Paris isn't for lovers...the Eiffel Tower is!!!

People say that Paris is for lovers. They say that, but I don't agree. I didn't see couples strolling hand in hand along the Seine. No one was making out in the shadowed corners of the Louvre. Maybe Paris in November isn't for lovers...maybe. In actual fact, the lover's magnet of Paris is the Eiffel Tower and they come out in droves be it rain or shine, spring or winter. It was fascinating and repulsive all at the same time.
While certainly not Paris' oldest or most grand tourist stop, La Tour Eiffel is definitely the city's most recognizable symbol and every time we caught sight of that famous spire we gawked and snapped a picture. (Especially Sandra ;) There is not a building in remotely close proximity that even begins to rival the tower in height and for that reason it is even more striking in its appearance. Nothing, however, can prepare you for it's sheer size, or for the number of Jamaicans hawking little metal replicas attached to large iron rings. Don't look those guys in the eye...I'm serious!! They'll follow you everywhere if you do! It's the attack of the persistent and slightly creepy vendors. Thankfully, there seems to be a type of anti-vendor force field that keeps them a certain distance from the tower. By the time you see this...you are in a vendor-free zone.

La Tour Eiffel was built between 1887 to 1889 by Gustave Eiffel and was designed as the archway into the 1889 World's Fair. It was originally intended to stand for 20 years and then be torn down, which pleased all the Tower-hating Parisians. It's funny to think that something so iconic was so universally lambasted by the French...they absolutely despised it. One funny story involves Guy de Moupassant, a French author considered to be the father of the modern short story. He claimed to hate the Eiffel Tower and yet he ate at one of its restaurants every day. When asked why he did so, Moupassant declared that it was the only place in Paris where he couldn't see the iron lattice eye-sore. My how opinions change! The tower is now the most visited paid monument in the world and a symbol for France.

We got into one of several lines for tickets and met our first pair of lovers: a Brazilian girl and a Parisian boy. My dad started talking with them, cuz he's never met a stranger, and then she and Jaime spoke to each other in Portuguese. They were a very charming couple, but I could tell that our efforts to be polite were cutting into their face time...every time the conversation took a break they started kissing. I turned my attention to the massive legs of the tower and away from all the spit swaping that was occuring around me. Luckily, the tower is quite the attention grabber. It is immense. Maybe it's just me, but the Eiffel Tower always seemed like a fairy spire or something, you know...dainty. No sir it is not. The base is 410 feet across (I could tell you that it is 125 meters, but that means nothing to me) and the first level is 187 feet off the ground. We actually turned up our noses at the first level and went straight to the second, which is a fear inducing 377 feet in the air. The 360 degree view is impressive.

After admiring the view we got into yet another snaking line so that we could take the lift to the top. This meant that we kept meeting the same people over and over again, and the image of all those lovers is burned into my brain. There was the French/Brazilian duo, an American couple, a handsome gay pair that were velcroed together (one of them kept winking at me), and many, many others all holding hands and gazing at each other with googly eyes and hugging and kissing. It was truly a sight to behold.

The second line for the lift to the top was definitely the longest and the weather turned from bright and blue to cloudy and cold. At a height of 377 feet, the wind has a lot more bite to it as well. We wrapped up tighter in our coats but I kept pulling my hands out of my pockets to snap more pictures. In the process I knocked loose my ticket for the lift and was going to have to step out of line when my father gallantly offered his. Of course, this generosity served two purposes because Dad's fear of heights is much greater than my own and, having already been to the top while serving his mission in Paris, he was happy to stay on the second level. We finally made it into one of the lifts and I was left to contemplate my sanity as we rocketed to the top...905 feet from the ground. If the observation deck had been outside, I probably would have fainted, but it was all enclosed in wonderful plexiglass and warm to boot. I walked around and admired the city, but was taunted by the final climb...a set of stairs that led up and out into the open air. I gathered my courage and then went up, out and all the way around, hugging the wall the entire way. I don't have a single picture from my expedition because I would have had to let go of the wall. These pictures come courtesy of Sandra...who isn't a chicken.

nice pics Sandra!

We spent quite a bit of time in the Eiffel Tower gift shop, the one place I didn't mind the outrageous tourist prices...I mean, come on, it's the Eiffel Tower. I bought little replicas of the tower for my kiddos and by the time we had descended to the bottom of the tower, it was dark. Minutes after arriving at ground level, the special lights display that had been engineered for the 120th birthday of La Tour Eiffel came on. They were amazing!

courtesy of Sandra...again!

Then, to commemorate our visit, Sandra laid down on the ground and took this picture of all of us...
After once again braving the hordes of souvenir sellers, we headed out into the Paris night, bound for the exquisite Louvre. I snapped one last pic on our way to the metro. Au revoir Tour Eiffel!
La Tour Eiffel Facts:

Nickname: The Iron Lady
Height: 1062+ feet
Weight: 10,100 tons
Number of Metal Pieces: 18,038
Number of Rivets: 2,500,000
Number of bulbs for the tower: 20,000

The tower is painted every seven years and 60 tons of paint is required to do the job. The tower is currently painted bronze: dark at the bottom and lighter toward the top. The tower was originally reddish-brown and was also ocher-yellow.

The Eiffel Tower was the tallest building in the world from 1889 to 1930, when the Chrysler Building was completed in New York City.

Though huge, the Eiffel Tower actually has a very low density. It weighs less than a cylinder of air occupying the same space.

I didn't see a hunchback but I heard an ugly noise.

I know...there is a random French guy in my picture. I tried to cut him out with my red border, but it made the picture look weird so "Monsieur Picture Bomb" gets to stay. At least he's not flipping the bird or picking his nose or whatever. I have a story to tell about Notre Dame, about the first time I saw it actually, which was not on our Friday tour of the city - it was on Thursday. We had traveled from the Chateau Brou to Paris at a good pace with Jaime and I in the front seat as navigators. Dad encouraged us to find a way into Paris that would drive us past some of the famous sites, which we were eager to do. Everything was going well until we hit major traffic and learned that Paris is hell on wheels. We quickly threw our plans to see the sites out the window and instead focused on getting to our apartment in time to meet the landlady. We diligently tried to direct our flustered father aright, but Paris is cursed with rond-points (the infernal round-a-bouts) and poor signage and we were lost for two or three hours, I can't remember for how long because it all started to blend into a nightmare. We definitely weren't following Elder Wirthlin's counsel to "Come What May And Love It" (more's the pity). After finally finding our way, we dragged our bags into the apartment through the pouring rain and all I wanted to do was lie down and forget we ever drove through Paris, but Dad needed to take the mini-bus to the Alamo station. My faith in my navigation skills were nill, but Jaime needed to take care of squish-face Chase, so I offered to go. Dad, Mom, Laraine and I made our way toward the Hotel de Ville where we understood the Alamo station was located, but of course took some wrong turns and ended up on some one way streets, so I unexpectedly got to see some amazing sites. The first was the Paris Opera House which popped into my view all gilded and ornate. The second was the The Louvre. We drove under a massive stone archway and the next thing I knew I was staring at the hideous glass pyramid and the amazing architecture of the winter palace. It was gone in a flash, but the image is burned into my memory. The last site I saw (before we got stuck in a tunnel heading under the hotel in our attempt to find the stupid Alamo Rental and had to drive out backwards and then went down another tunnel and scraped the top of the mini-bus on the height clearance bar and then finally dropped off our vehicle before Dad lost his mind and drove us all screaming into the River Seine) was Notre Dame. We crossed a bridge that gave us a clear view of the back of the cathedral and it's amazing flying butresses. How ironic that an architectural support designed to fix a flaw makes the back of the church more amazing than the front. As aggravating as driving in Paris and returning the car were, I'll never forget those first glimpses of some of Paris' most amazing sites and the sense of wonder it instilled in me that in the midst of the hustle and bustle, the red light districts and the endless smokers and the grafitti, there was treasure that would come up unexpectedly and leave me breathless. So, back to Notre Dame!

Notre Dame de Paris, "Our Lady of Paris" in Anglaise, is a Gothic, Roman Cathedral and unfinished to boot. It is also O-L-D!! The first stone was laid in 1163 AD (in the presence of Pope Alexander III no less)...that is 847 years ago people! Bishop Maurice de Sully felt that the extant Cathedral of St. Stephan was too pedestrian to be the "parish church of the Kings of Europe" and had it demolished. The story goes that the Bishop then had a vision of the new church and scratched out the design in the dirt on the very spot where it would be built. The cathedral was built in stages with the eastern end (choir, high alter, etc.) completed first so that the building could be in use even while it was still being built. The whole was "finished" around 1345 AD, 182 years after it was started. I say "finished" because a building that old has undergone many restorations and refurbishings, but also because the final spires that were originally planned were never added, leaving the the two front towers flat on top.
The front of the church (or West Facade) has three portals over which are different scenes. The Portal of Saint Anne is on the right (which apparently has not much to do with St. Anne since the scene above the portal depicts Mary and baby Jesus), The Portal of the Last Judgement is in the center, and The Portal of the Virgin, which displays scene's of Mary's death, is on the left. The Portal of the Last Judgment has Christ in the center flanked by his apostles, and then the scene of the Last Judgement from the Gospel of Matthew above.










Above the Last Judgement scenes are all the Kings of Judah (descendants of Jesse), which later became a representation of the Kings of France, and then there is a Madonna and Child flanked by two angels in front of the circular window toward the top. Whew! My head was spinning - there was a lot going on with this building and we weren't even inside yet.
We entered the church through the Portal of the Virgin (no final judgement for me yet!) and were instantly greeted by the most hideous and annoying sound known to man...an organ being tuned. Here's the thing. Someone, maybe a demon from hell or something, would play an off-key note (and they started with the piercingly high ones) and hold it for a really, Really, REALLY long time. At the moment you thought your eardrums would burst, the note would come into tune, there would be a blessed moment of silence, and then they would start again. I looked at over-priced nativity scenes and then I tried to look at all the statues in the gallery, I really did, but I ended up practicing my speed walking just to get away from the noise. The only things that really made an impression on me were the statue of Joan of Arc (cuz I shielded Jaime and Chase with a blanket beneath her stern protection while they did a quick diaper change) and the Rose Window (cuz not even the horrible shrieking organ could take away from it's beauty).
Once outside, once again listening to the blessed sounds of horns honking and people talking, we walked around the church to see all it's features, stopping for a brief time to eat at the most darling sidewalk cafe. We unthawed with creamy hot chocolate and devoured Croque Monsieurs - the most heavenly ham and cheese sandwich known to man! I took another picture of the Rose Window (this time from the outside):
admired the flying buttresses (built to stop the walls from bulging out the back) up close this time:
and posed for a picture with my sweet sisters.
As we headed for the Eiffel Tower, we saw a fascinating sight. An elderly gentleman was on the grass along the sidewalk with his hands full of birdseed. He stood very, very still as birds flew in to eat from his hands, and he was surrounded by a veritable flock of tiny beaks and wings. Yet another unexpected sight around the corner on a day in Paris.

The Artists Perch Near The Sacred Heart

Our first full day in Paris dawned sunny and bright. After we passed the gates that kept our little apartment community separated from the Paris streets, Dad got directions to Sacre Coeur. According to the man on the street, the great white basilica was "not far" and we could easily walk there. Well, it was far, but we had a grand walk and I got to snap some pictures of a city cemetery.









The gravestones were large and ornate and there were many crypts of differing sizes. It was easy for me to see why Nobody Owens could have lived comfortably with his adoptive parents in the graveyard...if you don't know what I'm talking about please read The Graveyard Book. The cemetery was on a hill and followed its slope down under a roadway bridge and out the other side - a completely fascinating find in the midst of a big and busy city.We hoofed it up a hill in the wake of a charming Frenchwoman who was kind enough to guide us to where we needed to be, and after traversing many a winding street (stopping only to ogle the pastries at the boulangerie we passed) we came to an open space...the famous artist's square.

In the mid 1800's the first artists began to live and work in the Montmartre area, and by the end of the century it was one of the principle artistic centers of Paris. Impoverished painters (and aren't they almost always down on their luck) lived and worked together in communes. Some of the most famous names in the art world converged there: Pablo Picasso, Vincent Van Gogh, Henri Matisse, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Edgar Degas, and Salvador Dali to name a few, and they must have been quite a group...a guy who chopped off his ear, another guy who painted like he was on acid, some guy who saw the world in cubes - lots of fun I'm sure! In the tradition of these and many others, artists still gather at the Place du Tertre to set up their easels and sell their wares to touristy folks who want a bit of history.

After browsing and buying beautiful pictures of Paris, we continued our way up what was once known as Mons Martis or the "Mount of Mars" - and here is an interesting story. Mars is the Roman God of War and obviously the Mount of Mars was a pagan site - Paris itself was a Roman city - and a pious and holy man named Denis was sent with his two faithful companions Rusticus and Eleutherius to convert everyone to Christianity. He was having such good success that the local druidic priests decided he had to go, so they chopped off his head on the top of the Mount of Mars but did that stop Denis? Heck no way! He promptly picked up his head and walked seven miles preaching the gospel the entire way, so now he is Saint Denis - the patron saint of France. The hill's name was Christianised to Montmartre, or hill of the martyrs, and later gave it's name to the entire local area.

The basilica of Sacre Coeur was begun in 1875 and it's history is interesting as well. In 1871, a group of local, working class leaders known as the Paris Commune, took control of the city and ruled it for two months. The first insurrection by the communards occurred in Montmartre, they executed the Archbishop of Paris there, and many of them died when they retreated into the hill's disused gypsum mines and the Army of Versailles collapsed the openings with explosives. In 1873, the National Assembly declared that a church would be built on the Montmartre hill to "expiate the crimes of the communards." This is, I think, a depressing reason to build a church, so now it's dedicated to those who fought and died in the Franco-Prussian War, which was a major factor behind the discontent of the working class and the rise of the Paris Commune.
This is a fantastically beautiful building, whatever it's reason for being built. The name Sacre Coeur means Sacred Heart - more specifically, it is named for the sacred heart of Jesus. A man named Joseph-Hippolyte Guibert, the successor to the Archbishop killed by the communards, had a vision while climbing the Montmartre butte in 1872 and declared, "It is here, it is here where the martyrs are, it is here that the Sacred Heart must reign so that it can beckon all to come." And beckon it does, but mostly to tourists, the rest of Paris is happy to go "unbeckoned", as it were.

There was a service in progress when we went inside the church (the nuns were singing so beautifully - I could have sat happily listening to them all morning) so we quietly made our way around the interior to see what was there was to see. A small shop was selling nativities, and I seriously considered them for a time, but the view from the top of the church beckoned so we headed back outside to pay a small fee and climb a bazillion winding stairs. When we got out of the first claustrophobia-inducing stairwell we walked across one of the lower roofs to another stairwell. This is the view from the lower roof:That happy blue sky makes me smile every time I see it - it was the best weather we had while in France. We plunged back into another stairwell and all the dizziness of hundreds of stairs in a steep spiral became worth it because, despite the claims of the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur has the best view of Paris.

The city is an amazing maze of white stone buildings and is beautiful from an elevated position (not so much from up close).

The thick stone walls between me and a hideous plunge to my death helped keep my vertigo at bay.

My fascination with the Eiffel Tower continues...

I loved the gargoyles hanging from the rooftops of Sacre Coeur.

As soon as we had looked our fill, we bid farewell to the wonderful view of Paris and descended to terra firma. As we headed down the steps I thought to myself, "I didn't notice that statue on the way up!" I pointed it out to my father and he got all excited. He recognized what I did not - the statue was a man holding really still. He had seen the same thing when he and Mom went to Madrid to visit the temple there. Actors would dress up in unique costumes and be still as statues until you tossed some money in their cup - then they would move and emote or whatever. It was kinda like those horsey rides in Wal-Mart that move when you put in 50 cents, only this was way cooler. Here is dad and the white "statue." He was really fun and I wondered if he was supposed to be a ghostly Catholic priest or something. It did kinda look like he was giving out blessings or something.

The second guy looked cool, but all he did was bow when you put money in his cup. He was getting seriously upstaged by the white ghostly priest statue man...or whatever he was.

We walked down the hill and headed for the metro and our next of four stops for the day...Notre Dame.

"She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain."

I love that quote! It's by Louisa May Alcott, who wrote Little Women, which is a very good book, by the way. I have so much to say today and I am so glad for this little forum called my blog, and I'm glad to be back on the world-wide web because we've had computer woes since last Friday. It's a terrible thing to be cut off from all the information that the internet has to offer...especially when one is trying to find pictures and facts about king cobras to help a little second grader make a cool poster for school AND when one is preparing for a cub scout den meeting. Computers are crucial in these instances!! So, back to books. I have read the most wonderful books lately and I thought I would share. I am a firm believer that a book should help you think about life differently by presenting a scenario that you can place yourself in and, along with the main character, learn from. If a book teaches you nothing, and only stimulates your senses, IT ISN'T WORTH READING!! Good books "turn our brains" and open our eyes and expand our view.

The Truth About Sparrows is a gentle and simply, yet beautifully written book. It is told from the perspective of a twelve year old girl named Sadie and speaks about family, a self-worth, compassion for others, embracing new things, living up to one's potential, and learning what is of real value in life. When I read the small snippet of prose on the back of the book I knew I had to read the story because that one paragraph was so well written! This is a wonderful book!




This story is set in the early 1900's and chronicles the real-life journey of a young woman into the Canadian wilderness. I simply marveled at the experiences she had and the way of life she embraced. I'll never look at mosquitoes the same way again! Ack!! I laughed and cried my way through this book and hugged my children tight at the end, it is a simply wonderful story.






The Graveyard Book begins with a murder, which is quite an eye-popping and disturbing way to start, but the book is about death, so it is also appropriate - just beware. The story is about a boy called "Nobody Owens" who is orphaned by the aforementioned murder and is raised by ghosts in an old graveyard. The young boy grows from toddler to teen in the course of the book, learning life's lessons from the dead and coming to realize his own strengths, weaknesses, and the power to be found in living a full life. It is clever and a bit melancholy and turns modern ghost stories on their ears. The book also has the reader consider death (which I don't think we like to do) and whether or not death is the end of all things or the start of something else.

I love, Loved, LOVED this story. It grabbed me right from the beginning. What a clever and funny and imaginative book! The characters are so interesting and their is someone for everyone to identify with: straight arrow Kendra, fearless and mischievous Seth, talented and mysterious Lena, honest and hardworking Dale, competent and straightforward Grandma Sorenson, and fair minded Grandpa Sorenson. This is not only an entertaining story, but a moral story as well, one which could provide lots of opportunities to talk to other readers (including kids!) about gospel principles such as agency, obedience, justice and mercy, truthfulness, and integrity.



Hooray for good literature! If you read any of these, let me know what you think and thanks to all those who put these books in my path.

"You will return home through arches of triumph".

So said Napoleon Bonaparte to his Grande Armee after their victory at the Battle of Austerlitz. He commissioned an arch for them to march under, based on the Arch of Titus in Rome, only bigger (cuz Napoleon wanted everything connected with him to be bigger and better...including himself). The Arc de Triomphe, as it came to be called, was commissioned in 1806 and finished in 1836, long after Napoleon was ousted and exiled to the island of Elba in 1814, returned to power in 1815, was defeated at Waterloo in 1815 and exiled again - this time to St. Helena, and finally died on 5 May 1821. (Whew!) The names of 128 battles of the first French Republic and Napoleon's Empire are written on the walls under the vault, together with the names of the generals who took part in them. Also located under the arch is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, interred in 1920 in memory of those who died during the first world war, but also now representing the soldiers of World War II as well. An eternal flame burns at the site of the grave.We used the fabulous metro to go everywhere in Paris (after we ditched the car at the Alamo station that is) and the stop for the Arc de Triomphe drops you off at the perfect spot - go up the stairs, turn around, and there it is!

I was puzzled at first about how to get to the arch. I mean, it is in the center of a rond-point, or roundabout, that spins off to twelve different streets, like the spokes on a wheel. I figured trying to cross the street would mean certain death, but I really wanted to see the arch up close, so I was considering this special form of tourist suicide when we found the tunnel that goes under the rond-point and up to the arch. Hooray! The detail on the arch with all its different sculptures and friezes is amazing.

The eternal flame at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

The Arc de Triomphe is at the head of the Champs-Elysees, so instead of hopping back on the metro, we walked the length of that famous avenue gaucking at the finery in all the stores. We passed names like Cartier, Louis Vitton, Chanel, Christian Dior, and Yves Saint Laurent. I'm not much of a fashionista, but even I couldn't help drooling over the cashmere scarves, shiny boots, glittering diamonds, and elegant clothes. Dad laughed at us and exclaimed, "I can't imagine why you all are staring at things you'll never be able to afford." I gleefully parroted that back to him when he became glued to the window of a car show...













We continued all the way down the Champs-Elysees until we reached the Place de la Concorde and the Luxor Obelisk. I snapped pictures and couldn't help but think of The Da Vinci Code...oh well.

We also got our first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower.
With our feet tired and sore we found our way to the nearest metro station and went home to collapse.

Test Kitchen Tuesday - What's wrong with a mushroom or two?

I found a recipe on Hot off the Garlic Press that I just had to try. The pictures looked so scrumptious but I was left with a problem. The dish was Beef Fillet with Gratin of Mushrooms and Chad doesn't like mushrooms, but I do. My spouse's taste preferences shape what kind of food I make to a great degree. He is very good, however, to at least try new dishes - but I know that some things are just persona non grata with him, like mushrooms. I figured I could get away with this dinner, though, because it's a big fat steak topped with a golden, crispy crust of mushrooms and cream. If he really didn't like it, he could always *SOB - SNIFF* scrape if off. Well, he didn't like it, but I loved it.
Beef Fillet with Gratin of Mushrooms

1 shallot, finely chopped (can use 1/4 of an onion)
1 garlic clove, crushed
4 T. olive oil
7 oz. mixed mushrooms (whatever you like - I used baby bellas and regular ole buttons)
2 T. chives, finely chopped
4 T. heavy cream (can use whipping cream)
1 large egg yolk
4 fillet steaks, about 6 to 7 ounces and 4cm thick (do the best you can or find something thinner and adjust the cooking time)
3 T. freshly grated Parmesan

Preheat oven to 400 F. Prepare the topping by gently sautéing the shallot and garlic in 1 tablespoon of olive oil for about 5 minutes until nicely softened. Add a further 2 tablespoons of olive oil and sauté the mushrooms over a high heat, stirring frequently, for about 7 minutes until browned and cooked. The mixture should be quite dry. If necessary, tip it into a sieve to drain off any remaining liquid.

Remove the garlic clove and transfer the mushrooms to a bowl, allow to cool. Whip the cream until softly stiff. Fold in the mushrooms along with the egg yolk, chives and a tablespoon of the grated Parmesan, then season with salt and pepper. Set aside.

Season the steaks all over with salt and pepper. Heat a large non-stick frying pan until you can feel a strong heat rising. Sear the steaks for about 4 -6 minutes per side (if using steaks 4 inches thick).

Remove from the pan. Put the steaks on a shallow baking tray. Pile the mushroom mixture on top of the steaks and dust with the remaining Parmesan. Cook in the oven uncovered, for about 5-7 minutes until the topping is bubbling and golden. (I put them under the broiler for a bit to get the look I wanted.)

YUM!

I DID IT!!

I just want to announce to the world that I FINISHED reading the Old Testament. In the end it took me a lot longer than I had originally planned, but that was because I was actually studying, and because I was studying, I learned a lot and my love of the Old Testament has expanded so much. I'm so grateful it is our course of study for Gospel Doctrine this year. I want to share a quick thing that I learned on my last day of study, when I read Malachi chapters 3 & 4. Malachi 3 is famous for it's verses on tithing. Whenever anyone teaches the principle of tithing, they quote Malachi 3:8-12 and bring out the temporal blessings that we receive for our obedience to this law. Children or posterity are often referred to as "fruit" in the scriptures and, with that thought in mind, verse 11 took on a new significance for me. "And I will rebuke the devourer for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground; neither shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the Lord of hosts." The "devourer" is most often seen as natural calamities, but can also be Satan, so our obedience to the law of tithing will protect our children from the power of the adversary. They will learn the importance of keeping our covenants because they see US do it, they will know the blessings that come from tithing because they will hear US testify of it, and they will be strengthened because of OUR example. Isn't it great?! I love, Love, LOVE the Old Testament!!