by Maureen | Jan 2, 2010 | Christmas & New Year's Eve, Discoveries, Introspection, Journal, People, Photos
From my journal entry, New Year’s Day 2010:
I took off walking toward the Duomo at 4:10 today. It’s New Year’s Day. I needed to get out of the house and get my body moving. I decided to zig zag through the “neighborhood” on streets I’ve never seen before, rather than take the sure, known route.
Along the way, an old woman approached me while walking her dog. She had seen me from a distance blowing my nose in my hankie. She rattled something off fast. “Non capisco,” I said finally. “What do you mean you don’t understand!?”, she said in Italian. We ended up comparing handkerchiefs. (Hers had embroidered flowers on white linen. Mine was deep magenta with big, off-white polka dots) I said I had handkerchiefs from my “nonna”.
She stood there in her patterned, fleece pants, just-this-side-of-pajamas and commented on the large size of my coat buttons. “Yes. They’re as big as plates!”, I said. “We could eat off them!” We both laughed, then wished each other a happy New Year and walked on.
It was late afternoon, getting on toward evening. The light was dimming and I was walking where I never had before. But I knew my general direction, took the lesser roads and kept moving. The streets were vacant. Hardly a car. Not a pedestrian. But as I neared the area of the Duomo, a few more people appeared, a few more restaurants and cafés were open (no shops!) and the energy picked up.
This house was in a cozy, little area of narrow streets, just north-east of me. What’s its history?!
I came to another street corner and stopped in my tracks at the sight of the Church of Santa Maria and San Satiro on a site originally established in 879 a.d. Where did that come from!? Just one block off the main drag through town! I had never seen it before.
When I walked in, New Year’s Day evening, a small group of people was being led aloud in saying the rosary. I chimed in in English while I was there.
Heading for Monte Napoleone to see the window displays, I went north and to the east. The shops along that exclusive, narrow street are outside of my reach or comprehension. Actually shopping there is not a thought. My real goal was getting exercise and being out of the house, so I simply strolled and looked and shot a few photos until I got hungry.
by Maureen | Dec 28, 2009 | Christmas & New Year's Eve, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Incredible Locations, Journal, Paris, People, Photos
By day’s end, my feet were screaming. The “slow museum shuffle” is exhausting, more so than walking briskly for 5 miles. I had to get back to my room, unload the few things I carried and take a break.
The subway system, with two transfers, consumed 45 minutes, then I arrived at the Maubert-Mutualité stop. I started up the hill to the Hotel Moderne Saint Germain and paused outside the Magic Shop. I’ve been passing by every day this week, and this time, wondered if there might be something magical to take home with me. I went in.
I laughed and asked the man if he speaks English. “Yes”. (Quite well, really!) I told him that I wondered if there might be something special for me to take home.
“Yes. Of course. Let me show you this trick.” He showed me “magic” with 8 playing cards and I was bowled over. 13 Euros. I had to have it. A simple set that would make a great party amusement (once I learn it).
Then he took two inch-and-a-half, soft, foam balls. He gave one to me and had me squeeze it tight in my fist. The other one he held tight in his own palm. “One, two, three”. He opened his hand, and showed me the other as well. No ball in either. I was reluctant to open my hand and said I’d have to fall on the floor if there were two balls in my palm. …There were, of course! (But I didn’t fall down.) I couldn’t believe it. Of course I had been very attentive to everything while he did the trick, but apparently not to the right things. How did that second red ball end up in my hand?!
One last trick: a Chinese coin and an American 50 cent piece. I picked one, the 50 cents. He handed me the Chinese coin and it went into my hand which clenched tightly around it, fingers down. The 50 cent piece was set onto the back of the same hand that was holding the Chinese coin. He took a playing card, covered the 50 cent piece with it and tapped the card. When he removed the card, the CHINESE coin was sitting on top of my hand and the 50 cent piece was tight in my fist. How the coins traded place, I have no idea.
So I ended my time in Paris with a short magical evening. Even if I never learn the trick I bought, the 13 Euros bought me laughs, entertainment, amazement and conversation.
The shop, Mayette Magie Moderne, is (allegedgly) the oldest magic shop in the world at 201 years. My magician for the evening was Quoc Tien Tran, who was born and raised in Paris and has been “doing magic” since age 6 or 7. (His mom told him it’s a “gift from God”.)
As I was getting ready to leave the shop, a mother and her very young son came in. Quoc Tien stepped right up to do a disappearing ball trick for the little boy (who will probably grow up to be a magician because of that ball.)
THREE BASIC RULES OF MAGIC (As they were explained to me):
1 Never explain the trick.
2 Don’t perform the trick twice in the same instance or for the same person.
3 Perform it only when YOU’RE ready to perform it, and you know it very well.
What an enchanting and amusing way to end my time in Paris!
Mayette Magie Moderne
8 Rue des Carmes
75005 Paris
TEL: 01 43 54 13 63
WEB: www.mayette.com
Metro: Maubert-Mutualité
by Maureen | Dec 26, 2009 | Christmas & New Year's Eve, Featured Articles, Journal, Paris
It seemed to me that the ultimate Parisian, Catholic experience would be attending Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. (And it seemed the thought occurred to thousands of others, too.) It was raining last night at 8:00 as I walked from my hotel, across the bridge and toward the cathedral. What a sight with the church illuminated in the blustery, late evening!
I walked around to the plaza in front of Notre Dame, and it was incredibly beautiful with the lights and the Christmas tree. (No. I didn’t retouch or recolor the image to make the tree look blue.)
When I arrived just after 8:00, there was another mass going on, so I walked around and looked at the side chapels. Toward the end of that mass, I and countless others, positioned ourselves, ready. Within little more than 5 minutes after the end of mass ALL of the chairs (no pews) were full of those that had been waiting. A short time later, an image/light show, “Lumen de Lumine”, was projected on a taut panel of fabric, suspended above the altar. It was a narrated (in French) picture story of the birth of Christ.
The light show was followed by Christmas songs sung beautifully in both French and English. When they sang “Silent Night” in French and invited the participation of the congregation, I sang aloud in English. I imagine others did, too.
There were 6 little choir kids without blue robes, like this little girl. She was SO little and so young, yet so very intent on her singing.
I don’t know how many people fit in that cathedral, but it was standing-room-only, even out into the small side chapels.
Notre Dame has a grand organ and it accompanied the choir and priests.
There were about 20 priests present to assist with communion, though they did not concelebrate. The mass was in French, with a few responsorials in Latin. It might as well have been a Latin high mass, though. A foreign language in a cathedral like that… it had the SENSE of a high mass.
I was seated just 3 rows back from the front, so the frankincense was thick and fragrant. I like it.
I had arrived just after 8:00 in the evening, and was leaving at 1:30 in the morning. What a memorable life experience: Midnight Mass at Notre Dame. The rain had stopped, and as I walked home to my hotel room, I could hear the church bells pealing loudly all the way.
by Maureen | Dec 25, 2009 | Cheese, Christmas & New Year's Eve, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Food!, Journal, Meals, Paris, Shopping & Markets
What was for dinner on Christmas Eve in Paris? Fast food, Parisian-style!
From my journal yesterday:
5:30 P.M. Christmas Eve, Paris.
I’m eating in my hotel room, after spending all afternoon at Musée D’Orsay absorbing the impressionists and Art Nouveau and before heading to Notre Dame for Midnight Mass. At the Maubert-Mutualité exit for the metro, there’s a charcuterie, fromagerie, boulangerie and wine shop that I stopped at to buy dinner. The ultimate “fast food”! On tonight’s menu, (eaten in my room with Christmas music on “shuffle” on iTunes on my laptop):
– Escargots in puff pastry with garlic herb butter. 3 pieces for 3,00 €
– Foie gras roll with pistachios. 1 slice for 3,40 €
– A sort of Chevre cheese, donut-shaped and very moldy. 6,80 €
– Flan de Legumes (with broccoli). 3,80 €
– Puff pastry rounds, (eggy and moist). 4 small pieces 1,30 €
– Bordeaux. (1/2 bottle remaining from before). 4,50 €
TOTAL COST OF CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER 22,80 €
(With today’s exchange rate, that’s about $33.00, but I figured that was fine for my Christmas dinner.)
…and it was delicious.
by Maureen | Dec 24, 2009 | Christmas & New Year's Eve, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Journal, Paris, People, Photos
Group tours aren’t generally “my thing” but I found out in Washington D.C. a few years back that hitching a ride on a tour bus is like a crash course in the new city. (Not literally, of course!)
So I decided to take the “3-hour cruise” of Paris with a tour group: drive around to see the main sights, then finish with a sunset boat ride on the Seine, seeing the Louvre, D’Orsay, Eiffel Tower and others from the water, shoreward.
My driver picked me up at the hotel at 1:15, a bit earlier than scheduled, then we drove across town in his touring van (no big, long bus) to pick up other passengers… Along the way, Eni (Eniel) gave me running commentary. We arrived at the other hotel and I waited in the van. Eni came back and told me I was having a personal tour. The others had cancelled.
Born in Cuba, and moved to Paris in 2004, Eni speaks half a dozen languages or more. We used English, Spanish and Italian, and I couldn’t have asked for a more pleasant afternoon in Paris. For three hours he whipped that van around the city as only a local could. (Oh, the traffic he wended through!) We talked about the city, but also about personal aspects of living here, of having moved across the globe, of world politics, of culture, of our lives. How could I have planned all that?! He loves history, so he’s absorbed details that made the time more than just a driving tour. And he pointed out things on back street corners that no visitor would hear about.
I was always “Lady”. (Maybe that’s what he calls all the female passengers.) “Lady! At that restaurant they charge you 10 euro for a cup of coffee!” He recommended a restaurant for Christmas dinner (Le Veux Paris) and told me where the cheaper shopping is located. In 3 hours, we just about covered all the arrondisements of Paris and their highlights, and it wasn’t from a slow-moving bus.
At the end of our drive, he dropped me off at the boat launch at the base of the Eiffel Tower. We shook hands and he saw me off.
I told Eni that I have friends scheduled to come to Paris, and got his contact information. If you’re planning to be in Paris and want a personalized tour like only Eni could show you, get in touch with me and I’ll give you his number and e-mail address. It was absolutely time and money well-spent and gave me an overview that assures me that I’ll just HAVE to come back again and again to this city.
by Maureen | Nov 17, 2009 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Food!, Ireland, Journal
One thing that I brought back with me from my time in Ireland this year was enjoyment of traditional Irish Soda Bread! Here in Italy I’ve been on a constant lookout for dense, moist, flavorful bread with some nutritional value. So much of what I’ve found is white, light, fluffy and dries out in a day. Believe me… I check every bakery I walk past, and there are many!
I did finally find a “delicatessen” offering foods of the Trentino-Alto Adige region of Italy. (This area is along the northern border of Italy, adjacent to and influenced by neighboring Austria.) When I first walked up to the streetside-window of this deli, I thought they should be ashamed of themselves for displaying pastries such as they have. How dare they! But I went in, glanced around and hit the jackpot. They offer dense, multi-grain seeded breads of lush, flavorful varieties. I bought several hunks and walked a mile home. (You can buy a quarter loaf of bread, or less!)
So I’ve been on a mission, and my family back home has helped out. I just received packages full of baking soda and baking powder, brown sugar, measuring cups and spoons, (a few sewing supplies, which have nothing to do with this story)… and today an oven thermometer arrived from my big bro.
Today was my maiden bake-off. In 5 months I’ve never used my oven! I found a recipe online (waiting for my girlfriend to send me her real, traditional Irish recipe). I bought white flour and some sort of flour I can only guess about. I faked the buttermilk with some vinegar and made a mess in my kitchen. (Ahh, I’ve been missing that!) Soda bread is not yeasted, so it goes together quickly and easily; just don’t overwork it!
It cooked in about half an hour and looked beautiful through the oven window. Hot out of the oven, I had a slice with the first butter I’ve eaten in 5 months. (Truth be told, I picked the butter brand because I like the tin it comes in.) The next slice I ate with soft Italian goat cheese. Mmm. I could top it with some sliced tomato, too!
OK. I’ve established for myself how readily I can have the hearty bread I’m looking for, but I’ll have to start finding friends that like it, too. Either give half a loaf away each time, or conjure a half-recipe and make just enough to last three days.
Next, I’ll start experimenting with grain content and other variations. Mmm. A grilled soda bread sandwich with bresaola and gorgonzola? Perhaps.
by Maureen | Oct 26, 2009 | Canals, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Graffiti & Street Art, Journal, Photos, Quips
A wall along the canal features this singing bluebird and it makes me smile every time. Whether intended or not, it feels “sunny” to me and perks me up. My Grandma would have liked it. Her favorite color was blue.
It’s a blue sky Autumn day in Milano today. Mid-60s. Not a cloud and hardly a breeze. The air is fresh. Mmm.
by Maureen | Oct 24, 2009 | Discoveries, Featured Articles, Journal, Photo of the Day, Photos
Imagine having the apartment seen here and looking out your window every day to the mosaic of the three saints on the Basilica of San Simpliciano. (And San Alessandro at the right is looking directly into the window!) There’s also the gargoyle-laden capital at the top of the column just outside the apartment window. What a view.
by Maureen | Oct 22, 2009 | Discoveries, Graffiti & Street Art, Graphics, Journal, Photo of the Day, Photos
This sign stopped me. I grew up hearing the name “Rossignol” in connection with skiis. Here was a cool old bike shop and it had cool old-style bikes inside, plus some swanky, new ones. But no skiis.
I hope they never paint that sign.
by Maureen | Sep 10, 2009 | Canals, Discoveries, Featured Articles, Food!, Journal, Photos
I HAVE made “Muskrat Cacciatore” before, but that was long ago and far away. It was pretty darned good, (yes, it DID taste “just like chicken”) but I think this big guy might be a bit tough. He’s got to be TWICE the size of my head, the granddaddy of them all.
There’s a group of seven muskrats that I see every evening that I go for a ride along the canal. They have a favored spot with some brush for cover if they want it, but they seem fairly used to the bike and foot traffic going by, and nonchalantly continue to forage for roots at the tree bases in “their spot”. They don’t seem to be bothered by anyone (hunted or trapped). There are “no hunting” signs posted along the bikeway.
Imagine, 15 minutes by bike south of Milan – a major, international, cosmopolitan city – and there are “no hunting” signs and muskrats having the time of their lives!
*Acknowledgements to B. Kliban and his wonderfully bizarre humor.
His book title came immediately to mind.
