Imagine waking up at 5:30AM in Paris and returning to 15 Craigside in Honolulu 28 hours later, with a stop in Los Angeles. If this is possible, my past two weeks have been both hellacious and wonderfully memorable. Somewhat similar to a Circle Pacific trip in 2011 where I tasted 24 alcoholic drinks over a 20 hour period getting from Honolulu to Bangkok...
...then I got caught in Japan the day after 11March11 when the Great Tohoku Earthquake, Tsunami and Nuclear Cataclysm crippled the country. Then again, maybe my 2015 around the world trip would be more comparable when I lost both my wallet and tooth, followed by food poisoning just before a European river tour.
Nothing really terrible happened on this trip to France. Maybe young pickpockets used a razor to cut my index finger, then again, perhaps those injuries were merely a reaction to the humidity and dryness of my lips and hands. The train portion was something I'll never subject myself to again, for I was carrying too much for those stairs. But I made it, and this morning, after that ordeal, feel truly terrific, accomplished and happy.
The next morning, on the shuttle ride to the airport I took this photo.
The giant Airbus 380 ride was fine, with a most appropriate combination: a glass of Champagne, bottle of Bordeaux and a spot of Cognac, all free:
By the second meal of a very tasty spinach risotto, I only drank a Coke:
The plane had a tail camera, and this is what I saw on our landing nearly eleven hours later at LAX:
We waited a while, and were called to enter the Hawaiian Airlines plane just minutes before we took off, as we were on standby.
This morning, what I saw when I awoke looked just like France of the past two weeks. Hardly a cloud in the sky, looking at downtown Honolulu from my computer where I'm composing this posting:
A simple comparison would equate the Purgatory of 15 Craigside with the full range of France from Heaven to Hell. The highlights were many:
- Petrossian lunch at LAX with French Caviar, Grey Goose (which comes from France) and Champagne (which has to to come from that country):
- A Flottes Valentine's Dinner of foie gras, escargot and Bordeaux after we landed in Paris and made it to the Renaissance:
- Fabulous duck lunch at Tour d'Argent with a view of the Seine
- A short walk then to the Louvre, which is almost across the block from the Renaissance. My Blue-Bar Pigeon and Mona Lisa (note the reflection to protect her):
- Lunch in the Eiffel Tower, again led by my Blue Bar:
- Three bottles of Taittinger Champagne in Reims:
- A tour of the marvelous La Cite du Vin in Bordeaux, the world's largest wine museum, which just opened in 2016:
- Then, about a full bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild ($900), at no charge. Elvis arranged the private tour and Tom, a colleague from Hilo, with Nicola, the Sommelier, to my right:
- A secret tour through Remy Martin, with some XO, followed by a special tasting from a Louis XIII cask and entry into a mysterious room rarely seen by anyone (here is the range of cognacs from Remy, but, sorry, no photos from those classified rooms):
Well, those were the Heaven parts. There was, for me, a high level of stress, especially in Paris. The Yellow Vests were okay, but they did block roads and cause general turmoil. The trains were painful. Very difficult to make reservations, no English announcement, difficult to see some train stations signs and all those stairs. At least on the Shinkansen--and this will begin in a few weeks--roll-on/-off, escalators and security.
A simple walk in town is through land mines called dog doo-doo. You mistrust everyone because of unrestricted pickpocketing.
The showers were so small that I kept bumping my elbow, although one was open and next to the toilet, which got drenched every time you used it. Also, not one bathroom had any safety bars. My bathtub in Purgatory pretty much breaks the Guinness World Record. Plus my toilet seat is warm. In France, there is a cold shock when you dare to seat.
After tasting the fanciest of Bordeaux and the cheapest (you can find bottles for $2 in markets), Mystery Lady and I came to a conclusion that some of those Two Buck Charlies tasted better than even the vaunted Chateau Lafite Rothschild. We bought at least half a dozen for less than $3 each. Every one was excellent, some at the taste level of, say, CLR. For me, this revelation also applied to five dollar brandies and $4000 Louis the XIII.
And who is this so-called Mystery Lady? Maybe like Purgatory, she is a figment of my imagination. She made this trip especially memorable, in ways I can't detail.
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Former Super Typhoon Wutip is still at 120 MPH, but weakening and headed nowhere;
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