Lost in Provence

Happy Birthday to Me!

Champagne on the train

Just when even I thought I couldn't get any more spoiled, my husband took me to Paris to see Sting on my birthday. Our friends Jan and Paul drove us to the train station in Aix in the morning, kindly relieving us of the burden of leaving our car overnight in the expensive lot there. Just being on the train was a treat for me. I love to travel by train. You don't have to go through security or get jostled by your fellow travelers in long lines, the seats are comfortable and offer plenty of leg room, and there's always the view! You don't get to see the French countryside race by your window when you're on a plane.

My clever husband worked the numbers and figured it would cost the same amount for me to pack us a picnic lunch with a split of Moët & Chandon Champagne than to pay the extortionist prices for a lunch from the bar car. I packed us some club sandwiches, potato chips and Ferrero Rocher chocolates. Is it just me, or do club sandwiches always feel like vacation? They remind me of going to Florida with my family as a child. Are club sandwiches a very "hotel restaurant" menu item, or is it that nobody ever makes themselves a club sandwich at home? Whatever the case, they were tasty and felt like a treat.

Mama Shelter

When we arrived in Paris, we went to our hotel in the 20th arrondisement, Mama Shelter. I read about this cheap and chic hotel in Vanity Fair and can't rave about it enough. A standard double room is just €89 per night. The decor is Phillipe Starck, the products in the bath are from Kiehl's and the computers in the business center are all Macs. The restaurant had a cool, loungy vibe with overstuffed couches, a foosball table and a projection screen showing Tex Avery cartoons. I think it is the hippest place either of us has ever been.

Restaurant at the Ritz

After dropping off our luggage, we proceeded on to the most posh place either of us has ever been, the Ritz. We missed our chance to have afternon tea at the Ritz in London (the proper kind, with little pastries and sandwiches with the crusts cut off) as our British friends had recommended, so we thought we'd give the Paris one a try. We knew we couldn't afford a real meal at the restaurant in the Ritz, but we thought that afternoon tea in the Bar Vendôme or the Hemingway Bar (he drank enough at the Ritz to get a bar named after him!) would be more in our price range and would allow us to soak up lots of fancy atmosphere without paying a fortune for it. WRONG. Afternoon tea at the Paris Ritz is €67 per person. SIXTY SEVEN EUROS PER PERSON! 

The Ritz

Since bringing my own sandwiches wasn't really an option at the Ritz, we settled for a cup of tea for Johann and a hot chocolate for me. Johann very sweetly pressed me to order a cocktail, seeing as it was my birthday and all, but there wasn't a single alcoholic beverage to be had for less than €30 and I had to assure him that I just wouldn't be able to get thirty euros worth of enjoyment out of any one glass of anything, unless the glass was filled with gold coins or diamonds or something. Please. That's just ridiculous. As long as we're on the subject of "ridiculous:" His tea was €11 and my hot chocolate was €13. Of course, it was very good, very rich hot chocolate, and his tea was also lovely, served with two types of honey and a tea cozy that was nicer than our duvet cover... And it came with a plate of six insanely good sweets, citrus and chocolate mousse inside tiny white chocolate and milk chocolate cups. Still, at the end I took the monogrammed napkins as my souvenir to even things up a little. Now I know why Hemingway was always so damned broke in "A Moveable Feast."

Dinner at the Salle Pleyel Café

Johann has mad skills when it comes to getting great tickets, whether it's cheap airfare, first class seats on the high-speed train, sporting events or concerts; and this was no exception. THIRD ROW SEATS! We were fifteen feet away from Sting. The concert was held at the lovely Salle Pleyel, which has a restaurant where concert-goers can enjoy a pre-show dinner. We had dinner there (with more Champagne!) and then went to the show, which held me spellbound. His new work is very mellow, all ballads set to an otherworldly blend of instruments played by the musicians that packed the stage with him. He was called back for four encores and performed my favorite song, Ghost Story. I just can't remember the last time I was so blissed out. Merci beaucoup, Johann! More pictures are at right under "photos."

 

London Calling!

The Anchor Pub

When London calls, the answer is a resounding "yes!" My lovely husband surprised me by booking this three-day trip to London as part (yes, just part!) of my birthday present this year. We got the earliest flight possible on Saturday morning in order to maximize our time in the city of majesty. Our dear friend Leah, originally a New Yorker and now a three-year London veteran, made hotel arrangements for us. If you're ever there, I highly recommend the Premier Inn in Southwark. Not only is it just steps from the Thames and Borough Market, but its breakfasts are served next door at the Anchor Pub, where you can enjoy a traditional "full English" (a fry-up of two eggs, a slab of bacon, a sausage link, sliced tomatoes and mushroooms) in the cozy room overlooking the Thames. In fact, after dropping our luggage off at the hotel, this was the first thing we did. With its wood paneling, thick carpet and leather chairs, the breakfast isn't the only traditionally British aspect of The Anchor.

London calling!

At 11:00 our room was ready, so I took the opportunity to sneak in a little disco nap (you try getting up at 3:15 in the morning and then eating a 1200-calorie breakfast and see how alert you feel) while Johann spent an hour or so walking through Borough Market with Leah. Then the three of us met up with our friend Paul, who lives in our neighborhood in Provence but is originally from London, for some pints at the pub. The boys then departed for the Arsenal match, while the ever-generous Leah treated me to an afternoon at the Menier Chocolate Factory Theatre, where she volunteers as an usher and where shows have been known to go on to Broadway. We saw Sweet Charity, a musical based on the book by Neil Simon. It was an amazing show, and the unbelievable performances made the contrast between the very small theatre and the very big dance numbers all the more impressive.

Classic London Pub

Leah had a party to go to that evening, so Johann, Paul and I ate dinner at a noodle shop called Ragamama, then sampled some more of London's abundance of pubs, including The George, which used to be a carriage house and is one of the city's oldest watering holes. Paul also helpfully pointed out the difference between a pint at a pub and the Japanese beer we ordered at Ragamama. "This is not a pint," he said, pointing to the bottle of Asahi. "No, literally. A pint is 550 milliliters. This bottle is only 500 ml. That's only a 50 ml. difference, but it adds up over a lifetime. Work the percentages. That's ten percent they're stealing from you." Living in France, the three of us were unused to seeing heavyset women out on the town wearing scandalously skimpy clothing, and the sights in the pubs made for ample entertainment and ongoing commentary, including this gem from Paul: "Oh... Muffin tops. I thought you said 'mazel tov.' I wondered how you knew she was Jewish." 

Eggs Benedict at the Wolseley

We met up with Leah again the next day for brunch at the Wolseley. I had been craving Eggs Benedict and a Bloody Mary (things you just cannot get in France) and as swanky as it was there, we were all pleasantly surprised not to have spent a fortune when the bill came. And this was a good thing, because I needed all my funds for our next stop: Harrods (which we got to by double-decker bus, by the way). The windows were decorated for Christmas with a Wizard of Oz theme, complete with the Wicked Witch's ruby-slippered feet poking out from under the store. Leah and Johann patiently endured my constant distraction (Anya Hindmarch bags on sale! Smythson stationery! Jimmy Choo shoes!) on our way to see the Diana and Dodi shrine on the store's first floor. Harrods is owned by Dodi's father, who encased the Champagne flutes they were drinking from the night of their deaths in a glass pyramid and displayed them against a backdrop of candles and photos of the pair. It was a little surreal. 

Harrods

After a quick stop back at the hotel to drop off all my shopping bags, we were quickly off again on the Tube, where I'll admit we were immature enough to smirk at each other when the announcement came on about train service to "Cockfosters." Our stop was the Wembley Arena, though, where Johann had gotten us tickets to see... Drumroll, please... Eddie Izzard! What a show! Between the new material and the old favorites, he had us laughing so hard from beginning to end that our cheeks hurt when we left, barely making the last train back downtown at midnight. For a major world capitol, London rolls up the sidewalks pretty early.

Fish!

On our final day in London, we had a traditional fish 'n chips at the hip Southwark restaurant, "Fish!" followed by sticky toffee pudding with ice cream. We then strolled along the Thames, taking photos of Tower bridge and picking up a few last-minute souvenirs before making our way back to Stanstead for the trip home. What a birthday present! Merci mille fois, Johann, Leah and Paul! More pictures of our trip are at right under "Photos."