Day 1
OK then. Welcome to my 30 consecutive days of posting!
(Let's see how long until Murphy's strikes?)
I'm endlessly dithering because I alternately feel like I have so many things I could write about, and like I have nothing to say. When I have too many things, I don't know which one to start with, so I eventually give up on it entirely. When I have nothing to say, well. I say nothing. *g*
Let's start with Paris!
Paris is lovely. Even with the identity crisis it had this Saturday, when it thought it was London and thus rained endlessly, miserably, coldly, it's still Paris.
I finally made it to Buttes Chaumont again (a park somewhat off the beaten path, shown to us by our "guide" in my first Paris visit, in 2003). It's funny how things change: the first time I saw it it was full of people having picnics in the grass, as one does. Last Sunday it was full of people running, doing aerobics, tai chi, and a number of other sports. The health craze that I noticed in London must be Europe-wide, and it looks like it hasn't missed Paris!
Thanks to
castalie's recs, we successfully achieved cupcakes at Berko and éclairs at L'Éclair de Génie. (Hah, I didn't realise the latter name was a pun until I was writing to Mouse about it, and so I couldn't tell M, who has an irrational contempt for puns.) (So, naturally, I have to make as many puns as I can think of, and point out any puns that he might have missed.)
We were both knackered though, M and I, so we couldn't manage as many things as I'd have liked to do / see in Paris. That, and the soaking Saturday, prevented this from being a magnificent weekend, so it was just good instead. ;)
I was not very impressed by my very first Eurostar trip. I suppose I was expecting an ~experience, and all I got was a train ride. I am very, very unimpressed by their "check in closes 30 minutes before departure, no exceptions" rule. I think it's just so travellers end up spending a lot of time - and money - in the post-check-in shops. Boo.
I love the streets, the houses, the flat iron buildings, the Seine, the cafes and bistros. I love how it's standard to sit around a table and enjoy food and conversation, and occasional people watching.
I like that one can find crepes at every corner, and boulangeries and patisseries. I like that people speak French.
I liked dragging up my rusty French to the surface and feeling like something was slowly thawing in the back of my mind.
I can't stop thinking what it would be like to live in Paris. I know very well, on my own skin as we say, that the immigrant experience is always ~different (read: worse) than the tourist experience, but even as a tourist, I didn't fall in love with London, the way I did with Paris, so maybe the same ratio would apply as an immigrant. Or course, with the added difficulty of age and exhaustion. (But also the advantage of wisdom gained, right? Right? >.>)
If you prefer Dreamwidth, you can reply or read the
comment(s) there.
(Let's see how long until Murphy's strikes?)
I'm endlessly dithering because I alternately feel like I have so many things I could write about, and like I have nothing to say. When I have too many things, I don't know which one to start with, so I eventually give up on it entirely. When I have nothing to say, well. I say nothing. *g*
Let's start with Paris!
Paris is lovely. Even with the identity crisis it had this Saturday, when it thought it was London and thus rained endlessly, miserably, coldly, it's still Paris.
I finally made it to Buttes Chaumont again (a park somewhat off the beaten path, shown to us by our "guide" in my first Paris visit, in 2003). It's funny how things change: the first time I saw it it was full of people having picnics in the grass, as one does. Last Sunday it was full of people running, doing aerobics, tai chi, and a number of other sports. The health craze that I noticed in London must be Europe-wide, and it looks like it hasn't missed Paris!
Thanks to
castalie's recs, we successfully achieved cupcakes at Berko and éclairs at L'Éclair de Génie. (Hah, I didn't realise the latter name was a pun until I was writing to Mouse about it, and so I couldn't tell M, who has an irrational contempt for puns.) (So, naturally, I have to make as many puns as I can think of, and point out any puns that he might have missed.)
We were both knackered though, M and I, so we couldn't manage as many things as I'd have liked to do / see in Paris. That, and the soaking Saturday, prevented this from being a magnificent weekend, so it was just good instead. ;)
I was not very impressed by my very first Eurostar trip. I suppose I was expecting an ~experience, and all I got was a train ride. I am very, very unimpressed by their "check in closes 30 minutes before departure, no exceptions" rule. I think it's just so travellers end up spending a lot of time - and money - in the post-check-in shops. Boo.
I love the streets, the houses, the flat iron buildings, the Seine, the cafes and bistros. I love how it's standard to sit around a table and enjoy food and conversation, and occasional people watching.
I like that one can find crepes at every corner, and boulangeries and patisseries. I like that people speak French.
I liked dragging up my rusty French to the surface and feeling like something was slowly thawing in the back of my mind.
I can't stop thinking what it would be like to live in Paris. I know very well, on my own skin as we say, that the immigrant experience is always ~different (read: worse) than the tourist experience, but even as a tourist, I didn't fall in love with London, the way I did with Paris, so maybe the same ratio would apply as an immigrant. Or course, with the added difficulty of age and exhaustion. (But also the advantage of wisdom gained, right? Right? >.>)
If you prefer Dreamwidth, you can reply or read the
comment(s) there.