Archive for October, 2026


Stranded. In. Strasbourg.

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October 10, 2026

Right. So here’s what happened. We intended to stay just 3 nights in Strasbourg before boarding our boat for the Rhine Cruise. But we got word the cruise is cancelled because of the Rhine’s low water situation. Plan B set into motion, but not without complications. We’re staying 2 extra nights in Strasbourg and 3 extra nights in Barcelona before we board our boat for the Mediterranean cruise. As we spend our weekend here in Strasbourg, we are thinking of another day trip somewhere or maybe just stay put here to check out the weekend food market or maybe even ride a small boat around Petite France. There’s also many Alsatian dishes to try here near the border with Germany. 😋

Notre Dame Strasbourg
Inside Notre Dame

Being “stranded” in Strasbourg isn’t a bad idea. This charming corner of France with a very rich and vibrant Franco-German heritage offers many picturesque spots like scenic river walks, centuries-old half-timbered houses, a majestic cathedral, pretty bridges, cozy cafes and brasseries. Petite France looks straight out of a fairy tale, sitting pretty along the Ill River. The Grand Rue that runs along the water is kept busy with pedestrians checking out the cheese stores, boutiques, bistros and cafes. It’s been a good week now in France and after Paris, it is nice to just relax and take leisurely walks with hardly a plan except to eat well and snap a few lovely photos as souvenirs of the Alsace Region.

Petite France
Petite France
Petite France

I should be updating this blog as we go along. For the moment, we’re cooling our heels around here. The morning showers aren’t exactly welcome but perfect days aren’t the norm. So there. And yes, we’ve been eating well. Food is French-German and we’re loving it. Watch this page.

Le Tire Bouchon
Winstub La Vieille Enseigne
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Colmar’s Treasure

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October 9, 2026

Outside of Paris lies Colmar in the beautiful Alsace Region. Been in my bucket list for years, especially after looking at those lovely Alsatian Christmas markets . But what floored me more than its scenic landscape and pretty village is its true treasure, the Musee Unterlinden housed in a 13th century convent and what used to be a public baths building. The entire building keeps a massive collection but given our limited time, we concentrated on the breathtaking Isenheim Altarpiece. If only for these masterpieces by the German Renaissance painter Grunewald & carver Haguenauer, no one wonders why and how this Musee receives as many as 200,000 visitors yearly.

Collected from some churches, abbeys, convents and monasteries, the religious artworks were recently restored (2018-2022) and now on display in all its vivid colors. Impressive paintings and sculptures of the Nativity, Annunciation, Crucifixion and Resurrection were commissioned for a monastery hospital in Isenheim back in 1512-1516, and later moved to Colmar some 20 kms away in 1792 during the French Revolution.

It’s almost sinful to spend just an hour in Musee Unterlinden. Viewing the altarpieces and retablo alone can easily take 3 hours. The massive polyptych adorned the high altar of the monastery hospital’s Antonite chapel until the French Revolution. It is claimed that these masterpieces provided spiritual comfort to the sick and dying in the hospital. I haven’t heard about Grünewald and a quick search tells me he has not acquired as much fame as many Renaissance masters. Sad to think that he was not that popular then and even now but his works speak for themselves.

Lastly, the 13th century convent hosting this Musee Unterlinden is one impressive structure complete with cloisters and a basement where the public baths once were. I certainly need to brush up on this museum and its Isenheim collection as my knowledge prior to this visit is zilch. Watch this page for updates.

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Deep In Montmartre

Filed under: Food Trip, France, Musings & Ramblings, Travel, travels — 2 Comments
October 8, 2026

Never skipped a Montmartre visit whenever in Paris. Thick tourist crowd, yes, but beyond Place du Tertre, Sacre Ceour, Moulin Rouge there are still pockets of tranquility and beauty. Soon after rounding up the public square taken over by artists cum portraitists, an assortment of souvenir shops, cafes, creperies and gelato bars, the side streets and winding alleys are both interesting and challenging. Not exactly under the tourist radar, but we found these spots less crowded and somehow devoid of scammers and pickpockets.

Moulin de la Galette sits under a historic windmill, a spot where a cabaret once stood too.
Moulin de la Galette at the corner of Rue Lepic and Rue Girardon

Moulin de la Galette offers outside seating where we enjoyed traditional French cuisine while passersby took photos of the historic windmill immortalized in Van Gogh’s The Guingette, A Cafe Terrace in Montmartre and The Moulin de la Galette. Other artists likewise painted these historical monuments including the cabaret crowd — A. Renoir, Henri de Toulouse-Latrec, Picasso. At the time, Montmartre was a village of wine growers, millers and cabaret owners. It is claimed the dance halls aka cabarets gave birth to the French cancan whose prominent stars allegedly had their debuts here. Since the 1900’s, many famous actors similarly frequented the area to enjoy their galettes with muscat wine. As for us, we enjoyed the landmark restaurant under a windmill’s moules fritte, French onion soup and Beouf with Bernaise Sauce.

Place Dalida
Marcel Ayme

Not too far from this corner is Place Dalida named after a famous French-Egyptian singer who once lived in the area. Dalida’s bust and square featured in some movies and tv series like Emily in Paris. The story goes that Dalida once had a brief romantic alliance with the famous French actor Alain Delon. At the time, both were unknown artists when they first met as struggling neighbors. While both gained prominence in their respective arts, Dalida became a musical icon, selling millions of records but unfortunately committed suicide in 1987 at age 54. Several of her former partners earlier committed suicide, including one ex-husband. What a sad life for beautiful and talented Dalida. Off some corner here is the interesting bronze sculpture of Marcel Ayme, a French short story writer, playwright, and essayist. Among his works is The Man Who Could Walk Through Walls. You can find this sculpture by Jean Marais at the intersection of Rue Girardon and Rue Norvins.

Cafe Deux Moulin
La Maison Rose aka Pink House

If you have watched and liked the classic French movie Amelie, you’d likely be interested to dine in Cafe des Deux Moulins along Rue Lepic on a downhill slope towards Moulin Rouge. Obviously, the cafe was named after Montmartre’s two famous and historical windmills — the Moulin Rouge and Moulin de la Galette. The character Amelie worked in this cafe, serving that very French creme brûlée with hot chocolate chaud. The movie’s massive international success featuring Audrey Taotou made this cafe very famous. She is the same French actress who appeared in Da Vinci Code (2006) and Coco Before Chanel (2009).

The La Maison Rose or Pink House is further up, nearer Sacre Coeur along the beautiful street Rue de Abreuvoir. Many tourists find this cafe very “instagrammable” as it sits in a corner serving classic French and Italian country cuisine. I’ve only had cafe allongé and a lemon tart here but they do serve a classic but limited menu. If you’re around this corner, do take an outside table across the Pink House and enjoy watching people passing, posing and snapping photos of the Maison. Quite an experience. You’d likely even be requested to take some of their pictures. 🤫

Walking around Montmartre means climbing a lot of stairs and struggling against uphill climbs.
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Alone . Under. The. Dome.

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October 6, 2026

This wasn’t planned. On this trip, my travel mates booked an evening Seine cruise which I decided not to join. Took off on my own instead and checked in for a night of adoration at the Hôtellerie de la Basilique du Sacre Coeur de Montmartre. I never missed a visit to this lovely basilica up on a hill with every trip to Paris. No matter how tight the travel schedule is. I also try not to miss every First Friday Mass (and if possible, every Friday Mass) and novena to the sacred heart. When I learned the basilica allows vigils (from 11pm to 6am) and provides accommodation to volunteers at this guest house attached to the basilica, I readily signed up. Weekend vigils are almost always full but Mondays are relatively “lacking” in numbers. I booked a room — very spartan — and dinner prior to confession, mass, adoration and prepped myself for a night under the dome. At dinner, I met the staff and some volunteers. We were 15. So I assumed we can easily assign the adoration hours amongst us. It turned out more than half of the people around the table made up the staff. For a good hour, I think I was all alone inside the basilica. I could almost feel the echo of my laboured breathing and coughing. I stared at the lighted candles and mindlessly watched if the lights seemed to sway right or left. Wondered how the light flickered when there didn’t seem to be any wind blowing within the vast space. I didn’t trust myself to wander around under the big dome. I only managed to look behind me and panned the camera, hoping I won’t find any moving shadows. It was so eerily quiet. And very dark. Only the altar was lighted. Plus the candles. For a while, I wasn’t so sure about the passageway that connected the basilica to the hotellerie. Yay.

When I checked in at 4pm, I had time to rest in my room one level below ground. Very spartan. There was a window looking out to an empty space hemmed in by trees and a white statue of the sacred heart. Dinner was served one level lower. The bridgeway that connects to the basilica is one level above ground. So from my room, I needed to climb 2 flights of stairs. Around 8pm, the confessionals were kept busy. A priest must be taking his break, walking around the church. I approached him and asked if I can make a confession and he led me to his confessional box. Then the 10pm mass where this same father-confessor was the presiding priest. I stayed long after the mass. I initially counted 4 of us, maybe 5 as I detected a shadow behind me. Before long, all’s quiet and I felt alone. What a lovely time to pray. From the many church doors, I was trying to figure out which led to the bridgeway and prayed I won’t get lost. Oh, I admit I found a staircase beside the altar leading down and curious me took it. I climbed back up promptly when i sensed it was leading to a crypt. 😳

Every so often, I would travel with my family or friends and somehow manage to exclude myself from the group for some “me time”. This was my “me time” and I’m glad I was able to do this. It was kind of difficult to sleep as my senses were full on but it was a wonderful time to pray. Looking back, I wasn’t sure what I prayed about. I think I just sat there quietly and “listened”. And many happy thoughts wafted through my mind. The gratitude in my heart floated through, leaving me aware of how I actually ended up here. Nothing happens by accident. It appeared unplanned, but somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, I felt “chosen”. I couldn’t ask for more. I am grateful to feel the way I do now.

The following morning, I skipped the breakfast provided for the volunteers and instead walked around Montmartre. I love this bohemian neighborhood with all its quirky cafes, tiny museums, creperies and brasseries. I just don’t enjoy the sloping streets especially when going uphill. And that Rue Lepic which snaked down to Pigalle which threw off all my sense of direction. I’ve never seen a street corner of the same street! Like Rue Lepic lying perpendicular to another Rue Lepic. Oh well. I’m only too glad with the discovery even if it made me lose track of where to go. So, heading back to our Paris crib now . But not before breakfast. Will I do this again? Why ever not? 🙏🙏🙏

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Sundays at Le Marais (Paris)

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October 5, 2026

Touchdown, Paris. It’s a Sunday so we decided we’d be off to hear mass after dropping our bags in the hotel. Meant to hear the 1130 mass in Notre Dame but the wait from landing to going through passport control and arriving in our hotel ruined our plans. The streets around the hotel near Champ Elysees were so crowded with dog walkers and our hotel transfer wasted precious hours snaking around detours. By the time we were ready to leave the hotel, we couldn’t even hail a cab. Taxi ranks overtaken by “The Sausage Walk 2026”. Yay, this is Paris indeed. Dog walkers all over the place. So we decided to instead take the metro to Hotel de Ville across Notre Dame. From there we walked towards our chosen restaurant for our Sunday late lunch across the Seine. Au Bourguignon du Marais did not disappoint. Walking along Rue de Rivoli to reach this bourguignon place meant passing by (and dropping in) some shops along Rue de Rivoli, a very trendy street in Le Marais. Tempting to stop for some retail therapy, but after a long flight and muscles begging for a stretch, lunch is the 1st order of the day. And make that a traditional French lunch. A very French lunch.

Beef bourguignon was the bistro’s signature dish and we certainly enjoyed that. Magret de Canard did not really stand out but the dishes that were served before the main entree were truly frenchy good. Love the escargot, the French onion soup and the ouef mayonnaise. More than enough for the four of us. Not bad for our first French meal soon after touchdown. I skipped my inflight meal having decided to sleep through my connecting flight but no luck on catching some winks on these flights. Sob.

The yummy starters before the real deal.

We passed on desserts since we planned to indulge in Carette after this heavy lunch but Carette had to wait. Our random plan to visit Musee Carnavalet ended so uncomfortably warm and humid. Don’t misunderstand — Carnavalet is certainly worth a visit (and it’s free) but temps hiked after our late lunch and it was unbearably warm and humid. We didn’t stay too long and upon exit, dragged ourselves to the nearby square, the oldest in Paris. Place des Vosges. Carette and Maison Victor Hugo are both just around the square but after a long sleepless flight, the rising humidity and the thick Sunday crowd, we lost energy and decided to call it a day.

The taxi that brought us home had to deal with closed-off streets and detours. Upon reaching our Paris crib, we were wasted. Ready to hit the sack. But not before a glass of vino rouge.

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