not your usual travel journal - PART 3

CLICK ALL PICTURES TO APPRECIATE

Part 1

Part 2



The Musee Rodin

The next three days in Paris was a dizzying succession of museums after restaurants after obscure street names. We were thrown in what seemed like a nonspatial confusion of buses that didn't arrive on time and signs that didn't make sense. Within 48 hours, though, we got the hang of it. Finding places became much easier. We endured queues to practically every touristy spot you can think of. We also got lost in the city's many narrow streets in search of Paris' "best baguette," and found ourselves lingering over hot chocolate in Le Cafe Pure. One afternoon, we somehow managed to get lost in the middle of the immigrant district, which resembled the local Divisoria.


"Best Baguette in Paris" Awardee

I didn't have time to write about everything, and the pictures - well, those I would really like to keep private, for MSP and I to enjoy. They remind us of chaos dotted by calm walks along the Seine river at 10pm - an experience that's only ours. No matter how disappointing the city, we would always have Paris :) The next entries were written using this Asus EEE laptop (which is my travel laptop) usually as they happen, or a few hours after.

* * * *

May 25, 2009

“On the way to Nice, Canne, and Monaco”

4:00 pm

I'm on a train to Nice from Paris. It will be a six-hour ride. Jonas is sleeping, as always. I thought the train would be romantic, but it's not. The coffee cart is closed. People aren't that beautiful. Balding men, crying babies. I'm so bored.

The Gare Lyon station, where we took our train from Paris to Nice

Paris was underwhelming. It felt a bit contrived, like sentences rewritten to sound better. Champs-Elysees was polished to perfection, but the rest of the city was swarmed with underpaid immigrants / vandalized walls / dingy subways. The native French and the unwelcome colored people walk around each other, never quite meeting. I don't have to understand French to know they despise each other.

It is a city of tourists; it is for people who want romance so bad, they can find it in this dirty city. If you are pragmatic, then nothing of Paris is charming. The Notre Dame, the Eiffel – every supposedly historical site has been turned into an amusement park ride, with mile-long queues and 8-euro entrance fees to complete the experience. France's national income must be 80% from gullible tourists, 18% from Louis Vuitton, and 2% from truffles.

We paid P500,000 to see this part of the world. So far, only the museums have been worth the trip. This is turning out to be a bad investment.

* * * *

View from the bullet train / French countryside

We're exactly halfway between Paris and Nice now, three hours from each city. Out the window there is a castle on a hill. It overlooks the little cabins for peasants, just a few kilometres from a suspicious-looking factory. Welcome to the French countryside.

* * * *

At almost 11:30pm - an hour later than our scheduled time of arrival - we are finally in Nice. Never trust the French train system. Something ALWAYS goes wrong. To save money, we decide to walk from the station to the hotel. The scale of the map makes it seem doable; it is only after 20 minutes of walking - heavy bags slung on our shoulders - that we realize we should have coughed up the 10 euros and taken the cab, or at least the tram. And then it just appears on the forked road - Hotel Harvey. There is a Quick outlet right in front of it, where we buy an unhealthy dinner of burgers and fries. We are too tired to eat out. Nice will have to wait until tomorrow. The hotel is a dump, but livable. It doesn't matter now.

* * * *

May 28, 2009

The South of France is a laid back version of Paris,where everything is cheaper and people are warmer. It's quite a kick just sitting out in our balcony and watching this little city tick. And with the beach literally steps away, MSP couldn't be happier.

One of the public beaches in Nice, France

We could almost smell Italy from here (the Italian border is just one hour away by train). On most days we just eat authentic Italian pastas and pizzas from the neighboring ristorantes. We also feast on authentic BRETON crepes and $6 bottles of wine, which were surprisingly very good.

On the jampacked local bus to Cannes two days ago, MSP and I didn't get to sit together. A half-French half-Tunisian guy ended up sitting next to me, and he wasted no time chatting me up. He told me about his home in Cannes, his wife, and his daughter. I told him about our European adventure and about the Philippines. We also talked about food. All of this we did even though he spoke no English, and I spoke no French. Thank you, THE WORDLESS TRAVEL BOOK.

We got to Cannes a day after the Festival, so the festive mood was still palpable despite the lack of celebrity sightings. The drizzle didn't help. We wore raincoats throughout our walking trip.

The day after Cannes, we decided to hop on a bus to Monaco just to see the Palais Princier. Did you know that literally EVERYONE is Monaco is a millionaire? That's because even the smallest apartment here is worth at least 1 million Euros, and all Monegasques own their homes. That's the beauty of being born in the world's biggest tax haven. This hedonist city-state can make you feel poor.


View of Monaco from the Palace



Yacht club

In between, we basked in the Mediterranean sea, took strolls along Nice's quaint old-world streets, and enjoyed little treats (like real gelato).


Rose gelato

We managed to figure out how the tram works. Shopping was tempting and very high-end (there's a Chanel, Hermes, and Loewe near the beach), but we only stocked up on H&M and Longchamp - both of which are remarkably cheap here. Just practical stuff. (I have lost interest in shopping).


While MSP swam, I sat around, dipped my toes, read books.

* * * *

Tomorrow, we get on a train to Spain.

Espana, here we come :)

who is the middle class filipino / pinoy?

We interrupt the travel journal series for some interesting data from the National Statistical Coordination Board. You can read the entertaining article here, or if you're lazy, just read my summary below.

- To be considered middle-class in 2009, you must earn between P 282,158 to P 2,296,582 a year

Quote:

"In 2006, the middle income class may be defined as those families with annual income ranging from P246,109 to P2,000,072. However, in 2008, a family needed an income that ranged from P276,626 to P2,251,551 to be considered middle class. And in 2009, you would need to earn close to half a million pesos (mean/median income) to be in the middle class."


Picture from Business Week (Philippines), "Middle Income Housing"



- The average middle-class family earns P 529,483 a year

- As of 2006, the average middle-class savings is P 100,047. The lowest savings rate is P 5,997, and the highest in the middle class was P 1,435,053.

- In 2006, 19% of Filipinos were middle class. This was BEFORE the crisis, of course.

- "Between 1997 and 2006, ownership by the Pinoy Middle Class of DVD/VCD/VTR/VCR and air conditioning unit rose from 48.7% to 86.2% and from 9.8% to 28.6%, respectively. (Is it the middle class that supports the proliferation of illegal, pirated videos in Quiapo?"

not your usual travel journal - PART 2

(PART ONE is available here.)

* * * *

May 21, 2009

"The First Day"

9:30am

We arrive in Hotel Berne, a three-star hotel in the Opera area. While it's clearly more posh than a hostel, it is small and has that bed-and-breakfast feel. This Hausmann building was probably a high-end apartment complex before it became a hotel.

There are no bell boys here; you carry your own luggage to your room, and the elevator can only fit two people (with two carry ons). Nevertheless it is quite lovely, and is very near Rome station on Line # 2 (Porte Dauphine-Nation), providing direct access to the Arc de Triomphe-Champs Elysées station Europe Line # 3 (Pont de Levallois-Gallieni). That means we are about 1.20 euros away from everything.

Our room is more spacious than we expected. There is a big bed plus a sofa by the window, where we sit for a whole hour to soak in the view and get our bearings straight. The street was quite narrow, so we can peek into the homes of locals living in the residential building in front of us.

Households in central Paris are mostly single-occupant dwelling. Apartments are minuscule, much like condominiums in Metro Manila. (Suddenly, our pad doesn't seem so small). In one of the verandas we see a stylish woman washing clothes. Out the gate below goes a car (a compact Renault). The driver is probably late for work. Not that he should be worried. The French are known to "work to live" rather than "live to work." They are slaves for only 35 hours a week (no overtime), and get about 9 weeks of paid vacation every year. Shops close early (compared to Spain or to the Philippines), and work starts late. Without the pressure to make and spend money, Parisians have more time to build and enjoy relationships, sit pointlessly in cafes for hours, and basically just be "French."

*CLICK PICTURE TO SEE INSIDE THE WINDOWS*



It is while looking at this view that MSP gives me a 36-diamond Tiffany celebration ring, which he hid carefully in his jacket. The ring, he says, is a celebration of our eight years, of the dreams we realized, and of our future. It is now official: We would travel the world together, I as the official translator, and he as the map-and-compass reader :) We would never get lost.

10:00 am

The front desk tells us that today is actually a holiday, and that only the Louvre and the restaurants are open.

With nothing much to do, we just walk around the Montmartre area to get a sense of our base in the city. The weather was nice and cold. We are literally on a hill in Paris, so it is chilly. I wish out loud that summer doesn't rear its head just yet. I want to enjoy spring.

We are standing in Opera. This formerly bohemian town is now filled with touristy attractions, not the least of which is Moulin Rouge (in boulevard de Clichy). But it wasn't so long ago that artists like Picasso and Van Gogh roamed the streets. I could almost imagine them tucked in one of the apartments, with the easels, going mad.

11:15am

The Paris metro is dingy and inefficient. The French may be great lovers, but they clearly aren't the best engineers. Signs contradict each other. Tunnels lead to unexpected platforms. Even Columbus could get lost here.

I expected "first-world" trains and waiting areas, but got ghetto instead. Coaches are mostly old and unstable. There was graffiti everywhere (as always).

*CLICK PICTURE TO APPRECIATE*


(Click to enlarge and see how dingy it is.)

Parisians are beautiful, however. They are slim, chic, and carry themselves well. They smell odd, but if you don't breathe, they are poetry in motion.

11:30am

We somehow figure out how to navigate the metro and find ourselves in our first touristy district: the Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Elysees, and Grands Boulevards area. Countless domestic dogs and their owners walk the street. The book says about 200,000 of these pets live in the city, which may explain the smell. I am just guessing here, but I think dogs outnumber children.

We have only half a day today, and we decide to get the shopping and touristy dining out of the way. Tomorrow we could be more "local," but for now, we would be tourists. Filipino tourists.

12:00 noon

And what do Pinoy tourists in Paris do? They eat.

Lunch was at the pricey La Maison de la Truffe (19 place de la Madeleine). We stand out front at first to check out what they sell.

*CLICK PICTURE TO SEE PRICE OF A KILO OF TRUFFLES*





Inside, the place is divided into two: a takeaway store, and a formal restaurant. The English-speaking waiter leads us to a nice table.

We go for the big time and order the elusive black diamond truffles sprinkled generously on ravioli and veal. The bill is 88 euros for two (no wine), and is totally worth it. We'll have to eat cheaply in the next days, but what the heck. We already paid too much to be here; we might as well stuff ourselves with expensive Parisian food.

1:00pm

After a very short walk outside, we see the Eglise de la Madeleine, which is styled like a Greek temple (complete with 52 Corinthian columns). Unfortunately the church is closed, so we couldn't see the frescoes, marble, and gilt decor in the interior.




A nice Parisian man offers to take our picture, but we do not need help. We have Joby :)

1:10pm

The jet lag + time difference is kicking in. We figure we need sugar and head to Fauchon.

*CLICK PICTURE TO SEE LOCALS EATING*


This black-and-fuchsia shop sells melt-in-your-mouth macaroons in the most inventive flavors. I could live here.



*CLICK PICTURE TO TASTE THE MACAROONS*


We eat the macaroons right outside the shop the moment we step out.

2:00pm

After more walking we stumble upon the Triangle d'Or, home to the historic haute couture flagships.

I am truly OVER shopping. Hong Kong still has THE best discounts even on French brands, after all. And shopping is boring now. I don't get as amused as I used to. But we're here anyway, so we might as well check out Chanel, Dior, Lacroix, Comme des Garcons, Givenchy, Hermes, Gaultier, Lanvin, YSL, and of course, Louis Vuitton. MSP's mom wants us to buy her one of the many LV bags. I am ashamed to even be in the store along with logo-hungry tourists (mostly Japanese), but what can I do? I get the bag she wants, patiently wait in line to pay, and hurry out. I make a mental note of just how much time we wasted queuing for the bag.

3:30pm

We walk around the extremely capitalist Champs-Elysees and its surrounds. I do not see locals - just foreigners everywhere. Interestingly, Parisians don't seem to be interested in the luxury labels they export.

Just when we thought Paris has turned into one big mall for gullible tourists, we see an antique street market - certainly a nice break from all the big brands in the other street. Here I buy vintage postcards to give to my friends.



4:30pm

The line to the top of the Arc de Triomphe (place Charles de Gaulle) is quite long, so we decide to just take pictures outside and come back tomorrow, when we already have the all-access pass.

We just sit under the Arc, read names after names, watch a military rite being performed, and observe other tourists.




This monument was constructed to commemorate Napoleon's victory at Austerlitz in 1805. It stands right in the centre of Etoile, the world's BIGGEST roundabout. To get to it, you need to the take the underground pedestrian tunnels, which are oddly enough not connected to the metro tunnels. (Inefficient).

6:00pm

It is time to deal with the Paris metro again. The confusing tunnels that lead to multiple platforms, violin-playing beggars, broke tourists asking for train money - only in Paris, I tell you. Of the very few ticket dispensing machines, only one is working. Take me back to Manila.

Here in the madness of the subway, we meet an intellectual gone mad. She is about 45 years old and has a big bag with her. She looks like she hasn't showered in days, but this is not enough to indicate that she is crazy (many normal Parisians do not shower). However, she has really bad shoes and scratches her head like a kooky. Something about the shift in her eyes tells us she's a lunatic.

She approaches me speaking French. When I tell her that I don't understand and ask (in broken French) if she speaks English, she replies:

"I am sorry. I was just asking if it was possible to get 50 cents from you." (Exact words.)

I am awed. The FIRST Parisian to ever speak to me in straight English, with perceptible but minimal French accent. Unfortunately I do not have 50 cents, and I have to turn her down.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she says right away. A very cultured, very strange lady. I hold on to my Prada. She walks away.

MSP and I exchange curious glances.She then approaches three Spanish teens, also asking for 50 cents, this time speaking in Spanish.

AMAZING.

She must have approached five more people speaking in tongues. A linguist gone mad. I never thought I'd ever meet one.

6:05pm

Two drunk Parisians jump the turnstile. Apparently this is a normal occurrence, as locals do not seem bothered at all.

The metro can be a very scary place. Were it not for the comforting nonchalance of people who ride it everyday, we would fear for our lives.

Next stop: St-Germain des Pres.

6:10pm

I am shutting down. I have slept only 45 minutes in almost two days, and I am starting to dream while I sit on this broken-down bench. In the freaking metro. In the bowels of Paris. MSP props me up, putting his finger in my ear from time to time. He is convinced that annoying me will wake me up. He hardly succeeds.

6:30pm

There she is: Cafe Le Flore. Built in the 1880's, this was where Sartre and de Beauvoir set up office during the Nazi regime. It's quite pricey but definitely less touristy than the cafe beside it (Les Deux Magots). Besides, The Barefoot Contessa recommended that we try the hot chocolate and omelet for dinner. That's why we are here.



We order two types of omelet, some fresh pomelo juice for our immune systems, and hot chocolate. The nice waiter gave us free salad. The bill was around 30 euros. Not bad at all, considering the quality and quantity of cheese in each bite.

7:00pm

I am convinced that I will die in the metro. We get a little lost (again), and I am running on emergency battery. I do not die, of course, and about 20 minutes later, we are back in Rome station. Home sweet home. Shower, change into my big shirt, sleep.

10:00pm

I am awake again. Why is the sun still up? In Europe, it never seems to set. We better close the curtains.

Half asleep, I plan out the next three days.

On Sunday we'll check out Marche Aux Puces de St Ouen and enjoy a local meal in Chez Louisette. But tomorrow, we better get the "big" things done - the Louvre, and the Eiffel. Then the Sacre Couer, then Dali Espace. We'll eat in the "best baguette in Paris" awardee resto, see Musee d'Orsay, the Grand Palais. Maybe we'll take the Seine cruise, and buy a book in Shakespeare and Company. We'll visit the Notre Dame, Sorbonne, Bastille Opera, eat felafels, find the Musee Picasso, Musee Rodin, and Le Cafe Pure (that cafe in "Before Sunset,"). I already saw the hop-on/off bus to take us to all these places.



For less then 30 euros each, it promises to take us to all the essential places in two days. Will it arrive on time? Will it arrive at all? I have no faith in the French transport system.

Back to sleep. The converted wine cellar in the basement offers a decent breakfast buffet starting at 7am. I can't wait.

To be continued

not your usual travel journal - PART 1

June 4, 2009

This is a travel journal written semi backwards. Blame me for not keeping track of the most important trip of my life so far. I only got this 3-euro Miquelrius notebook yesterday at one of the many El Corte Ingles stores in the chic Serrano area, Madrid. Now I sit in the Van Gogh cafe in Moncloa, recapturing two weeks, nine cities. How do I start? I can't even understand my own handwriting.

May 20, 2009

“Getting There – MLA to BKK to CDG”

11:30 pm

The Bangkok airport is just like Manila's. Security is strict, and the transfer gates are easy to find. In the waiting area, we start to look like “minorities.” Everyone on this flight is white, except for a Thai lady wearing too much makeup. The room is filled with Europeans on their way home and some Australians on a connecting flight to Paris, like us.

Flying economy is no joy ride. I am not getting any sleep. Meanwhile, MSP is sleeping like a dog (he's talented that way). The French man behind me has his light on. He's reading a big book and encircling words with a pencil. The French woman in front wipes her armpit with baby wipes. The Thai airplane smells French. It's going to be a long flight.

May 21, 2009

“We Are in Paris”

7:30am

The CDG is an old airport. If it were in Manila, it would be called UGLY and SO-THIRD-WORLD, but this is Paris, where everything is “charming.”

Immigration is surprisingly lenient. There are no swine flu checks. We are never asked why our Schengen visas are Spanish.

Language instantly becomes a problem. We don't speak a word of French, and locals (even airport officials) don't speak a word of English. It takes us a while to find the train that links to the city. When we finally board one of the coaches, it becomes apparent why tourists are never made to take this train. It passes by the “real Paris” - those areas they never tell you about in glitzy brochures.

CLICK PICTURE TO ENLARGE - The "real" France, as seen from the train

8:20

This train ride should take 40 minutes. We are with locals on their way to work. Some are immigrants reluctantly heading to the grind of the city center. A few of them look at us curiously (what are these Asian tourists doing on this train? Don't they take the tour bus?), but most are apathetic. Today is their everyday; this is our once-in-a-lifetime.

To be continued

the euro leap

Six cities, four travel books, one carry-on bag.



I hope I can get some sleep in the plane.

luxury pod in london

Most of you know that I love small-ish spaces, and that I myself live in a tiny, efficient condo (322 sq feet). It's tight but it feels much more spacious because there's a lot of light in the AM and because the appliances are compact. Also, what it lacks in size, it makes up for in touches of luxury -- Egyptian cotton, hotel-grade sofas, engineered efficiency. Still a work in progress, but getting there :)

Well, they now have a term for small spaces like mine: "luxe pods." Apparently, this small-space trend has been quite popular in London for some time. Here's a London luxury pod - just ONE THIRD of the size of mine! Amazing!



I dont know about sleeping in a tiny "loft" (her bed is right on top of her door). I value my big bed. But still, given the square footage, this space is very cool.

Apartment Therapy interviewed the owner. Here are excerpts:

Name: Judith
Location: London, UK
Size: 101 sf
Rent/Own: Own

What is the advantage of SMALL? Small gives one the chance to use truly luxurious items. One can experiment with a range of innovative materials, such as leather floor tiles, highly reflective surfaces, painted glass, combinations of lighting effects and to source specialists to create bespoke pieces. If all goes wrong it is only 101sq feet to remedy (9.5 sq metres)! The challenge is to indulge the individual so much, that the size of the space becomes immaterial. It is the form and function of the space that outweighs the size.

Judith's kitchen (pictures below) looks a lot like mine.

My refrigerator and freezer are also tucked under the counter. I have a bar sink and induction stove, too.

how are you doing financially?

There's a fun CNN money quiz here. You may have to convert your values to US dollars to get accurate results.

I got a pathetic B+.

How did you do?

the costs of living "extremely well"

Ever wonder how much money you need to have in order to "live extremely well"? To measure this, economists use several indicators, such as Gucci loafers, Pratesi linen, a lavish dinner for two, and beluga caviar, among others. The changes in the price tags of these items illustrate the ever-rising costs of living the rich life. Forbes' eye-opening index is here. It's rather dated, but still interesting. There's a more recent index here - and it's very visual, too.

Financial maturity, or just plain maturity

If there's anything I have learned in the last two years, it's frugality. Some people think I spend a lot, but I really don't. My things are expensive, true, but they last. And more importantly, I use them to death. Nothing is redundant, so all the designer things I own get aired out (too often).

My realization is this: "Having the money for it" and "affording it" are two very different things.

For example, having enough money to buy an Hermes bag is not the same as being able to afford an Hermes bag. If you have only P700,000 in your bank account, then technically, you HAVE THE MONEY for the Hermes. However, you CAN'T AFFORD the Hermes, because you would go bankrupt if you bought it.

Five years ago, I spent all of my money on things I thought I could afford, but didn't. I had virtually no savings, but I had a fully paid for second hand car, a designer handbag, and a big mortgage. I was 23 then, and that's normal I guess.

I don't regret it; in fact, I am thankful I learned all those financial lessons early. The demons are still there (buy that Goyard!) but I have kept a lid on most of them. For now, at least.

"You don't lose anything when you travel"

Over dinner the other night, I talked to my friends about the very real, very scary costs of leisure travel. To prepare them for the Euro tour later in the year, I told them exactly how much my upcoming trip would cost: almost P500,000 for two people, including some pocket money. Here is the breakdown:

Hotels - P131,000

Airfare (including fuel surcharges, Euro taxes, Philippine taxes, etc) - P113,000

Eurail tickets (for five destinations) - P45,000

Visa application fee and travel insurance - P15,000

Pocket money based on average needed in Paris - P150,000 (around EUR 2,400+)

Extra "emergency" money (on top of emergency credit card) - P50,000

GRAND TOTAL: P504,000 FOR TWO PEOPLE

I told my friends about how sad I was about the costs of this vacation, as it's been the most expensive MSP and I will take so far. Half a million is no joke. It takes us months to save that amount. Thinking about it made me a bit nauseous. I was losing money.

But Barry said something very interesting.

"You don't lose anything when you travel."

Makes sense (though our bank accounts don't think so). I'm still reeling about the travel expenses (all of which have been paid now, so there's no turning back), but the excitement of seeing Europe is much bigger than my "buyer's remorse."

So when it was drizzling this morning, I decided to pack.

I travel light, so I will only take a handcarry and a handbag. Unbelievable? Well, believe it. I'm taking on Paris, the south of France, Monaco, Barcelona, and Madrid with just one bag for clothes, and another handbag for the laptop, chargers, and travel books/maps. NO CHECK IN LUGGAGE. I hate waiting for bags.

I made all of these wool tops, a coat, a raincoat, several tank tops and shorts, a swimsuit, scarves, wool socks, flat shoes, swine flu masks, etc etc etc....



Fit into this



The secret is THERMAL WEAR. No need to bring lotsa bulky coats and sweaters :)


*Sorry for the dark pictures. It was really dark outside, and I don't use the lights in the morning. FRUGAL! :)