OSS 117

My 'french teacher' Gael  has filled up my hard-drive with some essential viewing, to add to my Hitchcock collection and introduce me to French film. I watched the first last night, 'OSS 117', absolutely hilarious! Like 007, but more ridiculous, and French. Missed a fair few of the jokes obviously, and couldn't tell you what they were saying 100% of the time, but understood or not I thought it was great!

And hopefully I'm going to see Eddie Izzard doing his show in French, which will undoubtedly be past my level of French, but funny. Wouldn't have had a clue he was doing it if he hadn't walked past me yesterday! First celebrity spot in Paris: I had just come out of a really cool bar in Montmartre and he walked up the street. Gael had no idea who I was talking about/staring at/resisting the urge to run up to so I couldn't be sure, but through the joys of socially acceptable stalking via Twitter I confirmed I was right!

The bar was 'Marlusse et Lapin', and it was like a little cottage; a normal enough bar at the front but go through to the back room and you're in a wallpapered bedroom, with a bed (cushions down the middle to make it 2 sofas), old-fashioned phone, dressing table, and a wardrobe housing the sound system. And a sewing machine table! Apparently they show films too, at the request of customers.
Another new one for me, also in Montmartre- Bluenote, a packed little Brazilian bar, where we danced away the hours of Sunday morning with some extremely sweaty and fairly hairy regulars!

Tonight family arrives: Christopher, Moira and Gran are coming for just two nights and a day, so I have been clearing a space hopefully large enough for us all to at least stand in my studio at once, and trying to work out how to fit lovely Paris into one long day. I predict lots of coffee stops!

The first really hot day of the year was Saturday- working 9am-8pm at the weekend had never been so much fun as making pizza and biscuits for a picnic in the park, followed by an ice cream outside the Pantheon.

Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, with wobbly bridge, fake rocks and 'Roman Temple'; lovely for a picnic, even if it was on a less sunny day!

This is terrible. I am seriously becoming more stupid.

I am forgetting English. I'm usually pretty good at English, at least I used to be (I have my dissertation to prove that I was, back in 2009). Now; I am struggling with the Guardian 'quick' crossword. The two art questions I got in a jiffy, but took over 15 minutes to remember who the god of love is, and longer to think up 'opinion' as a 'view held without positive proof'. And I'm not even being compensated by getting better at French- I'm still terrible in French!

Oh deary me.

I'll partly put it down to tiredness, last week was a long one, travelling to Scotland with the 4 year old and spending 87 waking hours with him (approximately) by the time we got back to Paris on Tuesday night. We had fun, him more than me I'm sure, but it could have been a lot worse. Thank goodness for the neighbours' trampoline in the garden. It has confirmed that I shall not be wanting children any time this decade, if at all. I just quite enjoy sitting on a bus without a clammy child leaning on me, and going for lunch in child-unfriendly places, and to have conversations in which I don't have to continually -use the fork not your fingers- interrupt myself -no no it's going to spill if you do that!- where was I?

But anyway, the sun is out in Paris! Finally it's good enough to sit in the park and draw all day, the cafes are full, and the windows in the courtyard are flung open. The one opposite mine is opened wide, with its inhabitant hanging out, half-nakedly painting his window-frames.
A la prochaine x

Old news

I have been storing up stories to tell you, mainly because my internet works so rarely I don't get to upload them very often. So excuse me if these are a bit out of date...

One night then, some time in the past weeks, Laura and I had joined Claire and friends at the Mojito bar, and followed them to somewhere called Bar N'importe Quoi. We followed them for a long time, backwards and forwards along Rue de Rivoli before actually finding the place, so that by the time we got there the expensive rum had worn off and our feet were sore. Luckily it was a good bar, if you excuse the sleazy offers of a bottle of spirits to anyone who gives up their bra.That in itself doesn't bother me too much, but being asked to donate mine by one of the friends of friends who hadn't spoken to me all evening... emm, no!
Sat in the smoking area for a lot of the night; why is it all the interesting people smoke? A man called Marc kept pouring out shots of caramel vodka, I think he might have owned the place, or at least he thought he did. No matter. I chatted to someone who; it later turned out, works in the same 6-man team of air traffic controllers as one of my employers! Paris ain't so big after all. Feels big though, when you walk home from Chatelet, in heels.

The weekend with Meroe I've already told you about, so to the week after. It felt like a holiday, only having 3 days to work before another night out. This time it was Kayt's 26th birthday in the Republique area, and Laura couldn't come so I made my way there on my own. So rarely we're apart on nights out it felt a bit scary getting on multiple metros on my own, again in heels, going the long way around to avoid Chatelet. But it was a fantastic night- felt like I was at home. Bar International was like an art school party: people mooching and dancing about, squished together around the bars, to a huge variety of music. I was the first time I've heard Dizzee Rascal in Paris, but don't let that put you off! A place to go back to in my opinion, but we moved on to Alimentation General- a nightclub in a converted corner shop? It was less busy, but had the advantage of staying open till 5. We paid our tenner in, and used our 'free drink included' to get 9euro mojitos; I still can't decide if this was good value or not! Had a dance, and then stopped for crepes to while away the time before the metro opened to get us home just after 6am.

On a less wild night, Laura and I went to see The King's Speech which we loved, with the added luxury of going to Odeon just around the corner which is far too expensive for us usually. We had free passes given to Laura 'en lieu' of pay which is not really acceptable, but as it got us to the cinema I'll let it slide...

To illustrate:

The biggest lemon meringue tart I've ever seen, or eaten.

 at Le Loir dans la Théière.

at the Mosquée de Paris salon du thé- gorgeous.

, 

The 'caviar' mojito.

Cheese, bread, tomatoes and olives from Bastille market, bliss!

Indulgence.

Maybe France is having more of an effect on me than I thought: I plan days and weeks around meals and coffees.

Meroe, who is my oldest friend, came to pay me a visit this week and turned out to be a fabulous excuse to get out and enjoy Paris, and eating. We managed to pack in lunch at Cosi (salad, amazing bread and crumble), a burger at Breakfast in America (it being Sunday,) then lunch at Le Loir Dans La Théière (quiche, then coffee and the most ridiculous amount of meringue to ever be put on a lemon tart- photo to follow.) Croissants and coffee chez moi, courtesy of Paul; mint tea and sticky pastries at the Mosquée de Paris; a road-side crêpe, and more boulangerie treats sweet and savoury for tea while babysitting. 

Indulgence for 3 days! And we didn't stop at food, gorging also on art at the Centre Pompidou and Musée d'Orsay, fashion and jewellery at Les Arts Décoratifs on Rue de Rivoli, and at the Dior exhibition in Le Bon Marché Rive Gauche. 

(Incidentally, having had no internet access I hadn't heard anything about Galliano before going- obviously the clothes were still amazing but it did lead us to wonder why geniuses seem to be prone to being not very nice.)

And -writing this down makes it seem even more ridiculous- we even had time to watch the rugby and do a pub quiz at the pub up the road, and try some extravagant mojitos at the Bacardi Mojito Lab at Bastille. Mine was transformed into sorbet and very strong, Meroe's was classy with Prosecco and 'caviar' made of jellified cassis.

A pretty great few days really, and it doesn't get much quieter in the next few weeks, what with planning for my trip home with the wee one, birthdays, and finding the time to catch up with friends who have somehow managed to avoid me since Christmas. 

Bye for now, xx

p.s. As I always go on about how great places are and forget to 'reference' them in any way, here you go: 

Cosi, 54 rue de Seine, near Odéon.

Breakfast in America, http://www.breakfast-in-america.com

Le Loir Dans La Théière, 3 rue des Rosiers, near Saint Paul.

Café Maure de la Mosquée de Paris, 39 Rue Geoffroy St-Hilaire, near Jardin des Plantes.

Wos Bar, 184 rue Saint Jacques, near Luxembourg.

Bacardi Mojito Lab, 28 rue Keller, near Bastille.

A holiday.

Sunday 12th.

It's just generally odd, going on holiday with your employers. Awkward in so many ways; not just when they argue, but sleeping in the living room and being the last to get up, being "off work" but unable to refuse to play with the kids, and particularly having to explain that you can't afford to snowboard all week. Fun times in the French Alps with the au pair family!

Valloire, as well as being where my brother's p7 class came on a school trip, is a small resort, favourite among French families and oldies; the only people who look vaguely my age are the staff. Many more skiers than snowboarders, the French being, apparently, traditional in their sporting habits- I was told by a 20something French guy last week, after waiting for him to stop laughing, that snowboarding is "a man thing." Drinking beer and watching the rugby? Yes, them too.

Anyway while the boys had skiing lessons this morning I got myself a 4 hour pass and went off adventuring on my own, only realising on the lift up that I'm terrible with maps (it's hard tell which direction a piste goes in!) and usually rely on Cat, my snow-buddy back home. But I managed, and wasn't too bad for the first day snowboarding in a year, I hardly fell at all until a skier went and tripped me up spectacularly, ouch. The weather's great, sunny and warm, but isn't doing much good to the slopes. Or my big red face: I wore factor 50 suncream, plus green-tinted barrier cream with spf 15; still I look like a tomato.

I won't be snowboarding tomorrow or Tuesday, maybe a bit of sledging with whichever child I'm left with, so hopefully by Wednesday my body will be ready for a full day. In the meantime I'll try to find a bar with wifi and post this, and maybe even talk to someone. By the time we go back to Paris I'll be so starved of normal conversation I'll be babbling!

Thursday 17th.

So only one day left, the week hasn't been too bad at all. We've all relaxed into it a bit, got used to having only cottage cheese and honey for pudding and living in the one apartment together.
I've resorted to smuggling chocolate in my jacket pocket to eat when the kids are in bed. I know it sounds ridiculous but these kids are so healthy, and I'd feel bad starting the inevitable...

Maman, Papa, why can Mairi eat chocolate and not us, it's not fair
    (Because Mairi's an adult.)
No she's not.
        Yes I am, and I can eat whatever I like.
But chocolate's not good for you it will make holes in your teeth and they'll fall out and you'll have to go to the dentist.
        Mmhmm, well never mind eh.
I want some!
        Well you can't have any.
But why?
        Because your mum and dad say so.
Then you can't have any.
        No, I don't have to do what they say, but you do.
But why?
        Because you're 4 and 5.
5 AND ELEVEN-
        -Yes 5 and eleven months I know.
But it's not fair!
        No it's not fair, tough.
What is 'tough'?


I improvised myself some crash pants today, which worked fairly well considering it was mainly just socks, stuffed into back pockets and inside my leggings! Wish I'd thought of it earlier- my bum is seriously injured, flowery bruises blooming all over, and knees, elbows, shins, somehow even thighs too.

Sunday 20th.

Back in Paris, after a lovely night's sleep in my own bed, (even if I did dream I was in The Wire) I still woke up at 7.30 just as if the boys were shouting in the next room! But happily rolled over and went back to sleep. The joys of living alone!

Over the week I did 17 hours of snowboarding, which cost a bit too much really, but it's such a small resort there was nothing else to do bar sitting in the flat watching films, and that's just a waste of being in the Alps! Didn't venture off the blues and greens because I'm a wimp and get scared when people go too fast, and even more scared when little children skiers try to squeeze through behind me where I can't see them and nearly kill us both. Next time though!

For now it's back to city life, catching up with friends, museums and a bit of painting. xx

Better late than never...

I can hear!!
After my second visit to the doctors in 3 weeks, I am free of ear infection and free of earwax! Lovely I know. Right now I'm enjoying hearing both treble and bass listening to Basement Jaxx, but later I know I'll wish I'd waited until after work to stop being deaf- swimming pool changing rooms apres-lesson are quite loud enough.

Seeing as I've experienced so much French medical care I'll take you though it:
Forget the usual reception-waiting room-Doctor calls you through down the corridor routine. In Paris, find the Doctor's name on a plaque on the door of the third floor of an apartment building like any other, follow the signs to someone's living room with magazines on the coffee table, wait until your Doctor finds you and takes you to their cosy office with nice chairs and massive desk, and proceeds to diagnose you swiftly without asking many questions, and give you three times as many prescriptions as you'd think you need. Very thorough. I got nasal spray, sachets to drink and the biggest antibiotics I've even seen, and was referred to an ear-specialist the following week with another prescription for ear drops- if I want them. As if! Here's hoping the securite social is as efficient in giving me some of my money back- all of that set me back 105 euro... a week's wage.

I suppose I've been quite busy again, catching up with everyone, getting to know a few new places including the Bacardi Mojito Lab at Bastille- a very cool place with computers for tabletops and every kind of mojito you couldn't imagine- served with blackcurrant jelly 'caviar', candyfloss on top, or smoked, with ginger, or cinnamon, or in a ball of ice, the menu was incredible. The barman could have done with a bit of juggling practise to match the guys shown on TV screens, but still impressive.
I also have been to a friend's flat in the 16th which I didn't realise was such a posh area until we walked past 4 countries' embassies on the same street. Enjoyed multiple pastries and coffees with the girls, (we're a bit obsessed with 'eclair chocolat' and 'chasson aux pommes' from Paul at the moment) watched a tap class I'm going to join tomorrow, and booked flights home for a week in March. This is no ordinary holiday though- I'll be bringing the 3 year old with me for a language immersion type trip! I hope no-one thinks he's mine, cute as he is- I have been out of the country for a while, but not that long!

Highlight of the week was getting haggis on Burns' Night! Knowing we were working at night Laura and I went to Wos Bar in the afternoon because we knew they had some, but it was defrosting. Had to make do with a half pint and a free shot for wearing our tartan skirts, and Scottish chat. After a fairly sleepy afternoon (!) I worked until 10pm but the soup we'd had for tea just hadn't filled me up, so I made my way back to the pub afterwards. I sat at the bar, perfectly alone, drinking my orange juice and eating my haggis out of a wee bowl with a teaspoon. A bit sad yes, but definitely worth it!

I've started reading A Tale of Two Cities, watching The Wire, continued to practise my poor french. Film-wise it's Hitchcock season, ticked off Marnie, Rear Window, Notorious and Psycho, which were all excellent. Got my trainers out in preparation for going for a run, and thought about how much snowboarding is going to hurt in a couple of weeks, but just can't make myself go that little bit further and actually DO the exercise.

One things that's been annoying me is Sundays. I never remember to get food in on Saturday, especially if I've been working, and then spend Sunday hunting for milk and biscuits. By the evening I've given up and decide to eat out, then no-where's open save for the American diner! I've been wishing someone would write a list of food shops and pharmacies and restaurants open on Sundays, but no-one has so I'll have to do my own research and make one. Remind me later.

To work now, then 3 whole days off to enjoy, with my sister coming to visit. A good excuse to go out for tea and pretend I'm on holiday. With so many plans made and things to look forward to spring will be here soon, hurray! My little purple flowers in my window box are shivering but look lovely.