PARIS - DAY TWO

We woke up on Sunday morning to what was another amazingly beautiful day. The sun was shinning and I didn't even have to ask for blue sky - there it was, hanging above me.

We had already made plans to hit the cemetery bright and early, and I was really looking forward to it. Although I had no designs on checking out the remains of Jim Morrison (I am really not digging the doors), I did have romantic notions of sitting beside Oscar Wilde's grave. But before we could head to the dead, we had to fill our unsatisfied bellies from the night before (see previous post - NO apple). We did this with a quick stop at the corner market (same prices as Brussels, but a wider selection of apples - Golden Delicious, Mutsu, Pink Lady (yes!), Royal Gala and some other local varieties made up the offerings, this is in juxtaposition to what you get (unless you go to my favourite little bio shop in BO/FO) here in Brussels - Pomme Rouge or Pomme Vert.

We found the most amazing cafe just across the street from our hotel, where we sat and enjoyed the most amazing double espressos ever. They called for a bit of sugar, but I wasn't hurting for my lack of soy milk. They were amazing and the service was excellent. However, it wasn't until a woman and her tiny terrier made their way to the table that I knew I was in love.

We set off for the cemetery, and after a change over on the metro we made it to our destination, stopping only to pick up a map of the rot that was awaiting us. It was perhaps the most astounding and thought provoking experience I have encountered thus far - nothing, in the whole wide and mysterious world of China managed to have the same impact on me as our walk through the cemetery. Searching for the graves of Abelard and Heloise *** took me to a new and almost sacred place of thought. Gertrude Stein in her radical feminist kind of way presented the world with an almost totally word-less grave. When I came across Oscar Wilde's display of grandeur, with its opulence and somatic touches despite it being a cold body of stone , was also quite arresting. This plot of land where so many thinkers, makers and believers find themselves was a heavy morning.


I needed silence and tucked myself in for some mental solitude. It might have been the fact that our previously daring duo was now reduced to the brain capacity of one that could have accounted for the way that we spent the next two hours. We walked forever. And ever. Not a second was a waste or a regret. We did manage to see the massive Eiffel Tower, the Arc d'Triomphe and walk down Champs Elysees. We were not so much lost as we were both trying to find something that was no where near our location - a cafe/restaurant that was vegan friendly. My kisses to K for being so wonderfully patient with me, though I was on my best trying not to be too picky - there just really was almost nothing. In the end we opted for more Japanese, which, wasn't as good, but seemed to satisfy our most immediate needs: food and a place to sit. I munched on a 4 piece roll of kappa maki, a bowl of rice, and some edamme beans. The food was moderately enjoyable, but the service and the atmosphere was subparre. Alright, alright, the food wasn't that great either - but it was good enough and the company was amazing.

We couldn't leave without one more trip to our new favourite cafe and another apple/pear pitstop before heading to the station, a journey which took us past more restaurants than our previously starving bodies could have imagined to have existed in all of paris let a lone this tiny strip! Always the way.

The train ride home was body-jammed and filled with the sound of a cranky baby (or was that me?). The second evening culminated in a chick pea, onion and mushroom meal that I lovingly created for two very exhausted bodies.

Being a vegan on a Paris holiday will require a bit more research. I never did make it to a vegan/veg specific restaurant, but that wasn't the point of the trip - we went to have fun, to explore and to have a new experience. We managed to satisfy all of those desires and so what if we ate Japanese twice - I don't think either one of us were complaining.

This morning I awoke with a burning desire for the simple make it yourself world of fig and banana shakes and my new (and apparently totally Canadian) tea tumbler filled with loose tea. Paris is great, cemeteries are great....but so is my duvet and the shop around the corner. I have to love it all - even (or especially) the rooster on the corner. I listened to Andrew Bird make sweet noises whist thinking about the morning. His song Left Bank seemed ever so fitting this morning. Thanks Andrew.

I just want to close this post with a HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Tori - one of the most amazing teacher-people I know. She is fantastic - even if she does eat cheese (sooooo kidding Tori). Happy Happy Birthday.

***Abelard and Heloise are by far the most romantic couple coming from Medieval History. Do a little research if you are into literature, forbidden love, and letter writing. Fantastic story.

PARIS: DAY ONE

Sometime in the early hours of Saturday morning my stomach struck a deal with the devil and I awoke at 4: 30 am feeling ready to board a train to Paris. I admit that I wasn't 100%, but when you are saying good bye to Brussels, and opting for a weekend of dogs-at-tables, epic walking tours and 'smell my finger' games a twinge in the tummy isn't so bad.

Thus, with mild ache and only a guide book in hand our adventure began.

We started the morning with a bit of granola and soymilk, a cup of tea, and a stop at Sam's Cafe, which, with its garish yellow neon sign, lights up the cellar-like atmosphere of Gare Midi. In true stereotype-style, Belgians, and Brits alike, were chasing their 6:30 am croissant with a bit of Stella. My travel-mate decided that the granola wasn't enough and enjoyed a buttery treat with his espresso. I stuck with my green tea, a decision that was less about veganism and more about my belly.

The train was great! My book, not the curtained-window, blocked my view of the rapidly passing country side. I am currently breaking the well-broken spine of Number the Stars (Lowry) in preparation for an upcoming Read Aloud....it's not that bad thought Holocaust fiction seems to be an easy sell these days. Where would Mosaic be without it?

Tahlys train service from Brussels to Paris (Nord) arrived on time and with smiles from both of us, and almost everyone around - minus a couple of grumps. We ditched our bags at the baggage check and headed for the Metro. We popped out by the River Sienne, just to the South of Notre Dame. Apparently, I looked a bit overwhelmed, and well, I really, truly was. It wasn't just that the sky was the clearest of blue and the weather was more perfect than perfect, it was the depth of our human history that I swam a little further into, that's what pulled my chin down to my sneakers. If getting a sore tummy was my anti-up for this day - it was totally worth it.

We walked past the prison that once held the revolutionized body of Marie Antoinette, and wound our way down to the Pont De Neuf, stopping only briefly before making a bee-line for the Church.

It was here at Notre Dame where bits of me were rubbed raw by the hoards of people, and I couldn't decide if it was better to leave these parts of our history to sanctity and silence, or spread them open for dissection and discussion. I suppose in the end it is about balance. And manners.

A cafe was the next, and most obvious, choice. River, jail, the start of French civilization, church and now great coffee. And it was only 10 am. The Guardian's Saturday edition (of which, I still have no idea of its origins...Kevin.?????) helped us select our next 10 years of travel destinations, and primed us for a great book hunt in Shakespeare and Co. A great book store filled with Whitman and Graphic Novels alike. I just wanted the cat poster.

In search of....not sure.....we trundled up some funky streets, found some great stationary shops, a slew of must-go-there-next-time cafes, and about a million different accents. Hungry (STARVING), and after a bit of a search, we found SUSHI! I couldn't have been happier with the vegan selection. Although the Maki was on the smallish side, I was in desperation. After how many weeks of no Sushi on Bloor I was willing to suck the insides out of an avocado. Kevin had some raw fish, followed by the always favourite 'meat on a stick' - making me only too happy to pay my vegan membership fees for the year.

After the feast, I found some great Pablo Neurda poems in a stocked-full-of-trinkets-bookshop. It was to the Museum of Medical History that sparked our fancy next....and if you are ever thinking of elective kidney stone removal and are in need of some really handy and antiquated tools - this is the place to go! It was amazing actually. A trace of ourselves seen through the eyes (and ears, and noses and brain slices) of a medical archivist. Fantastic stuff.

We couldn't stop our feet from winding their way to Montmartre, on the Artists Walk that took us, eventually (after finding the world's coolest shop, and one of the shops in Amelie) to the Coure Sacred. A great view, a great cover band, and a great attempt on Kevin's part to throw me down a serious flight of steps. We stopped for a mango sorbet and a glass of divine white wine. It was all so "this is the best moment of my life" that I had to fight back tears on more than one occasion.

I have to say that one of the best and most vegany aspects of my time in Europe has been the variety and abundance of totally vegan sorbet (some of the Pear Variety is currently making a home in my post dinner belly).

Onward....the hotel...great place. Amazing bathtub....amazing view, and the BEST twin beds EVER.

We were totally making the most of our time in Paris and we hadn't even had dinner yet. Text messages don't always make for the best directions...so rather than joining the gang of ISBers and Co. we found a fantastic Lebanese place (Nanur) and treated our tummies to some great metze. The vegan-feast (minus K's Kebbeh) included pita bread, parsley-heavy tabbouleh (i swear it usually has cracked wheat???), cold ratatouille (by far the highlight) and babbhaganus. The service was wicked slow, but France was actually winning the rugby game...so, who gives?

After dinner and a jaw dropping stroll past the opera house we met up for drinks with Lara, Danielle, Scott, Armando, Adrienne, Mandy, and Mandy's friend Kristi. The drinks were not that hot, and the company was....an odd assortment, but the night was amazing and marilyn monroe moments were a-plenty.

On the walk back to the hotel (in an unrequited search for une pomme) we past some of the Nuit Blanche events (I swear to GOD I saw Bono) that were decorating an already fantastic city with neon paints and installations.

Night was had and the morning was but a rest away.