When I sit at the keyboard and try to think how I will describe Paris I feel like an pygmy treading where giants have gone before. It would be easier to list who hasn't had a crack at describing the place. Anyway I like Hemmingway's description - a movable feast. Of course when he and une génération perdu were knocking around the place it was somewhat different. Shall we say that the tart looks different but the flavour remains the same?
I certainly enjoyed myself. Paris has a certain vulgar charm.
Firstly, let me say that Parisians are very kind and a tolerant lot to tourists. They assume of course that we are English. When we got a chance we explained we were Je sui Australian or New Zealand. Any reputation for surliness is undeserved, although to be fair we didn't stray too much off the tourist areas - the merchants are not stupid.
We arrived and checked into our apartment which was in Montmartre, which is the area where all the "colour" is. Sort of a Surrey Hills, or what Surrey Hills would like to be . The apartment was very modern, large and with four of us a great price.
The next morning we walked up the hill to Sacre-Coeur. An imposing basilica that sits on the hill in Montmartre. I suffered from some de-ja-vu walking up to it, then I realised I had visited it already -in a computer game called The Saboteur. I started babbling this to Helen, who immediately crossed the road and pretended to be interested in the view.
Anyway, we removed our caps and walked through before heading up further up the hill into the clutches of people wanting us to sign papers, have our picture drawn, buy this and that piece of tourist tat. The girls loved it... I mooched back down the hill and sat in a park. Where I watched black au pair's letting their charges dig up the flowers and generally run riot while they talked on their mobiles. It was too cold to stay long otherwise I could have sat reading and watching the locals for longer.
After managing to resist buying anything except a tasty baguette with ham and cheese we headed back home. I was sorely to tempted to buy a Dali T-Shirt saying "I don't do drugs, I am drugs" but the writing on it was too plain..
The next morning was Sunday, so we went off to meet with some of our folk in the suburbs. It was champion meeting them and it was very uplifting to share an hour with them. They went to a great effort to help with translating.
After some lunch we headed into central Paris, only to be greeted by protestors. The gendarmerie had blocked of the Arc de Triomphe. It was a real family event - people rushing up and down with flags, singing songs and chanting. The gendarmerie linked hands and chatted with the protestors. Sirens, flares, chanting, bullhorns, buses - basically a good day out was had by all. Apparently they were protesting about same-sex marriage and adoption. Since they already have civil union in France and same sex couples can adopt children - I doubt anyone was taking much notice.
The girls went shopping. I froze in the cold and took footage hoping for an incident that I could post on YouTube to world wide acclaim. Sadly everyone behaved themselves.
Tomorrow - art and engineering.
I certainly enjoyed myself. Paris has a certain vulgar charm.
Firstly, let me say that Parisians are very kind and a tolerant lot to tourists. They assume of course that we are English. When we got a chance we explained we were Je sui Australian or New Zealand. Any reputation for surliness is undeserved, although to be fair we didn't stray too much off the tourist areas - the merchants are not stupid.
We arrived and checked into our apartment which was in Montmartre, which is the area where all the "colour" is. Sort of a Surrey Hills, or what Surrey Hills would like to be . The apartment was very modern, large and with four of us a great price.
The next morning we walked up the hill to Sacre-Coeur. An imposing basilica that sits on the hill in Montmartre. I suffered from some de-ja-vu walking up to it, then I realised I had visited it already -in a computer game called The Saboteur. I started babbling this to Helen, who immediately crossed the road and pretended to be interested in the view.
Anyway, we removed our caps and walked through before heading up further up the hill into the clutches of people wanting us to sign papers, have our picture drawn, buy this and that piece of tourist tat. The girls loved it... I mooched back down the hill and sat in a park. Where I watched black au pair's letting their charges dig up the flowers and generally run riot while they talked on their mobiles. It was too cold to stay long otherwise I could have sat reading and watching the locals for longer.
After managing to resist buying anything except a tasty baguette with ham and cheese we headed back home. I was sorely to tempted to buy a Dali T-Shirt saying "I don't do drugs, I am drugs" but the writing on it was too plain..
The next morning was Sunday, so we went off to meet with some of our folk in the suburbs. It was champion meeting them and it was very uplifting to share an hour with them. They went to a great effort to help with translating.
After some lunch we headed into central Paris, only to be greeted by protestors. The gendarmerie had blocked of the Arc de Triomphe. It was a real family event - people rushing up and down with flags, singing songs and chanting. The gendarmerie linked hands and chatted with the protestors. Sirens, flares, chanting, bullhorns, buses - basically a good day out was had by all. Apparently they were protesting about same-sex marriage and adoption. Since they already have civil union in France and same sex couples can adopt children - I doubt anyone was taking much notice.
The girls went shopping. I froze in the cold and took footage hoping for an incident that I could post on YouTube to world wide acclaim. Sadly everyone behaved themselves.
Tomorrow - art and engineering.
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