Waking up in Paris

Our apartment was just near Les Halles, in the 1st.  About a 15 minute walk to the Louvre, 10 minutes down to the Seine. A proper Paris apartment, with a door code and wooden stairs (fortunately only one flight), with funny windows that the neighbours walked past in the morning.

Where do you start on your first morning in Paris?  First bridge was Pont Neuf.  You could see the Eiffel Tower from there.  It was one of those 'is it me?' moments.  Jumping up and down with excitement saying Paris! Paris! Paris!.

Coffee, a croissant, a walk to Notre Dame.  What an incredibly moving place that is.  I mentioned in an earlier post the impact Notre Dame had on me.  The weight of history that you feel in a place like Notre Dame is incredible.  In 2013, Canberra turns 100.  In 2013, Notre Dame turns 850.  Rose window, vaulted ceiling, gothic archways, gargoyles, ornate doors, flying buttresses.  My year 7 art history text book was coming to life in front of me.

We walked down to the Louvre and the Jardins de Tuileries.  Now that is a place I will love for the rest of my life.  Chestnuts were falling from the trees, the garden beds were full of bright late summer flowers and the great pond was surrounded by deck chairs, perfect for lounging in.

Back to the apartment for our first real French lunch - cheese and pate and baguette - even just from the supermarket, it was wonderful (what does it say about me that when people asked what I was most looking forward to about Paris, I would say 'the cheese').

Time to get to grips with the Metro.  My friend Donna had been in Paris a few weeks, so had found a few hidden secrets.  One of these is the hammam at the back of Paris Mosque.  Steam rooms of varying temperatures, women of all shapes, sizes and nationalities, the chance to relax on the warm marble floors in the steam and just .... think.  It was wonderful.  Followed up with a glass of mint tea under the fig tree in the courtyard (only a little bit like drinking warm toothpaste), it was a great way to spend the afternoon.

Another walk back down to the Louvre, dinner at a cafe, home to the apartment.  My friends, it is love.

There's something about London

I have always loved London.  Can you say that about a place you have only been to twice, 25 years apart? I think a lot of my love for London is about the idea of it, rather than the reality.  Growing up, I read a steady diet of English books - starting from girls boarding school stories to colonial Australian books where England was 'home' to dodgy chick lit about fashion and shopping to the Aga Sagas of the 80s and 90s - thanks Mary Wesley, Joanna Trollope, Libby Purves etc... plus too many more books set in England than I could list here.

So the opportunity to tag two days in London onto the Paris trip was irresistible.  And when we found ourselves out and about in London on a sunny Sunday morning at 7.15am (what was the point in going back to bed after being evacuated from the hotel for an hour at 5am?) I could not keep the grin from my face.

Walking beside the Thames from Tower Bridge up to Westminster, with coffee and a freshly baked croissant was sublime.  There were very few people around, the sun was shining, there was a little breeze blowing... it was right out of one of those books.

We stood on Westminster bridge (completely empty at that hour) and looked up at Big Ben, walked past the Abbey, through St James Park, up to the Palace, through Green Park, Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens and along Oxford St.  There were flowers and squirrels, swans on the Serpentine and dogs of every shape and size.

Ok, so by the time we got to Oxford St, it felt like I was walking on broken glass, but I didn't care.  It was London.

Then back to Tower Bridge to collect our bags, negotiate the tube to St Pancras, a brief stop at M&S for some snacks, and we were headed back to Paris.

But London?  You're on notice.  I'm coming back.

Before Paris, there was London

Paris and I only had time for a brief hello before we hightailed it over to Gare du Nord to get the Eurostar across to London for the weekend.  I had thought that there would be an opportunity for a little bit of a nap, but it turns out that catching up on Donna's adventures and eavesdropping on the conversation of the two men next to us (one of whom works as a camera operator on Merlin and Dr Who) was far more interesting.  In less than two and a half hours, you are in London.  Tower Hill, here we come.  Our hotel was right next to Tower Bridge and with the support of a London bobby (who refused to say 'Right son, you're nicked') we made our way there.

It doesn't scream London much more than the Tower, the Thames and Tower Bridge.  25 years since I had been in London and it felt good to be back.

We managed to be in town for the Thames Festival - street stalls and music and free food.  Fair trade bananas from Columbia anyone? (Actually, it felt odd to eat a non Australian banana.  Tasted much the same though.)

One of the things I love most about London is the old and new piled on top of each other - illustrated by this kind of cool photo of an old building reflected in the windows of a new one.

Anyway, after a bit of strolling, babysitting and hairdressing, we returned to Donna's friend's flat overlooking the Thames and drank a bottle of Bollinger.

Another thing ticked off my list of things I've never done before.  Then we frocked up for a 1930s party on a boat on the Thames. Note that at this point I had slept for something like three hours in the past 30.  Cruising up the Thames watching illuminated London slide by was wonderful - an almost full moon sitting in the middle of the London Eye, lit by lots of colours - but after a while I couldn't tell the difference between when it was the boat swaying and me swaying.  The hotel bed felt very good... until a rude awakening at 5am when the fire alarms went off and we were all evacuated onto a rainy London street.  It's interesting what decisions you make about what is important to take with you at a time like that.  My list, in order of importance was:
1. Underwear
2. Passport
3. Wallet
4. Phone
5. Shoes.

Stay tuned for what happened next...

I don't know where to start

I'm back.

It was amazing and over the next little while I will write and post photos and my various rambling thoughts and stories about Paris.

Needless to say, it was wonderful, and it was as I have always suspected - I am a European girl at heart.  Therefore I feel Europe and I must get better acquainted.

At this point, for your viewing pleasure, two pictures courtesy of my friend Donna, of me standing on two of the world's great bridges:

Westminster (note the shawl)

Pont Neuf (it was my first proper day in Paris - I was laughing)

Just a taste

There will be more to come with pictures, I promise, but here is a taste so far of the overseas travels. (technology is not quite my friend, so there might not be pictures until I get back. Use your imagination.)

London for the first time in twenty five years. There are still squirrels in Hyde Park, Westminster abbey is amazing and i know i need to go back to london soon.

First morning in Paris, i walked into Notre Dame and despite the crowds, was moved to tears. For so long I have thought about visiting Paris and now I am here. My year seven art history text book had a picture of Notre Dame with its flying butresses and the rose window. To have Notre Dame as my first real Paris experience was magical. I stood in front of one of those magnificent windows and gave thanks.

An update on uses for truffles

I would just like to report that risotto made with truffled rice, assorted mushrooms and topped with goats cheese and shaved truffle is AWESOME!

When seasons collide

It's been a great winter for truffles in Canberra.  Not the chocolate variety, but the fungus.  We've been getting to know Keith, who has been selling his truffles at the farmers market on Saturday morning, and my sister has been buying one every few weeks.  But we had a special event at the close of the truffle season - it was like the baton was passed from one luxury to another.  Imagine my delight, when not only was Keith at the markets for one extra week, but the first harbinger of spring was present too.

Yes my friends, there was asparagus.  I love asparagus.

So I had asparagus.  I had a free range chicken.  There seemed to be only one thing left to do.  It was time to buy my own truffle.  Enough sponging from my sister, I was due to hand over my own cold hard cash.  I chose two little truffles - 25 grams, which came in at $60.

Then, weeks of what I call 'supplier relationship management' and my sister calls flirting paid off.  'Thanks for being such a great customer' said Keith and put another truffle in the bag.  (I weighed it when I got home. 28 grams!)

So, we had truffled roast chicken.  It was damned fine.

There is also a jar of arborio rice in the fridge with a truffle in it, waiting to become truffled risotto.

The collision of the seasons was pretty good.

I guess I can go now

There's been excitement brewing in the Irvine household for a few months now.  And as the months have ticked by, the excitement has grown bit by bit and now it's growing in leaps and bounds because on Friday I am going to Paris for two weeks.  I'm having a holiday on my own, meeting a friend who is on sabbatical in Europe and being completely self indulgent for what feels like the first time ever.  I've never been to Paris before and I've always wanted to go there.

Once I decided to do this, I knew there were two things that had to be completed before I went.  One was the national conference I have been working on for the past two years.  As of last Friday, it is done and dusted.  One conference, delivered to great acclaim and apparently enjoyed by the vast majority of delegates.

Tick box one.

The other was a more personal project.  Once I branched out into knitting lacy shawls, there was a pattern I'd had my eye on for a while.  I thought it looked fun and interesting and for a while might be the closest I would get to Paris.  But then I booked the ticket and I knew I had to knit the Eiffel Tower shawl.  So I toiled for three months, looked at the mistakes, decided to ignore them and keep going.

And I have this.

Tick box two.

I guess I can go now.  Stay tuned for posts from abroad!