We had planned to go backcountry camping at Point Reyes to celebrate Noam's birthday, but as the weekend approached, I realized with our upcoming Russia trip, there was no way I would be able to camp all weekend and keep my job. In the category of worst wife ever, you may recall that last year we camped at Yosemite for Noam's birthday. I had promised him a birthday dinner of steak but ran out of time to go to the grocery store, and instead served him weenie mac. This year, I managed to outdo myself yet again - instead of camping all weekend, we worked instead! It ended up being an okay birthday, in addition to work we managed to squeeze in breakfast at Krispy Kreme, a shopping trip to the REI garage sale (where Noam got squat and I got new-used skis), and a sunset ride at Henry Coe followed by Sonic Burger. Beautiful light at Henry Coe:
We managed to find all my favorite flowers, woodland shooting star, owl clover, and mouse ears. I think these are hollyhocks:
Monday, May 24, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Montmartre, April 11, 2010
Saturday we drove from Aix back to Paris, ditched the car at Charles de Gaulle (good riddance), and took a taxi to Montmartre. In Aix I *loved* going out every morning to the boulanger and trilling "Bonjour Madame! Un pain au chocolat et deux croissants!" in my faux poseur French singsong. I know it was wrong, but it was so fun. So, we rebelled against the 15 euro breakfast at the hotel, and I brought some pastries back to the hotel. Coffee-to-go, however, could not be found, so our first stop on the tour of the day was a cafe around the corner for cafe au lait. Mom and Roberta were delighted to discover that it was the Cafe des Deux Moulins, the cafe in the movie Amelie. Mom and Roberta with Amelie:
Coffee fortified, we headed out and wandered up the hill toward Sacre Coeur. The Rick Steves guidebook I borrowed from mom was from 2007 and was kind of crapping on Montmartre as being a bit seedy. I suspected gentrification had set in a la Times Square, but not entirely, as evidenced by this crack pipe we noticed on the sidewalk:
Coffee fortified, we headed out and wandered up the hill toward Sacre Coeur. The Rick Steves guidebook I borrowed from mom was from 2007 and was kind of crapping on Montmartre as being a bit seedy. I suspected gentrification had set in a la Times Square, but not entirely, as evidenced by this crack pipe we noticed on the sidewalk:
View of Paris, sort of, from Montmartre:
Right around the corner from Sacre Coeur is the Place du Tertre, lined with cafes and absolutely jam-packed with artists eager to sketch your picture. It was still early enough when we got there that there were few people to sketch, so the paint-splattered artists were still relaxing and drinking their coffee:
We made the obligatory pass by the crowded and apparently urine-drenched Sacre Coeur (man, it stunk on the plaza in front of the basilica), then headed off to better-smelling environs on the back side of the Montmartre butte. Mom, in front of the Lapin Agile, one of the cabarets attended by the likes of Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec, still going:
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