Sitting on the high-speed train out of Paris, it doesn’t take long before the city and its suburbs fade away and you’re out into the country. After the U.S., France exports the most food of any country in the world, and it’s obvious when you travel away from the capital region. The rolling hills, bright green fields, and straight rows remind me of driving across the country, particularly the Midwest, and call to mind that France is known as Europe’s bread basket.

That’s not to say that there aren’t regional changes. It’s much flatter in the north. Hills develop in the middle of the country, and by the time you reach the south, you can see some of the Alps. There are more animals as you get further south, and there is clearly a beef region — where herds of off-white cows graze. The south’s building material of choice is a yellowish stone. I don’t know what it is, but I imagine it contributes to outsiders’ positive impression of the area.

Aix en Provence (imagine if the mouthful it would be to say Springfield in Massachusetts every time you wanted to say where you lived…) is a city of 170,000, although I’d be hard-pressed to guess that. The TGV station is 20 minutes outside of town, and Rudi and I caught a bus in. My initial impression was one of dread, as you come in through a suburban sprawl, and the bus deposits you in the area near the police station and psychiatric hospital, with depressing little shops, all of which were closed today. Less than a mile away, though, and you reach the Cezanne fountain, where you begin to realize that life isn’t all that bad.

Given that I only decided at 2:30 a.m. that we were headed to Aix, I didn’t have hotel reservations, although our guide books did offer some affordable suggestions. After stopping at the local tourism office, which generously staffs a person who speaks English, we found ourselves headed to L’Hotel des Quatre Dauphins. Our room is on the second floor (although the French would tell you it’s the first floor, since it’s above the ground floor) and is wallpapered in the same reassuring yellow of the Provencal buildings. The bedspread, the bathroom, and the curtains are a delft blue, and modest white painted furniture rounds out the furnishings.

We arrived mid-afternoon and, after checking in, headed out to check out the town. We toured the Granet Museum, devoted to European art from the 14th-19th century. This hometown of Paul Cezanne houses a modest museum with a surprisingly large collection. From the outside, I would never have guessed they managed to squeeze as many works in as they do. They also get high marks from me for just putting the works up on the wall, where you can get up close and personal with the art (although I did witness one man open up an antique harpsichord, so perhaps I can understand why most museums opt to forgo that policy) and where the lights are surprisingly bright so you can get a real feel for how vibrant some of those paints were.

Ready for some refreshment after our excursion, we ended up on the town’s main drag, a broad avenue of shops and restaurants. We seated ourselves at Les Deux Garcons, an ancient cafe that predates the Revolution and that was a haunt of Cezanne and Emile Zola. Their chocolat chaud was delicious. We wandered some more after sunset and roamed the twisting streets now lined with shops closed for the night. Several squares offer cafes and many of the streets include fountains. Aix was created by the Romans around its thermal spas and its ancestry is obvious. (Aix derives from Aquae Sextius, the town’s original name.) We walked as far out as the ring road around the center of town and then headed back past the cathedral and the city hall. We stopped for another hot drink (it’s warmer in Provence than in Paris, but still nippy after dark) and then went on to dinner. Afterwards, we took in a current movie — Les Bouquets Finals — a funereal comedy.

Tomorrow, we’ll spend some more time in town before catching the local train up to Avignon, the one-time home away from home for the Pope when the Romans chased them out.

Just a quick note because it’s 2:30 a.m. and we have to get up early to get out of town. Today we went up to Montmartre to visit Sacre-Couer, a lovely Byzantine-style, startlingly white church perched on the highest point in the city. It’s surrounded by little parks, where you can stop and eat lunch or just soak up the atmosphere. The views were stunning and well worth the trip. (Thanks, Elspeth, for the encouragement!)

After a side trip to a patisserie and a cafe (for tea and toilet), we caught the Metro over to the Place de la Concourse, where we walked along the Champs Elysees, which culminates at l’Arc de Triomphe. As we approached l’Arc, we could hear a band playing. Curious, we joined the crowd at the edge of the street, where we discovered the dress rehearsal for the Armistice Day celebration was going on. Since we wouldn’t be able to attend tomorrow’s real memorial, this was an appreciated coincidence to find our second-best option. Sure we miss the French president, but we got all the pomp (and none of the French speechifying that we were sure to miss the majority of anyway…). After the gendarmes released the crowd, we headed into the tunnel over to the l’Arc. The veterans were all headed home, all decked out in their regimental attire and several carrying standards. As we paused in the tunnel to take a few pictures, one veteran unfurled his flag so we could get a shot of it. Very sweet.

A quick aside: Remember the fallen soldiers tomorrow (11 a.m. on the 11th day of the 11th month). So many of the most recent dead are now a decade or more younger than we are (and will remain ever so). Heartbreaking…

We opted to forgo both the top of the arch and the bateau mouche ride as today was cold and drizzly with ridiculously fierce winds. I don’t know gale force from any other type, but I do know that periodically it was hard to remain standing in one place and that the wind seemed determined to remove my knit hat from my head. Didn’t seem like a good sort of cruising weather. Maybe Friday if we get back to town early enough — or on the next trip.

Our plans for tomorrow call for us to catch a high-speed train to Aix-en-Provence — either at 9:42 or at 3:30, depending on how together we are in the morning. We’ll stay there for a day or two and then head to Avignon for a few more days, before returning here Friday night. I’m not sure what the Wi-Fi options will be like in France’s smaller cities, so I may not get to post until we’re back in the capital. I promise to take vigorous notes if I have to upload posts until later…

A demain!

So… before I launch into today’s adventures, I’m soliciting opinions. Our original plan has us departing Paris early Tuesday morning and returning Friday afternoon/evening before our Saturday flight home. Tuesday afternoon through Friday morning was supposed to be spent in Provence. As our time here dwindles and I realize how little we’ve managed to squeeze in, I’m wondering if we ought to change our plans and stay here. Will we regret changing the plans? Will we be glad to have had more time in one place? What do you think?

That thought shared, today was an adventure indeed. Remember how our plans called for a jam-packed day of a trip to Versailles followed by the Eiffel Tower and a boat ride along the Seine? Ummm, yeah… about that:

a) It helps if you pay attention when getting on a train out of town. If you have doubts or wonder how you know if you’re getting on the correct train…

b) pay attention. Make sure that the stops are ones you’re expecting. If you aren’t expecting any particular stops for a while…

c) make sure that the train is, for instance, going in the direction you expect. A train traveling northeast of your location is unlikely to be heading to a city southeast of it. Oops. But our travels to some northern suburbs of Paris did afford us a very nice view of a windmill on a hill in the distance…

Versailles’ loss was the Musee d’Orsay’s gain. We spent several hours wandering one of Paris’ former train stations — now home to the semi-Modern art museum covering the years from 1850 to 1915 (or so…). I always enjoy a nice Monet and do not particularly care for opulence, so this was probably a good turn of events…. Plus we got to have a drink in the cafe where we sat in front of a giant clock that reminded me of the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkhaban movie. The only thing that confused me was why Mary Cassatt wasn’t included amongst the artists. I mean, I know she was technically American, but her work was all done from France, so generally that’s how she’s classified.

It was kind of chilly this evening with a brisk breeze, so we decided to postpone the boat ride until tomorrow, giving me a chance to procure a pashmina-style shawl to wear over my corduroy jacket. Thank goodness we made that decision because the crowds at the Eiffel Tower would never have permitted us to make the ride. The winds were bitter, particularly up on the top observation deck, but I’m so glad we went up to see the view. Really, really impressive. (I could do without the Eiffel Sparkle, though. It’s gorgeous from the ground, but kind of nauseating from up in the air.)

Tomorrow’s plans? Provided we have better luck following through on them, we’ll be heading to L’Arc de Triomphe and les Champs Elysses and Sacre Couer. And that bateau mouche ride, of course…

PS: Jenn, I ate that pain au chocolat for you today. We bought them at the farmers’ market at the Metro station, so I don’t think it could get much more authentic…

This will just be a quick post to say that it’s late and we’re heading to Versailles tomorrow. Then in the evening, we’re hoping to crest the Eiffel Tower and cruise the Seine on a bateau mouche. We’ll be stopping at the local farmers’ market down by the Metro en route out of the city to grab picnic supplies. (Why, yes, I am feeling more confident about my French. Thanks for asking. I am still not confident about understanding the French, but we seem to get by, and Rudi’s skills in this arena are superior to mine.)

Today’s excitement included a trip to the Luxembourg Gardens where we pretended to be les enfants — we quite enjoyed the marionette/puppet version of Three Little Pigs (which included a reformed wolf at the end) and steering toy sailboats on the fountain. The Gardens may be my favorite place yet in Paris.

And because I know Jenn is wondering about today’s menu, we ate at a boulangerie for lunch where Rudi had really fresh and excellent brioche and I had (wait for it) a giant macaron (not a macaroon; that’s totally different — macarons are like meringue sandwiches) that included basil as an ingredient and was filled with fromage blanc and decorated with huge raspberries. Heavenly!!! We supplemented that with a seed-laden baguette. And dinner was at a local French restaurant recommended by Christiane yesterday. Rudi ate snails and beef and yogurt, all of which he said were quite tasty. I had a salad with warmed chrevre, a very mild fish with utterly dull vegetables, and a chocolate Charlotte, which kind of reminded me (in a good way) of Carvel ice cream cake. I’m sure the French would be delighted with the comparison.

Oh, and Rudi went out while I was looking stuff up on Provence and came back with Orangina for me, a French biere for himself, and a Nutella crepe to share. What a nice guy!

I forgot my address book (as well as a few other items, but it’s easier to replace a razor than 50+ addresses) at home. If you’d like a postcard, please email me your address. Mum and Dad, I know yours. Everyone else, I need a hand…

Today was a full day. We had an appointment at 10 with a very nice French woman, Christiane, who volunteers with Parisian d’un Jour (I’ll link things when I get back…), a neat organization Jenn linked to last month that pairs up foreign-language speakers in Paris with tourists to show them their version of Paris. Christiane lives in the 14e Arrondisement, not too far from where we’re staying and has lived in that area for 30+ years. Through a mist/drizzle, she led us from an outdoor market (where Rudi ogled the chanterelles) to an architectural museum that has one of the oldest trees in Paris (planted by, I think she said, Chateau Briand. That might not be right, though, because I think that’s a piece of meat (or maybe a style of cooking meat).).

She also snuck us into the Sorbonne, which is a closed campus, before heading off to her own Italian class. Wow. Very cool.

The afternoon was spent at the Louvre. They say that you need several days to look at everything the Louvre has to offer. That’s not true. It’s only true if you actually care about everything you’re looking at. If you’re just walking past with a glazed look on your face, wondering where they’re hiding the water fountains, it will take you far less time. That said, we did see Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory (go Conn!), and an awful lot of half-dressed and undressed women. Most of them were captured in the art. (Have you noticed that artists seem to be under the impression that women are incapable of wearing clothing over their top half? Seriously, people!)

We came back to the hotel where I totally crashed for a couple hours. While I napped, Rudi read through our guide books and decided on a spot for dinner — Le Cafe Maure, associated with Paris’ major mosque, which operates a tea house and restaurant that keep late hours. We had an excellent dinner of couscous, mint tea, and tasty pastries.

It was a good day.

I’m instituting a couple changes for the rest of my trip. I’ve changed the commenting policy so that if you’ve left a comment here before, your comment ought to automatically appear without having to wait for my approval. (We’ll see how that works with the comment spam and re-evaluate as necessary.) If you haven’t left a comment before, then I believe I’ll still have to approve your note before it will appear. Also, I’ll reply to your comments in the comments. That way it can be a continuing discussion. That’s it. Now we’re off to plan tomorrow’s adventures!

Three beautiful things from my past week:

1. An errant leaf that resembles a parking ticket draws me down the road just as a blue jay soars past.

2. The waitress at the restaurant where we had dinner runs next door to break my 50 Euro note so I can leave her a tip. And a random stranger at the Montparnasse Metro station uses her card to open the turnstile when my suitcase gets stuck and refuses to budge.

3. Obama. Yes we can and yes we did. The days ahead are grave, but people needed to believe that their voices mattered — and this proved that they did.