Paris in the Spring time - Part 2

A feature of this Paris trip, which made it particularly enjoyable, was getting together with friends.
The first set of friends we met up with were the Epsteins. We had lunch with David and Rona at an Italian restaurant on the very charming Rue Pot de Fer, a narrow, cobbled lane off Rue Mouffetard. This little street is lined with an assortment of modestly priced restaurants. Perfect weather allowed us to experience that quintessential Parisian experience of dining outdoors in a vibrant atmosphere. We had a terrific onion soup, followed by a mediocre pasta fetuccini. We caught up on all that had happened since we’d last seen them.

After lunch we strolled to the Luxembourg Gardens. Rona and I discussed my plans for writing a book on how to teach creative writing to kids. She was full of enthusiasm and encouragement for this project. At the pretty crowded  Luxembourg Gardens Rona took us to her favorite fountain which she explained was the Cyclops looking down on a pair of lovers. When we arrived at the fountain with its stunning sculpture she realized she had been mistaken. That giant was no Cyclops. We learned later that it was in fact the Medici Fountain and the sculpture we had been looking at was of the giant Polyphemus looking down at a pair of lovers. I’m always enriched after a visit with David and Rona, a couple we’ve known for a long time and who are very dear to us.

We had plans to spend an afternoon with a close friend of my very dear LA friend, Caroline. Caroline spent most of her childhood and college years in Paris. She and Jean Michel met at pharmacy school and remained good friends through the years. Unfortunately, Jean Michel had to be hospitalized for an ear complication the night before we were supposed to meet up. So that was all quite unfortunate.

We were, however, fortunate to spend a few hours with his daughter, Laureline. We had met her last summer when she came to California and stayed with Caroline for two months. Laureline is a pharmacy student and was in the middle of taking exams the week I was in Paris. She took a few hours off her busy schedule to visit with us. We had aperitifs at a café oozing with character in the Latin Quarter. This café, in a centuries old building, was on a quiet, narrow, cobbled lane off Blvd. Saint Michel. It was refreshing to talk to a young native Parisian, raised with values I respect, and who cares about making a positive contribution to the world.

I had the pleasure of entertaining Gilles and Cecile Darmois, the owners of our apartment. They had invited Daryl over to their place a couple times for a meal. He appreciated their hospitality and returned the favor by inviting them over for a meal at our place during my week in Paris. This couple had lived in various countries in the world, including the Middle East. They enjoyed international cuisine, especially spicy food. So Daryl and I though a vegetable biryani would be the perfect dish. We’d planned this before I’d left Santa Barbara so I brought along freshly roasted biryani spices acquired from my buddy, Premi.

Preparing a meal meant food shopping, something I hadn’t done much of since arriving in Paris. We ate out a lot, on the lively terraces of restaurants, due to the warm weather. Shopping at French farmer’s markets gives me enormous joy, so I embraced this opportunity. I had noticed that the Rue Cler and Rue Mouffetard markets weren’t yet in full swing. But the Port Royal market exhibited the typical French market scenario that I so adore. All your senses are indulged with the enormous variety of not just fruit and vegetables, but also cheeses, olives, breads, wine, and even a Lebanese food place featuring a huge selection of cuisine I’d never seen before. Because it was just the start of spring the produce selection was pretty limited. I was surprised to see that a lot of it came from North Africa. The vendors were really friendly, and happily spoke to me in English. I had the impression that they enjoyed the opportunity to practice their English. I found a reasonable selection of vegetables – green beans, potatoes, cauliflower, peas, and carrots. The spinach looked attractive so I bought a couple bunches for a soup to be served as the first course. I left the market satisfied with my acquisitions.

It took me a few hours in our tiny, and very limited kitchen to prepare the meal, but by 12:30 it was all ready to be served. Gilles and Cecile arrived exactly on time. They were a most entertaining couple with lots of stories about their experiences of living abroad. They loved meeting international travelers and now they run a bed and breakfast to nourish this pleasure. Entertaining Parisians in our little apartment definitely made me feel like a local briefly.

Of all the people we met and spent time with, the Maupou family was certainly the highlight. I hadn’t seen my friend, Venita, since the early ‘90’s so it was really special to see her again. We met her French husband, Alain, and their two delightful, beautiful children, Charles and Dilva, for the first time. Our common experiences of having Indian ancestry, growing up in apartheid South Africa, and living our adult lives as expatriates in the west have led to a bond between Venita and me. I have a lot of respect for her. She was not afraid to break with tradition and the pressures of the Indian community in Durban, South Africa. She followed her heart in her academic pursuits, studying languages with a passion that resulted in her being a truly international citizen, at home in just about any country in the world. But, apart from her impressive accomplishments, she’s just a great person to hang out with. She is full of joie de vivre and she is so thoughtful and considerate.

Venita and her family live in the 5th arrondisement, so it was a short walk from our place to theirs. Daryl and Alain got along really well too. The great chemistry between us all resulted in joyful shared moments. Venita and Alain totally indulged us. We had lunch at their place on Saturday. Venita prepared a delicious salad of marinated courgette, roasted pinenuts, and other vegetables. This was followed by an eye popping cheese plate that wiped out all my progress toward veganism.
We talked politics through most of the meal. The next day was the official start of the presidential campaign. Alain was actively involved in the campaign of one of the candidates – the centrist Francois Bayrou. The economy was a key issue. So was the muslim immigrant issue, especially as the Toulouse school killings had just occurred. After lunch Alain suggested taking us out for a drive into the countryside.

It was of course, a beautiful sunny day and a drive out of Paris was most pleasant. We went to see a Medieval Castle called Pierrefonds – an hour north of Paris. We past the oldest forest, the Compiegne, en route. The castle was restored by Napolean and looked quite stunning. Not far from it was a pretty lake that we walked around. The sun was low in the sky, a calm, peaceful time of day. Daryl and Alain were having an animated discussion about the possibility of intelligent life on another planet. Daryl told Alain about Stephen J. Gould’s books and this got the two of them on to more common topics of interest to them. Venita and I discussed our integration into our adopted countries.

After sunset we drove back into Paris and had dinner at an Indian place on Passage Brady in the 10th Arr. This narrow lane lined with cuisine from all parts of India buzzed with ambience. The food was pretty decent too. After dinner Alain took us for a drive around Paris. He grew up in this city and knew it well. We stopped along the canal and took in the party like atmosphere. Then Alain drove us down the Champ S’Elysee, past the famous, Michelin starred Fouquets where Venita was going to dine a week later. We cruised along Rue de Rivoli, along the Seine, past Opera Bastille, back along the Seine, admired the lit up Eiffel Tower, then down Blvd St Germain. They finally dropped us off at our doorstep around 1:00 AM.

We saw Venita and Alain again a few nights later at their apartment. Alain introduced us to Burgundy Marc, a mellow and rather potent nightcap. We talked about living in France and what the Nice area would be like for us if we moved there after retirement. We drifted to other topics like the state of education around the world and the upcoming French presidential elections and so on. Somehow the topic of champagne came up. A dismissive remark by Daryl about this drink, resulted in them extolling the virtues of expensive champagne. Nothing under 50 euros was worth drinking. Next thing we knew they invited us back to their place on our last evening for a “champagne dinner”.

The Saturday evening of that dinner, Daryl got a cold and felt he needed to stay at home and rest before the long flight home the next day. C’est dommage! That Saturday evening that I spent with Venita, Alain, Charles, and Dilva was one I'll never forget. Venita went to great trouble to make sure that everything about the meal was perfect. The placemats, candles, dinnerware, and pretty flowers were all carefully selected to create an ambience of spring’s arrival and of celebration. The champagne? Veuve Cliquot. Tres magnifique! And what a spread! Venita prepared a selection of spring vegetables, each in a unique way, from different regions of France. There were wild mushrooms, white asparagus inside puff pastry cases, endives, and incredibly flavorful potatoes called rattes du touquet. The bread was some unusual braided baguette. Then, as if all of this wasn’t lavish enough, the cheese course turned out to be a unique experience for me too. For the first time in my life I got to indulge in the prince of all cheeses – Mont d’Or. You do not serve other cheeses along with this beauty. Served warm, it is soft, velvety and delicate in flavor. Oh, how can I ever be a vegan? Please tell me the cows responsible for this cheese are well looked after! Mont d’Or is made from raw, unpasteurized milk, so it is definitely not available in the US. Charles made light, fluffy crepes for dessert. What a perfect meal. What a remarkably wonderful family.

Daryl and I are incredibly fortunate to know so many wonderful people all over the world. We feel so much a part of the international community because of this.

Paris in the Spring time - Part 1

Spring break for me has traditionally meant catching up on home and garden chores. I’ve never thought of this week off from teaching as actual vacation vacation time. But for the last three years circumstances propelled a break in tradition. Mexico City two years ago, South Africa last year, and this year Paris and Italy. Daryl spent winter quarter at the Institute Henri Pointcare (IHP) where he was involved in a special session in his field. After a nearly three month separation I’d be reuniting with him in Paris for the final week of his sabbatical. Italy got into the plans because my book group came up with this crazy idea to meet up at the home of one of our friends in the countryside outside Florence. We dutifully selected Galileo’s Daughter to discuss while in the part of the world where Galileo had come up with his invaluable contributions to our civilization.

I fully understood that this Paris trip was going to be different to my previous visits to Paris which were always in the summer when I was in full vacation mode, and expected total enjoyment in the city of lights (or is love?). This trip in late March meant finding pleasure in winter activities. I packed woolen base layers, warm sweaters, and my down jacket anticipating cold, grey, drizzly days.

I was looking forward to the brief experience of “living” like a local in Paris. Our apartment was at the border of the 5th and 13th arrondissements, on Rue Glacier, a great location to be based for a week (or three months as was Daryl’s luck). The universities and IHP were nearby. So was the Latin Quarter and my favorite street in Paris, Rue Mouffetard. Daryl and I had plans to get together with various sets of friends just about every day that week. We also had tickets to see Don Giovanni at Opera Bastille as well as for the Moscow Ballet Company’s “Swan Lake”. In my free time I’d go to a few art museums and I also had to make time to read Galileo’s Daughter for our book group meeting the following week in Italy.

But Paris had other plans for me. The weather turned out to be bizarrely warm – I mean summer warm - the entire time I was there. My clothes and shoes were entirely inappropriate. But, oh, I was in ecstasy. The streets buzzed with students and tourists, and the cafes were crowded and full of atmosphere. Spring time beauty – trees coming alive with green shoots and fragrant blossoms, golden daffodils, and pretty white narcissi added their spell. So, I ended up spending a lot of time out in the glorious sunshine, wandering through various neighborhoods, absorbing the charms of this fabulous city. It's fascinating to find yourself in 19th century broad Haussmann boulevards with their four storey buildings, then suddenly you're in medieval parts with cobbled, pedestrianized lanes and centuries old buildings. And all the time 21st century Paris hovers over you.

On my first day, after a lunch of soft, ripe Roquefort, a green salad, and crusty baguette washed down with bubbly Vouvray (a selection Daryl made after careful research), at our rather cute apartment, we took a leisurely walk around the left bank. We strolled down to Rue Mouffetard, and the first thing I saw was a Starbucks Café. Jesus, did that irritate me! But this atmospheric, cobbled street with its gourmet chocolate boutiques, boulangeries, fromageries, and wine stores quickly restored my euphoria.
We entered the Latin Quarter which was mellower than I’d ever seen it. From Blvd. St. Michell we  strolled along the Seine, then crossed the bridge to Notre Dames, and hopped over to the Ile St. Louis. I recalled my first time on this island, back in the early ‘90’s when I met a fantastic friend while dining alone at a restaurant. We walked past the overhyped Bertholli’s and debated whether to get a gelato. We decided to save our indulgence for a café stop. Minutes later we found the perfect cafe to rest our now weary feet. It was right near the bridge linking the Seine’s two islands.

I had a kir and Daryl had a rosé. The sultry evening, still bright (sunset was after 8:00), stunning views of the Seine and Notre Dames, and the satisfying feelings of the two us being together again after close to three months, made this moment one to treasure. The great cafés of Paris. A reason unto itself to be here.

Days later we had another beautiful café moment up near Sacre Couer. After climbing up steep streets to Sacre Couer and enjoying superb views of the city, we worked up quite a thirst. We walked down to Butte Montmarte, an area of cobbled lanes lined by ancient buildings and small cafes. We found the perfect café terrace for a drink, right across from the famous La Bonne Franquette, a restaurant frequented by the famous early 20th century artists. Daryl and I enjoyed a kir in this charming setting of old Paris.

On the topic of café moments I should definitely mention my delightful afternoon on Rue Mouffetard. It was the day before I left for Italy to meet up with my book group. I was only half way through Galileo’s Daughter , so I planned to do nothing but read the book that afternoon. The glorious weather made it obscene to be indoors in our apartment. So I did the civilized thing of sitting at an outdoor café on my favorite street in Paris reading my book, while nursing a rosé. Even though I was completely swept into the world of rennaissance Italy and Galileo’s dilemma of having to disagree with the Catholic Church, I was aware of the pleasant atmosphere on Rue Mouffetard. People were out and about, shopping at the various specialty stores. The street was colorful with the outdoor displays of merchandize. I was so glad for the excuse to participate in this atmosphere.


On the cultural front we had good and bad experiences. Don Giovanni, at the Opera Bastille, was a modern take on the story. We weren’t enthralled with this interpretation. The opera was set outside a tall office building in La Defense and the actors were dressed in contemporary clothes. Don Giovanni was portrayed as a homosexual, evident when he kissed Leoperello. We both thoroughly enjoyed the singing and acting, and in the end that is all that’s important to me. I also enjoyed the venue, a rather modern building on this sacred spot in this ancient city. From inside the views of Paris at dusk were terrific. I was surprised to see people dressed in casual clothes. Though it has to be said the French have a way of looking elegant even in scruffy jeans. I guess this “dress down” attitude is a reflection of Francois Mitterand’s goal of opera for the people, as opposed to the past when the main opera venue used to be the Opera Garnier, frequented only by the upper classes.

Swan Lake performed by the Moscow Ballet Company was a disappointment. The venue was a small theatre near the Galleries Lafayette. We got off the metro and found ourselves trapped in this gigantic department store. After going up and down sets of escalators we eventually found the street and shot over to the theatre. We found the performance ok, not great, but passable. However, the big disappointment was the absence of a live orchestra. We’d seen an outstanding performance  of Swan Lake by the St Petersburg Ballet Co. years ago in Santa Barbara. We’d also seen a superb Swan Lake in Oxford, England. So we had pretty high expectations, but, oh well, c’est la vie.


I ended up going to only one art museum, the Museé D’Orsay. Since I’d visited all the famous museums on previous trips, I had no real regrets there. We spent a blissful Sunday afternoon immersed in French Impressionism. It was especially enjoyable because we took Rick Steve's guided tour of the museum. (I have his very informative Paris guide in my kindle.) Not only do I love all the art at the D’Orsay, I also love the layout and the building itself. Daryl enjoyed the van Goghs. My favorite were the Degas paintings.


The most enjoyable aspect of my week in Paris was meeting up with friends who we rarely see.  I have so much to say about this that I’m going to do a whole separate blog about it.
Stay tuned for Part 2!

Thanksgiving Weekend 2011

One of the reasons I love going to the gym pool (apart from the endorphin boost) is the company of people who share my hatred for winter and the holiday season. In the Jacuzzi this morning – Black Friday – my companions grumbled about the pointlessness of Thanksgiving, the insanity of Black Friday, followed by the craziness of the next few weeks leading to Christmas. And like spoiled, entitled kids we whined about the absurdly pitch black darkness descending on us at 5:00 P.M. and the chilly nights, that required us to turn on our central heating. We’d just swum in a deliciously heated pool and were relaxing in the Jacuzzi under a cloudless sky. The air temperature was mild, almost spring-like. Yes, we can swim in an outdoor heated pool everyday, and yes, mild, sunny days are the norm here in the winter. We, Southern Californians, expect this, in the same way people in the tropics expect hot, humid weather.

Our Thanksgiving Day this year was low key in an appealing sort of way. Our friend, Olivia, came over midafternoon. We had martinis and played Scrabble. Later, we went over to our friends, Premi and Sri, for the big meal. I roasted brussels sprouts and butternut squash. Daryl made pumpkin pie. Olivia prepared greens in her Southern (but vegan) way. Premi made soya kebabs in a spicy, tomato sauce. A truly satisfying meal. The wine, a Syrah from Paso Robles was excellent – smooth, full bodied, and slightly fruity. Sri’s mom from India and a few other relatives joined us. After dinner we watched a video of Premi’s and Sri’s wedding, which was very well put together by Sri’s brother in law. It was as good as a nontraditionalist would want of a Thanksgiving. Mellow, pleasant, and a shared gratefulness for caring friends and warmth and shelter.

I can’t believe 2011 is almost over. Wow, sure feels like I’m on a high speed train. A third of the school year over already. This year I’ve had the easiest start to the school year ever. I have an adorable class of eight year olds. On the first day of school I asked them what they knew about me. I expected them to say, “You’re from Africa. You’re a writer.” That sort of thing. But what did they say? “You’re the best teacher. You’re smart. You’re funny.” I looked at them suspiciously, they had only just met me (!),but their faces were dead serious. Flattery was clearly an unknown concept to them. I knew right away I was going to love these kids.

In two weeks we’ll be boarding a plane to South Africa. Christmas holidays in the southern hemisphere is like a concentrated dosage of Prozac. Looking forward to seeing Mum who has had a tough year dealing with health issues. We’ll be landing on her birthday. It’ll be the first time since I left South Africa that I’ll be celebrating my mother’s birthday with her.

Normally I would be dreading the upcoming weeks – colder, shorter days, taking us into the depths of winter. But the anticipation of another tropical Christmas (we’ll be on the coast north of Durban) keeps me on a high.

Berlin

I found Berlin, a new European city for me this summer, to be quite fascinating. So new in so many ways, yet you’re immersed in its past as you traverse its streets. I learned that the world’s top architects have been shaping the city in the last 20 years. The result: amazing 21st century buildings all over the city. I was able to get around the city easily because of its fantastic public transportation, especially the S-bhan. I was really impressed by the bicycle lanes – wide, separate from car traffic, and present everywhere. Bicycle hire places were also everywhere. A city designed for the car free! I loved it! 

I haven’t travelled much in Germany. Years ago I had some memorable adventures (aren’t you dying to hear about them?) in Cologne and Munich, leaving me with a positive “I must return here for a good time” impression of the country. But somehow, I never managed to return to Germany until this summer. I went to Berlin to spend time with my Sydney brother and his family. Julia grew up in Germany – the former GDR - and visits her family every summer. Fabian, my nephew, turned 5 the day I arrived in Berlin. So my German visit started with a big birthday celebration!

It was a cloudless hot day on the French Riviera when I boarded the plane for Berlin. I landed in a drenching downpour. Despite the disappointing weather I had a lot of fun at the German style party. My brother, Max, warned me that hardly any of Julia’s relatives spoke English so I might get bored. But I sat next to Julia’s friend, Maraika, and her mom who were both fluent English speakers. They had traveled a lot in the US, and shared entertaining stories with me. Through them I learned more about what it had been like to live in the GDR. They told me about their move to the “west” – West Berlin- and how alienated they had felt. The materialistic west with no strong sense of community had shocked them. They had then moved to Florida where they found the warmth and friendliness more familiar to them. Yes, I do mean that penis shaped state (no offence!) between the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. Go figure!

Fabian’s party started in the middle of the afternoon. People sat around tables inside the tent. Coffee and cake – many, many types, all homemade and excellent – were served. Most delicious of all were the black cherries that had been purchased from a local farm that morning. These cherries were crisp, sweet, juicy, and hopelessly addictive.

As evening approached Monica, Julia’s mom, and Max opened up the champagne. This led to the next phase of the party. The barbecue was fired up for German wurst and other meats. We were served white asparagus soup to start. I can’t even begin to describe how incredible it was. Everyone was amused when they saw me raving about the soup. They told me they had this dish all the time during asparagus season (May and June). It was early July, pretty much the end of the season, so luck played a role here. To accompany the barbecued meat, there was a variety of salads, grilled vegetables, and an assortment of cheeses. Wow! 

The party went on to about midnight. 

The next day Max, Julia, Fabian, and I took the train from Julia’s family’s village into Berlin for a three day visit of the city. We stayed at the Scandic Hotel in Potsdamer Platz. This area used to be “no mans land” during the Cold War and was a derelict wasteland at the time. Now it is a ritzy, bustling area with glamorous skyscrapers and shopping centers. 

I began my official sightseeing on Museum Island. The collection of famous museums here and the breathtaking Berlin Dome make you fully aware that you are in the Old World. A sharp contrast to the 21st century Potsdamer Platz where our hotel was. It was a cold, rainy day so taking in the vast collection of antiquities at these museums was quite ideal. At the Pergamon Museum, I found the Pergamon Altar and the Ishtar Gate to be every bit as impressive as advertized. (Why are these treasures here rather than in the countries from where they were excavated? Why are the Elgin Marbles and Rosetta Stone in the British Museum?) I saw the stunning Nefertiti’s bust at the Neues Museum, and got my fill of Greek and Roman sculptures at the Altes Museum. By the end of the day I felt completely saturated!

On my second day Max, Julia, Fabian, and I started the day at Hackescher Markt, a charming square with some terrific restaurants. At the 1840 Restaurant we had an absolutely amazing breakfast. We ordered three plates. Each came with a generous assortment of yummy things – bread rolls, fruit, eggs, cheeses, spreads, quark, croissant. We had a long, leisurely breakfast, catching up on family gossip and the stuff going on in our lives. 

After breakfast we went separate ways. I took Bus 200 to the Brandenburg Gate, the most iconic Berlin sight. Yes, it was quite special to see it in real life. I loved the sculpture at the top – a horse drawn chariot pulled by Victory. I then decided to look into a walking tour I’d heard about, which left from the Starbucks (Grrr!) across the square. It was a “free” tour to all the main Berlin sights. “Free” meant that the guide was paid by tips – whatever you thought the tour was worth. Since I hadn’t brought a guide book, I decided to join the tour. The tips based idea turned out to be a great concept. Our guide was most entertaining and informative.  We saw these highlights:

1. From the square in front of the Brandenburg Gate, the guide pointed out the American Consulate (it was the 4th of July, though nothing seemed to be going on), the Frank Gehry building next to it, and beside it, the Hotel Adlon. 

2. The Holocaust Memorial designed by Peter Eisenmann – 2,711 concrete slabs of different heights in rows. Walking through this felt spooky!

3. The site of Hitler’s bunker, now a nondescript carpark

4. The Disneyfied Checkpoint Charlie

5. Remnants of the wall – nothing special, like an old, old high garden wall. 

6. Gendarmenmarkt – a beautiful square with a pair of identical domed cathedrals (French and German) and the Koncerthaus.

7. Berliner Dom – this renaissance style building, the most prominent in the city, was like a magnet to me. I couldn’t stop staring at it. I kept clicking my camera in an attempt to capture it and embed it in my mind. So hard to believe that it had been completely destroyed and rebuilt as recently 1973.

8. Lastly, the guide pointed to the TV tower, another prominent feature of Berlin’s skyline. He told us some story about it being built by the East Germans to prove their technological prowess. But the shadow of the cross from the Berliner Dom was visible on the building every afternoon which caused some embarrassment to the atheistic East Germans! (I think I have this story right!)

At the end of the day I joined Max and Julia at the hotel. We drank some German red wine, which was surprisingly really good. Julia was tired and didn’t want to go out to dinner. So Max and I went off for a night out. We returned to Hackescher Markt, an area that seemed certain to have a good atmosphere even in the cool drizzle. We sat out on the terrace, shielded from rain by awnings, and enjoyed a pretty decent meal. I’d ordered a leek tart and was surprised to see a pizza like dish appear. It wasn’t bad though. 

As Max and I sipped wine in this beautiful Berlin square, waiting for our tomato soup, I had to smile as I thought about the journey that brought us to this point in our lives. Here we were, so at home in a European city, at a restaurant that we selected based on how pleasurable it would be rather than our budget, and discussing the possibility of me retiring in the South of France. How far we’ve come. Max is living his dream. He has a successful business, a beautiful home, and a loving family. I am so proud of him.  

We had to break through a lot of prison walls to get to where we are in our lives. The prison of poverty. The prison of our poorly educated, conservative community. The prison of Ladysmith, an intellectual wasteland. And of course, the prison of apartheid South Africa. Poor and black (technically Indian) in apartheid South Africa. 

I remember a conversation Max and I once had when we were both dirt poor university students. We were at Durban’s beachfront waiting for the rest of our family who had gone off to see something. The heat beat down on us and on a wild impulse I suggested we get ice creams from the Carvel that happened to be right next to us. Oh god, I recall how sensational the ice-cream was. Then Max said, “Something tells me this was an extravagance.” Too true! Every guilt-ridden lick reminded us of how little money we’d had. But we were earning degrees and someday we would be middle class. I said, “I can’t wait to not have to count pennies.” His response was, “I want to have enough money so that I will never have to look at price tags.” And that summed up the difference between us!

The next day, my third day in the city, we had breakfast at a bakery near the hotel. German bakeries are a feast for the senses. Everything looks homemade, fresh, and irresistible. Breads of different shapes are studded with seeds and grains. Pastries are filled with fresh fruit and creamy things like quark and custard. The variety, catering to every need and taste, is staggering. I had an apple filled pastry which, though tasty, tasted more like a dessert than a breakfast bread. The coffee was strong and good. Julia and Max said they’d go sightseeing with me for the day. First on my list for the day was the ornate Reichstag, the great building where the bundestag meets. We hoped to go up the dome for the famous views, but after standing in a long line for a while we found out that only people who had prebooked a tour online could go in. Darn! Well, at least I got a close up view of the beautiful building. The modern glass dome – designed by Norman Foster – is supposed to be a must-see from the interior.

Next on my list was the “Memory Wall”, aka the East Side Gallery. This is a section of the Berlin Wall with a series of political paintings by famous artists. I enjoyed seeing the paintings and got some good photos. At this point Fabian had done enough sightseeing so we went separate ways for lunch. I had a fine Vietnamese dish at a vegetarian restaurant called Samadhi. This restaurant had a huge variety of Asian food and is a great example of Berlin’s international food scene.

After lunch I strolled along the Unter den Linden – the Champs Elysees of Berlin – and admired the graceful buildings along it.

I spent the rest of the day exploring the pedestrianized lanes of the Nikolaiviertel area, then wandered over to Alexanderplatz, where I had coffee and cake at a really nice bakery. I should say, finding a really nice bakery in Berlin is never a challenge!. The day was sunny and warm and Berlin had a friendly, uplifting ambience. In the evening I went for a beer and light dinner at a restaurant in Potsdamer Platz. It pretended to be a beachside café with beach type chairs set up facing an artificial lake. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it!

My day ended with babysitting Fabian, while his parents went out for a night in the town. I told him stories about the Greek Heroes to put him to sleep. Turned out he had quite an insatiable appetite for stories, leading me to create highly embellished versions of the Labors of Hercules! 

And so by sheer coincidence I began and concluded my Berlin visit with Ancient Greece as the subject!

Summer Vacation - Part 2

I get enormous pleasure from riding high speed trains in Europe. We took the TGV from Paris to Nice early Saturday morning (at the end of June). I found it so relaxing to sit in comfort and absorb the pretty French countryside. Alighting at the Nice station we were immediately enveloped in Riviera warmth and bright sunshine. (Paris was pleasantly cool.) We picked up our rental car, programmed our GPS and drove along the bass corniche to Antibes, our base for the week.

We know the French Riviera pretty well now. It's become our favorite place for a holiday. The place has all the ingredients for enjoyable days - produce markets, excellent cheeses, wines, warm, sunny days, the inviting Med., cafes, scenic drives, beauty, quaint villages, etc., etc. We were joined by two families: Daryl's sister's family and my sister's family. Because there were so many of us we rented two gites right in the old town of Antibes.

Antibes is such a charming place. I love strolling through the old town. The beaches, the port, and the walk down to Cap d'Antibes are all quite enjoyable.

We cooked lots of delicious food, drank gallons of champagne and wine, pigged out on cheeses, swam in the delightful Med. everyday, and savored the company of our families. On one of the days Daryl and I had a free morning together so we drove into the mountains and explored a few villages. In the stunning, perched village of Gourdon we found the perfect place for lunch. We sat on the terrace, and over warm goat cheese salad and crusty bread, enjoyed jaw dropping views of mountain slopes and valleys.

After a luxurious week of sun, sea, and sand, we all went off to different destinations. Pam and family went to see our cousins in Amsterdam. Daryl went to England to see his brother. And I flew to Berlin to go to Fabian's birthday party.

Halfway through Europe Holiday

I'm at a bed and breakfast - optimistically called Sunnyside B&B - in Yatton, a village just outside Bristol. It's currently home to close to half the Cooper clan, so we're having a good old time hanging out with rellies. Last night we met Saffs' partner, Gwen, for the first time and over a great dinner prepared by Saffs (quinoa salad and soya patties) we got better acquainted with her. It's been quite a jolt to see the kids towering over us and having adult conversations. How did that happen? Everyone seems to be making smart choices regarding their education and the future, which we found quite reassuring.

It's been an action packed two weeks in Europe. A couple days in Paris, then a week on the Riviera, four days in Berlin, and now in England. Having seen Woody Allen's MIDNIGHT IN PARIS a couple days before arriving in Paris I was all primed for a romantic experience. I was not disappointed. Pam and family met us at our hotel on the first day. We stayed at the Hotel Beaugency near charming Rue Cler and fairly close to the Eiffel Tower. A good choice of hotel, though not terribly central to the main sites.
Taking in Paris with kids presented a different way to enjoy the city. Kimi (aged 7) and Keayen (aged 11) are pretty easy kids to travel with. They'd just had 3 full days of Disneyland and were ready for something different! We strolled along the left bank of the River Seine and got on to the Isle de la Cite where we showed them Notre Dames. They loved looking at the gargoyles. From here we sauntered to the Pompidou Center, took the escalators to the top and enjoyed the views of Paris. We had an excellent pasta and pizza dinner at an Italian restaurant close to the Pompidou Center.

On my first morning in Paris I loved exploring the neighborhood around our hotel in search of the perfect cafe for coffee and croissant. We had almost instant success since Rue Cler, a narrow, cobbled lane was a two minute walk from us. There's a daily market on this road and the cafes lining the road were all delightful. After a rather satisfying cafe creme and croissant we equipped ourselves with French SIM cards and went off to the Eiffel Tower. It was a thrilling experience for Keayen and Kimi, despite the endless line. Afterwards we had a sumptuous picnic lunch at the nearby park. White nectarines, cherries, baguette, cheeses - hmmm ...

In the afternoon Pam's family dutifully braved the Louvre, hyping up the Mona Lisa to the kids. Daryl and I walked around the left bank and made a few cafe stops. First we stopped for an espresso at a modern 21st century cafe. Everyone around us spoke English. Turned out the owner was a young Australian lad who told us all about how it's so hard to find good coffee in Paris and how he was trying to change this! We nodded and smiled politely.

We all met up again at Place Concorde, metro-ed to the Arc de Triomphe and strolled along the Champs Elysees. Pam and Indrasen enjoyed looking at the shiny, expensive shops. The kids were happy to lick their gelatos while their parents dreamed of the day they could shop on this boulevard!

We ate another fine dinner (Thai) in the Latin Quarter to finish up the day. Daryl and I usually research restaurants when we are traveling. We'e learned not to be random about this. This time, however, we decided to be relaxed about this. So we were pleasantly surprised that both meals, randomly chosen, turned out to be pretty decent.

And that ended our short Paris visit. Daryl will return to this inriguing city for the first 3 months of 2012. I'll join him for a week when I have my spring break.

In my next entry I'll tell you all about our week on the French Riviera.

Summer; ergo Europe

We leave for Europe tomorrow. Two days in Paris - just enough time to absorb its atmosphere. Then a TGV down to Nice for a week long stay in Antibes by the beach accompanied by an assortment of relatives. Berlin is next to celebrate my nephew’s 5th birthday. England is my last stop. Kenilworth, Bristol, Cambridge, then 9 days in lovely London. Summer vacation, ergo a trip to the Old World! I feel I’m entitled to it after a frantic year of force-feeding nine year olds with knowledge and skills designed to turn to them into proper capitalists. Admittedly my “different” views must hinder their journey, but, I digress. Europe. It’s remarkable that I’m so at home there, despite being monolingual! I’ve come a long, long way.

I remember my first time in Europe, back in the ‘80’s just after graduating from university. I landed in Rome after a ten hour overnight flight from South Africa. I’d never been abroad before. I was only just becoming aware of a world outside my provincial community which existed within a very confined territory (literally and figuratively). I was truly clueless. I was going to be in Italy for a week – en route to the USA – and I had no guide book and no map. Maps? I’d never used one in my life. In fact, maps were totally alien in my community. I did however, have a youth hostel card – something my travel agent equipped me with. So I knew I had to figure out how to get to a youth hostel and somehow I also knew I first had to get to Rome’s central train station.

I was full of apprehension as I made my way out of the airport and into a train that took me to the central train station. Thankfully at the station I spotted a tourist information office. I remember being so surprised at how friendly the TI folks were as they explained the metro stop for the youth hostel. I exchanged traveler’s checks for lira, and bought a metro ticket which turned out to be really expensive because I didn’t wait for my change! The ticket officer counted out the coins first, and before he could hand me my bills I was already on the escalator down to the platform! My first subway train ride – wow, it was fast!

I was so happy and proud of myself when I arrived at the youth hostel. But when they told me that there was no availability at all I was shattered. I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t planned on this possibility. I didn’t know what to do. Of course, I was traveling on an extremely limited budget too. I sat on a bench outside the youth hostel and felt sorry for myself. I was thousands of miles away from home for the first time in my life. I didn’t know a soul. I didn’t speak the language of this country. And I felt exhausted too, since I hadn’t had much sleep on my first ever international flight. What was I to do? I was close to tears.

I returned to the central train station and went to the TI office. A very helpful lady asked me what my budget was and then suggested a place which she circled on a city map of Rome. I was both relieved and worried as I left the station. I scrutinized the map wondering how to translate this two dimensional representation of Rome’s streets into a 3D reality. Then a well dressed young man came up to me. “You looking for place to stay?”
“Yes.”
“I take you to pension.”
I had nothing to lose so I decided to follow him. Ten minutes later we arrived at a charming old building. We walked up the marble steps and as soon as we entered the building all of my apprehension vanished instantly. A stout middle aged Italian woman with the sweetest, warmest smile extended her hand to me. Coming from apartheid South Africa I wasn’t used to strangers, especially white people, embracing me in such a welcoming way. When I found out that the cost was $15 a night I was overjoyed. Then I discovered the concept of the pension – budget style accommodation. I was shown to my room. There were six single beds. On one of the beds a young woman was sound asleep. I loved the place even more. I had no idea that this type of thing existed – where you basically rented a bed in a room that you shared with other travelers. There was one bathroom shared by 10 people – both men and women. The place was clean and the décor was quaintly old Europe.

Within a few hours of being at the pension I met my roommates. They were all in their early twenties. Two women were from Sacramento, California, one was from Australia, and one from Argentina. I was relieved to be in the company of English speakers. They were super-friendly and invited me to do things with them. I was amazed at how savvy these young people were. They all had guide books (Let’s Go Europe) and maps and were very clear about the sites they wanted to see. They also knew how to travel on a budget. For lunch we bought fresh, crusty bread, cheese, and fruit. For dinner we mostly ate take-out pizza which was always yummy. As we traversed the narrow, cobbled streets of Rome I got to know my roommates better and thoroughly enjoyed being with them. The Australian, Mary, was on a one year trip around the world and she and I became quite close in our brief time together. The very first famous monument I visited was the Coloseum. In the ‘80’s it was free to see it and it consisted of just a semi-circular wall. But it looked pretty impressive all the same.
I fell in love with Rome’s beauty and elegance. Ornate old buildings with impressive columns, lively squares, beautiful fountains, and eye-catching sculpture all over the city. I visited the Vatican and saw Michaelangelo’s famous ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I discovered gelato and capucchino.
It was April and the temperature was perfect – a bit cool, but very comfortable. On my first evening I was surprised that it was still light at 8:00. “They’ve switched to daylight savings time,” I was told. Another brand new concept to me. Wow, the world outside South Africa was so much more sensible!

After three days in Rome all my roommates were moving on to new places. It made me sad to see them packing their bags. The Californians suggested I go with them. “Sorrento is on the Amalfi Coast. Supposed to be beautiful there.” I realized I’d seen the highlights of Rome so why not explore a new place? So I packed my things and joined them on the train journey to Sorrento.

Sorrento’s beauty took me by surprise. The town was very much smaller than Rome, but oh so charming, right beside the magical Mediterranean. We stayed at the youth hostel here. It was dirt cheap - $5.00 a night. We spent an exhilarating evening walking around the narrow, quiet streets and ate dinner at a real restaurant. The next day my friends were taking the train south. They were going to Greece next. They suggested I take a ferry to the Isle of Capri for the day. I was alone again and of course, nervous. But my confidence was building up and I found it quite easy to work out logistics. Before getting on the ferry I bought my lunch (bread roll and mozzarella) from a small, but well stocked store. The ferry was huge – the biggest boat I’d ever been on. It was a smooth, quick ride to the Isle of Capri. I had no real expectations of this island. So imagine my surprise when I got off the ferry! The turquoise of the Mediterranean seemed unreal. And the steep, sheer cliffs of the island took my breath away. A funiculare took me to the top where more jaw dropping beauty greeted me. I remember the first thing I did was to sit at a central café to take in the island’s charm. I ordered an orange juice. It cost $5.00! I nearly died. That was my budget for the day! I got a map from the TI and strolled around the island. About an hour into my walk I ran into Mary. She gave me a big hug. Together we explored the island. At lunch time we went into a park to find a nice place to sit and eat. Two American women – a mother and daughter - struck up a conversation with us along the way. They invited us to join them on their picnic lunch and shared their wine with us. The mother had recenty visited South Africa so we got into an involved conversation about apartheid. Their knowledge and understanding of racism really impressed me. I had such a great time. How was it that people, white people, outside of South Africa were so friendly? To be treated with such respect and as an equal just flummoxed me. After our long lunch I returned to Sorrento by myself and actually spent the evening alone for the first time since arriving in Italy. The next day I returned to Rome by myself, found my pension easily and spent the evening alone, exploring the area and taking in Rome’s vibrancy.
What a week! What an unbelievable, wonderful, unforgettable week!
And now I pack my bags and hope that the next weeks will bring fulfilling memories too.