Paris

It was 14 years ago when I first learnt all about Paris in French class and decided that I had to go there. You tend to forget things when your last lesson was more than 10 years ago so I brushed up my skills with a French Coursebook, which I would read on the trains.

The Eurostar is such a convenient way to get to Paris- check in 30mins before departing then arrive in the heart of Paris with only a 15 minute walk to the hotel. The train journey gave Warren plenty of time to read the Paris guidebook so he had our agenda for the weekend sussed. First stop was the Louvre. This by far exceeded our expectations. The Louvre is HUGE and absolutely full of not only famous oil paintings like the Mona Lisa but marble sculptures like Venice de Milo and ancient Greek and Egyptian relics dating right back to 500AD. We saw the essential Mona Lisa- which was behind a Perspex screen and roped off so you could only stand about 5 metres away from it with the rest of the crowd. It was quite small and while obviously a skilled piece of art that could conceivably be Leonardo de Vinci in drag, I don’t understand why this particular piece commands so much fame over all the other equisite pieces of art in the museum, some of them taking up a whole wall, so demanding your attention by size alone.
We spent a couple of hours browsing through the museum but still didn’t come near to seeing everything. We especially liked the roman statues displayed in such a way as to replicate a roman courtyard.
From here we made a detour to the Hotel to pick up the tripod and walked to the Eiffel Tower. Along the way I stopped off at a Boulangarie (French bakery) to buy a roll. The entire transaction was carried out in French and was quite proud of myself until I bit into my roll to discover it full of some raw kind of meat. Apparently ‘bayonne’ isn’t bacon!

The Eiffel Tower didn’t disappoint – a magnificent structure. There was a park in front of it with couples set up on the grass with their picnics. The closer you got to the tour the more crowed it became, until right at the base itself where there were queues of people waiting to go up. The visibility didn’t look to great so we thought we’d go back tomorrow. The tower looked really cool all lit up so I probably spent a couple of hours taking photos. From here we walked to the Arc de Triump. 13 roads feed into this intersection and on average there is an accident every 14 minutes. So we sat for about 30 minutes watching the chaos before us. We couldn’t make any sense or order out of it and were laughing at the absurdness of it. It appeared to be a 6 lane roundabout with no lines to segregate the lanes and sometimes cars would stop in the middle of the roundabout to let other cars in. Different rules appeared to apply to scooters- they would enter at full speed with the horn blaring and weave in and out of cars leaving a trail of swerving cars and slamming breaks behind them. Sometimes a car would get stuck in an inside lane trying to get out and everyone would go round then blasting their horns in disgust and would obviously must have been a tourist. Instead it appeared acceptable to cut in front of everyone across 4 lanes. While we saw a lot of near misses and Warren would exclaim excitedly ‘Hahah, look at that car” every 30 seconds, we didn’t see any carnage this time. As far as the Arc itself – another magnificent monument that didn’t disappoint. Ornately decorated and inscribed with what must be the details of battles fought, while underneath, the flame of the unknown soldier continuously burns. From here, we walked along the Champs Elysee back towards the Hotel. The Champs Elysee didn’t look as upmarket as I imagined it would be but I guess it’s hard to tell when a lot of the shops are closed. All the food places were open though and it was alive with people, in bars and restaurants and walking the streets. If anyone has done Paris, you will know that the metro is the normal means of transport so we did a lot of walking, which caused me to develop somewhat of a limp by the time we got back from what I think must have been shin splints though Warren told me he had only ever known fat people to get shin splints.. So I had a soak in the bath and collapsed into bed.

We started the next day in true Parisian style with a traditional breakfast at the Boulangerie. There we had the best pain au chocolate I’ve ever tasted. It was fresh out of the oven and still warm. Mmmmmmm. I ordered a filled baguette for Warren and being somewhat paranoid that all French Baguettes are filled with strange raw meats – I played it safe with chicken. Again, the entire transaction took place in French – yay me!
Being a Sunday morning, the streets were pretty deserted and all the shops shut. It was freezing too – a very brisk 13 degrees but still Warren wore shorts and tshirt. I think he was feeling a little self conscious about being the only person in Paris wearing shorts as we only spotted one other person and he was walking out of a gym! Our tour this morning involved walking around the streets and checking out the amazing monuments and buildings that seem to be on every corner. The Palais du Luxembourg was especially cool. A palace with beautiful flower gardens and a rond pond on the front garden where kids were sailing boats. (Known as the Jardin du Luxembourg) Autumn had turned the leaves a golden amber and made a beautiful romantic setting for all the couples cuddling on park benches. I lined up for my crepe citron in this park. I was 2nd in line behind a couple of teenagers but all their friends kept coming along and placing their orders so I ended up waiting forever; if only my French extended to ‘oye you, get to the back of the line – I was here first! My French again got challenged at Quickburger when Warren wanted his combo with wedges not fries. I didn’t have a clue what French for wedges was and ‘wedges’ said with a French accent left a very baffled girl at the counter who had to call for reinforcement. In the end we got it with ‘frites grande (big chips) but they are actually ‘rustiques’.

Recharged on crepes and rustiques we headed to the Notre Dame – an absolutely beautiful gothic cathedral dating back to 1345. Very ornate, you can understand why it took around 185 years to complete. There was a mass in progress when we visited. If felt quite sacrilege to be snapping away in a church standing behind roped banners looking at worshippers listening to a French sermon… but it made it more interesting. The soloist standing at the podium operatically singing a hymn and ladies lighting tealight candles in the side chapels and the scent from the white-gowned boy swinging an incense pot all added another dimension to the experience.
After walking – well limping- through the streets some more we made a stop at the hotel for a quick rest and to pick up the tripod. The plan was to take some night shots from the top of the arc de triumph but we failed to notice the no tripods sign. Oh well, at least we got to see some veterans doing a bit of a dedication at the tomb of the unknown soldier, which included a very bad rendition of the national anthem. So instead we went to take night shots at the Louvre which looks very cool all lit up with the pyramid out front. This time we took the Metro. Like the tube, the Metro is a fast and easy means of transportation although it took us a while to get out. Somehow we kept walking to other lines and platforms.
After half an hour or so of night photos we went in search of a traditional French restaurant. We found Chinese, Italian, Sushi, Italian, Lebanese and Pub French ie steak and chips- but nothing truly French. Starving by this time- we opted instead for fastfood followed by desserts and hot chocolate in a French restaurant/café. Chocolate mousse and red fruit crumble – delicious! Still feeling slightly peckish we paid our last visit to a crepe stand. The crepe stands of Paris are the Pretzel and Hot Dog stands of New York. They are everywhere. And whereas at home drunk teens end their night on a kebab, here it is a crepe. We got a giant Nutella and banana one. Mmmmm. If you ask for chocolate at a crepe stand you get Nutella. Strange but still tasty.
There was still a lot we didn’t see in Paris (Monmarte, Sacre Coeur) so obviously we’re just going to have to go again!

Sardinia - Italy

It had been raining constantly when we left so our colleagues were all jealous we were escaping a cold wet London for the sun and sand of Sardinia.
We arrived at our hotel at 10pm – quite a bit later than expected due to 1 hr delay on the flight and a strike on Alghero airport buses which meant every man and his dog were queuing for a taxi.
So the first port of call was the nearby Ristorante/Pizzaria where we ordered a spaghetti bolgonese and pizza. Both of which were very tasty. The restaurant was full of Italians but somehow the waiter knew we weren’t local and spoke some English to us when we walked in. We managed to order by pointing at the names on the menu after consulting the Italian book for a few unknown items. When we got the bill we were somewhat confused as to what the cover charge was and whether we were supposed to tip so we tried to see what the couple at the other table were doing but they just ordered more drinks so weren’t leaving in any hurry. So we left a couple of euro and headed off to bed.
We started the next day with the traditional European breakfast of bread rolls, ham, cheese, yoghurt and cakes. We then headed off to Alghero city for some exploring. Our hotel was across the road from the beach and about 20 mins walk from the city. The city is steeped in culture and history and is surrounded by an old wall due to it’s defensive position in centuries gone by. The centurion strenfico (old town) was the most interesting. Full of narrow, cobbled streets it was just like you see on the movies – like Italian job. Laundry hung on lines between buildings and people would open their shutters and talk to their friends in the street below. We spent most of Saturday wondering through the maze of these cobbled streets and walking along the waterfront. The cars here are very small and a lot of people motor around on little scooters- which makes sense because trying to drive through the streets in a Ford would be impossible. The shops of the old town were mostly expensive designer stores, jewellery shops, restaurants and there was a gelato/creamier on every corner. I had a lemon gelato which was the best I’ve ever tasted and fortunately did not end in the same disastrous way as my Cornwall Ice Cream experience!
Being the end of summer there weren’t many tourists around so it felt like we got a taste of the true Italian culture. Although they do say that Sardinia has a culture all of it’s own. We saw a few weddings in progress where it became apparent that it is traditional for a convoy of wedding cars, guests included, to drive through the streets with horns blaring so that you can hear them from a mile off and think there is some sort of emergency going on.
Apart from the horns of wedding ceremonies, it was surprising how quiet the place was- though it probably bustles to overflowing in summer. There were alleyways in the old town where we were the only people and the only sound was distant hums of scooters. Adding to the sense of quiet was the fact that none of the shops or restaurants have music in them.
My impression of Italians was of ‘out-there’ quite bold, bolshy people but this didn’t seem to be the case. They are definitely very stylish people though, being all dressed up in heels and designer sunglasses just to walk through town. Even the parents pushing prams had style – so I was feeling a little inadequate in shorts and tshirt. They all take a great deal of pride in their appearance and are definitely good looking people.
We took a look around the new city but all the stores were closed so we headed back towards the beach. That night we headed back into the city to find a restaurant for dinner. Loving Italian food we were spoilt for choice but they were all pretty expensive. Warren chose a spaghetti restaurant where he ordered a seafood dish that came with shellfish in it and I ordered a tomato and basil spaghetti. Thinking that I had ordered something healthy from the menu I was somewhat disappointed to see it came doused in a sauce of olive oil.
Before dinner we had wondered the streets some more and were surprised to see that the shops that were previously closed were now open. It was 9pm and town was busier than during the day. I guess they also live by the Spanish siesta philosophy of closing over lunch time then reopening later on. It was quite strange to see families with little kids and babies out at 10 o clock.
After dinner we wondered through the streets some more and see what the night life offered, but just like during the day, it was quiet everywhere. Our 2 attempts to walk towards the noise led us to an ice cream store and a private party where couples were dancing the tango on a balcony. We came across the cuba st/garden place equivalent of Alghero where crowds of teenagers were just hanging around with all their scooters parked up on the side of the street. But they all seemed well behaved, none of them appeared drunk. In fact you didn’t really see any people drinking, at least not in the parks and beach like you don in the UK – and even when it got really hot, the Italian men still kept their shirts on, so the tourists became easy to spot.

Like Saturday, we started Sunday with ham and cheese rolls and 6 pieces of cake (no prizes for guessing who ate all the cake!) We had done all the exploring of the city yesterday so the only touristy thing to do was to catch a bus and visit the caves. But looking at the brochures, I was pretty satisfied that these caves didn’t look any better than what we had seen in Niue. The sun was shining so instead we opted for hanging out on the beach. Before leaving London I checked the Alghero weather forecast which said overcast and a high of 24. Trying to pack lightly, I was now regretting the decision not to pack any shorts, skirts or togs. This was the hottest 24 degrees I had ever experienced! I tried to buy some shorts but most of the shops were shut and those that were open were only selling winter clothes. We went to the beach anyway and lucky for me there was a guy selling handbags and things on the beachfront. He didn’t speak much English but when I got the point across that I wanted a pair of shorts I was not too impressed when he looked me over then handed me a size extra large! We barted with another street vendor for a beach towel then headed for the soft white sand. It was so nice just to relax in the sun and sand, I can’t even remember the last time we had done that… probably in Gisborne in January. Warren went for a quick dip in the water then after drying off we walked back to the city for some dinner.
I went to some pizzeria and ordered a folded pizza thing with tomato sauce and cheese by pointing at it and holding up 2 fingers. That was very tasty but I was still a bit hungry so we went to another pizzeria where the guy obviously saw us coming as he charged us more for 2 slices of take-out pizza than what we paid for a whole pizza at the dine-in restarant on Friday night. It was very tasty but like a lot of the food, it was doused in olive oil. So as we sat outside munching on our pizza it was with some surprise that we watched another couple come out of the pizzeria with a bottle of olive oil and pour more of it over the top of their pizza. And yet you didn’t see very many fat Italians.
On the plane, I had flicked through the Italian phrasebook and had 2 opportunities to recite my memorised phrase ‘No parlo Italiano (I don’t speak Italian). I also said ‘gracie’ as I think it’s good manners to try and at least attempt to communicate in the language of the country but Warren thought my Italian attempts were quite humorous and he stuck purely to English which most people spoke anyway.
To end our perfect day there was a beautiful orange sunset over the marina. But travelling isn’t all smooth sailing as we had another delayed Ryan air flight home which meant tubes weren’t running so we were traipsing around the streets of London with suitcases in tow searching for night buses. Needless to say that Monday was a long day.