The Great European Travel Disaster of 2009

It is not a good time for European travel. The Eurostar has stopped service indefinitely, other rail companies are experiencing major delays, roads are unplowed, accidents abound, and flights now come with many hours spent waiting at the airport. It seems the sudden cold snap followed by decent snowfall has caught a lot of the continent by surprise, upending the holiday plans of thousands of travelers. Add to that the various strikes or threats of strikes that are affecting transportation networks and you've got one big end-of-the-year mess that seems to have left no previously perfectly-timed itinerary untouched.

My sister and I got our own taste of The Great European Travel Disaster of 2009 this weekend. It started with a train reservation on Belgian rail line, Thalys, that was set to leave Brussels' Gare du Midi at 8:50am Saturday morning. Delay after delay found us leaving approximately 20 mintues behind schedule. Not bad, but not ideal either. Unfortunately, it was only a harbinger of things to come. As we kept an eye on the developing Eurostar story and unchanging weather forecasts, we hoped our return to Brussels would not be affected. But upon arrival at Amstedam Centraal Station we quickly heard rumors of no trains coming in and no trains going out. A frantic hour later we somehow managed to learn that our train would be leaving shortly from platform 11a. Running through the station and up to the platform, dragging bags and fellow passengers we passed information to mid-stride, we found our seats and thanked our lucky stars.

The biggest problem we discovered when trying to get back to Brussels was a lack of accurate information. At the Amsterdam station all of the information signs read "no information currently available." Everyone we talked to said "No Thalys." No Thalys right now, or ever? Turns out, it was only delayed by about 40 minutes, a hiccup that should not have caused the uncertainty and panic we witnessed and felt. But without information, the imagination runs wild, usually to the worst-case scenario. Our train had problems on the tracks, and some passengers had to stand for lack of seats, but we finally made it to Brussels, albeit two hours behind schedule. Our next train ride is set for tomorrow, on the Thalys from Brussels to Paris. We're crossing our fingers.

Let it Snow

Airport cancellations, slippery roads, unshoveled sidewalks. Brussels obviously doesn't know how to deal with a little snowstorm. Thankfully, my sister arrived just before the skies opened up, so we spent the day nice and warm in my apartment, catching up over cups of tea and away from the madness. Later in the afternoon we ventured out on foot to enjoy the beauty of a European city under a blanket of snow.

Warning Sign

The first thing I thought when I saw this little guy was, "How cute! He looks like he's ice skating!"

The second thing I thought was, "Wait. It's going to get cold enough in Brussels for this lake to freeze over?"

Merde.

An Ice Cream for All Seasons

We're not exactly coming up on the traditional ice cream season here in Brussels. Leaves are falling, the wind is getting brisker, and Daylight Savings Time just ended, plunging us into total darkness before the evening commute gets us home. Ugh. Most people probably want to curl up with a cup of hot cocoa more than a pint of vanilla. But maybe that's just because we Bruxellois don't have a Berthillon.

Berthillon is a famous Parisian glacier, or ice cream shop. Actually, it's the famous Parisian glacier; the place anyone who has done even the slightest bit of culinary research has heard of. In the summer, the line of devotees clamoring to get their next boule spills out the door and down the street from this Ile Saint Louis landmark. And who can blame them? Using only the simple ingrdients of milk, fresh cream, sugar, eggs and natural flavors, Berthillon manages to create sublimely delicious frozen treats. Their ice cream and sorbets are so good that even a crisp fall breeze or cold autumn rain wouldn't keep me - an admitted freeze baby - from eating a cone or two. And with seasonal flavors always on the menu (woodland strawberry just arrived!), Berthillon is an ice cream experience that knows no weather limitations.

Despite being located on the tiny Ile Saint Louis, the real Berthillon shop can be difficult to locate. That's because there are countless establishments nearby (and scattered throughout Paris) that are not Berthillon but that serve Berthillon ice cream and proudly display signs and awnings emblazoned with the name. To find the real Maison Berthillon, head down the main road that cuts through the island the long way, with your back to Notre Dame. You'll find the take-away counter and its accompanying line on your right. Next door is the Salon du Thé, where the prices are more expensive but where your ice cream comes with a cute dish, an almond toffee crisp, and the use of a clean restroom. I recommend both the pistachio, which tastes so vibrant you'll think you're eating a real pistachio nut, and the caramel au beurre salé, which is a French specialty and simply heavenly. Even in the cold.

Maison Berthillon
29-31 rue Saint Louis en l'ile
75004 Paris
métro: Pont Marie

Second Time Around in Strasbourg

Mentioning Strasbourg in Monday's post really got me thinking. I started remembering all the things I loved about this border town, and wondering why I never went back. It's a perfect candidate for a second visit: I haven't been there in eight years, and I only spent a measly 2 days trying to cram in everything the city has to offer. Of course, there are a lot of cities and villages in France that I haven't seen in years, or that I only briefly passed through, but not all of them captured my attention quite like Strasbourg.

Almost everything I remember about this city that used to belong to the Germans, then the French, then the Germans, and finally the French again, is something I enjoyed. There was the little medieval neighborhood called La Petite France, with its adorable half-timbered houses and flowing canals, the gorgeous Gothic cathedral with only one spire and a really cool astronomical clock, the modern tramway that made navigating the city a breeze, the outdoor zoo that housed my favorite animal (pink flamingo), and the beautiful Rhine river on whose banks the city rests. Just about the only thing I didn't like was the cold. I went in December, before the famous Christmas markets opened, but well after the weather had turned wintry. This is not advised.

One of the things about Strasbourg I didn't get to experience as much as I would have liked is the regional food and drink. An undergrad's budget generally only allows for a baguette and cheese diet, which, admitedly, is not an entirely bad way to spend meals, but I'd really like to sample some of the city's finer dining options. With my (minimally) better post-grad school financial situation, I could enjoy the region's German-influenced (read: lots of pork) cuisine and sip on dry Alsacian reislings. Not to mention the fact that this part of France is the country's main beer-producing locale. Need I say more?

Snow Day

This just in: Washington, DC has now had its first official snowstorm of 2009. I use the term "snowstorm" lightly, as in many parts of the world what we just witnessed would be termed "light flurries," but we're in Washington, so snowstorm it is. And though I generally prefer the first heat wave of the year, I have to admit that the white stuff does pretty up the place a bit. Not to mention the unique sense of quiet and calm that a little snowfall can bring to an otherwise bustling city.

Two things caught my attention as I walked about in the elements today. One was the odd neon blue and neon pink stuff I saw being spread around the sidewalks. Presumably, it's meant to melt the slippery spots, but what's with the color? What kind of strange chemical compounds are they releasing onto the streets of DC? What ever happened to plain old fashioned sand, which is more natural, less garish, and simply works better? Second was the surprising abundance of umbrellas. Maybe I've just never been observant enough in Minnesota to notice them (too preoccupied with trying to get to the next warm building so as not to freeze to death), but I don't think we use umbrellas to protect against snow up there. Yet it's apparently all the rage in DC. I shot this pair while walking home from work, and although the photo is a little blurry (artistic?), you can still see what I'm talking about. Hmmmmm... Thoughts?

Winter Wonderland

They say if you don't like the weather in Minnesota wait five minutes and it will change. They're not kidding. I've been home less than a week and I've already seen rain, fog, sun, clouds, wind and now snow. Just yesterday we had crystal clear blue winter skies with plenty of bright sunshine. Today we're waking up to a gentle snowfall and an inch or so already on the ground. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised to see a tornado whip through here on Thursday.

Wishful Thinking

Today is a day that was made for dreaming about the south of France. On top of the weather being drearily rainy, foggy and cold in Washington, DC, I'm faced with the prospect of flying home to Minnesota next week where, upon exiting the airport, I am sure I will be met by the kind of bitterly cold air that quite literally takes your breath away. My prospects for warmth, color and witnessing nature in bloom are looking pretty bleak, which is where the sunny hills of Provence and bright blue waters of the Mediterranean come in. Just thinking about the south of France puts a smile on my face. I can practically smell the lavender, hear the waves crashing on the shore, and see the bright colors of the buildings, flowers and markets. Thankfully, I have folder upon folder of pictures to help me remember more luminous times. Dreaming of non-winter weather as well? The following images should help.

Same Place, Different Time

Springtime in Paris is legendary. It's the time of year when love is in the air, flowers are in bloom and the city is supposedly on its most charming behavior. After spending the past spring in Paris (and naming my blog after the mythical season), I can happily confirm that, yes, it is a great time to experience the French capital. But I'm still not entirely convinced it's the best time to experience the French capital. In fact, two weeks of Autumn in Paris have led me to believe the city actually shines brighter on this side of the calendar, shortening days notwithstanding.

With the humid, heavy air of spring and summer blown away by crisp fall breezes, Paris finally comes into focus. I feel like I can actually see the city more clearly. Stunning architecture simply pops; at night, the City of Lights shines brighter than ever. Cool air is better for another of our senses: smell. Like any big city, Paris takes on an unpleasant odeur as the temperatures rise, while more appealing scents of falling leaves and hearty, home-cooked meals fill the autumn air. Parisians themselves look more at home in the fall than they do in the spring. I remember a couple of weeks in early May when summer-like temperatures made their first appearance...the locals just weren't very good at pulling off that whole bright colors, exposed skin, sandals look. Ah, but put them in long coats, chic scarves and classically tailored pants (all black, of course) and boy are they stunning! Yes, sitting out on a terrace and sipping a glass of wine on a sunny spring day is a perfect way to pass the time, but so is cozying up inside a warm cafe while sipping a cappuccino. Not to mention the food. Filling french classics like Boeuf Bourguignon, tarte aux pommes, and my favorite, fondue, are perfect accompaniments to autumn.



Don't get me wrong, spring was a fabulous time to be in Paris. Between the bountiful markets, late night strolls and picnics in the park, I wouldn't change a thing. Besides, Parisian Fall sounds like something that happens to women wearing high heels in the metro. Not exactly the blog title image I was going for. However, if you've yet to experience Paris in September, October or November, you're definitely missing out. Got an inkling to meander the Champs-Elysees but waiting until spring to take that flight? Don't! Hop on a plane and wander Paris' century old streets now. Autumn in Paris might not be legendary, but it's definitely classic. Don't forget to pack your chicest warm scarf.

Falling Down in Style

It happened while we were sleeping. Sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning, fall arrived. I spent the entire week previous enjoying lunches outside in the warm sun, wearing short sleeves and flip-flops, rolling down the windows on the car, only to be so rudely dragged out of my summer bliss by a cold front that came whipping through the state just in time for the weekend. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss summer, being that it's my favorite season and all. But fall has its perks too, especially in a climate such as ours. Apple orchard visits, cuddling up with a warm blanket, and buying new, comfy sweaters are just a few of the things I enjoy this time of year. Then, of course, there are the leaves. The golden yellow, deep orange, and flaming red leaves that appear on trees once limited to varying shades of green. This time of year, nature truly puts on a show.

There are always a couple of trees who get a head start on the leave changing season. They're the ones that are bright red in a sea of green weeks before their neighbors even think about donning a new look. These are the show-off trees; they like the attention. The "ooohs" and "ahhhs" of everyone realizing what is about to happen. And while the rest of the trees will change color gradually throughout the fall, it feels as though they were green one day and colorful the next. One day the landscape looks like summer and the next it has the unmistakable glow of autumn. There are plenty of fall colors to admire here in the city, but the best views are undoubtedly up north or down south. Lake Superior adds an exceptionally beautiful background to the golden trees, and a drive along the river bluffs on the way to Iowa is second to none in the fall.

The only bad thing about the leaves changing color is what happens afterwards. Sure, they'll give us a few weeks of breathtaking hues, but then, just as suddenly as they changed from green to gold, they will promptly fall down. Once this happens all we're left with is a bunch of empty trees and three (or four, or five, or...) months of a brutally cold winter. But weren't those few glorious weeks worth it? It's as if the trees sense the impending greyness of winter and decide to give us a huge send off; a final hurrah of color and brightness. And that's where we find ourselves now: in the final hurrah. Thank you, trees. We're enjoying every last minute of it.

We Need Snowboots and Sunscreen

"So, where are you from?" This is one of the most frequent questions a traveler will hear. Whether it's in the hostel, at the bar, or out on the streets, people you meet will inevitably want to know. After years of answering "Minnesota!" I've learned that there are some pretty hefty stereotypes of my home state floating around out there. Most of them have to do with our climate. You wouldn't believe how many people think we have winter year round. Or maybe you would, if you happen to be one of those people! Well, I'm here to dispel this nasty rumor once and for all. Minnesota does indeed have summer (and spring and fall), and we're currently enjoying a particularly spectacular one.

Ok, I'll admit that it gets cold here. Very cold. We usually make the national weather report when it gets down to 20, 30 or even 40 below zero Fahrenheit in some parts of the state, which is probably one of the sources of the misconception. Your average viewer's reasoning would go something like this: If it's 40 below in the winter, how could ever be warm any other time of the year? There's also the fact that Minnesotans like to brag about the cold and their ability to survive it with flying colors. Ha! Look at those people in the south. They get two flakes of snow and the whole town shuts down. We get two feet of snow plus sub-zero temperatures the next day and we still make it to work on time! We might be proud, but, unfortunately, it means that we're also misunderstood.

The winters may be cold and long, but the summers are glorious. The mercury regularly hovers in the 80s, the skies are a bright, sparkling blue, and our vast supply of lakes and trees and open spaces in general allow Minnesotans emerging from hibernation to enjoy nature in all her glory. Just the other day I went down to my favorite Minneapolis lake to take in some sun and a cool lake breeze. I wasn't the only one who thought this would be a good way to spend an afternoon of 85 and sunny. For a weekday afternoon, there were a fair amount of people. So no, we don't have winter all year long...but just in case that ever happens, we like to enjoy every second of summer we can.

Relativity

I need to stop watching weather reports. After the météo predicted four days of rain in the south of France, I find myself already enjoying the third day of sun. Ok, so yesterday and today weren't quite the bright sun/blue sky days that Friday was, but the occassional breaks in the clouds have been enough to make eating on a terrace by the Mediterranean enjoyable, and really, what more could you ask for?

This weekend's good fortune aside, it's been a rough start to the season for those in the south who rely on tourism to earn a living. Today's newspaper ran a story entitled "Sale temps pour la plage," (Bad Beach Weather) in which tourism industry workers in Nice and Cannes decried the lower than average temperatures, higher than average cloud cover and nearly daily rainshowers that have caused many would-be vacationers to cancel their plans. Considering the nearly empty beaches I've been seeing here in Six-Fours-les-Plages, this phenomenon is touching everyone along the Côte d'Azur.

Clearly, France's tourist-starved coastal towns aren't getting any help from erroneous weather predictions. After seeing numerous pessimistic reports, we almost joined the masses by cancelling our own plans for a weekend getaway. Luckily, we decided against it. The weather reports for our area on numerous websites were so off the mark that at times they were calling for rain while, if they had taken the time to simply look out the window, they would have noticed that it was not, in fact, raining. That's the thing about the south of France: where weather is concerned, you can never lose hope. Even the "bad" days down here are better than some of the "good" ones elsewhere.

Feeling the Heat

As citizens of a wealthy, industrialized country, Parisians enjoy above-average levels of comfort and convenience in their daily lives. Bountiful electricity, modern appliances and the latest electronic technologies are all around. But spend a few hot days in this city and you will quickly realize what's missing from their repertoire of 21st century conveniences: air conditioning.

That's right, this staple of American summers very nearly does not exist in Paris. It's not in apartments, it's not in my gym (yuck), and, despite a very large sign proclaiming that it is, it's not on the bus I rode last week. As far as I can tell, it doesn't exist anywhere on the Sciences Po campus. It's not in the library, not in the career center, not in the classroom of my French class that gets the hot afternoon sun, and it's certainly not in the crowded computer lab located at the top of a very long, tiring flight of stairs. I haven't noticed it in boutiques or restaurants, although you sometimes see signs on stores that advertise the fact that their establishment is air conditioned as if this was some newfangled contraption whose novelty could attract the masses.

Now, I've never been a huge fan of air-conditioning. I'm almost always cold, so I love the long, hot days of summer. It seems like such a shame to wait all winter long for warm temperatures only to have them blasted away by central air run amok. Not to mention the energy that is wasted by cooling everything down to the freezing point. But a reasonable amount of fresh air at critical moments of the day would be nice. I mean, transforming complex sentences and conjugating the subjunctive form of the verb in French is all good and well, but when the room is a roasting 90 degrees Fahrenheit it becomes a little trickier. Or when you're getting ready to go out (ladies, I know you understand me here) or when you're cooking a hot meal or trying on clothes at a store; these are times when you just would like a little climate control in your life. Scoff if you will, but trust me, one sweaty ride on the line 1 from Concorde to La Defense and you'll be begging for the max cool setting.

Summer in the City

Parisians are in a state of shock. After nearly two months of nothing but rain and clouds and the occasional teaser five minutes of blue sky, we've had almost an entire week of nothing but bright sunshine and warm temperatures. The summer clothes have come out, the metro feels like a sauna, and I think I've even seen one or two normally straight-faced Parisians crack a smile. Summer has finally come to the City of Light.

Evidence of summer's arrival is all around. Many cafés have extended their outdoor seating capabilities in an attempt to accommodate all the additional customers who want a suntan with their espresso. Parks are filled with Parisians no longer tempted to stay inside the office on their lunch break. The blue sky makes the cityscape even more beautiful than usual, and the sunsets are simply breathtaking. But I think that my favorite sign of summer is the sudden appearance of an ice cream stand at my local boulangerie. Two euros and 30 cents will get you a large cup of the most delicious homemade ice cream you've ever tried. Vanilla and mango are to die for.

When summer comes to Paris it's important to spend as much time outside as possible: wander the Marais, eat a picnic lunch down by the Seine, or settle in for some excellent people-watching at an outdoor terrace. You have to enjoy every minute of the sun because you never know if it will last. We've lived through March and April; we know what kind of weather is possible in this city. We're not taking any chances.

Foreshadowing

Mother Nature must read my blog. Not one hour after I had posted yesterday's entry about there never being any sunshine in Paris, the most amazing rainbow appeared right outside my apartment window. I think it was her way of telling me not to lose hope; Paris would not be gloomy forever.

As predicted by the rainbow, this morning's sky was brilliantly blue and perfectly clear.

Here Comes the Sun?

For ten glorious minutes I thought it was here to stay. When the clouds finally parted over Paris yesterday this sun-starved traveler took full advantage by propping herself up against a building and tilting her face up towards that glorious glowing object in the sky. Unfortunately, within a few short minutes the sunny sky turned back to a mix of sun and clouds with an emphasis on clouds.

Is it just me, or has it been cloudy in Paris since, well, forever? Cloudiness is great for sleeping in on weekends, but it's a motivational killer that makes leaving for class even more difficult than usual. I remember a two-week plus stretch in Washington, DC last fall when there was nothing but brilliant sunshine and 80 degree temperatures all day long. I also remember thinking "this is getting really tiresome, couldn't it just be cloudy for one single day?" Be careful what you wish for.

Luckily, this city makes full use of outdoor warmers so that Parisians can still enjoy an espresso on a terrace and have the illusion of a warm sun beating down on their shoulders. I'm always impressed at how widespread these heaters are, and bewildered about the lack of them in American cities. I know a lot of Minnesotans who would love to sit on such an artificially heated terrace, especially as winter lingers on into spring. As for Paris, the cloudy/sunny mix lasted until mid-afternoon. At about 4:00pm local time, the clouds finally won...at which time it promptly started to hail.

Unpredictability

We've been experiencing some very strange weather in Paris as of late. The kind of weather that is impossible to plan or dress for: rainy in the morning, sunny in the afternoon, a bit of hail thrown in at dinnertime for good measure. It's confusing at first, but once you learn never to leave home without your umbrella you're fine. Oh, and bring your sunglasses too...and a hat just in case.

All of this meteorology madness has made me rethink my relocation choices. I always seem to end up in cities with less than desirable weather patterns. Minneapolis is fabulous in the summer, but the winter can be long and depressing. Not to mention bone-chillingly cold. Washington was definitely an improvement, but it's by no means a paradise. August is perfectly miserable, and on the rare occasion it does snow, the whole place goes crazy. Paris is ok, but I'm beginning to understand why so many Frenchwomen wear boots - it rains nearly everyday! Maybe for just a couple of minutes, but you have to be ready for it. Why oh why have I not moved to Miami?

Paris awoke to brilliant sunshine today, which seemed to bode well for tonight's plans. Touring the Seine river by boat is much more agreeable when there is a lack of precipitation. Unfortunately, I'm not sure it will last as they're predicting plenty of cold and sleet for this evening. Lucky for me, I never leave home without my umbrella.

Rainy Day

After being welcomed to Paris by sunshine and above-average temperatures, I am now doing battle with weather that has settled comfortably into a pattern of cold, wind, and rain. As a result, I myself have decided to settle into a pattern that is all too well-known amongst Minnesotans: hibernation.

This decision stems from my firm belief that there is no need to go outside when horizontal precipitation is present. Umbrellas become useless, it hurts to keep your eyes open, and you have to endure the pity of those riding by in the warm comfort of their cars. Just walking from the bus to my apartment is unpleasant in such conditions. Luckily, saying inside on a rainy day is one of life's simple pleasures. Who doesn't like cozying up with a hot beverage and a good book? Or a movie you've been meaning to see? Or some household chores that have long been neglected? Such days can give us an excuse to tune out the outside world and enjoy some much needed "me" time.

While this current state of nesting is in no way facilitating my desire to explore Paris on foot, it is doing wonders for my scholarly commitments. Without the distractions of wandering through parks, shopping leisurely in commercial neighborhoods, or sitting on café terraces, I am free to pursue homework, research, and other activities more befitting a grad student...all the while anxiously awaiting the next sunny day.

Spring Has Sprung

There are two beautiful trees in bloom right outside my bedroom window. I've been watching them grow for nearly two weeks now, and today with the sun shining, the shutters thrown open, and a light breeze wafting in, they look absolutely amazing. As someone who was born and raised in northern climes, any sign of life in early March is exciting - flowering vegetation is a miracle.

The weather has been unusually mild in Paris recently, which might explain the fact that everything is in bloom and it feels like we're already enjoying the spring season. Sure, we've had some rain and fog, but the temperatures have stayed near 50 degrees Fahrenheit, making getting around town on foot perfectly enjoyable and comfortable. I only hope it stays this way, and that an early spring doesn't mean a late-arriving summer, or worse, winter's unexpected return. In the US, Puxatauney Phil saw his shadow, thereby predicting six more weeks of winter. These photos show that, clearly, the logic of Groundhog's Day doesn't translate into French.