My Love....

Yeah, it's happened - I have fallen in love. And, her name - well, if you don't know already - Paris.

Stepping off the train on that early Monday morning we struggled with our bags on the cobblestoned streets and threw ourselves into a brightly lit cafe' for coffee. As we surveyed our surroundings it didn't look like much on a first impression. Later, we would find that our (junky) train station was in a somewhat sleazy part of town that didn't look like anything more than a new york suburb.

After gulping down coffee we headed back to the train station to catch a cab to our hotel. Maybe we could simply stow our bags there until we could check in. The first cab we flagged down - and, believe me - cabbies are not like the "sex in the city" ones that speed up and stop next to Carrie Bradshaw. Noooo! The first cabbie waved us off. The second one pointed up the street at where we were "supposed" to get a cab. (why this one couldn't take us is a mystery -apparently, you had to be standing in just the right spot...) We finally got a cab and of course, he only spoke french. When my sister handed him a printout of the hotel with the address he just glanced at it, growled something in french, threw the directions over his shoulder at my sister and sped off. Ok, here we go.....

He made several turns around the city, went up several streets. Scenery was starting to become more interesting. But, my sister was alarmed because our hotel was suposedly only 1.2 miles from the train station and it looked like we had gone at least 10 so far. We finally went down Rue Saint-Honore' filled with exclusive shops, lights and luxery hotels. My eyes got big and my sister turned to me and said "our hotel is definately NOT in this part of town" The cabbie pulled over and simply waved and grumbled. We handed him the map and tried to explain "we not here" but he again grumbled and waved and went to get our luggage out of the trunk. Apparently, he was over these Americans.

(Now granted he was one of the first french people we experienced that lived up to the sterio type of the french but during our stay he and a bus driver were the only rude french people we ever encountered. We just chocked it up to anyone who had to drive in Paris traffic was bound to be grouchy.)

We stood on the curb transfixed by the buildings and the lights. Yes, this is what Paris was all about. I saw the Mariott hotel and ran over to a door man and showed him our hotel address and asked for directions. He spoke english and said it was only a short walk from there. We were to be near the E'glise de la Madeleine in the Opera district of Paris. We walked to our hotel and every step was a breathtaking view of buildings and lights.

La Madeleine at dusk - our hotel was about 2 blocks from here.

Once we arrived at our hotel we explained that we were very early and could we stow our bags there until check in time. A very polite woman who (thankfully) spoke english said a room was available right then. We were in luck.

After washing off the grime of the train ride (yes, those bunks were very dirty and dusty) we went for a walk and ended up at the Jardins Des Tuileries -which is a huge park, garden - grand by american standards. We saw the Eiffel Tower off in the distance in one direction and the Louvre in the other.

We walked the rest of the day. That evening we were to take the metro to the Le Mariais district for a wine tasting. Don't ask me how difficult it was to get my sister on the metro the first time. Since I have navigated the London underground ("Mind the gap!") this was no big deal to me. Like a dog grounding it's feet into the ground when it knows it's going to get a bath -this was my sister. Finally, on the metro we got off at our stop in plenty of time to explore the neighborhood and find our wine tasting place.

Me "what street is it on?"

Her "100, rue de la Folie Méricourt"

Me "what's the name of the restaurant?"

Her "no restaurant. It's in some guy's apartment"

Me "WHAT?"

Her "Yes. It's in this warehouse and we have to punch in this code to get through the gate and then walk across the courtyard and his place is on the 3rd floor"

Me "What? This sounds suspicious. What if this guy is a serial killer or takes our money or something? Where did you find this place?"

Her "On the internet"

Me "Well, that's comforting!"

We find the gate, and before we can punch in the code some guys carrying guitars punch a button and open the gate. We follow them and they turn into the other side of the building. We see a sign for "O Chateau". Ok, I was starting to breathe easier by this time. We headed up this dark stairwell that smelled like urine, me grumbling "It was on the internet" and my sister laughing. When we knocked on the door it was thrown open by a guy who warmly welcomed us in. We were a bit early we explained and he showed us a bench we could throw our coats and a table to sit down at.

There were to be 3 other couples in the seating that night and we were to taste 7 different wines native to France. Our host was to be Olivier Magny (his first name pronounced oliv-veeae)

who was very charming and knowledgable in wines, had grown up in france and whose family owns a winery. Since he had traveled and lived in California he spoke impeccable english and advertised that his wine tasting experience was also offered in English.

The three other couples showed and were seated and as it turned out they were all from England or around London. Olivier was in his element and good naturedly poked fun at them for their country's taste in wine -which, is quite minimal but who were we to say we all didn't know shit about french wine, it was our desire to and that was why we were all there. Honestly, since I have been to England twice and know the sport of drinking is a gold medal event, I was surprised that the minute the first glass tasting was poured that all the English didn't just down it like shots. In fact, I think all three tables were poised to do so and stopped in mid-air as Olivier started going over the points of the wine, the smell, the "legs" the body, etc.

As we tasted each wine, Olivier would point out on the map of France the region it came from, explain about the grape and what the weather was like in that region and what was typical of the taste of the wine because of that. Typical of french wines was the region it was from and it was named as such.

All in all it was a great evening and much laughter was had -especially, after tasting 7 wines. As we stumbled down the dark stairwell (with 5 bottles of wine between us no less) we realized why it stank of urine was because we all had to pee like racehorses.

Next up The Louvre and Eiffel Tower.....