FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9
A quick morning visit to the university gym and to buy groceries for the train then back to ViaAmsterdam for a burger – at the Dude Restaurant where we sat in a dude cubby, muralled cool booth. The walk/drag to the Metro was laborious, crossing through the university grounds, over grass and up a bloody hill, also grass and hard packed earth, and topped off with a ton of stairs, all to get to the Metro station. All good and sweaty for the Metro to the huge, gorgeous red brick and ornate Amsterdam Central Station!
A TRAIN RIDE FROM AMSTERDAM TO PARIS
Ah, a spacious and comfortable train! But Chloe and I had argued and didn’t speak for most of the four-hour trip.
I listened to a Hive interview about wealth in the United States. The interviewee made the argument that the rich, who control the country, are leading it to disaster. She compared the US now to Europe under feudalism, drawing the distinction that Europeans distrusted Kings and feudal landlords while Americans distrust Kings but don’t seem to mind a feudal state. The feudal lords — Trump and Silicon Valley types.
As we rode the train, Trump was on his way to Paris, he and all the western world leaders, for the hundredth anniversary of Armistice Day.
PARIS, HURRAH!
Paris, Gard du Nord, 5:30pm, five minutes in a cab to our Airbnb at 13, rue Alexandra Parodi, near Canal St. Michael in the 10th Arrondisment. Anthony met us in front of the building– a small, thin, enthusiastic young man who tried his best to speak English as I struggled and failed with my French.
One at a time, Chloe and I entered the tiny elevator, just barely large enough for each of us alone with our bag. Anthony ran up the seven (double) flights of steps, which we would soon realize was a feat to be admired. Perhaps it accounted for his litheness.
The apartment was a large, one-bedroom atop the building so there were windows on either side– both in the living room and the glassed-in terrace. Like any good French apartment the doors and, at least one wall, were made of glass. The bathroom window opened to the Terrace, the glass bedroom doors to the glass terrace, and the wall between the foyer and the living room and the bedroom was glass with white, iron work on one side. Corners were rounded; walls painted a simple white.
DINNER ON THE CANAL ST. MICHAEL
We searched along Canal St. Michael for a restaurant, passing three that were similar, the first bursting with people and intimidating. We chose the fourth, the quietest, and undoubtedly the worst. I had steak tartar, pretty horrible, and Chloe had couscous. It cost too much. We argued again. I told Chloe she lacked enthusiasm and expressiveness, and kicked myself later. She is only 18. What am I thinking…
The lights of Montmartre dazzled us from the living room. My room was dark and quiet, and I slept well, so happy to be in Paris! A light rain fell outside.
