Lyon is a large city with museums, shopping, and a massive reputation for being the gastronomic destination in France. Frankly we had enjoyed so many wonderful meals in Paris, Toulouse, Albi, the best baguette and croissants possible in tiny Castres, surprising food in Le Puy-en-Velay, that we were probably food-fatigued by the time we got to Lyon.
Nonetheless, after completing our shopping quest for our daughter (a visit to Sezanne) I opened my phone and found a bouchon, Le Bouchon des Cordeliers, a few blocks away. Bouchons are traditional restaurants that evolved from mom-run home-style food served to working class people. They are now certified by the city and display this status on plaques posted outside.
Arrive early if you don’t have a reservation…was full within 30 minutesOeuf murette. They really know how to poach eggs. Smoked herring and potato saladAndouilletteQuenelle
The most traditional dishes are offered at every bouchon—quenelles (a delicate fish dumpling served in a crawfish sauce), smoked herring-potato salads, salade Lyonnaise, oeufs murette, Andoullette (tripe sausage), pumpkin soup, tarte aux pralines (a red pie made of local pralines)—we tried them all. Note that the salade Lyonnaise served as a first course (entree) is huge. That and a bowl of soup would have been sufficient!
We had a yummy and fun lunch, celebrating that we had achieved success at Sezanne for our daughter, and wandered back through the neighborhood to the Musee des Beaux Arts…no timed tickets like Paris, so we walked right in. Beautiful. We took the elevator to the top floor and zigzagged down to the ground floor. Not overwhelming like Musee d’Orsay in Paris and with a most entertaining collection. I discovered a new-to-me artist (Henri Lachieze-Rey). and now must track down a book of his work.
A moment after I said “Weird, no Matisse” I saw this Shirley Jaffe, “Sans titre (Little Matisse)”Henri Lachieze-Rey, the card playersHenri again. i love his thick paint. A grand buildingRenoir, one I had never seen, “The Guitar Player”Should be called “Happy Cat” but is titled Reflet de soleil by Joseph Bail
Our first morning we had been a little frustrated trying to find a boulangerie with coffee and seats, finally stopping in a tiny artisan bakery with fantastic baked goods and, as we discovered, typically horrid coffee. The next morning I found a large restaurant that opened at 7:30, and the Petit Dejeuner Formule was great except for the mediocre coffee. Shortly after leaving it started to rain and I missed a small step and fell onto my ankle bone in a (fortunately?) covered arcade. GRRRR! Naturally I kept walking/hobbling on it Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and through the Charles deGaulle airport Wednesday morning. (It is now Friday, am back home, still limping and taking ibuprofen.).
Teeny boulangerie but with seats insideCroissants and bugnols!€13 for all this at Maison Gloria sunday morning
Our only chance to see the Gallo-Roman museum was this day, Sunday, so after a painful bus ride back to the hotel to put my foot up with an ice bag we headed back to old, old Lyon for our last hit of Roman history. The route is up the funicular, included in our 72 hour public transportation pass (HIGHLY recommended—it is a bargain and covers all buses, trams, metro and the funicular) and a short walk to the museum which, in my injured state, seemed to take forever. Great museum! And it is built right next to the amphitheater, which we passed on due to my #@$& ankle. At one point I was looking at something and realized there were so many languages being spoken around me I had to move on to concentrate on what I was seeing.
We had a reservation at Bouchon Vieux Lyon, another racous food experience. It was so tiny we were only an inch separated from the next table, occupied by a lovely young man who is, of all things, a college Spanish teacher from Istanbul. We had a delightful Spanish-English conversation and traded contact information. After several hours of eating and drinking we made it back to the hotel and collapsed.
This part of Lyon is extremely hillyQuenelle, again! So good.
Monday we had a plan which was a bit constrained due to my ankle. Our first stop was at a pharmacie, where the exceedingly kind pharmacist fitted me for an ankle bandage that helped a lot. Our boulangerie destination was across the street, and it was delicious with good coffee! After we finished I went inside to tell them how good it was and I was writing a “revoir” with cinq etoiles! We had yet to explore old, old Lyon and it was raining pretty hard. We decided to try the private Musee Cinema et Miniature. It was fun! Even with lots of school groups, we enjoyed the rebuilt movie sets, movie props, matte paintings and miniatures. And it was small, 7 tiny floors in an ancient building, so not a lot of walking. When we got put it was pouring! We returned to the hotel for another round of ice-on-the-ankle and I looked for our last bouchon, which might have been our favorite, Bouchon Comptoir Brunet. I requested a reservation for 7, when it opened, and we hopped back on the bus. Yes, reservation accepted and we entered this cozy, hospitable spot for a bottle of beaujelais, oeufs murette, snails, herring salade…for my main I had veal kidneys (with, of course, scalloped potatoes) and David had a pork belly thing.
The next morning we got on the train back to Paris. Checked into the Holiday Inn Express, took the train back into Paris for a final meal at Au Pied du Cochon, and the next morning we were staggering through CDG airport and onto a really excellent United Polaris flight back home. Landed an hour early, had our first Global Entry passport control experience, and zoom we Lyfted home to ecstatic dogs and a nap!
We chose a stopover here mostly because it was a handy distance for a stop between Castres and Lyon. What a fortunate choice. We loved this place and had several exceptional food experiences. If you are seeking a not-very-touristy place away from the big cities check out Le Puy.
Okay, Le Puy-en-Velay is very, very nice. It is quite green, with nice gardens and welcoming parks, a river, and the dramatic steep needle-like hills topped with monuments and in one case a church. Why people insist on building in these virtually inaccessible spots…but the results are scenic in the extreme. We had booked an inexpensive hotel on the edge of the old, historic parts of the city which was great because we parked in the hotel lot for two days and walked everywhere. (Ibis Le Puy-en-Velay Centre—welcoming, inexpensive, perfectly situated).
As I wrote earlier, the drive drom Castres was mentally a bit harrowing due to seemingly endless, extremely rural countryside. I’ll add right here that the drive from Le Puy to Lyon was highway the entire way, which was actually a bit too easy. It is also less and less scenic the closer you get to Lyon so the entry to such a well known and loved city was meh, like driving into Chicago.
In April the city was uncrowded. There are always hikers passing through and some are there on a pilgrimage, but this is not such a destination that we were lost in groups of visitors. Everyone was cheerful and warm, and we even saw a side of the town that is, well, a bit bohemian and raucous when the wine is flowing. More on that below.
View from our budget hotel window. Quiet and picturesque WWI memorial and view of the town. Above the cathedral the protector of the city, Virgin Mary. This is as close as we got. Built at the end of the 5th century…part of the cathedral complex
Wandering the historic areas is a darned delightful way to pass a few hours. You cannot really get lost…it is not that big…and the architecture, the hills, the churches tucked here and there are begging to be photographed. We tried to restrain ourselves, sort of.
We saw this painting at the Crozatier…hey, that’s the street where we had dinner!The remains of the gate pictured to the leftThr walk to the museum was theough this delightful park
We spent several hours in the Musee Crozatier which, like the Toulouse-Lautrec museum in Albi, closed from 12:30-2:00. An hour plus in the morning, a walk to a highly-rated restaurant for lunch, then back for a few hours more. One cool thing we had not experienced before…an animated film about the history of the museum. Who was Crozatier? Why this collection? How has the building changed over time? We realized we didn’t know boo about most of the gazillion museums we have visited in the US and elsewhere. The collection is mostly art with some local history and a natural history floor which had, like the Toulouse museum, two great animations running continuously about the volcanic evolution of the area over millions of years. We have not seen animations like this in US museums and why not? They are fascinating.
A special exhibit at the Crozatier was the history of lace-making for which the city was known for a long time. Cool! Made me sad that lace coasters and curtains are so out of style.
We were lucky to happen upon a mass in progress at the cathedral, where the choir and members were singing—the acoustics of the room made my chest vibrate. It was beautiful.
Food adventures
We had done no research on Le Puy before arriving so I did followed my usual fast search for restaurants on google maps. In general the reviews there are reliable, though occasionally there is an obvious fake, like one in Lyon where a newish restaurant out in the Cite Internationale (giant but attractive offices, the Crown Plaza where we were staying, Interpol headquarters—well out of the city proper though fortunately very quickly accessible by bus) the review started “As I was wandering the streets of Lyon…”. No way. Anyway, back to using google maps to ID good places to eat—this worked very well in Le Puy and we had two memorable experiences.
Being in this city almost by accident, in early spring, we had no idea what the food scene could be, but we were a few blocks from the historic, and fairly lively, narrow streets, one of which turned out to be our destination for coffee and croissants each morning and our memorable dinners. And the best lunch I could have imagined—at a place that had the weird name Le Grand Bowl d’air which seems a play on the phrase “grand air” for fresh air, and indeed the tastes and ingredients were as fresh as could be.
In our experience it is always preferable to show up at lunch time when you are concerned you won’t get a table for dinner. And this particular place did not have online reservations. I am fairly confident of my French in person, but phone calls are a different story. When the Crozatier museum closed for lunch we decided to make the 15 minute walk back to “our street” and take a chance we could get a table. Success was ours, and what a super place. Small of course, perhaps 9 tables, with a very small patio that was closed on this cool day. The server/manager moved balletically among the tables, all full, keeping everyone happy. When at the end of the meal I told him it was an “experience tres genial” he pointed to the woman in the tiny open kitchen, the only other person working, and asked me to tell her what I just said. “It’s all her.” She smiled, I repeated, and I felt so great!
This was oeuf parfait over the local lentils. I ate it too quickly! Oeuf parfait, perfect egg, is a soft boiled egg. Tender marinated chicken, a slab of potatoes, scattered black rice, and the freshest, most delectable sauce.A modern take on boeuf bourguignon, again with scalloped potatoes and a rich stir in sauce.
We skipped the wine at lunch because, frankly, we had really overdone it the night before. We had shown up without a reservation about fifteen minutes before 7, opening time, and the door was open and the lights were on so I walked in to ask if we could possibly eat right at 7 without a reservation. This place, named Entrez les Artistes!!!, was well reviewed, very small, a red room hung with lines of white underclothes, linens, and such as if we were under the clotheslines in a tiny house. The cook/owner came out of the kitchen in the back, said sure we could eat and when I said we would be back at 7 she nodded and shrugged, suit yourself. We left and returned at 7 to the empty room, overflowing within a half hour.
The food was homey and delicious and the place was so full we were now crowded against the other patrons. We had drunk two “pots” of red wine and conversation was loud and a little crazy. We were now sharing a table with an American couple, a retired finance guy, the type who plays at being condescending and a little rude to his wife, a special ed teacher on sabbatical. The room got a bit louder, and now I had turned to talk to the artsy looking fellow behind me whom I had heard speaking Spanish—but he was very, very French and wanted to talk about Trump which I was happy to do in French. The cook/owner (who had literally snorted a super-French Trump when we said we were from California) came out of the kitchen every few minutes, pulled up a chair and talked with her customers, went out the front door to have a smoke with other friends passing by, came through to see who needed what, then back into the kitchen. When we left the not-Spanish guy was outside and he showed us the doorway to his apartment—just a block or so away on a side street—so we could see the year it was built, 1643. “My American friend was delighted that my building is older than her country!”
We sat down having no idea what we were about to experience at Entrez Les Artists!!!, the name of this tiny place. One pot of wine in and we had table mates.
This was a restaurant experience I cannot imagine having in the US. Great all the way around. So great David insisted we go back for our last meal before leaving Friday, May 1, to drive to Lyon. We walked in at 7, sat down, and this night something or other was going on—friends kept wandering in, crowding the sort of bar in front of the kitchen, popping champagne and getting louder and more raucous by the minute. When David asked me what the plat du jour was, I asked the cook, who led me into the kitchen to see it simmering on the stove. What a place. We had another great meal (I maintained my record of having boeuf tartare in every city if possible), wandered out, and never did figure out just what was going on!
May 1, Introduction to Lyon
We had checked the night before, and “our” boulangerie would be open on May 1 so, after confirming that gas stations would be open that day as well (self-service only), went to have coffee and a croissant. As we sat having our petit dejeuner, the queue grew until it was out the door, all hikers, most with backpacks, who were passing through on cross country hikes or the pilgrimage, probably for the 3 day weekend.
They take Labor Day very seriously in France. If you want your restaurant or store to be open you must pay employees double time. Hence things like hotels are open, and some restaurants, small ones with we assume family member workers. We decided to walk around town, explore more of the historic streets and up near the cathedral and other high spots, dawdling until noon since the drive to Lyon would be only about two hours. As we drifted back to the hotel we saw five or six restaurants opening, so we figured we would find a place to stop and eat en route to Lyon.
Well, nope, that was not to be. We just kept going. The drive was pretty boring, the outskirts of Lyon uninspiring. We had decided on the Crown Plaza, even though it appeared to be out of the way, because 1) it was free with our points and 2) it backed up on a big park.
Multiple buses stop right across the patio, so getting around the city was simple. The hotel itself is corporate. The staff is very friendly. Our room was huge. If we were to stay there again, unlikely, we would insist on a high floor on the street side. On the patio side the noise and lights made it mandatory we keep the window closed…and France is strict about not allowing air conditioning until late spring. If only we had asked for a fan! (We recently discovered hotels have fans! And they bring them right to your room! We even got one at the Holiday Inn Express at the airport. Travel tip of the year!!! If you want to sleep cool, Ask For A Fan!!)
So we arrived at the hotel around 2 to drop off our luggage. The young guy at the desk was brusque and pessimistic we could return our car given the holiday, but we were confident and set out for the downtown Sixt location. Closed. I was in a lane with (fortunately very light) traffic, and David had gotten out to see what the deal was. Cars came up behind me, I had to drive away, and realized I was in a part of the city where almost all the streets are one way…and in two minutes I am many blocks away. I work my way back…David is calling Sixt for help, I am now desperate to return this car and be done with urban parking lots and am fearful I will have to drive back to the hotel. And we have not eaten since a coffee and croissant five hours earlier.
David got a rapid fire AI-generated auto attendant at Sixt, talking so fast it was unintelligible. Argh! MY turn to give it a try and managed to get past the auto attendant (yes, it was the fastest and most detailed directions for returning the car) but when I said I need those in writing miraculously I was connected to a live, helpful person. He agrees to send me instructions in an email to David’s address and tells me to program the address of the drop off parking lot into my phone. He PROMISES I will get the email. And, I do. And, we both see that these same very detailed instructions were sent to David the day before. Of course we aren’t on top of our email while traveling, so David didn’t see it. All this insanity could have been avoided…but now we cannot find the entrance to the underground parking lot. David got out, wandered around this block-sized plaza while I flagged down a passerby (“I just moved here yesterday, I didn’t even know there was a parking lot here”) and at last we find it, drop the keys, video the car, and I check Claude re metro and buses. “Bad news, they do not run on May 1.”
Happy mob scene. This is the park that backs up to our hotel.
Hungry but finally car-free we do the only thing we can and walk back to the hotel. It wasn’t bad! The day was gorgeous, the park adjacent to the hotel was full of families, and though we were super hungry we were confident we could eat at the hotel, which we did. Well, that is after checking in to find out the poor desk guy had been dealing with no working customer elevators since 9 that morning. Friday, May 1…when there are no workers making service calls. Seven floors. Only working elevator was the freight elevator…the sweet and exhausted desk guy walks us through the kitchen, around corners…and we are settled in the room. We go down, have an edible meal, and go to bed. Next day everything was working and we began to explore Lyon.
And now we leave the exquisite city of Albi and begin making our way to Castres, Le Puy, Lyon…and home.
We enjoyed Toulouse so much that I was a little sad when we arrived n Albi Saturday afternoon. It was really hard to part with daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter after a simply terrific week. Our granddaughter was a delight—of course—and always entertaining, son-in-law a master at navigation in addition to being a great guy, having alone time with my daughter as we wandered window-shopping,…now we had to learn again to enjoy a new city, just the two of us.
We checked into the Mercure Albi Rives du Tarn, a lovely big room, a view of the river, and a somewhat corporate upscale place. None of the warm, informal vibes of the Hotel Joke in Paris or the Hotel Albert 1er in Toulouse. (These are unfair comparisons especially since the Hotel Albert may be my favorite hotel of all time.)
Our hotel is across the river nearest to the bridge
So we were a little down until we walked across the river and into the old city…oh so old city..of Albi. It is as lovely as advertised, almost everything built of red brick, ancient houses from the 1400’s, twisty streets and alleys. And again, a plethora of great cafes, restaurants, boulangeries. We were back in a good mood by the end of the afternoon.
Albi really is indescribably beautiful. The Toulouse-Lautrec museum is great! We spent 3-4 hours there and were grateful they close for lunch so we could sit a while and refresh ourselves, then dive back in.
Entrance to museumDress-up for kids because of circus posters in temp exhibitLautrec painted this at age 17Inside and out so beautiful
I did get a feeling that the vibe is not as warm as Paris or Toulouse, but maybe not having our family with us was the cause of that. Still, “Bonjour” and “Merci” worked the same magic. I will miss speaking French!
Lousy for iPhone photos…it is simply too tall.
On our last full day after touring the Cathedral de Sainte Cecille, the largest brick structure in the world (!) we sat down at what we expected to be a routine (albeit very French) lunch at L’esprit Du Moulin. It was right out of a movie. I had a “menu” (fixed price for 3 courses) for €24.50 that had five or six choices for entree (appetizer), plat (main dish) and dessert. It was hard to choose! We decided on no wine. I had soupe de poisson (fish soup), heavenly, and a onglet de veau avec sauce de cepes (veal something, akin to hanger steak, with mushroom sauce). Tarte tatin, usually a miniature apple pie (sort of) seemed doable but was two types of chantilly (whipped creme), a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and the tarte. And a praline cookie. By the time I got to dessert I could barely eat a bite…and the no wine decision was undermined when, after a foursome departed from the next table the waiter, without a word, brought over a huge wine glass and filled it halfway…the remainder of the wine the foursome had left. Delicious and so fun and so French. David had an enormous (truly) beautiful salad with sliced duck gizzards scattered through and some other duck (breast?) pieces, with a small slice of bread topped with foie gras about 1/2 an inch thick, cassoulet, and a similarly overwhelming dessert. We were happy to sit for an hour and a half or so, soaking in the atmosphere and trying to consume this enormous meal.
Our morning of departure to Castres we went back to the wonderful Maison Janin Artisan Boulanger for coffee and croissants. I asked her if they used commercial yeast..of course not, they maintain their own starter. Stupid question!
We drove to Castres, enjoyed the Goya Museum (Spanish artists only, and three Goyas), now looking for supper. Off tomorrow to Le Puy, a long drive through unknown territory!
We left Paris by train, high speed to Bordeaux and then a bit of a crawl to Toulouse. Almost five hours all told, but the five of us were physically and mentally tired and thus it was nice to just sit, each in our own heads. Granddaughter watched her ipad with headphones, Mark read, I wrote about Paris and then veg’d out…the trip went quickly. Toulouse was thankfully the end of the line so we had plenty of time to gather up luggage. We had been worried about the walk to the hotel, fearing Toulouse late afternoon would be hot, but walking on the shady side for 20 minutes was pleasant and eased us into this wonderful, lovely, friendly city. The hotel was on a short street off one of the main streets of the historic center, and we were greeted by the always friendly and helpful staff.
We ate so much each night. Boullion Capitole our first night was so much fun with bustling charming servers and great food that we knew we were going to like this city. Stayed four nights, hated to leave. And to top it off, probably my favorite hotel ever. Comfy rooms, good air conditioning, fabulous breakfast. Hotel Albert 1er, we love you.
Wonderful hotel. That is a part of the breakfast buffet…included fresh squeezed OJ at a do-it-yourself machine and very good coffee.
What’s “All True?” That Toulouse is the easier, less expensive alternative to Paris, as often advertised. The prices were about 20-30% cheaper than Paris. The city is sooo pretty: red brick buildings dominate, streets are clean, walking everywhere was a pleasure, every clerk, wait person…to the woman security guard at the city hall…was smiling, friendly, helpful. Lots of playgrounds made granddaughter extremely happy. One in a plaza otherwise filled with outdoor seating for the surrounding restaurants, one next to the tourist office, one in a large park where the Japanese garden is, one we didn’t have time to find next to the Toulouse Musee. This childtren’s natural history museum enchanted granddaughter—her mother said she had never been so engrossed by minerals, butterflies, taxidermied animals, even the animation of the earth’s landmasses forming and reforming which she watched twice, then as we were getting ready to leave she asked to go back and watch it again, this time wiping a tear and hugging her mom—“the music makes me sad.” Gosh I love them so much.
We were to leave on Saturday. For our last full day we got out of the city by renting a car and driving an hour or so south into the foothills of the Pyrenees to a small town that had a Friday market. David and I had so enjoyed these last time we were in France so I really wanted my daughter to experience one. The only bad part was getting the rental car out of the horrid parking lot in Toulouse!
This town, Foix, is magical and the market was a blast. We arrived around 10, and stayed several hours after the market ended just hanging out enjoying our lunch purchases (the bread! The cheese! The olives!!) and letting granddaughter enjoy the playground smack in the center of town. The scenery is all greenery, flowers, the river, Pyrenees in the distance. A great day.
We returned to Toulouse and ate a magnificent dinner at the Maison du Cassoulet. Yup, we all had cassoulet and a wine suggested by the server which will live in my memory forever.
Only down moment was saying goodbye to daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. Next morning they left for Spain and we drove to Albi.
It was delightful to be back in Paris, especially because we met our daughter, son-in-law, and almost five year old granddaughter to share the city with. Short version—we ate, we rode the metro, we went sightseeing, we walked, and we ate some more.
I highly recommend our hotel, one of the local chain Astotels. This time we stayed at Hotel Joke, a little higher up in Montmartre than our last visit at Hotel Joyce. Comfortable, welcoming, convenient, snacks out in the afternoon into the evening, big bowls of apples, all part of their services. Our room was huge and had cross ventilation which was great in the pre-air-conditioning month of April.
We were close to several metro stops and we took full advantage of them. Our granddaughter LOVED the metro—the speed thrilled her. On our second day we inadvertently got separated—the doors closed before I could get on, and David was in a different car from the kids—but of course the next train came in a minute, perhaps two minutes, and our cell phones worked fine so we were back together in no time.
This sudden separation made a huge impression on granddaughter, who thereafter was our shepherd, making sure we all got on and off together without incident. She would run back and forth to her grandpapa to tell him how many more stops until we got off, and took his hand to lead him off and on the train. So sweet and so mature of her…and she loved this new responsibility.
Uniquely for us we visited no museums, just wandered and took it all in. I had made dinner reservations for 3 of the nights so we would not have to make decisions and this was a hit. Highly recommended: Au Bord Des Copains in Montmartre, Caboulot in Montmartre, and our last night we said goodbye to Paris with a leisurely and wonderful dinner at Vins Des Pyrenees. Granddaughter ate everything and then some (chewed on the bones from her father’s confit de canard) and was goofily well behaved and polite. Her sweet, soft “bonjour” and “merci” delighted every adult we met.
Now we are en route to Toulouse, way south, on a high speed train. In a few days we will part with our family as they go to the Spanish coast and Barcelona, while David and I spend a quiet weekend in Albi and then meander to Lyon, a night at the airport in Paris, and, alas, home to San Francisco.
Burgers, salads, galettes, madeleines…food in Paris is delightful.A beautiful few days of perfect weather for enjoying the essence of Paris.
After four hours at the archeological museum we felt a bit over-prepared for our visit to Pompeii. Assuming we’d be well acclimated to Italy, over any jet lag, and sleeping well we had booked a 9am start for a 3 hour tour with a professional archeologist as our guide. This meant getting up quite early, hopping the Metro to Garibaldi Piazza and station, finding the local Circumvesuviana train to Pompeii, and amazingly everything went perfectly. We even made a friend on the train, an American now living in Portugal, in Naples for a conference and winding up her stay with a trip to Pompeii. She now helps people relocate to Europe. I have her card in case, well, you know.
The first two hours of the tour were in a group of about 12; the last hour, to the Villa dei Misteri, a relatively recent excavation outside the walls of Pompeii, was just us and a very nice couple, young men from Mexico who were so totally engaged I asked if they were archeology students. No, just fanatics like us.
Note the little white stones between the paving rocks, which are dark gray. They are pieces of marble which reflected moonlight to help visitors find their wayThe large forum near the main gate; Vesuvius in the background (“Don’t worry, she is sleeping.”)Near the forum, another public space
We have seen a few documentaries about Pompeii and Roman history in general, so I wondered how much we would still have to learn and enjoy. Answer: A LOT! As I looked over the photos when we returned to Napoli I was again overwhelmed and incredibly happy we went there. It is transformative to walk on the same volcanic rock streets that the Romans walked, gaze at the same frescoes, examine the same mosaics, wander through houses that we now know so much about thanks to the archeologists…Just a wow experience in every way.
The excavation of Pompeii began in the 1740’s on the order of the regional king but excavation by an archeologist wasn’t begun until 1910; our guide rued what had been haphazard and destructive up to then. Our guide showed us where she had most recently been working—the cemetery outside the city walls. The specific spot she showed us was unremarkable, just grass and wildflowers, a reminder that every bit of this part of Italy especially still hides multiple eras underground. Unimaginable.
Many layers of construction—stones covered by bricksA temple with two stories of columns still standingThe criss-cross on the wall means it was built by Romans, not prior occupants
What was most remarkable to me is how much archeologists know about the life in Pompeii. An example is the identification of political life and even which houses politicians/officials lived in. If there’s a bench outside next to the entrance, it was there for clients of the official to sit waiting for an appointment. The purchase of votes was legal, so officials and aspiring officials provided favors or services in return for the client’s support. A particular house we were able to walk through (usually closed to the public but open occasionally to protect the interior frescoes) has what looks like a bench in front (a large rectangular stone) but archeologists know it was part of a street repair that had been moved out of the way. Speaking of which, the eruption was in 79AD, following a severe earthquake in 62AD. Repairs from the significant earthquake damage were still underway when Vesuvius erupted. Think of the wrangling over repairs and expenses, then boom.
We even saw a replanted garden in the center atrium of a house that our guide said was exactly the original garden…they analyzed the remains of the roots and were able to identify the shrubs.
Tried to take it all in! It was so lovely and strange and somewhat sadThe barriers at the end of the street (like we use now) to keep carts and animals out of the forum which was a marketplace so animals not welcomeEntry to a large house. Every house had the same plan, smaller or bigger depending on the wealth of the family
It is believed the city had 20,000 people, but remains of only 9,000 are evident because the wealthy had a little time to get out. The terrifying last day/hours are difficult to imagine; death was by suffocation which took about 15 minutes. Some of the wealthy likely fled to Herculaneum, which was also destroyed but a day or two later. Also, the “bodies” you’ve probably seen are plaster casts; when a cavity was found that was suspected to have been left by human remains, plaster was poured in to reveal the outlines of the remains.
A bakery—oven in the rear, flour grinding stones along the leftBeware of dog mosaic at the entrance to a large homeJust a beautiful street.A huge cemetery plot for a celebrated woman paid for by the city.Frescoes still extant in the Villa dei MisteriA small section of a fresco that surrounds the room illustrating the woman of the house as a bride; vivid and gorgeous
Everything we saw was the result of excavation and some shoring up of dangerous walls except the large amphitheater. It has been rebuilt because events are held there, such as Madonna’s recent birthday concert. Excavation continues, probably forever as our guide said, “we archeologists are very slow.” Thankful for that.
The symbol on the stone in the center points to a brothel. Many visitors (sailors and traders) didn’t speak LatinFountains place around the city—some sponsored by wealthy (noted on the fountain!)Fresco over the doorway of a prostitute’s room advertising what she offers.
After the long and frankly tiring tour, physically and mentally, we walked back into the town of Pompei for a perfect lunch (antipasto della casa) and a walk back to the train station.
The train back to Garibaldi was late and packed, but the windows were open and the air was breezy. Everyone around was friendly, lots of impromptu conversations. Then the train began to slow, many stops skipped, then we stopped. This is a very old train more like an ancient metro than a train—no announcements, no displays of stops upcoming (you had to read the station sign…if possible… to see where you were). We were now stopped 4 stations from Garibaldi. Finally the doors opened. No information was forthcoming. A few people stepped off in search of updates—the train was broken, would take a few hours to fix. No buses, no alternate routes on google; everyone had a phone out looking for solutions. We got off the train and walked up to street level.
In spite of David’s chronic aversion to paying “extra” for a taxi I opened the Freenow app (Lyft in Europe) and watched the repeated “Looking for a driver; high demand” flash by over and over. We began to despair. A woman with whom I had strategized on the train came over to ask what app I was using—she had Bolt and it was not working. Chantelle is from Malta, on vacation before starting a new job; we shared the ride that finally came and Chantelle and I talked and exchanged information all the way back to Garibaldi. She even had a restaurant suggestion for Toulouse!
We still had time to lie down for a bit before our dinner reservation at la Taverna a Santa Chiara, which was so good. A tiny place where we watched the owners turn away walk-ins with “Maybe after 9?” We ate cheese and bread and shared an order of the local pasta and potatoes (see picture) which I must make at home it was so yummy. We walked back to Gioia Toledo and collapsed. What a day.
Wish we had had a map of the cheeses; they were all deliciousOh, this pasta was incredibly deliciousEn route back to our roomLots of people out as usual in Italy (and France and Spain…)
We arrived in Naples via il treno from Rome Sunday afternoon. Thank goodness we had booked a taxi to get to Roma Termini, because there was a marathon underway and all the buses were delayed, rerouted, etc. The driver told us there is a marathon about once a month. That would have been nerve-wracking!
The train was a low-cost local, the ride was two hours, and it was extremely comfortable. We bought sandwiches in the terminal and the table between our seats was ample. And because we had booked ahead, the fare was about $10/each. All good!!
I do not recommend arriving in Naples on a Sunday without a clear understanding of the transportation system, as, unusually, google maps gave us terrible directions. The first and seemingly simplest was to take the bus. We wandered a bit, had to ask a few people, but found the bus stop. In Rome you pay for buses and trams with a credit card and just ping the device on board. Faulty assumption that Naples would be the same. I asked a woman how to pay for the bus, and after a spirited discussion among the group waiting, the answer was to buy a ticket first—not available on board. Where? Any tabacchi, small stands that are everywhere selling cigarettes and sundries. Open on Sunday in the surroundings of the Garibaldi station? Nope. Second option in google maps—the metro (subway). Directions were to go to MET, walk 8 minutes to Line 2, ride to another stop, transfer to Line 1, get off at Toledo. I asked 3 or 4 people in the station what/where is MET. No one knew. We looked around for a ticket machine, found one, it refused to take any of our cards, and a nice young man (from Brazil, spoke a little English and Spanish, thank goodness) helped us get our tickets. We were hot and tired and relieved that we were on our way at last. We walked around a corner where a transit guard was checking people going through—helping as necessary. I showed him the directions on google. Yes, yes, he said, Line 2, go one stop to Museo, change to Toledo. Great, sounds easy. Alas this wasn’t true—there are only two metro lines in Naples and we were already on Line 1…and we had to ride only a few stops before we saw “Toledo” coming up. Get off here? I asked the two tattooed twenty sometimes sitting next to us. They advised yes, get off. So we did. After two very long escalators (think Dupont Circle in D.C.) and two staircases, we trudged out onto the street and found the Toledo stop is literally in front of the alley where the door to our B&B is. So much running around and fuss for such a simple trip.
Note: the metro is so very deep because of all the buried Greek and Roman streets, requiring public works to keep digging past all of that ancient stuff.
Our B&B is fine…pretty modern, slightly off kilter as Italian places seem to be (loose screws on towel bars, that sort of thing), and I had the instructions to get in. A code at the front door, an elevator that operates only with a €20 coin and is so tiny the two of us with luggage were squeezed into a comical contortion, go to floor 4…elevator labors up and stops on 3. We were rather desperate to get out so did, and yup, we were on floor 4. (We should have known this…ground floors in Europe are floor 0.). A 7 digit code to open the door and everything we needed was on the desk inside. Big room! Good air conditioning! Comfy bed!
We are staying in the recommended Spanish Quarter, the old part of the city, on Via Toledo, a major commercial street that is a pretty constant roar of traffic and motorcycles, honking and beeping as pedestrians weave through intersections while motorcycles and cars weave around them. It is semi-organized bedlam. The sidewalks are especially uneven as are the streets, so walking you must look down and around you at the same time. It’s rather exciting once you get the hang of it. We saw no crashes, no fallen pedestrians, so it all seems to work. Courage required, however.
Our room has a balcony looking out on Via Toledo
We had no dinner plan so just wandered the streets behind our B&B, getting hungrier and a little confused. We let ourselves be hawked into one of the gazillion restaurants (it had pretty good reviews) and collapsed at a table on the street and ordered wine and alici fritti and calamari fritti. Delicious. Then, too tired to go looking further for a proper dinner, and a bit, uh, relaxed, we ordered pasta. It was all so good…and we toddled back to our rooms to collapse.
Fried anchovies, so freshNever had fried calamari like this!Pasta with seafood as good as it looks. The pasta is specific to Napoli, like a super thick soaghettiSpaghetti con vongole…even after exchanging plates we couldn’t finish.
We started our day with pastry and coffee, as usual in Europe. Our B&B delivers breakfast via a coupon for a hot drink and a croissant at a nearby bakery/cafe, a nice morning routine that gets you up and moving. We tend to find a “regular” bakery with coffee whenever we are staying somewhere for more than 2 days so this fit perfectly for us. Perfetto.
We knew Thursday would be tiring, even grueling, as we had booked a 3 hour tour of the Coliseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum. In retrospect we should have conserved our energy before the 2pm start; instead we walked the mile uphill and back to the main train station in order to, we hoped, get tickets to Orvieto. We have been there before, and really loved it, and a day trip seemed perfect for our free day (free meaning no tours booked) Saturday. David and I had each spent an hour or two online trying to buy tickets but nothing seemed to work. In theory Orvieto is an hour and fifteen minutes away, touted as the best day trip from Rome. However, every train was at least two hours and we couldn’t find a feasible return booking at all. Well, surely the humans at Roma Termini would be able to help us. Alas, it was not to be…she found us an outbound that was two hours long, but the only, the ONLY return was to leave an hour after we arrived and would take two changes and 9 hours. What? “Construction,” she explained.
We walked next door to the Mercado Centrale, a pretty cool, modern food hall where I was happy to find I could get a “trapizzino,” a new fast food that is genius—foccacia cut into triangle, slit, into which you can have various traditional Italian foods such as eggplant parmigiano, chicken, and, what I chose, lingua in salsa verde. Delicious and, for once, not too much food. Our experiences with panini were disappointing. Way too big, and really not that good. Get a trapizzino if you can find it— 6 euro and perfetto.
Here are some more pictures of food we ate this week.
Yes, it was yummy.Fried artichoke—deliciousPolpetto with pasta (spaghetti with meatballs)Italian breakfast—coffee and pastryPanini that WAS good at AV in centro historico—“vegeteriana 1” but SO big I could eat about 1/2.
We finished lunch and walked down, down to the Coliseum. There were mobs of people on an April Friday. We cannot imagine what it is like in high season when it is hot. The tour started at the Coliseum where we spent the first 90 minutes. Our guide, Italian, was at times hard to understand but I appreciated her approach. Basically what went on here was a horror, accepted entertainment of murder, animal cruelty, and mayhem. “Little children attended, sitting on mother’s lap watching people kill each other—in battle, or in response to the emperor’s decision or sometimes the decision of the crowd. Kill him slowly! Kill him quickly!” Horrific and probably contributed to the continuation of a bloodthirsty culture that persisted for hundreds of years.
Next we walked up to the top of Palatine hill. It’s not a long walk but boy were we tired so it felt a slog. But well worth it…a beautiful space with stunning views.
The forum, en route to our tourThe sound of road construction is “chink chink” as they tap pavers into placeColiseum exteriorWe had been to the large coliseum in Nimes…dwarfed by RomePalatine HillView from Palatine HillPalatine HillA section of the forum—ancient Rome’s shopping center
We were saturated with sights and sounds and exhausted by all the walking (totaled 5 miles this day) and almost missed our tram stop at our B&B.
Saturday is yet unplanned—but we will have time to do laundry and chill out a bit before we head to Naples.
Last day—and hotel transfer day as we had an early morning flight back to SFO from Charles deGaulle airport. We knew trying to get there on time would be stressful day of, so David had booked a night at the Hilton Express. What a lovely hotel! There is a kind of courtyard area between all the onsite hotels with a teeny green park and very respectable playground which I imagine could be a life saver for families traveling with smaller kids.
Our plan worked just fine. We took an Uber to the hotel right after breakfast, observed rush hour would have been impossible if we weren’t a day early, checked in—our room was ready—and then took the B train back into Paris which dropped us a block away from our last museum, the Musee de Liberation of Paris. Fascinating and sad—this was not the end of the war and the destruction and sheer horror of being occupied by a fascist army was difficult to absorb. Highly recommended if you are able to manage it emotionally.
We got on the Metro and headed to Au Pied Du Cochon for our last big meal in France. It was a fitting end…and my bonus was we were a few doors down from the enormous kitchenware store E. Dehillerin and I actually had a few things I needed. Plus one impulse item, the square bread pan with the slide on lid for making certain breads and other fun foods. We got back on the B train in the midst of rush hour and some train system problems, but after three trains one arrived with “room” and we squeezed in…back to CDG and our last night in the Holiday Inn Express.
Interior of Au Pied de CochonRazor clams entreeMarrow entreeBoeuf fondant–didn’t know what fondant was but probably the best beef stew ever.Profiteroles for dessertYeah, profiteroles were good.A little meringue for a last biteInterior of E.Dehillerin is somewhat intimidating
I have been so looking forward to Monday…even though it’s almost our last day, this was the day for my baking class!! I am a sourdough baker and for special occasions I often make baguettes (have to eat them the day they’re baked so you need enough people to accomplish that). After umpteen youtube videos and cookbooks I have still struggled to shape them–they have a tendency to snap back instead of remaining baguette shaped. So this class was eagerly anticipated–a class on baguettes (mostly) and shaping croissants at a master bakery with a master baker. There were only five of us in the class, and yes, it was wonderful.
This baker is very, intensely opinionated, which was so helpful, and he explained to me that keeping the baguette dough chilled right up to the point you are shaping is the secret. And yes, it works!
Poetry in motionHe demonstrated many ways to shape dough and have funThere’s the baby’s bottom test, and…
While I was in class David took a walk (the class was 2 1/2 hours), during which our cell connection (which the eSim uses) disappeared! All of a sudden we had no google maps or directions, and we were in an unfamiliar neighborhood. However, this was day 9 of our trip and we knew a few things–like a bus that goes to Gare du Nord would connect us with a bus that goes to our hotel. So we hopped on, had a nice ride, and were back to hotel home in 45 minutes (rush hour). We felt so smart! The cell network clicked back on that evening and all was well.
Inescapably Rational 