Libations & Explorations

  As the great Anthony Bourdain said, “The journey changes you”.  Notice he said ‘journey’ instead of ‘delicious meals’, or ‘sunsets’, or ‘beautiful experiences’. No, it’s the JOURNEY that changes you…and part of the journey is getting out of your comfort zone and doing things you don’t really want to do.   I landed at Charles de Gaul Airport at 6.30am, Saturday morning.  The flight had been a terrific First Class affair from JFK, and I was very excited to go spend the day in Paris.  I booked a hotel at the airport as I was flying out to Istanbul the next day. After dropping off my bags and changing my underwear, I fired up Google Maps to figure out my plan for the day.  I have been to Paris many times, but shockingly I have never seen the Eiffel Tower!  I always felt it was too touristy; but it was a winter day so I figured the crowds would be light. This is the moment disaster struck.  From my previous journeys I knew that getting to Paris from ...

(Absinthe in Avignon) French Drinking Culture As my good friends will tell you, I enjoy a good drink!  Other than that time in Rotterdam which all parties involved agreed to never speak of again; I rarely drink to any serious level of intoxication. Just enough to relax and enjoy myself. I also genuinely enjoy the taste of certain alcohols (and I only consume drinks I like the taste of).  You will never see me having beer (aka, cat piss). The past two weeks of living in France has shown me how shockingly puritan America is when it comes to alcohol.  Yes, the drinking age is 18 in France (21 in America), and yes you can buy hard liquor in just about any shop you can think of (NOT happening in Pennsylvania); but it goes much deeper than that. In the mornings, in France, you will see people at their local cafes having an espresso or two to start the day.  You will also see people having a glass of wine or a beer. Indeed, even the local indoor market in Avignon has a bar ...

A Politically Incorrect Review of Marseilles Over the years, I had heard that the French seaside city of Marseilles was know to be a bit ‘dodgy’.  Much of this comes from the zeitgeist, such as the film “The French Connection” which was based on a real heroin smuggling operation that ran from the 1930s through the 70s.  Unione Corse, the Corsican mafia that makes the Italian mob look like a bunch of cupcakes, ran copious amount of heroin from Southeast Asia to the United States and Canada via the port city of Marseilles.   Are these characterizations of Marseilles being a “Gotham City” of Europe valid in 2024? Well, like all stereotypes, there is an ounce (or two) of truth in them… I arrived in Marseilles via train from Avignon.  Full disclosure, Avignon is a very clean and quiet city (they have four homeless people and all of them are quite charming in their way); so that certainly influenced my opinion of Marseilles.  When I arrived, the train station was pack...

  I’m going to be ill… “OMG, look honey! They have New York hats, let’s get some so our friends back home will know we were in Fraaaaaaance…”, said the American tourist. Bloody hell, where do I even start? This utter tragedy happened at 10.32am, Central European Time, at a gift shop in Avignon, France.  I had gone in there to buy a cute bag I had seen for my groceries as I had left mine at home.  Now I wish I had just paid the few for a plastic bag at the Carrefour… To describe the perpetrators of this hate-crime against intellectual robustness, I think of the ‘Great White Shark’; massive beasts of the ocean that consume everything edible in sight.  I guarantee they both bitched about how small the plane seat was on the flight over… I know I shouldn’t let incidences like this annoy me; but, dear Lord how can you move past hearing something like this?  These people had children, so this idiocy has already been passed to the next generation.  Sacrebleu! I pro...

Avignon, France My first full day in France was a Sunday.  I had arrived in Avignon the previous evening via the SCNF “Train a Grande Vitesse” (high speed train) from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris.  The journey took three hours and was on-time quite pleasant (the French state-owned railways are not known for their punctuality). What really made me fall in love with French trains, however, was that there was a carriage for First Class that served wine… (I had booked a ‘Billet de Premiere Classe’ aka a First Class Ticket). The Bar-Car Sundays are sacred to the French.  To them, it is a day for only one thing: vegetating.  Work is to be avoided at all cost. Knowing this, I expected Avignon to be completely shut down on my first day.  However, this wasn’t the case.  True, most shops, all government buildings, and businesses were closed. But, the Carrefour was open (a French grocery store chain) as were a few restaurants and cafes.  Mostly, the establi...

Monaco (Canon P/Kodak Tmax400) I stood on the high-rise exterior deck of a rented apartment and looked out onto the Mediterranean Sea where a yacht was lazily sitting before the dawn sun.  I then looked down at the city below and realized; 'My God, I am in Monaco'. Not bad for someone going on six months of being unemployed...  Technically I wasn't IN Monaco, I was in Beausoleil, the French city that overlooks Monaco. I wasn't going to split hairs. As far as I am concerned, if you can step outside of your Airbnb and five minutes later be in the Casino Monte Carlo, you are staying in Monaco. Our 'ménage a trois of travelers' (Doina, Svetlana, and I) came in late the night before from Sanremo across the border in Italy.  We had a hilarious moment when Doina had to climb up the side of the apartment complex (she is very short) to retrieve the key fob for the parking garage.  It's always an adventure with us. We only stayed that night as we drove on to Nice the...