February 28: Exiting immersion

I hobble on blistered feet to the nearest quay facing Notre Dame. I have a few moments left to soak in Parisian ambiance before heading to the airport. I end my trip where I started, gazing at Hotel de Ville. Ten days of intense French immersion. I manage quite well sans dictionary, including two guided visits’ commentaries. RER line B takes me from Gare du Nord to Charles de Gaulle. No time to zip over to Terminal 1--I would have wanted to see the crisscrossing pedestrian tubes, as featured in many a 70’s French flick. I barely have time to enjoy the Maple Leaf Lounge's French cheeses and mousse before heading to the gate. I am lucky--I have been upgraded to one of those cushy first class seats. We land in Montreal a bit late. I miss my connection. This must be common--the Air Canada staff don’t even blink an eye. I arrive at Toronto Pearson. My bags didn’t make it onto the flight but did show up on the next. With all the delays, I finally get home 3 hours late. Home is still a very nice place to be.

February 27: I think, therefore I appreciate life

One discovery on this trip is that I much prefer new experiences than re-living the so-called good old times. I search for something new to do in Paris--a bit difficult on my 15th visit.

I hoof my way past Cardinal Richelieu's tomb at the Sorbonne to Jardin du Luxembourg's Medici fountain. I have spent many a lunch hour sitting in its shadow between classes. I laze while Parisians jog around me. A lineup: it’s the Lucas Cranach exhibit at Musee du Luxembourg. This will be something new. A woman sells me her extra ticket--I bypass the long queue. I see evolution of Cranach’s style along with his contemporaries. This gives me much more insight into his elongated idealized forms of Eve. This 15th century renaissance man is ahead of his time: he paints of "woman power", albeit in a different context.

I continue my wanderings to Musee Rodin’s gardens. A long queue forms for the Henry Moore exhibit. I will give this one a miss. After all, Toronto holds the largest Moore collection in the world. Bonus: the gardens are free today. I head to my favourite piece, the Bughurs of Calais, depicting a moving story when six city officials opted to sacrifice their lives to spare the people of Calais.

I continue on past Mansart’s grand dome housing Napoleon’s tomb. I get up close with the Eiffel Tower, then over the Seine to Trocadero. I rest my blistered feet on the metro to La Défénse just outside of Paris. It’s Grande Arche is slightly off axis with the Arc de Triomphe, Champs Elysees, the Tuileries, and the Pyramids of the Louvre. The modern whites play contrast to Belle Epoque Paris.

My legs are giving out. My trip ends none too soon.

February 26: Bonus car day

I return the peppy rental car. Except I don’t. The rental agency is just next to the train station. “Can I leave my luggage with you?” I inquire boldly. That would be much easier than lugging all by foot. “Oh, you can keep the car until your train departure!”

Bonus! I take the extra half day to visit Brantôme, dubbed the Venice of the Perigord. Beyond the greyness is a beautiful town filled with rivers and bridges. I visit the abbey--a reminder of the power wielded by the church within each community. The meeting places hewn into the rock cliffs, the icons sculpted into stone walls.

I return to Perigueux to wander through medieval streets past hawking Saturday market vendors. For lunch, I forego more truffles (how I can beat lunch from yesterday?) to try another fungus of the region: cêpes (fresh porcini mushrooms).

A long train ride back to Paris Austerlitz, a walk by Jardin des Plantes along the Seine back to le Marais. I head for some Morroccan food in the 11th arrondisement. This area is abuzzing--young local crowd, a bit boho, more casual than the 6th. Le Souk certainly delivers--heaps of fluffy couscous accompanied by stewed vegies. I am well sated. I stop off at Café des Phares for a bad hot chocolate and a good view of Bastille. Another packed day.

February 25: Chacun son château

I pick up my rental car--10 minutes to figure out how to set the reverse gear. From then on, I enjoy my first driving experience in Europe. I pretend I understand all the traffic signs. Cars tailgate me as I speed along the road wending through Perigord’s rolling landscape. Is the speed limit what is posted?

I reach Les Eyzies to visit the Grotte de Font de Gaumes. This is the only polychrome cave in the area where visits are still permitted.

The best of the day is not the drive in chateau dotted valleys, nor the cave paintings that I have come to see, but an unforgettable dining experience, unique for its spontaneity and adventurous offerings. I stop by the tourist office. “Where can I get a good meal with truffles?” I am directed to Le Grand Bleu in Sarlat la Caneda, a local restaurant recognized by Guide Michelin. I drive into the honey coloured village and head straight for the restaurant.

“No, I don’t have a reservation.”

“Can the chef make something vegetarian?”

“Can I have truffles?”

I expect a hastily whipped up truffle specked omelet. Instead, what transpires is one of those rare sublime meals.

“Yes, the chef can do a vegetarian truffle menu”.

I expect an appetizer, main course and dessert. Instead, I get 6 stunning dishes with my bonus truffle topped butter (I know I am being gauche requesting butter but the bread is too good not to eat with freshly churned butter--made on premise, no less). I really won’t say more--I’ll let the photos do the talking (along with the following descriptions).

Amuse bouche: blini topped with beets and truffle slice, dill fritters, lightly vinegared cabbage slaw

Appetizer: Parsnip cream topped with savoury pumpkin sorbet garnished with truffles (yes, that is a blanket of black Perigord truffle slices)

First main course (I didn’t realize that there would be two): Truffade with lightly poached egg garnished with truffles and greens

Second main course: Truffled rice in chard rolls topped with truffles

Dessert: French toast topped with truffle slices with truffle ice cream (not the chocolate variety--the real thing) with truffle specked quince reduction and truffle caviar

To finish: Basil macarons, anise flavoured tuiles, and caneles (local chewy cake).

Lunch lasts 2 1/2 hours through the 6 robust courses. I work off a teeny fraction of the meal with a quick tour of the town’s medieval quarters.

With no reservations for Lascaux (the original reason for a visit to the region), I rush off to up my chance of a viewing of these famed cave paintings--or at least the fascimile of them. I first heard about Lascaux in 1985 when my sphere coincided with that of Tito Scaiano, a research scientist at the National Research Council laboratories, one of 3 people admitted into the original cave. That fact and viewing of Lascaux II (a replica of the cave 200 metres away) is as close as I will get to the real thing.

I stop off to shop at mega-supermarket Carrefour: Cote d’Or chocolate enrobing sesame seeds and violet fig jam to tote back to Toronto.

February 24: In search of signs of life, prehistoric and otherwise

What possessed me to book a 12 hour train trip? The only redeeming part is the sunrise over the Cote d’Azur--the signature Baie d’Ange condos, the rocky outcrops near St Raphael, the highly stylized penitentiary--even the outlaws live well in France.

I am heading to Perigord to view the famed cave paintings. Timing is just right: we are in the thick of truffle season and Perigord's black truffles are considered the best.

A quick train change in Lyon, just enough time to pop by Chez Paul for a panini and chausson aux pommes. I arrive in Perigueux in rainy darkness. I walk to my hotel across the river from the medieval quarters. The first 2 floors do not look promising but my climb up 4 flights of stairs leads me to a beautifully appointed wooden beamed gable room. Luxury at such a petit price.

A rule to which I adhere (most significant while travelling on a budget during my student days): at least one hot meal per day. I pop into the only place showing warmth and human action at this late hour: Cafe de la Place. The truffle omelet is far from outstanding but the iced nougat with tart berries goes down easily.

February 23: Bad food day

Three bus stops later, I finally manage to catch a bus to St Paul de Vence. All the trouble is worth it: the stunning art collection at Maeght Foundation, the narrow cobbled streets, the vista extending down the valley to the Mediterranean. No wonder that such a large number of renown 20th century artists spent time here.

Occasionally, even for me, art trumps food. I head to Colombe d'Or to eat steamed vegetables surrounded by Leger, Miro, and Picasso. I do not regret the choice.

I head to Vence and Matisse's masterpiece, the Chapelle Rosaire. His minimal strokes create such expressive pieces--really a master at the height of his craft. The funky pink and chartreuse vestments are like no other.

I return to Nice. The bakery that makes my favourite friands is no longer. I settle on a socca (chickpea based crispy crepe) snack instead. I have a run-in with Lafayette's cashier, who is suspicious and not too smart (I could use other words...). I am such a francophile but the French are doing their best to make me change my mind on this trip. I walk out without my Cote d'Or chocolate fix. To top all off, as I return to Terres des Truffes for some truffled potato mash, the place was just closing up. Not a single diner showed up tonight (except me...). Sad, really, for the restaurant; with Carnaval and in full truffle season, this place should have been packed. With such a disastrous food day, all I can do is go to home base and have a cup of tea.

February 22: Vitamin D consumption

This dose of vitamin D is just what the doc (me...) ordered. The sun warms deeper than skin. I wander through Nice's flower market to the promenade. I dip a couple digits into the Mediterranean blue. I climb up the hill to the old castle site. Instead of hordes of tourists, I am surprised by the space around me. Mosaics abound (inspiration for my next project). I head back down to the promenade and quite haphazardly, came upon the Terres des Truffes. It is full truffle season and I intend to get a few truffle meals into me. I order the recommended tortellini with truffles and cream sauce--absolutely divine. I try the black truffle oil--much more pungent than the white truffle oil to which I am accustomed.

Well sated, I exit the restaurant right into the crowd lining up for the Carnaval parade. I wait with the rest. Colourful floats, some kitschy, some fun. Getting the confetti out of my clothes will take days, I think. My favourite is the 'crowd participation required' washing machine. One hour of parade watching is enough for me--I walk along the parade route to fast forward the action. I return to home base.

I have to get a place to stay in Les Eyzies. Obviously it is low season (despite what the train people tell me)--only one inn is open for overnight guests. I change itinerary once again with some trepidation. I will have to overnight in Perigueux and will be driving a car in Europe for the first time. Maybe I should go somewhere else? Or maybe just stay in Nice?

I try to rent one of the commuter bikes in Nice but it turns out I have to have a working phone (somehow mine does not have service in France).

I keep my eyes out for the bakery I first frequented 20 years ago on my first visit to Nice--is it still around? Do they still make friands?

I try out a highly touted vegetarian restaurant in Nice, the Zucca Magica. While inventive, vegetarian food can still be so much better, even in France.

February 21: Paul Bocuse does vegies

I tiptoe quietly out, conscious of nearby sleeping guests. I catch the TGV to Lyon. This is a pilgrimage to the cradle of French cuisine. I reach destination way before my 12 :30 p.m. seating reservation at Le Sud, one of Paul Bocuse’s brasseries, by far the most vegetarian friendly of the lot. My luggage is in tow; I bypassed the left luggage by accident. The restaurant is under renovations and refuses to keep my small suitcase for an hour or so while I wander around. I do not let luggage encumbrances cramp my style and continue across the Saone to visit the old town. Cobbled streets and luggage wheels do not mix well. I convince the Miniatures Museum to keep my bags. This will guarantee a return visit later. Now I am free to duck into the nearby traboules. These interconnecting passages through courtyards were central to the Resistance Movement during World War II.

I return to Le Sud. The tagine is delicious, but does not quite live up to the memories of my first visit 14 years ago.

I return for a thoroughly entertaining time at the privately run Miniatures Museum. (Check out the photo above of Maxim’s in miniature)

Time to head to the train station and Nice. Four hours later, I walk out in the relatively warm night air. The large carnival mascots light up the night. A booking error at the spanking new St. Exupery Beach accommodations-- I end up sharing space with 5 others in a 13 bed dorm room. This is not a bad outcome--I have great roommates, part of the positives of hostelling through Europe.

February 20: Black and white and red all over

Sunday mornings is as quiet as Paris gets--shops are closed, car traffic is minimal. This is evident on my stroll on Ile St. Louis. I head for action at my favourite Parisian market: Sundays at Bastille. If only I had a kitchen to cook up some chanterelles and artichokes. I buy a kilo of blood oranges instead. Place des Vosges is nearby--great for a few minutes repose. Today's agenda: Mondrian and the de Stijl exhibit at Georges Pompidou. This is the perfect antidote to the rain--bright reds and blues on white. This will be the inspiration for my next mosaic project. I am starving after 2 1/2 hours of the exhibit. I lucked out--there is a vegetarian restaurant nearby, le Potager du Marais--deliciously prepared meal with much thought to nutrition. So far, this is the best vegetarian restaurant I've come across in France.

I head back to Georges Pompidou for the permanent collection. Lots of Leger is hanging today, which pleases me to no end. I take a quick tour of the Brancusi workshop to end the day.

I toy with the idea of returning to le Potager but opt for a filling falafel in the Jewish quarters instead. I could easily just head to bed but force myself to go out once again. I wander across Pont des Arts to the 6ieme. I browse in the Meilleur Ouvrier de France shops along St. Germain. After Kings of Pastry, I have a new appreciation for the spread before me.

Bateaux-Mouches sail along the Seine, lighting up monuments along the bank. Teenagers practise their trick blading repertoires. Notre Dame looms ahead.

I walk back to home base. I do have an early start tomorrow.

February 19: The good, bad, and not much ugly

Paris' charm shows through the downpour. I stop by Niki St. Phalle's Stravinsky Fountain. Only the firebird is in place.

What is not so charming anymore is train travel in France. I spend 2 very frustrating hours at the SNCF office. My plan was to quickly book my couchettes for the night trains. Instead of more freedom with my FrancePass, it has become very limiting. Only a few spots are available on each train and the ones I want are not available. February is as low as tourist season gets; I cannot imagine what Spring and Summer would be like. I will have to spend 2 extra days travelling instead of riding the time saving night trains. What is even worse is the late arrival of day trains. I will have to prearrange all accommodations because of this.

New vegetarian restaurants have opened. I check out Veget'Halles--decent passable food. I continue my wanderings, popping into the new Lafayette Maison, tasting Angelina's hot chocolate, sniffing away at Fragonard's perfume shop, and feasting my eyes on Fauchon's selections. I continue along Faubourg St. Honore past rue Cambon where the upshot, Coco Chanel, opened her shop decades ago. The draw of Place Vendome is not Napoleon in Roman garb but rather the exquisitely designed jewels at Van Cleef & Arpels.

It is Saturday night in Paris, but I forego a night out for a simple fruit and cheese dinner and bed...not quite seizing the day/night.

February 18: Paris wanderings

I emerge from the metro into Le Marais. This is where I started my first Parisian experience 20 years ago. I drop off my bags at a charming 13th century half timbered auberge. First stop is the belle epoque Hotel de Ville of Doisneau fame. I cross the river to Notre Dame de Paris. I've forgotten how grand this place is: the soaring Gothic arches, the rose windows, the gargoyles. I cross the river yet again to Rive Gauche for a view of Notre Dame from Rene Viviani Square and continue past Shakespeare & Co, the 90 year old English bookshop. Old man Whitman is no longer at the till. I continue down touristy Rue de la Harpe. I grab a crepe from Crepes Genia, which serves the nearby Sorbonne students rather than the tourist crowd. I wander past Boul St. Mich to Boul St. Germain past Le Procope (the original restaurant, as per legends) Les Deux Magots and on to Rennes and Sevres. I locate the duBuffet Foundation--luckily I have the address--I would not have found this place otherwise. The small collection takes only about 40 minutes to see. I head back to Bon Marche's Grande Epicerie. Its selection has grown since my last visit. I cross the Seine back to the Right Bank and the Tuileries. Trees have been removed and statues are now more prominent. What is missing are the kids sailing wooden boats in the basins--maybe in the Spring?

I continue past the Ferris Wheel to Place de la Concorde. I have seen both this obelisk and its sister in Luxor. My feet are sore, but I continue along the Champs Elysees to Laduree. Macarons is the biggest trend in town and this is the place with the most reknown. A few steps more to the Arc de Triomphe and an end to this long day.

February 17: A plus tard!

Today is “Donate your Lunch Money Day” I do not forego lunch but do donate to Second Harvest. Instead, I consume a beautiful lunch at Frank at AGO, followed by a visit to the Maharaja exhibit once again. This time, I am given my personal architectural tour of the paintings--fascinating to see them from this angle.

My father's illness has changed the direction of my life these past couple of weeks. I toy with the idea of postponing the last 6 months of this year. D, unknowingly, I think, expresses the right words of encouragement. I give thought to my life unfolding this year--adversity as such is part of the story. I will carry on. He is fast becoming the mentor that I so need.

Last minute preps today. I fly to France tonight. It may sound like extravagance, but a ticket to Paris is not much more than a ticket to Vancouver. I am returning to old haunts as this is my fifteenth visit to the city, which includes 5 months studying French at the Sorbonne.

I feel like Jonah, heading in the opposite direction of where I should be. My father in Vancouver and me on the next continent.

February 16: Goodbye car!

Yippee! Finally , I join the car-free ranks. Car insurance cancelled. Plates returned. I’m already ahead by $310 this month--and this does not include gas, depreciation, or parking. I celebrate with a stroll to the new Khao San Road restaurant for Nuit Regular’s northern Thai style pad thai. More walking, more errands. I have coffee with Rob who has been to Atikokan twice--probably the only Australian to have that distinction! He updates me on the latest Atikokan gossip.