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| The view from our apartment |
I sit beside the bay window of our little 35
square foot apartment overlooking Montmartre, Paris. The morning sun is divine,
it’s been a grey few days but that faded pastel-like colour that the city takes
on, compliments its romantic mysticism. It’s Valentines weekend and I couldn’t
think of a more beautiful place to spend it, we’ve eaten escargot and frogs
legs, drank beautiful red Bordeaux, sipped on espresso’s and smoked cigarettes
in true Parisian style, with some sort of ancient architecture sitting casually
in the background – from the Eiffel tower to Notre Damn, I’ve fallen in love
all over again...
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| Walkabouts |
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| The rally |
Our Journey here wasn’t the smoothest – from
Bristol to London we missed our first bus, leaving us 20 minutes to catch the megabus, we gave in and called a taxi,
stopping by home for the second time to pick up a few things we’d inevitably
forgotten. J had slept funny on his neck the night before so spent the bus ride
dozing off to try and forget about the kink, while I tossed and turned, debating
whether or not it was appropriate to play dub inc. on loudspeaker as we’d both
lost our headphones… I decided against it when the man behind me made a few
obvious throat-clearing noises, obviously not feeling the valentines love just
yet.
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| Valentines roses |
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| Eiffel Tower |
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| Arc Du triomphe |
We arrived in London, had a quick bite at Victoria station, J opting for a burrito while I went for affordable sushi at
Wasabi, mmm. Arriving at my second home and feeling waves of nostalgia as I
thought of M and G relaxing on a beautiful beach in Rio J. It
was funny hearing about how our 14 year old brothers have all been experiencing
wild parties with drunk, messy kids; ‘why’s there always a group of girls
crying when they get drunk Jess?’ my brother asked me.. haha, I didn’t quite
know how to respond..
So we all caught up, had a cup of tea and
snuggled into bed with the thought of having to get up in 5 hours looming over
us…
Automatic-wake-up-mode at 5am, somehow the 20
minutes flew by with the achievement being putting on a pair of socks and
taking my bag downstairs. We get to the tube expecting the next one to be in 5
minutes according to TFL, so I rubbed my eyes when at first glimpse it read ’27
minutes’. With cortisol levels rising and my mind finally starting to wake up
we glanced at our Eurostar tickets to Paris and the words ‘be at check-in 30 minutes before departure’ stood out in Bold Times
New Roman. We had 30 minutes to go and were nowhere close. But being Jack and
Jill, we figured it out - jumping on the first tube/ train of the morning at
various stations, skipping the line at St.Pancreas, dealing with an embarrassing
moment when the lady at security rummaged through J’s bag to pull out metal
cuffs... great. She laughed; we ran and jumped onto our train 10 minutes before
it left. Phew…
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| Notre Dame in the background |
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| Fromaaageriee |
Crashing out after a bite for breakfast we
woke up in the land of the French, fight and flight mode kicking in as the
countdown began for finding our apartment before the lady with the keys left.
40 minutes – go. I hate how arguments usually start when you’re stressed out,
it’s those little bursts that get let out on the person your energy’s directed
at. So we bickered, trying to work out what all these French signs meant,
seeking solace with the street sweeper who was being blanked by the beautifully
dressed women walking passed him. With a huge smile he lead the way to ‘rue
caulincourt’, we pulled out the instructions for the apartment and looked up at
the dreaded staircase that we had to climb with our big backpacks. Needless to
say, the cold no longer affected us after the hike upstairs, we ripped off our
layers and dumped our bags to look upon the quaint one bedroom apartment that
looked over thousands of chimneys and beautiful balconies, stretching for miles
across the beautiful city. We talked through the nuts and bolts with the
landlord, lit incense and danced around; it’s great when it feels like midday
at 10am.
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| A sad song |
We dressed up, putting on a Parisian hat and red lipstick and wandered
the bustling streets, entering ‘little Africa’ in slight bewilderment at the
sudden culture shift from the Moulin Rouge that was only located 10 minutes
away. A huge part of the Parisian community consists of people of Maghrebi
or Sub-saharan African origin, as we walked past
‘blanche’ station we approached fast paced rhythmic drum beats and a huge
circle of people in a collective effervescent trance. We turned the corner and
entered a cool café, pin ups scattered the walls and melody gardot played in
the background. Being gluten intolerant in France wasn’t fun, walking past the
fragrant patisseries, oven baked pizzas and fresh pasta, but we managed. Steak
and chips was our first (and cheapest) meal where we met M, an Italian-Parisian
who gave us some local tips and translated the foreign menu – I didn’t realize
not speaking French would be this much of a problem. But to be honest, it’s
quite refreshing not feeling bombarded with information everywhere you look, it
allows you to focus on everything else. After our first glass of red, we saw
the bus we’d been told to catch and ran along beside it until the bus driver
stopped in the middle of the road (a few hundred metres before the bus stop) to
let us on. ‘Troquedero’ was our stop, the most cliché and essential site in
Paris where high in the sky stands, The Eiffel tower.
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| Escargot |
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| Moulin Rouge |
On the
walk from the bus stop we spotted a few other couples basking in the romance of
the scene, we walked through idyllic parks with stone statues of cupid and
crystal water flowing into the bowl that the birds were perched on. The Arc Du
Triomphe stood impressively in the centre of a huge intersection and
surrounding it marched army men, standing in groups and taking photo’s for a
commemoration of some sort. We walked up to it, gazing at the detailed scenes
of war and struggle, poppy reefs lay scattered at its base. The sun was slowly
going down and the clouds were clearing the way for the orange and pink hues to
shine through above the dark construction of the Eiffel tower. On first glance
I have to say it reminded me of a triangular construction site, but at a closer
glance you can see the magnificence of it’s height and stature next to the
rushing river and the huge buildings. We joined the tourists in snapping a few
memorable photo’s, J cringing slightly at the cheesiness of it all – but that
was the best part. We enjoyed a strong (6 Euro!?) espresso as the sun went down
and we listened to all the ‘beautiful sites’ we could go and see from a tour
guide (that didn’t seem to understand that 50Euros for an hour was not
something we could afford.)
On our way
home we made a few pit stops, the fromagerie for some camembert, goats cheese
and a mysterious French cheese we’d never tried before, baguettes (and rye
bread), chutney, strawberries, chocolate and wine. We climbed up the staircase
that didn’t feel any shorter, put on ‘Paradise’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5WkIHHY_ZIE) and settled into the night. Facebook
being the great connector that it is put us in touch with some friends from our
old home Kuala Lumpur and within the hour, we were having a drink and catching
up in their city before they ran to catch (and miss) the last train home.
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| Notre Dame |
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| Palestine demo |
We forgot
to set our alarm so woke up later than we’d have liked and ended up leaving the
house by 1pm – it’s ridiculous considering how much time it actually takes you
to get ready.. Notre Dame was on the list today, en-route we walked through a
Gaza demonstration and talked to a few passionate people about the situation in
Palestine and Israel – about 50 of them were getting ready to go out there and
help support the situation (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpxckJiTKqE)
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| The boys and I ;) |
Nearby was
a mime, painted head to toe in gold, with a top hat in front of him to place
your coins in. 1 Euro went into the hat and he sprung to life, handing jack and
I our respective crowns, leading me onto the alter and holding one hand as jack
kissed the other – we smiled for the camera and laughed at the whole situation as
we continued on, slowly approaching the most magnificently detailed building
I’ve ever seen. It took 180 years to build, passed on to different predecessors
as the carvings of Christian religious figures multiplied all over the inside
and outside of the building. We lined up, bought an audio-guide (that I would
not recommend) and stared in wonder at the circular stained glass windows that
shone multicoloured light onto the ‘crown of jewels’ and the crypts of the old
saints.
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| Beautiful stained glass |
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| Details on the Notre Dame |
I noticed the reoccurring squares and circles, later we were told the
circles represent the ethereal, spiritual world that’s infinite and never
ending, it’s the perfect shape for all things divine; the four corners of the square represented the
earth with it’s four seasons and four elements/ jesus’s physical presence on
earth. Parts of the building were made of green stone instead of the yellow stone that the rest of
the building was constructed of. We discovered that different parts of the
building had been renovated over time and this extended to many others in Paris
that we saw. On entering The Louvre – one of the most famous classical art museums
in the world (the house of the Mona Lisa) many statues had been renovated or
re-built because the originals had been so destroyed. It was heartbreaking
seeing so many of the beautifully carved faces of gods with their noses cut off
(due to iconoclasm – when people deliberately cause destruction to cultural
artefacts for political/ religious motives). Everything in life is temporary,
as are the most precious historical structures, no matter how hard we try to
preserve them.
The Notre
Dame tired us, and everything seemed to be closed at 3pm – I thought it was
only Spain that took siestas? One little café that inhaled tourists, was
serving France’s delicacy - frogs legs. They arrived and we tucked in with a
side of chips and salad, mmm they were delicious. The concept of eating a slimy
frog soon slipped our minds as the delicate chicken-like flesh fell off the
bones with the rich sauce that accompanied it. Belly’s full, energy re-loaded,
what was next..
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| The love bridge |
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| Writing on the lock |
We
wandered over to the love bridge where a man stood at the front selling locks
and keys, for 3 Euros we were handed a thick metal lock and a permanent marker,
we wrote our memoir, padlocked it to the center of the bridge opposite the
lamppost (choosing an easy location to remember for next time) and walked on,
having left our small mark among the hundreds and thousands of love locks that
each told a story.
10 minutes
later we realised we’d found the wrong love bridge and that many in the
surrounding area had been turned into the same thing, not that it really
mattered..
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Gotta have a bit of love
at the love bridge |
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| Our lock amongst many |
Walking
along the river there were many stalls set up, run by quiet old men that held
old posters, paintings and postcards – I gave in and bought one beautiful scene
of the Moulin Rouge surrounded by bustling crowds. Through countless beautiful
buildings we wandered, passing a man playing melancholic cello with a fair
women sitting beside him, with a serene look on her face as she swayed to the
music.
Ominous
skies began to loom and the rain trickled down, a rush of people filled the
streets and we joined them running for the nearest metro and taking shelter
under the canopies of shops (during which I lost my poster L).
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| Pigeon feeders |
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| The obelisk |
That
evening when the rain subsided and we were dry and comfortable we relaxed with
a glass of red and a bowl of muscles at a ridiculously crowded restaurant… we
figured it had to be good? The waitress came over to our table and took charge
straight away, there’s no messing around with the Parisians. Our dinner was
fairly rushed as we’d planned to meet friends at their apartment afterwards. We
walked into the metro and heard screams, music and shouts. We ran downstairs
and J slipped through the closing doors just in time as I looked in despair at
the crowded, closed train. He opened the doors with force and with the
enthusiasm of the hundreds of Parisians stuffed into the carriage wearing
feather bowers and drinking bottles of alcohol – it was a metro party! I
managed to squeeze in and they cheered us on, engulfing us in the music.
Funnily enough after we’d seen our friends on our way home, we happened to get
onto yet another metro-party, why it was happening was beyond us, but it made a
difference from the usual exhausted and bored faces that usually occupy the
trains.
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| S and J at the top of the big wheel |
The
morning sunshine streamed in through the windows, the grey-scale that the city
had been tainted with hadn’t been a negative, but the sunshine, blue skies and
vibrant colours made such a change. It’s deceiving when the sky outside looks
so grim, convincing you it’s only 7am and you have a few hours left to snooze,
until you look at your phone and it’s 5 past 11..
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| A beautiful greek statue |
I set up
my chair and my laptop in a patch of sun and began to blog, with the excitement
of the morning hitting the highest notes, I hung my head back in ecstasy and
looked over the Parisian Chimneys with a grin.
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All the paintings in this room
were painted by 1 man!
(Napoleons personal painter) |
I was
feeling rebellious that morning so decided to break my diet in the most drastic
way possible, ordering a bowl of fresh bread and condiments while Jack tucked
in to a new French delight scattered with fromage. As my tummy gurgled with joy
and glutenous guilt, we made our way to The Louvre – one of the few places
where any citizen of the EU under 25 years old was admitted free of charge – of
course it was the only day when I’d forgotten my ID, hence we had to pay full
price. But to be honest, 6 hours gazing at ancient Greek sculptures and the
most detailed paintings was worth 12 Euros…
The hours
flew by and we looked at the time to see that only 3 hours remained before we
had to leave. We made a pit-stop at L & N’s place on Rue de la pompe, the
smoke blew softly out of the windows of the small apartment and over the
church’s steeple. It was time to go, we ran to get the Metro, realising we only
had 10 minutes to get to the apartment, clean it, pack our stuff, hand back the
keys and get to the Eurostar. I took off the beautiful Parisian hat that I’d
‘borrowed’ from the apartment and stuffed it under my puffer jacket, just in
time to see the lady who was collecting the keys waiting by the door… We flew
up those stairs, gasping for breath at the top, flinging the hat onto its hook,
brushing stray tobacco off the counter and washing the dishes in fast forward.
Running between the two small rooms we grabbed everything we could see and
stuffed it into our bags, making small talk with the highly unimpressed lady
who continued glancing at her watch, a subtle indication that we needed to hurry the fuck up. We handed back the
keys, got to Gare du Nord and checked in on
time for the first time, ever…
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| Selfie with the Mona Lisa! |
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| :) on our way home |
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| Dusk in Paris |
On the
Eurostar we sat, eating chicken curry and drinking a disappointing glass of
red. 2 hours later, St. Pancreas loomed and we grabbed our bags, running to the
underground to make it in time for the last megabus home. We were really in the
flow of things when we arrived, with 10 minutes to spare! Handing the bus
driver our ticket we grinned, maybe travelling didn’t have to be so stressful?
‘Sorry guys, you’ve booked these tickets for tomorrow’ … Oh my god. With
nowhere to stay, work the next morning and massive bags on our back we looked
in despair at the driver who instructed us to stand with the other nomads who
were in similar situations. We were given the option of buying another 2
tickets, so I looked in my wallet, 1 minute before the bus was supposed to
leave – I only had enough money for one…
I think our helpless faces softened something in the bus driver’s heart
and he let us on for half price, phew, we
made it.
Recipe of the day: cuisses de grenouilles (Frogs legs)
http://www.food.com/recipe/simple-sauteed-frogs-legs-40405
