An Eastward Homage, Day 7, A Paris Walkabout, Part 2: In Search of Concord

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One of the draws of Paris is the Left Bank of the Seine, the area of Sorbonne, Les Jardins de Luxembourg, and Notre Dame Cathedral.  The Left Bank also features the American Church of Paris and the Eiffel Tower, or Tour Eiffel.  I was able to spend quality time on both banks of the Seine, upon leaving Tuileries.  The place to begin, for me, was Place de la Concorde.  Below are  slightly elevated views of this historic, and bustling place.

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The whole thing with the golden, and the gilded, in this site of compelling history, is that it is only very recently in the scheme of things that the gold has come to belong to the people.  King Louis Philippe I, in the mid-19th Century, found his forebears’ self-obsession misguided, and determined that it was the nation of France, not the king himself, which was due for glory.  Thus, the royal properties came to truly belong to the people. In the midst of Place de la Concorde is an obelisk.  It symbolizes France’s endurance, and was designed to liken the country’s glory to that of Egypt.  Nicknamed Cleopatra’s Needle, the structure was Louis Philippe’s way of showing France, and the world, that the Revolution was over, as it replaced the guillotine that occupied this spot.  In fact, he would be the focus of the people’s anger during the upheavals of 1848, and would leave France again in the hands of the Bonapartes.  Here is the obelisk, which is better than a guillotine, in my humble estimation. SAM_9010 SAM_9012     SAM_9057

As with all Bourbon-era public monuments, Place de la Concorde has its share of allusions to classical Greek and Roman mythology.  We see this abundantly in Tuileries, the Louvre and the Chateau de Versailles.  Here, a cherub blows his trumpet, whilst mounted on Pegasus.    SAM_9005

Andre Le Notre was one of the main architects of Tuileries, and of the magnificence that surrounds the gardens, on both sides.

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Once sauntering past Place de la Concorde, the magnificence continues.  My path took me along the Seine, on the Left Bank, but towards Embassy Row and Le Tour d’Eiffel, rather than towards Ile de la Cite and the Latin Quarter.  Roma people came up to me three times, along the Seine.  Each one would drop a gold ring in the dust, pretend to have just found it, and offer it to me, as a souvenir of Paris, for “petit monnaie”.  I deferred each time, having actually seen them drop the piece.  Here is the Seine, from the Romani vantage point.

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Given the right incentives, I think the Roma make marvelous LEGITIMATE entrepreneurs.  I know a few here in the States who have become so. Next, I came upon an East Asian couple, just married in the American Church of Paris, who were having their wedding photos taken in front of the church.  A few business people insisted on photo-bombing the scene, but I was brought up differently, and kept a respectful distance.  Here is a view of the church. SAM_9031

I turned the corner, past Musee d’Orsay, and headed towards Le Tour d’Eiffel, but first noted this homage to those who worked against the Nazis and their minions, during World War II. SAM_9032

Eiffel Tower is an imposing monument, surrounded by the signature beautiful French gardens, which are everywhere, and always tres magnifique. After a nice “emportee” (to-go) lunch in La Reservee ( the park surrounding the tower), I took photos from the base, opting not to climb the tower, as the lines were long and I had much to yet accomplish in the hours ahead.  Here is a view of the garden. SAM_9035

Now, for some views of Le Tour d’Eiffel, by day and by night. SAM_9036 SAM_9039 SAM_9037 SAM_9056

Equally impressive is L’Arc de Triomphe.  The traffic on Champs Elysees is phenomenal and swift, but I got close enough for several scenes.

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In the vicinity of the Arch, some impromptu dancers were performing, to the strains of Pharrell Williams’ “Happy” and Psy’s “Gangnam Style”. SAM_9045   SAM_9044

After dinner, I ventured back to the area of Tuileries and La Place de la Concorde, for the above photos of Paris by Night, and for the following. SAM_9050 SAM_9059   SAM_9054 SAM_9063

Such was the first, very full day of my first complete day in the City of Light.

NEXT:  A Day in Versailles, Chateau and Town

A Few Words From The Laptop

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Hi, gang.  This is Gary’s computer speaking.  I know, I was a wet blanket on the European trip, but my battery didn’t take well to the wall charging over there, even with the very competent adapter/converter which, by the way, the camera and cell phone liked just fine.  I guess I’m just spoiled.

Anyway, we are back on U.S. soil, having arrived here yesterday afternoon, via Montreal.  Once he and I got to Saugus, MA, last night, Gary plugged me in, and I gratefully recharged my battery. So, with gratitude towards my fellow machines in the European Cybercafes, who kept you all posted on our whereabouts, these past few weeks, I am ready to get back to work on the many,many photo posts that are coming your way- on the rest of Paris, northern France, Belgium, Luxembourg and a swath of central Germany.  We will also have intermittent posts on this week in Massachusetts, especially on the Fourth of July.

So, thanks for your forbearance.  Tomorrow, we will present photos on Place de la Concorde and on Paris By Night.  Hope you will rejoin us.  I know, it’s been a long time.

Sincerely,

Lenovo

Traveling Without My Cyber Friend

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As I am using a borrowed computer, I will make this short.  The battery on my laptop is DEAD, kaput.  You will next hear from me when I get to Amiens, in a few days.  I am in Brest, France at the tip of Brittany, and am using a cyber cafe loaner.  I am otherwise fine, but no photo posts from Paris onward, until I get back to the States on June 29.

An Eastward Homage, Day 7: A Paris Walkabout- Part 1, Tuileries

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I had started Monday, June 2, intending to tour the Louvre.  Several things transpired which made that not practical for this morning, so I switched Monday’s plan with Wednesday’s.  Thus, I spent 2 1/2 hours on Monday morning, walking Tuileries, the gardens and sculpture areas which were the grounds of the Bourbon dynasty’s Paris place of residence. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were confined here, after the Revolution of 1789.

Confinement is a relative term.  The expanse that is Tuileries fronts a greater expanse, that we know today as the Louvre.  Here are some scenes from this fine garden area.  Actually, this statue of Jeanne d’Arc is across the street from Tuileries.

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The scenes below are in the park, though.

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I thought about not including the sculpture below, after being attacked online, as a “misogynist”, earlier this evening.  You know, though, unless a WOMAN comes on here and says that’s how she sees me, I’m not going to change who I am.  A man calling me “misogynist’ is like a white person calling another white person a racist, or a straight person tripping out on another straight’s “homophobia”.  I’m saying it here, all people are beautiful in the sight of God, and using terms of endearment towards people of the opposite gender is not wrong.  Both genders admire each other’s physical features, and both genders, at least among those of good will, value the WHOLE of another person.  THAT is what I believe;  end of rant.

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This lawn evoked “Alice in Wonderland”.

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This grove is indicative of the actual forest of the Bourbons’ time.

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Next, I will share the rest of the walk, at Place de la Concorde, along the Seine and at the Tour Eiffel.

An Eastward Homage, Day 6: To Paris, With An Absent Crowd

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Sunday, June 1 was one of those days that starts out with everything going like clockwork, hits about five rough patches, and then ends with everything silky smooth.  I had no trouble checking out of Q Greenhotel, rode the tram into downtown Frankfurt with a Sri Lankan-German taxi driver, who had the day off (Please, no “Busman’s Holiday” jokes) and enjoyed a leisurely continental breakfast at the Hauptbanhof (Central Train Station), before boarding the train to Paris.  It left a few minutes late, but I was just fine with that, as there were only three of us in the second class train, clear to Saarbrucken.  Here a few of the things we saw, between Frankfurt and the French border.  First, auf wiedershehn to Frankfurt, my first European host since 1982.  You have set the tone, and Europe is less daunting, even for someone like me.

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Forty minutes out, we came to Mannheim.  I was expecting a fairly large contingent of American servicemen boarding here for Paris, but few people came on board.  Here is the Maritim Hotel, one of Mannheim’s grandest.

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West of the large city, the mountains of Baden-Wurttemburg began to show themselves.  There were some mountains in the area, as is pretty much true of all of lower Wurttemburg.  Hikers were out in force, as were filmmakers and barbecue grillers.

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Here is a small parish, east of Kaiserlautern.

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The row houses of Saarbrucken were the the last notable site in Germany, before we crossed the border into France.  It was here that we were joined by about 30 people, most of them academics, who were coming from a conference in Koln.

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I arrived in the Gare du Nord District, in good enough time to get  on my way to my hotel, or so I thought.

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With good directions as to the AREA, I made it easily to Montmartre, which I THOUGHT was the location of Monte Carlo Hotel. I was reassured by a local resident at the base of  the hill leading to Eglise Sacre Coeur that that was so.  All the locals I asked, atop the hill, thought differently.  Turns out the Rue Faubourg Montmartre is a LONG way from the district of Montmartre.  A kind Tourist Office clerk set me straight, though sans street number.  I eventually got that, in a hotel in the 9th Arrondisement (District), that was about four blocks down from the Monte Carlo.  At 5:30 PM, I checked into my cozy room, which is about the size of my old bedroom when I was a kid.

Well, since I was up top on Montmartre, here are three scenes from there.

First, these are the steps.  There is a transom, which I at least used going down.

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Next, here is the goal of the steadfast among us:  L’Eglise Sacre Coeur.

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Lastly, here is the view from the top, which spared me from climbing Le Tour Eiffel.

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I finally made it to Monte Carlo at 5:15 PM.  The first thing I did, once checking in, was find all the remaining hotel telephone numbers on my list.  The Monte Carlo is the last photo on this set.  I know I said two posts would be up tonight, but downward and sleepward.  See you manana.

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An Eastward Homage, Day 5: Germany’s Tank Engine

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Many people have told me that Germany is a squeaky clean country, almost obsessively so.  That is no longer the case, at least with the obsessively clean part.  Around the Central Train Station, at several bus stops, and in some of the large apartment blocks, cleanliness remains a constant challenge.  The CST , or Hauptbanhof (Hbf), is still a very stately place, and a beehive within this greater beehive that is Frankfurt am Main.  Get used to my using the local names of things.  Everyone I have met here breaks out their English, as soon as I speak German (or French, for that matter,) with my North American accent.  It’s important to go halfway with these things, if we are ever to really understand one another.  Still and all, I will carry on here with putting the local term side by side with our English colloquialism.

Here is Frankfurt Hauptbanhof, inside and out.

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I spent several minutes, once disgorged from the speedy train from Frankfurt International Airport, trying to find the bus stop for the route given me at the Information Booth. This is where my fatigue kicked in, and it took three other people being asked, before the Captain Obvious scenario played out, and I was en route to my Saturday night lodging.  I left my bags in the hotel’s safe, and was registered by a rather saturnine desk clerk.  When I returned from the mandatory hiatus, at 2 PM, I saw why:  A group of 75-100 university students were at the hotel for the night, with all that could imply.  The men outnumbered the women, almost 3:1, but I would hear no hanky-panky or excessive noise, during the night.  These folks have built a culture of deepening true friendship, and I hope it continues, without being side-tracked by “real world” distractions.

I walked to the Frankfurt Messerhaus, the city’s major trade and exhibition hall.  On the way, I discovered a small wursthaus (sausage restaurant), run by a couple who are German/Polish.  They have been here in Frankfurt for twenty years, and have watched the world come to Germany.  Indeed, an African woman runs a grocery store, a Sri Lankan man has driven a taxi for  35 years, and East Asian people are everywhere.  We are at the point where EVERYONE is EVERYWHERE, and that’s a good thing, to me.

Anyway, here is the hotel where 200 kids, and I, stayed last night.

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Many German homes maintain the “fairy-tale” quality that places them in so many of the “original” Grimm tales.

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That quality is enhanced by the evergreens nearby.

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Any economic powerhouse needs good parts for its engine.  These parts in Frankfurt are largely provided by the work done through the auspices of Frankfurt Trade Center, or Messershaus Frankfurt.

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Here is a look at downtown Frankfurt’s skyline and a couple of more light-hearted scenes.SAM_8882

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With that, I am tired by today’s long and full series of life lessons.  Tomorrow, a tale of transition between cultures.

An Eastward Homage, Day 4: Leaping over a Very Large Pond

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I had a close call on the night of May 29, just my error of being an inch or two to the left of being in good visual command of oncoming traffic.  No one was injured, no cars collided or left the pavement.   I just needed a reminder of a very important point: Little things matter.

I would be reminded of that fact in two unrelated incidents on Sunday, but getting back to Day 4.  I awoke, with sufficient alacrity that I was going to drive the rental car successfully back to its lot, without damage to any car or any driver or passenger.  I forewent breakfast, save a cup of coffee, until the job was done.  The big thing is, I found how easy it actually is to get to Wyndham Gardens Hotel, near Newark International Airport.  DON’T LISTEN TO VOICES OF DOOM!  “OMG, you’re going to make all those quick turns, with those impatient people, at rush hour?”  Yes, I did, and here’s how to get to the place, if you ever need or want to, from west of Newark:  Take I-78 east to Rtes 1 & 9 South, stay to the left, with the commuting traffic, and exit at Haynes Road.  Take International Way, past the Park and Ride turnoff, and go into the Wyndham parking lot.  Yes, you need to take an entry ticket, but leave it in the car.

I made it to each of my flights, with time to spare.  Briefly, Newark to Montreal left on time and was smooth.   My seat mate was very quiet and seemed as if she were heading towards something WAY out of her comfort zone.  Montreal to Ottawa, via a twin engine prop, left ten minutes late, due to the lingering threat of lightning.  We had it easy, staying inside the terminal.  Three planeloads of passengers and crew waited outside, in their planes.  Once the threat passed, they came in, en masse.  I got a chance to buy a new ballpoint pen out of the deal, by virtue of having time to do an OJ and bound up and down the stairs, with full backpack and bag.  I am getting a lot of weight and endurance training on this trip.

The food benefits are not bad, though.  At Ottawa International Airport, I enjoyed a BLT, with mozzarella sticks on the side, plus the usual fries.  Not Health City, exactly, but satisfying, after a long morning and afternoon.  When I off-handedly remarked to myself that someone had left their receipt unsigned, on the table, Charles, the server, deadpanned:  “That would be the person who sat here before you.”  His service after that little quip was exemplary, though, and was a good send-off to Frankfurt, in its way.  So, too, was this:

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Ottawa has accented its heritage as a gateway to the north country, but with none of the “redneck chic” hokum that undercuts the real fineness and beauty of the area and its people.  The city is no longer in anyone’s shadow.

I had, as seatmates on the Ottawa- Frankfurt flight, a Turkish couple and their college age daughter, who were polite and cordial, but mainly kept to themselves, chatting in German about a variety of subjects,  My TV kept me plenty busy, as did writing in my pen-and-ink journal, which accompanies this blog.  On hand were an episode of “Rookie Blues”, a Canadian police drama, and a film version of the story of Ste. Jeanne d’Arc, whose real story I will view in Rouen, this coming Thursday.  Finally, I was a silent viewer of  “Ronin”, a Keanu Reeves action film, with him as a samurai rebel, or so it looked from where I sat.  Both “The Messenger”(the Joan of Arc bio) and “Ronin” were tales of righteous obsession, juxtaposed with naked self-service and aggression.

MORNING!  The light greeted us sleepyheads, while we were still over England, and just about all of our section had the progress of the flight on our screens, in an “Are we there yet?” fashion.  We arrived, had a smooth landing, went through immigration, in perfunctory fashion, and I was out on the streets of Frankfurt by 7:10 AM, Western Europe/ West Africa time.  It did take me another hour or so to locate the bus to the area where my hotel is located- and that’s a story for Day 5.

An Eastward Homage, Day 3: The Sum Total

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

I had no trouble getting up the morning of May 29, having briefly risen at 3 AM, said a prayer in honour of Baha’ullah’s passing, 122 years ago today.  I thought later that morning of my youngest brother, Brian, who would have turned 50 today, had he not suffered for 22 years and died after 29 of them.

Today on the ground, however, was about the family Norm Fellman left behind, especially his wife, my mother-in-law.  The family is at their south Jersey home, in a place called Vineland.  I had a heart-wrenching visit with my MIL, and will not go into detail as to all she, or her daughter, shared.  .

What were nice were two things:  A walk around their immediate neighbourhood, and the London Broil dinner we had, fresh off the grill.  Wynne and David have worked hard at making the home nice for her devoted mother.  Here are some scenes of home and neighbourhood.  The sum total of this whole trip is the devotion of family.  I have my part to share in this.  It is to visit those sites which Norm and his comrades-in-arms sanctified with their sacrifices, whether by dying or by suffering both internal and external wounds.

For most of us, wounds are hard to conceal.  The pain of loss is felt by all, including the family’s last surviving dog. The window box, though, is a spirit lifter, which Wynne has prepared in her father’s memory.

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We did get a change of scene, by walking about the immediate neighbourhood, which is filled with both architectural and botanical gems.  The first we saw was a red maple, spread fully with stunning foliage, long before Fall.

Here’s a little rabbit, just before Willow charged at it.

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The great forests have nothing on Vineland.

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One of Vineland’s most stately Georgian era homes is now an attorney’s office.  Note the special feature in the chimney.

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Back at the house, it struck me how it is similar, in some respects, to the old house at Longmeadow Farm.  Mom remembers the farm as their strongest dream, and greatest success, as a couple. Joseph Campbell advises us to “Follow your bliss.”  This, the Fellmans did, and in spades.  Now, all of us are protected by a cadre of angels.

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An Eastward Homage, Day 2: Broken Stuff

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Posted by on in Travel

My flight to Newark, from Phoenix via Charlotte, started inconspicuously enough.  We flew out on time (11:40 PM) and I got about four hours of sleep on the first leg of the trip.  My seat mate was a quiet young lady, also concerned with using the dark stretch of  the route for a restorative sleep.

We got to Charlotte on time, and I enjoyed a light breakfast.  Leaving the Queen City, though, was definitely an exercise in patience.  Technical safety issues plagued the lead flight attendant, and it took an hour to get her situated in a flight-worthy jump seat.  No one squawked, for after all, everyone needs to both feel and BE safe- on any public transport.

The delay gave me another hour of sleep, and the flight itself, still another forty-five minutes’ worth of shuteye.  My seat mate for this leg was a very pretty, engaging young lady, M, who is an artist living and working in Manhattan.  We discussed the September 11 memorial and agreed that a Gift Shop, in such a place is a bit questionable, and certainly difficult to pull off.  Time will tell on that last point, but it is not my idea of a proper memorial.

We left Charlotte an hour late, so we arrived at Newark an hour late.  Then, the conveyor belt bringing our luggage to the carousel, broke.  It took about twenty-five minutes to get it up and running again, but this break down in the system got very old, fast.  M had enough on her plate, and I was getting very tired and wished for one thing:  My motel room in Parsippany, and hot running water.

“Not so fast!”, said the Universe.  After I had my luggage in hand, including the “carry-on” that I checked-in, for the Team, at the last minute on Tuesday night, it was time to go get my rental car.  Of course, the Advantage Car agency is NOT at the Rental Car Lot.  It is at  Wyndham Gardens.  It was amazing, the way one thinks all similar companies ought hang together in one spot, but it seldom works that way.  There is always at least one outlier.  Advantage is a nice agency, and gave me a lovely nearly new compact car, for which I asked.  One thing on which they were off was the set of directions for getting on I-78 West.

I never did get on the 78.  The 1 & 9, secondary highways that somewhat parallel the 78, got me to NJ Highway 7, which got me to  Hwy 23, then back to the 46.  I had nothing pre-arranged today, but I am still concerned with there being a striving for accuracy in direction-giving.  The directions I was given had me headed to the Holland Tunnel.  Granted, the Wyndham Gardens is off the beaten track, as Newark area hotels go, but hey, if I can navigate to Red Roof Inn,  in Parsippany, with no GPS- the car rental people can give accurate info.

It ended well, though.  I enjoyed a great corned beef Reuben at Clifton Bagels and Deli, en route to Parsippany, reveled in my return to humanness, once at Red Roof Inn, and had one of the best Fujien-style Chinese meals in memory, at Qin Dynasty, next to Red Roof Inn.  The cook threw bits of well-cooked squid in with my cashew chicken, bringing back fond memories of our Jeju days.

Tomorrow, after paying  early morning respects to Baha’ullah, on the 122nd Anniversary of His Ascension, I will head down to Vineland, NJ, in mid-morning, and visit with Penny’s Mom and sister for a spell.  Their spirits are up and down, as might be expected, but they are far from broken.  Northeast Jersey, you aren’t broken either- so believe in yourselves, and get it together!

An Eastward Homage, Day 1: A More Timely Departure

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Posted by on in Personal goals, Travel

This morning began as most days do:  Prayers, errands and reading the paper, over coffee.  The usual stuff took on more urgent tones, around 9:30, and there were bills paid for June and July, brief visits to a couple of friends and last-minute mailings of various items.

I made the walk to Hassayampa Inn, and a rendezvous with the airport shuttle, in plenty of time this afternoon.  This gave me an excuse to photograph the Hassaymapa’s lovely east courtyard garden.

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The shuttle ride was smooth and swift, and provided a chance to hear the insights of a local pastor/psychologist.  Like me, he is urgently concerned with the mental health and well-being of  the surviving Prescott Hotshot, and of the families of the men who were killed, nearly a year ago.

Sky Harbor Airport was crowded and bustling, at 6 PM.  I passed through security without fanfare, though a book I had just finished, “Touch the Top of the World”, by Erik Weihenmayer, got lost in an unguarded moment.  Whoever has it now is in for a treat.  Erik, a blind man, has successfully climbed peaks as disparate as Everest, Mt. McKinley, Aconcagua, El Capitan and Kilimanjaro, with various teams.   His story should prove inspiring to anyone, regardless of one’s personal challenges.

My new read is “Bunker Hill”, by Nathaniel Philbrick.  This will keep me enthralled, during several flights in the days ahead.  Sky Harbor at night is a different place.  As happens elsewhere after hours. those waiting for night flights gather as a sociable family, of sorts.  The insular crowds of the daylight hours have gone on, and the Redeye Crowd are pumped for their flights into the morning sunlight, or California midnight, as the case may be.

I whiled the waiting period away at Olive and Ivy Marketplace, a nice little deli and pizzeria.

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Well, kids, it’s time to put this computer away, and mosey on down to the gate.  The Queen City, Charlotte, NC, is next on the itinerary, then on to Newark, and a day or two in the familiar climes of the Garden State.

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