Last Mango in Paris

How cool. On Sept. 25th we flew into Paris for a long weekend, to meet Ran's brother, Dan and his wife Janet...and we found them hangin out of the rented apartment's balcony, within view of the Eiffel Tower. It was really an exciting beginning to a couple weeks of traveling and adventure with them. We found out from the apartment owner a few days before arriving that one of the two showers was not working. It ended up being a non-issue that took off 200 euros from our bill and made the whole setup a pretty excellent deal for the 4 nights we were there.

We started our first day with the over-priced but effective "Hop on, Hop off" bus tour of the city. It's a great way to get the lay of the land and recognize the massive undertaking you are up against, in trying to see Paris during one long weekend. We decided to hop off that first day at the Notre Dame cathedral. We toured this incredible church, which began construction in 1163 and was the largest cathedral in France at the beginning of the 13th century. I had read recently about the use of stained glass windows way back when and how it amazed folks. They had just started getting used to being inside these huge stone churches, when building techniques in the 13th century starting allowing for much larger window expanses as well. Churches all around Europe suddenly went from being dark and cold, to having the overwhelming beauty and warmth the sun could provide. Then when they started using stained glass windows, the bright kaleidoscope of colors left people awestruck. They had never seen anything like it. I could understand what they felt there. Randi took note of the colored light coming into the altar of one of the side chapels and we got a nice picture of that.

That first night there, to celebrate just being together, we went through a few (x2) bottles of wine. When in Paris...drink wine? It's almost a catchy phrase. Anyway, it seemed like the right thing to do. We stayed up late, catching up on lost time and even recounting how each couple had first met.

We woke up to what would be a constant pattern of beautiful weather the whole time they we in town...mostly sunny and in the low to mid 70s. We decided to take a short walk to the d'Orsay Museum and after a few long miles, we were there. It felt like Dan and I were in the winning 'school of thought' for once but it didn't seem to work out that way. We did see a little slice of Paris on the walk. By accident we walked right by Sarkozy's pad, their White House, the Elysee Palace. There were picket signs and posters outside of the place. I think they were saying something like "we need organization" and "somebody needs to make a decision for once" and "smoke em if ya got em" and then just "wine and cheese, wine and cheese"...but those are just guesses on my part. Then on the last block of this walk we were shown the ol' ring scam, twice!, as described in the book of Rick Steves. It's all part of the culture there.

The d'Orsay proved to be almost the preferred collection of art over the Lourve, with everything shown from 'Whistler's Mother' to 'Mother's Whistler' (please make private inquires to me to see this stunning masterpiece). Their collection of Van Gogh paintings was awesome. Here's one that looks like there a giant chicken in the middle of the painting, next to the house. Doesn't anybody see that! It was amazing to be so close to them, that you actually could not only see the vivid colors but see the heavy application of paint he used. Dan and I were surprised that these well known pieces were not behind glass and were within arms length...we could actually touch them, if we weren't the kind of art lovers we are. Our keen interest in the collections there was obvious to everyone, as we received many nods and smiles, when we started the tour with Janet's new 5-way Ipod splitter in use. We had to shuffle our feet collectively, to stay in step with each other. And I knew going into it that we would need at least a 40 foot cord for Randi, so she could move at her typical pace through a museum without dislodging the ear pieces from the rest of us. She's very thorough in a museum. She once spent over 20 minutes standing in front of Lincoln's stovepipe hat...true :) The 5-way trend didn't last long but it was fun.

That night we went to the Montmarte area to see the Sacré-Cœur Basilica, walk around the area and have dinner. The basilica didn't allow photography inside but I had a misfire and got this shot of the magnificent dome there. The basilica is located at the highest point in the city and there were hordes of people with their annoying cameras taking pictures of the panoramic view from just outside the church. From there we strolled back through the crowded streets and found a cozy little
restaurant just off the main drag. The girls enjoyed some fondue for dinner, as we were serenaded by kind of a grumpy Spanish guitarist workin at the Butte En Vigne French restaurant. He wouldn't even look at us, after I took this picture of him.


The following day we took on the monumental task of touring Versailles. We took the train there and briefly questioned where it was when arriving at the stop but were happy we didn't question some Frenchman with "où est le Palace ?"...as it was kinda hard to miss. The ultra-grand Palace and grounds were massive. French royalty lived there starting around 1660 and things went pretty well, until that whole French Revolution thing started. After you see the amount of over the top and dare I say, absurd opulence of the place, you can't hardly blame the people for revolting after you walk through there. The Kings and Queens thought of themselves as Gods. There was a nice story about Louis XIV having multiple servants that would wake him up in the morning...the Royal Wakeup, if you will...and he had a nurse who would kiss him and change his sweaty shirt everyday. I'm not makin that up...why would I make up that stupid sh*t. They said when they first built the Palace, the town there was just a small village way out in the country of Paris. I think the commoners might have taken notice to the difference between their lifestyle and shacks that they lived in, to the royal wakeup atmosphere and their buildings made of gold. This pic is of us in the ridiculously large garden area behind the main palace at Versailles. We had a beautiful little royal lunch at a restaurant right there in the royal gardens. As the day went on, we continued to walk farther out into the royal maze, for what seemed like miles. It was a beautiful day and we were there to see it all. We searched deep into the maze for the incredible water fountain show advertised but only found kind of a single spout, straight up kind of a thing, on the lake there...but it shot water up real high! So we went on our way to see the last piece that we didn't see yet, the "The Queen's hamlet", built for Marie Antoinette, when the whole 'Park of Versailles' that we were in, started to close. That was fine, as it was very comfortable weather for a long hike. But the fact all the bathrooms were even closed and we were miles from civilization, started to make the whole thing have a feel of a royal nightmare. But we found our way back out of the maze...like mice, following the scent of cheese and wine.

We went to the Louvre of all places the following day. We made great time getting out of the apartment and didn't have a minute to spare for our 2:15pm guided tour. Ya gotta get up pretty early in the morning, to beat us out of bed. We enjoyed having the guided tour, so we could have someone give us a nice short and concise tour of the Lourve. Our guide was a shorter, hard to hear, kinda gal and she was a tricky one. She tried to ditch us a few times, darting around corners, hiding behind sculptors and finally in an all out sprint to the finish...we never even said goodbye. But it was good. Obviously, the place is amazing. I'm like an art connoisseur now. Here's my favorite work of art at the Lourve. :)

From there we all flew back to Toulouse to try to rest and work a little, before we all would take another long weekend in the French Rivera and Provence. It's a tough gig.

It's definitely short

On Thursday, Sept. 24th, I had my hair cut. It was only the second time I've had my hair cut in France. I try not to have people who I don't understand what they are saying, touch me...you touch me, I'll kill ya.

The first time I had it cut it was by the artistic, life-coach, Max, who when I told him I typically use a #3 razor to cut the sides of my hair, he refused and showed a resemblance to Edward Sceissothands! Seriously, he was clipping away at an amazing pace, without stopping to measure or workin a comb. He made me an expresso and then at one point, stopped cutting and demanded I finish my expresso before it got cold. A shot of expresso is a terrible thing to waste in France. The other thing he asked me to do was grow sideburns. Kinda funny. Historically I haven't been involved with a lot of hair growth. I tried this for about a week but started to look like one of the Klopek's in the Tom Hanks movie The Burbs.

I didn't go back to Max Pour L'homme, he was too expensive (33 euros) and he would have been disappointed in me. Instead, I went to the mall hair shop (only 16 euros) and actually found a gal who spoke some English to cut my hair. When I told her I typically use a #3 razor, she looked surprised and said "that's very short". I knew a #3 as being short as well but didn't think anything of it and said "no problem, go for it". So after she cut one side of my head, she said "there it is". I looked up and couldn't believe it. It looked shorter than I've ever seen it. She asked where I usually get it cut and I said "ahhh...in the US". She smiled and said "I think the US is a 3 centimeter razor, where we are using a 3 millimeter". Ohhhh....rigggght.

Anyway, sorry for the long Facebook-like status update. I'm just writing this as a service to anyone who comes from the US to Europe and gets their haircut. Know that, your hair could end up 10 times shorter than you thought.

Kirsten and Jackson on tour

On Friday, Sept. 11th, Kirsten and Jackson flew into Toulouse. We picked them up at the airport and it was really great to see their smiling faces.
We went out for an authentic French restaurant that night and had a fantastic meal. For the starter or what the French call the Entrée , Kirsten and I had the "Croustillant de Poulet aux Artichauts et Asperges vertes sauce au Foie Gras"...you know, like your Mom used to make. What it actually is is a combination of chicken, artichokes and asparagus pressed together, put in a pastry and then they bake the son of a b*tch. Then they lather it up with “Foie Gras” sauce. It's very rich and damn good! I had seen someone else having it, the one other time I was at this place and was glad I didn't miss it this time. Then for the main plat I think 3 of us had the "Escalope de Saumon d’Ecosse à la crème d’oseille et pâtes fraîches". This was a thin fillet of Salmon with a sorrel sauce on top of a little tower looking creation of pasta (it's on the tabled in the pic). This was very good as well. We finished with our choice of dessert. I had an what we all agreed was an excellent crème brulée and Kirsten had one of my new favorite desserts here in France, the amazing L’ile flottante or "floating island" of goodness.

The next morning we had a quick bite to eat, that included the 'fabulous little melons' Randi had graphically discussed with us the night before. Then we drove south to Barcelona, Spain. We again stayed at the Prestige Congress, as we did a month ago with our kids. This time the rate was 75 euros, even though "I thought they said 69" when I made the reservation. I repeated that to the front desk a few times but it didn't seem to mean anything to them and it started to sound weird to me, so I stopped and agreed to the 75 euro rate...still not bad. We had a good time that Saturday, visiting a couple locations of architect Antoni Gaudí’s most famous buildings. First we went to the incredible and almost indescribable Sagrada Familia. I'll leave it at that...because I can't describe it. Then we strolled through the just as sylish, maybe a little less crazy of a concept, Park Guell. Randi described this place before as being 'Dr. Seuss meets the Taj Mahal'. It is a beautiful and really magical looking place, with winding trails laid out with many different architectural styles based on nature elements, using thousands of pieces of mosaic tiles. People were snapping pictures constantly. Jackson found himself in the way a couple times but he didn't seem to care really...he's gigantay!! :)
For dinner that night we went down to the Port Olimpic area, on the hunt for JohnE style Scandinavian paella...tough to find in Spain...but we found something like it! After being told repeatedly by the maître d’ to order the sea bass, we all had the paella. It turns out that JohnE still makes the best paella...and that's now covering a very impressive 4000 mile radius.
Sunday turned out to be one of the most fun days we've had, since being in France. We started the day playing the part of art connoisseurs, visiting the Museu Picasso, in the interesting Born area of Barcelona. There was a lot of pondering being done. What could pass as looking like we were contemplating the impact of Picasso's modern art, was for me just selfishly wondering 'if I could have this piece in my house, would it continue to interest me long-term and where would I put it?' Frankly, I wouldn't want most of his work in my house. For example the piece titled
"La Nana", the dwarf dancer, looks as though it inspired the movie 'Chuckie'. I suppose Jack might like this midget masterpiece but I would be terrified to have that in my house. However, there were other pieces, like "First Communion", "The Doves" and other landscape paintings, that were incredibly cool. From there we went to the Barri Gòtic (Gothic district), in the heart of Barcelona, for lunch and to visit the gothic cathedral known as La Seu. The cathedral is officially named Cathedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulalia but I like to call it the Cathedral de la Niña, la Pinta y la Santa María. The church along with the 14th century cloister was very interesting. We also had some time to do a little shopping, where Jackson considered purchasing some cropped, tight green pants. The store owner wasn't sure why we were laughing at first and suggested maybe trying some other vibriant colors they had in stock, until he realized Gigantay had no intention of purchasing them. From there we went back to the hotel for a short nap before getting ready for the big game!! It was the Minnesota Vikings opener against the Cleveland Browns. Jackson scoped out the game on the web and found the George Payne Irish bar in Barcelona had NFL football on. We arrived not knowing which NFL game was on and were slightly discouraged seeing a Philedelphia Eagle jersey wearing fan walking in but it turned out that most NFL fans for Week 1 wanted to see Brett Farve in a Minnesota Viking jersey and that's what SkySports had for us at the bar. And Jackson and I didn't disappoint any of the Spanish Irish NFL fanatics with our new Farve jerseys on, provided by our good buddy Jack. It was incredible. I kept thinking that if someone would have told me a year ago that on this day I would be living in France, traveling to Spain, to watch the Vikings in an Irish bar, while wearing a Brett Farve Minnesota Viking jersey, I would have said "get away from me ya weirdo" or something like that. It was great to see the Vikings get the victory to start the year. It makes me wonder if the road to the Super Bowl actually starts in Spain?? We had an unusual amount of nachos and beer that night and didn't feel so good the next day but man it was fun and well worth it.

The following weekend, on Sept. 18th, after K&J spent their week in Cinque Terra, we picked them up at Girona, Spain airport on Friday night and went to 'storm the castle' in Carcasonne on the way home to Toulouse. In a metal steed called a Peugeot 308, they rode for miles. All the while drinking wine and eating a king's share of bread and cheese.
We arrived in Carcasonne after midnight and thought we may not even be able to get in the fortress section of the cite. But while this fortified city has withstood centuries of attacks, they have not encountered a formidable enemy the likes of Randi Mae and the Knights of Vin Rouge.

We were able to walk the empty streets of Carcasonne...much different than the couple other times we had been there, during the daytime. We ended up walking upon a rockin company party where the employees were a bit out of control, pole dancing, crack riding and pants sliding. There would definitely be some explaining to do, come Monday in the office. It was very entertaining.

On Saturday we took a short car ride to Cordes-sur-Ciel. We parked conveniently at the base of the town, so we'd be able to see most of the town while climbing the steep incline. We had a nice time hitting the little shops there. It's one of those classic cute, little French villages and we were not disappointed by it's charm. From there we planned to drive through the vineyards of Gaillac and made our first stop at the Manoir de L'Emmeillle vineyard, where Randi and I had been a month earlier. The vintner remembered us and continued his French language lessons with the four of us. We felt as though we passed and made our way to a second vineyard, Domaine de la Tronque. They owners there were really nice people. They gave us a tour of their winemaking process which was really fun. However, they had one wine that possibly has the worse bouquet that any wine has ever had since the Romans started making wine here back in the 6th century BC. They were making excuses for it, as they poured it and unfortunately Jackson and I started to giggle. I wanted to say that instead of a wine spit bucket, they might have a puke bucket ready. We wondered whether dog sh*t was part of the fermenting process on this one. It was unbelievable! I can't imagine them selling this vintage to any of the French here! The smell alone was orribla!! I don't really know what it tasted like...I spent that time trying not to laugh out loud. I took a picture of their lineup...watch out for the one in the middle.

That night we went back to Toulouse and had an awesome French meal at La Madeleine de Proust, where Jackson and I had their Entrecôte sauce foie gras. It was a excellent steak by French standards and foie gras sauce was awesome...damn, it was good.

Then on Sunday we walked to the Toulouse market to purchase St. Jacques, the patron saint of scallops and then made our way to the De Danu Irish Bar for lunch. That night we enjoyed listening to the live radio feed (NFL.com's Field Pass) of the Vikings second victory of the year. Randi made St. Jacques over rice and we just hung out and talked...and blogged. It was really great to be with them for two weekends like that. Some great memories.

The Noble Prune

As we turns out, we live in the heart of French prune country, which stretches between Villeneuve-sur-Lot and Agen. Who wouldda thought...who wouldda cared?...now I do. Let me start with a little of the history of pruneaux.

It started when the Pilgrims and crusaders brought plums from Damascus back to France in the 13th century and planted them around Montauban, near Toulouse. The monks collected the fruit that fell on the ground and became dried out. Months later they found out they were still edible. A local variety of plum was then crossed with the Damascus plums and the result was the Ente or Agen plum. By the 1700s the prunes were being shipped to oceangoing vessels at Bordeaux, where for a while they were known as pruneaux de Bordeaux but now they are known as pruneaux d'Agen where they are from.

Here in France, we've found that these prunes are held in the same high regard as their foie gras and Armagnac...maybe not the wine. They are sought by connoisseurs around the world and they even have their own museum...I'd like to go there on kind of a 'Prune Pilgrimage'. Maybe it would be like Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry and would have an exhibit where you could walk inside a giant prune??

Their status is a far cry from that of American prunes, which are so mired in a stodgy, good-for-you, image that California producers have started marketing them as dried plums instead.

The difference between French and California prunes is quite simply 'respect'. No one laughs at the French prune. This would be crazy...possibly even breaking some type of law here?? The American prune is looked at as an old man's treat...a guy who all he has left in life is a dried up prune...it's depressing really.

But the French Agen prune is part of the party scene here. You can find it in all kinds of recipes, with people of all ages eating them. Currently they are part of my favorite desert called "coupe gercoise". I'm told it's Agen prunes, infused with red wine, Armagnac and sugar, on top of vanilla ice cream. I hope to serve this on the Kelley patio someday.

whole lotta cheese

My favorite 'French home away from French home' right now is to go grocery shopping at Carrefour near my office in Labarge. It really is just like going to a Target Greatland back home in Minneapolis. They have everything for sale there...and at better prices than the other grocery stores around us.

One noticeable difference is that they have a lot of cheese for sale...but no cheddar ironically, as I found out with my brother-in-law Dan. However, they have 3 full aisles of cheese...and it's cheap from what we are use to paying. I have become an overnight huge fan of Roquefort cheese. I now typically have my refrigerator stocked with a 'primary' and a 'backup' Roquefort...ya never know when you're gonna need it.

PS. I know I'm not using the word 'ironic' correctly. It's just something I like to throw into conversation a lot...ironically.