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On a trip to the circus with Aunt Becky, Catcher manages to snag himself an older woman.

And possibly falls in love…

While in Paris I tried my best to shop.  As we were travelling with a group (whose main interests were wine & food) it became evident that I would have to make a break for it.  The boys planned a day of eating and drinking, that they titled ‘Research,’  so Madame Baker and I headed off to get lost in Gay Paree.  First stop was that cemetery to see our boy Jim Morrison.  Of course when we got there it started storming and black crows began to follow us.  We couldn’t find a map to the biggest (not to mention coolest) cemetery I have ever been in and walked up and down the streets for what seemed like forever.  We finally went back down to the beginning to take pictures on my iPhone of the map and headed back up, soaking wet but with spirits high.

Père Lachaise Cemetery Map from my iPhone

We finally found the man’s grave and guess what?  It was surrounded by stoner’s (surprised?) and it was hella boring.  And there was no graffiti and no bust of the lizard king.  Lamester.  Morrison’s probably laughing his fat ass off.

We left the cemetery, although it didn’t feel like that since we had to walk 10 city blocks to get out the the thing.  But we got out.  And we hopped on a bus that said Bastille and glued our eyes to the bus windows as we drove through the inner workings of Paris.  

We arrived at The Bastille about ten minutes later and had no idea what to expect.  We were absolutely starving so we headed to the nearest cafe and sat down.  After some french onion soup. a ham & cheese croquet, and a bottle of red we ventured across the street into this historical building looking courtyard.  It turned out to be a gateway  to fantastic boutique shopping.  Yipee!

The first store we went into was a designer jewelry store.  All of the jewelry was AMAZING and made by artists throughout Paris.  Of course I manage to find the most expensive ring in the entire store.  My heart just about broke as I picked up the 5 carat topaz and silver ring and read the 600 euro price tag.  Girls got a budget you know.  Thank god the Chef & I don’t use credit cards or I would have definitely bought it.

We kept on keeping on and eventually I found myself in another jewelry store.  This store was different though.  It was called Metal Pointus and it was all handmade & welded silver jewelry.  Madame Baker  & I spent some time in there and I eventually made my first Parisian purchase:

Imagine my surprise when yesterday I was perusing Cool Mom Picks and saw Metal Pointus featured. Fabulous!

The ring itself is pretty fucking awesome.  And it was very reasonably priced.  Waaaaaay under 600 euro.  So I was happy with myself.  And so was the Chef.  My shopping was complete….for that day.

For more info:

METAL POINTU’S

metalpointus@hotmail.fr

Biggie Smalls rocks her new H & M winter coat and manages to look even cuter than normal

Chef Sawyer & Chef Symon

VERSUS

Chef Cosentino

Stay tuned tomorrow night when my favorite Iron Chef Mike Symon, as well as my favorite Chef (husband) square off against my favorite San Francisco Chef Chris Cosentino on IRON CHEF.  Whew!  That’s alot of chef~

 

Being married to a Chef provides me with some really cool perks within the industry.  Travelling with a chef who happens to be great friends with a wine purveyor really opens the schwag (as in celebrity not the sticky icky) doors… While in France, I had the honor along with the Chef to spend the day at Henriot Champagne House.  A house that is normally not open to the public.  

The five of us, including my favorite wine purveyor Mr. William Barefoot of 55 Degrees, hopped on the TGV and headed north to Reims aka Champagne country.  We got in a cab, told the driver the address, and then drove around the city for an hour in search of Henriot.  Eventually our driver found the gated house marked only by a small gold sign.  We somehow arrived early even though we got lost in the cab and waited outside the gate for our host, Beatrice.  None of us knew what to expect.  All we knew is that we were surrounded by beauty and champagne.

Beatrice pulled in and led us behind the ten foot gate.  We walked into the courtyard to see two houses.  She led us in to one of the houses and we were immediatley taken back by this:

 

Entrance to the Henriot Crayères (a system of tunnels and caves that all of the champagne houses share)

Walking in and seeing a staircase that led down 500′ below Earth was pretty breathtaking.  When we heard that we would eventually be taking a tour of the Crayères (something NO tourists/tours/non employees are allowed to do) we almost dropped dead.  We were shocked.  Of course we managed to calm ourselves down after a few glasses of the Henriot.  The tasting itself turned out to be a very informative session.  Being the history nerd that I have turned out to be (thanks Dad) I was hella intrigued to hear the stories of how the champagne houses and Crayères were created ( a mix of the Roman empire, Viking Slaves, and Chalk).

Moussier Wine & I enjoy some Henriot Champagne

After we tasted some really awesome champagne we headed down to the Crayères.  The system of tunnels and caves are shared by all the Champagne houses so it was hard to know whose bottles were whose. Nonetheless it was badass.  Imagine being at least 500′ under ground, the walls made of chalk, and crates and crates of champagne bottles stacked to the top of the caves.  I was overwhelmed with the beauty of it all.

 

Surrounded by Champagne in the chalk Crayères

Once we had finished our tour of the Crayères, Beatrice informed us that she would be taking us to one of Henriot’s vineyards to taste a bottle of ‘88.  Woe is me….

We squeezed into her Puegot (a car after my own heart) and drove through the mountains of Reims, the plains, and finally into the vineyards.  The sight was something my eyes have never seen before.  Looking out of all the car windows I felt as though I was watching a movie or flipping through a postcard book.  The magnificence of the countryside was shocking.  My eyes went crazy tyring to soak it all in.

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Due to the following I am unable to even come close to posting today:

Fois Gras Withdrawl

Wine before noon Withdrawl

Cafe (the best espresso ever) Withdrawal

Duck, Wild Goose, & Wild Chicken Withdrawal

Boeuf Withdrawal

Extreme Make Out Sessions in Public Places Withdrawal

Looking Out My Window and seeing the above picture (minus us) Withdrawal

Chef (mine) Withdrawal

I suck.  Sorry.  Need to enjoy my kids.  Be back soon.  Hopefully.  Sante Bitches.

Chef’s widow has her trip to Paris.  I have mine.  I’m Todd from taawd’s thoughts.  I’m honored to be asked to guest blog while she’s on holiday (that’s how the Europeans say it, when in Paris…)

Here’s one of the days from my European trip that included a couple of day in Paris.  There’s a few extra nuggets added from the original post.

I went with one of my co-workers and we did Paris quickly.  Our day started today around 11:00am.

First stop was the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was beautifully landscaped. The streets of Paris might be dirty but the French respect their landmarks. We heard kids laughing all over the place as they fed ducks in the ponds around the grounds. You couldn’t help notice the Greek influence there.  We did get lost trying to find it. We spent a great deal of time being lost. Make sure you prepare better than we did.  Do not try to be spontaneous on a European vacation, that ain’t happening.

I thought we needed to see the Sacred Coeur. That was easier said than found. We walked what seemed like miles upon miles, asking everyone who didn’t speak good English how to get there. We finally stumbled upon it. Word of advice, take your hiking shoes because it is up on a hill and it is a steep one. The church is just as I’d thought it would be from seeing pictures but I did not know about the panoramic view of Paris you could get from that hill. It was something you couldn’t stop looking at.

We really needed some lunch by this time. On our way up to the church, we got some jambon and fromage (ham and cheese) sandwiches from a bistro. When in France do as the French do, oui? We also used the side of the hill in front of the Sacred Coeur to relax our feet and eat. A sidewalk performer sang everything from Lionel Richie’s “Stuck on You” to The Eagles’ “Hotel California”. We had to laugh because he kept putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable on the word “hotel”, he didn’t hit “ho” but “tel”. It sounded funny.

We went inside the church and I don’t want to keep describing things the same way but it was beautiful and very inspirational. I am not Catholic but you couldn’t help feeling “un peu” closer to God.

Our next stop was some shopping. We decided to take the Metro instead of the RER this time. It was packed. Some fellow tried to get on without paying but the driver spotted him, parked the bus, yelled out a few lines in French and then threatened to call the police before the guy got off the bus. We made a couple of stops and even got to see the famed Moulin Rouge on the way. It was kind of like one of those things where you look up and say “oh look, that’s the Moulin Rouge.”

We ended near the Arc de Triomphe. It is mammoth. I was awed by how big it was. I thought almost as much of the drivers who whiz in circles on the roundabout surrounding the Arc. It was time for some shopping on the Champs Elysees. Wow, the throngs of people pumping lots of money into Paris’ economy. I thought I saw a lot of people on the Magnificent Mile in Chicago but this was something much more. At this time, we were so tired from walking, it actually hurt.

One of the best parts of the trip to Paris was “Boeuf for deux”.   It cost 50 euro, about 75 bucks at the time.  The worst part, we were in Paris so there is no way to take home a doggy bag. We didn’t want to anyhow because the meat wasn’t even extra rare. “They just ran a cow through a warm kitchen”.  Be sure to at least try the language when you are there.  The French don’t like people who don’t even try to speak French.

Guess who almost got thrown in French jail for taking pictures on my iphone at the Picasso Exhibit?

Paris is everything I imagined it would be. And more. I have been fortunate enough to travel the world some and have to agree that Paris, truly is, one of the most beautiful places in the world.

We saw Paris by foot and by ambulance with three kids in tow.

We arrived in Paris at the crack of dawn and instead of resting the kids were all like, “We want to see the Eiffel tower” and “Mama, where is the Eiffel tower?” and “Are we at the Eiffel tower yet?” and “I don’t seeeeeeeeee the Eiffel tower” and “I really WANT to see the Eiffel tower, now!”

So guess what we did first? Before resting. Before breakfast.

We set out to see the Eiffel tower. Without a map of Paris, by foot, that is.

On the train, into the city, we borrowed someone’s map which helped us decide where the closest stop was to the Eiffel tower. “Should we buy a map?” I asked my husband. “No. We should be able to see the Eiffel tower and we can walk toward it.”

Sounded okay to me, the sleep deprived mother of three, after an overnight flight across an ocean. The Eiffel tower IS rather large and we CAN follow it and everyone KNOWS the best way to explore a new city is by foot. And. I reeeeeeeaaaaalllly want an awesome picture of us in front of the Eiffel tower. How classy would that picture look on the wall of my house?

On our mapless walk through the narrow and uneven cobblestone labyrinths of streets we unexpectedly stumbled across many quintessential French icons. On this four hour walk through the streets of Paris. I learned one thing.

You CAN NOT see the Eiffel tower from every point and the streets do not run parallel and you WILL walk around in circles before noticing you are back where you started and then you become pissed that NO ONE in Paris speaks English. You become so angry that you almost want to forget about ever seeing the Eiffel tower.

“Do you want to stop for lunch?” My husband asked me, “No. I just WANT to get to the flipping Eiffel tower already.”

We finally found a business man and stopped him for directions while the kids played in a manicured topiary maze. “Do you speak English? I asked him. “Oui, yes I do.” Finally, I smiled. “How do we get to the Eiffel tower?” He looked at us and smirked, “Are you really walking there?”

By the time we FINALLY reached the Eiffel tower by foot, at 2pm in the afternoon, every single person in our family needed to use the restroom. We tried to find an English speaking person for directions to the Eiffel tower’s restrooms.

The Eiffel tower is a busy place. It is a VERY busy place in the middle of the afternoon and the ONE bathroom facility is even a busier place. After we did what we needed to do, I rounded up the gang to do what I wanted to do. I wanted THAT picture. As we walked away from restrooms, my eldest child tripped and fell and howled in the gravel walkway.

I scooped him up and surveyed the damage. Clean knees, a tiny scratch on his elbow, some pebbles in his mouth, and a bloody forehead.

Shit. Excuse my French.

I looked around and screamed out my husband’s name. A woman, a mom, whom spoke no English, rushed over to me with a fist full of tissues. I held Jay in my arms while sitting in the gravel. I soaked up some blood with the tissues and surveyed the damage again. It was a rather deep wound, an uneven wound, a wound where I could see some of the white fat tissue squeezing out.

Shit. Pardon.

I screamed out my husband’s name again. The woman, who spoke no English, found security. I saw my husband and security approaching me and I tried not to look at Jay’s wound because I could not let my children see that I WAS FREAKING OUT inside. I was not only on the verge of tears I was about to vomit from tiredness, from hunger, from the sheer ugliness of the wound.

Security whisked us away to a secret door that led to the basement of the Eiffel tower. The main command station where the French army men with very huge and very real machine guns hang out protecting Paris’s most famous icon.

Not every six year old boy has a picture in the command station underneath of the Eiffel tower. He was not happy when he learned that we were waiting for the ambulance to take us to the “Hopital Necker Enfants Malades” on rue de Sevres street in Paris for stitches.

I totally FINALLY got THAT picture of one of us in front of the Eiffel tower. Jay in his sister’s stroller with an ice cream cone and wrapped head wasn’t the picture I envisioned hanging on the walls of my house. But it will do.

Back in Cleveland, Jay stopped the lady filling the olive cart at Heinens. “I got stitches, see? Right here.” He pointed to his forehead. “I tripped at the Eiffel tower and fell and sliced my forehead right open.” He proudly explained. “Wow. You fell at the Eiffel tower, in Paris? What were you doing at the Eiffel tower?” She asked. “We were getting ice cream.” Jay smiled.

OhMommy from Classy Chaos