BIKING THROUGH THE VAL DE LOIRE

 A Spring Break Adventure

My best friend Adrian was pretty culturally aware at his age.  His mother and aunt worked at the U.S. Embassy and when his father was alive they lived in China and Somali.  When I met him, he had already been living in Paris for five years.  Adrian was fluent in Chinese, Somali, French and English.  He was fascinated with world history, castles and during our friendship his knowledge and enthusiasm of history rubbed off on me.  We were always looking for some adventure wherever we went.

Adrian was also an avid bike rider.  He rode his ten speed bike all over Paris, it was his main means of transportation.  From the first time I met Adrian he was planning a bicycle trip through the Loire Valley.  I was also a biker.  Growing up I always had a bicycle but mine were of the motocross style and I left it behind when we moved to Paris.  Over time, Adrian convinced me that the bike trip would be an epic trip and I was all in for the adventure.  Whenever we had time, we would map out the route from Paris to the Loire Valley.  Our plan was to ride through all the villages and visit as many castles along the way.  We didn't plan on staying in hotels but would ride all day and camp out at night.  Of course our goal was to photograph the past while enjoying the countryside on bike.

The Loire Valley is a region in central France famous for its many castles (chateaux), vineyards, and historic towns.  The region is known for its cultural heritage and natural beauty and its Loire Valley stretch is a UNESCO World Heritage site.

We mapped out every castle we would visit and learned the history of each one.  When the day arrived, Adrian arrived with his bike carefully loaded and packed.  On the rear of his bike he had saddle bags, he had water bottles attached to the middle of the bike frame and he was equipped with a special waterproof camera case strapped to his handle bars with a detailed map needed to navigate our route.  

Since I didn't have a bike, I rented one for the trip.  I had strapped a soft backpack to the rear of the bike which contained my clothes, a tent, sternos for cooking and food supplies.  I had my water supply filled in a wine pouch wrapped around handle bars and my camera strung across my chest. I said goodbye to my parents, my sisters were away on a trip to Spain and away we went.

We departed Paris early in the morning attempting to avoid the rush hour.  Our goal was to ride approximately 75 miles a day with an average of riding 8 hours. Navigating through Paris was an adventure on its own.  We dodged cars, motorcycles, scooters, bikes and pedestrians until we finally made it into the outskirts of the city.  Adrian had meticulously mapped out our bike route and was riding at a fast pace, Although I was in excellent shape, I was not used to riding a bike for a long distance at a fast pace so it was actually difficult trying to keep up with him.

Once we got on the country roads, riding was a lot more pleasant and enjoyable, finally I had the opportunity to look at my surroundings and enjoy the fresh country air.  At the end of our first day we arrived at the start of the Loire Valley route via Orleans.  It was getting dark and we were in a forest area so we quickly found a camp site off the side of the road nestled between trees and bushes.  I set up the tent while Adrian prepared dinner, he built a make shift stove using the sterno and heated up ravioli straight out of the can, split a baguette, and topped if off with cheese.  This meal concoction, became our main staple throughout the trip. Once we ate and settled in the tent we both immediately fell asleep from pure exhaustion.

When we woke up in the morning, we realized it had started raining sometime during the night. We soon found out that our tent was not waterproof because we were soaking wet and we hadn't even gone out of the tent yet.  The hard part was getting out of the tent.  My legs were so sore from riding and my crotch and butt were aching in pain from sitting on a little bike seat all day.  I could barely walk and we laughed because the trip just began and I was beginning to have second thoughts about going the distance . Breakfast consisted of a leftover baguette and cheese.  We mapped out our route for the day and selected which castles we wanted to visit.  We put on our windbreakers and a hat thinking it would shield us from the rain.  I slowly and carefully mounted my bike in gruesome pain and off we rode.

It was spring break so the weather was chilly and riding through the cold pouring rain was not enjoyable.  My biggest mistake of the trip was being unprepared.  I had taken only one pair of levi jeans when they got wet, they were so uncomfortable, heavy and cold.  The main road through the Loire Valley was a two lane road with many hills. 

The first castle we came to was Chateau de Cheverny.  

Built in 1604 for Count Hurault de Cheverny at the edge of the Sologne Forest its classical facade built of attractive white stone from the bourre quarries.  We parked our bikes along a fence and walked to the entrance.  This was the first time  I had ever seen a real castle in person and  it was a remarkable site.  Adrian had studied the history of these castles so he was able to share some knowledge of the history and architectural features.  Most of the time we spent a few francs (euros) for a tour guide.  If it was a large group of people and we happened to see some closed door, we usually slipped the tour and ventured off on our own.  Sometimes we got caught and we always had the same story, that we got left behind and got lost, yes it always worked.

Back on our bikes we headed to the next closest chateau, by bike it was about an hour away.  On many occasions while biking to our next destination we would enter a small village and ride around a little bit and stop at a boulangerie, buy a baguette, stop at a  fromagerie, buy some cheese and a charcuterie, ro buy some sliced meets, then ride around and find a nice place to enjoy our lunch.  Most of the time it was raining so we typically ended up stopping under a bridge.  

The next castle on our route was Chateau Blois.

This flamboyant Gothic style influenced by the fantasy and Italian Renaissance and later classical style of the likes of Louis XII, Francoise I and Gaston d' Orleans who shaped this magnificent royal chateau into the image of their era.  First built in the early 1100's and completed in the 1300's. Because of its unique architecture, it is believed to be one of the most elaborate and beautiful chateau's of France.  In my opinion the most intriguing aspect of chateau Bloise is the Renaissance staircase commissioned by Francoise I and built on the exterior between two wings of the building.

Each Chateau we visited and explored had its own uniqueness and history.  Because so many different kings lived here throughout the years, there was much rivalry between the various ruling families and their courts.  We did our very best to find all the secret passage ways that led from one room to another that enabled the kings and queens to move about the chateau without being followed or escorted. 

A couple of hours before nightfall we usually started looking for a campsite someplace off the beaten path located in the woods where no one on the main road would see us.  Although the Loire Valley has an abundance of forest area, it is still a private protected heritage site that does not allow public camping.  Of course, we were on a mission to break every rule, after all, that's what made our trip exciting and adventurous. Several times we departed a castle tour late and it was nearly dark so we made camp on the chateau grounds.  Those were the best camp sites because at night some of the castle lights were left on and it was an awesome site to be lying in the tent with an amazing view of a medieval chateau.

The adventure continues to Chateau Amboise

The town of Amboise, which lies on the south bank of the Loire below the proud remains of its Chateau.  It appears at its most picturesque  when it is seen from the bridge across the river.  It is the typical picture of a chateau built on a hill, surrounded by a fortified wall overlooking its realm.  In 1492 Louis XI commissioned the building of the chateau and further embellished by Charles VIII.  It took five continuous years and hundreds of workers labored day and night using candlelight to meet the king's demands.  By the time it was finished in 1496, Francois I took residence and added his flair from his visits to Italy.  Throughout the years many historic events occurred, it played a major part during the War of Religion and suffered  extensive damage during many rebellions and at one time became a prison.  

Our most memorable visit was to the Amboise dungeon.  During a long narrated tour, the guide briefly mentioned a door that led to the infamous dungeon where political and hardened criminals were sent.  Since the guide made no attempt to escort us downstairs, naturally, we pretended to be looking at artifacts and then quietly hid behind a large column until the group passed and disappeared down a corridor.  We struggled but we were able to pry open the heavy wooden door that led to the dungeon.

At first there was sunlight that came into the stairwell but the further we descended it got darker and darker.  Being the explorers that we were, this is what we came for, we whipped out our handy flashlights and proceeded down the staircase.  Each step we took down it got colder and colder until we came to the bottom. 

The dungeon was a large and extremely cold and damp room.  There was no light so we used our flashlights to look around.  There were remnants of an old bench or maybe a table with an old rusted chain and manacles.  There were many holes in the wall where I imagine prisoners were handcuffed and tortured.  In the corner of the room was a hanging cage the size of a head, it contained a human skull, we didn't know if it was real or fake but either way it spooked us and we ran backed up the stairs  faster than a speeding bullet.  When we got to the top and opened the door, there was another tour group standing around, we gently slithered our way into the crowd and continued the remainder of the tour with our new friends.

We spent most of the day exploring chateau Amboise and then we rode our bikes down to the village below.  We did our usual dinner shopping and walked around looking in the many little stores trying to stay out of the rain.       

Many years later I wrote a children's book, Adrian's Adventure in the Loire Valley", little fact, Adrian is my middle name.  It was inspired by my visit to chateau Amboise. 

Off to chateau Chenonceau

Chenonceau is my favorite chateau of all.  Chenonceau stretches across the Cher river in a natural setting of water, greenery, gardens and trees.  This chateau was built between 1513 and 1521 and had frequent ownership for 400 years both happy and sad and it's main protagonists were women, be they royal wives, mistresses and queens.  Sold as a debt, Francois I purchased it as a hunting lodge.  Kings like Henry II gave the chateau to his mistress Diane de Poitiers.  When Henry II died, his wife Catherine de' Medici forced Diane out and took over the chateau.  She had lavish gatherings For Francois II, Mary Stuart and Charles IX, no expenses were spared at these festivities, which included banquets, dances, fancy dress balls, fireworks and Evan a naval battle on the Cher.  Undoubtedly, this Chenonceau's architecture and elegant checkered ballroom over the Cher river was extremely impressive.

Adrian and I were becoming experts in chateau living and the history of these amazing architectural wonders.  Our imaginations ran wild, thinking what life would have been both on the inside and outside of the royal life.  

The Haunted Castle

On one occasion, we had been riding a far distance in the drizzling rain.  It was cold so we decided to make camp early.  We ventured on a small side road that led us to an open field with one bid tree.  Across the road was an old abandoned mini chateau so we decided to set up camp under the tree hoping that it would shield us during a downpour (since our tent wasn't waterproof).  

While Adrian set up the tent, I collected firewood for a small campfire.  As the rain subsided but there was lightning in the distance and the fog started rolling in we were trying to get warm from the campfire. 

 It was quiet except for the crackling of the fire when we both heard a woman screaming in the distance.  At the same time we looked at each other and said "did you hear that?" We both thought the scream came from the abandoned chateau so we looked in that direction and to our amazement, we saw a woman in a white flowy dress or nightgown running back and forth from one end to the other end of the house. She would stop at certain windows, look out and scream. We could clearly see her running back and forth as though there were no walls separating the rooms.  Immediately, we put the campfire out and ran into the tent and zipped up the tent just enough for us to poke our heads out.  Both of us were super scared and we were debating whether or not we should tear down our camp and ride out as fast as we could but we didn't want to go back outside so we decided to hunker in and hope for the best.  Neither one of us slept that night in fear the "screaming woman" would appear at our tent.  I guess we eventually fell asleep but in the morning we cautiously excited the tent, packed up and rode off as quickly as we could.

On to Chateau de Villandry

Villandry was one of the last great Renaissance chateaux to be built on the Loire.  I had unusual features like rectangular pavilions (instead of round towers) as well as the layout of its most.  It's mainly known for its gardens, which are among the fascinating in France.

Originally built in the 16th century during the reign of Francois I.  It's uniqueness is that it overlooks both the Loire and Cher rivers.  It was once inhabited by a Spainard Carvallo, his wife and two children.  They beautifully furnished it and added many moorish features unique to that period.  Most impressive were the 12 acres of labyrinth gardens that featured canals, fountains, cascades, vine-covered pergolas and a Romanesque church.  The funnest thing we did on these grounds was, I started at one end and Adrian started at the other end and we individually walked the labyrinth garden until we met in the middle.  It took a good half hour to meet in the center.

On our way to Chateau Azay le Rideau

Back on the road again, it was still raining.  By this time I was pretty frustrated and tired.  As I mentioned earlier in my story, I was wearing Levi's and a wind breaker.  Because it rained almost everyday, my pants never dried and because of the moisture, my inner thighs were raw from the constant rubbing against the bike seat.  I was ready for the next stop.

Azay-le-Rideau was one of the gems of the Renaissance.  Similar to Chenonceau, but less grandiose it creates an unforgettable impression of elegance.  In 1418 when Charles VII was Dauphin he was insulted by one of the guards as he passed by.  Instant reprisals followed, the town was seized and burnt and the captain and 350 soldiers were executed.  Throughout the years, several financiers owned the property and later, Francois I confiscated the chateau and gave it to one of his companions in arms from the Italian campaigns.

It always amazes me how opulent the interior of these chateaux are decorated.  Although most of them are sparse with regards to furniture and artifacts mainly because those items were destroyed during the revolution in 1787 they usually had beautiful painted ceiling frescoes.  I'll never forget that this chateau had a billiard room intact with an antique billiard table.

On the road again to Chateau Usse

The chateau stands with its back to a cliff on the edge of the Chinon Forest, its terraced gardens overlooking the river Indre.  Its impressive bulk and fortified towers contrast sharply with the white stone.  Tradition has it that when Charles Perrault, the famous French writer of fairy tales, was looking for a setting for "Sleeping Beauty", he chose Usse as his model.

Usse is a very old fortress built in the 15 century and became the property of great family from Touraine, the Bueils, who distinguished themselves in the Hundred Years War (1337-1453).  The fortress housed the families of Charles VII, Louis XI and Charles VIII and had frequent visitors to the likes of Voltaire and Chateaubriand.

The one outstanding feature was a cave.  The cave is called a troglodytic, it contained an old oven where pears are peeled whole and left to dry in a bread oven for four days. During this process they dehydrate and then they are beaten flat and put into jars for preservation.  The dried pears provide accompaniment to game or meat dishes served with gravy or made to swell by soaking in a good Chinon wine. 

 In addition, adjacent to the troglodytic cave was a wine cellar. The wine cellar was not part of the tour but of course we found it hidden, built into the side of the cliff.  While we were walking around the chateau grounds, we discovered these huge wooden doors.  It was an opportunity for us to open the doors and see what was behind them.  Beyond the doors was an endless dark room with stacked wine barrels and numerous racks loaded with wine bottles.  As we later came to find out, Chateau Usse was a working winery and its wine was very much in demand.

Chateau Usse was very photogenic and as we rode away, the sun was shining down on its majestic beauty and we clearly understood why this chateau was the inspiration for the first tale of "Sleeping Beauty".

Upon leaving Chateau Usse we knew there was only one more chateau left on our map to visit.  After we left the grounds of Usse we rode to the nearest village, shopped at a few small shops to buy staples for our lunch and made a final stop at a wine shop and purchased a bottle of Chateau Usse red wine.  Once we had our lunch fixings, we stopped by the side of the road, overlooking Chateau Usse and enjoyed our usual baguette, meats and cheese and delicious Usse wine.

The final destination to Chateau Chinon

Chateau Chinon lies at the heart of a well-known wine region, surrounded by the fertile and beautiful Chinon Forest.  The medieval town is along the banks beneath the crumbling walls of its gigantic ruined fortress.  In 1154 the King of England Henry Plantagenet took possession of the fortress and it became his favorite.  Throughout the years, Chinon was in the hands of England and France with many prominent Kings residing in the fortress.

Chinon's name of fame came with the arrival of Joan of Arc in 1429.  She came to Chinon to deliver a message from God to the Dauphin Charles VII that he was the rightful heir of France and the true son of the King and would be anointed king of France.  

To our dismay, little remains of the current Chinon Fortress except for ruins of a once dominating kingdom.   We explored the grounds and nearby lookout points.  It was quite impressive but all we could do was imagine what was once there.  It was getting late so we decided to get back on the road and start looking for a campsite.  

We were already close to two weeks on our bike adventure.  we were cold, wet and exhausted and we had calculated that we rode 25 to 30 miles a day, we were ready to go home.  We planned on riding  all day about 75 miles each day because we didn't expect to visit any more chateaux for the remainder of the trip.  We were going to make our usual campsite in the forest when we spotted a small outpost on the side of the road.  It looked like a guard house of some kind and it was abandoned.   We parked our bikes behind the structure and found a small wooden door and opened it.  Inside was a small dark room with no windows.  The room was cold, damp and filled with trash. 

It started to sprinkle again and we made the decision to make this our home the night.  In order for us to sleep here we had to empty out all the piled up trash so before it go dark we started removing all the trash putting it into a big pile.  It took us a couple of hours to clean up the place, once all the trash was removed we discovered a fireplace off in the corner.  We used branches from nearby shrubbery to sweep the dirt floor. When we finally finished we were pretty proud of ourselves and admired our new digs for the night.  Adrian went rummaging for firewood while I started warming up dinner.  As night fell, we piled the firewood into the fireplace and were happy that we were dry and warm.

Exhausted from riding all day and then cleaning out the hut we were ready to settle in until a couple of field mice interrupted our cozy home.  We chased the little mice all around but they kept hiding under our gear.  This went on and on until we finally cornered the rodents and knocked them out with a mighty blow with a tree branch.  Finally we could get some rest.

Just as we were getting comfortable and warm, the room started to fill with smoke.  At first it was bearable and we figured a little smoke was not going to ruin it for us even though we were constantly coughing and clearing our throats but it slowly started to fill the room.  We opened the door and for some reason that just made it worse.   We figured that the chimney was probably clogged from years of neglect and the room was completely smoked filled but there was nothing that we could do.  We extinguished the fire and ran outside to get fresh air and air out the room.  So there we were, standing outside, cold and soaked waiting for the smoke to dissipate. We took turns going inside and flushing the smoke out but that took hours.  By the time it was safe for us to go back inside, we were physically and mentally done.  The burnt smell was overwhelming but we didn't care, we climbed in our sleeping bags and fell asleep.  

The next day, after a restless night we packed up and headed out.  To our surprise it was a sunny warm day  so we decided we would take a scenic route along the Loire River.  About an hour into our ride we came to a docked river barge.  The barge appeared to be empty so we got off our bikes and started the check it out.  Suddenly, a door on board opened and a man came out.  We started talking to the man on the barge and he asked us many questions about our bike ride.  We told him we were tired and ready to get back home in Paris.  To our dismay he said that is where he is headed and asked us if we wanted a lift.  We looked at each other and at the same time we said "oui, oui, oui".

A relaxing and long ride up the Loire and Seine River

We brought our bikes and gear onboard and found a comfortable spot at the front end of the barge.  We slowly pulled away from the shore and off we were up the Loire River.  

As the barge slowly traversed up the Loire River we sat back, took a deep breath and welcomed the warm sun on our faces.  Our trip up the river was almost surreal, we would be in the middle of a forest and then out of the clearing was a majestic chateau.  Most of the chateaux sat on a hill overlooking a village below, its realm.  Adrian and I didn't talk very much except each time we passed one the chateaux we visited we would say it's name out loud, Chenonceau, Usse,  Azay le-Rideau and so on so on.  Our boat ride was like a slow motion movie of our bike ride and we were watching it unfold in front of us.  In one way I was happy to be going home and on the other hand I was sad to be leaving such a magical place in history.  

We sat outside the barge all night long and in the darkness the sky was clear and littered with millions of stars.  It was warm, no rain and we eventually fell asleep only to wake up as we were entering the man-made Canal de Briare which connects the Loire to the Seine River.  When we arrived on the outskirts of Paris, the barge docked and we got off and thanked the man who gave us a ride back home.

Adrian and I rode through neighborhoods until we eventually entered the city limits.  Again we navigated between, speeding cars, motorcycles, scooters and pedestrians.  When we got to the Etoile (Arc de Triomph) Adrian went down one Ave and went down another one, we didn't even stop just nodded at one another with a big smile on our faces.  Our spring break trip through the Loire Valley was officially over.

Back Home

I arrived back at our apartment on Quai Anatole France sometime during the day.  I rang the doorbell and our butler George opened the door and looked at me from head to toe and said, "Mon Dieu, Mr. Steve bienvenue chez Vous" (welcome home).  I replied, "Merci George c'est bon d'etre a la maison bien sur" (thank you, it's good to be home for sure).  I was excited to greet the family and tell them all about the trip but to my dismay, no one was home.  I went to my room took off the levi's that I had been wearing for two weeks and took the hottest bath ever.  

When I was all cleaned up and eating lunch the doorbell rang.  I told the butler I would get it.  When I opened the door, there stood my two sisters, disheveled sun burned and tired.  They had returned home from their spring break from somewhere's on the beach in southern Spain. I looked at their pathetic faces and just started laughing, welcome home are you glad to be back, they simultaneously yes and we're going to bed.  It ended up they had quite the journey riding the train back to Paris.

Quai Anatole France and Madame Cockman

Quai Anatole France

On the Move Again...

When our lease ran out on our apartment on Rue Du Bac in the 5th Arrondismont, we had to move once again and this time it was to an apartment on the famous Quai Anatole France, located in the 7th Arrondismont on the Rive Guache (left bank).  Our new apartment was located close to the famous Latin Quarter. This would be our fifth and final move during our mission in Paris.

Hollywood Comes to Paris...

Interesting enough, our newly selected apartment was the former home of Albert Brocolli, the movie Producer of the James Bond 007 movie empire.  He was living in the apartment while filming the latest Bond thriller, Moonraker that was released in early 1979. 

The American Embassy told us many outlandish stories of parties that were held in Quai Anatole.  The story I liked best was, when the filming came to an end, Brocolli held a cast party in the apartment.  During the party things got out of hand when the famous Richard Kyle, otherwise known as "JAWS" arrived.  Jaws was 7'2, 350 lbs and was a strong man in his own right.  He was one of those actors who always portrayed the ugly bad guy.  Jaws, was a big hit, he would pick up one of the actresses and hold her out of the 3rd story living room window by her ankle, while she screamed and everyone cheered him on.  Then he would grab a male actor by their ankles and dangle them out the window too.  Fortunately, there were no mishaps just lots of screaming and laughter.  

Meeting Bond, James Bond...

I have to mention this tidbit here because it fits in with the "James Bond" storyline.  When we arrived in our new apartment on Quai Anatole, to my dismay, while unpacking, I realized that the movers forgot my classical guitar back at the old apartment at Rue Du Bac.  Because my guitar was everything to me, I told my parents what had happened and I went back to retrieve it. 

When I arrived back at Rue Du Bac I knocked on the door.  After several knocks and no answer I was getting ready to leave when suddenly the door opened.  The man standing at the door was none other than the man himself, Bond, James Bond...Sir Roger Moore.

 

I introduced myself and explained why I was there.  He laughed and politely allowed me to enter his new apartment.  We briefly talked about the historical design and history of the apartment and he was interested to find out that an American Ambassador was living in the same apartment there prior to his move-in. 

Sir Moore escorted me to my old room.  My guitar was in the corner of the room, next to my old bed right where I had left it.  I put it in it's case and told Sir Moore that my life was now complete.  He laughed and said, "cheers lad, I'm glad you got your prize possession". He asked me if I was enjoying my stay in Paris and wished me good luck.  As I walked back to the front door, I thanked him and told him that I was a big fan of his and that I was looking forward to seeing his next action thriller at the movies.  

We shook hands and I departed with a smile on my face.   As it turned out, Brocolli originally wanted to rent the apartment at Rue du Bac while filming but because we were occupying it, he moved into the Quai Anatole France apartment.  When he learned that we were moving out, he recommended the apartment to Sir Roger Moore who was planning to rest and relax in Paris for a few months after filming. Later that year, Moonranker came to the theater and I was there, front and center row, after all, me and Sir Roger Moore now shared a BOND.

Our New Surroundings...

Our apartment on Quai Anatole France was named after the 19th century French Poet, journalist, and novelist, Anatole France and was located along the Seine River.  

Down the street and in eyesight was the famous Pont Alexander III bridge that separates the right Bank from the left bank.  Our apartment was one block from the French National Assembly and one block from the Musee d'Orsay. Across the Seine River from our place was the famous Place de la Concorde with its famous Neptune water fountain, the Egyptian Oblisk, the U.S. American Embassy, the Elysee (French President's Residence), and the Hotel Carillion. Directly across the street from Place de la Concorde is the beautiful gardens (Jardin Tullieries), which leads to the Musee du Louvre.  

Most intriguing to a teenager as myself was the famous Piscine Deligny.  The Piscine (pool) was an outdoor floating barge that contained a swimming pool built in 1796 on the Seine River. It had a lower deck and a notable upper deck where all the topless sun bathers gathered. We have a lot of funny stories revolving around the famous pool, especially when American guests visited us and had the pleasure of viewing sunbathers close up with our readily handy binoculars located on our window sill.  As I learned later, in 1993 the Piscine Deligny mysteriously sank to the bottom on the Seine.  

The Apartment

The apartment spanned the entire 3rd floor of the building.  From the street, you entered a gate that lead into a small courtyard.  You entered the building, through a small foyer which led to an elevator and a staircase.  This was not a modern elevator but a narrow box surrounded by an ornate iron cage that would slowly go up or down.  When you pushed the button, all kind of strange loud noises came from compressors, gears, pulleys, and cables, and when it came to a stop it jerked  with a loud clunking noise.  On one occasion, me and some friends visiting from the US decided we would jump up while the elevator started to descend.  Bad idea...when the three of us landed on the floor of the elevator, the small cage made the loudest clunk and it came to an abrupt stop.  We pushed buttons to no avail and realized we were stuck in between floors and unable to get out. We yelled and screamed for help. Finally after a long and terrifying time, someone came to our rescue and called the fire department.  By the time they arrived and rescued us, hours had gone by and we vowed never to try that stunt again.

Our apartment on Quai Anatole was a fantastic hub when visitors came to stay with us. It had a massive living room with elegant sofas, wing back chairs and most notable, a grand piano situated by the large windows that spanned from one end of the room to other end that presented the most amazing scenic view of the heart of Paris. But we mainly lounged in a smaller den which was adjacent to the living room.  It was more cozy and comfortable with sofas, captain chairs, a large TV and the best view of all, overlooking Piscine Deligny. 

The Notorious Madame Cockman

Aside from the history and location of our apartment, the real story here is that of the Landlord.  When we first arrived to sign the lease, we were greeted by an uppity proper English woman who called herself  Madame Cockman.  According to her, she was graciously leasing us the apartment while her wealthy husband was away on business in South America she was going to find a well-suited tenant and then rendezvous with him.

After several months had gone by, the American Embassy contacted my father and questioned him regarding numerous and very expensive international telephone calls to South America.  Evidently, these calls were originating from our apartment on our telephone line.  This was a mystery and surprise to my father, he had no idea what was happening but assured the Embassy that he would get to the bottom of it.  

One morning my father and I were in the kitchen and our chef entered through a backdoor that we didn't know existed.  Dumbfounded, we asked her how she knew about the backdoor and she explained that there is a common service entrance backdoor that is connected to all of the apartments in the building.  It is the official servants entrance, exclusively to be used by the chefs, maids and butlers who work for the residents of the building.   

In addition, there were living quarters located upstairs in the building's attic where some of the servants lived.  These are called "Chambres de Bonne" or "maids rooms", she explained. 

One Sunday morning, when it was our chef's day off, we were in the kitchen making our own breakfast.  My father began telling my mother about the servant's entrance and the chambres de bonne.  Our intrigue lead to an adventure. My father and I set off to explore the hidden passage ways of our apartment building.  Behind the kitchen entrance was a small door that led to an outside entrance that was connected to a dark musty narrow spiral stairwell .  

At the top of the stairwell we were basically in the attic of the building. 

We were standing in a hallway that was dimly lit by a few scattered skylight windows. There was a long hallway with doors on each side.  All of the doors were closed but we could hear classical music coming from the end of the hallway.  As we slowly proceeded to walk down the hallway we cautiously followed the sound of the music. At the end of the hallway there appeared to be a light coming out of one of the rooms. As we quietly approached the room the music got louder. The door was slightly ajar and we noticed it was different from all the others, it was painted blue with a tall topiary plant on each side. There was a bright velvet red carpet at the doorstep, a beautiful antique exterior lamp fixture hanging on the wall above a shiny gold engraved nameplate that read, "Madame Cockman".

We cautiously looked through the small opening of the door.  The small room that was lit by one small window.  Under the window was a lady sitting in a rocking chair with her back towards us.  It looked like she was reading a book or maybe asleep.  She was finely dressed and humming to the music.  The room was finely decorated, it looked like a queens bedroom that you would see in a royal chateau.

My father and I looked at each other in dismay,  at the same time we both whispered, "Madame Cockman". That was our landlord and she is supposed to be someplace in South America with her wealthy husband but evidently, she was living here in one of the Chambres de Bonne.  We were going to knock on the door but hesitated, my Father, the diplomat that he was, didn't want to embarrass her so we quietly left without her noticing our presence.

When we got back to our apartment, we told the family the whole story. We pondered over our discovery of Madame Cockman for several days. Several days later, my father had a revelation, he remembered the mystery of the long distance telephone calls to South America.  We put two and two together and realized that the calls were somehow being initiated by Madam Cockman, but how?  My father reported the incident to the U.S. Embassy and they decided to investigate.

Several weeks later the verdict came in.  Evidently, Madame Cockman still had a key to our kitchen backdoor.  When no one was home, she would let herself in and use our telephone to call her husband in South America.  I guess she assumed that no one would ever question the American Ambassador's phone bill. Several days later, Madame Cockman showed up at our front door and gave a lengthy "lame" excuse for her actions to my parents.  My parents didn't really care about the phone bill because their concern was the fact that she was entering our home while we were away. My parents demanded the key but she refused based on the fact that she was the rightful owner but agreed not to enter without prior notification and supervision.  The case of the long distance phone bill was solved and Madame Cockman was exposed.

I honestly don't remember a lot about the apartment.  Since we were already in our third year in Paris, we had all acclimated to our surroundings in our own ways.  I was very involved in school sports so I was always at practice after school or traveling to compete someplace in Europe.  I was also very interested in photography throughout or time in Paris.  Religiously, every weekend my best friend Adrian and I would explore someplace in Paris and photograph everything and anything.  I specialized in only black and white film and I had an extensive collection of negatives that sadly got lost somewhere in the shuffle between Paris and the other places I moved to throughout the years.   During this time, my sisters were both attending the American College of Paris (which now is the American University of Paris).  They were actively busy with friends, traveling on a ski trip in the Italian Alps, sunbathing on a beach in Spain or entertaining the troops at the U.S. Marine Base.  My parents continued to entertain UNESCO's diplomatic core on a weekly basis or were busy hosting out of town guests. 

Our final days in Paris came to an abrupt end during spring break of April 1979.  We were given less than a week to say our final goodbyes to friends before we departed.  During that time, we had several guests visiting us, my sister Carmen and two family friends. One night we went bar hopping down the Champs Elysee. My goal was to drink one beer from every cafe, I can't say that I really remember all the details of that night but I do remember being hoisted up on my friends shoulders and tearing down the "Quai Anatole France" wooden street sign off the side of the building.  Needless to say, 46 years later, I still cherish my souvenir and it is a constant reminder of my fondest days living in Paris, France.

Discovering an Underground German Nazi Hideout

While I attended the American School of Paris I had an American friend who's Father worked for the American Embassy and had been stationed in Paris for many years.  Jacques Guidry was his name, and he lived in the outskirts of Paris in the city of St. Cloud.

One day Jacques told me and my other friends that near his house there was a old tree in an empty field and next to the tree was a deep hole.  We asked him how deep was the hole and he said very deep, so deep that when he looked in there with a flashlight, he couldn't see the bottom.  All of us were intrigued by what could be down there.  Some of us guessed that it was an old water bed, others guessed it was a bat cave.  The curiosity was killing us so we decided we would meet up on a weekend, come prepared with rope and flashlights and venture down into the mysterious hole.

I told my Father about the hole next to the tree and he too became interested and I convinced him to come along with us, it didn't take a lot to convince him so he agreed.  On a Saturday morning we drove out to an undisclosed location and met my friend Jacques. He and a couple of the other guys were already waiting and we were all eager to start our spelunking adventure.

My Father recommend that we tie one end of the longest rope around the base of the tree and the other end around our waist and slowly drop into the hole.  Jacques was the smallest person, so we volunteered him.  Equipped with a flashlight, we slowly lowered him down into the hole, he used a steep dirt wall to climb down and without a rope it would be impossible.  Throughout his descent, we constantly asked him if he was okay.  When he finally touched the bottom he yelled up to us to send the next person down.  Each person followed Jacques' footstep until the last one was down.

When we arrived at the bottom we were flabbergasted.  We had entered a huge cavern.  At the bottom there was very fine smooth dirt and no rocks.  As we looked up, we estimated we were approximately 40-50 feet below the surface and without the flashlights it was pitch black except for the little light coming in from the hole at the top.  As we grouped together at the bottom, we decided to take all precautions, since it was so dark, we would all stick together, and we would place a metal stake where we stood and tie a string to it.  As we explored the cave, we would unravel the string, always knowing where we started.

The cave was pitch black, every time we turned off the flashlight, we couldn't even see our hands in front of our face. There were several large tunnels both wide and tall that went in different directions, we choose to follow one tunnel.  As we walked through the tunnel we noticed something very strange, there were wires that ran along the top of the walls. My Father was in the Army Corps of Engineers and he confirmed that the wires were telephone lines.  Following the tunnel deeper in, we came to a large cave opening.  Shinning our flashlights into the opening we discovered a large room with about 10 bunk beds along the walls.  The bunk beds were made of metal but oddly they were not rusted some of them still had a mattress but no bed coverings.  In between the bunk beds there were large metal boxes separating the next set of bunks.  We assumed the boxes contained the answers to the mystery, we all got excited and held our breath as we slowly opened the first box. To our disappointment, when we lifted the lid of the box, it was empty, we all let out a deep sigh of disappointment.  Box after box was empty and this made it more mysterious and peeked our curiosity even more.  Why were there bunk beds down here, who was living down here and where did they they go? These were the questions we kept asking ourselves as we walked further down the dark tunnel passage.

Back in the main tunnel we came across another smaller cave.  As we all directed our flashlights on the room it appeared to be set up as an office.  Against the wall, was a old metal desk with a chair, empty file cabinets and several old chairs scattered throughout the room.  Strangely, there were no markings on anything we found so the mystery of the Who, What and Why was still mounting?

As we proceeded deeper into the tunnel corridor, we came to another cave.  This cave was like the first one, bunk beds and metal storage trunks in between the rows of bunks.  Again we cautiously opened a trunk and to our surprise and excitement, this one contained items in it.  

The contents appeared to be military stuff.  We pulled out a helmet and to our amazement, there was a red, white and black German Nazi Swastika emblem.  There was a belt, parts of a military uniform and a pair of dusty boots.  A few other trunks contained items too.  Now the mystery was solved, this was somekind of underground German Nazi military command post. 

All of us were very excited with our new discovery.  We figured that no one had discovered or been down here since WWII, or if someone had already discovered it, why did they leave such valuable items behind?

Further down the tunnel we came to another opening, all at once we shinned our flashlights into the cave to see what we would find and to our surprise there were several old vehicles.  The vehicles were 1930's vintage convertible Mercedes Benz's.  They were faded, dusty and a little rusty but otherwise seemed to be in good working condition.  There was a large Nazi Swastika emblem on the passenger and driver side doors.  We jumped in the cars and pretended that we were driving them.  The question remained, how did these vehicles get down into these tunnels and why?

We proceeded down the tunnel but to our surprise we came to a complete stop.  The tunnel ended to what a appeared to be a solid hand-made brick wall.  

After much speculation we determined that at one time, there was an opening in the tunnel but it had been filled in with bricks to seal off the opening but who would have done this, the Germans or the French?

Coincidentally, we were out of string and we were at a dead end.  Our excitement level was extremely high and we decided to turn around and follow our string back to the beginning.  On our way back, we all expressed our own theories of our new discovery and we kept asking ourselves if we were the first people to discovery this hideout since WWII.  The mystery continued and we wanted answers. We interrogated my Father with question after question but he too, was at a loss.

We arrived back to our original starting point and now we had to decide who was going up first.  We decided that little Jacques should go first again so that he could figure the best way for us to exit.  He grabbed the rope and using the wall he climbed the steep incline back up to the hole and sunlight.  My Father followed him, so that he could help assist us when we got to the top.  When the last one of us was brought out of the hole we dusted ourselves off and each and everyone of us had the biggest smile on our face.  As far as we were concerned we just discovered a major historical jackpot.

Before we departed, one big question still remained, how did those vehicles get inside the cave?  My Father decided we would get in the car and drive around to see what the surrounding area looked like.  What we discovered was that the cave was built next to a river bed so we drove to the other side of the river to see what the area looked like from the other side.  As we approached the area that we determined was where the underground tunnels were located, we noticed that 30 feet up the cliff side was a faded brick arch opening built into the side of the cliff. Collectively, we concluded that at one time in history, there must have been a flowing river running through what was now an dry empty river bed.  The Germans must have come by boat, blasted a hole in the cliffs, made tunnels and established a wartime command post. The cars and troops must have come by boat, unloaded into the tunnel opening and was used as a hideout from the French and Allied Forces.  We had it all figured out and now we were ready to go home and share the news.

The next school day, we decided we were going to share our discovery with our gym teacher because he was always sharing history stories to our class and we thought he was a cool guy.  We figured he could arrange for us to go back and collect some the relic military items that we left behind.  After we briefed him and gave him the location he was super excited and said he was going to schedule a trip out there with us and bring back the goods.  We were all proud of ourselves and were excited to show him our discovery.

A couple of weeks had passed and we were still anxious about our trip to the underground hideout mainly because there were other tunnels that we didn't explore and who knows what other hidden treasures were down there.

Weeks later, on a Saturday morning, I got a call from one of the friends and he said read today's newspaper, I found the newspaper and opened it to the local section and to my amazement, there was a large article about a hidden WWII German Nazi hideout that was discovered by none other than our gym teacher.  What a Rat Fink!  There he was, in front of the tree with a big smile on his face. We couldn't wait to confront him on Monday morning.

On Monday morning, we all met in front of the gym, took a deep breath and all together we entered the gym. When he saw us, he was all smiles and gloating.  I think he thought we were going to congratulate him or something, instead we came face-to-face and asked him why he went out to the site without us and more importantly, why he called the Press to report our discovery.  He basically laughed at us and told us it was no big deal and that it was better that an adult reported it as opposed to teenagers, just like that.

We were all so disappointed and really felt betrayed.  We soon found out that the entire area had been quarantined and the French Government had taken control over the Cave and it's contents.  To this day I have never been able to find out any further information on our discovery.  I have read about many other underground hideouts around France and other European cities but not our specific hideout.

Christmas in a Traditional Way

Our first Christmas in Paris was such a memorable time of the year.  Winter was approaching and I never realized that Paris got so cold.  As a matter of fact, to my surprise it snowed in early December.  It wasn't a heavy snow fall but nevertheless, the City of Lights was blanketed overnight with a layer of white wintry snow.  

Coming from Virginia, we were accustomed to snow but it was quite unusual for snow in Paris. To our dismay, the Parisians seemed delighted and fell into stride and never missed a beat, the daily local shopping, and the hustle and bustle of transportation never lost momentum.  Once the snow melted the city streets looked a little cleaner and fresher and seemed to be a breath of fresh air.

Christmas was a week away and all of our schedules were busy. On a brisk Saturday morning we decided to get into the Christmas mood so we headed out into the city to find a Christmas tree lot.  Sure enough not far from our Rue du Bac apartment was a very festive area where trees were being sold.  The fresh air combined with the scents of evergreen, cinnamon and holly was overwhelming and surely enhanced our Christmas spirit.  

My Father and I pulled tree after tree out for my sisters and Mother to inspect  but very few passed the test, finally we found the perfect tree and we carried it home.  We lived on the second floor of the apartment complex and maneuvering the fluffy tree up a narrow staircase was not an easy task but with perseverance we managed.

Because our apartment was considered an historic residence, placing the tree in the living room was out of the question so the most likely place was in the formal dinning room.  The dinning room had floor to ceiling window doors that overlooked the street below.  This ended up being the perfect spot because once it was decorated with ornaments and lights you could clearly see it from the street level below.

Throughout the week we did our Christmas shopping at the local department stores of Primtemps, Samaritan and the Au Bon Marche.  At night it was especially beautiful and festive.  Christmas was in the air all around the City, stores, markets, apartments and parks were decorated and lit with colorful Christmas lights.  

Although we were far away from our family and friends in the United States and we wouldn't be celebrating in our accustomed traditional way, we embraced our surroundings and continued as a small happy family in Paris.

On Christmas eve we decided to make it as festive as possible.  As the U.S. Ambassador my Father and Mother were invited to several holiday celebrations and so they made their diplomatic appearance but returned home before it got too late. We were invited to attend midnight mass at church where one of my Father's staff members was a Choir member and was participating in their Christmas special.  We had never attended church on Christmas eve but we all decided it would be a memorable event. It was a very cold evening and it felt like snow in the air so we bundled up and walked through the city and made our way to the church.  It was truly a remarkable performance.  The choir was made up of friar monks and they performed authentic chants that encapsulated our spirit and soul. The sound of the monks voices resonated throughout the church taking advantage of the acoustics created within the Medieval architecture and design. 

We celebrated midnight Christmas day in a French Medieval church. It was ominous and the most joyous moment for all of us.  On our walk back home we talked about the performance as we enjoyed all the little shops still lit and decorated.  We were cold and hungry.  We stopped at a local Creperie that was still open.  Inside it was dimly lit but it was warn and cozy. 

We ordered different types of crepes to share, some stuffed with ham and cheese, some with powdered sugar and others with chocolate.  Since we were still cold from walking outside we decided to order hot cider figuring it would take the chill out of our bodies. 

We never drank hot cider before but it was so good and the more we drank the happier we got.  What we didn't realize was that the cider was fermented and contained a high level of alcohol content and the more we drank the drunker we became.  Our walk home seemed never ending but for some reason none of us where cold any longer.  When we got back home early Christmas day morning, we exchanged gifts and opened them with great joy and appreciation for each other and with our amazement that we were celebrating our first Christmas in Paris, France.

The Christmas season in Paris was magical.  The city becomes a celebration of lights, decorations and overwhelming scents of food, pastry's , ciders, evergreen, cinnamon and all the other festive things that awaken all of the human senses.

After the holidays, Paris became normal again.  Everyone settled into their normal routines and the city transformed itself into it's tourist self.  Since the holiday came to an end we decided to get rid of the Christmas tree.  As we were taking the decorations off the tree, the needles were dropping to the floor and making a mess.  We imagined what kind of mess we would create if we tried to carry it through the apartment and down the stairs, through the courtyard and out to the street for pickup.  My Father came up with a brilliant idea, let's open the window door and drop the tree to the street.  I was sent outside to make sure that the sidewalk was clear of pedestrians.  My Father lifted the tree over the balcony and on my command he let is go.  The tree came down from the second floor with a swooshing sound and came to an abrupt stop. The tree was standing straight up but when it hit the sidewalk, every single needle on the tree fell to the ground.  Within seconds the tree was bare to the branches and nothing was left but the skeleton.  I looked up at my Father, his eyes were bigger that saucers and we began laughing uncontrollably for minutes afterwords. To this day, every time we retell the Christmas tree story we laugh and laugh as it still remains one of the highlights of our first Christmas in Paris.

Rue de la Faisanderie

The U.S. Ambassador's Residence

The next day after we arrived in Paris, which was actually the first real day in Paris, I woke up bright and early.  The previous night when we were walking around looking for a place to dine, I walked into a Tabac and purchased the "Parisian Handbook". A little red hardback book that contained a map and coordinates of the Paris Arrondismonts (districts) in detail.  Excited and awake, I looked out the hotel windows and was happy to see that it was a beautiful sunny day. Even though our official residence was not ready for us to move into, we were given the address of the formal residence so that we could become familiar with the surrounding area.  While the rest of the family were sound asleep I was going stir crazy sitting in the hotel room, so I grabbed my little red book and off I went to locate our new home on 79 Rue de la Faisanderie.

As I made my way downstairs, French music was quietly playing in the background, I can still remember the distinct smell of sweet citrus in the entire hotel as businessmen excitedly roamed around. It was an early weekend morning and the outside temperature was perfect. There were so many different sounds surrounding me, cars honking, ambulances sirens, scooters, people walking their dogs, everyone smoking, children running, and all the delectable smells coming from all the different restaurants, there was excitement in the air and there was hustle and bustle all around.

Wearing my American Levis blue jeans, a T-shirt, converse sneakers, and a blue windbreaker, I felt a little out of place.  As I observed the Parisians, they all appeared to be dressed up, it was the mid seventies and everyone looked like they came out of a fashion magazine. As I navigated down the Champs Elysee, the sidewalks were already crowded with tourists and you could see the locals staring me down. I crossed over to Avenue Foch, a wide avenue with over sized sidewalks and small grassy patches with decorated gardens scattered throughout.  The apartments on Avenue Foch were some of the most expensive apartments in Paris belonging to movie stars, politicians, diplomats and the city's elite. 

The map I was following was very accurate and I was making good headway to my final destination.  After passing an outdoor magazine, newspaper shop I turned left onto Rue de la Faisanderie located in the 16th Arrondismont, on the Rive Gauche (Right Bank) of Paris.  It is well known as one of the more prestigious areas to live in the city.  Most of the Embassy's are located within this area and many government officials reside there.

Rue de la Faisanderie was like other cobblestone streets with concrete sidewalks a narrow two lane street with tall buildings on each side of the street, the first big building I came to was the Iraqi Embassy with a tall solid green door.  Later that year, there was a terrorist hostage situation, the French police had blocked off the whole area and blasted down the door and shot everyone inside.  I came to learn that the French did not tolerate terrorists and did not believe in negotiating, their strategy was to shoot and kill, it sent a strong message not to mess with them.  

In general, in Paris every building is architecturally unique in its own way and I was just in awe of each building facade.  Strolling down the street, I kept looking for our address.  I noticed that there was a constant flow of police cars going up and down the street,  I wondered if something further up the street had happened but I came to find out that there was a busy police station located in the middle of the beautiful buildings. As I approached the station, there were several Gendarmes (French Policemen) standing out front talking and and of course, cigarettes dangling from their lips. As I walked past them, they sized me up and down and then went back to their business. When I looked up, I at was at my destination.  79 Rue de la Faisanderie, right next door to a busy police station.  I couldn't believe it, I looked down at the map, then back up towards the building to verify the address...yes indeed right next door to a busy Parisian Police station.

Mission accomplished! I was so proud of myself that I followed my handy "red book" walked through the city and successfully located our new residence.  I knew the house was vacant so I checked out the exterior and admired it's unique beauty and decided to explore my new neighborhood and was excited to see our future surroundings.  After a couple of hours exploring, I figured I should get back to the hotel because the rest of the family would wake up and find me missing and wouldn't know my whereabouts.

Once back at the hotel, I told the family about my adventure and everyone was excited to have me guide them to our new residence. Like a local, I guided everyone through the busy streets and pointed out unique buildings and landmarks along the way.  So according to the U.S. Embassy, while the French were doing construction on a Russian School next door and in the process their wrecking ball hit the side of our residence and it caused some interior and exterior damage, therefore, we were not allowed to move in until the repairs were completed. 

   

When we arrived at the residence, we were all excited to enter our new home but to our dismay my father did not have a key and we sighed with disappointment. Out of desperation, he knocked on the door several times and to our amazement the door slowly opened to a sliver and we could only see a small eyeball staring at us.  In English, my father introduced himself, "Hello, I'm the U.S. Ambassador and this is my house". The door opened a little wider and now we could see a little old lady standing at the door.  She looked very confused and was speaking French in a quiet voice.  Of course we didn't understand a word she was saying so in his broken French, my father tried to explain that he was the new U.S. Ambassador and this was his residence, but the lady did not understand and kept saying no no, the Ambassador is not home.  They went back and forth with neither of them understanding one another when  suddenly, a police officer from next door interrupted and he spoke a little English so he was able to translate.  My father explained who he was and the officer translated the information to the lady. Finally, the lady understood and was embarrassed and apologetic and welcomed us into the residence.  As it turned out, the lady's name was Gracia, she was an Italian immigrant and was the maid for the previous embassy family that had vacated several months prior to our arrival.  When my father reported back to the embassy, he mentioned that he went to the residence and was greeted by the live-in maid they were shocked because when the previous family left, all of the staff were dismissed and evidently she stayed without the embassy's knowledge. 

It took four months before the damages to the residence were repaired and we were given the green light to move in.  By that time, we were tired of living out of suitcases and hotels and we were so excited to finally settle into a real home.

The Faisanderie mansion is a notable example of a Parisian hotel particular from the Belle Epoque era, On September 13, 1972, the mansion was officially listed as a French national heritage site (monument historique).

Daily life at Faisanderie...

Faisanderie was a five story stand alone building.  The first and lowest level was the kitchen and storage area.  This is where the full-time chef, Theresa prepared our dinners and the butler George spent most of his time assisting her by prepping meals while he enjoyed the fine wine supplied by the embassy.

The second floor at ground level was the main floor.  The butler's corner was hidden behind the formal dining room and had direct access to a dumb waiter that was used to send the meals from the kitchen to the awaiting butler upstairs.  The butler would unload the dumbwaiter and stage the meals to be served. The formal dinning room was massive.  The dining table comfortably sat 18 people, my mother sat at the head of one end of the table and my father sat at the opposite head of the table.  Directly under the table at the foot of my mother's chair was a floor switch that when depressed would ring a bell in the butler corner which notified him that we were ready for the next entree serving or if someone needed a refill of water or wine, basically, My mom was the dinner quarterback who's responsibility during family or formal diplomatic dinners was to coordinate a smooth dinner event. My mother also had the responsibility of planning our family meals and private diplomatic dinners. Based on the daily menu, the Chef would shop at the local markets and pick out the necessary items needed to prepare the meal. The butler was responsible for setting the table, serving the food and drink and cleaning up after dinner was over.  The table was set with personalized gold trim china that was embossed with the U.S. Ambassador's Seal.  Each dinner setting consisted of an entree, salad and bread plate, a soup bowl if required, silverware, and a separate crystal glass for water and wine.  The dinnerware also included the appropriate platters and accompanying serving dishes.  Our butler George would formally come to our right side, announce our name, "Mr. Steve", holding the serving platter while we selected our food. There was a science to all of this formality, prior to arriving in Paris, our family had to attend a private class at the U.S. Department of State teaching us proper diplomatic etiquette and protocol.

Towards the front of residence windows facing the street was a sunken living room that served as the formal grand salon mainly used when diplomat events were held in the residence.  It was a little sparse with furniture mainly because during most events, people would stand rather than sit. Immediately off the dining room were tall French doors that led to an enclosed outdoor courtyard that had a water fountain in the center and planters along the side. Directly off the dining room was an indoor walkway corridor that led to a large salon located in back of the residence.  The salon had a large fireplace located on one side and a large stage on the other side.

In the early 1920's Frank Jay Gould, the son of the American railroad tycoon Jay Gould married the French mezzo-soprano Florence La Caze (stage name Florence Conrad).  After marrying in 1923, they kept a separate residence at Faisanderie in Paris and hosted salons in their French residence as she and her husband collected French impressionists paintings.  They also kept an open marriage which allowed her to take lovers such as Charlie Chaplin.

Florence La Caze Gould (1 July 1895 – 28 February 1983) was an American writer and salon-holder who became involved in a money laundering plot before creating a legacy as a patron of the arts at institutions such as the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  She held a salon at Faisanderie during the German occupation of Paris and entertained many French intellectuals and German officers and narrowly escaped high treason charges in 1945.

During their time of residence, Frank built her an opera room located in the back of residence adjoined by an enclosed hallway where their artwork hung from the walls.  The opera room was acoustically designed and it was complete with a stage. 

This was the main room I hung out in when I was alone or with friends because when I was alone I used the stage area to practice my classical guitar music or jam with my electric guitar because the acoustics were excellent.  Also, we shipped our billiard table from our home in the States and set it up on the stage so when my friends visited, we kept ourselves entertained.

The second level was the entire master bedroom suite. This is where my parents slept. When you entered through the tall double doors there was a large sitting area with a large marble fireplace. It was furnished with a sofa, wing back chairs, tables and lamps. Beyond the sitting was another set of double doors that led to a large bedroom adjoined to a private ornate bathroom. 

On the third level was my bedroom, it was located on the backside of the residence. It was nothing special, it had a private bathroom and a small balcony that overlooked the back courtyard and more notably, there was a clear view of the back parking lot of the Police station.  There was constant action going on morning, day and night.  On many occasions I was woken up in the middle of the night or early morning by screaming prostitutes or irate drunkards that were brought to the station for interrogation or booking.

The fourth level was another large bedroom where my sister's, Camille and Selina slept.  We spent a lot of time in their room with friends because they had a stereo system and we listened to the latest American LP's that we purchased from the French music store, Finac or from the embassy's commissary.

The fifth and final level was designated as the "servants" quarters.  Although none of our help lived with us, there were three small rooms and a shared bathroom and a large attic. We rarely visited the fifth floor but on several occasions, house guests did stay there.

We had great memories while living at Faisanderie. As the U.S. Ambassador's residence, we were the hub for Americans passing through Europe and needing a place to stay.  We had many house guests who visited from the U.S. and some who came from other European countries. My parents usually hosted two or three diplomatic  events during the week.  Some events were cocktail only while others were full sit down dinners.  Depending on the size of the event, the Embassy would send over additional butlers and cooks to help out our regular staff.  I was just getting interested in photography at the time and during these events, I roamed through the crowd photographing all of the guests. Later that night I would go into my darkroom and develop the film and make prints. 

Although this was to be our permanent residence during my father's five year mission, our luxurious lifestyle at Faisanderie lasted approximately one year and then it came to an abrupt end. Because it was an older building, maintenance crews were constantly showing up and coming in and out at all hours of the day and start drilling, hammering or doing something loud and annoying. So eventually, my mother complained and the Embassy arranged for us to relocate.  The nice thing about moving was that we never had to pack or physically move anything because the embassy took care of everything. 

Our next stop was to the left bank on Rue Du Bac in the 7th Arrondismont.