A few month has no explanation. Potentially a lack of noteworthy happenings may explain my silence but maybe it's just me being lazy. With a few journeys home being made it's re-invigorated my desire to see and experience true Paris and I do definitely feel a lot more settled since I came back from Christmas.
I've been following a few blogs of fellow Parisians and they've led me to some strange things. Most notably was a pop-up weekend "market" in an old car-park a few weeks ago. It was called Brunch Bazaar and if I was asked to define it, I'm not sure I could. It was €5 entry and midday-9pm. Downstairs there was a DJ playing "chill-out" music, a row of pinball machines, a table tennis table and a few vintage/second-hand clothes rails at the far end. Then upstairs was a café serving mulled wine, (in February..criminal) a model apartment kitted out by Diesel, a children's play area and a bunch of board games which people were playing. Maddie and I settled into Cluedo before swiftly realising that we didn't in fact know how to play, or at least we couldn't remember and my vocab wasn't strong enough in board game related phrases to help us much. We exited slightly confused by the whole thing but with a lovely coat picked up for a steal at €40.
Other than that I'm in full concert/exhibition hunting mode and determined to see as much as possible. With tickets booked for a Laura Marling gig, an all-nigh Tim Burton film festival and another huge addition in just the last few minutes things are looking very rosy in Paris at the moment and the France England game on Sunday with Bob and Fred for company should top it all off. Back in the game.
The only minor glitch in my otherwise perfect life right now is the absence of my European friends, most of them having left after just one term. So I said goodbye to the Germans, to the Dutch and to some Poles so now there remains just 2 of my friends. Laurent, a Polish fella, and Alvaro a Real Madrid mad Spaniard. So it remains to be seen if I have it in me to re-make some new friends but for now the 3 euro amigos are staying strong.
Friday, 9 March 2012
Sunday, 4 December 2011
Sans alcool
Lack of posts has been down to the move into the new apartment. It's all sorted now and Oli and I have officially declared our apartment "pimped". Highlights include: Internet, TV, wicker laundry basket, a bed-side table named Aspy (short for Aspelund) and a Christmas Tree decorated to perfection.
We rounded up a few of the English guys we know and headed to the Stade de France yesterday for the derby of the two Parisian rugby teams. Torn on who to support; be it Stade Francais with a couple of Englishmen in their ranks ; or Racing Metro who boast the world's best looking rugby player Juan Martin Hernandez. It was a split decision but our hand was forced as this was deemed the home game for Stade and we were greeted at our seats by free flags, in the Stade Francais' colours of pink, so that was that.
We had intended it to be a real day, having a bit of food before with some beers and then a few more in the stadium. As we approached the stadium and saw the beer tents just outside, after a quick vote we though that it would be best to proceed straight into the ground and get our drinks inside, as they'd no doubt be the same price, €7. We were delighted to find that in fact they were €6 once you'd got through the gates. Not only that but they also had renewable cups which, if you so desired, could be yours for €1. What a great idea we thought. I was first up and with a smile on my face I handed over my money. I was expecting to enjoy crisp taste of 1664 on my first sip but I didn't. I harmlessly inquired to Oli as to ask what beer it was as he was about to be served. By this point, all of us were beer in hand, €6 worse off, so when Oli turned round shaking his head and emitting a nervous laugh there was nothing we could do. He looked up at us and said "it's sans alcool boys".
I don't think I need to say any more about how utterly ridiculous that is. Firstly menu only said "pression 50cl", secondly it's legal to drink on the street (if not slightly frowned upon) over here and thirdly it's a rugby game! The hour long pre-match entertainment was equally as bizarre. Some mountain bikers, cheerleaders who couldn't dance and a Queen tribute band. Maybe with a few beers down we would've got more from it. Turned out to be the most expensive cup I've ever bought!
We rounded up a few of the English guys we know and headed to the Stade de France yesterday for the derby of the two Parisian rugby teams. Torn on who to support; be it Stade Francais with a couple of Englishmen in their ranks ; or Racing Metro who boast the world's best looking rugby player Juan Martin Hernandez. It was a split decision but our hand was forced as this was deemed the home game for Stade and we were greeted at our seats by free flags, in the Stade Francais' colours of pink, so that was that.
We had intended it to be a real day, having a bit of food before with some beers and then a few more in the stadium. As we approached the stadium and saw the beer tents just outside, after a quick vote we though that it would be best to proceed straight into the ground and get our drinks inside, as they'd no doubt be the same price, €7. We were delighted to find that in fact they were €6 once you'd got through the gates. Not only that but they also had renewable cups which, if you so desired, could be yours for €1. What a great idea we thought. I was first up and with a smile on my face I handed over my money. I was expecting to enjoy crisp taste of 1664 on my first sip but I didn't. I harmlessly inquired to Oli as to ask what beer it was as he was about to be served. By this point, all of us were beer in hand, €6 worse off, so when Oli turned round shaking his head and emitting a nervous laugh there was nothing we could do. He looked up at us and said "it's sans alcool boys".
I don't think I need to say any more about how utterly ridiculous that is. Firstly menu only said "pression 50cl", secondly it's legal to drink on the street (if not slightly frowned upon) over here and thirdly it's a rugby game! The hour long pre-match entertainment was equally as bizarre. Some mountain bikers, cheerleaders who couldn't dance and a Queen tribute band. Maybe with a few beers down we would've got more from it. Turned out to be the most expensive cup I've ever bought!
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
The Bachelor Pad
My birthday came and went last weekend and it marked by the dawning of a new era. Not just of being 22, an age which I consider to be "over the hill", but also because Oli and I got the keys to our new apartment. I said a reluctant goodbye to 18 rue Gerando and moved (in several tiresome journeys) my things just 4 stops down line 12 to 110 rue Caulaincourt.
After much fierce negotiation and discussion we settled on our 48msq apartment dubbed by Oli as "a blank canvas". 48msq is massive I hear you cry? Well yes, it is obscenely enormous! Adding this to the fact that the price is no more than you'd be paying for a place half the size in the so-called centre of Paris and we've got ourselves an absolute steal! 1 bedroom and 1 sofa bed will see us adopt a weekly rotation policy which should work out fine as we've ingeniously put a sheet on each side of the mattress (my idea).
Despite the obvious that Oli isn't in fact a Bachelor, I am still declaring it a Bachelor Pad. Simply becuase it has the feel of a young adult's home. We are without internet or TV for the time being (although there is a TV as old as both of us combined which we hope to use) so we have been left with simple conversation and reading to fill the time, a throwback to the "Good Old Days".
All this served to round off a great weekend made all the better with Jack and Rob having come from the UK to stay with us. Next up this weekend is family time and a very nice 2 day holiday. I've just got to figure out what to do with them now....
After much fierce negotiation and discussion we settled on our 48msq apartment dubbed by Oli as "a blank canvas". 48msq is massive I hear you cry? Well yes, it is obscenely enormous! Adding this to the fact that the price is no more than you'd be paying for a place half the size in the so-called centre of Paris and we've got ourselves an absolute steal! 1 bedroom and 1 sofa bed will see us adopt a weekly rotation policy which should work out fine as we've ingeniously put a sheet on each side of the mattress (my idea).
Despite the obvious that Oli isn't in fact a Bachelor, I am still declaring it a Bachelor Pad. Simply becuase it has the feel of a young adult's home. We are without internet or TV for the time being (although there is a TV as old as both of us combined which we hope to use) so we have been left with simple conversation and reading to fill the time, a throwback to the "Good Old Days".
All this served to round off a great weekend made all the better with Jack and Rob having come from the UK to stay with us. Next up this weekend is family time and a very nice 2 day holiday. I've just got to figure out what to do with them now....
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Never Stop Running
As I've mentioned before the busy streets of Paris is not the ideal place for me to run. Having said that on Monday one such run took in the delights of place Republique and l'Arc de Triomphe, not bad. In the interest of keeping things fresh I set off north, just a short time ago, aiming to get to le peripherie (the main road which sounds Paris and keeps all the bad things away), take a left and then come back through the vibrant Place de Clichy.
As I said. That was my aim. My success on Monday was seemingly a one off as I ended up in Saint Ouen, just OUTSIDE le peripherie. Absolutely bricking myself when I realised I turned around immediately and set off at a furious pace until I found the nearest metro stop, assuring me I was back inside where it was safe. I went down a main road for a while playing " Spot the non-dodgy looking man" and then took a left down Avenue St. Ouen and toward civilisation. I had started to slow my pace, perhaps it was the shuffle's fault for putting on Lighthouse Family or perhaps I was simply tired. Anyhow, this lady saw me coming and veered towards me and said something. I took one ear out and lent in for a second attempt to catch what she was saying. Failed. I took both ears out and asked her to repeat, it dawned on me slowly as I took in what she was wearing, or what she wasn't wearing more like, that in fact she was a prostitute. My colloquial French isn't amazing but I'm pretty sure she was offering me some sort of package deal. Do I take that as a compliment??
As I said. That was my aim. My success on Monday was seemingly a one off as I ended up in Saint Ouen, just OUTSIDE le peripherie. Absolutely bricking myself when I realised I turned around immediately and set off at a furious pace until I found the nearest metro stop, assuring me I was back inside where it was safe. I went down a main road for a while playing " Spot the non-dodgy looking man" and then took a left down Avenue St. Ouen and toward civilisation. I had started to slow my pace, perhaps it was the shuffle's fault for putting on Lighthouse Family or perhaps I was simply tired. Anyhow, this lady saw me coming and veered towards me and said something. I took one ear out and lent in for a second attempt to catch what she was saying. Failed. I took both ears out and asked her to repeat, it dawned on me slowly as I took in what she was wearing, or what she wasn't wearing more like, that in fact she was a prostitute. My colloquial French isn't amazing but I'm pretty sure she was offering me some sort of package deal. Do I take that as a compliment??
Bonjour Tristesse
One of the many delights that I've unearthed here so far is a quaint little weekly magazine detailing everything that's going on in Paris (I lie, Oli told me about it but I have poetic license). Whilst casually browsing through I spotted that Bonjour Tristesse was playing, a French film from the 1950s novel of the same name. It had particular nostalgia for us as we studied the book for our A-Level French. It was decided that this would be our Orange Mardis film for this week.
It was in a small, independant theatre in the Quartier Latin and despite the fact that they didn't, in fact, participate in Orange 2-for-1 schemes, we payed the €6 each and entered. Much to our amusement the ticket booth man told us to head to the Salle Rouge, the Red Room, when the only way to go was through this one door which brought you immediately into the cinema covered wall-ceiling in red velvet (or suede, I'm no fabric expert). Evidently there was another "Blue Room", but we couldn't figure out where you'd have to go so his directions seemed pointless.
There was a small speech before the showing by a film critic specialising in 40s and 50s cinema. Having come straight from a 4 hour lecture I paid him little attention so I've no idea what he was saying apart from picking up that he was using a lot of English terms. Oli and I both realised, seemingly at the same time, that we'd forgotten the film was actually in English. Not to worry though, as it started we both concluded that it was still really cool to be where we were...
It was in a small, independant theatre in the Quartier Latin and despite the fact that they didn't, in fact, participate in Orange 2-for-1 schemes, we payed the €6 each and entered. Much to our amusement the ticket booth man told us to head to the Salle Rouge, the Red Room, when the only way to go was through this one door which brought you immediately into the cinema covered wall-ceiling in red velvet (or suede, I'm no fabric expert). Evidently there was another "Blue Room", but we couldn't figure out where you'd have to go so his directions seemed pointless.
There was a small speech before the showing by a film critic specialising in 40s and 50s cinema. Having come straight from a 4 hour lecture I paid him little attention so I've no idea what he was saying apart from picking up that he was using a lot of English terms. Oli and I both realised, seemingly at the same time, that we'd forgotten the film was actually in English. Not to worry though, as it started we both concluded that it was still really cool to be where we were...
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Small Fish, Big Pond
My bid to remain fit whilst in the land of cheese and wine has been a struggle so far. Be it the requirement of a doctor's note to play Rugby or of speedos to go swimming my path seems consistently filled with obstacles. The total chaos and anarchy down at Piscine Georges Drigny (they don't have lanes for differing speeds, it's horrible) as led me to take up running again. I shouldn't complain as I have any number of landmarks to plot my course around, be at down along le Seine or across to le Tour Eiffel, but I don't like running with people around. As with the swimming I need to get a rythmn going and it's not possible along the streets of Paris with the hoards of people. Add this to the fact that on all 6 of my runs thus far I've got totally lost and I'm not a happy bunny.
This wouldn't happen in the leafy suburbs of Cheshire....
This wouldn't happen in the leafy suburbs of Cheshire....
Monday, 31 October 2011
Travel Chaos
After an eventful and very enjoyable venture home, it came to the time for me to come back to Paris. With a slightly heavy heart at again saying farewell to Wilmslow my sadness quickly turned to excitement, tiredness and eventually anger!
An empty flight again gave me the luxury of space on the aeroplane but on my arrival at Charles de Gaulle, and just as the fatigue of a non-stop 4 days hit me, I saw a sign saying the RER back into Paris wasn't running. Great. It transpired that there was a replacement bus I needed to take. I allowed an hour, thinking I'd be in bed by 11.30 but I was confused to see everyone getting off at the first stop, a train station seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I soon realised that it was the only stop and we were going to be getting a different RER line back.
We were ushered through and onto platform 5, I took up a tactical position a bit further down hoping that I may get a seat but before we knew it 4,5 and then 6 buses arrived and the platform was packed. Half an hour went by with nothing and then the announcer said it'd be here in 25-40 minutes. No kidding, what sort of time frame is that for a trains arrival?? Midnight came and went and I was becoming delirious. 15 minutes passed during which an empty train had pulled into a different platform. Sure enough the tanoy sprung into life telling us that we had to get on this train. A stampede ensued and despite being told it wouldn't leave until everyone was on board, after about half the people had got on (including me), it did.
So we left 100 or so very, very angry French people but I was too tired to feel any empathy. We'd initially been told this would be direct to Gare du Nord but 2 minutes in we were told it would be acting as a replacement service and would stop at every station on the way. Brilliant, I thought, bed at 2am. I managed to muster a small chuckle and I kid you not, I didn't see anyone get off at any of the stops between. Nevertheless I was glad to arrive back into the station and when I was asked to show my ticket (which I didn't have) I duly told them to piss off and let me through. Which they did. Some comfort there..
An empty flight again gave me the luxury of space on the aeroplane but on my arrival at Charles de Gaulle, and just as the fatigue of a non-stop 4 days hit me, I saw a sign saying the RER back into Paris wasn't running. Great. It transpired that there was a replacement bus I needed to take. I allowed an hour, thinking I'd be in bed by 11.30 but I was confused to see everyone getting off at the first stop, a train station seemingly in the middle of nowhere. I soon realised that it was the only stop and we were going to be getting a different RER line back.
We were ushered through and onto platform 5, I took up a tactical position a bit further down hoping that I may get a seat but before we knew it 4,5 and then 6 buses arrived and the platform was packed. Half an hour went by with nothing and then the announcer said it'd be here in 25-40 minutes. No kidding, what sort of time frame is that for a trains arrival?? Midnight came and went and I was becoming delirious. 15 minutes passed during which an empty train had pulled into a different platform. Sure enough the tanoy sprung into life telling us that we had to get on this train. A stampede ensued and despite being told it wouldn't leave until everyone was on board, after about half the people had got on (including me), it did.
So we left 100 or so very, very angry French people but I was too tired to feel any empathy. We'd initially been told this would be direct to Gare du Nord but 2 minutes in we were told it would be acting as a replacement service and would stop at every station on the way. Brilliant, I thought, bed at 2am. I managed to muster a small chuckle and I kid you not, I didn't see anyone get off at any of the stops between. Nevertheless I was glad to arrive back into the station and when I was asked to show my ticket (which I didn't have) I duly told them to piss off and let me through. Which they did. Some comfort there..
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