Mum in Paris.

On Saturday I picked Mum up from the airport and we made the hour or so trek back to my house. After a break we got lunch from my local boulanger and then went for a wander through my area and to the Monoprix so I could do some food shopping. Then, on Sunday morning, up at the crack of dawn for me, lol 8.00 in the morning; we headed out into Paris getting off the metro at St Michel and wandering along the Rive Gauche of the Seine, stopping to look at some of the books from the booksellers and to take photos here and there. We then went to a cafe on Rue du Bac for an early lunch, before heading across the river through the Louvre Courtyard stopping to look at the Pyramid which wasn't there the last time Mum was in Paris; before catching the metro to 'Bois de Vincennes' for my Sunday soccer game. Played soccer in the blistering heat and got the red shoulders, back and chest to prove it, before heading back to my place for a shower, a quick rest, an early dinner and then out again to see a friends band "Misleadin" play. When we got to the venue it turned out to be a club on a boat moored to the Rive Gauche of the Seine. It was a very cool venue although the sound technician could have been better. After the band was finished we had a coffee in a cafe and returned home exhausted from a long day of walking. Monday morning began more slowly, with us doing things around the house before heading out to the Marais for lunch. We took the metro to Chatelet where a nice band was busking and there delightful strains were wafting through the metro trying to brighten the lives of the busy Parisians who hurried on by with their usual permanent frowns intact. After pausing for a little to enjoy the music, we headed out in to the awful crush of people on Rue de Rivoli that is the neverending saga of Chatelet. We headed up past the stone tower and past Hotel de Ville and into the Marais, where we stopped at a cafe for lunch. We both had amazing salads and some ok Rose before continuing through the Marais to witness the amazingly historical quartier that it is and walking for kilometers again on already tired feet. After which, exhausted, we headed for home to have a sit down and then some dinner, then more sitting and finally after weeks, some blogging.

Giverny

Wow, it's been nearly two months since I posted. I knew it was a long time, but hadn't realised it was that long. Now I have lots of catching up to do. One of the main things I did in these two months was to go to Giverny with M one Saturday to walk in the Gardens of Inspiration, originally planted by Claude Monet, when he lived there. There are two gardens; a Japanese inspired garden with ponds and bridges and water lillies, which are prolific throughout Monet's works and a more formal neatly laid garden in front of the house (which is now a museum). Monet was very much into the orient and had many Japanese art prints which inspired his Waterlilly Garden. Many of these prints, or similar styled prints, are still in his house today and you can see them when you wander through it. At the time that he built his garden in the 19th Century, the villagers were very wary of all the strange plants he was putting into his garden and the ponds; and they worried that they would infect the town's water supply. After Monet's death, the grounds fell into disrepair, but in the 80's they were resurrected and replanted according to the way he had originally planted the garden and it was turned into the museum that is there today.
Now, finished with the history lesson; so back to the story! M and I set off early in the morning from Gare St Lazare and took a train to Vernon, the closest town to Giverny. From Vernon we then caught a shuttle to Giverny, which stops in a carpark at the side of a grassy wood that has a river running through it. We set off on the trail through the wood and followed a sign to see a bust of Monet. We then meandered back along the river, across the river, under the road, beside the road and left down a laneway and into a gate. We had already bought tickets from FNAC so therefore didn't have to queue. We were straight in the gate and through to the Waterlilly Garden where we wandered along in the morning sunlight, enjoying the flowers of all kinds and the waterlillies which were just beginning to bloom. From the Japanese garden we made our way through to the Formal Garden that is splayed out in front of the house and strolled up and down the lanes before making our way into the house. Afterwards, we had lunch in the garden of a hotel amidst more flowers and green hills and paddocks. We then made our way through the town and came across a field of poppies spread out before us on a slight incline. We walked the paths between the poppies before lying in the shade beside the poppies for an hour or so. Then we went to see Monet's grave before heading back to Paris. It was so nice to be out in the countryside for the day before returning to the pandemonium of the city.

An observation.

One thing that never seems to make it home from the shops intact is baguettes. I often see people walking home from the boulangerie with a baguette and the top is missing. So next time you are in Paris and see someone with a baguette have a look and see if the end is intact.

Football in the park.

Today I played football (soccer) in the park with a bunch of ladies who are trying to bring female sport to Paris. It is funny because girls here don't really play sports and when people find out you are off to play a game they are really surprised. I was looking for a netball team, but they do not exist here; mostly the choice is tennis, tennis or tennis. It was a fun way to spend an afternoon and at least I can kick the ball even if it doesn't always go where I want. I am tired now and I know tomorrow that my legs will kill me.

All the kooks were out and about tonight.

Tonight I met up for a drink and dinner with S and a friend of hers A, who is out from London for the weekend. It was a lovely warm evening and we met at Café Oz for a drink. We were sitting outside enjoying the sunshine and people watching as they passed on by; playing spot the tourist and spot the Parisian. We also saw a far number of hen’s parties or if they weren’t, then a number of questionable wardrobe choices. Following this we meandered along to Saint Michel and the cheap dinner places where we ate a three course meal and drank a bottle of rose. After which we headed to Quigley’s Point in Les Halles to meet up with M. While waiting for M next to St Eustache Church, an older man with a dog approached. First he tried to give us a flower he plucked from the bush. After a shake of my head and a firm non, non, he proceeded to regale us with a rambling litany in French of how the moon is feminine and the sun is masculine and the male sun is reflected in the feminine moon and they meet and mingle, or some such story. This however, was interspersed with his laughter as he clearly thought he was being very funny, which in turn was making the three of us laugh although we were all turning away to try and hide it and also to avoid making eye contact. At this point he clearly realises that we are not French and starts asking if we speak French and not getting the gist of our turned backs he then asks where are we from, to which S replies Antarctica, which makes it all seem funnier. He then informs us again, amidst his own laughter at how funny he is, that he is a doctor, a sex doctor, before turning and moving on. He was a kook indeed, but a harmless one, and a funny story to tell. Then after I got home and had had a shower I was wrapped in my towel wandering round winding down for the night when I kept hearing a knocking sound. Enter second kook of the night, (if you don’t include the girls dressed for hens' nights.) At first I thought someone was knocking on my door and as it was two o’clock in the morning ignored this. The knocking continued and after awhile I realised it was a guy outside knocking on my windows. One of the disadvantages of being on the ground floor; a lot of ground floor apartments in Paris are the building concierge. Anyway I turned all my lights out and hid till he went away even though you can’t see in my windows thanks to the tricky windows where you can see out, but not in from the other side. He went away or so I thought and I got ready for bed, but realising I was no longer able to sleep just yet, I am sitting here writing this and now he is back again at three knocking. There was no way I was going to get up at 2 or 3 in the morning to let some weird stranger into the building. If he had a legitimate reason to be around at time, he wouldn’t need to be knocking on the window. Anyway, that was my night with the kooks of Paris, you certainly meet all kinds.

May Day!

Today is the first of May and one of the charming french customs is the buying of a pot or bouquet of Muguet de Bois ( Lily of the Valley), for yourself, a friend or a partner. Lily of the Valley is referred to as a "porte-bonheur" which means "bringer of happiness" and is considered to be a good luck charm. I love this idea as it seems to me to stem back to the Pagan holiday of Beltaine, the celebration of fertility and the first planting of the season. Everywhere around Paris people set up street stalls selling pots of Muguet de Bois. It is the only day when it is actually legal for random street sellers to sell without a permit and many kids set up stalls for pocket money. I browsed the stalls in my area and settled on a nice purple bucket of lily of the valley and now the fragrance is wafting around in my little apartment as I type this.

Anzac Day!

Last Saturday was the 25th of April; Anzac Day. So, living in France, I decided to go to the Somme, one of the historical sites of many of the battles that we celebrate on Anzac Day. This entailed going to the Australian Embassy to catch the bus at 2 AM, did I mention it was a dawn service. So L and I caught the bus at 2 in the morning and headed for Villers Bretonneux, the site of the official Anzac War Memorial at the Somme. We got there around 4.45 and the service started at 5.30. It was absolutely freezing and because it had been warm in Paris lately, neither L or I had worn warm enough clothes. So there we sat and froze. It made me think of the extreme temperatures the soldiers would have endured as they fought. The Service was good and it was a great experience, but for me the best part was to see the Anzac spirit is still alive. There were around 4000 people there and later in the little town there were more ceremonies. The truly amazing thing is how the town's history has become entwined with Australia. Walking through the town after the service, looking for a place to have coffee, we passed le Kangourou Cafe, a newsagency with Australiana adorning the windows, a charcuterie with a stop for Koalas sign. Outside the Town Hall were wooden kangaroos and koalas. The whole town, for a day at least, embraces the spirit of Australia and the soldiers that fought in the First World War. The Anzac spirit is alive and thriving not only in Australia, but in the places where so many gave their lives.
"LEST WE FORGET"