Paris: Part Deux..or at least part 1 of part 2...

The middle of February found me once again in Paris. This time, though, I was on my own. And it was Valentine's Day week. How did I come to be in one of the most romantic cities in the world all by my lonesome, you ask? Well, here's the deal. As part of my job, I get one weekend off a month. Unfortunately due to scheduling conflicts, I was unable to take a weekend off in February, but was able to take Tuesday through Thursday. I was excited by this because I thought that perhaps I could find a cheaper flight to somewhere like Austria or Switzerland mid-week. I was wrong. The fares are even more expensive and harder to find. What gives? So, Paris it was seeing as it was the cheapest option---isn't that ironic?

So, I set off to take on the City of Lights on my own. As I had been to Paris before and had seen all of the major sites, I wanted to see the things and explore the neighborhoods that I didn't get to on my first trip. I wanted to see more of the "real" Paris rather than just the Louvre, Notre Dame, etc. I was a little nervous going on my own because 1) I speak no French outside of the easy phrases like please, thank you, etc., and 2) I hate to dine by myself...so this would be my personal gauntlet. It was thrown..and I rose to the challenge.

I arrived to a much colder and much grayer Paris than I had experienced in the fall of 2011. Thankfully, I was prepared for the frigid temperatures and didn't let them deter me from my exploration. I checked into my hotel, hopped on the metro, and made my way to my first stop: Musee Marmottan. Basically, a whole museum dedicated to Monet as it contains the world's largest collection of his work. Does it get any better? His work was breathtaking and I was able to study and stare for as long as I wanted as it was my time, my schedule. The gallery wasn't very crowded and was housed in a lovely old Parisian home. It was wonderful and I fell even more in love with Monet's color, vision, and brilliance. I could have stayed there all day had I not spied the Eiffel Tower from a window on the top floor. And so I bid adieu to Monet and made my way to the Eiffel Tower where I reveled in its size and iconic-ness while enjoying a hot nutella crepe made by a woman in a crepe stand. Again, does it get and better? I, then, walked along the Seine taking in the people of Paris as I listened to Edith Piaf on my iPod. I made my way to the Arc di Triomphe as I hadn't seen it on my first trip into Paris and proceeded to stroll down the Champs Elysess enjoying the occasional street performer. From there, I headed back to my hotel for a quick nap (getting up at 2 a.m. for a 3 a.m. shuttle pick-up was no easy feat for this morning-hating gal) before dinner.

Feeling a little refreshed...I decided to try out a crepe restaurant that I'd read about on Trip Advisor and also in the Rick Steves' Paris guidebook. It was a tiny, little restaurant with only 8 or so tables. 8 tables!! Luckily, they were able to sit me as I was alone provided that I could finish my meal in an hour and a half. An hour and a half? Pssht. I may live in Rome, but I'm still an American...I can eat my dinner in 90 minutes. I'd never had a savory crepe before, so I was excited to try something new as I ordered a crepe filled with goat's cheese (one of my faves), bacon, an egg, and tomato sauce. It sounded like an odd combo, but I waned to try new things...so here we go. Plus, I knew that if it wasn't delicious..the wine that I'd ordered would help with that. Unlike in Italy, the meal also came with a side salad...so I knew if nothing else, I'd have something in my system. Turns out, I didn't need to worry...it was AMAZING. I could not believe how those seemingly diverse flavors could come together and explode on my tongue so wonderfully. The wine enhanced the flavor of the crepe and I was in heaven. Does it get much better? Uh. Yeah. I hadn't had dessert. Dessert. What can I say except....I'm currently drooling thinking about that crepe. Think about this: cinnamon-spiced apples wrapped in a warm crepe with caramel sauce and topped with chantilly creme. Yeah. Enough said. Needless to say, I went to bed that night with a very happy and contented tummy.

I shall leave you here for now...as I need to get some sleep so that I can go out and explore Rome tomorrow, but I promise...I will catch you up on the rest of Paris. Then, after Paris---a great day in Rome. And after that--we'll see...

A tale of woe

She awoke with a start as thunder cracked through the sky, shaking her house just a bit. And as she shook away the remnants of sleep, she heard the rain pound upon the ceiling above her head. It was as if God had forgotten His promise to never flood the world again and had turned on His heavenly faucet in order to drown out those of us down on Earth. Then again, she knew that God was faithful to His Word and wouldn't re-flood the Earth, so it was more that her imagination was running amok and her own distaste of the idea that she would have to go out into the downpour as she must make her way to the train station. Resolved not to let the bad weather get the best of her, she hopped out of bed and went about getting herself together in order to face her day head on.

Dressed and ready to go she entered the kitchen. Sighing, she shook her head, set her purse down, and proceeded to clean the crumbs off of the prep table, put jam that should be in the fridge away, and wash the knives that should have been washed. So was her lot in life lately, she thought. Cleaning up after everyone. She sighed again, picked up her purse, and made her way down the 55 stairs, opened her umbrella, and stepped out the door into the cold, driving rain. It seemed to her that it was the kind of rain that couldn't make up its mind as to which way to fall and so, it fell every which way...to the right, to the left, from the front, and from the back. And while she donned her rain-proof jacket, she felt as though she were soaking up each and every tiny rain droplet. And what was worse, she hadn't even made it out of the driveway yet.

She made her way across the tiny river that used to be a road in front of the house towards the bus stop island. Knowing that passing taxis and buses wouldn't give her any thought standing next to the road, she moved towards the back of the island...giving no thought to the cars that would pass along that side of the street. She paid them no heed..that is until a car sped by, its tires flinging dirty, road water her way and soaking the bottom half of her jeans. Thanks, she muttered to herself. This is a great day! she said to herself in her sarcastic inner dialogue as the bus approached her. She hopped onto the bus, thankful that something seemed to be going her way as she was able to get a seat right away. Finally!

The bus continued on its way, stopping and picking up passengers, and still there she sat, content to be out of the rain and cold for just a moment. As the bus approached the part of the bus ride near Porta Pia when it went from being electric to running on gas again, it stopped. And waited. Nobody seemed to know what was going on and became even more confused when the doors opened. Some people got off the bus while the rest waited. So, she sat there, listening to her iPod and waited too. Finally, the bus moved along slowly until it got to Porta Pia where it pulled up behind another 90. And then it happened. The doors opened, the driver announced something, and everyone got off. Ugh. Really? She disembarked and began to walk. And walk. And walk. Along the way, she texted her friend, Joy, to let her know that her awesome day just got more...awesome. "Bus broke down at Porta Pia, everyone had to get off, in the rain, she said as walked to Termini from Porta Pia in the rain." Joy responded with an ever encouraging: "Lol". She had some respite as the rain subsided a bit as she trudged towards Termini. Thankful for small miracles, she came to another bus stop and was able to board a different bus bound for Termini.

Arriving at the station, she made her way through vendors trying to sell her roasted chestnuts, scarves, iPhone covers, and other useless garbage. Thankfully, she had her iPod and could just make her way through the crowd. Entering the station, she weaved through the people towards the Trenitalia counter to take a number. She withdrew her number, A540. Scanning the board for where the A's were at, her eyes landed on....A-4-4-0. Seriously? 100 people were in front of her? This day...no words could describe it.  She wandered through Termini, bought a coffee, went to the grocery store, and returned to...only 50 people in front of her.

She took a seat on the ledge and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, her number was up! She approached the counter, bought her tickets, and left the station in less than 15 minutes after she went to the counter. Yep, it was that kind of day...little did she know when she awoke that morning that it would be, to quote one of her favorite childhood books: "it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

Just across the way

I have an imaginary friend. Hmmm. I should probably clarify what I mean by that because otherwise, it sounds a bit bizarre.

It's not that she's imaginary; she's quite real. I have known her since I moved to Rome. I say hello and good night to her almost every day while I am in Rome. It's just that she just doesn't know that I exist. Yeah, that still sounds bizarre. Let me clarify further....

At the end of the my hall is a window. This window looks out over and across the back garden to nearby apartments. In the apartment building directly across from me I see a woman almost every day in the same place in her apartment between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. Every day. Our "friendship" began slowly. I would glance out the window as I was leaving the building or on my way to the bathroom and see her sitting on her couch in the living room facing the window. After several months of catching glances of this woman I began to wonder about her. Who is she? What's her story? Does she work? Is she married? Why in the world is she always in the same spot in her apartment?!


So, I have taken to making up stories about her. I will forever wonder who she is, but for now..she's the woman who lives across the way and there's nothing to stop me from imagining all sorts of things...think Audrey Hepburn in "Wait Until Dark"...just sayin'.

Harvest time

This past October found me in the hills of Rome crossing another "must-do" activity off of my "Europe To-Do" list. Olive picking.

My friend, Laura, has a friend, Marti, whose husband works for a seminary just about an hour outside of Rome. The seminary is located in a lovely villa with lots of property. On this property: olive trees. Every October they pick the olives and deliver them to a local man to press the olives for olive oil. This year, though, they didn't have any students in residence to help the harvest. So, Marti called Laura for help and Laura called me. And I said: "Heck yes, I'll help!" And that's how I came to pick olives in the Roman countryside one day.

It was a great and somewhat unusual experience for this city girl. The men who helped with the harvest laid down net-like coverings on the ground around the trees to catch the olives. Then, we would come along with these tools that I can only describe as rake brushes. We would then, quite literally, 'comb' the trees. The tines of the rake would catch the olives and they would drop to the ground only to be caught up into the net. It was dirty, tiring, and all around wonderful! I had a great time and wouldn't mind helping next year. Crossed this off on my list...now on to grape harvesting!

Denied...again

As you know, I arrived back in Rome on Tuesday night. Despite the frigid temps and rain, I forced myself to go out on Wednesday to the grocery store as all I had in the house in terms of food was white rice, black beans, garlic salt, and coffee. And while I like all of those things, I thought they didn't really work in terms of a complete meal. So, I ventured out to the store and picked up a few things to get me through for a couple of days plus some supplies for at least one dinner for myself and the Doyles when they arrived. Well, due to weather issues in the States, the Doyles didn't arrive until yesterday. Needless to say, they were pretty tired when they got in and didn't want to go to the store. Then, today the weather was just nasty---cold and raining again. Once again, they didn't get to the store. But that was ok for the most part because I'd had enough sandwich makings that they could eat lunch and I'd made them pasta the night before. Dinner tonight though was a different story. Since they didn't have any food and they didn't want to go far because they were tired and it was, you guessed it, cold and rainy, they invited me to join them for Chinese at a place just down the street. I hadn't been out of the house since Thursday afternoon, so I joined them.

We've been, or at least I have, been going to this particular Chinese restaurant for 3+ years now. The people and the woman who runs the place know me by now. I wouldn't call those who work there or the lady particularly nice or warm people. They get you in, get your order, get your food, get your money, and get you out. They're not ones for conversation or niceties. At least not with us.

When other patrons, ie. Italians, come in the door, they're overly nice and accommodating. So accommodating that they always give the Italians these free appetizers that we've come to refer to as "elephant ears" because that's what they look like. They're these rice puff thingys in the shape of elephant ears and are served with sweet and sour sauce. In my 3+ years, I have only been the recipient of these twice. Twice. Now, it's not that big of a deal to me because I don't really like them, but it's the principle of the matter...the principle. So, when Sean, Joy, and I noticed that every table around us had these...and I mean every table...well, we weren't too happy. What's wrong with us that we don't get the same kind of service? We order in Italian. We speak to them in Italian. Why aren't we given free stuff? Joy and I were dying laughing at the situation because it seemed so ridiculous. Of course, I thought it was funny, but she was legitimately scandalized.

It may seem like a very minor issue, and it is, but c'mon...who doesn't like free stuff? What does a girl have to do to get free elephant ears!?

Not the end of the story...

When I wrote my previous post I was certain that my friend's brother wouldn't come thru for me. I had another hour until my flight would board and I didn't see how it would happen. So, I sat there in the terminal, wrote my blog, bought a magazine, and made one last trip to the bathroom. And that's when it happened.

As I was washing my hands I heard over the loudspeaker: "British Airways is paging London passenger Kristen S----. Please come to the desk to speak to an agent." What?! I quickly dried my hands and went to the desk where I was informed that Leon (my friend's brother!!) wanted me to go the Executive Club and speak with him. I made my way to the EC where I was greeted by Leon. Now, the funny thing is because I fly this route 4 times a year I was fairly certain I knew who Leon was without having ever met him. I mean, it's not as if British Airways has a ton of staff in Phoenix. I was right! The person I thought he was was indeed who he is. Aha! We greeted one another and he told me that he was working on getting me the best seat for my flight--woo hoo!!---and I had a couple of options. 1) He could upgrade me to World Traveller Plus which would give me an extra couple of inches in leg room and Business Class-type meals, or 2) he could put me in a row of four seats all to myself so that I could stretch out and sleep. What to do? I opted for #2 because my mom, grandma, and I had already gone to dinner, so the food wasn't that big of a deal to me.  So #2 it was. He then told me to please make myself comfortable in the EC. The manager of the club took me in and showed me around. She showed me the lounge where I could help myself to any of the snacks, sodas, beer, wine, teas, coffee, hot chocolate, hot apple cider...well, you get the picture. I could have whatever I want. So, I sat back with a hot mug of apple cider and a snack. My how the other half live!

My flight back to Rome was quite comfy as I had all of that extra space to myself. I was able to sleep (something that almost NEVER happens) and the flight literally flew by...pun intended.

So here I am back in Rome and thankful for the gift that God gave me in Leon and his generosity. It was a great experience and I am so grateful. Of course, I'm still holding out for first class...it will happen!

So close....

I fly between the US and Rome four times a year. That's a lot of time spent in a tiny (well, 747s are not tiny....but their seats and space sure are!) little plane. It takes me about an average of 15 hours to get from one city to the other. That's a lot of time in one space....a lot of time. So, naturally one of my goals has been to get upgraded to first class for free. How to do this? How! I've tried asking nicely...I've tried batting my eyes a bit and smiling a little wider (hey, I'm not above using my God-given charm to get an upgrade)...and I've tried just going to the edge of polite begging. All of this to no avail. And then...a ray of hope. A pocket of sunshine.

I made the acquaintance of a guy whose brother works for British Airways (I typically fly the BA flight between London and Phoenix because it's a great flight and a good airline). So, I asked this gentleman somewhat jokingly...maybe 99% serious and 1% jokingly...if he could ask his brother how I could get upgraded to first class. Well, he asked his brother and he said that if the flight wasn't full.....he could upgrade me. WHAT?!!? Shut up! (Insert Elaine Benes push here) Can we talk about how excited I was at the possibility of this? Anyways, my friend sent his brother all of my information and said he'd be in touch. So, I waited, and waited, and waited....and when I didn't hear anything I just figured the matter was forgotten. Then, last night I received a text from my friend telling me that he didn't forget me, but that he hadn't heard from his brother, but that he'd remind his brother and I would probably see him when I checked in for my flight. There was still hope! And that's how I went to bed last night...with hope and dreams of not being cramped, but being able to lie all the way down in my own little pod while flight attendants catered to my every whim! Whoa...let's not go overboard.

So, I arrived at the airport (buoyed by hope), went the check-in counter, and saw.....all women. Yep. The brother wasn't there. Still, I hoped that there would be some sort of note on my record. I approached the check-in desk, handed the woman my passport, and waited with bated breath as she looked at my passport intently....could it be?? No. She said nothing about an upgrade. So, I asked her if there was a chance for one. Yes, she said. YES! For $300, she said. Noooooo!!! I'm not about to pay $300.

Now, I know that you were hoping for a happy ugraded ending to this story, but alas...it's not meant to be....yet. :0 I fully intend, and hope, to be upgraded sometime....somehow....someway.