My plane was a few minutes late landing, but I had no checked bags. So, I was able to hit the road right away. I would have arrived at the apartment before 11 if I’d just jumped in a taxi. But, no, I had to take the train of course.
Unless you have Euro coins, Americans can’t buy metro tickets from the machines because the machines don’t accept our credit cards. I waited in line for a long time to get one little ticket to get me into town. Next time, maybe I’ll take the Roisy Bus which drops you off at the Opera, a stop on the 9-metro line, the one I need. I had to transfer twice to get to Montreuil, but I was there by noon.
M was out when I arrived, but JP told me to get washed up and ready for lunch. I took a shower and sorted myself a little. Their guest room is extremely comfortable – I don’t know why they don’t use it for themselves… other than it wouldn’t fit two single beds. The room has a balcony with a splendid view of city hall, which I have mentioned before has been run by a democratically-elected communist government for the longest of any place in the world.
France isn’t perfect (what?!). Outside the guestroom balcony in Montreuil (back in Paris metro region), there’s city hall and the town square in front, and a new theater center to your left, but between it all and this 9-story residential building is a parking lot chained off even from cars. The issue is a historic pharmacy on about 1/15th of the lot which apparently prevents anyone from building there at all. I should add that all this is less than one block from the Metro. I blame the development mentality and the (gasp!) capitalism of land use.
They claimed to have slaved all of yesterday making the lunch, but I think that was secret code for they just pulled it out of the freezer that afternoon. We had stuffed scallops and sautéed veggies, then salad, then cheese, then fruit of course. I ate a plum. It was delicious. Then coffee and chocolate. Of course.
The coffee probably kept me from napping, but after an hour of lying in bed, I feel asleep only to wake up an hour later feeling like my body was encased lead. Jet lag is a terrible thing. They should really find a cure for that.
I managed to get through lunch without a drink but not dinner. We drove to the Champagne region in the late afternoon, and I could hardly refuse a glass of bubbly in its native land. It would have been rude. We’re visiting their cousin, R, in the small town of Dizy just outside of Epernay.
We are in France, so all activities emphasize food. First, we had an appertif in the garden. Then dinner in the “winter garden”. The others watched some television (en francais) and I went to sleep. Petit dejeuner was toast and fruit with coffee. I was delighted that she had decaf. Then, we went to the market in Epernay.
French markets are also a really special experience rather like the horn of cornucopia spilling out of a parking lot. Speaking of parking lots, every little town here has paid parking in its center. People drive, but they rent invisible places to store their cars at their destinations. That way, town centers can be completely pedestrianized.I was particularly impressed with the parking in Reims, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
We went back to the house for lunch and had a leisurely meal in the garden with champagne and all the requisite courses. It went rather long for me, and I slipped away for a nap before the fruit (final) course after two hours. Drinking even one glass of champagne midday puts me straight to sleep ...Not to mention the jetlag.
After a rather substantial nap, we went to Reims to see the town and Cathedral.
Neither M nor I had ever been there before. The parking was 5 stories underground below the pedestrianized city center, and little lights in the pavement indicated vacant spaces.
Drivers paid with their credit cards upon exiting using the same slot where you also stuck your ticket to be processed.
This would be a great region for a little bike trip. Plus, there’s bubbly everywhere which is a perfect reason get off your bike (when there are really only a few good reasons to stop biking).
Here we are again, back at the house in Dizy, getting ready for dinner. The plates we used are hand painted with flowers, and we always have two sets of glasses, one for champagne and one for wine. (I use my wine glass for water generally.) Our napkins go in little doily slipcovers when not in use so we can tell them apart. R is babysitting the cutest little cocker spaniel you ever saw named Prunelle.
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