Travels with Harold

Last night, we got all bundled up and walking around Ghent’s historically preserved city center. We delighted in the lights sparkling off the canal, the new, cute, modern shops installed in baroque buildings, and enjoyed dinner and drinks on the heated patio of a busy restaurant by the canal.

Swirling around in the street lights between our hotel and the building across the street, we saw what might be snow. We fully expected to awake to a white city…but alas, it was too warm and the snow hadn’t stuck.
Well, today, “too warm” wasn’t a problem. After a lovely breakfast at the hotel, we braved the chilly air and went to St. Bavo’s Cathdral, THE biggest thing in town. It was an amazing, ornate, complicated, historic,
artistic, church. Every inch, it seemed, was filled with wooden, stone or bronze sculpture, carving, patterns, or inscriptions. It was a few hours before we could feel that we had even seen enough to call it a ‘once over’ .
As we left the church (which I have not done justice to here) we saw that it was snowing for real…and we were cold from spending hours in the unheated St. Bavo’s. Just outside the door, underneath the optimistically still-running Giant Ferris Wheel of the Christmas Market, we found a cafe and enjoyed smoked salmon on toast, braised apples, ice cream , and “Belgian Coffee”, made with “Janever”‘, the Belgian edition of gin. Tasty!
What made it especially enjoyable was the good service of our waiter Michael and our window seats, which allowed us to enjoy the blustery snow without feeling its sting. We learned that in Ghent public schools, kids learn French beginning at age 8 and English at age 11.
To close our afternoon adventure, we walked to the Cloth Hall ( Ghent became a powerhouse due to the 15th century textile industry). The snow continued , so we didn’t feel any desire to go up the steps of the tower, but enjoyed the murals and cartoons on display in the relative warmth on the ground floor. The sun has set now, and we are warmed up and rested, ready to go see some more!

It was an early start in Paris… 7:30 am. It was the earliest revelry we experienced while staying in The City of Light… Which, by the way, it doesn’t get light out until about 8am. Anyhow, we put ourselves together, tidied up the apartment and headed out to Gare du Nord, by way of taxi. Trains are so efficient in Europe. And after a cafe creme across the street from the station, we were on our way to Ghent, changing trains in Brussels. Harold loves the train, especially when he can sit in the window and watch the fields and windmills go by.

By noon, we were in Ghent… And it was a very short time later that we were checked into our centrally located hotel and enjoying a Somersby cider and a bowl of hot mushroom soup by a fire. The Christmas market, cathedral, Ghent Altarpiece and winding canals are all on the list of activities that we will get up to. But already, I like it here. Harold agrees…

Oh, and we love & will miss you, Paris. Xoxoxo.

It turns out, come Christmas Eve, Paris goes very, very quiet. Walking home from an old fashioned Christmas eve mass, there was almost no one about…you could walk down the middle of the Rue Beaumarchais in complete safety. Such a surprise, for a city of millions of people.
The mass itself was in the smallish, simple church of St. Denys on Rue st. Claude. I am not fluent in either Catholic or French, but with a written programme in my hands I could sing along, when singing was called for. The incense was heavy, hearts were light, children sleepy and handshakes accompanied by warm smiles.
Such a sweet, soft end to a dash-about season.
This morning, Christmas morning, Harold surprised us with a card and breakfast of pastries from the local patisserie, candles and gifts. Such a sentimental stufftie.
Merry Christmas, everyone, from all of us. And Harold.

We have been reading about the Marches de Noel…the French Christmas markets, and been dying to see one.
Our mental picture was of a quaint collection of stalls hosting hand-made goodies from local artisans…but we opted to walk across town to the largest one, which starts at the Place de Concorde and runs up both sides of the Champs Élysées to the Arc de Triumph. A conservative estimate puts this at 2 miles of stalls, all brightly lit and stuffed with all kinds of things, and crowded to the breaking point with people.
Wooden toys and lovely local wares, to be sure, but also iPhones, sneakers, blankets, you name it. It felt like a combination county fair, farmer’s market, and street fair. There were pony rides, carnival rides and games, wine and beer booths, and street musicians. After eating entirely too much and walking our feet off, we hailed a cab back to the Marais, had a good night glass of wine and calvados, and retired to the apartment, where Harold had wisely remained, to heal up for morning.

When we last visited the Picasso Museum in 2008, it was under construction … And it then closed altogether for further remodeling. It was our good fortune that it just reopened in October of this year. The museum seemed to ramble … With rooms that opened into weird spaces… But after some thought… It was just like Picasso himself… Unpredictable and unconventional. Harold decided to stay back at the apartment as he was still jetlaggy. I don’t think he would’ve liked being out in the cold weather today anyhow; we did a lot of hoofing. Alors, Here’s some of the footage from today’s museum venture.

The French have a phrase that translates to “licking the windows” … I know how to do this… It’s a fancy term for window shopping… The Parisian shop windows are dressed up extra nice for Christmas… The chocolate shops especially where most of the window licking occurs. There are wreaths & Christmas trees at flower shops, sparkly lights on buildings and small tiny flocked trees inside the cafes and restaurants. I even heard Christmas carols on the Jazz station while we were having lunch. The evenings have been crisp… And so it feels like winter as we walk the crowded streets filled with holiday shoppers.

Our Dear Stuffed Pal, Harold is a jumble of nervousness, excitability, and silly. He keeps going back and forth as to whether he wants to bring his beret. It doesn’t fit in his backpack very well. He also told me that he is looking forward to having a spot of mulled wine whilst strolling the Christmas markets. I asked him what else he was looking forward to…? He said he’d love to see snow. He’s never seen snow before, and this would be a real highlight to the trip. Here’s hoping for a white Christmas, Harold!