Paris – An Assault to The Senses Part 2

The View From Ground Floor of GL
GL's spectacular dome
GL during Xmas night
Eating in GL's baby room

I take comfort in knowing that the week is over! It’s the weekend and my husband can take turns baby-sitting Sadia who, I might add, has been extra cranky, jumpy and clingy in her new environment. I also take comfort in digesting this bit of information – by January 2007, all the public areas in France (or is it just Paris?) will be off-limits to smokers. This is an added fillip for a possible repeat visit to Paris next year – that is, as wont, barring any fiscal and time constraints.

Since weekends are the only time we have as a family, we took the opportunity last Sunday to enjoy the sight and sound of Paris. Oh yes, our hotel is in one of the suburbs of Paris, somewhere in the locality of La Defense. Thoughtlessly, we had presumed that Paris wouldn’t have suburbs but just a sprawl of buildings upon buildings not unlike New York or London. How grievously wrong we had been!

Hence, the previous Sunday was purely allocated to spend the day in Paris. After asking directions from the nice gentleman (with good spoken English I might add – that’s another story) at the reception desk, we braved the elements. Strong wind howled and forcefully shook all the trees, hedges, undergrowth, petite people amongst others, in its path. There was only a smattering of raindrops but the wind effect caused them to assail us from every direction.

The alleged 10-minute walk to the RER (suburb elevated rail that turns into a subway in the city) station seemed endless in the ghastly weather. Luckily, we were quick on foot and managed to locate the station across a broad boulevard (not just straight up the road from the hotel as claimed by the hotel staff), which is in dire need of a pedestrian overpass. It was treacherous having to jay-walk to the other side of the road.

The rain had finally let up but it was still blustery as we waited for the train into town. It cost us each Euro2,70 for a one-way. Perhaps if we bought return it might be cheaper, no? The carriage of our choice was relatively empty. Similar to those subways you ride in the States, the train’s exterior is metallic but the seating arrangement differs in that most seats are constructed in a box-like manner with two front-facing seats lying across two opposite seats. We settled into a box already occupied by an old lady reading her dailies. Alas, Sadia became agitated with the noise the subway was making as it sped underground. Thank goodness the lady was a good sport and even shook her finger with Sadia’s cute, tiny digit.

We finally came to our stop Auber, where the Printemps department store stood in all its 43,000 square meter of glory! A massive crowd already flocked on what seems like every conceivable space inside the ground floor from which we came in. It’s nice that this train stop dedicates two exits for the two premier shopping places on Boulevard Haussman – Printemps and the beguilingly exquisite Galeries Lafayette.

Printemps was so big and confusing that we got lost merely trying to find a place to eat lunch! How nerve-racking. This was attributed to the fact that Printemps houses three separately buildings which are adjoined either at the ground floor or via flyovers on selected floors. With our almost non-existent French, we had problem reading the floor layout of these buildings and had to figure out for the longest time that they were in fact color-coded.

Having scurried to the cheapest available eating spot within the vast space, we finally sat down for lunch that consisted of two sucresants (a long, sugary stick – like those cheese sticks but sweet) and two cappuccinos. Long outings from the home always don’t go down so well with Sadia who became vocal and at intervals screaming (a new development, I must add) with the ‘over-stimulation.’ We also tried in vain to find the right time to go into the nursery cum baby room that was always full of people either changing diapers, giving food to their babies or just milling about in the room (I just added that last one as sarcasm, by the way).

I was exasperated and desperate however, that I plonked Sadia in my arms on a stool inside this big changing room reserved for expectant mothers, in the effort to nurse her to sleep. It didn’t happen however so we decided to exit the enormous shopping arena into Parisian streets. We went inside the four-storey building of The Gap, located across two streets from Printemps. Fashion-wise, the clothes don’t evolve much since my college stint, much to my disappointment. In fact, they were uninspiring. No wonder, Zara, Mango and H&M are more favored nowadays.

As we walked down the boulevard looking for familiar or interesting stores, Sadia finally slept inside her baby carrier. Which was so timely since we were drawn by the multitude of Sunday shoppers filling up the space outside of Galeries Lafayette’s Main Store. We entered the Men (Homme) Store first in a bid to outmaneuver the crowd packing the Main Store entrance and to preserve Sadia’s sleeping state. Like its rival Printemps, GL’s Men Store is also connected via an overpass to the Main Store. On the way to the flyover, we discovered a larger-than-life ‘marketplace’ retailing a variety of fresh produce and one-of-a-kind food items as well as selling food (gourmet or otherwise) to be consumed on the spot.

And what a breathtaking view it was when we stepped into to the Main Store! The Christmas decorations thoroughly livened up the place. A gigantic, glittery crystal-clear ball – a typical Christmas tree ornament – was suspended in the center of a magnificent ornate dome from which a series of colorful, kaleidoscopic images (winter motifs, butterflies, fairies, the like) were being projected. GL even devotes a ‘viewing balcony’ on each of the floor that faces the dome for people to take photos, lounge and drink free water from the water dispenser.

In view of the mob hoarding the scenic terraces, I didn’t have time to capture any photos but planned to come back just for that, perhaps today. We did however take some in the much more spacious (and relatively empty – yay!) baby room in GL when we gave Sadia her late afternoon snack.

I later found out GL, which boasts 10 floors of merchandise, is the largest shopping store in Europe! Wow, I was floored! It was also a great coincidence that we went there during the first Sunday in December since stores are closed on Sundays, except for the Christmas season.

I love GL much better than Printemps due to its beautiful façade and even more ravishing interiors. It is truly an architectural gem and a shopping paradise! What a delectable combo! The crowd wandering about outside the ground floor turned out to be looking and cooing at the wondrous Christmas child-like creations of eight window displays. It’s tradition, I’ve been told. We had to literally shove our way out of the imposing, unmoving human barricade.

Paris has been touted as the fashion capital of the world. A lack of traveling experience to Italy notwithstanding, I have to agree. Fashion and what more important is shopping! Here I was bemoaning the dearth of shopping places to visit in the Netherlands to be overwhelmed and assaulted by the extensive (almost infinite) range of selections in Paris. Indeed, I was rendered speechless. And this weekend to the Louvre and Eiffel Tower we go!

Paris – An Assault to The Senses Part 1

Why we woke up in the wee hours of the morning to prepare for a flight that last less than an hour is beside me. With stringent airport security and increasing flying risk, however, one can never be too careful.

Nonetheless, I loathe the fact of rushing from one location to another, especially now that we bring a baby along for the ride. The airport security forces in charge of checking the infamous carry-on transparent plastic bags were also no help in alleviating the burden. Since the EU regulations flyer that we obtained from my husband’s school didn’t actually specify the ‘ideal size’ of those darn transparent bags, we had to part with my daughter’s shampoo and bath gel!

While my husband was still unloading the laptops onto the conveyor belt for scanning, the lady who explained to me, bearing the name tag ‘Team Leader’, was officious and overbearing. My eyes, glazed from lack of sleep, pleaded to her good sense of judgment. It was to no avail. My husband then joined me to hear out the lady-guard’s mechanical explanation at the end of which she threw the beloved things into the heavy plastic trash container without hesitance or remorse.

I was peeved since we had purchased those things in Malaysia as they were cheaper compared to the Netherlands’, only for them to end up in a ruthless garbage disposal. And the reason given was because the two bottles were each 200ml in volume, not the permissible 100ml! What’s the difference? If terrorists were to hijack or do bodily harm, God forbid, to the aircraft, by hook or crook, they will each bring 100ml of ‘something’ separately! My annoyance gave way to pity after I saw a middle-aged lady squirted her Romance perfume one last time and nervously fiddled it with her hands, a gesture similar to someone having to unceremoniously part with a precious heirloom.

Air France was the airline of choice based on the pricing and timing of our trip. As we boarded the musty-smelling plane with chintzy upholstered seats, we were amused by the melancholic genre currently getting airplay (pun intended). You know, the pipe-in music they usually put on before taking off. The lyric, arrangement and rhythm (or lack thereof) of the songs were borderline suicidal! Oh well, at least laughing at its preposterousness soothed my frayed nerves.

Stragglers and rainy condition delayed the take-off but I slept a few winks only to be awakened by hubby who passed me the ‘meal’ on offering. A piece of cake, in plastic wrapper. Despite the measly one cake, I have to give credit that it was actually yummy.

After descending on Charles De Gaulle airport and whilst the airplane was taxing to its assigned gate, we saw, somewhere along the winding runway, a monument on which a gigantic (almost-to-scale) Concorde model was immortalized in a take-off pose.

Since Saturday’s Christmas shopping crowd would cramp the subways, we hailed a cab instead at the airport taxi stand. I could easily see that most people in the taxi queue were puffing away. My suspicion was further confirmed upon arriving at our hotel that boasts a smoking lounge cum lobby area. To make matters worse, our next-room neighbor likes to smoke his stash at night! Welcome to Paris! Bienvenue Vers Paris!

I am Marge?

Bonsoir mesdames et messieurs!

I'm in the city of love - with lucky, plucky Sadia - accompanying my husband for his classes! I will soliloquize about Gay Paree in the next blog entry. For now, do try out this personality test (or check out other tests on this site).....As for the test's results, I'm not sure about the 'good cooking' bit. Perhaps I haven't found my calling yet! ;-)

You Are Marge Simpson

You're a devoted family member who loves unconditionally. Sometimes, though, you dream about living a wild secret life! You will be remembered for: your good cooking and evading the police Your life philosophy: "You should listen to your heart, and not the voices in your head."

The Simpsons Personality Test

Introspection on a Beclouded Day

additions in italics

Grey sky blanketed our provincial backdrop as it would characteristically acquit itself at this time of the year. Save for the yapping siren of an ambulance in the distance, everything else was deafeningly silent.

Sadia just fell asleep for her mid-morning nap. As I gazed at the skylights overhead, knowing quite well of the dismal prospect for a sunny turn-around, I imagined myself on a chaise lounge by the seaside reading a page-turner of a novel taking in the magnificent blue-sky vista in front of me.

Thoughts over the azure horizon harked back to those carefree days in sunshiny California where fragrant sweet-smelling oranges always pervaded the crisp air. My mind then wandered pensively on the series of events that had occurred in the last decade or so.

My husband – the rational and logic-driven half of the equation – is a firm believer that some friendships run its course. On the other hand, being sentimental and histrionic in nature, I had refused to comprehend his reason for uttering such aphorism. In time, however, I understood where he was coming from.

Contemplation over sunny days, friendship and the past decade instantly brought me down the memory lane to a time when I attended a one-year college preparatory program in a quaint town in California. The program involved 30 eighteen-year-old Malaysians from various government, semi-government and private (oil) company sponsorships. I still couldn’t believe we were that young when we embarked on a new chapter in our lives. In reality, we were a bunch of wide-eyed teenagers, still developing our principles, discovering our moral compass and searching for our own place in this world.

With 21 guys and nine girls, the likelihood that some of them winding up as couples were high. At least, that was my deduction for the other girls but not for me. As forecast, I recall there being seven couples, excluding my ‘case’ since we remained ‘just friends’ back then. As for the other girl, she was more into Afro-American dudes ;-). Of the seven mentioned, only three ended up in matrimony while others broke up during college or after college.

Living away from your family for the very first time on a foreign soil has its share of pain, heartaches, joy and triumphs. Clashes of personality and juggling different facets of life with housemates and studies were some of the predicaments which befell me. Some people got territorial while others imposed their value systems on you, whether you like or not. At that age, peer pressures to conform and the desire to be accepted – sometime at any cost - were rife. If you are unfortunate, your self-identity might get swept away under the maelstrom of frustration, misguidance, and worst of all, substance abuse.

On a personal level, the most difficult aspect of adjusting was being alone. Always ensconced in the safety of my family home and inundated by familial truths had its repercussions. I didn’t like having to fend for myself, figuring out my ethical code and far more importantly, trying to suss out the nuances of other people’s chatter and behavior. In the past, I experienced a hard time achieving the right balance in the delicate art of ‘social interaction.’ I attributed it to my awkwardness and lack of tact in dealing with those outside my family circle. In essence, I didn’t want to grow up and assume responsibilities and consequences for my actions. Yet, amid the chaos, acclimatization and inner struggle, a few kind souls offered a helping hand and soothing companionship that were a God-sent! Of these, a small number turned into meaningful friendships with the rest appeared out of happenstance and disappeared thereafter without a single trace.

Now, looking back, the journey to self-discovery is far better when maneuvered on your own. Yes, you will experience the greatest of agony but you will also come out of the shambles stronger and wiser. Also, along the way of attaining personal growth, you are bound to relapse in your judgment and suffer grave consequences. You might lose a friend or two as a result or realize that you are no longer, for a variety of reasons, on the same frequency with old friends. Bearing this evolution in mind, I now know why some (former) friends continue to ‘haunt’ you with what-ifs whereas others simply vanish from your passing fancy.

Of course, at 30-odd years old, it is safe to say many areas are still in great need for improvement and weeding out. With a new maternal role added to the fold, I find myself slowly letting go of certain hang-ups and prioritizing my baby’s welfare, above all others (after hubby gave the greenlight, that is :-) ).

In the interest of preserving their privacy, I’d like to thank these 29 individuals (hubby likewise) for being a crucial part of my post-adolescent life. We may not be in speaking terms anymore, or treading on another’s path anytime soon, but for a fleeting moment – as picturesque and idyllic as the cerulean sky of the sea under which we gathered for a fond farewell – I’d like to think of us all as being the best of friends.