Paris Fixe

England epilogue

2009-01-09T00:41:00.009+01:00

Well we're back in the land of sun but that's no reason for the posts to end, Paris is still an idee fixe for me. (BTW my French sources tell me that Idee Fixe was the original name for Dogmatix, for those of you who read Asterix comics)

We took the ferry from Calais to Dover, not before having an incredible meal at Le Channel, a brilliant French restaurant in an otherwise unappealing city. This is me with the wine tome (list sounds too cursory).

The ferry crossing took place on the clearest and calmest of days, we could see each country from the other and were only a little taken aback by the prevalence of gambling machines onboard.

England included a visit to Stonehenge, lots of grey but surprisingly mild weather, Burrow Mump (which translates as "hill hill" and rises out of the swampland of Somerset) and Dunster where we saw many black-faced sheep, much to my delight.

Now it's hot, dry and everyone speaks through their noses but this is home again... for now.

End of days

2008-12-15T19:29:00.004+01:00

We are stretching out our last days, saying goodbye to the people and places that have made up our Paris experience. We held our farewell party the other night (sorry, no cameras!) and are doing a lot of walking, eating and box packing.

Today we went for a long walk past the Trocadero, then to spot the mini-lady-liberty and finally, at long last, up the Eiffel Tower.

To warm up went to say goodbye to the chocolate chauds and réligeuses of Ladurée, singing to ourselves the song "do you know the way to Ladurée?"

David hits 30 in Reims

2008-12-07T16:10:00.006+01:00

A town where women's menus don't come with prices, architecture ranges from Roman to art deco and the Christmas street parades feature wizards dancing to the Addams Family theme tune.

Views from the Pompidou

2008-11-16T11:40:00.003+01:00

I would recommend the Futurist exhibition on at the Pompidou centre at the moment to any and all, it ranks as the best exhibition I have visited in my exhibition visiting life. And the side benefit is that in rising to the sixth floor on glass fronted escalators is that one is rewarded with these views.

Caffe Nation

2008-11-16T11:30:00.003+01:00

Deserving a post all of its own, even though I didn't get a picture of it, is Caffe Nation, the best cafe in Antwerp which we smelt out thanks to the exquisite roasts they use. We went each of the four days, had three baristas and each made brilliant coffee. In particular I loved an earthy Ethiopian blend which made a wickedly delicious espresso. They also have a long list of inventive drinks like Dr Pepper (ie coffee with lemon-pepper and honey) or Bouchee Blanc (ie a white chocolate mocha). The mood is chilled, you can sit for hours overhearing lame philosophy conversations and see creative types doing their thing.

Antwerpen

2008-11-16T11:13:00.009+01:00

Highlights included, the Museum of Contemporary Art - not normally a fan but this was, to me, contemporary art at its dicursive best. The national gallery and its collections of Rubens, Van Dyke and Magritte (on different floors). Dinners at Fiskebar where the swordfish was utterly sublime and Yohji Yamamoto's flagship store which reminded me of the extreme beauty of simplicity.

Below are selected snapshots of the fun we had including, but not limited to, the Bed and Breakfast where we stayed whose Dutch name was "Bed, Bad & Brood", an allegedly 400kg chocolate elephant and the famous cathedral.

Autumn in Paris (DMH Guest post)

2008-10-07T21:23:00.001+02:00

Well it has begun. Just as Parisians leave the city in summer, the leaves do the same in winter.

With Alice working long days the adventuring and blogging has fallen to moi, and thus the delays in posting. We are of course on the downhill slide back to Oz, with our final journey all booked and planned to the last detail.

The days are getting cooler and the streets becoming tourist free, perhaps it is now time to visit more museums. Until then, please enjoy the turning leaves, I'll take more snaps as the situation progresses.

Alice goes to work

2008-09-10T23:29:00.006+02:00

This is the walk I take every morning between the metro and my office.

End of the Louvre

Pont des Arts

Institut de France

Ile de la Cite

Musee D'Orsay and Eiffel Tower

Dries Van Noten, aka Alice's favourite shop which she could never afford.

The view from my desk down onto the best patisserie in the world.

L'Orangerie de Sceaux

2008-08-25T21:42:00.006+02:00

I think it was a brochure I picked up in a cafe which pointed me to a concert on at a chateau in the banlieues of Paris which hosts chamber music in it's Orangerie every summer.

Since my parents were coming I thought I'd get some tickets. We saw Schubert's Trio No 2 in mi bemol major, op.100 and Tchaikovsky's Trio in minor, "In the memory of a great artist", op.50 performed by Svetlin Roussev on violin, Francois Salque on cello and Elena Rozanova on piano.

The experience was sublime. Un-amplified the music filled the room, once quite literally used to grow citrus - as well as host parties according to the brochure. Aside from the cellist sweating rivulets, the performance seemed effortless. The concerts run every year and I'd recommend it to anyone in Paris. Not to mention the fact that the chateau and gardens are exquisite also.

I managed to forget my camera so pictures are from Wikipedia and the Orangerie festival website.

The opening photo was the Orangerie itself and this is the unprepossessing house built by one of Louis XIV's ministers.

And here's some of the gardens

Come on Eileen

2008-08-22T10:55:00.006+02:00

We discovered a great new second hand shop yesterday called, incongruously, Come on Eileen. It's not particularly cheap but the quality is good and the space is enormous. There is everything from heavy coats, party shoes and handbags to sun-dresses and hats.

I won't say the staff are particularly friendly and helpful but it's certainly worth a visit. When I get around to it, I'll put up a photo of the Givenchy vest I picked up.

16-18 rue Taillanders Paris 75011

Previously undocumented wardrobe staples

2008-08-11T13:37:00.003+02:00

Jacket from a vintage shop on rue Roi de Sicile. Tried out my French bargaining skills and got 20 euros off. I love the cut.

Belt from Sessun on Rue de Charonne, 11th. This street is great for that affordable, made in France, young designer sort of thing. Pause cafe is a good spot for a drink and people watching. The street also houses Machine a Ecrire, the bar whose window is filled with typewriters and whose decor is decidedly writerly.

Ile des Moustiques

2008-08-03T13:10:00.004+02:00

So here's today's work outfit including Anne Elizabeth skirt. The fabric is cotton, polyester and a little metal thread which means it holds the shape you scrunch it into. Wunderbar. Please excuse the facial expression.

Paris Plage

2008-08-03T00:02:00.003+02:00

So kids, here's what's happening on the banks of the Seine at the moment. If they hadn't called it Paris Beaches I might have been impressed. There's table tennis, fencing, ice cream, playgrounds, a fitness stop and plenty of buskers. The amount of sand is minimal but like most Paris happenings, it's altogether civilized. Many are reading books, there's swing dancing and when it gets too hot, an adult sized sprinkler to wander under. Altogether rather fun.

Alice on sand beach

David on grass beach

Journey to the Centre of the Earth

2008-07-29T10:08:00.005+02:00

Well someone or other convinced me to go into the tunnels under Paris with a friend whose map had been printed from the internet. We were warned that there could knee-deep water and possible forays off the map, not to mention the fact that you're not really supposed to do it and it's possible one may run into freaks down there.

We passed through a building site, a gypsy camp and through a glass strewn hole in a tunnel of disused railway tracks to gain entry.

Yes, it was wet, there were points of squeezing through gaps or finding caved in tunnels but mostly it felt safe. That is until we saw another light in the distance and one in our group picked up a rock, just in case. The light approached, our group silenced. Boys in front, girls behind. But it was another bunch of intrepid explorers so everything was fine.

We saw a rock formation

in a room filled with carvings some recited poetry

And old telephone cables

before coming out the other side.

Exciting as it was, I don't think I'll be doing that again. And the looks on the metro - when people saw sandstone caked in our hair, wet jeans and spattered clothes along with my general preference for being above ground mean I won't be going down again.

SLAM!

2008-07-23T10:32:00.006+02:00

Last night we went to a slam poetry night at a bar in Belleville called Culture Rapide on the corner of rue Belleville and Julien Lacroix. Slam poetry is a competition where poets perform their piece and are given a score by the judges - in this case picked randomly from the audience - then a final follows and a winner is crowned.

My favourite poem of the night, perhaps because I understood it, began with "When I grow up I'll drink whisky, eat peanuts and smoke cigarettes".

Sadly we didn't see the finals due to the impending last Metro but the mojitos were cheap and tasty, the poetry performative and the locale was just what I'd heard about Belleville - cool in the way of an area only just shifting from immigrant to artist, we all know that bobo is not too far behind.

For more details about slam in Paris click here.

Berlin part 2

2008-07-14T12:45:00.007+02:00

These are two images of the same street. If we'd had time I'd have returned to get it from the same angle but that's the reality of traveling. Unter den Linden is one of the main boulevards in Berlin which, like everywhere else, is squirming with growth.

We caught up with Brecht and Hegel and this wonderful artist whose name was Fredrich something or other. I've forgotten already and due to aesthetic reasons, cut his name from my framing of this picture.

On a whim we decided to climb the 300 or so steps of the Victory monument, both forgetting we don't much like heights, so there were some quick snaps from the top and a hurried trip back down the steps. At the bottom you can still see bullet-holes in the mural. (Does one call it a mural is the material in question is bronze?)

Melinda was a little befuddled at my fascination with this vending machine but it sold small plastic rappers, bubblegum and knives. I found the combination interesting. And good value, one could get a knife for 10 centimes with luck, unfortunately I ended up with gum.

My final image of Berlin is from the Altes National Galerie. Aside from my general pleasure at the notion of a museum island (as exists in this fine city) the general care being taken with its reparations is an indication of the value placed on the arts and humanities in Germany. When next we return I have no doubt the whole city will look rather different.

Hallo Aus Berlin!

2008-07-14T12:18:00.007+02:00

There was hyper-daggy educational series which we were shown in German classes with that name. Luckily Berlin was nothing like.

Aside from being astonishingly cheap after Paris, the other facets which took some getting used to included the architecture. Both its scope - wide streets, buildings set back from the road - and its bedazzling diversity. This shot shows the way any two adjacent buildings can be utterly different in character and style. We did spend most of our time in the former East Berlin and while the Soviet architecture fascinated me, it was really the contrast with previous centuries of buildings which intrigued me most.

As everyone knows graffiti is a part of Berlin. This was one of my favourites. I thought the next day when we went past on the tram they were preparing to paint over it but no, just the other side of the wall.

This was a restaurant recommended by all-knowing Melinda. Anna Blume on the corner Kollwitzstrasse in Prenzlauerberg. The food was just about half the cost of a Paris equivalent and the outside tables had blankets on the chairs so we could sit there for hours, watching the locals on their bikes, with their dogs or kiddies, doing local things. Besides which it is half flower shop to add to the romance. This is certainly the area we'd live in if there was a move to Berlin.

And this was the milliner next door, I was tempted until I saw the 500 euro price tag for a headband.

David and I were particularly impressed by the Tiergarten. From inside one can imagine oneself miles from any city. There were literal molehills, sculpture gardens, trees and ponds and bridges. Was lovely.

Finally for part one, this was a memorial sculpture to represent the Bohemian refugees who fled to Berlin due to religious persecution. On the site was a church which was demolished by the Russians but now the space is mostly kept free with a tiled representation of the church and a minor explanation in German, English and Czech.

Find out next time what happened on days 2 and 3 for David and Alice in Berlin-town.

Exciting development

2008-07-13T19:21:00.001+02:00

I am a regular sleep talker. It's true. But last night there was something of a breakthrough. David heard me speak in French! Unfortunately he could not understand what I said.

Hats off to Cultural Diversity - A Guest Post by David Henley

2008-07-05T21:27:00.006+02:00

While ma femme was slaving away at work I thought I'd go out for a coffee and working session at our favourite cafe, when low and behold I ran into another festival of some sort. It seemed the perfect antidote for the mood I was in after finishing The Beautiful and the Damned by Fitzgerald. It was some sort of drum-off between various countries, with marching bands, dancing and fancy dress, one guy gave me two hands of bananas for free and after that it was all a blur.

I followed it to its source on Boulevard Richard Lenoir then followed it all the way to Rue Diderot. I think this may have been the Solidays that I'd seen signage for the last few weeks.

Most impressive, while not as rhythmically endowed, was the parade that followed, a line of green garbage trucks and street-sweepers making it all seem like it never happened.

Essentiel essentials

2008-06-30T20:35:00.006+02:00

So David was walking with his new friend from a french class in St Germain des Pres the other day and saw a shop which he thought I'd like. Incidentally, I did.

It's called Essential Antwerp, is based in Belgium however has some boutiques across Europe. The use of colour and texture is what sets this label apart, as well as the remarkably reasonable price point. As you've heard when I purchased my Dirk Van Saane cape, Antwerp is where it's at, producing designers like Anne Demeulemeester and Dries Van Noten.

So here's some pics of the jacket - which is called summer weight here but will probably only be useful in Sydney winter - courtesy of David, and the shoes courtesy of my new job.

I especially love the lining of the coat, the detailed work such as the internal seams are what make such habillements such a pleasure. Then there was the glorious happenstance that I could buy shoes in Paris, they were made in Italy of course since I cannot fit my fat Australian foot into slender French shoes.

The Louvre (in the art, not slatted window sense)

2008-06-26T09:30:00.008+02:00

Well, it only took four months but we finally went to the Louvre. On a Wednesday evening one can buy a ticket for six euros and I must say that wandering the halls in the glow of extended summer evening was rather lovely.

Here are some pictorial highlights.

Good ceiling work

18th Century meta-painting

Bernie and David resting feet.

The apartments of Napoleon the third (was a little less impressive and didn't rely on a three cornered hat).

But of course, one of the main reasons for visiting the Louvre is to see Mona Lisa or La Joconde. The painting, which is housed in a different room than when I was last here, is more a cultural object than anything to do with art. I find Da Vinci's other paintings just as interesting but one needs to visit this part of the gallery if only to watch the effect of the painting on fellow patrons. Mostly disappointment, I have to say, some excitement, and much taking of pictures.

The sun was setting as we left at 10pm and I think it will not be long before I return.

Hot and sweaty

2008-06-24T22:26:00.001+02:00

Did anyone know that Paris is hot and humid in summer? And unlike Sydney a storm can build all day, the sky can grey and then... nothing.

Fete de la Musique

2008-06-23T21:04:00.008+02:00

Especially for French Wench, whoever you are...

Here's the pics from my first fete de la musique. It's the night when the whole of France takes to the streets for music and fun, Paris is the pinnacle of course.

Our street early in the evening.

Hermes at the Bastille

Some Salsa music on Saint Antoine

Outside the Scottish pub in the Marais, this tiny woman was making some impressive noises.

The sky, did I mention the sun didn't set until 10pm?

Some preppy teenagers, dancing to drumming by the Seine

Bastille, or in other words, just at the end of our street

Our street

Incidentally I had to work a full day at the cafe the following morning. I was not particularly well rested but after having heard it normally rains for fete de la musique I was rather pleased at the previous evening's treat.

What I did last night...

2008-06-19T08:32:00.001+02:00

Just for those of you playing along vicariously at home...
Last night I went to my writer's class at Shakespeare and Co before heading down to Ile St Louis where a group of artists (only one of whom I knew) were having a picnic. The lights didn't come on until 10.30 because the sunset was so lasting. We ate cheese, drank wine and talked art.

Best tea in Paris (or aix)

2008-06-06T18:47:00.007+02:00

So The des Ecrivains is my favourite place for tea in Paris, though the real connoisseurs would recommend Mariage Freres or some other rubbish. The shop sells stationery and teas named after respective literary traditions. There's German romance or Chinese (since they're all the same) or French (same too).

(Photo includes tea, notebook and complimentary postcards which came enclosed in a purple organza pouch)

The "English writers" blend is China tea with hints of vanilla and caramel which I drank at an English language bookshop/cafe in Aix recently - thereby prompting my return The des Ecrivains. I visited the shop last time I was in Paris (i.e. four years ago). The web address lists the shop as being at 38 Rue Turenne in the 3ieme. This is a lie since the entrance is actually on rue des Minimes.

Anyways, the tea is delicious, the stationery exquisite and if you're lucky you'll get a free tasting.

New digs

2008-05-27T18:10:00.004+02:00

Here's our new spot. One metro station away, whole new Paris. The flat is double the size but the price is the same because our front door is in-between a tattoo parlour and a kebab shop.

The area is like Newtown, compared with the Marais' eastern suburbs feel. There are cafes aplenty, including one which offers a five percent discount upon presentation of the docket at its lingerie shop over the road. Click here for a Frommer's review of Cafe de L'Industrie. We're just two blocks from our favourite fresh food markets and slightly removed from all those high fashion shops which so tormented me.

Aix-press

2008-05-23T18:18:00.006+02:00

So this might be primarily a Paris blog but here's some photos from a recent jaunt in the south of France, more specifically, Aix-en-Provence where the air is scented with lavender, albeit the dried variety sold at markets, and the Italian influence is tangible.

Le Carillion was our favourite restaurant. For 11 euros you received four dishes, each simple but delicious, served by waiters who had operated the cafe since 1956. A lovely spot where we wasted four hours on the first day, hiding from a gigantic storm which passed through the region. Despite our efforts, we still got soaked.

Jesus, holding a towel

David scribbling at a Pizza cafe. The Italian presence is obvious in the food, and the cars pumping bad music (oops, did Alice just make a cultural slur?)

The view from Plateau Bibemus. Alice saw a hill from the town and suggested we walk up it. The walk was over 10ks, much of it up hill, but we did see poppies along the way. And this view from the top was rather spectacular.

Bad Alice

2008-05-06T19:30:00.005+02:00

Bad Alice bought a new dress yesterday (second hand) and some shoes today. (Both pictured)

The weather here is utterly exquisite at the moment. And I think it would be reasonable to describe this life as eudaemonic. Look it up.

Accidentally Invalides

2008-05-05T21:55:00.003+02:00

So here was a jaunt Davido and I went on. We were intending to go to the Luxembourg gardens with our picnic lunch but Vid misread the map and we ended up at the Jardin des Invalides. Not too bad though, in the end.

Mmm, Gelato

2008-04-23T13:39:00.004+02:00

I generally planned to avoid chains on coming to Paris but the Amorino gelato chain is one exception. In my vicinity they have shops on rue Vielle du Temple, Ile St Louis and rue de la Huchette.

This was Biscotto and Creme Caramel and it is heaven, especially with fresh raspberries which are so ridiculously cheap here.

London Part II

2008-04-18T19:00:00.004+02:00

Other photos include: Inventive wall decoration in Notting Hill.

Victoria's idolatrous monument to Albert.

Alice in Bloomsbury.

David in the British Museum

Alice does London

2008-04-17T09:06:00.006+02:00

Yes, this is a Paris blog but I figure it's ok to do one post on London since my conclusion is, Paris is way better. Alice's magical mystery tour of London including accidentally seeing many of the sites, enjoying the free museums and determining that I understand only a limited range of the English vernacular.

British Museum

Buckingham Palace which Alice could not be bothered to cross the road to see. A soldier's life is terribly hard, said Alice - but my life is rather leisurely.

Something big.

A real and truly coffee shop where I enjoyed a five bean ristretto.

Bus shelter advertising on how to behave.

Perhaps there will have to be a second London post, I think that's enough for now.

Springtime wandering

2008-04-08T23:27:00.004+02:00

So just as some evidence that Spring is here, despite some rather cold days, here are some photos from wanderings around Le Jardin du Luxembourg, which still make me think of Sartre's La Nausee and the protagonists own wanderings where all the trees reminded him of phalluses. Make up your own minds.

Here's a requisite Alice posing photo.

And here's a strange little shop besmirching the elegance of the gardens.

Aini - meeny - miney - mo

2008-04-01T22:40:00.004+02:00

Well campers, Alice has bought a new skirt and it's more than a little pretty. The shop is Aini, a little spot, tucked between Place Des Vosges and rue Saint Antoine in the 4e.

It has no zip or buttons but relies on a fold and the tie. The designer was in the shop at the time of purchase and while she spoke to me in very speedy French I think I understood most of it. The inspiration is in part from kimonos, she is one of a team of three who design the clothes and they've had their shop for five years. The website (link above) is mostly under construction but I think I could well be going back, so this blog could become something of a Aini catalogue. In my opinion, it's just wonderful and so I wanted to share.

Gardens, pah!

2008-03-31T17:52:00.003+02:00

So the Jardin des Plantes might sound wonderful. Its trees are more manicured than a Parisienne's fingernails, garden beds budding with flowers and trees with blossoms but in the case of rain, or in the case of sun, you will leave with dirty, dirty shoes.

When it's wet the gravel kicks up onto your shoes and dries in spots. When it's dry shoes are simply coated overall in dust. Yes, there is something romantic about promenading around this Jardin, or any of the others for that matter. Just don't wear your best shoes while so doing.

The eating room

2008-03-31T16:46:00.004+02:00

Today we stumbled upon a lovely little cafe in the 5e open every day of the week (something of a rarity round here). It's called La Salle A Manger at 138 rue Mouffetard (M Censier Dauberton). Here's a picture of the little square it faces.

And today was warm enough to sit outside. The coffee was your typical Parisian coffee, long but not bitter and served in a mini bowl. The special cake of the day was cheesecake, which the French call "cheesecake", it's so cute. And indeed it was special, deliciously smooth with a rich mouthfeel, I regretted finishing it. In fact everything was lovely. The passers-by, the cool teenagers, older men in trenchcoats and even our waiter in a paisley shirt. The blossoms on the trees are coming out, the weather is turning and the cafe was reasonably priced. David and I sat scribbling in our notebooks. What more does one need?

Merci-er

2008-03-27T18:58:00.002+01:00

Parisians can't just say a phrase. They put an "er" on the end of everything which initially makes it sound as if they're starting on a new sentence when they're in fact just finishing the old one. Everything is transformed, "bonjour" becomes "bonjour-er", "comment t'allez vous-er" and so on ad infinitum. In part I think it comes from the way in which Parisians speak. The accent and banter is so fluid and flowing that one cannot finish so simply at the end of a word or phrase.

But it is the quickest way to tell Parisians from other French people, and it's my way of trying to sound more local-er.

Those shoes

2008-03-23T19:44:00.004+01:00

Two items define the fashion of Parisian women more than anything else. Longchamp nylon bags and, as aforementioned, converse. I have caved to peer pressure, and the demands of being a waitress, for the latter.

In my defence these were on sale in a shop on my street.

There is no defence for this photo, however, other than David's suggestion that I strike a pose and since the purchase of my cape, I've been hanging out with superheros for whom it is normal to look like this.

Manifestations

2008-03-23T15:28:00.006+01:00

The word for protest in French is "manifestation" which, it seems to me, is interesting in itself. The other day we ran into this manifestation by the Petit Palais.

Generally the gist was they were annoyed at Sarkozy. On the whole (watch out, here comes a generalisation) French seem more politicised than Australians who are generally an apathetic bunch. I met someone at a party who admitted to voting for Sarkozy because she genuinely hoped he would try to reform the country and be more open and disciplined as he promised. Sadly that did not happen.

Nearby our house was this graffiti. It's pretty rude in French meaning something like piss off bastard, or worse. This is something Sarkozy said to a farmer he met who refused to shake his hand. Sarkozy did not think anyone was listening but of course the video ended up on youtube.

Even the law about not smoking cigarettes inside is taken not just as a law against an action but concerning a national character. An American I met recently said the French will talk about sex all day long but don't bring up religion or politics. In fact I've found the French forthcoming on both topics. And it's an interesting dialogue indeed.

Alice turns 23

2008-03-22T09:00:00.005+01:00

Here is a sampling of the sweet things which filled my birthday which included a visit to Laduree and a chocolate mousse, custard, brownie raspberry cake-crum cake.

And here are some photos of Alice's new handbag from a small shop in the Marais (but in the 3rd), the designer is Blush-b-lush. Thanks Mum and Dad - although I know Dad will hate it.

In the background of the last one you can see the breakfast dishes which David hasn't done yet! Tut, tut. Oh well, off to work.

Guimauve

2008-03-19T14:36:00.007+01:00

BOULANGERIE BASICS Episode 1.

Fascinated by this impressive display in a Marais bakery,

we decided to give mint a try. Thanks to the French writing, which I still find indecipherable, I asked for "gee-moo-ve" instead of "gui-moo-ve" but the shop assistant kindly corrected me and fetched the requested article.

When we took it home and cut it up, it looked like this.

We guessed that it had something in common with marshmallows and were right. This is the French version. The texture is utterly strange, evaporates in your mouth, or between your fingers if you squish it. On the tongue it is airy and sugary with a hint of slime but is overall quite pleasant. The exterior has a fine coating of sugar which provides something of a texture contrast. I think I would but it again, in part for the curiosity of how mandarin is transliterated into marshmallow, and to have the pleasure of saying its name... guimauve.

Here's where you'll find the bakery:

View Larger Map">Boulangerie Malineau,

Oh la la

2008-03-18T18:54:00.002+01:00

Yes, the French really do use this phrase and across an impressive array of situations.

There is the "oh laaa laaa" said with a knowing tone which indicates drama, disapproval or annoyance.

"Oh-la-la" said quickly on the exhale can be the conclusion to a dwindling sentence, indicating perhaps resignation, acceptance or simply rounding out a point.

There can be the "ooh la la" of pleasure at something unexpected and enjoyable, perhaps to a particularly appetising meal or maybe even a work of art.

And these are just the beginning. It seems Parisians enjoy using sounds instead of words in many instances to communicate anything from length to quality to judgements on an important issue. It's beyond verlan, or slang but counts for meaningful articles of conversation in and of itself. Once recognised, it's much easier to understand the locals, that really it's gibberish and one shouldn't worry so much about words, gestures and sounds are just as effective.

Hella

2008-03-17T18:19:00.002+01:00

We found, in a respectable right bank bookshop, this one of Joseph Heller's lesser known works, Catch 23.

Soiree

2008-03-15T16:30:00.004+01:00

Lesson one from the first party I went to in Paris. Despite what my high school French teacher said, it is not called a "boum". It is a "soiree". This little faux pas garnered some roaring laughter from my interlocutor.

Lesson two is that parties everywhere are the same, everyone gets on a lot better after a few drinks.

Lesson three is educated Parisiens speak much better English than I can speak French and will only tolerate my French to tell me "it's cute".

Lesson four is that raw cauliflower counts as a reasonable party nibble.

Lesson five is that the last metro is at 2am so either get ready to leave at 1.30 or be ready to hang out till 5.

The other Paris

2008-03-15T15:49:00.007+01:00

It is one month to the day since we arrived, it feels like six. We went to Chinatown to stock up on those ingredients so readily available in Australia like curry paste and coconut milk. On the metro, line 7 gets you there, the caucasians are in the minority and the languages spoken range from Arabic to Mandarin to Spanish.

In Chinatown itself, women speaking Mandarin greet each other in the French way. McDonalds is next to Asian groceries and the streets look like this.

The architecture is different since Chinatown is on the border of the suburbs so permission can be granted for taller, and in many cases more ugly, buildings. The area houses a lot of poorer migrants, we saw some people stealing from a charity bin. Although maybe it's not stealing if they need it.

The cherry blossoms are coming out and at 18c today it felt rather spring-y.

I like this part of the city where the shop assistants speak to one another in one language and the white customers like me in another. The immersion in the culture of another part of the world while still definitely in Paris is refreshing. And the food is so cheap. Here's a sample of some of the things we purchased including Ginger lollies from Indonesia, "Italian" Tomato paste and curry paste from Thailand.

Just finally, we saw this sign outside a pharmacy. It looked to me a lot like a snake in a martini glass, or is that just my vivid imagination?

The bank

2008-03-14T17:36:00.003+01:00

People had warned me that banking in France is difficult but I was determined to disprove them. So I looked on the web, saw a page on the HSBC website suggesting they were keen to set up accounts, even short term ones, for travellers. So I phoned the enquiry line, answered some questions and arranged an interview. Despite the questions on the phone and taking along the required documents, the consultant told me there was no chance of my opening an account with them. At minimum I would need a letter of recommendation from one of their current clients as well as a contract of employment stating that I would be employed "indefinitely". All this in French because, despite the assurances of the woman on the phone, the consultant did not speak English.

I will keep you updated on my further attempts.

Live music scene

2008-03-13T22:57:00.005+01:00

Tonight, after dinner we went for a little walk across Ile de la Cite. Took some photos of Notre Dame at night. It's far more pleasant than in the day time and in the photos I like the way the sky looks somewhat apocalyptic.

Earlier in the evening there had been some horns playing on our street, although we couldn't see them out the window, and we had made various guesses as to their purpose, We ran into the troupe on Pont St Louis. Their group included woodwind and brass sections as well as percussion and some dancers. As they played, they hopped about, passers by stopped to listen and cheer, but they seemed to have their own entourage as well.

Later on we saw them progressing west along the river. It was a pleasure.

FOUND

2008-03-11T15:19:00.005+01:00

They said it couldn't be but we found it! Genuine coffee in Paris. Fresh roasted, toffee-like-crema and properly frothed milk. I present, La Cafeotheque.

The storefront sells freshly roasted beans from around the world and the petit salon out the back converts them into liquid pleasure. An amiable Chilean barista used the 'cafe du jour' - which today was Peruvian - to make my ristretto, yes he had heard the word before. He described it as a "refreshing" grind, a thinner pour with delicate aroma and wonderfully smooth mouth-feel. Indeed it was a highly pleasurable experience. We also tried the Colombian which was more conventional, dark but still flavoursome and dynamic as only freshly roasted coffee can be.

The prices depend on whether you drink at the bar or in an arm chair but the coffees all come with caramelised biscuits, it was certainly not one of the more expensive establishments which we have visited and we will no doubt return shortly. Despite being opposite Ile St Louis (just by Pont Marie on the right bank) it was not over-run with tourists and apparently hosts sporadic live music nights in the back.

We found it in the first instance by smelling the roasting coffee as we walked past. The moral being, follow your nose.

The great Laduree debate

2008-03-09T14:33:00.004+01:00

What is a Paris blog without a post on Laduree? The answer is a disdainful Parisian rien.

From their website comes this image of their delightful delicacies.

I admit that I have not tried all of the Paris macaroon makers but I can profess that Laduree's macaroons are sublime. The Diva is a small, vibrantly magenta explosion of flavour and an absolute sensation. The orange flower water is dainty and delectable (describing food makes me slip into alliteration, apologies).

While the storefront in the second is indeed grand it is terribly busy. Try the slightly more tucked away shop on rue Bonaparte in the sixth, here's a shot of their tea room.

Admittedly it's expensive, coffee is cheaper than tea and I probably wouldn't choose this venue for a meal but for an afternoon nibble it is sublime. And to me, the macaroons are worth every centime.

The Refectory

2008-03-09T13:59:00.007+01:00

So I have posted previously about a little cafe in the 10e (near Oberkampf, M Richard Lenoir) called Refectoire but was previously too abashed to take out my camera. Here's some shots from our little brunch this morning.

This can be roughly translated as
"Conversation Topics
Do you like the ocean?
Do you like your mother?
Do you love?
Do you like the table?
Do you like the wine?
Do you want to make love in five minutes?"

You can only read this from one seat in the restaurant as it's written on the back of a pillar.

The table setting is very cute. On Sundays you can order a brunch from 20euros which is enough to fill the stomach for a whole day and it is served in little bowls on a tray like in a school canteen, except the quality is great.

And here's David... writing. Note the gigantic light bulb going off just to the right of his head! They allow us to write for hours without complaint. Not to mention the free Wifi access.

Favourite bookshops

2008-03-08T11:23:00.006+01:00

It took me three weeks or so but I have determined which are my favourite bookshops in Paris now. Conveniently they are around the corner from one another. (M Odeon)
View Larger Map and both are second hand which is useful considering budgetary constraints.

In no particular order:

Berkeley Books

This seemingly small shop has a wonderful selection, fiction sections for hardcover/trade paperbacks and A format with first editions and all the important authors scattered throughout. The order of the books is refreshing considering some other second hand bookshops visited and the quality is high. The prices are perhaps more expensive that in Sydney, for instance, with a small format paperback costing around 6euros but books generally are expensive here so the price does not seem unreasonable.

And they swap or buy your old books, in case it comes to that. The owner/operator is a grizzled American man with a fittingly white beard. My biggest concern was leaving with less than five books.

The San Francisco Book Company

A fellow customer's question revealed that the owner of Berkeley Books was a former partner in the San Francisco Book company - the storefront of Abe books in Paris. I would like to know that story.

This shop is slightly smaller but has similar quality and you can easily find classics, contemporary favourites, poetry and criticism as well as sci-fi, if you're into that sort of thing. Again, this shop does trades or buys books and a paperback is roughly 6euros.

While Villiage Voice is a pleasure and your Shakespeare and Co sells some second hand books, the traveller mostly can't afford the indulgence of uncut pages, metaphorically speaking, so these are a delightful option.

Conversely

2008-02-29T10:00:00.003+01:00

The Sartorialist (aka Scott Schuman) has been in Paris for RTW Fashion Week, documenting the styles of attendees and others for Style.com as usual. He captured this image, posted on Style.com of a guest at Dries Van Noten.

It saves me from photographing strangers as had been my fear. French women, of varying ages love converse. They will be wearing boots, ballet flats or converse it seems - the latter worn in a rainbow of colours, at varying heights but this is simply unexpected for me. Parisian women favouring American sneakers.

A truly wonderful find

2008-02-28T18:21:00.010+01:00

Parc du Buttes Chaumont

Today during our perambulations through Belleville I remembered someone mentioning a great park there, was it you Tanya? We were operating off the edge of the Paris Moleskine map but found our way to this treasure.

I am so glad to have first visited in winter, turning corners into misty grottos, seeing the fragile furtive cherry blossoms just coming out. Breathing smoke by the waterfall and being able to look out from the rotunda undisturbed, other than by the sounds made by some men practiscing kick-boxing just below us.

According to a sign we saw, Belleville was not included in Paris until the 19th century which explains how such a monumental park remained in the otherwise built-up city. If you are ever in Paris I recommend it as having a far better view than that from the top of Montmartre - not to mention fresher air and rolling hills. Incidentally, as the second highest point of Paris, you can of course, see Sacre Coeur in the distance.

To conclude, just a little history from a government website:

In 885, the Count Eudes de Paris et de Troyes drove back the Normans at the battle of
Montfaucon on the hillside

In 1814, at the end of the French campaign, the national guard and the marine artillery fought
a desperate battle against the assaults of the Prussians before surrendering.

It has also witnessed some macabre scenes.

At the end of the Middle Ages, the infamous Montfaucon gallows, immortalised by the poet
François Villon in his famous Ballade des pendus, were still to be seen on its western side.
During the Restoration, the hill, which had been occupied by lime quarries since time
immemorial, was turned into a vast public wasteground.

When the communes of Belleville and La Villette were absorbed into the capital and the
quarries were bought in 1862 by the City of Paris, Napoléon III had the idea of creating the
Butte-Chaumont park which was to become a monument to plants.

Oh, and here's David in his new Austrian jacket.

Les chats du Cimetiere Montmartre

2008-02-28T18:04:00.006+01:00

For some reason, please enlighten me if you know which, the cemetery at Montmartre is filled with cats. Here is my photographic evidence.

You can see they are pure-bred and tabby, skinny and well-fed and seem to have no common factor. I wonder whether there is a preponderance of rats, whether they were attracted to the songs of birds, one of the few places in Paris where birds other than pigeons reside or something more mysterious.

On our way out we saw a woman come through the gates with a cat in a basket which raised all new questions. Was this some kind of unwanted cat repository? I would love to hear any suggestions.

Spotted

2008-02-24T12:25:00.004+01:00

This model, who graces the March cover of French Vogue was tottering down our street yesterday. In fact there were quite a few models since there was a casting, all of whom looked like visitors from some far of galaxy. A special race indeed. But it does mean we don't miss Lisa Ho too much.

More excursions...

2008-02-22T17:01:00.007+01:00

Our courtyard

Entryway

Inventive window display

Adventures from the rest of the week include:

A trip to Chinatown in the lover 13e, just about at the end of the metro line. Here the buildings are tall and ugly, the people rarely converse in French and just now the cherry blossoms are coming out. Sadly I forgot to take my camera but when next we venture so far south, rest assured the mistake will not recur. We visited the Tang Brothers store, one of the largest Asian grocers in Europe - with one of the largest checkout queues. But it was cheap and certainly fascinating to see this other Paris where the only common factor with the centre of the city was the dismally coloured sky.

Today featured a walk down the Canal St Martin through Oberkampf in the 10e, an area in which I would happily live. We just missed the open air markets selling fish and flowers, possibly other things also. And sat writing at a lovely little cafe called Le Refectoire at 80 rue Richard Lenoir. The waitress was the cute kind you find in Newtown and was patient with my insufficient French.

The thought of the day is that you can tell in what kind of arrodissment you find yourself by looking at the trees. Some areas the trees have received most careful haircuts (anywhere near the Louvre, Champs Elysees etc) but in Chinatown or along the Canal St Martin the trees are left shaggy. Some comment on presence of an immigrant population perhaps? Regardless, my fascination with carefully trimmed trees continues.

Oh, and really the absolutely last thing I can buy before getting a job. This was a super on sale cashmere cardigan which feels like an embrace from the cloud-cotton-wool-fairy-floss fairy. Believe it.

Paris - days 1-3

2008-02-19T09:55:00.019+01:00

Architecture

Yes. It is beautiful. In a ridiculously ordered way. Take for example the trees. I can only imagine the expense of maintaining such straight lines, trees trimmed on all four sides - giving them four sides to start with is surely a challenge - and along the top. But it seems to work, this ordered space with a national character of rebellion, or so they like to think. The proprietor of a cafe complained to us about the new smoking laws and explained that the French aren't law abiding but he still took his cigarette outside.

People

Just about everyone speaks to us in English, from the corner supermarket checkout chick to waiters in cafes and shop assistants. I still persevere with my poor French and have been complimented once, which was really just because he was amazed someone from Australia had any French.

There are far more non-caucasians than when I was here four years ago. The metro, the streets, in rich areas and poorer ones exhibit a near Australian level of multiculturalism. There are sushi places EVERYWHERE and Thai places, although they're expensive.

The French women so far are failing expectations. There have been some perfect examples but on the whole they just look like they're trying to keep warm. The men, on the other hand, seem more frequently to dress exquisitely.

And on some streets it is 95% tourists. In the low season. Come summer I think we'll be hiding out in backstreets, if not before.

Shopping

Until I have a job I planned to get boots and a coat. This has been achieved, under budget no less.

The cape is from an outlet store in the Marais, from Belgium designer Dirk Van Saene. I am now equipped to fight crime.

Boots from upper 2e, just Italian ones, super comfortable.

Weather

It's a bit ridiculous. We're on to our forth day in a row of pure sunshine. It's "frais" indeed but yesterday, as we walked up the Champs Elysees, I went so far as to remove my jacket. This run of sunshine must end shortly. Perhaps it in part explains the the parks full - every seat taken. Just on the seats. It is difficult to imagine a park with loose chairs in Australia. Sure they are not of much value but anything not pinned down in Sydney for instance is stolen quick smart - regardless of value.

Signing off from days one to three. About to embark on day four.

T minus 13...

2008-02-02T01:19:00.000+01:00

Well with thirteen days to go and innumerable instances of being asked "how are the plans coming" Alice has little to do but play with her new camera. It's the perfect balance between point and shoot and SLR, according to The Photography Blog and while I may not be quite as committed to the photographic arts as their distinguished contributors, I must confess it's a lovely little machine. No doubt it will be capturing some rather fantastic images... shortly.

Are we there yet?

2008-01-09T06:30:00.000+01:00

No, we are not there yet. So what better way to pass the time than to create the blog which will document the being there!
By my count there are 36 days till departure.
As a small indication of the reason for the excitement, here's the area in which we will live to live.
View Larger Map