After breakfast in the garden of our apartment we head to the shoe shop on Bvd St Michel where Brett had spied some good value shoes on day one. He wants to buy shoes! He tries three pairs. He buys the lot. I spy some boots. Sold. All four for less than the price of one pair at home. It's an outlet shop selling end of season shoes. Leather and lovely. Perfect. We just added about 10kg to our luggage right there. Oh dear, oops. Shame you can't wear two pairs of shoes at once!
Next, off to an art shop in the Marais area. There is a walnut ink powder I have been wanting for almost a decade (since doing art course in France back in 2006). It is only available from this art shop in Paris. But actually not so easily ... Went to one branch of the shop near our apartment on day one but ... They were sold out. Dammit. I could not believe it. Hence the mission to the other branch. Across town. Thank goodness, they have it. Purchased. Yay. I finally have my Broux de Noix.
We wander around the Marais area. It's a busy buzzing place with all sorts of shops, streets and people with flair. Sort of a Paris Ponsonby. Brett is loving all the lovely men's shops and all the lovely shoes. Love them but leave them, I say, there is no room for any more. Yes, me saying this to him!!!! He agrees and sticks to window shopping and yearning.
It is 'Design Week' in Paris with various shops, studios and design houses dotted about the city, showcasing their new designs. We stumble across a floor design studio in a magnificent building housing all sort of creatives. Internal courtyards, beautiful filtered light, and creative minds at work. Love it.
Looking up, down and all around, and marching through the Marais, I suddenly find myself taking a trip I do not wish to take. Through the air. Thoughts of broken knees fill my mind for a fleeting second (Heather, I hope your knee is on the mend!!) and I find myself smacking into the ancient stone wall surrounding the National Archives. It breaks my fall and stops me landing on my face in the middle of the street. But ouch, I have grazed my forearm rather nastily and it is bleeding. A nice Frenchman checks I am ok (Brett has marched off ahead in his usual style and has no idea what has happened!)
I am ok to carry on.
When I catch Brett up I realise we are now sporting matching wounds on our right forearms. Brett had somehow managed to spear his arm on the bathroom door handle at the apartment. And now this for me. Same spot on the forearms. What are the chances!?
We walk to the Pompadou Centre. This edgy inside-out building is out of kilter with surrounding architecture but by no means as outlandish as it was when it was built in 1977. I saw it soon after and it was quite something back in the day, no wonder it caused quite a stir.
We walk to the Pompadou Centre. This edgy inside-out building is out of kilter with surrounding architecture but by no means as outlandish as it was when it was built in 1977. I saw it soon after and it was quite something back in the day, no wonder it caused quite a stir.
Our time in Paris has come to an end.
We take the bus to Orly airport and pick up our car, a brand new Citroen C4. We hit the road, heading towards the Loire valley, Brett at the wheel. The lefts and rights get tangled up. Windscreen wipers furiously swipe dry glass instead of blinkers blinking when they should to alert our intentions, and the concentration as to which is the right side of the road to be on is almost visible. But it's not working well!
The GPS guides us out of town and we are on the motorway South. The BSD (back seat driver) system is also in operation, giving in the moment and much needed guidance to make sure we get along these roads in one piece! My teeth are often gritted but actually, he does okay! And my turn will come!
I have read about a town called Beaugency on the Loire, good for a night's stopover which is what we are after. We pop it in the GPS system, which we have nicknamed Connie (conduire = to drive). Connie leads us right to the door of a Relais (hotel) which looks just the ticket and, yay, they have a room for us. It is quaint and homely and perfect. Our host welcomes us. He speaks little English but my French is in second gear now and all is sorted in a jiffy. We walk into the square, have a local wine or two and then go across to L'Idee restaurant for a superb meal. The place is humming. Food quality is top notch. Friendliness of the locals gets a 10/10. The scenery gets 20/10.
Beaugency is a small medieval town with a fantastic vibe. Large enough to have substance and life yet small enough to ooze oodles of charm. An elegant and ancient place, we could not have wished for more on our first night post-Paris. Parfait!
Observation of the Day: As we leave, we are lamenting leaving Paris behind. It's a city that would take a lifetime to consume in its entirety, but devouring small regular chunks here and there feeds the soul nicely. I've been doing it since I was 15.
We take the bus to Orly airport and pick up our car, a brand new Citroen C4. We hit the road, heading towards the Loire valley, Brett at the wheel. The lefts and rights get tangled up. Windscreen wipers furiously swipe dry glass instead of blinkers blinking when they should to alert our intentions, and the concentration as to which is the right side of the road to be on is almost visible. But it's not working well!
The GPS guides us out of town and we are on the motorway South. The BSD (back seat driver) system is also in operation, giving in the moment and much needed guidance to make sure we get along these roads in one piece! My teeth are often gritted but actually, he does okay! And my turn will come!
I have read about a town called Beaugency on the Loire, good for a night's stopover which is what we are after. We pop it in the GPS system, which we have nicknamed Connie (conduire = to drive). Connie leads us right to the door of a Relais (hotel) which looks just the ticket and, yay, they have a room for us. It is quaint and homely and perfect. Our host welcomes us. He speaks little English but my French is in second gear now and all is sorted in a jiffy. We walk into the square, have a local wine or two and then go across to L'Idee restaurant for a superb meal. The place is humming. Food quality is top notch. Friendliness of the locals gets a 10/10. The scenery gets 20/10.
Beaugency is a small medieval town with a fantastic vibe. Large enough to have substance and life yet small enough to ooze oodles of charm. An elegant and ancient place, we could not have wished for more on our first night post-Paris. Parfait!
Observation of the Day: As we leave, we are lamenting leaving Paris behind. It's a city that would take a lifetime to consume in its entirety, but devouring small regular chunks here and there feeds the soul nicely. I've been doing it since I was 15.
No comments:
Post a Comment