Paris to Praha
We're in Prague and I'd tell you more except that I can't read any of the signs and
don't understand a word of what's being spoken.
Just kidding...
Paris.
I'll try hard not to go into raptures. Well, that's pretty easy when I remember the deluge
that threatened to spoil the weekend for us. Where's Noah when you need him?
My cousin Emile hopped over Friday night for the weekend from London and we sure had a
lot of fun. First we tortured him by making him drag his bag through the streets of the
Marais for a concert, then for dinner, and then home on the Metro with a stop by the
Eiffel tower for some nighttime shots. Then, to complete his experience we made sure he
had a migraine Saturday morning and by special arrangement with the 100 levels of French
bureaucracy we made sure he got sopping wet.
Well, something like that. Let's start off with the concert. RGK and I
had been serenaded the night before at St. Severin (along with hundreds) by a European
orchestra playing Beethoven etc. for free. Well, sort of for free. You didn't have to pay
to get in but the basket came around and whether you're Catholic or not, the guilt will
get you every time. Friday night was the harp concert again in a church again for free
again with the basket. Harp concert you may ask. Yes, in fact not one harp, not two, not
three but six harps all played by women (I don't think a man would have the patience). The
program included selections from Debussy, Bach, Bizet, Ravel and Rameau. It was fabulous.
Dinner, Parisian
style -- it was 11:00 p.m. -- was at Le Relais du Massif Central and what a meal it was.
Madame's ample bosom -- the kind that enters the room first -- and substantive hips -- the
Mediterranean kind that you are either blessed or cursed with --were testament to the
cuisine.
Now, as I've told you before, when I travel it's not all about food and wine -- it's
about great food and wine.
Back to
that deluge for a moment. As most of you know, I've given up coffee -- a principle that
I'm able to adhere to pretty stringently in Vancouver and one that I'm more than willing
to compromise on in Europe. You just can't sit in a Parisian cafe and order mint tea --
it's so, just so bourgeois. If you're true to the Paris style, it's a petit cafe noir; the
kind of espresso that rivals black ink in colour. Us wannabe north Americans, it's a cafe
au lait or as RGK insists, a cafe creme. So, blame it on my unexpected burst of caffeine
energy, but when we got to the Tuileries with the intent of going to the L'Orangerie and
it was raining, I decided that the only approach was a sort of La Dolce Vita one and made
like some sort of mad mountain goat, running through the park deliriously, jumping over
puddles and ignoring RGK's agonized cries of "You idjet, you're going to a get a
cold!" I hate it when he's right. The museum was closed. In fact, RGK and I
accomplished what I would have thought was nigh impossible -- a week in Paris and not one
single museum or gallery visited.
But, I'm rambling. Not only am I in a Czech internet cafe, but it's only one of several
we found listed in a magazine. This is one hip city. Not that that's based on my
observations -- we haven't done anything yet -- it's just something in the air. Given that
RGK is passionately mad, obsessively consumed by Paris, should make it interesting to see
how Prague stands up in our estimation. I've thought often of Dani and Omar this morning
-- almost every corner store has hockey cards with Jaromir Jagr and Dominik Hasek on the
front. (Way to go Canucks -- thank God for USA Today; we were in an advanced state of
sports deficiency syndrome.)
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Well,
at the risk of imposing on your time too much, I'll sign off. Let me just emphasize what a
relief it was to get off at the Praha Holesovice train station last night at 11:33 p.m.
and actually find our hosts waiting for us. Jiri and Alena were wonderful -- they picked
us up and drove us to
the apartment, lingering over cake they had bought despite the late
hour to give us a bit of an orientation. It's a wonderful apartment within a 15 minute
walk of the City centre and just two blocks from the Globe Cafe and Bookstore. It's an
English bookstore and helped to ease our transition into life in Prague.
Cheers to all (this
beer is yummy) and we'll touch base soon.
Cheers,
Reema
email Reema at rfaris@saraphina.com
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