Category Archives: Paris with Lydia June 2013

June 2 2013

Well I really am pouting myself now. After going all of the way to the US to visit Chagall (and they couldn’t find them) they were around the corner from my damn hotel in Paris – but when did I find them – hmmm ten minutes before we needed to leave, on our stroll back to the hotel to pick up our bags. When the terribly unhelpful person in New York at MOMA told me they could be in Luxembourg I took her at her word. Very unlike me not to follow up with a Google search but they were in Luxembourg, Musée du Luxembourg in Paris – the whole damn collection … ohhh the first time that I have felt like stamping my feet since we went away. I couldn’t even run in for 5 minutes as it was free entry to the museum day in Paris so the lines were a km long.

Anyway, it means I have to now plan a trip to find every Chagall in every part of the world but send emails first to make sure they haven’t been misplaced.

We had a lovely French Sunday morning. A stroll to visit our neighbor Da Vinci and co and then bread and cheese in a lovely quiet courtyard beside a gorgeous church. It was quite peaceful sitting there with the pigeons for company. A nun and her family were also having a picnic and it felt very civilized to be sitting in a churchyard in Paris on a Sunday morning. We joined the Parisian dog walking club and strolled the neighborhood streets. Being Sunday morning we thought we had better fulfill our church going responsibilities so visited St Sulpice as you do when strolling in Paris. The smell of incense told us we were in a very traditional Sunday morning service and the artwork made it clear we were definitely in Europe. The two half shells at the doorway resting on Pigalle sculptures.

Feeling quite pious we wandered back to the hotel and started that horrible part of any journey – every time I do it I vow and declare next time I am only taking 5kg. Now we really didn’t take that much but in a surely enlightened age it totally intrigues me how many railway stations in the UK and Europe don’t have lifts. Heaven help us how you would manage in a wheelchair. Well after dragging cases up and down stairs (Oh I really hate it) we finally reached the station – our next challenge machines selling tickets on the other side of the barrier but you need a ticket to get in – well I probably should have been arrested (or more likely broken my leg) as I had to climb over the gate to get a ticket to get in the gate – not very Parisian or lady like. Lyd and I have discussed at length how hard it is in Paris without French. All of the Parisians that we met had fantastic English but they definitely don’t use it unless really pushed. I think it is part of the reason why I love Italy so much – it is so much easier. Anyway, we eventually arrived at Gard Du Nord. Weird that you clear French passport control, and two metres later clear UK passport control. An easy train trip to King’s Cross.

It is quite good that QANTAS and BA have had a falling out as we are sitting in the much more civilized American Airlines lounge. Far less crowded than the BA one and much better service. Quite looking forward to the 22 hour flight – we have been so damn busy it will be just nice to sit. I forgot to post up the great photo that I took over the Italian Alps so have added it here. We have had a fantastic time but I think are both looking forward to coming home. My only disappointment is that the machines have replaced real people at Tullamarine. I always thought there was something rather nice about the Aussie accented passport person saying Gidday – Welcome home.

June 1 2013

The very gorgeous Parisian three-year-old Madeline who had already perfected the Parisian pout. We sat in the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg watching the precious tot with the Parisian bob with her hands on her hips defy her papa. Les enfant Madeline refused to leave Marie de Medicis small flotilla of petite ships and so stood her ground with her Parisian pout as papa walked in the other direction doing what every papa should do – ignore his pouting three year old. But, alas papa walked right across the grounds and Madeline just turned her back with her arms crossed and thought ‘silly man of course he will be back’. Well this little girl hadn’t been to the school of twelve little girls in two straight lines as she just stood her ground. Of course, her ageing, doting papa came back and Madeline stamped her foot and waved her finger at him – oh poor papa when Madeline becomes the short black skirted, fish net stockinged, tattooed goth that look oh so cool in the Parisian street. Although perhaps she is destined to be the very gorgeous, 50s styled redheaded, checked frocked, beret wearing, lipstick pouting young things strolling the streets near the Sorbonne. We had a lovely time in Marie’s garden after a wonderful morning in Amalie’s Montmartre.  The sun was pouring down as we looked at the same view as Dali, Monet, Picasso and Van Gogh. It was just gorgeous sitting on the steps listening to the wonderful haunting harp play my favourites – Canon in D, Cohen’s Hallelujah and my absolute favourite, that I have hummed since we arrived – Piaf’s La Vie en rose. After the great views we moved ourselves pretty quickly away from the sale of gaudy Eiffel towers and the inevitable copy handbags and walked down one of my favourite streets rue des Martyns. We stopped at the KB café shop, a lovely place to sit outside and eat our truly beautiful baguettes and fresh juice. The sun was shining and what more would one want to do on a Saturday afternoon.

After our lizard rest in the sun we walked down to the 9^th arrondissement to gaze up at the Chedanne designed Belle Epoch shopping mecca. I have often wondered how stores such as the beautiful Galeries Lafayette manage to earn their reputed one billion euros. Well the queue of Asian tourists waiting and then leaving clutching their Louis Vuitton handbags probably provided the answer as they were also leaving Chanel and every other designer shop in droves completely weighed down with bags and parcels.

We came back for a short nap – I still feel quite crap – and then headed out in search of Paris’s best crepes – well so did everyone else in Paris as the wait was four hours. Well I am sure they are the best in Paris but we gave up and headed back to collect a picnic on the way. Baguettes, Roquefort, Camembert and the most delicious Tarte Poire Chocolat and Tarte Limón have us both now lying on the bed complaining that we have really over done it!

Our neighbours are Da Vinci and Monet. Well, the wonderful places that house their masterpieces. We are holed up on the Seine between Saint-Germain Des Pres and the Quartier Latin on the left bank. But, I would have as much hope of speaking Latin as I would French. Thank goodness Lydia can say je ne parles pas francais.  I just have a dumb stupid look when people ask us for directions. I don’t know why on earth anyone would think we are French as we have the map and GPS constantly in our hands. We spent our first night in a little café just around the corner. Our wander back along the twinkling lights of the Seine reminded us we were indeed in Paris.

We woke and walked for miles. Through the Quartier Montorgueil – a total foodie paradise. We stopped at 51 rue Montorgueil to look at the most fabulous patisserie, Paris’s oldest. The chocolate éclair and mille feuille seemed to have our name on them but we resisted their call. We wandered through Le Marais and Les Halles for hours. We could have well and truly eaten the whole front window of La Maison Stohrer the amount of walking we did. Along Rue du Faubourg we strolled and scoured the streets in the triangle to Avenue Parmentier. Marche des Enfants rouge, the oldest food market in Paris. The market has existed since 1615 and was named after the red uniform worn by the children of the neighbouring orphanage. Well the sights, sounds and smells of Paris were all intermixed with Moroccan, French, Italian, and Japanese cuisine, and exceptionally malodorante poisson competing with the wonderful fromage. The Parisians (or probably US tourists) were all sitting along the pavement sucking on their gauloises with their glasses full – the adage it is five o’clock somewhere in the world so appropriate as the wine glasses are as full at 9am as midnight. Well we were once again reminded we were in Paris with the sparkly collared chien enjoying his gauloises sitting on his chic Parisian madams knee in a very chic Bistrot.

We wandered on into Pere Lachaise. I think Lydia thought I was a bit weird wanting to wander through the beautiful Parisian tombs but a trip to Paris for me would not be complete without visiting Abelard and Heloise. We popped by to say hello to Jim and Oscar and then strolled back for a much shorter nap of our own.

La Tour Eiffel was peering over the top of buildings as we headed on foot in that direction. Through the Jardin des Tuileries and then up (and down) more than 700 steps to look out across the beautiful city in the evening sunlight.