Paris was far from restful! We played the part of tourist very well. Our tiny studio was in classic Parisen style, the bed took up the whole room and the toilet made terrifying noises when flushed, tolling ever closer to the time that it just rejects the input and decides to spew everything back out of its tired old pipes. You would not wish to be there when that happened.
Naturally, our first purchase was a croissant each and a chocolate brioche to share at the nearest boulangerie on the corner. Crispy, buttery, melting-in-the-mouth delicious. Then went on a “little walk” that turned into a walking tour extravaganza, down from our flat in the 9th arrondissement, just south of Montmartre, down through Opera to Les Tuileries, a quick coffee hiding from the drizzle in the gardens before walking up through the Louvre complex to the Cité, past Norte Dame, though to the Rive Gauche for what was by now a rather desperate search for some kind of supermarket to quell the hangriness that was brewing between us.
Like the bohemians we wished we were, we had a baguette with a wheel of cheese and freshly sliced ham on a bench by the Seine, watching the swans prune their feathers while bobbing past. We shamelessly drank red wine from the bottle to wash it all down. I imagine French people do this all the time… The real ones probably don’t.We tottered up river to the Eiffel Tower, donning our super sexy his and hers macs in sacs when the rain started again. In Midnight in Paris, the lead character always dreams of Paris in the rain in the ’20s. I’m not so sure about the former.
Paris that night was alive with music. Turns out that 21 June is an annual festival de la musique and on every street corner there was another live band with a different type of music; from 80’s French rock to gypsy jazz, all the way to a haunting Bowie tribute act playing down to a captivated audience from a 5th floor window, never speaking, just singing the greatest Ziggy Stardust hits into the night.
Knackered + fatigué = knatigué