Friday, October 18, 2013

Arrival in France


France

The crystal clear air of the west coast of France was the first thing we noticed upon exiting the Chunnel.  I’m not much for tunnels and it appeared that the trip thus far had been almost nothing but tunnels, so bright sunshine was a welcome relief. We arrived at Gare du Nord right on time, stopping not with the belching of steam from the huge engine, but rather a whimper as the big electric engines shut down.

There are six major rail stations in Paris and two of them, Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est, compete for being the worst in France. Whereas there are some stations such as the Gare de Lyon that are attractions unto themselves and draw lots of tourists and locals with their architecture, restaurants, bars and shops, Gare du Nord encourages those arriving to get out of the terminal just as fast as possible.  And thus it was upon our arrival: Instead of a slow walk to enjoy the arrival, most of the passengers reacted like cockroaches insulted by bright light and scampering for the nearest exits. We resisted and decided a strong coffee before our drive would be a good thing.  It was not. The coffee was horrid - served by two Chinese ladies who didn’t care for their jobs - we were accosted twice in three minutes by gypsies and bums, and were only too happy to make our way down to the rental car counter and the relative peace and protection it offered from the action on the main level.

Renting a car in any country is always fraught with anxiety and mystery.  You are never quite sure what you are signing, what your eventual bill will really be, and how much money they will ‘hold’ on your credit card until you return the car.  We managed all the paperwork and headed to the designated elevator to go down six levels for the vehicle.  We were grateful for the elevator since we had luggage to deal with, and yet they found a way to have a set of stairs that had to be negotiated when we exited the elevator.  We inspected the car for damage as best we could in the dank gloom of a poorly lit basement that had the distinct odor of urine before driving up the seven levels to daylight. 

Cindy is an excellent navigator and had things that she could control, under control.  While it was only 3:30 pm, there was so much traffic that I was never able to get out of second gear for the forty-five minutes it took us to drive two miles to reach the ring road around Paris.  From there the sailing was much easier if not a bit more thrilling as I tried to react and anticipate the French driver, something I doubt I’ll ever master.

Our destination was a hotel /restaurant I had discovered on the Internet which looked lovely and I was able to get a really decent rate for the room.  It took us about an hour and a half after getting on the fast road, the Seine River guiding us on our right.  The hotel, Domaine de la Corniche, was exactly what we needed to get us back into all things French. It is an old, well-maintained manor house that sits high above the Seine.  Our room was petite to say the least, but had a large window overlooking the river. We had to make appointments with one another as to when we wanted to cross the room or use the bathroom, it was that small, but the bed was firm and there was much to do outside the bedroom. 

We dressed for dinner and went to the lovely old bar at 7:30 for a glass of ice cold Champagne, which was accompanied by a little tray with three tiny mouthfuls for each of us.  One was a quail yoke, lightly cooked and sprinkled with paprika, the other a small warm cheese tart and the third a small spoon filled with a puree of smoked fish and tuna crouton.  Things were starting to look wonderful.  We reverted to our old ways of eating in France when the dollar was worth something and we ordered the full set menu, washed down with a bottle of white Burgundy, St. Bris, and a half bottle of chilled Beaujolais Village.  I’ll not bore you with details other than to say that the chef was really creative and the presentations were as delightful as the taste of the various courses.  We ended with some Remy Martin cognac in the bar and toddled off to bed.  During the meal my stomach was questioning every course and became very confused when the food kept coming.  We have been almost abstemious in our eating over the past four months, getting fit and trim, but the allure of a traditional French dinner did me in.  I suffered the next day for a few hours before we were able to burn most of the meal off, but oh my, it was well worth it!  Cindy did not seem to suffer these ills and claims she paced herself.  Tomorrow it is off to Giverny!  Cindy and Wm

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