Périgueux, France

Capital of the Dordogne region, Périgueux is a bustling city with a young vibe. There’s a ton to do, to see and to experience and I spent 4 days here to take most of it in. The Gallo-Roman remains are extraordinary, within the city centre. A park was built around some of them, so you can walk through archways and get up close and personal with the vestiges. The Vesunna Gallo-Roman Museum is quite a treat, with the building created on top of and around the actual remnants from the 1st-4th century. The Trompe d’Oeil Museum is also a delight, featuring artists creating the “trick of the eye” paintings that amaze. This region is chock full of really interesting history, so make sure to explore the surrounding areas too.

Photo: Remains of the amphitheatre

Carsac, France

I drove by this small town on the bus on my way to Sarlat. There was just something charming about it in that it looked pretty non-descript. Nothing extraordinary and no tourist traps. I spent a day near the end of my Sarlat time and was pleasantly surprised. There was one church that was open to visitors, but I saw not a soul. The graveyard was pretty and the roads winding and never-ending. I just walked and walked and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. What I loved the most were the houses built almost right up against the cliffs, like it was no big deal. A really charming town with absolutely no interest in being charming.

Photo: A house built beside the cliff and a remnant of a building on the cliff

Sarlat, France

Sarlat is a pretty city, with very well maintained buildings and lovely facades. Unfortunately, it's a bit touristy for my taste. Lots of tourist shops, lots of people, you get the picture. It's too bad, as the city itself has a lot of history. My tip is to look on the map: it’s split pretty evenly into a north half and a south half, with a main street down the middle where the big market is held. The south half is filled with the tourist sites, so you’ll spend a lot of time there, but the northern half is almost all residential. It’s a great way to peak into the lifestyles of this part of the region and get away from the crowds. The outskirts of the city are also lovely. They have a whole other feel to them and are necessary to having a true sense of the area.

Photo: A picturesque street in Sarlat

Saint Cirq Lapopie, France

This was one of my favourite villages in France. I spent the day here in heaven, literally hanging around and wandering. It’s so small that it probably would take half an hour to walk through every street and path, but it’s worth it to just take your time and enjoy the atmosphere. It’s got an artsy feel to it, as most of the residents are artists or trades people, living off of selling their wares from small storefronts or their homes. It’s perched up on a very high hill, so the views over the Lot river and countryside below are breathtaking. It can either be taken as a side trip from Cahors, or a quiet retreat in one of the few hotels that are actually there. Ah, just remembering the languishing day makes me smile…

Photo: Saint Cirq Lapopie

Cahors, France

Cahors is the principle town in the Lot Department that I found quite un-touristy. Although I arrived during a major construction project downtown, I still enjoyed wandering through the streets without feeling too much like a “tourist.” There wasn’t really a star attraction, other than the lovely churches and buildings, which made the town unspectacular. But in a good way. It was a nice break from rushing to all of the monuments found in places like Paris or Toulouse, and easy to just relax into the atmosphere and people of Cahors. The weekend market was huge and I caught it on my last day there. This is a nice and tranquil stop along the sightseeing frenzy that France can become.

Photo: The magificent Pont Valentré

Lautrec, France

I fell in love with this bastide instantly. The architecture was gorgeous, the people charming and the streets quaint. It’s classified as “one of the most beautiful villages in France” and it lives up to its reputation. Just down the hill from the centre is the most amazing little bed and breakfast. You do need a car to get from here back up to Lautrec centre, but it’s well worth it. The woman who owns and runs the place, a converted house, is precious. She makes all of the meals and adds such magic to the house. The rooms are all decorated in matching colours and themes and there’s a huge dining area and library. Outside is surrounded by yellow fields, an old chapel and an old pigeon’s house. The name of the B&B is “Chambres d’Hotes de Cadalen.” To be honest, I’m not sure if the woman speaks English or not but it’s worth looking up if you want to stay in this lovely area. She serves the most amazing lavender juice that I can’t seem to find anywhere and she might even give you some pink garlic that the area is famous for!
Above Photo: Architecture in Lautrec


Photo: One of the salons at the "Chambres d'hotes de Cadalen"

Castres, France

This lovely small city was pleasant and charming. The city centre is cut in two by the Agout River and the old tanner and weaver’s houses line up along it. The big ticket attraction here is the Musée Goya, the largest collection of Spanish paintings other than the Louvre. It’s fairly large and contains an extensive and remarkable variety of pieces.

Photo: Castres city centre along the Agout River

Castelnau de Montmiral, France

Another small village in the same area (near Albi). This one was mostly closed down when I went, not many people out and about and the weather pretty dismal. It’s too bad, as the commune had beautiful architecture and a real village-y feel. I don’t have much more to say about it other than it looked like it would be a lovely place with a touch of sunshine and people bustling about.

Photo: Main square of Castelnau de Montmiral

Puycelsi, France

This is classified as “one of the most beautiful villages of France.” Created around the year 1000 by monks, it overlooks the Vère Valley and has retained some of its medieval streets. They snake around and lead you to beautiful houses and buildings. A charming small village.

Photo: A house in Puycelsi

Château de Mauriac, France

Located in tiny Senouillac, the Château has been lovingly restored for more than 45 years. The place is huge and each room is decorated in a theme: the baroque room, the oriental room, etc. Gorgeous detailing and exquisite furnishings (see photo). It feels like a big castle out in the middle of nowhere to wander around in and get lost. They also rent it out for functions, holding up to 500 people. How divine would that be?

Photo: The Baroque Room

Cordes-sur-Ciel, France

This tiny commune is a lovely flash back to days gone by. Built in 1222, it’s now famous for its outdoor market. Tourists love spending the day here, although because of the rainy day that I went on, there was hardly a soul in the streets. There’s nothing better than walking the ancient streets alone (well, with my guide), as if transformed back to the 13th century. Lots of gothic architecture survives from the 13th and 14th centuries and the storefronts are so quaint. As Albert Camus said: “In Cordes, everything is beautiful, even regret”.

Photo: Quaint shopfront in Cordes-sur-Ciel

Gaillac, France

This small commune in the Tarn Department is a short drive west of Albi. I didn’t stay long but fell in love with the wine. I was at Labastide de Levis, the largest producer in the area, and had a tour of the facilities. It was neat to see how wine is made, the machines and the charming staff, as well as taste some superb varieties. The gentleman who took me around decided that I needed to take a couple of bottles home as a gift (I was on a writing assignment, so free stuff is the norm!). I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to transport it on the flight back home so I decided to accept only one. I went with an award winning red, the 2004 Rouge, which received the Médaille d’Or in 2006. When I got home and opened the bottle with a girlfriend, I was instantly "amoureuse". The best bottle I had ever had in my life. Of course, I can’t find any wine from Gaillac in Vancouver, so I know I’ll have to go back. Hey, it’s as good an excuse as any!

Photo: Labastide de Levis

Albi, France

So far, this is my favourite area in France (the next posts will be of the surrounding villages). Albi is in the Tarn region in the southwest. I was immediately struck by the warm red colours of the buildings and the charming accent of the locals (some still speak the ancient Occitane, street signs are in Occitane and French, and their south western accents are beautiful). The Sainte Cécile Cathedral is absolutely stunning, as is the architecture. The Toulouse Lautrec Museum was one of my favourites and is a much loved stopping point for Japanese tourists (for some reason, he’s very popular in Japan). There’s no nightlife to speak of here, but the small winding streets and still nights are enchanting enough.

Photo: The old house of Albi

Carcassonne, France

A daytrip from Toulouse, Carcassonne is a bit of a tourist trap, and yet, it was so fun getting trapped. Yes, the streets are lined with kitschy souvenirs and families walk around with plastic swords and knight’s gear, but it’s worth the trip. The enclosed village of Carcassonne houses medieval streets classified by UNESCO. The castle is amazing and a tour leads you through the halls and rooms. Everything is themed to knights and jousting, and the festivals there are supposedly fantastic. I’d love to go back in the summer to experience the jousting competitions, the castle lit up in red at night, the bull festival and the crazy men who joust on boats in the water. I only spent a day here but walking within the pristinely preserved medieval walls was well worth it.

Read my article on the city here.

Photo: The Viscount's Castle at night, July 15th

Toulouse, France

My first impression of Toulouse was experienced through frustration and lack of sleep. I had taken the overnight train from Paris and, unlike any other trains I’ve taken in France, this ride was horrible. I couldn’t sleep because I had to go to the washroom, but most were out of order and the others were in such a gross state, I couldn’t bring myself to actually use them. The ride lasted over 7 hours of excruciating hell. I arrived in Toulouse in the very early morning while it was still waking up. After checking in at the hotel, which of course wasn’t ready for me until the afternoon, I was refreshed with some tea and breakfast in their lounge. The rest of my few days here were much better, visiting the St-Sernin church, Le Pont Neuf, Place de Capitole (where all of the action takes place) and all of the exquisite hôtels particuliers. The city has a young vibe, as it’s filled with university students. The buildings are typical of the area, with wrought iron balconies in all different colours. I highly recommend the Hôtel Mermoz, who kindly hosted me for my stay.

Photo: St-Sernin Church at night

Read my article about the city here.

Stockholm and Uppsala, Sweden

I have a dear friend in Uppsala, Sweden. We met while she was living in Vancouver, Canada, but when she went back home, I knew I would have to make it to Sweden someday. And I did! I arrived in Stockholm from London and was met by my gal friend. Her mom picked us up and off to Uppsala we went. A sushi dinner and a lot of catching up later, we tired ourselves out and fell asleep. The next day was Stockholm and we rode the train downtown and walked around all day. A visit to the National Museum and more wandering, we found the BEST funky nightspot for eating without doing the club thing (except that I forgot the name). A few glasses of wine and delicious food later and we made our way back home. The next day was exploring Uppsala and watching a really passionate but totally bizarre religious show in the middle of the street (we took pictures and everything) and then to a Swedish Easter dinner with her family. Easily part of the top loveliest people on the planet, we talked politics, ate a beautiful meal and took the dog for a walk. I’d like to think all Swedish people are that wonderful.

Photo: Uppsala duck pond

Haworth, England

It was my dream for a long time to visit Haworth, England. It’s the village where the Bronte sisters grew up and wrote their captivating novels, my favourite being “Wuthering Heights.” I went this April and it was everything I imagined: the desolate but beautiful moors, the Bronte memorabilia, and the old parsonage (now the Bronte museum)… it was incredible. I stayed at the Ashmont Guest House, which was once occupied by Charlotte and her father’s physician. The village itself was quaint and lovely and one big hill! If you go, do not get off the bus at the bottom of the hill, the driver will take you to the top (I learned the hard way). The paths walked by the sisters are intact and you can see Penistone Craig, the waterfall, the church where the family is buried and, of course, the magnificent Parsonage museum. It really is worth the trip and needs about 2 solid days, at least, to experience everything. I also got a lot of great tips from my fellow travellers, as they were all on Bronte sister pilgrimages as well.

My travel article on Haworth can be found here.

Photo: The Moors, of course

San Diego

Photo: San Diego's "Champs Elysees"

I spent 4 days in San Diego last week. The palm trees, sunny weather and stunning beaches were definitely the highlights. It was a working trip, though, and I wrote 2 articles: 1 on downtown San Diego and the other on the lovely La Jolla neighbourhood. You can find the links and some photos here:

The Downtown San Diego article

The article on La Jolla

Back Home to Vancouver

That was the end of my second trip to France. I would not return until 5 years later (this April). Each time has changed my life in some significant way and I can’t wait to be back again next spring. What is it about France that makes me swoon so? After I’ve finished moving at the end of August, I’ll recount my latest trip to Europe, which I spent the majority of time in France, but also visited London, Haworth (England, where the Bronte sisters grew up) and Sweden. What fun!

Les Angles, South of France

This little town just outside of Avignon was so cute. Really quiet, sleepy and with no tourists whatsoever. I took a local bus and got off when I thought I had hit the town centre. There was not a soul around. I had a little map that showed me where the “tourist attractions” were, which was a remnant of a tower and chapel, and an old community washing site. None of the sites were marked, so I walked around and around until I guesses which were which. The landscape was gorgeous, wide open and the air so fresh. I ended up staying the whole day, just walking around in solitude and enjoying the heat and leisure. [I hear now the town is changing, as it has a highly active industrial zone. It’s also a popular base for skiing and exploring the surrounding region.- see comments below]

Photo: typical of the houses and yards in Les Angles, France

Orange, the Amphitheatre

Just a bus ride outside of Avignon is the city of Orange. Famed for its remaining amphitheatre, it boasts that it’s the best preserved in the Roman world (how many say that???!!!)? It is quite remarkable, though. The back wall, with statues and pillars still intact, runs 36 metres high. The theatre itself was begun in the 1st century under the reign of August. Today it hosts yearly events, from live theatre to rock concerts, that seat thousands of spectators. Since 1869, each year in July it presents the festival “Les Chorégies,” an event of art and shows that is known worldwide. What an amazing experience that would be. Maybe next time.

Photo: Le Thèâtre Antique d'Orange

Tour Philippe le Bel

Again in Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, lies the magnificent Philippe the beautiful tower. It overlooks the city of Avignon and the Rhone river. When I went it was a perfectly clear, warm and bright day somehow devoid of tourists. I had the whole space to myself and explored the tower without disturbance. The rooms have temporary exhibits of art and the stairs to the top are narrow, steep and, of course, all in stone. Getting to the top is breathtaking. A 360 degree view of the Rhone valley and Avignon is remarkable. I stayed up on the platform for a good half an hour just breathing in the clean air and marvelling at the beautiful country. Ah, la France.

Photo: Le Tour Philippe le Bel in Villeneuve-Lez-Avignon

La Chartreuse/Monastery

Still in the small commune of Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, the monastery, or La Chartreuse, was a fascinating visit. The inner gardens were gorgeous, as was the courtyard with a water reserve. This was used when the monks didn’t leave the monastery and lived in the building totally self-sufficiently. The “prison” rooms, where bad monks went, were open to view, which was neat. These little stone rooms with tiny windows had missing stones where the prisoners could listen to the sermons through.

Photo: Inner courtyard water reserve

Saint-André Fort and the Abbey

Photo: The private residence of the owners of the abbey

Just outside of Avignon lies the commune of Villeneuve-lez-Avignon. I went to discover the fort and abbey there, which was a delightful day trip. The fort was built at the end of the 13th century and controlled the boats on the Rhone and also defended the kingdom. Walking around the remaining rampart walls and finding hidden spots filled with flowers and untended grass felt like searching through my own private discovery. A concealed garden within the abbey, which is a private residence whose owner lets visitors walk through, was the highlight of the trip. The ponds and flowers were impeccable and lovely. I wanted to stay there and watch the sun go down but every once in awhile I’d notice a figure passing a window in the gorgeous manor and remember that this was someone’s home. Then I daydreamed about what it would be like to live there…

Photo: One of the ponds in the abbey

Place de l’Horloge

This is the centre of the centre of the city. This “place” is surrounded by restaurants that seemed to always be filled. There’s a merry-go-round for the kids, and lots of open space to wander and hang out. Also within the square are the Town Hall and the Municipal Theatre. This is where I saw part of the film festival, where actors and the filmmakers were in attendance and shot the shit afterwards. What fun! I did struggle through the films, though, as they didn’t have subtitles, of course. But it was so well worth it!

Photo: Place de l'Horloge

Rocher des Domes

This beautiful spot had fountains, a restaurant and lots of park benches to read and write. The air somehow seemed cleaner and clearer and people walked around in complete relaxation and happiness. There was always children’s laughter as they saw the water spraying from the pond. The views over the city and the Rhone River were spectacular. A large terrace with lots of space overlooked Pont d’Avignon and the Ile de la Barthelasse. Ah, just thinking of the little park makes me smile.

Photo: Rocher des Domes

Pope's Palace, Avignon

Photo: The intimidating Pope's Palace

Le Palais des Papes, constructed in 1335 and finished 20 years later, is a must-see for its imposing presence and rich history. Dubbed the “Rome away from Rome,” Pope Clement V moved his court here until the Revolution. This is probably the biggest (literally) tourist attraction in the city, yet it still doesn’t feel overdone. Today it stands as the largest gothic palace in the world. The location is also great, as it overlooks one of the main squares of the city, so you can gaze at it while eating lunch or grabbing a glass of wine. The open area outside is where kids often play games together (although, after watching them, I still couldn’t figure out how to play)...

Le Pont d’Avignon

Aka. Le Pont St-Bénézet. If you’ve ever heard the children’s nursery rhyme about the “Pont d’Avignon,” the bridge in the photo is what they’re talking about. It looks a bit different now, as it stops mid-river from the destruction of the many wars waged in the area. It now stands with only 4 arches and a small chapel called “St-Nicolas Chapel.” The story of the young shepherd body, St-Bénézet, is legendary. In 1177, he announced that he had been commanded by angels to build a bridge across the Rhône in just that spot. The archbishop laughed along with the rest of the townspeople. Small Bénézet had to prove himself by hoisting a gigantic boulder over his head and tossing it into the river as the start of construction. The funnest part, though, is getting the audioguide and listening to the French children sing the rhyme…

Photo: Le Pont St-Bénézet or Le Pont d'Avignon

The City of Avignon

I was captivated with Avignon as soon as I arrived. The walled city has 4 kms of ramparts surrounding the downtown area, including 39 towers and 9 entryways. I stayed at the Hotel Innova for my entire visit, a central accommodation with a great owner. He would sit with me every morning and we’d chat about politics, weather and whatever else came up. It was the best way to practice my French and gain confidence. The first night I was in a room on street level facing a club. Trendy though it was, the partying went late into the morning and I was so tired from the long journey that as soon as I woke up I requested a new room. I ended up seeing a double room with a shower and paid a bit more to secure that one. Definitely well worth it. I met the owner, M. Calan, that first morning, which was a great start to my trip.

Photo: M. Calan of Hotel Innova

Flight to Paris, Train to Avignon

Photo: The ramparts that surround the downtown of Avignon

I was so excited the whole way to Paris, waiting impatiently to see the city again. Once I arrived, I knew I only had a couple of hours before I had to be on the train down south to Provence. When I got out of the airport in Paris, I realized that the whole transit system was on strike! I ended up catching an alternate train into the city but got stuck at some suburb station with so many others who were totally lost. Although I was speaking French fluently, the announcements on the loudspeakers were so fast and distorted that I had no idea what was happening. I ended up hanging out with a German family to bide the time until the train to Paris came over an hour later. I got to the city exhausted and irritable. I walked around for an hour until I had to board another train to Avignon. Another 5 hours of travelling, yippee. But the ride was amazing, as the route went through the countryside. By the time I arrived down south it was 11:00pm. Everyone around me suddenly disappeared and I was alone walking down the road in the direction I thought was right. You can read my funny tale that was published in the Vancouver Sun.

Learning French

After I returned home from Paris, I looked into French schools right away. My desire to learn the language and return was utmost in my mind. I began a few months later at L’Alliance Française de Vancouver, getting into an intermediate class. I spent the next year in and out of a few classes and felt fairly comfortable speaking and understanding French. By the next January, I was hungrily planning my next trip. I wanted to go down south, probably to Provence, and scoured through travel books to find the right location. I finally chose Avignon, an important city located right in Provence. It looked like the perfect place to practice my French, soak up the sun and see what the south of France was like.

Photo: The main entrance to Avignon, France

The Flight from Paris

I did a lot of crying, I felt a lot of pain. I had fallen in love with Paris more than I ever thought possible. My time there was frustrating, as I didn’t know the language very well, yet so intoxicating. I loved the sleek women dressed in such well put together fashions; I hated the men who followed me around like a stench; I loved the tiny, cobbled streets just off of the big thoroughfares; I hated seeing the women and children begging in the metro tunnels. Above all, I loved how I felt in Paris, hearing French, immersed in French culture. It felt right. It agreed so well with me. This trip would spur my next year’s studies and thoughts as I dreamt of returning to France. In exactly one year, I did, taking myself down to Provence to fall in love all over again. “I’ve gained as many layers as I’ve taken off, learned as many lessons as I’ve thrown away.”

Photo: The Square Louis XVI at the Place de Vosges in the Marais

The Louis Vuitton Incident

The rue Montaigne is filled with rich designer stores and elegant residents. I walked down the streets imagining walking through the tall doors and into the intimidating shops. As I got back onto the Champs Elysée, my chance arrived. A couple had been watching me walk by and approached me shyly. In terrible French, they began trying to tell me something and asked if I spoke English. They had bought a Louis Vuitton wallet already and wanted another one. But because they didn’t want to declare it, they were looking for someone to buy one for them. Looking at my perplexed face, they brought out 500 euros cash and told me that I’d be doing them a huge favour. Images of gangsters in black suits and government officials clouded my mind- what was I getting into? And then I thought about walking into Louis Vuitton with 500 euros to spend. There was no way I could refuse. So off I went, walking like I owned the Paris sidewalk, and into the huge doorway of the store. A man in a suit and hat greeted me politely at the door and a woman came immediately to tell me that someone would be with me in a moment. I was then escorted through the store and was asked if there was anything in particular I wanted. I told them a wallet and pictured the one the couple had showed me. A woman behind the counter brought out the one I was supposed to buy and I said it was perfect. I was then ushered to a little waiting area near a different counter as the staff packaged and prepared the wallet. At the cash register, I was asked for my passport, which I didn’t have with me, and realized that I might have to declare this expensive purchase! Instead, I pulled out my sparkly pink leopard print wallet with 500 euros sticking out. Total class. I left with an adieu from the man at the door and stepped out onto the rue Montaigne as if I belonged. The couple were nervously looking at their watches across the street, probably sure I had slipped out the back door, and I walked over and gave them the wallet. I kept the change for a job well done. Someone had to do it…

Le Palais Garnier

Probably my favourite place in Paris has to be the opulent Palais Garnier (Paris Opera). The interior and exterior beauty is a marvel. On this trip I was only able to see it during the daytime, but I will surely go back to see a show there. “I spent the morning in the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. I was absolutely transfixed, amazed and inspired wholly by it. Such elegance. Such style.” I remember just wandering in a happy daze and seeing the lush red velvety seats, the library with photos of the ballerinas who have danced there, the refined stairways and classy chandeliers. It was heaven for me.

Photo: Inside the Palais Garnier

Falling in Love in Paris

Well, I didn’t fall anywhere near love, but I was able to fulfill my fantasy of meeting a young and handsome man in Paris. His name was Karim and he was Moroccan: lovely dark skin, jet black features, a soft melodious voice and kind eyes. I was sitting at a park writing when he shyly approached me. By this time I was used to getting approached every few minutes, it seemed, by some man trying to pick up a young foreign woman. Somehow he was different and very charming. We spoke in both French and English, laughing when we couldn’t understand each other and smiling when we could. We ended up walking through the tiny cobbled streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, visited galleries, watched street performers, and held hands the whole way. We kissed on the Seine and walked like lovers under the Pont Neuf Bridge. And then I got bored, writing later, “I wish I could have enjoyed him for longer.” Off I went with the faint hope that I’d want to see him again, as he would wait for me at the same spot the next day at 4:00pm, but Paris swooped me up again and I didn’t want to share my time, even with a handsome young man.

Jim Morrison’s Grave and Apartment

Yes, a stop along my Paris way was to Jim Morrison’s grave in the Père Lachaise cemetery. I was a HUGE fan in high school (yesterday, while getting ready to pack, I found yet more artwork that I did with his name and photos- silly girl stuff). Actually, as soon as I decided to go to Paris, his grave was one of the first things on my list. The headstone was gone at this time, but it was still a must to go see it. The experience was pretty lame, although I did get the grave to myself. I wrote in my journal, “It wasn’t really all that great, just an empty feeling of taking pictures of something that was so exhausted from being looked at.” I also had jotted down the apartment that he allegedly died in (where he was found in the bathtub). I couldn’t get in, so I took some pictures of the outside and, well, that was all I could do. My Jim Morrison pilgrimage was finished.

Photo: Jim Morrison's grave in the Père Lachaise cemetery

A Cheap Hotel in Paris

An oxymoron, you say? Well, I did find one on this trip, the perfect little hotel for just me. The Hôtel de Rouen, located on the rue Croix des Petits Champs in the 1st district (the heart of downtown), offered me the “maid’s chamber” on the top floor for 25 euros a night. It was the only room on the floor and had a shower and the toilet just outside the door. I had my own little TV and a floor to call my own. Not all was perfect in paradise, though, as the place was a zero star establishment, not the cleanest, and definitely not somewhere you’d want to stay too long. I made it 8 nights. Even now, the hotel rents their single rooms out for 38 euros; not too shabby for a place to rest your head in Paris.

Photo: Hôtel de Rouen, where I had a floor to call my own

Jardin de la Villette

I happened upon the Villette garden in the 19th district to my great surprise. Not just another park, this wonder was 3 kilmetres of paths with 10 themed gardens. It was a wonderland, as I put it in my journal. “It’s a circular space outside, walls all around except for the open sky. There’s water falling down the sides of the stairs as you walk down, and there’s these really strange sounds coming from who knows where. I don’t know if the wind is catching them, somewhere, to make the noises, or if they’re from another part of the park. There’s 10 themed gardens in this park… Photo: The big dragon slide with smaller slides coming down from the sides. The lineup was looooong.

"This place is amazing. What I was in before was the bamboo garden, which is what was probably making those lovely sounds. I’m now sitting in the garden of mirrors, where children can play (each garden has an age limit, I guess depending on the danger level) and big mirrors are put up for them to hide behind. Next I’m onto the garden of dunes, where it’s all hilly and on some of the down slopes there’s little activities: ropes, a big chair, nets, tunnels. It’s incredible… There’s caterpillars designed similar to the dragon (see photo) for the kids to climb up and down on.” How I longed to be a kid!

Paris for Beginners

The most amazing thing that Paris did for me on this trip was to open up my world. I had grown up just outside of Vancouver, Canada, and have spent my whole life here. Although I did a lot of travelling all over the world when I was younger, other culture and countries just didn’t hit me with the same poignancy as travelling alone. Not only did I fall in love with the city, I fell in love with the life of a wanderer. I walked through the streets all day, sat in cafés, read on park benches, wrote along the Seine and took pictures hoping to catch the images in my memory forever. It was the first time that I got out of my young brain and OUT into the big world. Paris just happened to be the city I chose and the city that agreed with me the most. After so many years, it’s still one of my favourite places on earth, but back to my earlier experience…

Photo: The Pont de Bir Hakeim, where Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider met in Last Tango in Paris.

Louveciennes and Anaïs Nin

I was an Anaïs Nin fan after reading her many volumes of diaries. It was imperative, then, that when I visited Paris, I had to see her former house, the place she described in her writing as both a prison and a refuge. The small village was easy enough to get to but I thought I would never find her house. There were no signs, as this was certainly not a tourist attraction, but I eventually found my way. What I found was the house she had written about with longing that had a sole plaque on the wall in her honour. I tried to peak around the walls and saw some movement in the backyard before walking away. It was an uneventful trip but somehow worth it, as I got to see the house she spent a few years living in. There were rumours of it being bought by a developer and split into 3 lots for new real estate. I have no idea what ever happened with that, but I’m glad I saw the house when I did.

Photo: Plaque on the outside wall of Anaïs Nin's old house

Sightseeing in Paris

For the first week, I did all of the “tourist” things, meaning exploring the famous sites and buildings. I spent a day at the Louvre, walked along the Champs Elysée to the Arc de Triomphe, went to the Château de Vincennes, the Picasso Museum (probably my favourite overall), the Conciergerie, Notre Dame, Sacré Coeur, etc. It was a magnificent and quick tour of the city and had to be done. I kept seeing smaller and less crowded places that I saved for later and picked my favourite neighbourhoods (Le Marais) and haunts. What I couldn’t get over the most was that I had seen Paris through the eyes of filmmakers, photographers, travel shows and writers for so many months, but I was HERE, really HERE, seeing it in person. It made everything all the more romantic and visceral, somehow. After one week, I was so hooked on Paris I never wanted to leave.


Photo: The Arc de Triomphe from the Champs Elysée

The First Day

Again, the view from my hotel window down to the rue Saint-Antoine. These are the peaceful but angry protesters againsts M. Le Pen. Police cares lined both sides of the street.

After settling into the hotel, I still had the whole afternoon and evening free. What had made me the most curious on my way from the station was the people crowded on the sidewalks: this certainly couldn’t be a usual occurrence? There were gendarmeries at all corners around Place de Bastille and along rue Saint-Antoine, with clear shields and serious faces, their cars parked along both sides of the street. What was going on? This was the moment I learned about the importance of protests in French culture. Citizens were protesting a candidate in the upcoming election, Jean-Marie Le Pen, with signs charging him with racism and discrimination. They had taken to the streets and were marching with signs down rue Saint-Antoine and up to the Place de Bastille. I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out why they were protesting and trying to get my bearings in the Marais district, as the city as a whole seemed too intimidating. Dinner was a panini at one of the street-side shops where the young men always seemed to be smiling and flirting with the passing women. I was asked to go for a drink at one of the bars at the Place de Bastille that night but decided to pass: my body was starting to feel incredibly heavy as the long flight and no sleep began to catch up with me. It was an early night to bed on my first day in Paris.

My First Step in Paris

The view of rue Saint-Antoine from my hotel room, L'Hotel de la Herse d'Or. This is the 1st day of May, La Fête du Travail, when there are many street protests and people selling lilies of the valley.

How does one describe their first step into a city that has an incredibly distinguished history? I had built up this dreamy place with romantic notions of berets, baguettes, fashion, kissing and beauty at every turn. It did not disappoint me. My initial step out of the Gare de Lyon produced tiny tears in my eyes. I had finally arrived and a wave of awe rolled through me. Having studied a map while on the plane, I simply strode out of the station and into the chaos, along the streets I had seen so many times in photos and films, and made my way to the hotel without a glitch. I had arrived in what would become my little slice of Paris for the next month. L’Hotel de la Herse d’Or, located in the Marais (4th district) was the base where I would begin and end each glorious day.

The Beginning: Dreaming of Paris

Le Château de Longchamps at Bois de Vincennes, Paris (who would have thought this would exist in Paris?!)

My fascination with France came to me sporadically in the summer of 2001. I had just finished my theatre acting program and was working at Tony Roma’s as a hostess. I was living down by the beach in the west end of Vancouver and, while marvelling at the beauty of this city, began daydreaming of all the other beautiful places in the world. I had been to many cities in the States, throughout Canada, even to China and Korea, but never to Europe. Like a flash of lightening Paris sparkled in my mind and I knew I was hooked. I had no more than my high school French (which I almost failed in grade 12) and didn’t know any more about the city than it hosted the Eiffel Tower, nothing more to differentiate it from any other major European city. But Paris I had chosen and Paris it would be. I saved up for the next few months and booked a flight to spend the next April in Paris. It was a trip that would change my life.