I've always said, if you're going to order the champagne, then make it French!
I haven't always said that but if I was a person who could afford to, then I would. So because I'm in another country and I can be whoever I want to be, last night I pretended that I was that person and booked myself into the 'diamond section' at The Crazy Horse strip show!
Before I went though, I had to solve my lack of warm clothing issue. I went to every second hand store I could find in search of a warm, cheap, smart coat. Not possible it seems. However I did get a fabulous long black sheepskin number with big big fur around the sleeves and the collar for just forty euros! All synthetic of course but weighs about as much as my doona and just as warm. Also, because it's way too big, it does have a hobo feel going on, but I think that's all the rage at the moment.
One thing that's never the rage is the second hand clothes shop smell and unfortunately my new coat is a stinker. To take it into the diamond seating league, I hosed it down with my Chanel Mademoiselle perfume. Now teamed with my new Paris shoes and a fancy dress, I was ready to step out into the night!
It took a while to not be self conscious about looking like a homeless person with great shoes, but I took comfort in the fact that I was not going to cry tonight from cold-ness. I pictured myself in a scene from a French film as a walked across the Seine and focused on the glamorous night ahead.
And it was glamorous! And I felt glamorous, from the moment I was greeted at the door of The Crazy Horse and personally escorted to my own private booth, with my own bottle of champagne on ice, with the best view in the house!
It did fall apart a little bit at the cloak room, where a few bits of the coat broke off, but it was quickly forgotten I think. Also, the Chanel perfume was not the solution to the musty smell. As I handed the lady the coat, I cringed at the now very very very sweet musty aroma evaporating off all my clothes.
But once I was settled into my little nook and had time to take in the buzz of anticipation in this 'oh so French!' cabaret lounge (and a few glasses of the bad champagne), all was forgotten.
It doesn't take long for me to get a bit chatty on the cheap stuff, so before the show started I had hauled in a local French girl, her visiting girlfriend from Melbourne and an Estonian cruise ship entertainment producer, who I insisted share my booth with me because her seat was small and measly and obviously not of the diamond variety.
The show was incredible! Classy and exciting and extravagant. Minimal sets and costumes (obviously) but with such spectacular lighting that it felt like a million dollar show... and the ladies were beautiful. They were svelte and porcelain and raunchy.
The sexy vignettes were broken up by a juggling act where two men stripped down to their jocks while hurling enormous bowling pins at each other. Then they dressed again in each other's clothes, still hurling, without ever dropping a pin. The crowd went wild! ...or maybe just me. Regardless, brilliant!
It was cruel to have to leave. My new friends all went home at the end of the show so I felt a little deflated. As I headed towards the cloak room I wondered how I might take some of the night's excitement home with me. I visited the gift shop on the way out and bought two lighters, a pen with a naked girl on it and two sets of 'nippies' (glittery patches that you stick on your nipples)... not really what I was after though.
I snuggled into my stinky coat and walked through the busy Paris night in my new shoes. When I stopped concentrating on manoeuvring around the cobblestones, I looked up and saw the Eiffel Tower, all lit up, just like the stage at The Crazy Horse.
Right next to me on the sidewalk was a little table and chair sitting under a heater. I sat in it, ordered a glass of very nice champagne, a huge slab of terrine with baguette and watched the tower.
I felt very glamorous.
Showing posts with label Eiffel Tower. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eiffel Tower. Show all posts
Monday, October 24, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
PARIS - FLANEURING THE CITY
It's amazing what you run into just by walking around.
The Eiffel Tower was a big one. I wandered around the streets for two hours though before I came across it, all the way from Il de St Louis. Distances are a lot greater than they look on a map.
Along the way I tried to breathe in all the romantic and grand architecture, the river, the smell of bread and pastries, people people people, some green and ancient looking canons, a big gold dome roof, an open air photographic exhibition, car fumes, the sound of French people, the sound of American people, Vespers honking, tiny paved streets off big trafficy streets, more streets...
Where is that tower? It's been hours now. Have I missed it? Is it possible? I consult my 2m x 2m map. I'm standing right behind it.
It becomes enormous as I approach the legs. It is said that there are 2.5 million rivets holding this structure together. That makes me happy. What worries me a little is the hydraulic system used to get those lifts jammed with people up to the top. Two huge pumps at the bottom push that Willy Wonker glass elevator up to the summit on a serrated track so that would be quite suitable for slicing up a regular baguette.
Heights freak me out a little bit and I'm thinking it's pretty cold up there too. Bit of a queue. But more people = less expectation of danger. But then more people = more weight = strain on the serrated track. They've been sending people up there for years = lots of practice bringing the people back down. But older equipment = serrated track could be a bit worn. Everyone looks excited. Happy people = a place I'd like to be. But happy people can also = clueless people and I don't want to come crashing to the ground with a bunch of smiling idiots...
It was incredible. You can see the history of the city evaporating off the buildings, the big gold dome roof, the palaces, the monuments, the museums and the mazes of romantic apartment blocks packed in for warmth all the way to the cloudy horizon.
'I think we're moving.'
Who said that!?
'Yes. The tower is definitely swaying.'
I concentrate on feeling the sway, I think she's right! I look down at the queue of ants on the ground, spin out, punch the lady in the face and walk back towards the lift. All of a sudden I feel the cold.
Have I mentioned how cold it is? The plan was for 16 degree days but I think most of the time it's pushing twelve and that's if the sun comes out. This has actually become a debilitating problem for me as none of my jackets are made from any fibre that stops a person from freezing. They all look fabulous but I have to keep applying makeup to cover up the blue tinge around my mouth. I kick my stupid self at every cold and windy corner for not bringing my big wool jacket.
After spending this afternoon in the apartment near the heater, drinking coffee, eating chocolates and planning a night out completely dependent on how close venues are to warm metro stations, I came to the conclusion that I must buy a new jacket. I finished close to the whole box of chocolates (70% cocoa with mystery centres and gift wrapped with a big bow) and stopped feeling so bad about it all. C'est la vie!
Since the tower, I have flaneured through many streets, eaten at many cafes and stood underneath the works of artisans and legends dating back to the 14th century. There hasn't been a day that this city hasn't blown my mind. However, I'm not going to recite a shopping list of the people I've seen and the places I've been because that's not how I'm traveling. Instead, I will continue to come home at night, pour a glass of wine, sit near my little balcony and write about wherever me and my head have been wandering.
The Eiffel Tower was a big one. I wandered around the streets for two hours though before I came across it, all the way from Il de St Louis. Distances are a lot greater than they look on a map.
Along the way I tried to breathe in all the romantic and grand architecture, the river, the smell of bread and pastries, people people people, some green and ancient looking canons, a big gold dome roof, an open air photographic exhibition, car fumes, the sound of French people, the sound of American people, Vespers honking, tiny paved streets off big trafficy streets, more streets...
Where is that tower? It's been hours now. Have I missed it? Is it possible? I consult my 2m x 2m map. I'm standing right behind it.
It becomes enormous as I approach the legs. It is said that there are 2.5 million rivets holding this structure together. That makes me happy. What worries me a little is the hydraulic system used to get those lifts jammed with people up to the top. Two huge pumps at the bottom push that Willy Wonker glass elevator up to the summit on a serrated track so that would be quite suitable for slicing up a regular baguette.
Heights freak me out a little bit and I'm thinking it's pretty cold up there too. Bit of a queue. But more people = less expectation of danger. But then more people = more weight = strain on the serrated track. They've been sending people up there for years = lots of practice bringing the people back down. But older equipment = serrated track could be a bit worn. Everyone looks excited. Happy people = a place I'd like to be. But happy people can also = clueless people and I don't want to come crashing to the ground with a bunch of smiling idiots...
It was incredible. You can see the history of the city evaporating off the buildings, the big gold dome roof, the palaces, the monuments, the museums and the mazes of romantic apartment blocks packed in for warmth all the way to the cloudy horizon.
'I think we're moving.'
Who said that!?
'Yes. The tower is definitely swaying.'
I concentrate on feeling the sway, I think she's right! I look down at the queue of ants on the ground, spin out, punch the lady in the face and walk back towards the lift. All of a sudden I feel the cold.
Have I mentioned how cold it is? The plan was for 16 degree days but I think most of the time it's pushing twelve and that's if the sun comes out. This has actually become a debilitating problem for me as none of my jackets are made from any fibre that stops a person from freezing. They all look fabulous but I have to keep applying makeup to cover up the blue tinge around my mouth. I kick my stupid self at every cold and windy corner for not bringing my big wool jacket.
After spending this afternoon in the apartment near the heater, drinking coffee, eating chocolates and planning a night out completely dependent on how close venues are to warm metro stations, I came to the conclusion that I must buy a new jacket. I finished close to the whole box of chocolates (70% cocoa with mystery centres and gift wrapped with a big bow) and stopped feeling so bad about it all. C'est la vie!
Since the tower, I have flaneured through many streets, eaten at many cafes and stood underneath the works of artisans and legends dating back to the 14th century. There hasn't been a day that this city hasn't blown my mind. However, I'm not going to recite a shopping list of the people I've seen and the places I've been because that's not how I'm traveling. Instead, I will continue to come home at night, pour a glass of wine, sit near my little balcony and write about wherever me and my head have been wandering.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
PARIS - L'APPARTEMENT
The Paris apartment is on the Il de Saint Louis. It is right in the middle of Paris and I have it all to myself. I don't dream about anything this good.
I'm very slow to get out of the apartment in the mornings.
Its around five degrees outside, dark and the doona weighs about five kilos, so its not only hard, but cruel to ask my delicate toes to touch the terra-cotta floor. I push through but then can't get out of the shower because I've set the temperature to 38 degrees and it's toasty toasty! Also, I have about two items of clothing, so it takes me an age to put together an ensemble that's a little different from what I wore the day before.
I did buy a fabulous orange mini skirt in San Sebastian but I have no top to wear with it. I have this constantly on my mind.
Meanwhile, its 11am and I'm still in the apartment, just having a toasted baguette with rhubarb jam and a little cafe next to the little balcony with little potted plants.
Map, camera, euros, key, lip balm, key, sunglasses, key, key, key... et voila!
First time out into the streets of Paris!
So the plan is just to walk about without a plan because I'm too excited to make one. I will not look at the map. I will not hunt down the gothic, ancient, roman, romantic or otherwise. I will just walk.
Huge church. Very big. Map. Notre Dame. Patisserie, Seine, brasserie, beret, huge building, map. The Louvre. Seine, cheap street art, bar, brasserie, bike, bike, beret, chocolates, I heart Paris, cafe, cafe... (do people mind sitting that close together? And when you're done, how do you get out? Do you order at the table, or do you go in and ask? If you don't pronounce consonants at the ends of words, why does it matter what consonant goes there? I didn't think it would be this cold here and these shoes are completely wrong. These are the shoes that gave me the sore back in Barcelona! What was I thinking?)
Eiffel Tower.
It's a bit late in the day to start queuing up now for a peek, so I go to sus out the ticket thing with the lady at information.
'The queue at the North lift has 500 people in it. The queues at the West, East and South tower have eight people in them. Is the North lift the only one that goes to the summit?'
'Non. Sey all go to se top.'
I look at the 500 people at the North lift and then the eight people at all the other lifts.
'So what's the difference? Why are all the people queued up at that one for hours when they could just walk straight up the other one?'
'I don't know.'
'Do you think that's a bit weird that they would do that then? If there's no difference between the lifts? Why are they doing that?'
'Because sey are like sheep.'
I agreed with her and made a plan to come back the next morning before the sheep arrived.
The sun dropped and it immediately became freezing. It smelt cold. It smelt like snow. All I could think about were my ice cube toes and the apartment.. sitting on the comfy couch, in front of the toasty heater, eating fresh baguette with stinky cheese and a glass of Bordeaux vino and watching a movie and then rolling under the 5kg doona for the deepest of sleeps.
So I did that.
It was the best of plans because the next day the city swallowed me up.
I'm very slow to get out of the apartment in the mornings.
Its around five degrees outside, dark and the doona weighs about five kilos, so its not only hard, but cruel to ask my delicate toes to touch the terra-cotta floor. I push through but then can't get out of the shower because I've set the temperature to 38 degrees and it's toasty toasty! Also, I have about two items of clothing, so it takes me an age to put together an ensemble that's a little different from what I wore the day before.
I did buy a fabulous orange mini skirt in San Sebastian but I have no top to wear with it. I have this constantly on my mind.
Meanwhile, its 11am and I'm still in the apartment, just having a toasted baguette with rhubarb jam and a little cafe next to the little balcony with little potted plants.
Map, camera, euros, key, lip balm, key, sunglasses, key, key, key... et voila!
First time out into the streets of Paris!
So the plan is just to walk about without a plan because I'm too excited to make one. I will not look at the map. I will not hunt down the gothic, ancient, roman, romantic or otherwise. I will just walk.
Huge church. Very big. Map. Notre Dame. Patisserie, Seine, brasserie, beret, huge building, map. The Louvre. Seine, cheap street art, bar, brasserie, bike, bike, beret, chocolates, I heart Paris, cafe, cafe... (do people mind sitting that close together? And when you're done, how do you get out? Do you order at the table, or do you go in and ask? If you don't pronounce consonants at the ends of words, why does it matter what consonant goes there? I didn't think it would be this cold here and these shoes are completely wrong. These are the shoes that gave me the sore back in Barcelona! What was I thinking?)
Eiffel Tower.
It's a bit late in the day to start queuing up now for a peek, so I go to sus out the ticket thing with the lady at information.
'The queue at the North lift has 500 people in it. The queues at the West, East and South tower have eight people in them. Is the North lift the only one that goes to the summit?'
'Non. Sey all go to se top.'
I look at the 500 people at the North lift and then the eight people at all the other lifts.
'So what's the difference? Why are all the people queued up at that one for hours when they could just walk straight up the other one?'
'I don't know.'
'Do you think that's a bit weird that they would do that then? If there's no difference between the lifts? Why are they doing that?'
'Because sey are like sheep.'
I agreed with her and made a plan to come back the next morning before the sheep arrived.
The sun dropped and it immediately became freezing. It smelt cold. It smelt like snow. All I could think about were my ice cube toes and the apartment.. sitting on the comfy couch, in front of the toasty heater, eating fresh baguette with stinky cheese and a glass of Bordeaux vino and watching a movie and then rolling under the 5kg doona for the deepest of sleeps.
So I did that.
It was the best of plans because the next day the city swallowed me up.
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