Morning tea extraordinaire

9:30 a.m. E met me at the top of the stairs of the Metro exit. Three cheek kisses was becoming a familiar and comfortable experience. The traffic noise fell into the background as we caught up with what we had been doing since we had last been together at the end of the school term. It was fantastic to talk with a friend after such a harrowing day, the day before.

This morning tea with E's mother became one of the highlight's of my week-long stay in Paris.

This 93 year old woman was a beacon of light for me. Her stories of the past, of her family and her varied life experiences fascinated me. I could vividly picture in my mind as she recounted and described, in french, her rich patchwork. I was overwhelmed with respect and love for this beautiful woman.

The morning tea was quite formal. The coffee table was laid out with artistic and elegant flair.

 I could have explored the photos and memorabilia for hours. I prompted E with sincere questions and delighted in visiting the past with her interesting responses.

The quaint apartment had a little balcony with beautiful potted trees. If you stood at the end of the balcony and leaned out a fraction, you could see the Eiffel Tower.

Unfortunately, E's mother had an appointment. The hour and a half was far too short. But a most enriching experience.

Cheap chic

Another selfie in the mirror before I exited into the wilderness of Paris. By now, I couldn't help but liken all my experiences to a kind of dangerous adventure in the jungle. I kept feeling like a weak member of the herd. I was easy prey for the lean and hungry. Beggars and thieves litter the footpaths, eager for a piece of the tourist pie.

I wasn't too pleased with the arrangement of my hair today, but I took the photo nonetheless.

Carpe Diem. The blog is called Meet Me In France. I would like to share with you the Eiffel Tower, a distant shape. This is the view from outside the hotel door. My hotel, called Hotel Cactus, is in the Montparnasse district. The Metro was a 2 minute walk away. 

I was armed with a scrap of paper today. This piece of paper had the addresses of various thrift shops. I was on a mission to discover the delights of parisian cheap chic.

The roar of the train, its ear shattering squeals, the gush of wind, the door alarm honking, the whoosh of the door opening, the sound of beggars as they openly solicit for money to a carriage load of people, all provide a sensory sensation.

What an amazing sight overlooking the Seine.

Last night Mel had taught me how to create a panoramic view with my i phone.

These carousels are so picturesque. They punctuate every public square. Such attention to detail.

Th

 What simply sumptuous buildings.

 Crossing the road continues to be a challenge for me.

Aha. I found my first thrift shop. Yes, it had that pokey, claustrophobic feel to it. The racks and racks of assorted colours and textures were amazing. Hmmm. The prices weren't all that cheap. Yep. I felt quite at home in this shop.

 This shop was awesome. Lots and lots of treasures. What a crazy random, messy window display!

 This delightful shop wasn't open yet. It opened at 2:00 pm .

It was approaching 12 noon and my tummy told me to investigate this patisserie. I chose a scrumdiddlyumptious salmon and spinach tarte.

The shops close for two hours at lunch time. This squashed my hopes of an impromptu visit.

  So I took the opportunity for some window shopping. I LOVE the colours here.

It was about now that Paris started to gobble me up. There are no more photos. I was beginning to fatigue. The past few days were catching up on me. I wasn't sure where to find a toilet. So I went to  a McDonalds, thinking that was the easy option. The queue was half an hour long. The condition of the loos wasn't too good.

I found a great district for cruising the shops and I did a lot of walking and looking. I also spent quite some hours trying on various items and I bought a fair amount of stuff. 

Fatigue started to kick in and I knew it was time to head for home, but I had perspired so much over the last few days, that it became imperative to buy some jeans. 

This turned into a ridiculous situation. I found an affordable shop in which to purchase a pair of second hand jeans, but they didn't have any changing rooms. I was forced to slink into a corner at the back of the shop, put on my raincoat and try and inconspicuously manoeuvre myself to avoid lack of dignity. There was no air conditioning in the shop and after trying on a number of pairs, I found two that were satisfactory. However, I lost my dignity when I heard two girls snigger at me and make rude comments at that "weird lady" in the corner trying on trousers.

Loaded with bags of clothes , I was accosted by a group of youngsters who tried me on for a scam. I ignored them. But in the next half hour I was approached by another group of teenage boys who tried to distract me with conversation in order to make a profitable kill.

I made it back to my hotel room without incident, but the audacious city scammers unnerved me. Paris had certainly made a meal of me today. 

Culture shock was starting to hit. 

Viki the Conqueror

Mel gave me instructions via text on how to  negotiate the Metro.

With my heart in my mouth I set out to conquer the beast. The Parisian statues of lions and strong men were representative of my determination in this situation. I only made one minor boo boo at the beginning. So I was delighted to meet Mel on the Metro platform after disembarking.

His boyish gait and youthful good looks were charming.

We relaxed into a synchronised strut as we walked towards his apartment. The busy 11th arrondissement district had a festive air as diners sat and socialised outside a ridiculous assortment of cafes.

Mel's apartment was only a few minutes from the Metro. 

There was no shortage of banter as we covered all sorts of topics as the evening progressed. Mel can speak english quite well, but most of the conversation was in french. Very good authentic learning, I suggest.

I explained to Mel about my disaster with the i phone battery running flat after only a few hours of usage since the start of the day. He politely took the i phone from my hand, confidently made a few changes to the settings, and before you could say Jack Robinson, he had created a very efficient i phone that can last for an entire day and evening. 

I also told Mel how I didn't understand the Metro system. He patiently explained the simple system to me and I instantly realised that all I needed was someone to explain it to me.

The simple chicken dinner was absolutely delicious. The mustard sauce on top of the rice was the piéce de résistance.

 No meal is complete unless we eat cheese.

The view from his apartment window was from quite a lofty height.

I love the way the open window frames such a pretty vista.

Apartment space in Paris is precious. Mel's apartment was very comfy and utilised every inch of space. I loved his awesome bean bag. What a coincidence that I had a couple of green bean bags. Bean bag in french is le poire, meaning pear.

We went halves in these delicious desert treats.

Mel escorted me back to the Metro. I was quite surprised that there were a large number of people out and about. I felt as though I had conquered the Metro. How silly of me to feel so ill at ease with a system that is useful and easy to use.

Definitely Dumb Decisions

Monday morning. My first exciting day in Paris. I was pleased with the arrangement I had haphazardly arrived at with my hair. I decided I would make an effort with my hair, as the jeans and T shirt uniform was becoming monotonous. I paused to take a photo of myself in the mirror. 

Definitely a dumb decision.

The bikeabouttour started at 10:00 a.m. The rendez-vous point was to be in front of the Notre Dame …. in front of the large statue of a man on a horse. Easy!

My fear of the Metro and desire to lose weight made me think that walking the 45 minute walk to the Notre Dame was a good idea. What a great way to experience Paris …. on foot. I enjoyed taking in the sights and making mental notes of shops to return to when I had more time.

I glanced at my watch at half past nine. "OK." I better get my skates on. But from here it started going wrong.I didn't take into account that I was heading deeper and deeper into central Paris where the traffic had an arrogant disregard for pedestrians. Pausing to refer to my i phone map of Paris cost me precious minutes. Finding myself confronted with an assortment of 6 possible roads to take at every intersection cost me precious minutes.

Before I knew it I had 5 minutes before the tour departed. I could see the Notre Dame towering close by. I was sure I could make it. 

Nope. The ancient town clock struck ten with an authoritative tone. I couldn't for the life of me see the statue of the man on a horse. I couldn't see the tour group anywhere! Panic! The serene garden MUST HAVE BEEN THE BACK of the church.

Running as fast as my little legs could carry me, it took me a few minutes to run to the other side of the church. 

Thank goodness I saw the backs of a group of people following a young guy with a bike that had the tour name on it.

By the time I had caught up with them, I was drenched in perspiration. My clothes were sopping wet.

The young englishman was charming, entertaining, knowledgeable and very friendly in a delightfully casual way. I think you get the picture that he was pretty cool in my books. The fact that he spoke english in a cultured, clipped english accent helped things along.

We used the bike lanes and paused frequently for interesting information about Paris.

I took a photo of the plaque respectfully placed at the entrance of every school in Paris where jewish children were taken by the Nazis. At this Parisian school more than 500 children were taken and killed.

 I began merrily snapping at every opportunity. My first impressions of Paris were of amazingly grandiose and beautiful buildings.

 The guide told us interesting stories about the people that lived in and used these buildings.

This is Victor Hugo's house. He wrote Les Miserables amongst other things. The reason his books were so long is because he was paid per word.

The beggars hanging around: lying on the footpath, or standing wailing with their hands outstretched was a bit disconcerting.

The picture below is a little pac man. There was a graffiti artist who bombed Paris and subsequently other major world cities with tile art. All of Paris has these quirky little tile pictures on the corner of many, many streets. It certainly looks better than scrawling obscure initials.

This is me in the group of cyclists as we disembarked our bikes for a little while.

This picture encompasses the Bateau Mouches, the Notre Dame and the Seine River. Paris has 2 little islands in the middle of the Seine. There is the left side of the river and the right side of the river.

  I thought that the tour was for three hours. It turned out to be four. Throughout the entire 4 hours we looped, circled, crossed the river multitudes of times until my geographical orientation was completed obliterated. I lost my sensation of what was North, South, East and West. 

We paused in the Latin Quarter to get a bite to eat. I chose to eat a hot potato salad. I was a bit miffed when 100g cost $8!!! Note to self: food in Paris is just as expensive as I had been forewarned. 

All the while I was guarding my i phone and money as thieves are rampant. I knew I was a sitting duck as everything about me screamed,"tourist!"

I snapped a picture of everything. I was wide-eyed all the time. The sights, sounds and incredible cultural differences made a huge impression on my senses. Riding on the bike allowed us to cover a fair bit of ground in a seated position.

I enjoyed the story of the padlocks being attached to the bridge and the key thrown into the Seine as a declaration of loving one's partner forever. Apparently it is a well-known phenomenon in Paris. (News to me.)

When I paused for lunch, I realised that I only had a little bit of life left in the battery. So I stopped taking so many pictures.

The tour finished at half past 2. I knew that i needed to head home to charge up my cell phone, disappointed that i wasn't able to spend more time in the centre of town. 

Fear of the Metro meant that I thought it would be a good calorie-burning exercise to walk back home ….. despite the fact that I was exhausted from the day's physical events.

My sense of direction started to play tricks with me and it took me an hour to find the road that would lead me back to the hotel. 

3:30 p.m. My i phone battery died. Panic started to well from deep inside. I knew that if I was to  pull out the large fold-out map of Paris, it would be an advertisement to all thieves that I was lost and vulnerable. I wandered the streets, hoping for the best, but the situation worsened at each intersection. Intersections are arranged in complicated star patterns where a multitude of roads meet in a random layout.

It was hot. I perspired profusely. In fact, my clothes were wet from fear-induced perspiration. I had no way to ring anybody for help. I decided that i needed to conquer my fear of the Metro so that I could get back to the Hotel. I entered the underground warren to be confronted by a swarm of busy people with blank faces. The signage of directions with destinations, directions, line numbers and line colours along with the choice of connections threw me into a spin. I tried to make sense of it all, but my brain went into SHUTDOWN. I knew that walking home was my only option.

After asking a few people for directions I made my way home on very wary feet. I metaphorically kicked myself, thinking of how stupid I had been in all of my decision making. I couldn't even recognise any of the landmarks that were part of my morning journey. By the time I had reached the sanctuary of my tiny hotel room at 5:30 p.m. I was deeply grateful. 

I had an hour to shower and gather my wits as I had arranged to have dinner with a young french man that lived in Paris. Kev and I had played kiwi host to him for a couple of weeks in Auckland a few years ago.

In my momentary stillness, I had time to contemplate the day's events, I realised that the day was definitely a series of dumb decisions. But it wasn't over yet!

LUCKY!!!!!!

Sitting on my suitcase outside the wrought-iron gates of my apartment, I mentally ticked off the list of jobs that I needed to achieve before my departure. I was feeling apprehensive as the exciting chapter of my adventures in France was about to turn the page:

The gas was turned off, the taps had been triple checked, the doors were locked, I remembered to pack my camera, my passport, etc.

It was 5:00 p.m. sharp as I was picked up by a very kind english teacher at my school, J. He was travelling to Paris the next day with his wife and daughter to spend time with his family that lived there. I was soooooo lucky to travel with them in the car. The journey is VERY expensive by train. However, I was very privileged to be the benefactor of their warm generosity, charm and wonderful hospitality.

I was delighted to meet C, J and B's young adult daughter. Her sense of humour, warm personality and endearing bubbly personality ensured that we had a very merry, shared dinner. 

J had a transport card that he very kindly allowed me to use for his visit to Paris. As it turned out, it was a brilliant Godsend. I was able to have limitless travel on the Paris metro. All it required was a small photo of myself. This proved to be more difficult than you can imagine. We tried all sorts of clever ways to take a photo of me and print it. Trouble with the computer and other technical devices meant that J toiled patiently for about an hour to FINALLY produce the finished masterpiece. The quick snap taken of my face and shoulders, became a tortured, grossly widened piece of photographic manipulation. We all rolled on the floor in fits of laughter at the photo of me that had a very close resemblance of Miss Piggy wearing Viki's spectacles. It transpired to be a wonderful asset. I used this pass for the entire six days with unlimited use of the Paris Metro. It only cost about 40 dollars. I blessed it every time I used it. All I had to do was to wave it magically over the sensor in order to allow me to pass into the underworld. Lucky!!!! I was extremely grateful for C's confidence and swift execution of loading the card for me when we first landed in Paris. For some bizarre twist of abnormality, the photo loaded onto this blog upside down. Perfect. That means you cannot examine closely the repugnant image of moi.

The dinner was delicious. Spagetti bolognese. My contribution was an apple crumble. An attempt to replicate a favourite NZ dessert. 

The previous day I had spent a long time in the supermarket looking for all the specific ingredients to give it the most detailed and accurate resemblance to the way I cook it back home. After about an hour of repeatedly searching through the aisles, I decided to settle for a disappointingly easy option. I bought a pre-prepared packet of topping. 

We managed to find room in our bellies for this filling desert. The hosts made positive noises as to how delicious the desert was. I was slightly embarrassed that I had stooped to preparing it the easy way. 

I took a photo of the two aperitif wines. I will definitely buy these two bottles at the local liquor store. They were a perfect start to the meal.

The muscat had a light, sweet and wine-like quality.

I had an incredibly comfortable sleep in their spare room. We rose quite early and had a wonderful breakfast together. There wasn't too much fuss at all, as the car was loaded. The early morning light was filtered and beautiful for  the to and fro movements as the car was prepared for the long journey ahead. 

I was sooooooo lucky to sit in the back of the car and watch the scenery from a comfortable and stress-free vantage.

C sat in the back as well.

The journey to Paris began at about 8:00 a.m. and finished at about 4:30 p.m.

The first hour was BEAUTIFUL. The local roads, mountains and villages were as pretty as a postcard. We all laughed and conversed with excitement. 

Once the scenery settled into main autoroute highway, we all settled into our own peaceful thoughts. I took the opportunity to spend a wonderful hour and a half listening to Joseph's Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat on my i phone. I realised after that, that I needed to conserve the battery. So no more listening to music.

The hours passed by very pleasantly and comfortably as J drove with skill. The car handled the journey with ease.

B had packed a fantastic french picnic lunch; we coped with turkish style toilets en route; we were constantly paying tariffs for road usage via toll booths; and the changing countryside and weather ensured that we were constantly entertained.

As we approached Paris, the mood in the car began to change gears. We hit metropolis with a jolt; lane changing, traffic lights and manoeuvring through busy streets. Next thing I knew, J swooped onto a footpath, we quickly cheek kissed farewells and C and I were bustling towards the Metro.

C lived in Paris and knew the ropes. I metaphorically clung close to her as I was launched like a catapult into the bustle of the city.

 The first thing that hit me was the NOISE!!!! Amazing!!!!

We flung ourselves onto two connecting Metros. The noises were so totally foreign and bewildering, I began to shake. C sensed my nerves and asked if I was all right. I was overwhelmed with fear in a very short period of time since exiting the car. I responded with a nod of the head, my petrified eyes brimming with emotion.

With my small suitcase on wheels, we negotiated the streets to find my hotel. I was sooooooooo lucky that C lived 7 minutes from my hotel. This was a miraculous coincidence. C escorted me to my two star room. We both stood in silence as we surveyed the postage stamp sized room.

I assured her that I was fine now and that it was now safe for me to become independent. 

After her departure I snapped the room to record for posterity my residence. I also knew that you would be interested to see my temporary Parisian paradise. After all, I have invited you to MEET ME IN FRANCE.

Hmmmm. 6 nights in this little haven of loveliness. 

Interesting. I was very, very lucky to have found a very affordable accommodation that would allow me to stay so long in Paris.

I had booked a bike tour of Paris the next day. It began at 10:00 a.m.

I was petrified to tackle the Metro on my own. The thought of trying to figure it out and arrive at the designated rendez-vous in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral filled me with terror. I decided I would do a dummy run of the route that I should follow the next day. This would ensure that I would arrive early, safe and relaxed. 

The next two weeks became an oscillating curve of good idea/bad idea.

The dummy run to the Notre Dame turned a good idea into a bad idea.

I congratulated myself for calculating an easy route. I was very happy to be doing a walk-especially after such a long car trip. The dark, overhanging clouds were a non-existent backdrop to my buoyant mood. The thunder and lightening were an exciting dimension to this wonderful promenade.

It was when the heavens opened and I became soaked to the skin in a matter of minutes that my happy disposition turned into me becoming bedraggled kiwi idiot tourist. I arrived back at the hotel sodden and thoroughly annoyed with myself for not taking my umbrella and for not heeding the warning signs about the weather.

This was a very interesting introduction to gay Paree. I wonder how my luck was going to hold out?????