Dull , shark grey skies blanketed the city in a wintery embrace, clouds merging into one contoured mass, a steel beret. Poised women, silk scarved, designer bag toting and leather gloved, strutted the footpaths with a clatter of heels. Shop fronts gleamed with gilt letters and trendy logos, shoes or pastries on parade in every second one, the former in precision levels, all black leather and elevated heels, and the latter in a riot of colour, texture and variety. Electric scooters hummed between the traffic, riders tottering through intersections cutting a flimsy dance while hire bikes laboured between. Pedestrians ignored the right of way as well as the traffic signals, boldly crossing roads with impunity and ignoring the indignant honks from drivers as they screeched to a halt.
Tourists in cheap sneakers, North Face backpacks, gaily coloured puffy jackets and course-weave beanies, bustled to the Metro oblivious to the disturbing spreads of their unfolding maps and emergency stop meetings. Waiters hustled around under the outdoor heaters of the brasserie smoking areas, serving noisettes in tiny white porcelain cups, dressed in two-tone livery, their expanding bellies straining against coffee stained white shirts under slightly faded black waistcoats. Two Parisian newcomers entered the picture: did they blend in with their dark colors all leather, silk and wool, striding with purpose and confidence, the woman speaking with authority, a rich vocabulary, nuanced phrasing and an indistinguishable accent? Yes, until I managed to spoil the illusion as soon as my lack of language skills became evident despite my Gallic nose, but until then, we were blended in to our new spot, the Left Bank's 6th Arrondissement near St. Germain, gay Paris!
We'd endured an enervating and intense first semester at work, my first on Grade 8 English with a full caseload of five well patronized classes. Cass usually finds the first semester particularly taxing, and now, I fully understood why. Although I'd taught the program last year, it was to one small class only and now, the pressure of organizing, grading and communicating with 92 kids and their parents is quite gargantuan. We left our planning for the break to a critically late moment, meaning that accommodation options and flights were winnowed down to a point where we were happy to take anything we could get within reason. We decided on a very relaxing break and abandoned our usual trick of two or three destinations: Paris, two weeks, merci!
Knowing the city pretty well, we were keen to explore our new area and get to know the local brasserie, patisserie, bars among other essentials. Our hotel pick was cute and Parisian, exposed beams throughout indicating an aged building of character, yet also hinting at some fragile sound-proofing which proved to be the case. Nonetheless, the breakfast was bountiful and well-stocked, cooked eggs and sausages and ham along with a variety of cold cuts accompanied with yogurt, fruit salads and the ubiquitous variety of croissant, baguette and pain chocolat. With piping hot pots of coffee made upon arrival, the petit dejeuner set us up for the entire day of travelling and exploring.
Explore and travel, indeed, we did! With a vague itinerary of not-to-be-missed re-visits, we endeavoured to scour the city streets by foot rather than Metro. At first we wanted to get the vibe of the area and latterly, we realized that we were getting more from our experiences from walking backstreets and short cuts, always discovering quirky new spots and our legs were sturdy, our time mighty flexible and plentiful, so, why not? Various Musees, including L'Orangerie, Marmottan and D'Orsay drowned us in the heady perfume and dreamy vats of colour that are Claude Monet, our heads spinning day after day as we drank in the beauty of our favourite artist and exalted in the presence of such genius.
It was almost too overwhelming: despite our previous visits; it was intoxicating to be wrapped in so much beauty. Our tired feet disappeared and it was easy to blink ourselves back to a clifftop in Cassis or a garden in Giverny as we gazed in awe. The Renoirs and van Goghs at various venues, two full days of Picasso at the Pompidou and the Picasso Museum, the eclectic mix of masters in the basement of De L'Orangerie. All this art was a salve to our weary psyches and a reminder of our luck to be able to see it time and again in different venues.
Our visit revolved around art but that wasn't all that grabbed our attention. We spent different days wandering the gardens of the Palace of Luxembourg, window shopping in St. Germain, strolling the Champs-Élysées and re-visiting the Opera quarter around Hausmann and Place Vendome. Some of these moments were interrupted by forays into shoe shops to try on their wares and yet another couple of times to buy! We went to the movies a couple of times, the films partly forgotten but the quirky machines to buy tickets and the interesting seat layout not!
But wait, there's more! How about a trip up the Tower Montparnasse to get a 360 degree view of the city? How about a day visit to the palace at Fountainbleu, visiting the forest and village of Barbizon, the inspiration to many Salon painters in their stays in Paris? How about a special premier seats' viewing of La Traviatta at Opera Bastille? Somehow, we squeezed these events into our schedule as well. The castle was beautiful and full of treasures of kings and queens. On the way there we strolled the streets and spied the forests of Barbizon, and even encountered the infamous gillets jaunes (yellow vests) as they peacefully protested on the side of the road. We metroed to the Opera Bastille on Boxing Day evening to drink in the majesty of a stellar cast performing the much loved opera in the city of lights....what an experience, what a night!
Each evening we'd bundle ourselves up to exit whatever restaurant or brasserie in which we'd been lounging, full of pichets of red wines and whatever main meal and dessert we'd consumed. The food was divine wherever we went, and we ate in many recommended and some discovered spots in and around our neighbourhood like this and this. I consumed a lot of pepper steak and Cass a similar amount of pasta! Most nights were incomplete without takeaway flan and coffee eclairs to consume in bed watching crappy French TV before we nodded off to prepare for another day in the big city.
What a great trip we had: we often commented on how lucky we are to be able to do such a thing. Back to the grind this week, busy days leading to jet lagged nights: we're bolt awake at two in the morning and drowsy at two in the afternoon. This weekend provided a perfect antidote to the busy week and trip: we watched a lot of Big Bash cricket and slept eternally (it felt!).
Anyway, we're back to reality with a thud: at least the skies here are sparkling, a little reminder of the light shining from scores of canvases spread before us in the past few weeks! We're both loving our latest books: Cass is reading November Road by Lou Berney and I'm reading Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton.
Here's the link to the full photo album (warning: there are more than 400 photos!)