PARIS UNHINGED

Charging Station

Electric Car Charge

DAY 8: And so it came to pass that today would prove a bridge, or museum to be specifically correct, too far. For our last day of organised sightseeing, we plan to firstly visit the crazy world of the Pompidou Centre, the modern art museum that looks for all the world like the builder has forgotten to render the walls. The weather is very dull, drizzly and cold; matched to my demeanour means I'm holding a full house! Blissfully ignorant of the toll the previous day has taken on Team LegsyBoys, Don L is less than enamoured when we are running nearly 2 hours behind the schedule that slow burns in his head. We stroll past parking/recharging stations for electric cars - I've never seen them before. By the time we arrive at the centre, even the priority queue has a lengthy waiting list. I insist upon standing in the queue and instruct Dulcinea et al to have a wander for an hour. Things degenerate quickly, as the queue moves more rapidly than expected; frantic texts are not received and by the time of their return, we've missed the queue boat and I'm steamin'!! Some call it sulking, I prefer to think of it as inner focus; whatever, the weather runs a pretty lame second when I get 'the huffs'.

Your Guess Is As Good As Mne

Hotel deVille

We skip Pompidou and stroll down past Place de Hotel deVille and the giant ice skating rink (we don't tempt fate again. From there, it's an aimless wander across Pont au Change onto Cite. We stop to point out Grandad's favourite bridge and Liam takes a couple of photos of it with THE camera (at this stage I've decided to cease documenting our tour - see, I told you I'm good at it!). We stand outisde The Conciergerie and explain its significance and head towards the beautiful Sainte Chapelle; perfect, it's closed for lunch - this wouldn't have happened if we'd been on time (more storm clouds brewing)! Onward - and we're marvelling at Quasimodo's dream - the Notre Dame Cathedral. The kids are impressed - and hungry. So we make for one of Don L's favourite establishments (in an earlier life), and find a table in the Brasserie de la Isle San Louis. The waiter approaches and we begin to place our order; a bowl of frites is met with a disdainful 'non', and the advice that without ordering full meals all round that we were not welcome. Perfect! The only blessing is that los ninos and Dulcinea were out the doror before me and didn't hear the gobful of vitriol I poured on the maitre'd (D for Dickhead doesn't cover it!). Anyway, we ate across the road. From there it was but a stroll around the corner to partake of the finest ice-cream known to man. Berthillon is an institution that is simply a MUST VISIT for anyone in Paris. I don't care what the weather's like, it's never too cold for Berthillon icre-cream, and the LegsyBoys prove this! I have some magnificent licorice flavoured ice-cream, and because I'm still stewin' I don't take any notice of what everyone else has. Great ice-cream, but I'm locked into my fog now.


Grandad's Bridge - Pont Neuf

Le Conciergerie

The rest of the day? Buzz and I end up separated from the girls and as we walk past the Pompidou, I notice there are no queues. 'You want to go in?' "NO THANKS DAD!!!" And that's when it hit me. Ten and seven year olds don't feel a need to experience everything, and what I thought may have been a priority wasn't necessarily theirs; they were quite happy just absorbing the surrounds. Now, I may have worked this out, but it took another 24 hours for 'the shroud' to evaporate!

DAY 8 GALLERY:



Is Quasimodo In?



Notre Dame Gargoyles



Bill Putt & Mike Rudd (Astride)



Respects To The President Of Club 27

Pere Lachaise Cemetery

DAY 9: Girls and boys day. Las chicas head off to do the fashion thing for the day and Buzzy and I head out for a quick visit to Pere Lachaise Cemetery. In all my visit I've never been and it seems the right opporunity, especially as Buzz is compliant on the understanding we hit the toy stores next. It's actually quite pleasant walking amongst the dead; we pay our respects to Chopin, Delacroix, Balzac and Proust, and of course the 'big ticket' headstones of Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf and Jim Morrison. Buzzy is interested in who each is, particularly Piaf and Morrison, both of whom he can assimilate with via a knowledge of their music.The plaque commemorating the site of the execution of the last Communards in 1871 also bears some reflection, even if we don't fully understand; man to man, I love bonding with the little fella. He's perceptive too, wanting to know why people write graffiti on graves, particularly those surrounding the famous sites, and so we discuss how desecrating ANY grave shows a lack of respect - even for those you think you're honouring.


Wilde About Oscar



Buzzy & Piaf

GL Xmas Tree

And so to Galleries Lafayette for the rest of the day. We wander and play, do lunch and afternoon tea, and Liam overlooks the Lego for a new backpack - wonders never cease! We go back home and await the girls return with their booty (and they, too, have been in the GL!). The plan for dinner is to pop around the corner into the Marais, but upon arrival at Restaurante Derriere it is fully booked and even my charm can't get us in. No matter, we walk until we find a cosy bistro for a final night of traditional French fare - our plates are adorned with canard and steak and we have a wholly sumptuous repaste on this, our final evening. (Travel Tip: Paris, indeed France, has gone the way of other countries and it seems no longer leaves things to chance. Almost every establishment we ate in automatically added a 12.5% service charge, so gone are the days whena tip rewarded good service. It would seem that the cash cow food business that is the USofA may well be the last bastion of 'the tip').


DAY 9 Gallery:

Communards Execution 1871



Proust

Is That Really Where Demons Go?

Chopin

Jom Morrison - Pere Lachaise



What Can I Say??

DAY 10: We pack our bags, bid adieu o mine host Stefano (a lovely young Italian lad who owns half a dozen apartments in the area) and with 'bon voyage' ringing in our ears from the femme fatales, we head to Rocinante and load her up. There's time for nice walk along Rue St. Honore and we find ourselves at Colette, the fashion concept store that is THE name on everyone's lips. It's trendy - and seriously overpriced - but worth the look. There's also time for a bit to eat and time to put the final layer of cream on Buzzy's 'to-do' list; we share a plate of escargot, and it's superb. Man, that little boy just loves his food, and his preparedness to try things never ceases to amaze.

Escargot - Mmmm, Mmmm

Back to the car and it's an hour's drive to reach Charles DeGaulle airport, where Dulcinea and los ninos are to board an Easyjet flight home. Given I'd been, well...an ARSEHOLE for a day and a half, I was taken aback by Aimee and Liam's teary farewell; they are so forgiving and I am so lucky!

After 90 minutes of battling the immobile car park that is called the Peripherique, Rocinante can finally smell fresh air in her nostrils as we make for an overnight stop in Chatelleraut. The motel costs 29 euro; it's a bed and you get what you pay for. I head into town for one last serving of provincial cuisine only to be served the WORST canard I have ever had...period! Serves me right

Chatelleraut Roundabout Art

DAY 11: I've got some serious music on the seat beside me, the volumes cranked up to 'distortion' on the dial, there's a diet Coke in the drink tray and a bag full of treats. It's only 9 hours to home and it passes without incident. There's fog all the way to the border, and the French haven't eliminated the tolls during the week (it's a bit rude when there's no alternate road to take I have to say!). As I exit the el cheapo Spanish tollway gate near Burgos I am pulled over by the Policia. "Lo siento, no hablo Espanol" I nervously spit out, and he replies with the only English word he knows - "Licence". Now I'm a bit nervous at this point; even though I'm still legally able to drive on a foreign licence, I am all too aware of the penalties that are applied here, PLUS I have no idea what I've actually done since I have just exited a toll booth (and I am a religious 'cruise control' user yet to be convicted for speeding ANYWHERE!). I hand him my Victorian licence and he spends a confused 5 minutes just staring at it, clearly wondering how come I look so young given my date of birth. I pull out the International Drivers Licence and hand it to him; it's like a light bulb goes off - "AAAH!" He hands them back and waves me on with a "Gracias Guapo!". (Travel Tip: Get an IDL from your local RACV/NRMA etc if you intend driving overseas. All you need is a passport photo and current licence. They're cheap, produced on the spot and it takes 5 minutes. If you're gonna get pulled over then it makes a lot of sense to wave around a document that foreign policia can read).

 

Home and happy families. All holidays have their ups and downs, and ours are no different. We've had a ball in Paris and you know, I reckon we'll get back there. We know what's good, what's not, and we even have a great place to stay....plus there's the matter of a certain tower we need to climb!