French Food

I can't finish blogging about France until I've spent a little time writing about the food. THE food. The FOOD.  I had high expectations. And those expectations were not only met, they were exceeded.

Our first dinner in Paris was at a cafe on the corner of Boulevard Magenta, just two doors down from our hotel. As soon as I saw "croque monsieur" sandwiches on the menu, I knew what my first meal in Paris would be. I had taken a cooking class from Michele Reynolds a couple years back, and we had made these. I convinced everyone but my husband, and we ordered 6 croque monsieur sandwiches (my husband opted for Pad Thai - which I thought was crazy! Thai food in Paris? Really? So funny!) The sandwiches did not disappoint. Gooey melty cheese, white sauce, thick ham slices, and bread. Oh yum! (For the record, my husband quite enjoyed his Pad Thai too.)

We tried to stop at every bakery and street stand that offered fresh croissants. But the small restaurant right outside of the Louvre was particularly memorable. I ordered a quiche, Madi ordered a baguette, and Leasie ordered an apple pastry. They were warm, flaky, and buttery. We shared bites. We sat under the shade of the Tullerie trees and ohhhed and ahhhhed and mmmmmmed.

In Munster it was all about cheese and fresh fruit. We walked to the Tuesday outdoor market at the town square. The juicy strawberries tasted like a completely different fruit from the strawberries we can get in Jakarta. We ate them out of the carton like candy.

 

One of my favorite moments was sampling cheese from these huge round blocks at the outdoor market. Smokey and rich in flavor. We purchased a small slice - possibly the most expensive cheese I've ever purchased, but worth every penny.

  

We made sandwiches nearly every day. Huge sandwiches - almost two hand-lengths for each person. I know it seems strange to write about something as normal as a sandwich. But that's the thing. These weren't just normal sandwiches. The bread was the perfect consistency. The tomatoes had flavor (beyond the cardboard tomatoes we can get here). And the meat and cheese! It was like eating from a gourmet bistro, but we had made them in our kitchen. 

Finally, my favorite food moment of the trip. We ate at an outdoor cafe in Colmar. I ordered the potatoes au gratin - an Alsace specialty. The dish came in a small cast iron pot. The potatoes were smothered in munster cheese, slices of bacon, and cream.

Every bite was divine.

It was a good thing we walked everywhere and took 6-7 mile runs each morning because when it came to eating, I did not hold back. If food is joy (which I think it is) then France is perhaps one of the most joyful places on earth.

The First Last

Yesterday was our last Idul Fitri holiday. And so began the first of many lasts. As I enter our final year here in Indonesia, I find that I'm trying to see things with new eyes. And I'm trying to experience fully...in order to remember.

I ran on empty roads for my early morning run. No traffic. No bajai's lined up waiting for passengers. Even the flower stalls opened later than sunrise. The stillness and absence of the normal hustle and bustle was almost eerie.

As I rounded one corner along my route, I faced a crowd of Indonesians pouring out of a nearby Mosque. The women wore long white dresses and veils. The children were adorned in bright colors: hot pinks, turquoise, lilacs.

 

Then men donned batik sarongs. Many carried individual prayer rugs, rolled and tucked under their arms. They smiled and talked amongst themselves as they returned to their homes for their Idul Fitri feast.

The road in front of the Mosque was covered tip to tip with prayer rugs - evidence of the large holiday crowd that exceeded the normal capacity of the building. I stopped at the first long green rug - my route was completely blocked. I watched as men began to roll the rugs. The men were barefoot - their shoes lined up neatly outside the Mosque. I wondered if I should turn around and finish running another direction. But I decided, instead, to remove my running shoes out of politeness and walk along the outer edge in my stocking feet.

I carried my running shoes in my hand. I felt the cushion of the rugs and cardboard boxes beneath my feet.

The men rolling the rugs greeted me with smiles and salutations of "good morning" (Salamat Pagi) and "Happy Idul Fitri" (Salamat Hari Raya Idul Fitri). Their faces were bright and inviting.

Having passed the Mosque, I bent over and put my shoes back on.

The feeling of the morning was wonderful. And I felt so grateful to be here, to have caught a glimpse of beauty and celebration on this last Idul Fitri.        

Fairytales

CJ: "Mom, is this the town from Beauty and the Beast?"

Tman: "Mom, is this town real? Or is it a pretend town like Williamsburg or the ones at Disneyland?"

The town of Colmar looked so much like the fictional representations of fairytales, my children had a hard time believing this was REAL.

 

From the crooked buildings painted in bright blues, yellows, and pinks to the meandering canal with charming bridges and flower boxes...it was easy to imagine Belle coming around the corner singing "Bonjour!"  

 

And just a short drive away, sitting majestically atop a hill...a real castle.  The Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg was built in the 1100's (wowza!) and was restored between 1900-1908.  

 

 Leasie and CJ shot arrows from the archery windows.

Real spears in the castle armory.

Tman leaves the castle armed and dangerous with his Mace.

I have nothing profound to say about this. All I have to say is that I may not live a fairytale life, or have a fairytale ending. And that's okay. My life is much more complicated than easily recognizable villains, princes on white horses, magic, or even the too simplistic "happily ever after." But these days in France were as close to a fairytale as I will get. I loved exploring, eating, and watching my kids experience this beautiful, real-life place. 

As Far Away As Possible

 I had a great crazy idea. I wanted to get as far away from Jakarta as possible - not literally, as in distance, just as far away from the kind of place Jakarta is. Not forever. Just for a week...or two.

I wanted clear, blue skies. Air that smelled clean and sweet. No traffic. Lots of parks and trails. Space to walk and walk and walk.

I found my ideal destination...in Alsace, France. The great crazy part of this idea was that I decided we should rent cars (carS with an S because Europe doesn't have a lot of 7 passenger car rental options) and drive from Paris to Munster. I wanted the freedom of a car (instead of a train) so we could just pick up and go wherever and whenever we wanted.

The drive from Paris to Munster is long. Crazy long. Google Maps said 4.5 hours. It was closer to 6.5 hours. Plus, I was driving on the opposite side of the road than I had been for the past 2 years. A little stressful.

 

We relied heavily on Judy (our GPS), but she led us astray a couple times. Our favorite was when she instructed, "Turn left onto unpaved road" at a point when there was no road...only a forest thick with pine trees...and a very steep cliff. Ah Judy. We gave her a break after that.

 

The car rental was also crazy expensive. When pricing out train tickets verses car rental, I kind of forgot to add in insurance prices and the whole buying gasoline part. Ouch.

In spite of the crazy. My idea worked.

Can I tell you how wonderful it was to wake up every morning and look out my window at this view? Tears. Daily.

Do you see those hills behind the clock tower? Owen and I took the most incredible morning runs through those hills. The air smelled of fresh cut grass, wildflowers, and trees. It smelled green. My lungs sung praises to the clean air.

Each day, we walked into the town for fresh bread. My children played at the town square and at the nearby shady park.

On our first full evening in Munster, Owen and I took a walk in the hills behind our chalet. We walked until the sun set and the sky turned from azure blue to deep violet. We walked past small, well-kept gardens. We admired the window boxes dripping with flowers. We walked and walked and walked. We walked until my legs ached. But it felt so good to be outside. In the clean air. There was no buzz of traffic - the only sounds were our feet on gravel, the laughter of children playing at a nearby school yard, and a periodic moo from grazing cows.

To walk in clean air. Surrounded by nothing but quiet and green hills. Such a blessing.

Don't get me wrong. We love our Jakarta experience. But it was wonderful to be as far away from Jakarta as possible for this week.

A Gift

At the recommendation of friends who had traveled to France, we went to the Musee D'Orangerie to see Claude Monet's Waterlily murals.

The museum is not well marked - but easy to find - just off to the right, at the end of the Tullerie Gardens. 

Inside the museum, we found the complete opposite of the Louvre. Gone were the lines, the clicking of cameras, and the shoulder to shoulder crowds.

Instead, it was quiet. 

Peaceful.

The diffused light from the skylights created a softness.

And without instructing my children, they immediately assumed a hushed, almost-reverent attitude.

Monet's masterpieces occupy the walls of two oval-shaped rooms. We sat on the cushioned benches in the center of the rooms to marvel and wonder. We walked up close to see the individual brushstrokes and the surprising mix of colors, from florescent orange to lime green, almost hidden amid the predominant hues of blue and lavender.

I had packed pastels and sketch pads for this visit. We stayed for over an hour, letting the kids draw, reflect, and enjoy.

I snapped this single picture before a "room monitor" quietly asked for no photography. 

Monet painted these murals as his final gift to the world. Though he had already bequeathed them to the French government, he could not bear to part with them. The rooms were built in the museum to Monet's specifications, and then the walls remained empty until after Monet died. 

We read that Monet wanted these paintings to be a gift of healing and a gift of solace to anyone who came seeking a break from the world. 

 It is one of the most beautiful places I've have ever visited.

Paris Part Deux

Our Paris Afternoon:

After walking through the Tuilerie gardens and a stop at the Musee D'Orangerie (worthy of its own blog entry), we took the metro to the Notre Dame stop. From our previous evening's walk, we'd already seen Notre Dame. But today we wanted to climb to the top. This was mostly for CJ who has a healthy obsession with "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" - the Disney movie...alas, not Victor Hugo's classic...maybe someday :). The line of people waiting to climb to the top was daunting; it extended from the entrance, around the corner, and went almost the length of the cathedral. I walked down to the end and prepared myself for a long wait in the hot afternoon sun. 

A few minutes later, a worker came down the line, took a look at my crew and asked, "Are these all your kids?"  

"Yes," I replied rather sheepishly.  

"Come with me," he instructed."You can skip the line."

What? Had I heard him correctly?

I was actually being rewarded for having lots of kids?! Happy Day! I love France!

So we walked past the very long line and went inside the significantly cooler, dark building. CJ prided herself on climbing all the stairs to the top, keeping a constant lookout for Quasimodo.

 

We did not find Quasimodo. But we heard the bells. We were at the top of the cathedral at the two o'clock hour. The bells pealed through the afternoon air. I could feel the vibration of the deeper chimes in my chest. 

Being upclose, sometimes face-to-face, with the gargoyles was very cool. The stone was rough against my hands, and I was impressed how well the gargoyles had held up to weather, wars, and even a cathedral fire. CJ was pretty sure she saw the exact gargoyle Frolo fell from. 

  

  

But out of the hundreds of gargoyles, these were by far my favorite ones:

  

Paris by Night:

When planning our 24 hours in Paris, the number one item on my list was the Eiffel Tower. But I had heard/read horror stories of long lines. When I tried to buy tickets online, to avoid the lines, the ONLY time left was 10:30 at night. I remember turning to my husband to tell him our only option with a plea, "Do we dare?" We looked at each other knowing 10:30PM could potentially be miserable for our family of early-bed-goers. But as a once in a lifetime experience, we chose to book the tickets.

What that translated to in reality was that CJ fell asleep at 9PM and my dear husband carried her the entire way to the Eiffel Tower. Holding her on the metro wasn't so bad. But carrying the 40+ pounds of deadweight from the metro to the tower was an act of true love. I know CJ will not have any memories of this part of the trip. But I will always remember watching my dear husband carrying her along the streets of Paris.

CJ, in Dad's arms, on the metro:

 

Here we are walking to the Eiffel Tower. The sun had just set (it stayed light until quite late). We were about 1/2 mile away...a long walk for my sweet husband.

Like the French baguettes and the delectable pains du chocolate, The Eiffel Tower did NOT disappoint.

A surprise:

I knew we were the last group of the night to take the elevator up the tower, but I didn't know that the lights of the Eiffel Tower twinkle at the top of the first hour after dark. So while on the tower, looking out over Paris, you can imagine our surprise and delight when all of sudden the lights began to twinkle. The lights danced up and down the steel beams. The entire structure shone like a giant Christmas tree. The crowds around us cheered, and we could hear people below clapping and cheering at the sight. Although the picture below doesn't begin to capture the brilliance or our amazement, it is our record of the added bonus of the night: 

The kids (minus sleepy CJ) were absolutely giddy. They pointed out landmarks like the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe. They oohed and ahhhed at the fireworks we could see in the distance from Versailles. They loved the experience even more than I could have imagined.

I love this selfie of the three girls...on top of the world!

 

Here we are on the Eiffel Tower! It was cold and blustery. But absolutely beautiful. CJ finally woke up for about 15 minutes. Just long enough to see the twinkling lights and snuggle her Dad. 

We could not have packed our Paris day any fuller. We saw everything on our bucket list...and then some. And life surprised us with unexpected bonuses, perhaps even "tender mercies" - like the skipped line and the twinkling lights. There on top of the Eiffel tower, in a city I never dared dream to visit, time stopped for a moment. I took in the stars, the lights of the city, my smiling children, my patient husband, and my heart soared.

In the future, when I'm having a bad day (cuz I know I'll have plenty of those!) and I need a "happy place" to go to in my mind...this will be the place.

Paris

Our bags are unpacked and stacked in the outside storage room. We've recovered from the fog-flu of jetlag. And Madi has already created a family slideshow of our trip (which is over an hour long!). As it is with many incredible experiences, our France vacation seems almost like a dream.

So even though it was over one month ago that we sat at the feet of the Winged Victory in the Louvre, ordered bread and buttery pastries from the Boulangerie on the corner of the Boulevard Magenta, and saw the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower, I will take a few entries to record some of our experience. Perhaps then it will seem a little less dreamlike and serve to keep the memory of the joy alive.

Our First Parisian Evening:

After checking into our hotel, The Hotel Magenta (which to our surprise was much nicer than its name suggests), we decided to walk to Notre Dame. The streets were damp from an afternoon rain shower. As we walked through a strange ghetto-like section of Paris (lots of wig stores catering to various ethnicities), we began to worry that our expectations of Paris were not going to be met.

However, once we crossed to the River Seine, we were met with a breathtaking view of both Notre Dame and in the distance, the Eiffel Tower.  

This is perhaps, my favorite picture taken of the entire trip:

 

Do you see the Eiffel Tower over my husband's shoulder? 

Ahhhh, Paris.  

Surprise at the Louvre:

The next morning we took the Metro to the Louvre. Here's what I remember most vividly: after emerging from the Metro and crossing the street, we walked through a stone tunnel lined with columns and ornate doors. It was dark, cool, and beautiful. I looked up at the towering ceiling (Madi just happened to catch this moment in the picture below). The ceiling was adorned with carvings - a mixture of floral and leaf patterns - and I felt as though I was walking through a church.

Framed by the exit of this tunnel-walkway, I caught my first glimpse of the glass pyramid of the Louvre. 

I was surprised by my emotional reaction. I got a bit choked up as we walked toward the iconic structure. I think I was overwhelmed with gratitude (maybe a little exhaustion too). You see, for as many years as I took French (2 in high school, 3 in college), I never actually expected to visit France. It was too foreign. Too exotic. Too expensive. But here I was. With the people I love most in the world, sharing this incredible experience.

 

The entry line was thankfully short. We bought our tickets and started our lightening-fast tour of the Louvre. We had 6 items on our list: Mona Lisa, Virgin of the Rocks, Virgin and Child with St. Anne, Winged Victory, Venus, and Coronation of Napoleon. I know it was such a short list, but we were doing Paris in 24 hours.Yes, there were crowds. Yes, we got lost a couple times. But it was wonderful, nonetheless.

Elise and Mona...need I say more?

A Jewel:

After finding and viewing the 6 masterpieces, CJ, Tman, and Amelia had had enough of the Louvre. Madi and Elise, however, had seen something on the map they wanted to find. So my good husband took the three youngest outside, and my girls and I went to find Vermeer.

Vermeer was tucked away on the opposite side of the Louvre on the top floor. As with all the Vermeers I've seen, it was small, but worth the extra time to find. I will always remember standing in front of this painting with my daughters talking about the light and the detail of the strings and the pins on the pin cushion. Unlike other parts of the Louvre, this room was nearly vacant. It was quiet, except for our whispers. It was a jewel worth hunting for and a precious moment with my girls.