Medievalists Wore Prada

Looking through my photos, I found an inordinate number of shots of men’s shoes! Odd, eh? Unless you’re a shoe salesman. However, when Mary and I landed at Heathrow for a long layover, our flight from L.A. being hours late in leaving, we had nothing better to do than walk around (with our heavy backpacks) and look at the shop windows.

Note: At least Heathrow has shops, lots of them. L.A.’s Bradley International terminal is the dullest place you’d ever want to be delayed for four hours – or, as happened to the boys from Scotland, nine hours! There’s nothing to see, nothing to buy, nothing to eat, nothing, period.

Prada’s windows looked elegant. I took pix and we went inside to see up close these wonders for the richly heeled. It wasn’t hard to notice an oddity – the toes seemed at least an inch or more too long for whatever foot would enter that shoe. But, oh, the leather was elegant, the soles thin as paper, the saleslady indulgent of us.

Later, as we sat watching the crowds and resting our packs on the floor, I was startled to see picture number two repeated many times! Look! The toes are so long they curl up, almost as extreme as in medieval paintings where the man’s shoe is so long that the toe has to be tied up to the knee with ribbons.

Honestly, we were astonished that men would wear such silly looking shoes. At Notre Dame the next day, we met several Italian boys, students, and asked them if it was the fashion in Italy. They laughed and denied it. They, of course, wore the European version of Nikes.

As we went around France, however, we saw that long toes were definitely in, especially for those who looked like businessmen or maybe lawyers.

Note the gladiator sandal. Then note the number of women’s shoes in the same style 2000 years later, both the heeled and flat versions.

The athletic shoes for men are much more stylish than our “pillow” shoes, though the thin soles must be harder on the feet, I reckon, if you’re walking miles over cobblestones. The term “Pillow shoe” comes from a book about a mass murderer in Florence, Italy. The author and his co-author friend sat at the outdoor café identifying as Americans everyone who sported a thick, soft-soled, puffy-top, huge pillowy shoe (L.A. Gear, Reebok, Nike, Sketchers, you name it).

Look at the variety of athletic shoes available in all colors! The young men wear them in vibrant pinks, reds, blues, greens, yellows. Lots more color than in the U.S. While we’re at it, I’m including a picture of men’s shirts – color here, too. And laces for dress shoes in neon-brights.

The women of Paris are being courted to buy ruffles – dresses, blouses all ruffled up, down, and around. Outside of Paris, not so much, and in Germany, not at all. So if you want ruffles, you can have them or not.

As fun as it was to look in the shop windows, the prices are horrible, especially with the weak dollar. Prices are nicely printed on cards below the display. As a Ross and Marshall's shopper, I have a low idea of what things should cost. Want to guess what European prices are like? Multiply by three or five or more, whatever your latest purchase was.

To recover, buy a hot chocolate or milk at the nearby cafe, sit at an outdoor table, and enjoy watching the crowds pass by for hours. No waiter will shoo you away.

Beginning with Food

I finally found the first disk of photos so now you can enjoy my delightful discovery of the patisserie (pastry shop) only two blocks from our Paris hotel. Is it any wonder I succumbed? They also sell bread, which, joined with soft, flavor-full cheeses and some pate, makes a perfect sandwich. Along that short block, we could buy fruit, fish, deli things with no name, sausages, vegetables. On one day there was even an outdoor market.

Do you know the English film “Enchanted April?” Four women rent a villa on the Italian coast to escape the rain and gloom of London. The trip there is long, cold and wet. They arrive by buggy at night, suspecting that the whole thing was a mistake and that they should have stayed home. The next morning, early, one of them wakes and opens up her shuttered window onto sunshine, singing birds, flowers, and the glorious Mediterranean below. It is April in Italy. For us, it was April in Paris.

After arriving on the 5^th at Orly outside of Paris, finding the Metro (subway), climbing with our backpacks up and down interminable corridors and stairs in the Metro, asking questions, following directions, we finally llimped into the Hotel du Commerce. It’s a small hotel on a tiny street on the Left Bank. Hauling ourselves up three narrow winding stairways cloaked in darkness (later we found the light switch), and down a one-person hallway, we found our 8 x 18 ft. inexpensive ($50 a night for two) room.

Opening the door, here’s what greeted us: Bright colors, one bed large enough for two, a sink, and a tall screenless window opening to an unencumbered view of our part of town. Across the way, apartments with balconies full of flowers and trees; on the street below, students sitting outside the bars talking and smoking. Cars managjing somehow to go both ways on the street, missing trucks and bicyclists.

The toilet is down the hall, just like home, and the shower is downstairs near the reception desk, not quite like home but it was OK. The breakfast room (pictured) was bright and happy. Several times we did our shopping then brought it back here to eat. I felt as if I was in a scene from the opera, “La Boheme,” or the movie, “Gigi.”

At the desk, you see Laurent, our charming and helpful host..

This gentle little corner of Paris was the perfect place for us to begin our lightly-planned adventure.

I'm Baaaack!

My version of French bread is baking in the oven, sending Paris aromas all over the house. It may not rival the baker [right] in Tours, seen making croissants, but who cares? I even have some goat cheese (chevre) to put on it. One Paris salad added a tiny touch of honey on small rounds of toast with hot cheese on top surrounded by lettuce, nuts, olives. It was superb!

What does this mean, starting out my very first blog in five weeks with food? No big deal. It simply means that the food was stupendous. In spite of consuming all the creamy cheeses and patisserie I could, I was thrilled to weigh myself this morning and find I’d lost a half pound! It was all the walking every day, probably eight to ten hours a day. Not hard walking, but being up and about as opposed to home-based sitting at the computer for too many hours.

Speaking of computers, how delightful to be back on my own computer! There were NO internet cafes open. Most have gone over to providing video games for the young, since everyone (except me) has a laptop and WiFi is everywhere. I will never again go traveling without some means of connecting with the internet.

Even though I wasn’t able to post daily or weekly, I’m going to catch you up by writing several times a week. They won’t be travelogues or even in order, but you’ll be able to share in the adventure and see the photos (a select number of the almost 1000, which seemed like a lot to me, a former film user. In those days, we were super careful about what we shot since there would only be, say, 36 pictures per roll. One daughter has a friend who takes almost that many in only two days! Times have changed for the better. Among my thousand are a few really nice ones.)

The Bass shoes held and were comfy all the way. An inch-long opening came when some stitching tore out, but super glue fixed it up. My yellow windbreaker was superb in wind and cold. The Kelty backpack held everything I needed and more. That’s the quick, brief, equipment update.

All along the way, I was confronted with the question of why I was doing it. I wanted to know that wandering through France would be worthwhile for more than just me and Mary. Even in the triumph of discovery of some jewel of a view, or person, this question might arise.

A poem by one of my favorite writers, Carol Lynn Pearson, answers it better than I can. It’s called “On Nest Building.” Why should a person be curious and have adventures if all they will ever be doing is raising a family? Why should I slice five weeks out of my life to go hither-thither all over France with a friend? CLP answers that mud and sticks will do fine for building a nest, [and I apologize forthwith for making cuts in this beautiful poem]

“But –

If I may fly awhile – . . .

If I may search the centuries

For melody and meaning –

If I may try for the sun –

I shall come back

Bearing such beauties

Gleaned from God’s and man’s very best.

I shall come back filled.

And then –

Oh, the nest that I can build!”

Over the next weeks and months, I will share with you the treasures gleaned from this trip. I hope all our nests will be richer for them. It’s good to be back!