Vacations are never easy, no matter how hard we try. I could have been very satisfied with my trip to France
just in seeing Versailles, but despite how tired we were the three of us decided
to continue on. We caught the train
back to Paris, and headed to the church of Saint Chapelle which is inside what
is essentially the French Supreme court.
The building itself used to be a royal palace, and it’s
nicely sized and not so imposing as the Louvre, though I imagine it used to be
back in the day. Inside we saw
magnificent stained glass on the second floor.
It was a symphony of light that exceeded even Notre Dame and in a much
smaller space. Its certainly impressive despite the size of the church itself.
Supposedly this church
houses the holy relic known as the Crown of Thorns. The legend goes that the crown was the same
one used to mock Jesus on the cross, and that it was brought back to France
during the crusades. The crown is only
on display twice a year, but the church alone is worth seeing.
It’s another flight up narrow steps to reach the sanctuary,
which rests above a small and far less impressive medieval space, but I felt it
was well worth it. There was some
reconstruction, but I could take in each window without too much
disruption.
After this I suggested we walk over to Shakespeare and
Company, a writing landmark that dates back to the 20’s and which housed such
legends as James Joyce, Ernest Hemingway and other luminaries of their
day. The original building was lost in
the war, and this one re-opened to try to capture the essence of the original. I thought it would be a very cool little
place, and that I could buy a book there.
What I found was a tiny bookstore that was more tourist
trap than actual store. There was no
real charm, no place to sit and talk.
There were tons of people there simply to see it and it really was no
Rhyme or reason to any of the books.
Hemingway, Joyce etc would be ashamed to see this place. The title, “Shakespeare and Company” seems
just a formality. Maybe I was just
tired and cranky, and maybe without crowds it would have been better, but it disappointed
me as a writer who looks to such legendary predecessors.
Upon returning to the hotel we decided to ask for a new recommendation. After all, we'd had luck the previous day. This time we were sent in the opposite
direction of “Le Bonne Excuse” almost literally. It was a very traditional, very French
restaurant much larger and with far more employees.
The host was a “charming” man, whose warm and gracious
smile could vanish in an instant turning away from you. We certainly excused a problem with
communication, but he brought us the wrong drinks, the wrong food, the wrong
everything. It was expensive too, and at
two hours long it was just an ordeal. At least it put perspective to our wonderful time at “Le Bonne
Excuse.”
The owners of that restaurant may have been on a quieter street, with a smaller restaurant, but they left no detail to chance. They were there, they were friendly, and they were genuinely appreciative. The food was so good, the atmosphere so warm.
It wasn't the worst food we had by far, but it wouldn't be
a trip to a foreign country without such an experience. Unfortunately, it would be the harbinger of
some things to come. My Dad had a tickle
in his throat, and he ordered whiskey to try to help. Both my Mom and I looked to one another with
dread. Dad was getting sick on our
vacation.
