"The end is where we start from..."

We knew that life in Paris would bring challenges. Weighing them against the fabulousness of living here resulted in an overall positive and life-enriching experience. I love Paris. I've loved living here - still love wandering the streets and gazing at the beautiful buildings. It's an amazing city. But I want to hold onto that amazement, so it's a good time to leave. Paris is not going anywhere and I can always come back for a visit. I feel like the person who is breaking up with another and saying that I still want to be friends!

We approached life in Paris with a huge dollop of humor - sometimes it's the only way to push through the infuriating bureaucracy, the randomness of the French opening hours and the crazy people you often meet on the streets. (Though I've earned that title on occasion myself!) We still laugh when we have to put our conversation on hold as a siren in the street below our apartment drowns us out with its wail.

We got used to a lot of what Paris threw at us - the traffic noise, the night-time party revellers and even the 6am street cleaning trucks that move slowly and noisily beneath the bedroom windows. My French has even improved such that my "Bonjour" is often answered now in French. I've stopped noticing the beggars so much. Have I become inured to them or had they, like the rest of the Paris locals, left for the summer months? However, my heart still breaks for the homeless as they try to find comfort wherever they can.

Homeless people sleeping in the Metro

I want to move on with fondness still in my heart for this city and for this apartment with its beautiful parquet floor and ornate cornices; with those windows that open onto the balcony from which I often observe the world below go about their business; with my desk by those windows giving me the quintessential Paris writers perch.

All year, I've gazed at the cafe below our window, thinking, "I should go there with my laptop and drink coffee and write." Yet, I only went there a handful of times and never with my laptop, only with other people - visitors from out of town. Because the truth of the matter is, I don't like to sit alone in a cafe no matter how writerly I may look with my laptop. I need people - lots of people - in my life. I'm a social animal, and I'm Irish, so the best place for me is a place like Armagh where everyone knows everyone and social interaction does not involve military precision.

So we're going before the little irritations of Paris become whopping pearls of annoyance - like, why are there always so many escalators broken in the Metro? Why is the parcel delivery still such a mystery?  And why don't French shops use AC? Why must the bottle bank below our bedroom window be emptied at 7am on a Saturday, a mere half-hour after the drunks have finished serenading us? And then there's the signage that stops three turns short of its destination...

Before these and many other annoyances take a firm hold, I want us to move on, move home! I want my family to drop in on me and I on them. I want to spend lazy weekends hanging out with friends. I want green fields. I want damp autumn winds blowing in my hair; a surprise snowy day in winter; the excitement of that first snowdrop in spring; birdsong insomnia in the summer;  cosy points of Guinness by the fire - possible all year long in Ireland. I want to feel excited again about a sunny day and to drop everything to take full advantage of it. But most of all - I want the craic!

We're lucky that my husband can work from home. So we decided to forgo the extortionate Paris rents and go home when the 1-year lease is up on the apartment. I'll miss the cheap cheese, caviar and wine and the architecture and the "mood" of Paris...

But I'll happily exchange it for delicious cider, artisan gins, Guinness, Tayto crisps, potato-bread, black pudding - Armagh is now being dubbed as "the food heartland" and there is a lot of culture that I'd never before appreciated. And let's not forget our own stunning architecture.

For a long time now I have yearned to gaze over the mists that lie in the hollows of the fields on our soft Irish days. It took me a decade and a couple of trips around the world to realize that there is one fair county in Ireland - I'm fortunate to call it home and even more lucky to be able to answer its call to come home.

" We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time" 

- T.S. Eliot

It feels like another new beginning, as exciting as any we've undertaken abroad, but without the homesickness and heartache of missing loved ones. All things considered - I simply can't wait to go home, back to the start of something wonderful.

Byddi Lee

How to Beat the Heat in Paris

Paris might be heavenly in the spring time, but this week it's been hotter than hell! At 9 am the outside temperature already matched the inside temperature - a blistering 28 °C (86 °F). 

I've lived in hotter, much hotter, but in a house with air conditioning in a region that cooled down at night. You could open your windows without having to listen to the full-on roar of city traffic going past a dozen feet from your bed (albeit 4 stories down!)

Today it is forecast to max out at 37 °C (104 °F) and hopefully by tomorrow, we will see a decrease in temperature.

So what can I do about it?

Well, I've read the article about 11 ways to cool down in Paris. It's grand - full of good advice like ... hang out in the hotels and drink G+Ts (can't afford the hangovers), go shopping in the big stores (can't afford the cash) or eat ice cream (can't afford the calories!) 

I did like the idea of jumping into a fountain and we do have a nice one beside us. 

But the only one actually in the fountain was a toddler, and I thought I might look a bit out of place lying there all day!

Other suggestions included finding a shady place in the park or a shady terrace, but we are way past "shady" on the thermometer!

I did embrace the suggestion to go swimming in an outdoor pool. I've tried this twice. It would be lovely if most of Paris hadn't had the exact same idea! 

The Piscine Josephine Baker is right on the banks of the Seine. It was two metros away and has a 25m pool - which is fairly standard, but I've been spoiled using the 50m pool under Les Halles, a 6-minute walk from the apartment. 

The Josephine Baker pool was crazy full when I went there a couple of weeks ago - before the heat wave, and it was hard to enjoy doing dedicated laps. It was probably fine to flop about in with your friends though I cannot imagine what it must be like now. I'm using the photo from their website. Even with a fisheye lens, it looks pokey, and it had at least 5 times as many people in it.

And there really is no view of the Seine as you swim. I'm not going back.

The other pool I tried was La Piscine Georges Vallerey de Paris. One shot on the metro but pretty much all the way to the end of the line (second last stop) and so a round trip of an hour.  The opening hours are funky too. Some days it's open in the afternoons and others it not. And the real hours don't correspond to what's posted online. For example, on Tuesdays, it was supposed to be open from 11.45 to 13.30 but they closed it at 13.00. Good job, I was there for 11.45 and hadn't landed any later. 

The two big attractions for me were that the pool was open air and 50 m long. The picture from their website looks amazing... 

The swimming here can only be described as vicious. Each lane has at least 18 people in it - I counted. People shoved, kicked and even shouted at each other. It was worst than the melee at the beginning of any open water race I've ever done. I battled my way through a kilometre swim then sat out in the sun for a bit. Out of the water, the atmosphere was a bit nicer - people made eye contact (and I don't mean with heels or elbows like in the lanes!) and a couple of women even chatted with me. So that was nice, and it distracted me from the 30+ heat that was brewing in the real world.

The other suggestions - go to a church, the catacombs, a movie, hire a boat - all good, BUT at the end of the day, I still needed somewhere cool to sleep and I didn't fancy kipping in the Catacombs or Notre Dame. We did escape last Saturday night to a low priced but very new and air-conditioned hotel just north of Orléans - more about that in a later blog post...

During this heat wave, my days revolve around watching the inside and outside temperatures so that I know when it's time to open shutters and window or close them. I spend my afternoons writing in an over-warm, darkened room - not a great place for the psyche to hang out. But it's only for a short time, I tell myself. It will cool down by the weekend and then I'll have my "lovely" Paris back again.

We have a little fan that we brought from San Jose (and never used there!) If you set it up with a block of ice behind it, you have a mini air conditioner. 

I freeze bottles of water and have a constant supply - when the ice is half melted, the air is at its coolest. It's basically GCSE Chemistry. I could write a whole piece on why this works, but it's all down to the frozen water molecules taking heat energy from the air to break the little bonds holding the ice together. It's cool - literally! And if you don't believe me, you can look it up here.

My Uncle Liam taught me how to make a swamp cooler with a damp towel and a fan many years ago. It was a lesson I never forgot and have even improved upon. I thought, if evaporating water absorbs heat energy then melting it would use even more - so I rinsed a few bath towels in the washing machine, folded them up still wet and put them in the freezer. 

It's important to use the washing machine first to spin the towels because if they are too damp you'll have trouble getting them out of the freezer and unfolding them. Unfolding them is key - you want a large surface area. 

Hang the towels around your room and you will immediately feel the drop in temperature. It's not a lot, and not for long... but better than a kick in the head (for that, you can go to Piscine Georges Vallerey de Paris!)

When the temperatures drop at night - It only got down to about 25 °C (80 °F) last night - we open the windows. That's a whole different world of pain! We live on a really busy road with a vibrant pub and bar scene. The traffic - poor man's ocean- we can kind of get used to, except for the motorcycles who take joy in revving their engines. Then the drunks come out and sing - usually between 1 am and 4 am. I've gotten used to them too. But the thing that gets me riled is the street cleaners at 5.30am. Their little trucks are the noisiest out there and hell bells, can't they clean at 10 am? I have seen them during the day too so it's not that they are off the roads and not obstructing traffic 9 to 5.
Then yesterday morning there was a new annoyance. At 5.30am the bottle bank right under our bedroom window was being emptied. As you can imagine it's not a quiet procedure - lots of smashing and crashing of glass. But again, another thing my brain has learned to filter out in the middle of the night unless it gets obnoxious and wonders why these things need to be done at that time of the morning. But no, that wasn't the thing that kept me awake fantasising about taking pot shots from the balcony (thank God, I don't have a gun because sometimes with those motocyclists.. I'd be like, "Aim once, aim twice, aim bike!") Oh no, it was the wee beep beep beep you hear when a truck is reversing, going on for 15 mins. Eventually, I got up and looked out the window. It was now 6 am and there was a man in a crane with a brush sweeping leaves off the top of the public toilet cubicle across the street. FFS! It took him 45 minutes to do this!

The view from our balcony complete with bottle bank and toilet - and no, that's not my washing machine!

I wouldn't mind all this cleaning if the streets of Paris actually got clean but... well, that's a whole other post and one best written when I'm not all sleep deprived and hot and bothered!

And just when the air temperature dropped to a comfortable 25 °C (80 °F), the traffic noise abated to a gentle purr, the drunks had all passed out and the cleaners had clocked off, just then, well that was the moment the alarm went off and it was time to get up a face another day sweltering in Paris!

Sometimes it's just hot and there's nothing more you can do about it other than stick some more towels in the freezer. Them's the breaks - let's just hope the weather breaks and soon...before I start throwing washing machines off the balcony!

Keep cool folks!

Byddi Lee
 

Dining up the Eiffel Tower

Originally built as a temporary structure at the entrance to the 1889 World's Fair, the Eiffel Tower still stands and has become an iconic representation of all things Paris. For me, it defies reason, this lattice of wrought iron that should be ugly, but which, no matter when I see it takes my breath away with it's beauty. It glows with spectacular golden light at night.

The tower is equally magnificent in the cold light of day.

My Sister gifted us a voucher for a meal for two in 58 Eiffel Tower, the restaurant on the first "floor" (that large platform atop the 'legs' of the tower.)

It was a great present, not least because it was the kind of thing we may never have actually splurged on for ourselves. So we got ourselves dolled up and headed out for an evening of getting up close and personal with this gigantic mechano set!

You can pay extra to have a seat at the window, which is exactly what my generous sister did. This was the view from our seat, overlooking the seine and the Trocadero.

The meal is a set dinner and you get to choose from four or five options for starter, main course and  desert as you sip on the glass of champers that's included.

You also get two glasses of wine per person - your choice of red or white. The white was a sauvignon blanc which I actually liked. The red was a Bordeaux and My Husband chose that. There didn't seem to be a choice other than that and we were happy with their selection. More discerning wine buffs might have an issue here.

The menu had what I would describe as "safe" options. The food was fresh and cooked to perfection. The portions were small but satisfying. There were two sittings an evening 6.30pm and a later one at 9pm. Possibly because everyone was seated at the same time, there was a sense of mass catering.  Everything was nice but nothing spectacular when compared to the meal we'd had almost a year ago in Singapore at the top of the  Marina Bay Sands, in the restaurant called (ironically) Ce La Vi.

But really, we weren't there solely for the food, and the staff were nice, giving my husband a lovely fruit salad for desert when he couldn't find a menu option without cream. 

After dinner we took in the views, climbing up the stairs (even though the lift ticket was included in the price) to the second "floor" which, as My Husband kept pointing out, was more than one floor in a conventional building up.

We arrived there just in time to see the moon pop out from behind cloud.

Hidden...

And there it is!

Despite the chilly night the views were amazing! Above on the left, you can see the big wheel at Place de  la Concorde (where Marie Antoinette lost her head)  and the Pantheon on the right.

Below, that's the Pantheon to the left and the building with the blue lights at the top Mountparnasse Tower.

The Seine, with Sacre Coeur on the horizon just right of center.

The top of the Eiffel Tower was closed. I'm not sure if it was because it was night time or if it is closed right now.

The most magical moment was when the lights all sparkled in the on-the-hour light show!

Back inside for a warm up and a nosy through the shops. The Parisians love their Eiffel Tower and their macaroons so this was a double whammy of their amour!

A great evening out - thanks to My Sister. Next time we go up the Eiffel tower hopefully she'll be with us.

 
Byddi Lee

Parisian Pooches

The doctors office was tucked way back in the bowels of a building that has been around since before Christopher Columbus discovered the "New World." Two doors with complicated intercom systems later, I found myself sitting in a tiny waiting room that had a piano taking up a quarter of the space. The opposite wall was dominated by a huge old painting with a clutter of "objects d'art" covering the sideboard beneath it. There were books everywhere, a low love seat and two bistro chairs. The one other person there explained that she wasn't a patient, she was waiting on her friend and I was next.

The door to the doctors office opened delivering two men and two dachshunds - one a scruffy long-haired ginger and the other a sleek chestnut brown! Even as I admired how cute they were (the dogs, not the men) I had a moment of panic. Had I mixed up the French words for Doctor and Veterinarian? Had I booked myself in for an appointment with an animal doctor? And if so, would he write me the prescription I needed for my migraine medication anyway?

But no need to panic - this was a doctor's office and the doggies belonged to him. I had my consultation, with the adorable scruffy ginger mutt sitting on my knee. (I seem to have an affinity for shaggy haired doggies - being shaggy haired myself). The prescription was written and doggie kisses received and I left the office thinking, "That would never happen in the US!"

They do love their dogs in California. In fact, I think it borders on the ridiculous. For example, I have a friend there who buys shoes for her dog to wear. She says its because the dog's paws get sore when it goes hiking with them. I worry about the coyotes... they are barefoot and outside all day and all night long!

I have another good friend who has a stroller for her dogs in case they get tired walking! Maybe they're wearing the wrong shoes. People dress their dogs in California, some claiming that their pooch gets cold! Cold? In California? For goodness sakes - I only wore clothes there because I was being considerate of others!

But the French are crazy about their dogs in a different way, and in a way I can understand. They allow their dogs to go pretty much everywhere with them, the doc being a great example. (The doggy poop on streets issue seems to have been addressed from what I've seen too, thankfully.)

My French teacher allows her adorable Chico to sit in on our lessons, which isn't really fair since Chico already knows more French than me!

Sometimes Chico's girlfriend Luna joins us.

The doggies agree with me - learning French is very tiring!

When Chico lies like this my French teacher tuts and says with great sympathy, "Ah Chico,

cette leçon est très difficile!" - this lesson is very difficult - I always agree!

I was really surprised to see dogs inside restaurants, even fancy ones - by fancy I mean "10th wedding anniversary" fancy. We aren't just talking "service" dogs here. It seems to me that concept is unknown to the French. All dogs are service dogs here.

This little guy walked up and down a bit during his people's meal but behaved himself really well! He is the first I've seen wearing a coat. What is sad is that his coat is newer and more trendy than the one my husband insists on wearing!

I shudder to think what it would be like to bring My Mums dog Rhubarb into a restaurant! But she too is a cutie-pie and I have to include a picture of her.

And of course one is never enough! She likes to lie on a golden pillow -mais bien sûr! Actually Rhubarb doesn't know any french...but she does know how to spell, "Walk!"

She really is a sweet little thing!

Byddi Lee

Christmas Displays in Paris

Even the Christmas decorations are extremely artful in Paris.

 

The Galeries Lafaytette Paris has combined art, Christmas decor and environmental education in their display, which celebrates a polar winter to raise awareness of climate-change.

 

All the decorations are made from paper. I wondered if it was to highlight the importance of recycling. Unfortunately, the website falls short in its explanation of why the artist (yep, a real artist was commission to create the display, not just someone from PR sticking up tinsel in-between interviews for hiring seasonal staff!)

Evidently in the future the poor polar bears will have to learn how to row boats since ice bergs won't be available but at least the New Paper Titanic will be safe - silver linings, right?

And I wasn't sure why they had cable cars in an ice cave but like me and most art, I probably missed the point!

With this push for environmental awareness, what's ironic, but hardly surprising, is the complete fail to discourage people from buying goods they neither need, want or maybe cannot afford. Consumerism is a huge a threat to our planet, but hey! It's Christmas!

These kids were certainly enchanted.

The most universal symbol of Christmas here in Paris is without a doubt le sapin, the Christmas tree. Galeries Lafayette has a giant paper one beneath their stunning stain-glass dome.

Everywhere you look, there are trees...

...depicted in some shape or form.

Hung on the wall...

In red...

In white...

In macaroons!

 

Or other edibles (I think!)

Fashioned from pallets...

 

Or just sticks...

 

Or just a triangle of fir branches will get the message across...

 

Multi-story ones made with lights...

And accompanied by giant moose - to see the scale of these moose, here's one with humans inside Les Halles - three stories underground in the world's largest train station! Is it any wonder we were lost inside it for the first month?

 Even Mc Donalds has a pretty nice tree display.

Le BHV Marais went with a ski theme. I'm not sure what their connection with Val d'Isere is, but I can't fault their taste in ski resorts!

They have Santa Claus doing yoga on a ski lift.

But I don't feel that the Santa's are as well depicted as the Christmas trees - really, would you trust your kids with this guy?

And this Santa is just plain lewd!

Not sure what the weasel was supposed to represent! Is it a comment on the fashion industry in general?

 And perhaps with all that Christmas window-shopping you'd like to have your lunch here?

 Byddi Lee