The Loire, the Politics and the Nightclub

Bonjour mes amis!

I am pleased to announce that Holly's birthday was a BLAST. We began the day with a jog through Paris. One thing to note is that Parisians don't jog. In fact, they don't seem to exercise at all. Here, you don't see gyms, or workout clothes for sale. As the book I am reading points out, ugly jogging pants offend the beauty of Paris... Regardless, Parisians' slim figures still boggle my mind. I know - you're thinking they walk everywhere. Perhaps. But they also take the Metro, drown their meat and fish in buttery cream sauces, use only whole milk, sip coke (never diet), eat baguette for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and enjoy their wine throughout the day. We're clearly doing something wrong in the States.

All of that aside, Holly and I got over the fact that people glared at our jogging outfits with disgust, and began her birthday with a jog. I knew exactly the route I wanted to take. We entered the Louvre through its eastern courtyard, which empties into the the main entrance, where I.M. Pei's glass pyramid greeted us glittering against the early morning sun. It pointed a perfectly straight path for us through the Tuillery Gardens, the Concorde and the Champs Elysees, directly to the Arc de Triomphe. At one point, we rested near a pond where a white pelican danced for us as if on stage. Sheer bliss.

Her birthday was a gorgeous day, with crystal blue skies and radiant sun. After our jog, we dressed for summer elegance in white linen, flowy tops and oversized sunglasses. We felt... well, Parisian, and relished in it. After a bit of birthday shopping, we went to Montmarte (not to worry - we took the Metro this time), where we lunched on sweet salads with warm goat cheese and several glasses of crisp white wine. After some ice cream and a stroll, we enjoyed more wine before clumsily making our way back to the apartment, where Holly promptly... PASSED OUT! After several hours, (in addition to a slight buzz, she still had jet lag,) I tried waking her, but she shooed me away. Famished, I finally gave up and went for Chinese takeout. There, I met an unemployed 33 year old french economist who explained to me the merits of not working in France. This was quite an education. He apparently makes 80% of his previous salary, therefore affording him the ability to indulge in 2-3 movies a day and as much Chinese takeout as he wants. As he pointed out, with such a good life, why would he work? He has a point, but I still don't understand how this is good for France's economy, so I shoot off questions, which he considers rudely American, so thankfully, Holly rescues me just in time, appearing at the Chinese restaurant doorway spry and on the hunt for me - and food. Turns out that she also awoke famished, and realizing that she only had one hour left in her birthday, she decides that she MUST see the Eiffel Tower. And so we left the unemployed movie-going, Chinese-eating economist, went for yummy pizza, and set out for the Eiffel Tower at 12:45 am (technically no longer her birthday, but all the same.) We hopped onto the Metro, noticing fewer and fewer people at each station. Well as it turns out, this is because the trains stop at 1:03 am, which is precisely the time when the last train drops us off at the Eiffel Tower, which we cannot see, because as it so happens, the Eiffel Tower turns off its lights at midnight! Who knew?!? Well this makes us laugh hysterically. We end up at a cafe for dessert where I sing to Holly as she makes a wish on a toothpick posing as a candle, (the French are not so into birthdays, we found out,) before heading home for the night.

The next day, we set out for a trip to the French countryside to meet a potential business contact Holly found online. Vianney invites us to his home and insists that we stay the night with his family in Vouzon. Though I am a bit hesitant about sleeping in a stranger's home, trapped without transportation should we need to run for our lives, this journey is about living freely and fully, so I agree to go. I am so glad that I did. As it turns out, hospitality is just a thing Europeans do. Vianney, his wife, Sylvie, and their daughter, Caroline, are lovely, lovely people who opened their home and hearts to us. Insisting that we see more of France than just Paris, they drove us through the countryside, taking us to the small town of Blois, and to Chambord, the largest Loire Valley chateau where the French government still hosts galas for foreign prime ministers. The couple cooked us an extravagant four course meal with three bottles of wine that began with Champagne, followed by moist meaty fish swimming in a buttery shallot sauce so good that Holly and I sopped it up with bread until there was no more, and ended with an array of fresh goat, brie and Roquefort cheeses. And this isn't even the best part...

The best part was that for the first time in France, I REALLY got to practice my French! Sure, I walk into bakeries every day and masterfully order my croissant and coffee, sure I can ask for directions and prices, and make small talk with the gent next to me at a cafe. But usually, my awkward French is met with English response. Few people here actually let me speak French. But in Vouzon, our host family barely spoke English. Though this worries me at first, it delights me in the end. Often, we carry on conversation in French and I become the translator back to Holly. It becomes, "Frenglish" if you will, and this is beyond delicious! This is sheer joy. I am actually able to carry on a real conversation. We even discuss politics - Bush, and the war, France, and its economics. Actually, after my conversation with the movie-going, Chinese-eating unemployed economist, I am now very interested in French politics, and the economics of Socialism. Vianney and Sylvie can't wait for Sarkozy's new labor policies to take effect. Like many of the French, they feel France has become stagnant after 20 years of socialism, and its current 35 hour work week - stuck in its pretty, yet stoic history, as if trapped in a beautiful painting, unable (or unwilling) to advance with modern times... and therefore, unable to compete globally. For hard-working honest businesspeople, this is naturally a concern. When back in Paris, Holly and I begin to notice that even the architecture reflects their concern. In London, you find many modern buildings amidst the historical landscape. Striking a balance between preservation and advancement, the British seem to use their country's rich history as a foundation from which to evolve and grow into the future. You don't see this as much in Paris. In stark contrast, it seems to be grasping onto its glory days. As a tourist, this is what makes us adore Paris. It is romantic. It is an escape. It is an illusion. This works for tourism, but not so much for global economics. A Frenchman I met today told me he's worried that Paris is becoming like Venice - a tourist trap rather than a leading European capital. Interesting... However, one thing to note is that Parisians do seem to enjoy life more than we do - they spend their evenings with friends and family, rather than blackberries and the office. Vianney and Sylvie want better labor policies, but they don't want a 60 hour work-week. Can there be balance somewhere?

The last bit I will share about my time with Holly is that on Saturday night, we finally went clubbing! Though on the plane to Paris, Holly sat next to (get this-) a French RAPPER who filled her in on the hot spots for Parisian nightlife, his suggestions either got lost in translation, or he enjoys a different type of club scene than we do... Fortunately, Vianney told us where to find the "IT" club. (Apparently, this is where Sarkozy held his inaugural bash!) With an hour long line at midnight, and a bouncer who seemed to randomly discharge perfectly adorable people, this club was clearly THE place to be. But getting in would be a challenge. Holly found us a cut through the line, but then we had to get through the bouncer. In front of us, VERY cute girls who told the bouncer they knew so-and-so inside were shooed away like flies. So I panicked - If they knew someone and were sent away, I figured there was no way that Holly and I were getting in. I used my best thinking and quickly unbuttoned my jacket and fluffed my hair... We got in!! Haha!! Inside was a loud psychedelic maze - a gaudy mix of disco balls, velvet, and pink and purple fluorescent bulbs bouncing smoky, hazy light off the stone walls. It was as if Austin Powers regurgitated all over the place and never returned to clean it up... More than 1000 Parisians packed the club, dancing in go-go boots and thick headbands to a horribly cheesy DJ who mixed the Greatest Hits of the 60's and 70's with what must be current French rock, but sounded more like the Monkeys dubbed in French. Though Holly and I swore we were in the Twilight Zone, we loved it, and danced until 3 am, at which time, there was STILL a 30 minute line to get in...

On Monday, Holly left and I joined my cousins, Stacy and Scott, for a road trip through the Loire Valley. The first order of business was to get out of the city in our rented car. If you've ever driven in a foreign country, you understand this challenge. Not only could we not understand the road signs, but they each seem to point in contrasting directions for the same destination! This remained true for the next 2 days. And to top it off, within 5 minutes in the car, a troop of 3 policemen on foot (yes, on foot,) pulled us over. They immediately let us go, and thankfully, Scott, our resident historian and driver extraordinaire, has a great sense of direction. Though we had a few frustrating mishaps - a missed exit here, going the wrong way on a one-way street there, he masterfully found our way out of the city, to all of our intended destinations, and back to the car rental counter in Paris last night.

While in the Loire, we took it all in. Fields of red poppies, expansive farms and vineyards engulfed us, then would disappear as the road narrowed into small villages where medieval homes were built into the caves of the mountains, and "small" chateaux stretched high above towering trees. We followed the Loire River and watched it shape the towns. The first day, we visited Villandry, a chateau in the western portion of the Loire, known for its expansive gardens. Scott is a gardener and as Scott and Stacy have been planting tomatoes and peppers, strawberries and flowers, Villandry was a must-see. More than 9 gardeners design intricate geometric landscapes of hundreds of vegetables and flowers semi-annually, changing seed with the season. While there, we collected rose petals for our scrapbooks - soft memoirs in fuschia, blood red, tangerine, and sunshine yellow. We marveled at their beauty over dinner - a leisurely meal with four courses including foie gras, duck, veal, steak, a luxurious array of soft cheeses, and decadent creme brulee. We ended the day at our bed and breakfast in Amboise, an intimate inn decorated in soft buttery yellows that was built in the 16th century and now rests on a pond surrounded by roses and lavender.

The next day, we enjoyed flaky croissants with homemade jam for breakfast before heading to Chenonceau, a chateau first built before the 11th century, then given as a gift from Henry II to his mistress in 1547. Its interior was stunning with hand-made tapestries adorning walls that stretched high to gilded ceilings. Bridging the river below, a long tiled gallery lit by more than a dozen arched windows once served as a ballroom for royalty, and a hospital during World War II. We then visited Monmoussau winery in Montrichard, where we toured the caves in which they make "Traditional Method" sparkling wine, (aka: Champagne, but in France, only Champagne made in Champagne can be called Champagne) and then enjoyed tasting sweet and brut wines on their sunny hilltop patio which overlooked green pastures freckled with Spanish-rooftop cottages below. After a lunch of omelets, steak, and crepes, we ended our tour of the Loire with a stop at Chateau du Clos Luce, the home in which Leonardo da Vinci spent the last 3 years of his life; now a museum paying homage to the extraordinary man, featuring recreations of his pre-dated machines, famous paintings, and rooms in which he lived and worked.

As you can tell, it has been a very busy, yet wonderful week. After 10 days of traveling and spending time with friends and family, I am now back in my Paris apartment, ready to relax and enjoy my last week here. I plan to go to the French Riviera on Sunday and Monday, so I'll try to send a short blog before leaving. Until then, I hope you have a wonderful few days. Please be well and send greetings to all back home.

All my love,
A bientot,
Carin