December 1999

I CAN’T BELIEVE I LIVED THROUGH THE HOUSE BUILDING AND GOT RID OF THE CONTRACTOR THREE DAYS AGO. I HAD TOTAL BODY COLLAPSE TWO DAYS AGO AND LOOKED AT SANDRA IN PROFILE AND SAID TO HER “YOU ARE VERY PRETTY”. IT’S GOOD TO DO NICE THINGS BEFORE YOU DIE. THEN MY HEART WENT INTO DYSRHYTHMIA—IF I HAD BEEN RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT OR A SPORTS PERSON I WOULD HAVE BEEN HOSPITALIZED AND EVALUATED FOR DRUG USE. BUT I WAS JUST TOTALLY WIPED OUT AND MY EKG WAS NORMAL EXCEPT FOR AN OCCASIONAL MISSED BEAT. I TOOK LOTS OF THE RIGHT MEDICATIONS, WENT TO BED FOR 20 HOURS, STILL DIDN’T THINK I WOULD LIVE BUT BOARDED DELTA FLIGHT 810 AND:

To quote the doctor in the classic Frankenstein movie—“He’s alive!! He’s alive!!” ...The house building—our love nest—was very hard on Carl. But if the holidays in Paris can’t cure what ails you, nothing can. I’m banking on the City of Lights to work it’s magic and mend Carl’s body and soul. The newspaper says it’s snowing in Paris—I’m excited. Carl worries he’ll fall on the ice. For such divergent personalities, we sure make great traveling companions.

Friday, December 24

It is now Friday Christmas Eve and as you’ve noticed several days have gone by without any entry. Pour quoi? (That’s French for ‘why?’—Just showing off a bit)...Carl and I have both been ill. His is of a more serious nature--irregular heart beats which started in earnest a few days ago—we’re sure it’s related to stress of house building. Once we made it to the hotel he literally collapsed and was in bed all day. He couldn’t help me lift my small suitcase with rollers up the subway stairs...three strangers had to help me...About that time, the flu hit me. I had a cold before the trip and I deluded myself into believing that cold would safeguard me from the flu that was going around, but I was wrong. Fever-fever-fever. So here we are in Paris spending our first days in bed, sick. Carl usually doesn’t give credence to my illnesses, but this time when I didn’t eat for a whole day despite being tempted with all my favorites—ham and cheese baguettes, coca cola, French pastries—Carl figured I must be on death’s doorstep. We’re feeling a little better now so I’ll catch up on what happened from our departure to the present.

Security concerns are worldwide during this Millennium. Ever since a terrorist was caught smuggling explosives into Seattle from Canada, there is increased concern for the U.S. and its citizens. The State Department keeps issuing warnings advising Americans to be very careful if traveling abroad and really recommends that one stay at home. Too late for us—our plans were made over a year ago and we are going—[once before we changed our plans (last December when going to Egypt because Clinton bombed Iraq) because of State Department warnings. We should have gone then.] But we’ll be cautious even in Paris. There was an extra pilot on-board...this was probably in light of the security concerns and the aftermath of the recent Egyptian Airline disaster when one pilot was on a suicide mission and took control of the plane, killing everyone. The flight was pleasant; comfortable because we had bulkhead seats giving us more legroom; the flight attendants were nice. We changed planes in Cincinnati—again uneventful—we were able to arrange our tickets so we again had bulkhead seats for all remaining segments of the trip. The flight to Paris was again uneventful—so far everything running smoothly.

UPON ARRIVAL IN PARIS WE EASILY CAUGHT THE AIR FRANCE SHUTTLE TO MONTPARNASSE...WE BOUGHT “PARIS VISITOR 5 DAYS METRO PASSES” AND IMMEDIATELY CAUGHT THE METRO TO OUR STOP “ODEON” WHERE WE COULD BARELY CLIMB UP THE STAIRS TO THE EXIT. CARL COULD NOT HELP ME, BUT THREE STRANGERS CARRIED MY SUITCASE AT DIFFERENT POINTS UP THE STAIRS. WE WALKED DIRECTLY TO OUR HOTEL DAUPHINE SAINT GERMAIN DES PRES AND CARL DID NOT LIKE ANY OF THE FIRST FIVE ROOMS HE LOOKED AT...WE SETTLED ON NUMBER 68 WHICH DIDN’T HAVE OUR USUAL VIEW OF THE EIFFEL TOWER, BUT HAD A SEEMINGLY LARGER BED.

Carl became so fatigued from the decision-makings that he really collapsed and sent me away for anything to eat. I returned with a ham and cheese baguette expecting to find him dead, but surprise, he was counting his pulse and breathing at the same time...He then slept for five hours while I sweated and sweated and didn’t eat a thing. All of this was on Wednesday, December 22, 1999.

At night, the dead Carl decided to walk and I his vampire mate for eternity walked with him to Saint Severin for Mass—of course the evening stroll involved a stop at Chez McD where Carl ate a hamburger and salad and I barely sipped two tiny drops of light Coca Cola.

Hotel Dauphine continues in the finest tradition of “Fawlty Towers”. (We’ve stayed here four times in three years—wow—we have seen so much of the world in that time—Carl stayed here once before without me.)

Valerie has left to open a cheese shop outside of Paris with her boyfriend—we wish her success—if it were closer we’d stop in....I’m sure she’d smile and talk and talk and talk and let us sample everything even if we didn’t like some of it. Sophie had a baby and is on a two-month maternity leave—is Sophie married?? We don’t know. The owner’s daughter, Veronique, is pregnant—she was to have gone to London to open a hotel there—we don’t know if she is married either...Such a scandal even by French standards. Patrick the night man looks worn—his father died of throat cancer after a nine-year battle—his mom has “accepted” his death after forty years of marriage. I find that hard to understand—I wouldn’t accept Carl’s death easily after seven years of being together--and we’re not married YET.

Speaking of marriage, we had planned to tie the knot in Paris but there was a residency requirement, which squashed our plans. We then contacted the Italian Consul who told us bans of marriage had to be posted in the public square for a few months before any wedding. We next tried the liberal Swiss and found besides needing a copy of one’s birth certificate, an original notarized two weeks before the wedding and lots of paper work regarding former marriages—you then needed to find a town magistrate to marry you and he’d charge between $100.00 and $1,000.00—let’s all guess what they all charge!! And then the marriage might not be legal in the U.S. The English also had residency requirements as did the Spanish. So our marriage plans are on hold—we’ll have to do it somewhere in the USA—at least the license won’t be such a big deal.

Wednesday morning—this has all seems to read mixed-up, but that’s how we felt...so this breakfast morning was back at Chez McD. I still have no appetite—Carl forced me to eat... The weather is cold at 40 degrees with a light of moderate rain and light to moderate wind. We have our new umbrellas, mine is hot pink so Carl won’t lose me and his is a dark purple because it’s “manly” without being black. We both have our long woolen coats—the fabulous Perry Ellis bargains we got at Ross a few years ago. We are wearing scarves: mine with matching hat from Oxford trip; and Carl wears silk long johns, a sweater, and his blue jacket under his long coat. I don’t know how he can move!! The streets of Paris are quiet, unlike other years at Christmas time. The Buci shops have few customers even though their wares of shellfish, meats, pates and pastries look and taste as wonderful as ever. The Galleries Lafayette isn’t crowded; there is King Tut mime in front of the store and an organ grinder with a cat and a daschund snuggled in a blanket awaiting coins. The cerise lights of yore on the Chestnut trees are gone; this year a blue and white display of lights blankets the trees...We’ll see how they look at night.

We stop by Notre Dame where they have cleaned its façade as has been done with the stature of St Michel, the Opera Garnier and the monuments at the Place de la Concorde. The city has been spruced up. We think the years of grime had added a “feeling” to the city, especially Notre Dame and its gargoyles. Oh well, once the cleaning is done, the build up of dirt and soot will start again. We visited the Place de Voges, a lovely park; Victor Hugo’s house is being refurbished. We spend the day walking or taking the metro, but also endure one very long bus ride about town. We are lucky to get tickets for the Paris Ballet on Christmas Eve at the Opera Garnier, even if we have to sit on fold down chairs behind one another, the seats are in the first and second rows, dead center. For once I’ll get to wear my black travel dress and my Chagall Scarf and Carl will finally wear his sports jacket. We usually end up at an opera or ballet in our jeans and Reeboks and risk the glares of the local art patrons everywhere. After an afternoon nap, we go out at 10 P M for dinner, yes that was some nap, in more ways than one!!

We had eaten lunch at a local chain, Bistro Romain, near the Garnier, but I didn’t eat much—the French use olive oil and sauces on everything. You can see how ill I have been. For dinner we stopped by a restaurant on the Greek Street off Boulevard Saint Michel and had a gyro.

Back in the hotel, our Fawlty Towers room finds us with a TV that has burned out and no Kleenex and a torn bed sheet. Not to fear, we’re sure the new staff will fix things in short order. Carl is determined not to die in Paris, but to walk a lot on this trip. For six months he really hasn’t walked and his legs have gotten quite weak. He’s up before dawn on Thursday—dawn here is between 8 and 8:30—walking the streets of the market areas. Upon his return, we’re off in a rainy, windy storm to find some Christmas Eve festivity.

We go to the upscale shopping street of Rue St Honore du Fauborg. There are more people shopping here and the store windows are gorgeous especially the Hermes in pastels. We make our annual visit to Baccarat to find some earrings to match my ring and pendant purchased on prior trips. But no luck this time. Of course once again I have a major attack of hot flashes in the Baccarat store—our salesgirl, Sophie (a student from the French University studying Chinese and business) took me upstairs to the bathroom, gave me a glass of water in a Baccarat goblet and then offered us the hot chocolate from the Hotel Crillon (really a liquid Chocolate mousse). The French do interesting things with chocolate: pieces of candy are small and exquisite, like edible works of art. We couldn’t resist the offerings at “Josephine Vannier”, in the Marais, and bought a box.

We took the metro to La Defense and got tickets for the Louvre so that we didn’t have to stand in line and could go when we wanted to and tickets for the opening of “Fantasia 2000” at the IMAX on January 1, 2000—here in Paris…. wow…what a thrill. We had planned on seeing it in LA, but opening day in Paris, c’est fantastique!! There was a flea market with holiday wares including hot wines and foods and goods from many countries, a United Nations feeling, on the Esplanade.

On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the Buci markets and get chicken and potatoes and fruit—I love them, but the food was too salty for Carl, but my best meal here.

The International Herald Tribune reports many Paris hotels have increased security for New Year’s Eve guest and there will be 8000 police at the Eiffel Tower/Champs d’ Elysée area. Carl thinks we should be nearer the Place Concorde where we can see the Tower but not be in the thick of the crowds. Sounds good to me. We still haven’t seen how the Champs d’ Elysée is set up—we’ll do that next week. Have to close now, Carl wants me to see how firm his thing muscles are with all his walking…. if that isn’t a come on line, I don’t know what is…Later.

Christmas Eve at the Opera Garnier to see the Paris Ballet...

The Chagall ceiling is as fabulous as ever; the opera house with its winding staircases and its red and gold interior is once again breathtaking. Unfortunately, the ballet was awful. Here we are first and second row center and the performance doesn’t merit any applause from me—which miffed the Frenchman next to me. We have seen the Paris Ballet before and they were quite wonderful, but this time the pieces were stupid and boring especially some video/ballet combo. At $125.00 per ticket we were VERY disappointed. Carl, of course, was hungry after the performance, so we tried to get service at the Hippo Steak House around the corner…the female staff kept hustling us into buying drinks at the bar—how crude. We left and found a snack bar open. We were able to see Midnight Mass at St Peter’s in Rome on our new TV—it's exciting to see St Peter’s on TV when we’ve seen it in person so often. The Pope’s body is very frail, but his eyes denote one whose mind is still sharp. His cloak of spun gold was breathtaking, but obscene in its opulence.

CNN World News reported a terrorist hijacking in Nepal. Why would that place be targeted??

All night we heard the most intense rain and gale force winds.

I still have the flu and now have a chest cold. Carl’s knee is in excruciating pain but Ben Gay and blankets put him to sleep. I intend to sleep a long, long time and we do until 11 AM, now that’s incredible for us…

Oh, I forgot to describe the Christmas lights near the Opera. At the Place Vendome the column in the center of the Place was washed in a blue/gray light almost like a giant icicle—at its base were arches of evergreens and twinkling lights intertwined. Nearby at the Galleries Lafayette, canopies of gold lights covered the street.

Upon our return to our hotel, we are greeted by Roland, a long time clerk and opera lover. Carl tells him of our house-building ordeal...Carl says it helps him to talk about it.... I wonder, as it seems to get him worked up all over again.

We sleep until 1 PM…Carl must be exhausted and I definitely still have the flu…. I desperately want/need a bowl of soup. I haven’t heard of any chicken soup in Paris, but there must be onion soup in Paris. We settle for omelettes, which like everything else in France are cooked in butter and olive oil…how could food not taste good.

Here we are having breakfast at 2:30 PM—such decadence!!

In our hotel lobby we meet a father and son from Milwaukee—turns out the father lived in LA and went to Fairfax High—both he and this son are lawyers—another son is a top exec for Disney. I’m sure Carl is glad he took my advice and shaved today—it seems that we run into somebody every day no matter where we are on the planet…

Update of the Nepal hijacking: women, children and one dean man (stabbed) were released in the United Arab Emigrates, then the plane took off for Afghanistan where it remains.

By 3 PM, I’m back in our room determined to feel better. Carl is doing a solo flight down the Champs…Tomorrow, we’ll try to make it to Chartres.

I WALKED THROUGH THE TUILLERIES TO PLACE CONCORDE; MY EARS WERE ACHING FROM THE COLD PAIN. I GOT ON THE METRO TO THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE WHERE THE WIND CONTINUED TO FREEZE ME. IT WAS A GOOD THING SANDRA WAS IN THE ROOM. I HAD TO GET COFFEE FOR WARMTH AT A MCD AND AT 4 PM I SAW THE TREE LIGHTS COME ON THE CHAMPS. THE STREET IS LINED WITH FERRIS WHEELS FROM THE ARC TO THE PLACE DE CONCORDE FOR NEW YEAR’S EVE. I WALKED IT AND FROZE, SO BACK ON THE METRO WITH TRANSFERS TO ODEON AND HOME TO FIND MY “MIMI” IN BED LYING ON A TOWEL TO PROTECT THE BED FROM COUGH—STRESS INCONTINENCE. WHAT A SIGHT…SUCH COUGHING. AND SHE’S NOT HUNGRY…SHE MUST REALLY BE ILL... WHERE ARE MY PAINTINGS AND POEMS THAT I CAN THROW INTO THE GRATE TO START A FIRE TO WARM HER??? WHERE IS MUSETTE WHEN I NEED HER TO SELL SANDRA’S EARRINGS FOR MEDICATIONS????

IT IS 6 PM AND WE ARE AGAIN IN BED…THE HOUSE BUILDING MUST HAVE TAKEN ITS TOLL ON US…SEVERELY…

Christmas Day, December 25

A strange odor is coming from the air vent in our room…it smells like marijuana (even though I have never used it). What has happened to our Hotel Dauphine!! We’re on our way out for a sandwich, before the next downpour. Roland tells us drug use is illegal in France. He checks out our room but smells nothing. I FORCE SANDRA TO THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE FOR A VIEW OF ALL OF THE LIGHTS DOWN THE CHAMPS TO THE GRAND ROUE IN THE PLACE CONCORDE AND WE GO BACK TO BED.

Sunday, December 26

We eat a breakfast at the Hotel after a night of 100mph winds and rains that tore out trees, pulled down street decorations and building impediments. Carl walks alone to the closed Pantheon and the closed Luxembourg Gardens. Then back to the room. All of the airports, trains and some metros stops have been closed. The Louvre was closed because of falling window glass. Versailles is a disaster area…this is reported to be the worst storm in Northern France in recorded history…there is natural devastation abounding everywhere in Northern France…

At 2 PM we go to eat off St Michel. I needed Onion Soup and lamb chops but didn’t finish the meal. We return to bed and fall asleep until 11:15 PM when to awaken to Bette Midler’s 1997 Las Vegas performance…Carl escapes my noisy sleeping on the hallway floor. All he is thinking about is the house and the contractors and all I’m thinking about is my coughing. What a state we are in.

Almost a week has gone by on our trip and all I recall is rain, wind, cold and being very sick with the flu…. will my health ever improve so that we can walk the streets of Paris like we used to do???

Monday, December 27

It is now Monday at 7 AM and I haven’t eaten since yesterday at 2 PM. WOW…

WE WENT TO MONTPARNESSE STATION AND WALKED FOREVER TO FIND THE TRAIN TO CHARTRES. AFTER 45 MINUTES ON THE STATIONERY TRAIN WE ALIT AND WENT TO THE LOUVRE FOR THE DAY. THE TRAIN TO CHARTRES WAS DELAYED DUE TO THE WEEKEND’S “WORST WIND STORM IN 50 YEARS”. THOUSANDS OF TREES HAD BEEN UPROOTED AT VERSAILLES. WE EASILY FIND OUR WAY THROUGH THE MAZE OF THE LOUVRE, VISITING AND STILL BEING ASTOUNDED BY “THE SLAVE”, “NIKE”, “LA BELLE”, “MONA LISA”, THE BOTICELLI’S/ RAPHAEL’S AND OH, THOSE DA VINCI MADONNAS, THE ETRUSCAN COUPLE, THE CANOVA “KISS OF PSYCHE AND AMOUR”, AND WE HAD OUR PICTURE TAKEN IN FRONT OF THE MOVED TO A BETTER LOCATION FOR VIEWING “FRANCESA AND PAOLO”—SHE CRIES INTO HIS CHEST WOUND WHILE THE LEADERS OF FLORENCE DECIDE THEIR FATE FOR ADULTERY. (She loves him as I love Carl.)

IN LATE AFTERNOON WE SIT IN A CAFÉ AT THE LOUVRE AND TALK WITH A CHINESE COUPLE FORM THE ALTADENA AREA OF LOS ANGELES. WE HAD LUNCHED ON PAELLA AT THE LOUVRE CAROUSEL EATING AREA EARLIER. THEN WE WENT HOME (where I was awake all night after having sniffed Afrin for my nose congestion…I now see the agitation that Carl gets from medications and how he can’t calm down. He sleeps until 3 AM—I don’t...He leaves for a walk and I sleep until 10:30 AM.).

Tuesday, December 28

We are alive again and we go!!!

We walk through the upscale St Germain de Pres. Carl’s already walked it one day while I was sick in bed—it has a feeling like LA’s Robertson Blvd district. Upscale boutiques and an artsy, but not Bohemian, feeling. Having experienced anxiety attacks and insomnia for 2 weeks of cold and flu medications, I am determined to cold turkey and leave all cold meds behind. Carl believes the weather man who doesn’t mention rain. I’m wiser and insist we bring our umbrellas. Within minutes it rains as it has Every Day since we landed in Paris a week ago. Our goal is the d'Orsay Museum. We pass 2 shops on the Rue du Bac to which we must return…one has the hot fashion item, the pashmina shawls, very high quality and beautiful pastel shades—the other shop a scarf of Paris. Once at the d'Orsay, we find a long line…around us are a few characters: a young man with his mother (he has an old fashioned camera and he takes pictures of weird things like the ground, a gate—that have no meaning); an Asian entrepreneur who is selling umbrellas for 50 FRF but is smart enough to barter and take 40 FRF; behind us are a blonde (Sharon Stone type) and her man—a huge lug from New York (“Bruno”). We find out later she lived in Paris for 6 years doing marketing and now she and “Bruno” live in NY… “Sharon” becomes incensed when newcomers decide to start a second line—she storms out to one and all, demanding they get to the end of our line—that was one gutsy broad…forget about Hillary for Senator, vote for this gal!!! Unfortunately, the wave of “cutters” kept coming. Did that stop our Sharon?? No Way. She went right to the front of the line with her complaint and then she came back for Bruno and her “line friends”, US and we go right into the Museum, just like that. We don’t know their real names and we never saw them after that. Was this an episode from “Touched By An Angel”?

The Museum is packed. The cloakroom is full. It all seems so disorganized. They have moved the paintings on the ground floor into a hodge-podge that makes no sense. The exhibit on “Art of the Sea” was so-so. We worked our way upstairs to our favorites: Degas; Toulouse Lautrec; Cézannes; Renoir’s pair of dancers—the country dance (Carl’s favorite because he thinks she looks like me) and the city dance; Monet’s cathedrals and “Magpie”; Whistler’s Mother; Manets and some fabulous Van Goghs.

By now we have seen so many art masterpieces, it’s hard to remember which one is in what city.

We lunch in the elegant dining room—so busy—we ate here before. Carl has a delicate fish puff pastry, I have a tough pork dish and we enjoy glaces, especially the passion fruit, although the lemon and cinnamon packed with crystals of cinnamon sugar were good too.

The ordeal of the day was attempting to get in touch with Charles Schwab Brokerage. Carl has a toll free number, which doesn’t work from pay phones, and I discover my ATT Calling Card was farmed out to Pacific Bell, so that I don’t have a long distance card anymore—too bad they couldn’t have informed me!!

We enlist the aid of the information girls at the Museum desk who give us use of all the telephone books in Paris…No luck.

On the way home, I suggest we stop at a Deutsche Bank—maybe they have some ideas…they give us the international information number.

Carl tries the number in a phone booth but gets disconnected…eventually, at our hotel, he locates a phone number and is able to discuss things with his or should I say OUR broker.

We stop in a grocery. Carl gets low fat yogurt called “Sveltesse” and goat cheese. I get fruit—it’s not as high quality as those in the fruit stands in the Buci but the price is much less. I pick some things I’ve never tried: white grapes from Spain; Canadian apples; clementines.

They have a very unique system in this produce department. At the scales are pictures of all the fruits and vegetable—you push the picture after putting each item on the scale and it prints out a price tag which one puts on the bag before going to the check out. What a time saver...Why don’t we use it in the US? Probably Americans would weigh one or two items, get a price sticker, then fill the bag up...In other words—CHEAT. What a sad commentary on our country.

You do your own bagging in the grocery and most people bring a small shopping bag or cart for their wares.

We next stop for a baguette—Carl buys a “country style” baguette over my protests and admits he wanted a white crispy one—son now we have 3 feet of baguettes to munch on all night…

Wednesday, December 29

Carl goes out at 7:30 AM for Chez McD and walks east on Blvd St. Germain to the River and back through the Ile St. Louis and into Notre Dame where he sees the sun rise through the old windows on the east wall and hears morning Mass. I’m still in bed at 10 AM.

Finally, we make it to the Cluny Museum…Each time we visit the Cluny it gets better and better...The collection of medieval statues, tapestries and religious artifacts grow larger or more is being displayed in ideal spaces and lighting. Of course the purpose of our visits to the Cluny are THE TAPESTRIES. No matter how many times we visit, once we enter the room and see The Lady of the Unicorn we are hit by a wave of emotion... overwhelmingly struck in awe by the sheer beauty of the 6 panels that surround us. Each time we study each individual panel, finding new things and being struck by the beauty and intricacies of the handiwork. To me, the ultimate power of these tapestries to entrance the viewer, is the emotional element captured in different ways by the Unicorn gazing affectionately at the Lady: I especially like “Touch” and the faces of the rabbits throughout all of the panels. We observe people coming into the room—first time visitors who really don’t know what is awaiting them and for the lucky one, they too are captured by The Tapestries and stand dazed, studying each one over and over, as if their senses had somehow tricked them. For truly can one work of art like this let alone six have been created and now shared with all mankind? Carl puts these tapestries in his top 5 of all art works. He finds tapestry kits of two of two of the panels for our new home—they are stylized, but quite good. We’ll make them later.

Before we entered the Cluny, we had our encounter with Parisian Pigeons. The uneaten “country style” baguette of the previous night, that I had told Carl he would not like, was used to feed the lot of our feathered friends. While doing so we met a couple and child from Columbus, Ohio—he was a contractor who told us that all jobs, residential or commercial, generally come in at twice the price and twice the time allotted to begin with—that made Carl feel a little better, for a while.

I finally got to try on one of the trendy pashmina shawls. Across from our hotel was a shop crammed with scarves—no more than 4 people including the owner could stand inside the shop at one time. Carl felt the shawl made me look awful because there was so much shawl and I’m so short. Maybe just a neck scarf would be better...we’ll see. The owner was so pushy; we shouldn’t buy anything there.

We had lunch at Leon’s—the muscle chain out of Belgium. They are as good as ever, especially with cold beer and wine.

Next we go to the church at St. Eustache and get our photo taken at the Brancusi Statue of the Human Head. The area is full of people but there is a seedy, unsafe feeling today. We meet a couple from America, she’s lived in Paris and this is his first time—he is so excited…after my fourth time here, I’m still excited!!!

As we pass the Tiffany Store we go inside to check out wedding rings. There is a unique one that Carl likes a lot…every one of them is defective…. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!!!?? We’re talking Tiffany’s. Carl says since it’s a high tourist area and time, seconds are being passed off. I find it appalling and I bet the Board of Tiffany’s would too.

Well so far I’m hitting 1000 against this wedding—couldn’t get married in Paris, and couldn’t even buy a ring here. Carl says at least we know the ring to look for in LA or NY—so, l guess we’re headed in the right direction, if slowly.

Tonight on TV is a live performance of the Paris Ballet doing “Sleeping Beauty”. I guess since all performances are sold out, they put it on live. How nice. The ballet is OK but the principals are really not first tier. Interesting how companies change in a few short years. If they would spend more time concentrating on the pure classical forms and less on the nonsense we saw of running and jumping nowhere, the company would return to its glory days I’m sure. I think that at this point, people are so enamored by the “PARIS BALLET”, if they stood on the stage and gurgles water or grunted, folks would applaud…come to think of it, that’s just what we saw for $125.00 a ticket—we didn’t applaud, but everyone else did…

The TV here has been quite entertaining—late at night they show things like Chinese acrobats, Cirque du Soleil, the History of the Moulin Rouge showgirls—we have tickets for the Lido Review the night before we leave Paris. It will be interesting to see what’s presented since the standard show with bare-chested girls with feathers and rhinestones has developed into a soft Lesbian, sado-masochism. The horror of it all!!

Thursday, December 30

I am determined to walk down the Champs d’ Elysée and to see the Eiffel Tower before New Year’s Eve. God knows if we’ll get anywhere near it them. The city is starting to have lots of people in it. The streets are full of tourists and the metro is packed. Of course it is raining, quite hard. There are Ferris Wheels down the center of the Champs—each one different. Our favorite is one with world monuments such as the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, and the Statue of Liberty adorning it. We try to envision what it will look like all lit up. I’ve read in the paper that there are supposed to be 2000 floating sculptures along the Seine—we don’t see any evidence of that and the Seine has risen quite high.

On our way to the Eiffel Tower we see a new stature of Winston Churchill. It is fabulous and its words “We will never surrender” are a timeless freedom cry that sends chills down your spine.

The closer one sees the countdown on the Tower (now 2 days to the Millennium), there is a similar feeling of high excitement and anticipation like the one we felt as we got closer and closer to the Statue of Liberty last year…

Despite the rain and the umbrellas and lots of people, we take pictures and get people to take some of us.

Carl meets an Italian girl who asks him to take her photo—it turns out she’s a bar maid from Rome. Now why would she pick him out of the crowd??? Must be that long coat and American air about him.

At the base of the tower are the remains of the fierce winds—uprooted trees.

Across from the Tower there is a police incident—Suddenly, two police vans pull up, swat team guerrillas

Jump out; sweep someone into the van, others run down the boulevard. Don’t be fooled by the handsome, delicate police walking among the crowds. These are mere deterrents. The real police are in the swat team vans. We got the feeling that before anything happens, the swat team will take you away and ask questions later. That’s fine with me.

We walk to the Trocadero for a fabulous view of the Tower. The evening lights are now illuminating it. Carl says, “It’s surreal.” He can’t believe he’s really here. I can believe it.

During our walk on the Champs d’ Elysée, we came across the Russian Airline, Aeroflot displaying in their window a fabulous collection of the blue and white Russian pottery Ella had just given us as a house warming.

We have lunch at an Italian restaurant—I get pasta, which I always love. Carl had a pizza—his first pick came with raw ham—back it went. His second pick, four cheeses. Came with a huge piece of Gorgonzola melting on top—Yuck!! He ate most of it and I smuggled the rest home in a baggie—it is tres gauche to do doggie bags in Paris—it simply isn’t done...Period!! WE DO IT A LOT.

We continue with our nightly ritual: the grocery store for yogurt and fruit; the pastry shop; the baguette freshly made or the roasted chicken. We nibble thru the night…mostly Carl who insists he isn’t hungry and proceeds to devour the pantry.

I’m feeling better. Finally.

Hijackings are still going on in the world.

Someone stabbed George Harrison in his Oxford home.

I think about Wags a lot and get teary.

Wonder if anyone I know has listened to the news of weather in Paris and has worried about us?

We’ll see.

Part 2

New Year’s Eve, December 31, 1999

Carl goes out for his early morning walk: 7-9 AM, as he does most days while I continue to rest. He said the restaurants and shops got huge deliveries of food—probably in preparation for the evening’s festivities and the long holiday weekend combined.

By the time we get out at 11 AM, the streets of the Buci are bustling with people and there are lines at the patisseries. We get some “King’s Cake”—a special New Year’s Eve cake at a chocolate shop…it is only so-so, like a chocolate doughy croissant.

We walk down the streets of St Germain still looking for a pashmina shawl. Carl sure spoils me.

By the end of the afternoon we have found a very nice one at the Galleries Lafayette—not a long one that makes me look like a draped statue, but a shorter one that will look lovely in the evening at the opera—and I’ll be the most trendy, since mine came from Paris.

Carl also stops in again at Baccarat. There are less people today and we soon select an elegant black ring with a band of gold—it will look fantastic with my black outfits. It’s a cabochon ring…Oh my…Carl also buys 2 vases: a ruby red and an exquisite green one that are similar to the pale yellow one we received on our last visit to Baccarat as a gift from them.

The crowds around the Baccarat shop and the Galleries Lafayette are quite thick. I’m anxious to get our treasures safely back in our room

First we lunch at the Hippo. Nice meal and quite large by French standards: chicken; potato; hericot verts; salad; wine/beer. This was the same restaurant we walked out of a few days ago. Credit card machines don’t work. Could this be the Y2K bug?

In short order we are packed like sardines in the Metro. Free service has begun in Paris for the Millennium on the Metros. But we’ll be walking from now on.

News: Hostage released—? Any terms…Boris Yeltsin resigned and the former head of the KGB is acting president of Russia—he sure looks like a Nazi type. CNN has lost its signal in the middle of its 100 hour Millennium coverage—could this sabotage or just incredibly bad luck?

We’ll be leaving the hotel tonight about 9 and head to the Place Concorde to view the Eiffel Tower and up the Champs…Who knows when we’ll return…

We leave our hotel at 9 PM and walk along the Seine. We don’t see any signs of the 2000 floating sculptures; only people walking…young, old, and families. We make it to the Place de Concorde and stroll down the Champs d’ Elysée where more work has been done on the Ferris Wheels. One has chandeliers and it is obvious that at the base of each Ferris wheel there will be live entertainment. The lights are dim…there is a police presence...no street vendors, no one selling refreshments, so people have brought their own champagne. We stake out our spot with a good view of the Eiffel Tower…nearby is a couple from Canada whose lady is working in Paris for 2 years. . They help time pass quickly.

We don’t know what to expect.

At midnight the base of the tower is ablaze in white lights, then there is a horizontal laver of lights which slowly works its way to the top of the tower… At the top, the tower explodes, from the tip, in light at the stroke of midnight. Then more lights shoot out all over the tower and fireworks fill the sky. When the fireworks stop, the tower looks like a copper tower twinkling in white light as batteries of flashcube lights explode for one-half an hour, continuously. Relentlessly illuminating the copper tower in stark whiteness.

It deserved the covers of the major magazines of the world… Astounding…

We venture up the Champs d’ Elysée, but the crowd of 1½ million people is so thick and the crush so frightening that we only get to the first Ferris wheel with some weird cow and balloon display going up to the sky. We decide to leave before we are trampled to death. The crowd behavior was worse than getting on the boast leaving Capri.

We walk back to our hotel down the Blvd St Germain with horns honking; a group of rollerbladers going down the center of the street; some staff at the Bureau of Foreign Affairs leaning out of the windows toasting passer-byes.

There is broken glass everywhere from champagne bottles.

I bet most of it will be cleaned up by morning.

Some of my favorite images of New Year’s Eve were a girl in a restaurant with an Eiffel Tower in her hair bank; and a women with lots of glitter on her face; the sales girl at Galleries Lafayette with a row of rhinestones on her eyelids.

Saturday, January 1, 2000

Carl wakes me up to see the ball drop in Time Square on TV. Now that was some sight—so many people and tons of confetti.

Mayor Guiliani surely added some points for the Senate election—there were no security incidents and one hell of a big NY City style part.

We sleep until almost noon—take a long walk by the Louvre looking for a non-existent cafeteria to eat in—finally eat at Leon’s near the Garnier. Carl has mussels and I have chicken in cream sauce.

The streets are getting ready for a big New Year’s Parade with 500 bands we were told by the Canadians from last night.

We hurry to La Defense leaving the oncoming parade behind and get ready for “Fantasia 2000” at the Paris IMAX. The snack bar consists of vending machines for candy, ice cream and even popcorn. The theater is small and sold out.

The movie was fabulous!!!! Beethoven’s 5^th was a wild montage of shapes; one of our favorites was the whale story set to Resphigi’s “Pines of Rome” which was so touching and moving—the joy of the family swimming together, the tiny one lost and seeing his parents’ shadows outside on the glacier while he was trapped underwater---the reunion, the school of whales then moving ever upward; Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue”—line drawings on New York City and the people who live there and struggle and see their dreams come true; the tin soldier with one leg and his ballerina; “Carnival of the Animals” with flamingos playing with a yo-yo; and our other two favorites: “Pomp and Circumstance”, a story of Noah’s Ark with animals pairing, mating and Donald Duck being separated from his Daisy—it was in the finest, purest Disney tradition—a masterpiece; and finally the cycle of life, death and rebirth shown with a male deer and a water spirit nymph (gorgeous, art deco/nouveau) in flowing images of fire and destruction/spring—breathtaking.

As soon as it ended we wanted to see it again and we will in LA.

The metro was very packed going home and the local McD was packed to overflowing.

Back in the hotel, we were treated to the Miss World Contest and Celine Dion’s New Year’s Eve Canadian Concert filmed last night—imagine, we’re seeing it the very next day!!

Sunday, January 2, 2000

Off to Chartres

At the railroad station a soldier in army combat uniform and an uzi passes us…it’s always unsettling to see a soldier with a powerful weapon in a public place. On December 25, 1998 we went to Chartres. There was a “hurricane” then. Today, we saw the devastation from last week’s rain and winds: fields super saturated and downed trees. We arrive at the Cathedral of Chartres, the Cardinal is saying Sunday Mass. We walk around and see the amazing windows—they are so intricate and of such vibrant colors. I can’t imagine how they were taken down during WW II for protection. Thank God they were. We continue to walk around the stone carvings of the life of Christ—we especially like the one of the Ascension where you see the lower half of Christ’s body as he rises to heaven. I receive Communion from the Cardinal. Carl reminds me I’ve done this at St Peter’s in Rome, St Patrick’s in NYC, in Bologna. We get to walk outside, around the entire Cathedral—the statues and the steeples are awesome. Then we walk through the town, which is quite upscale. Most of the shops are closed on this Sunday. We find the pastry shop we bought macaroons in last year. They are stilled almond paste saucers filled with various jams. We were lucky to have caught the train from Paris to Chartres today with 2 minutes to spare; and now we are again lucky to catch the return to Paris with one minute remaining to departure.

The train in full, but the crowd is quiet and it is a comfortable ride.

Once back in Paris, we wander the Greek section and select a small restaurant with great food. Carl has a salad with tasty cucumber-tomato-avocado-seafood and a trout. I have onion soup, roast chicken (their chickens in Paris are always so tender and flavorful—bet their chicks aren’t fattened up in cages!!! NO PROBABLY FATTENED UP WITH FAT INJECTIONS PRIOR TO COOKING… For dessert we have crème caramel and a fruit cup, which is our canned fruit cocktail…

We have one more day in Paris, what to do????

Monday, January 3, 2000

Another later morning in bed. [My Lewis, of course, had taken his 7 AM, two hour stroll and came home hungry and whiny as usual. His nights are difficult…right leg pain when he lies down and the agitation form it…is it his blood pressure medications or the size of his organs?? Well, McD had no eggs and so we had no McMorning Sale. What to do…. We found another Greek restaurant run by a Turk who made us delicious Gyros and that terrible Light Coca Cola. Then we began a short walk to Sainte Chapelle, the to Les Halles and had a pastry. Then to the closed Pompidou Center—it had just opened yesterday and now it is closed… We got on a metro for a ride to the north side of Sacre Coeur. We didn’t get off at the correct stop…. We began to walk up San Francisco style hilly streets trying in vain to find the funicula to the Cathedral of Sacre Coeur. We walked up 200 stairs after Carl insulted two young Sicilian men jokingly referring to the Mafia people…Two hundred (200) stairs and we didn’t miss a heartbeat, but we did sit down in the front pew and look at the golden mosaic of a Byzantine style Christ hovering on the ceiling above the apse. Then down the found funicula with the great view of Paris sprawling in front of us, right out of a magazine travel photo. Onto the streets of Montmartre, past the Moulin Rouge to the Place de Clichy to a metro home. We had passed many fabric stores, in Montmartre, loaded with beautiful silks and velvets, but there was no easy way to ship them home for our house…

In the Buci area there were no eateries that wanted to serve us until 5 PM, so back to last night’s Greeks who took one hour to prepare the wrong orders for us. Well, we made it home.

The temporary receptionist screwed up tomorrow’s shuttle reservations to the airport…

We had a poor night’s sleep.]

The above was all Carl talking—we have begun to sound like one another…but how could he forget the high point of the day: Sainte Chapelle. It had been closed because of the wind damage so there was a line when it opened this morning. Security was tight, perhaps because the entry is shared by the Palais du Justice. Last time we were here, renovation work was underway and we could see how it turned out today…slow, painstaking art restoration. The Upper Chapel is magnificent. One is totally surrounded by stained glass from floor to vaulted ceiling. To get to the Upper Chapel, one ascends a winding narrow staircase. How did the royal families maneuver in their robes? They didn’t have to, it turns out, as there was a special walkway from the Palais to the Upper Chapel. On the outside of the cathedral there are interesting gargoyles, not scary like at Notre Dame, but friendlier—some had human forms. Montmartre was quite seedy from the metro station down to the streets. Shops like low end Woolworth’s had bins of cheap clothes and house wares. Somehow fabulous fabric shops were also in this area. We got lots of ideas for our new home. Why Carl wanted to walk down the seedy sex street to the Moulin Rouge is beyond me…we did it once before. I remembered there being a chapel in the midst of “sin city” and we passed it again. Now it is more formal …it even has a sign, “Chapel of St Rita”—I wonder if she’s the patron saint of prostitutes??

Tuesday morning comes very early…this is January 4, 2000

We are up at 5:30 AM to prepare for a 7 AM shuttle pick-up. We spend time talking with Patrick the night clerk...a nice chap, but becoming disgruntled with the owner who he thinks gets richer and his own wages seem to stay the same. After nine years his salary of $1,400.00 a month with 5 weeks paid holiday, as all French workers receive, free health insurance and a daily travel allowance do not seem adequate to him. (The French will soon be striking, again, for a 32 hour work week at the same wages they received for a 40 hour work week.) He claims his small single apartment’s rent, near the Eiffel Tower, is about 1/3 his salary.

The shuttle is on time and of course it begins to rain. A young couple from Turkey decides to join us.

We have 3 more stops en route to De Gaul: a red-neck and his wife from Jacksonville, FL—he had been in the south of France during college, on a baseball scholarship, but this was his first time in Paris and his wife’s first time in Europe. You could tell she’d had a terrible of it. They’d spent most of the time in sidewalk cafes, his drinking beer. They had lived through he crush on the Champs d’ Elysée on New Year’s Eve. They grew up in farm country in Indiana—met at 16 and here they are in Paris—like Carl says, “The whole world is traveling”…. The redneck had worked for a large construction equipment company but he had recently bought a liquor store to become a businessman. Carl asked me if this guy was anything like my first ex-husband, Barry…right on the money…

We had several near fatalities with pedestrian…people just crossing the streets in the dark rain. We almost collided with a truck in an intersection---the Middle Eastern man got out, pulled open our driver’s door and began yelling…fortunately, they didn’t come to blows. Of course, our last passenger was a prima donna—type. Kept us waiting while she sauntered toward the shuttle. But we did make it to the airport with time to spare. The airport is very modern and clean. Air France is comfortable and roomy by today’s standards.

I almost forgot---one of the high points of yesterday was to have bought a travel-sized Monopoly Game set with the streets familiar Parisian one. I can’t wait to play it. Carl wants to display it to impress our friends. Like they might know what St Honore is (the most expensive street in Paris).

Oh yes. We finally found La Poste to mail our special calendar-postcards to family and friends. Carl uses some machine to get mailing labels instead of the beautiful French stamps. I hope they arrive eventually.

The Air France lunch matched all the foods we ate in Paris this year…lovely, but too salty, too sweet. All the flavors are too intense. Or have we changed? Where’s the Canola Oil? The coffee is TNT here. The tea is yellow…

Part 3: “FLAMENCA”

Tuesday, January 4

Madrid

First impressions: small airport with no confusion; friendly, helpful people; Carl speaking Spanish almost fluently. Get on the bus to a taxi stop in central Madrid and then taxi to the Crown Plaza at the Plaza D’ Espana.

The hotel room is on the 12^th floor and has a perfect view of the plaza and fountains in front. A large comfortable room compared to our tiny Parisian hotel room.

Carl thinks it’s warm at 15 degrees C, so he wears half as many clothes as he did in Paris as we walk from the hotel to the Palacio Real past the statues of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. I dress down too and within an hour we are freezing. Carl returns to the hotel, leaving me in the Park in front of the Palace, to dress warmer and to bring me my sweater and gloves. After a short while he returns all roasty, toasty, without any clothes for me. So, in my best adaptable style, I wear my neck scarf as a head covering and share Carl’s gloves.

Madrid in this area is a pedestrian-friendly place. There are parks with gardens and wide walkways and lots of benches.

We arrive for a tour at the Palacio Real, but are told it is closed until Friday because the King’s mother has died and is lying in state within. The soldiers and police wear very unique hats with 3 points. They have bulletproof vests and machine guns. Across from the palace is a large garden with rows of statues, which are of the early rulers of Spain.

Flanking the east side of this garden is the Teatro Real; the opera/ballet/concert hall of Madrid. Domingo is doing two performances of a Spanish opera--Since it is siesta time and most businesses are closed from 2:30 to 5:30 PM we have to return later if we want to buy tickets. As it turns out there is only one ticket available and that has an obstructed view. Later, at the hotel, we enlist the concierge staff for tickets--no success. We’ll try again on our own in the morning of the performances to see if there are any last minute cancellations.

Next to the opera house is a famous restaurant--Cafe Orientel--where diplomats dine.

We wander through a maze of streets and plazas--we have our first tapas experience. I’m not too adventuresome, so I have fried shrimp and beer. Carl has his eye on caracoles (snails) but he’ll wait on them for another culinary adventure.

We pass through the Plaza Mayor and come upon a theater that has a flamenco dance troupe in from Andalusia. We get 7th row tickets for a mere $21.00 each.

We pass lots of small shops-the largest sewing and craft supply house in Europe; a small Lladro dealer; we come upon a packed shopping street which is a main business street still decorated with holiday lights, off the Puerto del Sol. We end up at McD near our hotel for burgers—Carl’s system is so delicate. Then we get a piece of holiday pastry; a sweet bread called Riscon de Reyes that is filled with shipped cream (yummy).

We’re in bed by 7 PM and sleep soundly until 8:30 AM--boy, were we tired.

Wednesday, January 5

We’re off to the Prado.

There was a heavy fog all night and planes had been grounded and still are this morning. It is slowly lifting. Our hotel is right at the metro stop but we’ll probably walk to see more of the city.

[We start out trying to find breakfast, preferably at Senor McD, but all stores were closed, even at 10 AM. We end up at a restaurant-cafeteria on the Gran Via for fried eggs and ham--was it raw?? --And pan and café latte for 450 pesetas each at the bar. We won’t do this again. Then we walk the entire Gran Via to the Paseo del Prado and into that fantastic collection in the Prado of Goya’s-Reuben’s-Rafael’s-Velasquez’s-Murillo’s—all masterpieces. Of course one of us lost our Frommer’s. Will we survive?? Across from the Prado we buy a large fan in black, from Valencia, from a street vendor.

Big lunch of variously prepared chickens at “VIP’S” an upscale book store with restaurant.

Down the Paseo del Prado we walk to the Reina Sophia holding GUERNICA, the best Picasso’s, Miro’s, and Dali’s. We buy sweatshirts of the GUERNICA.

Back up the Paseo del Prado to the private collection of 800 pieces in the Thyssen-Bornemiza Museum—only so-so.

We walk in the night to the Puerto del Sol for the yearly “Three King’s Parade”—fun, especially when we eat some of our left over chicken with cafe leche at a bar across the street from the Albinez Theatre where we see the Dance Troop of Andaluz, seats in the 7th row, and a very good flamenco show it was. We walk back to the hotel and spend the 200 pietas that Sandra found on a croissant.

It was a long, full very good day, even though the temperature never got above 5 degrees C.]

The day had incredible highs and a few minor lows. Breakfast was terrible-fried eggs and uncooked ham—I don’t care if they do think it’s cooked!! The Prado was unlike any museum I’ve been in—all of the paintings are in pristine condition. There is a regular schedule where paintings are refurbished-most other masterpieces in museums have been darkened with age and dust. This museum has a fabulous collection of Goya’s, including the famous “May 3rd Execution”, El Greco’s, Velasquez’s, including the famous family portraits of King Charles, lots of Murillo’s—I had purchased a box of holiday cards before this trip that had reproductions of masterpieces in the Prado and it turns out the reproductions were extraordinarily good, especially the Murillo’s. Reuben’s and Tintoretto’s were displayed in abundance, and only ten (10) percent of the collection in on display at any one time. Amazing.

Lunch was at “VIP’S”, a chain. Carl decided to have the special, whatever it was. I played it safe and I got a wonderful salad and roast chicken with fries. Carl got some potatoes in gravy, followed by chicken leg stew. Dessert was a super sweet cake and ice cream.

I really wanted to go to see Picasso’s GUERNICA, so we sent there—it was a fabulous and terribly moving experience. I could have stayed at this painting for hours. There were some other fab Picasso’s, lots of Miro’s, some good Dali’s and a special exhibit from Mexico with wonderful works by Diego Rivera and his wife Freda. We got sweatshirts of GUERNICA.

One more museum to go, the private collection at the Thyssen-Bornemiza. It was quite extensive, but most of the works were minor by major artists. Some very nice sculptures; of Christ and Mary Magdaleine by Rodin; a Chagall Madonna; Manet’s “Horsewoman”; Degas ballet; Hooper “Hotel Room”. There was also a special exhibit of landscapes from Breugel to Van Gogh—it was fair except for a fabulous Breugel “Garden of Eden”; the Van Gogh was very atypical.

By now it was close to 7 PM.

We stopped by a tourist office on our walk from the museum and got help with maps, since someone lost our Frommer’s.

On our way to our evening Flamenco concert, we passed a parade for the “Three King’s Day”, in the Puerto del Sol. There were throngs of people and it looked like a lot of pickpockets were present. Lots of floats with people throwing candy to the crowds. I got one piece. Carl got none. The floats had an amateur feel about them, but they were fun: rockets to the moon; volcanoes exploding; carousels

The flamenco dance concert was very, very good; especially the piece performed by the company’s founder.

We walked back to the hotel; the streets held a surprising number of people for 11 PM, maybe because of the parade, maybe because this is Madrid, a night city. It was a very full day; out for 12 hours and mostly spent walking; but the trip to Madrid was truly worth it just to see the art and the flamenco troupe. I almost forgot: We went into St. Joseph Church, a totally different style, lots of statues, painted wooden ones with some statues dressed in beautiful robes. There was even a statue of St. Rocco—honest!!

Another word about the parade floats. They were homemade variety, but quite creative, including a lighthouse with a smoke breathing dragon through it, a huge eye ball symbolizing?, and of course the Sun King--no Three Kings were in the parade though.

Thursday, January 6

Off to Segovia

A city one hour away by bus. But first we have a wonderful breakfast in the hotel of fresh fruits, scrambled eggs, bacon, real toast, cold cuts and Spanish breakfast pastries, which were really sweetened breads. It took us awhile to find the bus depot, which was not that far from the Hotel Lots of helpful citizens, pointed us in the right direction, wherever that was. At the bus terminal, you buy a specific seat for your trip and of course we bought the last two seats available. The bus was comfortable and the ride took us through the countryside and mountains. There was snow on the ground in lots of places. The terrain was rocky and covered by cattle and a few grazing horses.

Segovia is like some other small towns we saw in Italy. As one approached, one sees the tall buildings off in the distance. For Segovia this turns out to be the Cathedral and the Alcazar (castle).

At the tourist office in Madrid we had picked up a walking tour of Segovia and it was a perfect guide.

There are many Romanesque churches here, all closed to the public except during services.

The first one we passed was the Church of San Milan, which is considered to be the best example of Segovian Romanesque. Down the road was the great Roman Aqueduct. It is fabulous and in remarkable condition, rising 95 feet above us. Next we began our walk down the Calle Real, the main street. We pass Casa de los Picos, a 15^th Century Mansion whose façade is covered with small granite pyramids. The building is now an art school. Nearby is an old public granary used as the city archives. Once again the Spanish people are friendly and gracious and let us use their toilets. We locate the Convent of Corpus Christi, which was a Jewish synagogue until 1410… There was no trace of its former life, probably because it was in the shadow of the great Cathedral, which is a magnificent structure bearing numerous pinnacles. Inside the Cathedral, which is massive and very cold, there are numerous chapels along the perimeter walls. The main altar is Baroque, the carvings of the choir stalls and the towering gold sculpture of the retrochoir made the interior of the Cathedral impressive, but is was really the exterior grandeur that was noteworthy.

Down a long stretch of road, one approaches the Alcazar. Now this is one impressive castle. It is located at the junction of the Eresma and Clamores rivers. One crossed a wooden drawbridge --below is a very, very deep moat. The exterior of the castle bears a 260-foot tower and 12 turrets. We take a tour inside and get the feeling of what it was like to live in a real castle. There are rooms with suits of armor and weapons; in the throne room there are 2 thrones and portraits of Isabella and Fernando; the Pine Cone Hall with its ceiling decorated with pine cone structure; the royal bedroom; the Hall of Monarchs with a frieze of Spanish Kings along the top of the ceiling; the private chapel with its 2 altars; there are some stained glass windows throughout—some with a pale mauve color that was breathtaking. And of course tapestries.

Nearby the Alcazar is a house where Proust lived for awhile. On the way back to the main square near the Cathedral we take a different street and after a bit of a search locate the old walled Jewish section. There is a sign identifying it and I think we find the 2 remaining doors where Jewish families lived, but really little remains other then the scars on the doorjambs from the Mizouzas…It turns out this section of town is at the back side of the Corpus Christi Convent we saw at the beginning of our walking tour.

We make it back to the Aqueduct and in time to dine at the “world famous” CANDIDO, which is known for its roasted suckling pig—very tasty—local wine—very good—and a Ponche Segoviano—a liqueur dipped custard filled cake frosted in marzipan—very interesting flavors. Supposedly Hemmingway dined here. The décor was a Castilian with heads of deer and hunting guns, and fancy embroidered caps of soldiers enthroned behind glass.

We were disappointed in the quality of ceramics in Segovia—dull colors and the textiles we saw were not impressive. So we left the town with wonderful memories of our walking day.

Note—We have seen a lot of full-length mink coats this trip in Paris and in Madrid, but never as many as we saw in Segovia. Makes perfect sense to me—with temps this low wearing fur is the only way to dress.

Friday, January 7

Off to find the “phantom” Lladro store. A small shopkeeper had said the password: Serrano. But no matter whom we asked, including the hotel staff, they denied that there was a large Lladro store on Serrano. Not to be deterred, we started out. Using the metro for our first time (quite easy to maneuver) and ending up on a long shopping street after getting off at the further then needed stop and walking backward. We had just about given up when a police lady told us we were a few feet away—and there it was. A large store like the one in Beverly Hills. They had a good collection and we narrowed our choice to an art deco lady, flamenco ladies, a “retired” art deco lady and 3 smaller figurines. I decided that if I could have only one Lladro in my life it would be the gorgeous art deco lady called “Grand Dame”. That decided it. We were to have it, and have it shipped at 100% guarantee. It should be waiting us when we arrive home in a few days. I am SO excited. I can’t believe it will be in our new home!!!

[Then we walked down Calle Serrano and bought a Madrid City Guide by Michelin that turned out topnotch. We continued to walk to the Plaza de Cebelis on her chariot after passing the Archeologic Museum, the Picasso Tower and an art walk. In the Cibelis Plaza was an enormous wedding cake building, The Department of Communications across from the Banco de Espana.

Up the Calle Alcala to the Puerto del Sol and the Plaza Mayor never finding an adequate tasca for tapas. So we ended up with paella and a salad, with sangria and sherry at “La Traviata” across from the Teatro Real. Today the Plaza Mayor was a visible and attractive in a low end Place de Voges way. The scaffolding that was up a couple of days ago for a “shoot” was down.]

We finally make it to the Royal Palace. It had been closed all week due to the death of the king’s mother. She had lain in state in the Palace Chapel—we actually got to see this room on our tour. The room was quite small-the photos in the local magazines made it appear much larger. It turns out the Palace is closed a lot. Whenever the king is at the Palace, which can be 2-3 days a week, the Palace is closed to the public. We latched onto an English tour—you had to wear a yellow sticky badge and I simply found two on the ground and away we went. Some of the most impressive rooms were the Throne Room where the King and Queen greet visitors standing-never sitting on their thrones. There are gorgeous chandelier throughout the building and marble and porcelains and silks and tapestries from various areas of Spain and other areas of Europe. One antechamber had an Oriental theme with an incredible ceiling bearing Asian peoples and designs. Another room was entirely made of porcelain-white, green, and gold colored. The dining room can accommodate 150 guests with the King and Queen sitting in the middle of the table not at the end. The music room holds 5 Stradivarius instruments-2 violins, 2 violas and a cello. The instruments are actually used regularly for chamber concerts. A second music room holds old pianos, guitars, and a harp. There was a room displaying china and crystal of the finest quality and yet another room had silver including the fine mesh Spanish filigrees that I enjoy so.

Saturday, January 8

The Toledo Adventure

I spent last night preparing for this day trip. I had a walking tour guide of Toledo from the tourist guide office in Madrid, but it was in French. Fortunately, my 14 years of French were enough for me to figure out the itinerary

Like other Spanish cities, places are open from 10 AM to 2 PM, then close until at least 3:30 PM. I mapped out the route so we should see all of the major spots before the 2 PM deadline. That’s fine, provided we get there by 10 AM. Since the bus ride is 11/2 hours from Madrid, we got up at 6:30 AM, had a quick breakfast in the hotel and easily navigated 2 metro trains to the bus depot to Toledo at the south side of Madrid. There were only a dozen or so people on the bus but it turn out this was a local bus and not a direct one. We’re the only tourists on this bus; the rest are locals. Many of the young men look like the male figures in El Greco’s paintings—makes sense since he lived in Toledo. The bus stops in tiny places, mostly in poorer areas, along our route. It is very foggy and cold…Zero degrees C and there is frost on the ground. What we can see of the countryside is a flat farmland. When we arrive in Toledo it is still very foggy and we see nothing of the legendary fortress city from afar. Thankfully, my French tour book tells us what we are passing and slightly making out in the fog. We totally miss the Hospital of Tavera that houses El Greco’s last work—it must have been shrouded in the fog. We pass through the Door of Bisagra and past a Moorish Church, Santiago del Arrabel. Another passage through another gate, the Gate of the Sun and a walk down windy and steep cobbled streets toward Plaza de Zocodover, which is the center of the business in modern Toledo. Now there are some shops around the plaza including a McD and a wonderful pastry shop that had a nice glazed chocolate croissant and marzipan cookies—one of the specialties of Toledo.

Although we can’t see the Alcazar, we find it and go inside. It is really a huge stone fortress with large very cold rooms. Some of the rooms were used for the sick and still have the sleeping mattresses in them. It is used as a military museum today. The Cathedral is down some narrow streets. Inside is one of the most awesome altars we have ever seen. It is from floor to ceiling with the typical Spanish wooden statues in vibrant primary colors and layers and layers of gold upon them. There are alabaster carvings of Bible stories, carved choir stalls, stained glass. A most unique feature is a group of statues carved at the top of a corner of the ceiling—like they were about to enter heaven from this ceiling corner of the Cathedral. This was very special.

We then went to a mosque, which was closed, probably because of Ramadan. We walk down more steep hills to the house where El Greco lived. It is near the Jewish section. We attempt to go into the Sephardic Synagogue/museum but are gruffly told to pay and not look. We leave. Down another road is the Synagogue of Ste. Mary the White. It is now an empty building with Moorish arches throughout its interior and an altar wall with Christian symbols—evidence of its history of temple to church. Further down this street is an old monastery, St. John the King, the top of which looks like a king’s crown. In this area was a souvenir shop in which we selected some gold mosaic plates and some porcelain plates. Carl thought the owner looked like a Central European relative who changed his name and religion 500 years ago—probably was the truth. On the was down a hill, Carl drops the bag and chips one of the porcelain plates—woe is he—tomorrow we’ll have to go shopping again.

Toledo is built on rocky hills. It is hard to walk up them and exhausting. Somehow Carl and I are in better shape than we thought and although we went slowly we did walk the city. On our way back to the bus depot, we stopped in at the Museum of Santa Cruz that has El Greco’s “Assumption of the Virgin” and other painting of saints. It also has religious artifacts including priest robes with embroidery of gold and silver, carved chests and tapestries, and a crucifixion painting by Goya.

Carl, of course, has found another way to try to get a great view of the skyline. We walk a couple of more miles up and down the inclines to come to a cut in the, what now seems to me to be a mountain side, and find ourselves hanging over a cliff above the gorge at the base of Toledo. A great view, but what a trek.

By the time we leave Toledo, the fog is gone and we get a few more good views of the city.

But then the afternoon sun blazes and distorts all views.

We certainly got the feeling of this city. It was a very hard place to maneuver. I’m sure few enemies attempted to overrun it—it was once the capital of Spain.

We catch another local bus to Madrid and again we are the only tourists on it. Where did the rest of the tourist go today? Or maybe they knew what a hard walk it would be and decided to sage their legs and feet. Lord knows ours are killing us!!

N.B. I’ve seen “Mary Poppins” twice on this trip…one in French and one in Spanish. Both of course on TV. There are lots of portions of this movie that I’ve never seen before—what version have I been viewing.

I want to see the whole thing when I get home...

Back in Madrid, we dine at the local “VIP’S” restaurant and upon leaving it see “Our New Year’s Eve at the Eiffel Tower” on the covers of both TIME and NEWSWEEK.

Leave it to Carl to pick THE PLACE to be to bring in the New Millennium.

Looks like we’ll make a collage of this trip.

[We made the right call 13 months ago for The Millennium. There is no way to forget the exploding Eiffel Tower. Now for our own personal ravaging, if only we had any energy to do anything. Besides my insomnia rarely stops regardless of the miles I walk daily. I briefly sleep, and then I awaken with agitation. Any noise disturbs me. This is not new, but it is increasing in severity without surcease. It’s as if a raven says “never more” to me. And the shadow I throw is changing rapidly to a non-response. Just as night was once sharp to my senses, it is now a time of aborted observations and feelings, as if my glasses were not fitted correctly to capture the sharp edges of darkness and their intense colors, as my eyes once did. It’s is not that I have lost interest—there is more truth in the night—I just lost the major part of the entry key to it by allowing myself to age.

This day’s trip to Toledo was the most physically hard we’ve ever had on our journeys. We walked up and down mountains and can feel it.]

Madrid is a party town at night. The history of the city is one of centuries of repression and war, including the influence of the Catholic group, Opus Dei, which is an ultra-conservative wing of the Church that dominated life with its Puritanical views. Now, in the light of newfound freedoms, when the sun goes down, people go to dance bars from 8 PM until sunrise. Near our hotel is a disco for 20 year olds and they line up at * PM especially on weekends. There is increased security on the metro and in all shops and restaurants. At 3 AM there is bumper-to-bumper traffic on the streets below us.

Sunday, January 9

Our last day in Madrid, our last day in Spain and our last day of this trip.

It looked like rain, but the ever-redundant CNN says “sunny and 40 degrees F”, so off we go in a light mist, which soon turns, into a light rain. We’re headed for the famous flea market, El Rastro, which is located off the Plaza Mayor. To get there we pass through the Puerto del Sol and locate one of Madrid’s famous landmarks that we did not notice before—the Bear and the Strawberry Tree. This is a sculpture—an English lady who teaches in Madrid takes our photo. Now the Plaza Mayor is completely free of the bleachers that had blocked our first visit here. And we can appreciate the murals and colors on the buildings around this square. The square has a long history of executions in it during the Inquisition and the area does still have a creepy feeling to us. Besides its use as an “entertainment site” for the rich, who sat on the balconies overhanging the plaza, the peasants stood in the arches escaping the summer’s heat and enjoyed the killings also. Now on Sunday mornings, stamp and coin collectors trade and sell around this plaza.

We wind our way down the Ronda de Toledo and encounter the largest flea market we’ve ever seen. It’s packed with people. The rain certainly didn’t keep anyone home. They are selling lots of clothes and shoes, CD’s and cheap quality leather good. Lots of marijuana paraphernalia, tools and kitchen gadgets. Surprisingly, no food is sold.

As we enter the area, we hear sprightly gypsy flamenco music and walk towards it. There is a small side square with a troupe of Gypsies dancing and singing Flamenco songs. We are enchanted and give money to the proffered tambourines. We thought it strange that many of the Madrillenos seemed to back away from the performers—especially the lead dancer. Carl asked a young woman with the troupe if they were “gitanis” and she seemed to guiltily respond, “Si”. Then we heard the lead sing for the first time in a VERY DEEP BASSO. “She” was a He in drag doing the best FLAMENCA we had seen…It was a riot… Actually, the lead was a Tina Tuner-type. And it did explain the hesitation of the Madrillenos.

I had planned on finding inexpensive souvenirs in the flea market, but came up empty handed—no family gifts this trip despite our best efforts.

I did find a painted tile for a doctor’s office, “El Medico esta aqui” and talked Carl into getting it for our office.

Walking from the flea market north we came across a monument commemorating Spain’s joining the European Union.

We then returned to the Plaza Mayor and we went into some of the shops around the arcaded periphery and found a cute clay painted figure of a flamenco GIRL dancer for me and a pewter Don Quixote with Sancho Panza for Carl.

Further walking brought us to the Senate Building adjacent to the ancient Roman walls near the Palace.

Carl always says, “I you don’t walk you don’t see things”, and despite my sore knees and aching feet and rain dripping off of my hair into my eyes, I have to admit he’s right.

We find the tapas bar we ate in a few days ago. Carl orders the caracoles, paella and beer. The nice server teaches him how to take the snails out of their shells with a toothpick and how to suck out the soft shell crabs we also ordered.

[We liked Madrid, but we will find it difficult to create a reason to return to it. We walked everywhere and probably missed very little. The city was very friendly, open and pleasant. It was neither cheap nor expensive. Speaking a bit of the language helped. A nice time with nice food. Decent, attractive people. But we didn’t feel as safe as we did in Paris or in London.]

On Sunday’s walk we had wandered into a church, San Isidro. The statues in it are very large. Lots of Madonnas in ornate robes and huge golden crowns. My favorite was Mary of Sorrows…this statue looked so Spanish—she wears a black embroidered cloak with a crimped head covering. There as a huge statue of Christ wearing a purple robe—you can walk up steps to the back of this and touch his heel. This was one of my favorite churches—it showed a typical Spanish style in a very wealthy fashion.

There is a lot of graffiti on the outskirts of Madrid. At the end of the flea market areas there was a plaza where 20-30 year olds gathered—some skinheads, others in leather and metal—it was obviously a spot where people protested various causes. It seems that all countries have these spots, more so when a part of that country’s history has been one of denial of the freedom of expression. As here in Spain.

Monday, January 10

Last day in Madrid.... last day of the holiday.

Shuttle is on time—other people on board are from Venezia.

The airport is very crowded; especially Iberian Airlines…there is lots of luggage everywhere.

We await an 8-hour flight to NYC.

On the plane, we play our French Monopoly game and draw a crowd around us.

Finally we are on American Soil

The last leg of the trip had many small kids aboard from JFK to LAX. But fortunately they all slept for 6 hours. God, I’ve been up for 24 hours and we have reached LAX yet.

At LAX, What a surprise!! As we disembark there is Hannah waiting to meet me, sobbing with a bouquet of flowers in hand—and Popcorn. She sure did miss me. She’d called the airline and figured out when we would arrive. There she was with “Popcorn”, a.k.a. Heinz. He makes a nice first impression. They are speaking of getting an apartment together—who can keep up with kids??

We take a taxi to our new home. It looks fine. The contractor had tilled the backyard, which makes Carl happy. We decide to spend our first night back in our new home. We makeshift bedding and use towels from the Hotel Dauphine.

We both have severe cramps from too many hours of sitting—mine are in my toes, Carl’s in his thigh.

After a good night’s sleep in our own bed and after 7 months in an apartment, after the death of my dog and a terribly difficult year filled with family affairs, we are ready to settle down to our new life adventure, together, in the New Millennium….

MILLENIUM 1999-2000

Part I: At Death’s Doorstep

By Sandra Nuti and Carl Korn

Tuesday, December 21