la vie en rose
“La vie en rose. It is the French way of saying ‘I am looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses.’” - Sabrina, played by Julia Ormond in the 1995 film Sabrina.
I’ve been trying to think of a way to capture Paris and our time in France this Christmas, but words feel deficient for the experience, and as usual, I have been undoubtedly over-reflecting on our trip there. Which is why it has taken me so long to finally include it here in the blog so long after we got back.
Paris is stately, dignified, palatial. The French countryside is aristocratic yet reminiscent of something simple. I think as an American the common rhetoric you hear before visiting France is that it is dirty, full of rude people and the likely source of pickpocket attempts. This was not my experience at all.
Maybe it’s as Sabrina said and I view France as the French do - through rose-colored lenses, as smooth and pink as the sunsets backdropping the imposing stone buildings and black wrought iron fixtures littered about the sidewalks... Paris is rosy like a dream, the edges of my memory cloudy.
The architecture alone could have possessed me, a city clearly built for walking among the ceremonial buildings, but in the end it was the charm and wit of the people I met there that left me stunned.
While I don’t claim to be an expert on travel, especially on France (at all), I find that fear and expectations are what determine our experiences. If you go somewhere determined to find it ugly and the people rude then that is exactly what you will find. From western European countries to the reaches of Asia, people are decidedly more similar than we think: we want to be understood and unafraid.
I don’t want this to take away from all the fun things we did, places we stayed and food we ate (that’s coming in a bit), but it's important to note the only people I noticed being rude were my fellow American tourists. This is not only disappointing but embarrassing. One very specific incident being the American tourist I saw angrily waving at a coffee shop worker who couldn’t quite figure out his order. Eventually the man stomped off saying loudly “he doesn’t speak English”. The worker shrugged it off, then upon hearing my abhorrent French, in my American accent, smiled and motioned for me to stand off to one side while he grabbed my drink.
A practice in empathy here is that while you may be trying to understand others or maybe feel uncomfortable trying to speak in their language, they may very well be feeling the same way about trying to speak to you. In these moments of travel, and even while at home in the US, where you may be communicating with someone who doesn't speak English, I implore you to think about how crazy the expectation is that everyone should speak perfect English. In fact, there is little more joy than that which I have found when I am hunched over a menu with a waiter in a different country, both of us using google translate on our phones to spell the word “intestines”, while we both smile and make yummy motions with our hands on our tummies. I hope it’s something everyone gets to experience at least once.
So onto the actual trip - Instead of just saying where we stayed and ate I wanted to keep a journal of our time there to look back on, so that is what you will find here. None of this has to be “done when you see Paris”, there is no “ultimate guide to France” or hacks for traveling around the French countryside. I just am sharing where I went and what I did in case you saw something that looked interesting to you and because I would like to read this again one day and remember what I did.
A short getaway the week between Christmas and New Years.
Day 1:
Dec 23-24
Michael and I drove from Amsterdam with our dog Kit through the rainy Dutch countryside, then the even rainier Belgian countryside, before finally seeing the bucolic hills of France. The beauty of a road trip in Europe is seeing the small towns along the way. While the trains are efficient at shuttling travelers from major city to major city in Europe, there is so much of each country's smaller towns you are missing by taking them. The stop for the farm lunch in a tiny French village and at the Belgian gas station to load up on special Belgian snack foods for a taste test in the car are vivid memories of this trip.
Our first stop was in Paris to meet up with my childhood best friend (although you can’t really call us adults now) Nicole, and her family. Growing up the Cammacks always let me tag along on their family vacations, picture me fighting in the backseat with Nicole’s brother or Nicole for that matter, and now that I am an adult and married nothing has changed. Except that Michael get’s to be an honorary Cammack now too. The Cammacks were only in Paris that night so we decided to spend the day with them there before heading to Rambouillet for Christmas Eve.
The thing about Nicole is that she is the perfect person to travel with if you are a “do-er”. Knowing our first day would be with her, Michael and I had nothing to plan and could trust everything would be decided for us. We got in and immediately dropped off our things and Kit (he loves to nap on the plush beds and he also loves room service) at the hotel and rushed to meet her at the Louvre. You could spend 100 hours in the Louvre and never see all of it. The glass pyramid in the center is iconic for a reason, the modern addition somehow seamlessly pairs with the original historic structure.
Obviously everyone typically goes to the Louvre to see one artist, and even more specifically one piece of art. The Mona Lisa is a masterpiece. The reality of museums and masterpieces though is that many people want to see it. I personally view this as a good thing, because accessible art and history is important. I do want to note though, that this means there is a large mob usually surrounding it, and if you are 5 foot like me, it will take you a while to make it through the sea of raised iPhones to look at it with your own eyes. This experience was a little too black mirror feeling for me, people looking only through their screens at the art and then shuffling onward to the next exhibit.
If you aren’t interested in the art the Louvre has to offer or you only want a picture of the Mona Lisa, I would say skip this. Yes that's right, you heard me tell you to skip the Louvre. The narrative of travel being you “have to see this or do this to REALLY experience a place” doesn’t align with the truth. Travel is meant to be fun, it is not homework or a box you need to check. If you are into fashion and traveled to Paris, then maybe the Dior Gallery or the Place Vendôme would be better uses of your time, and still a valid way of experiencing Paris. If you are an art lover though, nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the collection at the Louvre.
After the Louvre we popped back to the hotel to freshen up before getting a car to dinner at Aux Anysetiers du Roy. I cannot stress enough how fantastic the food and chef was at this restaurant. The ambience was cozy and warm, with only 6 tables situated directly next to the kitchen lined with cases of produce and desserts. They served up traditional French fare, I had the boeuf bourguignon with a simple dressed salad and the crème brûlée for dessert, obviously. The chef, noticing we were tourists, sang Happy Birthday in English when he delivered dessert, and at the part of the song when he got to the name he proudly said “crème brûlée ”. After dinner he waited with us outside for our car and we chatted about the dishes his mother would make the next evening at the restaurant.
From there we went to the Eiffel Tower, where at the base were men scattered about selling small blinking, sparkling mini versions of the monument. Somewhere, someone was playing La Vie en Rose presumably bussing for the tourists, but it created a warm and exciting feeling in the air. The Christmas market was located across the street and we stopped for some vin chaud before climbing the steps to the Trocadéro to get a view of the sparkling Tower at the top of the hour. Contrary to popular belief the Eiffel Tower doesn't sparkle all night, at least not in the literal sense, but only at the top of each hour for 5 minutes.
We ended the night extremely late and happy, having spent time together with our second family. After moving abroad, a hug from your second mom and walking arm in arm with your best friend is just what you need after months of feeling lost and foreign.
Days 2 - 4
Dec 24- 27
The next morning was Christmas Eve and we drove to the L'Abbaye des Vaux-de-Cernay (The Abbey). The Abbey sits in the French countryside town of Rambouillet, about 45 minutes outside of Paris. Waving hello and giving our name to the gateman as we entered through the tall wrought iron gates to the Abbey felt ceremonial and auspicious.
The Abbey was originally founded in 1118 (yeah I know right) and established as a monastery built in honor of Saint John the Baptist. Over the years it passed through various states and eventually became the hunting lodge for the Rothschild family in the late 1800s, when it was restored. It is situated near the Palace of Versailles and was said to even harbor some of the art for the Palace during the second world war. Most recently it has, like most old things in Europe, found a second purpose as a chateau style hotel that was recently featured in Vogue France and Elle, which is how I heard about it.
Our first night there we booked in to eat at the Réfectoire des Moines, what used to be the monks' rectory. It being Christmas eve, the Abbey prepared a special menu that included foie gras and a variety of delicate seafood dishes topped with caviar. We had bubbles and enjoyed our quiet dinner before ending the night in the sitting room for a night cap.
The main sitting room was styled in the fashions of a Scottish hunting lodge that is reminiscent of clips and footage from an episode of The Crown. The stone walls lined with tartan wallpaper, a roaring fire burning, and an offering of cigars and chartreuse at the bar all create the sense you have slipped back in time.
After a night cap we would take the long winding mahogany staircase to our attic room. The stairways were lined with thick blue carpet embellished with the Abbeys symbol and gave me the girlish feeling of slipping into a novel as an heirhess bounding up the back steps at a family home in the countryside. (I had also just finished reading the Inheritance Game while there which really added to this delusion).
Our room was a charming mash of mismatched patterns which I am now determined to incorporate in our home in Amsterdam as a guest room design. The slanted ceilings and clashing fabrics made it feel more familial than any other hotel we have ever stayed in. Additionally, the room was perfect for Kit. It took him no time to make use of the silver plated dog bowls with Evian puppy water bottles and the silk ribbed doggy bed. Not to mention anytime the cleaning staff saw him they would immediately get down to the floor to play and snuggle with him, suffice to say he enjoyed the room as well.
The next morning we woke to special plans for a restful Christmas. We had brunch back at the Réfectoire, which unlike an American Christmas brunch, featured salmon, blinis and risotto. Then we took Kit, for what we jokingly said was his Christmas gift, a tromp through the countryside to chase the geese by the lake. We spent a lot of time that way, walking in the mist, ankles deep in mud, wearing the absolute wrong shoes that LA had taught us to wear for a fashionable weekend in the woods.
Later that afternoon we had booked in for some couples time at the spa as a gift to each other. We got a couples massage, then relaxed by the hot baths with small porcelain cups of tea. We took a turn in the sauna before begrudgingly showering off and heading back to the Abbey before our Christmas dinner at L’Auberge. After having stuffed ourselves for our last two meals we had a more simple, classic french meal of farm veggies, crusty bread and fish. After dinner we decided to sneak in some reading while shut up in our room for the night.
The next day, our last full day, we decided to spend most of it outside. We took a few hours to walk through the tall grass surrounding the estate and sit by the lake while Kit tried to go swimming. Eventually we tired and came in for food, a snack of pickled veggies and bread. We cleaned up and then spent the rest of the day by the fireplace in a sitting room, reading.
We had dinner at Les Chasses. This was probably the most anticipated restaurant of the stay, if only for the classic steak cooked perfectly being a refreshing change for the two of us after a weekend of caviar and bubbles, but don't worry caviar was also still there.
After dinner we took bubble baths, as the clawfoot tub in our marble bathroom demanded, and then went down to one of the sitting rooms where a magician approached us. He was hired by the Abbey to entertain the guests sitting that evening. He asked me to pick a card and write my name on it. Then after giving a shaky Michael a knife and asking him to hold it still, he threw the deck of cards at the knife and the only card stuck to it was the 3 of hearts with my name on it. I’ve decided to keep the card as a bookmark but being overly introspective as I am I can’t help but take joy in the fact that the card I chose was the three of hearts while away on a Christmas family vacation with my family of three.
Days 5 - 7
Dec 27- 29
The next morning we drove back into Paris, stopping off only for our mandatory gas station stop of loading up on French snacks for the car ride taste test. Our feast was Evian water (which delightfully is like France’s Dasani), vanilla coke, and roast chicken flavored potato chips, whose smell confused Kit greatly into thinking there was somehow a rotisserie chicken in the car.
Once we were back in town we stopped off at the hotel. We stayed at the Kimpton St.Honore, which is quite possibly home to the only people who love Kit as much as us. The moment we walked in almost every staff member flocked to us begging to pet him and hold him. We checked in and dropped our bags, then decided since Kit was so popular, to take him with us to the Galeries Lafayette. We stuffed him in a tote bag and made our way there on foot.
The Galeries, much like an American mall after Christmas day, were brimming with people. More than once we were smushed in a line to the escalators when a stranger would gingerly reach over and pet Kit. The French, I have decided, love dogs. Furthermore, it is a universal truth acknowledged that no one who loves dogs can be mean or evil.
Kit being the star of the show decided to stop in at Prada where he met a sales associate, named Alexia, who having bonded with him immediately, proceeded to carry him around the store showing him lots of doggy fashions. Eventually we all decided the red collar, being both smart and practical was a good choice for him. She later sent me an email telling me that Kit was her favorite customer she had ever had, and she hoped he would enjoy “his new necklace”.
After much more shopping we scheduled a dinner of non-French food, as we were a little burnt out on the rich, decadent meals. As every good young brown girl does, my first instinct was to try Indian/Pakistani style food in France, because when you are far away from home and your family, it’s all you can think about. I had heard about a French Indian fusion place I wanted to try in the 11th arrondissement, called Delhi Bazaar, and let me be the first to say that even though I am biased, this was easily my favorite meal. Indian and French food, not an obvious pairing, are delightful together. It was also reminiscent of my favorite restaurant in LA which is located in the arts district, Camphor, so naturally this place stood out to me.
The next day, our last full day in Paris was a blur, we went for long walks and found ourselves among smaller crowds since the holiday season had taken with it most of the tourists. We had breakfast at Carette, a tower of whip on chocolat chaud. We stopped in Ladurée to get a special box of the Paris Opéra ballet collaboration macaroons. We did some window shopping in the Place Vendôme. Visited some Paris thrift stores, probably my favorite thing to do in Paris, where I got a red silk bag made from old designer fabrics. Michael got a paisley green silk robe with red piping, which he says makes him look like a wealthy villain in a murder novel. We stopped off at Bältis, a family business of our friend Alexander’s. The Lebanese pistachio ice cream rolled in pistachios being the highlight.
Then after a full day of snacking on street food and sweets we decided to head back to the hotel and snuggle with Kit in the mountain of fresh linen in our suite. Naturally we snuck Kit back a piece of a French croissant, because it was too good not to share.
The next morning we headed home to Amsterdam. Leaving the sun filled rolling farmland of France for the gray and continuous rain of the Netherlands again. It’s funny driving between countries in a car, because the only real indication you have that you have left one place for the next is the weather and the gradual change of buildings. Stone to brick, wide to narrow, and then you are home again.
P.S. special shoutout to anyone who caught the multiple Sabrina quotes I laced throughout this article and to anyone who read this far - I hope you get the chance to see France as the French do.