These messages are from a series of e-mails written after our vacation to Paris and Italy, in the summer of 2002. The events recounted in this internet diary occurred on Monday, June 24.
--Jim McQueen
Monday, June 24, was the day we all departed from Paris. Mom had a morning flight home. Susan would fly to meet us in Venice, and she planned to share a blue airport shuttle with Mom.
The four of us had reserved berths on a train that departed for Venice at 8:00 PM. During the week I had been wondering how to handle the logistics. The previous Saturday morning, I had left early and gone alone to Gare Bercy. This was the station we would leave from, and it was good that I surveyed it ahead of time -- they had no baggage lockers. The clerk at the ticket counter spoke only French, but he made it clear that baggage could be stored at the larger Gare de Lyon, next door. Well, it may have been next door, but it was at the farthest end of a HUGE station -- probably 3/4 of a mile away. We didn't want to stash our luggage there for the day.
Finally, the day before our train, I managed to reach the local manager of our apartment for advice. It turned out to be simple -- we could leave our packed bags inside the apartment, and collect them in the evening. Perfect!
So, we spent Monday morning packing, with several phone calls to Mom and Susan to coordinate and say "Au revoir". We stuffed our backpacks with whatever we'd need for the day, lined up our luggage inside the front door, and wandered out into Paris.
We wanted to go someplace relaxing, that wouldn't impose any further agenda on our day. There was a large park on the eastern edge of Paris that seemed attractive, so after a last e-mail from Easy Everything, that's where we headed. It was our eighth day in Paris, and our seven-day metro passes had expired, so I had to buy a "carnet" -- a 10-pack of metro tickets.
We took the metro to Château de Vincennes, on the edge of Vincennes park. You could go into the château for a tour, but we were getting hungry, and decided find lunch first. The guide books mentioned various choices, but we didn't have a map of the park, and weren't sure which was closest. We wandered into the park looking for signs.
The park really is huge, we walked quite a way before we found a map. Our guide book had mentioned a café on an island in the middle of a lake, so we located the lake on the map. It looked like a long walk, but we'd already had a long walk without seeing anything better, so we continued in that direction. Probably a mistake -- we wound up walking almost an hour.
It was a pretty park, though. At one point, we passed the Paris Zoo. We might have spent the day there, but we were intent on finding lunch. We walked past the "Ecole de Chiens Guides d'Aveugles", and were pleasantly surprised when Sean translated that for us -- it was a school for Seeing Eye dogs. We peered through the gate for a long time, but didn't see any dogs. (Look at the picture carefully, though. Sean's a good three or four inches taller than Nancy.)
By the time we finally found the lake, we'd seen about as much park as we needed for one day.
Love,
Jim
Once we arrived at the lake in Vincennes park, we got lucky and chose the correct direction to cross the bridge onto the island. The island was wooded and roomy, but it seemed like there was only one facility on it -- the café we had come for.
There were actually two sections to it, a formal restaurant and a large outdoor patio area. Nobody was sitting outside, and it took us a moment to decide if they were actually open for business. They were, and we took the only table in the shade. The long walk revived our interest in ham and cheese on a baguette.
The restaurant had people in business attire inside, possibly something like a Rotary Club luncheon. There didn't seem to be any other activity on the island, it felt a little out-of-the-way. Maybe the area residents have forgotten this pleasant little garden in their neighborhood.
Next to the patio was a little playground, and a miniature golf course. The playground gate was padlocked shut, and the miniature golf office had a sign in French that probably said something like, "Ask in the café for help." We sent the boys back, and sure enough they returned with putters, golf balls, and score sheets with tiny pencils. It was an enjoyable way to spend an hour, watching the kids roam the weathered golf course at will, knocking balls around the weeds growing in the cracks of the pavement.
By the middle of the afternoon we'd done all there was to do on the island, and we started to make our way out of the park. We chose different street corner as our destination, with a metro station closer than the one we had arrived at. This section of the park had more activity, people were picnicking, riding bikes, and necking in areas of tall grass. We passed a group of middle-aged, working-class men playing boules, a game with balls rolled into each other on the lawn. (It was very picturesque, I'm disappointed that my pictures of it were lost.)
We found our metro station with only a little trouble. We decided we still had a little time left, so we rode to a station near the Ile Ste. Louis, and bought some more ice cream cones.
Nancy and I have fond memories of a nondescript restaurant we'd been to in the 80's. It was on the main lengthwise street of Ile Ste. Louis, and the staff then hadn't spoken a word of English. But they were very friendly and patient with us, and we'd had a wonderful meal. Nancy and I have forgotten the name of the restaurant (if we ever knew it), but we walked the neighborhood while we ate our ice cream, and we found an establishment that may or may not have been the place.
When the ice cream was gone, we took our last metro ride back to the apartment.
Love,
Jim