his opinion. Since there are a plethora of marks all over the court, I found that strategy amusing, but I guess it works. Every so many games the grounds crew would drag something over the courts that worked like a giant eraser, eradicating most of the marks. Some players like to slide on the clay and are pretty good at it. Others seem to have a fetish for trying to knock the clay of their sneakers by clubbing their feet with their racket after ever point. Everyone gets their feet dirty. The clay dust settles on their socks and makes it appear that they are bleeding from the ankles.
The most emotional match was yet to come. It was a five setter between the Russian Tursunov and a Belgian named Malisse. Tursunov has not won an ATP match all season, says Rich, although he has been a top player in the past. Malisse had quite an active cheering section. It was a hard fought match. Tursunov certainly had the better physique, but Malisse won in the end.
We decided not to stay quite as late as we had the night before because we had been too tired. So we left around seven, bought some shampoo on the way home as I mentioned, changed into warmer clothes at the hotel and went out for dinner. This seems to be something of an ethnic neighborhood, not based on the appearance of the people but based on the many Moroccan, Greek, and Turkish restaurants. Tonight Rich had a Tangine and I had sweet mint tea, and a few other things. Wonderful.
Tomorrow we do not have tickets, so plan to begin to explore Paris. Stay tuned for some different sorts of adventures
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