Paris has the reputation of the romatic city. However, Cassy and I did not have much of a chance to experience its romance due to the circumstances of our visit. We met Stef, who had flown in that morning, soon after we arrived. We then walked half way across Paris to find a friendly bike shop that would take our bikes for ten days. That night we found a good bistro nearby and celebrated seeing Stef for the first time in 9 months. The next day the three of us wandered through Paris to the Eiffel Tour, the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs Elysees. Tammy was due to fly into Paris that day to celebrate her birthday along with her friend Ben who was celebrating his birthday the next day. With Stef’s birthday being a few weeks before and mine a few weeks after – there was a lot to celebrate. Well except for Cassy and we certainly let her know about that!
Ben arrived in Paris before Tammy – because Tammy had missed her plane to Paris that morning and had to book a later flight. None of us had met Ben before so we introduced ourselves to each other and cheered each other with a drink. Tammy arrived eventually and before long we had sampled a couple of beers, the bottle of sparkling rose we had brought from the Dali Museum and the bottle of Lillet from Bordeaux. We managed to escape our room eventually and made our way to – the same restaurant we dined at the night before. I took control of the ordering duties and made everyone at the table agree to the massively oversized seafood platter. Cassy was suffering (probably due to her birthday being so far away) so we dropped her back at the hotel and continued the party.
The next day we visited the St Michel and Notre Dame district before dining at Ozu – a Japanese restaurant at the aquarium. Nothing like staring at live fish whilst eating raw fish and clinking glasses of sake wine. The food at the restaurant was solid Japanese fare a little lacking in inspiration. We had ordered the degustation for the table and were left a little disappointed, not with the quality of the cooking but the fact that all the dishes were stock standard Japanese – sashimi, chicken teriyaki for the carnivores, seafood tempura, miso soup etc. Although I guess it is a little rich to be complaining about receiving standard Japanese food at a Japanese restaurant. We followed up dinner with a few drinks at a bar in the Bastille area.
The next day we gorged on a 6 hour picnic at the gardens in front of the Palais Royal and the Louvre. We watched the Parisians snog, kick footballs, smoke, snog, look cool, play loud music, snog, launch toy helicopters, drink wine, expose their underwear and snog. The following day Ben headed off to London and Tammy flew out to Lisbon.
It was Easter in Paris so the large number of tourists shouldn’t come as a surprise. But the tourist numbers are so overwhelming it is surprising to believe that anyone actually lives and works in Paris. Tourists swarm over every monument, queue for hours at every museum and dominate the dining districts. Paris becomes tiring due to the need to change trains constantly to get anywhere and, when you do get where you are going, the need to fight other tourists to do what you want to do. (Yes – I recognise the irony of being a tourist complaining about other tourists) By the time I said goodbye to Cassy for her trip back to Perth for Diedre’s wedding, we were tired of Paris. And we had yet to experience the romance that Paris is renowned for. Time for that when I meet Cassy on her return to Paris.
So it was just Stef and I left in Europe to our own devices. We gorged on museums for a couple of days thanks to my sister Jodi buying us Paris Museum Passes for our birthdays. Nice one sister! We saw the Louvre which was full of so many iconic artworks. We were both impressed by the Napoleonic Apartments and the way that the buildings themselves were as much a part of the experience as the artworks on show. I conquered my fear of heights, for a few moments, when we ascended the Arc de Triomphe. The next day we visited the Air and Space museum where we bagged our first Blanchard of the day as well as the Conciergerie Museum of the Revolution where we bagged two more (presumably less well behaved) Blanchards. (Interestingly, if I say Blanchard to the French people with a French accent (“Blonshard”) I don’t need to spell my name - but if I say it with an Australian accent (“BLANchard”) I do need to spell it.) The Blanchard at the Air and Space museum was famous for hot air ballooning. The Blanchards at the Conciergerie were famous for ... having their heads chopped off. Fearing a similar demise ourselves Stef and I decided it was time to leave Paris. But not before we had joined the throngs drinking beer on the steps of Sacre Coeur at sunset.
Ben arrived in Paris before Tammy – because Tammy had missed her plane to Paris that morning and had to book a later flight. None of us had met Ben before so we introduced ourselves to each other and cheered each other with a drink. Tammy arrived eventually and before long we had sampled a couple of beers, the bottle of sparkling rose we had brought from the Dali Museum and the bottle of Lillet from Bordeaux. We managed to escape our room eventually and made our way to – the same restaurant we dined at the night before. I took control of the ordering duties and made everyone at the table agree to the massively oversized seafood platter. Cassy was suffering (probably due to her birthday being so far away) so we dropped her back at the hotel and continued the party.
The next day we visited the St Michel and Notre Dame district before dining at Ozu – a Japanese restaurant at the aquarium. Nothing like staring at live fish whilst eating raw fish and clinking glasses of sake wine. The food at the restaurant was solid Japanese fare a little lacking in inspiration. We had ordered the degustation for the table and were left a little disappointed, not with the quality of the cooking but the fact that all the dishes were stock standard Japanese – sashimi, chicken teriyaki for the carnivores, seafood tempura, miso soup etc. Although I guess it is a little rich to be complaining about receiving standard Japanese food at a Japanese restaurant. We followed up dinner with a few drinks at a bar in the Bastille area.
The next day we gorged on a 6 hour picnic at the gardens in front of the Palais Royal and the Louvre. We watched the Parisians snog, kick footballs, smoke, snog, look cool, play loud music, snog, launch toy helicopters, drink wine, expose their underwear and snog. The following day Ben headed off to London and Tammy flew out to Lisbon.
It was Easter in Paris so the large number of tourists shouldn’t come as a surprise. But the tourist numbers are so overwhelming it is surprising to believe that anyone actually lives and works in Paris. Tourists swarm over every monument, queue for hours at every museum and dominate the dining districts. Paris becomes tiring due to the need to change trains constantly to get anywhere and, when you do get where you are going, the need to fight other tourists to do what you want to do. (Yes – I recognise the irony of being a tourist complaining about other tourists) By the time I said goodbye to Cassy for her trip back to Perth for Diedre’s wedding, we were tired of Paris. And we had yet to experience the romance that Paris is renowned for. Time for that when I meet Cassy on her return to Paris.
So it was just Stef and I left in Europe to our own devices. We gorged on museums for a couple of days thanks to my sister Jodi buying us Paris Museum Passes for our birthdays. Nice one sister! We saw the Louvre which was full of so many iconic artworks. We were both impressed by the Napoleonic Apartments and the way that the buildings themselves were as much a part of the experience as the artworks on show. I conquered my fear of heights, for a few moments, when we ascended the Arc de Triomphe. The next day we visited the Air and Space museum where we bagged our first Blanchard of the day as well as the Conciergerie Museum of the Revolution where we bagged two more (presumably less well behaved) Blanchards. (Interestingly, if I say Blanchard to the French people with a French accent (“Blonshard”) I don’t need to spell my name - but if I say it with an Australian accent (“BLANchard”) I do need to spell it.) The Blanchard at the Air and Space museum was famous for hot air ballooning. The Blanchards at the Conciergerie were famous for ... having their heads chopped off. Fearing a similar demise ourselves Stef and I decided it was time to leave Paris. But not before we had joined the throngs drinking beer on the steps of Sacre Coeur at sunset.
