Parislog 57
September 9, 2006

I found another grocery store with my name written all over it. It is called Inno and seems to be run by the store Monoprix. It has some of the ritziest foods in there with a chocolate section of everything there is to be tasted. It is only 1 metro station from me and a 3 minute walk. I actually had no clue what it was from the outside and went in just to see what it might be. The underground floor is the grocery store and they have this very strange device that is an escalator for shopping carts. You push the cart in and then it goes up by itself while you go up the people escalator next to it.

There were two signs over the bread and pastry aisle that I thought spoke very loudly and perhaps truthfully. Do you think they could put these in the bread aisle in USA and Canada?



It says Industrial Bread and Industrial Pastries. Hmmm.

I went to the museum the Pompidou yesterday to take pictures and as an aside took a few more fashion photos. These girls are really putting on the dog! :)

Parislog 56
September 7, 2006

I finally had my first appointment with the employment office. It was so frustrating. I could answer many of the questions all right but then came the moment. She asked me something that I couldn’t figure out at all. So, I said so, which I often don’t because it is too embarrassing and too frustrating to have to stop people all the time to say that you don’t get it. In this case however, I figured it was pretty necessary. I mean she is asking me things that have to do with my finding a job. So she tries again to explain and again and again. She tries different ways and I am completely clueless. I finally figure out one of the words that she is using and I didn’t get. Society means business.

At one point I think that she is asking me what I can offer to an employer and because I don’t have a resume written down and I know how much of a stickler they are here for diplomas, which I don’t have, I jokingly throw out there because I am brilliant. Big Smile. She laughed but she also blushed a lot. Maybe one isn’t supposed to speak highly of themselves here too like the old Puritanical ways. Don’t say anything nice about yourself. She was funny though and laughingly said, “I know but….” And then she went back to whatever it was that I didn’t understanding in the first place.

She gave me an address to go to in regards to my starting my business in fashion but I haven’t gone yet and I think, in writing this that it is because I was so frustrated again with my lack of language. I want to do my business so badly and I am just so blocked with the language on top of my lack of knowledge in this industry. Argh.

These images are from metro Laumiere. The second was a section of torn of posters under the sign above. I then played with the image.

Parislog 55
September 5, 2006

On Saturday and Monday I went to the Prêt-a-Porter exposition at the Port of Versailles. There were three floors of exhibitors and more clothing than one person could possibly absorb. I did find that I was completely uninterested in the whole second floor because it just wasn’t inspiring to me. I loved the section that was for the new up and coming designers. There were some amazing pieces and overflowing with creativity. I wasn’t sure if pictures were aloud and I didn’t want to get into trouble.

There were runways shows every so often throughout the day also. I went to few of them and got to sit front row at one. You had to arrive over a half an hour ahead of the start in order to get a decent seat. The first one I went to I was standing at the back and that was a bit uncomfortable on the feet plus the person behind me kept on bumping me and I have issues with that. Surprise, surprise.

Before the second show, the guy sitting next to me started chatting to me. He was from India and had a manufacturing business for purses and jewelry. After the show we kept talking and he wanted me to show him the magazines that you can use to get ideas and trend forecasts. I did so but then it started to become a drag because it started to feel like he was just trying to squeeze me dry of information. He kept asking over and over how to use the books for design and then he wanted me to actually give examples and chose the books and help him order. Then he kept on saying the same things over and over to the lady selling the magazines and changing his order every five seconds. I was so done with it. Earlier, I had given him my email because he said he was going to send me something. Oddly enough, I haven’t heard from him.

On Monday I went to another runway show and this time I was sitting next to a guy from Switzerland. We talked while waiting for the show to start and of course I asked him what his focus for being there was. It turned out that he had meant one of the VIP people attending while on the metro and for some reason they had invited him to come and see the expo. He was homeless by choice since February and was just wandering around with whatever came his way. He hadn’t a penny to his name. He was actually very interesting to talk to. But do to the fact that he wasn’t living in a regular situation, he was a little ripe.

I got a lot of pamphlets and other resources and I talked to one woman who worked for a computer program company about my plans. She was so excited and couldn’t wait until I get my business up and running. That was great for my moral and desire to accomplish this.

Parislog 54
September 4, 2006

On the last day of our trip we had a leisurely start to our day, getting breakfast, packing up the car and paying the bill. Then we headed off into the sunrise. It was another incredibly beautiful day. Of course, right after we got on the road, I had to go pee already. Sigh. We had to stop for gas somewhere too as we were at the bottom of the tank. That was getting to be a bit of a challenge. Every little 3-building town that we went through had no gas station. All along the roads there were no gas stations. I think we were all starting to wonder if we would find gas before we ran out. I know I was starting to wonder and wishing that we had stopped the evening before at the station that we had seen. But we were in luck. Finally we came upon a sign for a village that also had a sign for gas. We turned off and followed the road until we found it. I started looking for the bathroom. Not a chance. I got out and looked around while the tank was being filled and I still couldn’t find any. So off we went.

We drove and drove and drove. I just tried not to think about it. What else could I do? We finally got onto the big highway, which was a toll road.

Toll roads are a new thing for me. We are so lucky in the west coast to not have much in the way of toll roads. On this trip we had to take three in each direction. It averaged around 2-3 euros for each one. They are in good condition though and they have rest stops.

So back to my problem. We are now on the toll road, which also happens to be where the rest stops tend to be. The first one that we came to we went past. A* said that the ones without the full service gas and restaurant are not very clean and we should wait for this kind. Uh, okay. So we keep driving. Finally, I* also needed to stop and so did A* so whatever came next was it. It was not the full service kind of stop but there was a shriek from the back that we had to stop and A* pulled over. We go in the restrooms and I came across my first ever, Turkish toilet. I know that some of you already know what these are and I had heard of them but that was it. A Turkish toilet is a hole in the ground that you pee into. This one had like a little ceramic plate around the hole with a raised portion that you put your feet on. I am trying to figure out all the mechanics of this and not get munged. I sort myself out and stand on the little platform and get into position when all of a sudden water starts to pour out of the sides of the wall onto the floor and down the hole. I am not in a position to do anything but try to not get flushed. It somehow\ seems to manage to not come above the little raised footpad so I am safe. I finish my business, get up to go and it does it again. At least the place didn’t stink.

On the road home, we take a side trip to Giverny where Monet had his house and painted many of his paintings. Apparently he came from a wealthy family because the property was huge and stunning. Even though it was not the right time of day for good lighting, I was able to come up with a couple of good photos. Unfortunately it was forbidden inside the house. The dining room was the most amazing yellow all over. Even the sideboards had been painted and the moldings were a different shade of yellow too. The fireplace had delft blue tiles covering the surround that made for a spectacular counterpoint. The walls had Oriental ceramics and paintings all over that were also in shades of blue. The kitchen was blue with blue tiles of many different patterns all over the walls, an old wood stove and copper cookware hanging on the walls. The gardens outside were a riot of color and the Japanese garden was tranquil even with the tourists.

Then back to Paris we went. Entering Paris was in fact, a bit disturbing. After the intense greenery of Normandy, it felt dry and the smog was hovering over our heads like an ugly old blanket. The heat of the city came in waves off of the pavement. And the noise went up by a factor of 10. I got home and put myself to bed. It is so true that one needs a vacation after a vacation.

Parislog 53
September 3, 2006

On the second day of our trip we drove over to Etretat. On the way we stopped at a little tiny town called Yport, walked down to the beach and picked out a beach stone. The beaches are not sand at all but rather pebbles. It is really hard to walk on them because they are all round and roll constantly under your feet as you are stepping. I really thought for sure that I was going to end up on my keister quite a few times. Both A* and I picked out a rock to take home with us. Mine has a hole on one side with a little crystal bed inside. I love things that sparkle.

I also got a chance to get a closer look at the way the buildings were put together in this area. There are houses with a patterned stone face on them. The stone is the same stuff that you find on the beaches and it is used in a very beautiful way. Inside each square made with mortar is a chunk of this silica rock and then sometimes around that is a pattern using red and yellow bricks. It is very unique.

We then went over to Etretat. In Etretat we went to a museum in the house of a very well known French writer, Maurice LeBlanc. He wrote a series about Arsène Lupin, the gentleman burglar. The house has been transformed into a walk through the world of both author and of character and through a narration on a headset you follow some of the exploits of both. It is a blast even though I personally had no reference for the author, it was done in such an engaging way that it didn’t matter. I might even go and read one of the stories. Outside, I got in trouble with A* for walking on the grass while I was taking a picture of a flower. I didn’t see any signs and so I got really flip and was joking around about being a bold American who does what she wants. We walked out and there on the entrance kiosk was a little batch of signs in the international language of pictures including one that indicated not to walk on the grass. Oops.

We then went to lunch as by then we were all getting a bit famished. We walked up and down a couple of streets reading menus going back and forth over a few of them until we settled on Le Bicorne. We went in to a beautiful room with wood paneling all the walls and the windows open wide. The napkins were squares with origami folds that made it look like a flower. Each one had a flower sitting in the middle. After choosing our meals we had to wait what seemed like a really long time and I was starting to get a little antsy and was definitely ravenous by then. At last, however, the food finally arrived and the reason for the wait became abundantly clear. Each plate was a master artwork. I ordered a toasted goat cheese entrée that was exquisitely browned on top and warm and runny on the inside. The first bite was hard to take though because I didn’t want to ruin the sculpture, so instead I took a photo. When the main dishes arrived lo and behold, it was another piece of art. I had salmon and asparagus drowning gently with a scrumptious Hollandaise sauce. There was a little puree of potato and maybe spinach that was divine also. I didn’t order any dessert but the couple and their child at the next table did and again, art. The little girls eyes grew to an immense size as she saw this plate of sweet stuff arrive in front of her and I swear it looked bigger than her. She tackled it with gusto and could barely make a dent. It was too cute.

After lunch we headed down to the beach and the famous cliffs. They are made of chalk that gleams on a sunny day and we had a sunny day. Yeah! Monet and Delacroix have painted here and Alexandre Dumas and Victor Hugo came also. We walked up on the top of the cliffs and looked down those escarpments at great risk. There were signs everywhere telling of the danger both above and below of falling rocks. Standing at the very edge is not recommended but sometimes you just want the photo. There is one chunk that is separate from the cliff called the needle, which plays a big role in one of the books of Maurice Leblanc. From up on top of the cliffs you can get a spectacular view of it and you can also walk down a path into another chunk that is partially separated from the cliff. Don’t get bumped on the way though. It’s a long way down. We sat for a while near the edge, well I did, A* and I* sat a little further back, and we just enjoyed the view. It really was incredible, the white against the blue and the lush green grass.

We stopped in an old market full of souvenir shopping and then headed off to see the Benedictine Palace in Fécamp.

Now I thought that we would be going to the site of the monks and that that was where the liquor was made but in fact this palace was only built in 1876 but a man who found the lost recipe in a book an ancestor had bought. The original recipe of the monks was lost to time until Louis Legrand, having found it decided to see if he could recreate it and a success was created. He built this palace to house the brewery but also to be a tribute to gothic and renaissance buildings and art and it is a marvel to behold. From the minute you step into the building you are inundated with the perfume of the liquor and it never leaves you even to the very end where you get a sample of what you have smelled the entire time. They aren’t cheap with the amount either. It was enough to make my legs tingle, and it was tasty.

Then we went back to the gite for the night, had a little supper at the long table with an elderly couple who had just finished their meal but stayed for the conversation. They were a hoot, very animated and entertaining. I quickly became completely lost however when the conversation became to fast and too layered. There were points when all 4 people were talking at the same time. I don’t know how they had a conversation talking and hearing at the same time. I can’t even do that in English.