oh la Paris

---

Now that we (Finally) have our passports returned - and are both now officially recognized as residents of the EU we can get on with our much postponed travel.

First stop has got to be that most romantic of cities, a place of beautiful architecture and sensual language - just perfect to spend our ten year anniversary (actually 7th July 2006, but we’ve been waiting for that passport).

Off to Pairs we flew (yes, next time we’ll take the Eurostar - it’s much easier), straight from work one Thursday afternoon. After a long journey into town, through dirty and unwelcoming tube stations (London seems much safer in comparison), we emerge from the underground and turn around to see the fairytale scene of The Paris Opera house lit up at night, with the Christmas lights of le Printemps and Les Galeries Lafayette twinkling in the background. Magic! What better welcome could we have asked for?

After being given directions by many helpful French people we made it to our very nice, clean, boutique hotel nearby and went to bed without one example of the stereotypical French rudeness - in fact just the reverse.

The next morning, we set off on our “tourist day”. Not feeling French enough for a pastry for breakfast just yet, we enjoyed a lovely buffet in our hotel before departing to le Pont St Louis, near Notre Dame for our four hour walking tour. After walking about 10 - 15km on the tour, we felt we’d seen and learnt much about the key sites, Notre Dame, de la Tour Eiffel, the Louvre (did you know it is 2km walk form the end of one wing of the museum to the other?), le Place de la Concorde, Sainte Chapelle, le Pont Neuf and so on. Even better that the other two people on the tour dropped out at lunch time - and so we had the guide to our very own.

It was time to return to the Louvre for a closer look at some of our favourites. Originally we’d planned to take a tour, but after the guided walk we were all toured out, so attempted to do it ourselves, visiting the key tourist attractions - with the plan that we’ll go back and visit some other sections on another visit. Having been there before I did my best to act as Brendon’s personal guide, taking him to Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory, The Wedding Feast at Cana (a massive painting by Paolo Veronese), The Raft of Medusa, wandering past the thousands of paintings of Mary and Jesus and some pretty funky statues - including the Winged Lovers (Cupid and Psyche) sculpture. Where my memory let me down (often) I just referred to nearby manuals or listened in on other tour groups, gleaning information as we went. It was a lot of fun, but after a whole day on our feet we were exhausted.

As you might know, food is very important to both of us - particularly ‘on tour’ when we find the food, eateries, and diners themselves tell us so much about the culture of a particular place. Keen to get away from the tourists, we took our guide’s advice, went to the area around the Bastille and found a restaurant where we were the only ones not conversing in fluent French. Perfect. We then proceeded to have one of the most delicious meals we’d ever had - a delight to the taste buds - and one of the best priced meals we had in Paris. Starting with a shared entrée of pate de foie gras, Brendon had his first delicious taste of something truly French, followed by a beautiful venison stew and a bit of my main - melt in your mouth duck. We topped this off with a very French dessert - and somewhere along the line some lovely coffee. It was here that Brendon found a name for his perfect coffee - le noisette. Not hazelnuts as the name suggests, but espresso with a touch of milk. Being on holiday, and in France, we took our time, savoured each mouthful & watched the world go by. Heaven.

On our way back, at the bottom of the street of our hotel, we saw a small square filled with tables, some dim lights, people bustling round - what appeared to be a nighttime market. Only after I rushed over the road and up to the closest table did I see people dolloping food onto plates. It took another few seconds for the penny to drop. Not a lovely, dimly lit nighttime market. Dinner for the hundreds of local bums, some looking nearly respectable, others looking and smelling like they hadn’t had a bath or ‘un bain’ since they stopped wearing nappies. Time to move on, quick smart.

Too full to go to bed, we turned at the door of our hotel and decided to take our own walking tour by night. Our feet found their way down winding streets to the bright lights of Boulevard Clichy and onto (but not into) the Moulin Rouge before returning home for a good night’s sleep.

Saturday dawned much warmer than the frigid Friday had been, and we set off to breakfast and ‘un noisette’ for Brendon in our local patisserie. We hadn’t quite worked ourselves up to croissants or pain au chocolate but were getting closer. After breakfast we hit the shops. Starting at le Printemps, spending a long time in Les Galeries Lafayette foodhall, buying Christmas presents left right and centre, then relaxing with some fresh parma ham baguettes and some more noisette for Brendon. After this we tried to ‘get lost’, and found lots of lovely little shops, ending up quite some distance away at the markets around rue Sentier and rue Reaumur then onto the Pompideau Centre to get a glimpse of some spectacular views. Tip, if you go to the lift on the outside of the building, act confident & tell them that you’re going up to the café at the top, they let you up in the lift. I’m not quite sure what the big deal is, but they seemed to turn everyone away but us. Oh well, less people to get in the way of the spectacular view. Night time came, time to go home, shower & then off to dinner near the Paris Opera House.

Sunday, our last day, was crisp, bright and sunny, much like a lovely spring day back home. Perfect for a walk to Montmartre & the Sacre Coeur. Up we ventured, past the Carousel that was such a star of the movie Amalie, past the crowd of tourists, musician on the harpsichord and inevitable hawkers. Last time I went to Paris I had only ever traveled to Commonwealth countries, USA & many Pacific Islands, so was not used to dealing with beggars, gypsies, or the aggressive Africans. This time round, fresh from Asia, we found our ‘don’t mess with me’ expressions very easily and were left alone as people turned to easier pickings. Past the Sacre Coeur we wandered to the artists square, found ‘un patisserie’ and had our first French breakfast (although this too has become more of a touristy thing rather than what the French eat everyday). After sharing a pain au chocolate and an apple pastry I was well and truly over any more ideas of pastries for breakfast. What a pity that the only place that sold pastries in the square was run by not your typical Parisian but Chinese immigrants - and this being a tourist trap the prices were exorbitant for mediocre food. Still, we got to sit outside on a warm day and watch the world walk by. Nice.

A stroll through the back streets, a terse standoff against a gang of North Africans - waiting at the foot of the Montmartre stairs for unsuspecting tourists, like some bizarre game of bulrush - and then the lovely walk back through the beautiful Haussmann-style architecture to our hotel, the train, then the plane back to London. A wonderful end to a wonderful trip.

By taking our time we really got to see and appreciate what makes Paris beautiful. We also experienced a bit of the less pleasant side, much more aggression and what Brendon calls ‘freakanoids’ at the train stations, rude men staring brazenly and without shame, on and on, and those people who were waiting for tourists at the bottom of the stairs. We had only escaped them as we ascended the stairs as they were being interrogated by a group of police - and the raving yelling of their friend as he was held in the police car was enough to keep them all on good behaviour. In that respect, it was nice to return to London, which felt much safer. But we will miss our cafes, noisettes and time to sit and watch the world go by.

---

Photos

Sacre Couer
And that famous Carousel.

Who is that lovely French man?
Brendon clasps a noisette while watching teh world go by.

Fenetres en Paris
Grandma, this one's for you, to go with your Fenetres en Provence.

An iconic image
from inside the Notre Dame. Because it was just begging for a photo.

The Louvre - deserted for once
It's amazing what rain and near freezing temperatures can do to a crowd.

This is more like it - the people return - and the soldiers
One sad indictment on the way of the world was the presence of armed soldiers at every attraction – and the frequent checking of bags before we entered.

This one's for Rosemarie
One of the lovely statues on the Pont d'Alexandre. On my last trip to Europe, with my friend Rosemarie, she was fixated with angels - particularly as potential gifts for her sister Steph. This time round the angels, which can be seen in abundance, always reminded me of her. While the rest of the statues on the bridge looked more cupid-esque than this nymph-like one. They put me in mind of Rosie and the expression of this one seemed familiar.

Magical Window displays
What you can't see are all the crowds in front, rendering this a less than perfect photo, but at nightime, wlaking along the near deserted streets to our hotel these were all lit up and seemed magical. Look closely and you'll see pots and pans and more. All were dancing and signing, cooking, or falling over and every window had a different display.

How odd
On the corners of streets were little men playing those winde up pianos. Each man seemed to have a pet cat asleep in a babies' pram and each cat had it's own teddy bear. I wonder how many tourists they roped in this way?

Claire and Brendon
Yes Grandma, I am blond again. I hope you approve.