Good Times at Hard Rock

Shopping, AGAIN!

The Portobello Road

Kris has decided that she needs more retail therapy. John, admittedly, shows “great” interest but eventually is convinced to forgo Harrods and instead head to the Portobello Road.

So, tube maps in hand, and GPS on standby, it is off to the Portobello Road to hunt the shops.

Did we say that Kris was the shopper? Hang on, who is this that is buying left right and centre?????? Different gender I believe.

We both had a great time, wandering the full 
 
 
length of Portobello, stopping for a coffee and pain au chocolat at a wee café, diving onto the antique shops, especially the sporting antique shop with its old cricket bats, cane fly rods, Wheatly Fly boxes and , believe it or not, two wooden aeroplane propellers!!

One chap tried to sell John a scarf but somehow, on him, it didn’t look quite as sexy as it did on the blokes in Paris; something to do with the chins!

John spies a pair of Doc Marten boots in a lovely cherry red. The first shop however doesn’t have a matching pair and we are not going to take a punt, even with a bigger discount, on the chance that will eventually match up in colour. So it is across the road we go and there you are, a lovely pair, right size at the same price.

We are on a roll now so it is back to the scarf ship to buy a real Scottish merino and cashmere scarf to wear with his winter jacket. Pity we are going into summer. John, of course, immediately twirls the scarf around the neck, just like they do in Paris and off he goes.

NZ War Memorial, Hyde Park Cnr

Back into town on a mission. John needs a Hard Rock Café tee shirt from London. Once again, thanks to Google maps we make it to the shop after a few detours, one of which ends us up at the New Zealand war memorial at Hyde Park Corner.

Tee shirt is bought and we decide to have a meal there as well. Last Hard Rock experience for John was in Bangalore where for $20, you got a burger, fries, two beers and a tee shirt. In London, the tee shirt was $50 on its own!!

Anyway, we spent a significant time waiting for a table while we had a drink and people watched on an outside table. A great experience except for the occasional waft of sewer smell.

We were looked after really well and Hard Rock is hard to beat. Great food, amazing rock memorabilia, great staff, great music and a really fun vibe even for those turning 60 in two days!!

We are full as bulls so decide to walk back across Hyde Park along the banks of the Serpentine to our hotel. The walk was packed, crowded, with people everywhere, and we were the only Caucasians. It seems that every Asian in the town was out promenading with their families. Quite a cool buzz and a lovely walk in the evening warmth.

Back to the hotel, quick freshen up and down to the Mitre for a pint to watch the Abs v Namibia game. The pub wasn’t really into the rugby apart from one very loud Japanese chap in an All Black shirt who kept trying to start an All Black All Black chant. Didn’t go down all that well with the locals.

Another scratchy game but another win. Hope the boys can get on track for the business end of the tournament.

Back to the hotel, alarms set. Early start tomorrow. We are heading home.

Car or driver???
 

Cricket and a Show

Plan for the day is to do Lord’s. We have looked at the map and found it is a relatively easy walk down the Edgewater Road to St John’s Wood so off we go. Amazing how it is further than the map looks, but still we made good time. The tours went on the hour so of course we arrive at ten past and have to spend the next 50 minutes hanging about. Eventually we get on a tour with another 30 or so bods. Unfortunately the Morgan Media Centre had closed for a three month refurbishment two days earlier so that was out of the tour. Despite this we spent an amazing 2 hours seeing the rest of the ground, including the Long Room, the Committee Room and both sets of players changing rooms. John has seen a few international cricket changing rooms in his time but Lord’s takes the cake. The change rooms are just basic and barren; no shower no loo, no individual seats. Grounds in deepest darkest Bangladesh were better equipped!!!! But this is Lord’s and tradition rules.

It was a great tour as it is possibly the only way we will ever get to Lords with the way the cricket doctoring is going. So be it.

The "Visitor's" Dressing room

We decide to take the tube back into town; you can’t go to London and not see some of the sights even though we have seen them all before. Emerging from the Tube to see the Houses of Parliament across the road is still pretty special. We cross the Thames and are looking at our bearings on a large display map and working out a plan when there is a huge “BANG” and a cry from the other side of the map sign. Being good Kiwis we duck around the corner to see a distraught young man lying on the ground semi-conscious and moaning. Now we are well equipped for such a situation and resolve by asking if he is all right. To make matters worse he is French and so we start to check him out in strangled Franglais. We find out he doesn’t have any friends and that somehow he ran into the map board.  The mechanism of injury is a little hard to fathom and he seems to get better pretty quickly so a high five and we are away. Then we see the cameras!!!!! It was a stunt by a French group filming around the Rugby World Cup!! Now it made sense. We get chased by the producer to get us to sign release forms so somewhere that night on French TV/ Internet were two Kiwi docs doing the good Samaritan thing. True kiwis!

Our next stop is to pick up the theatre tickets for the show we are going to that night. John has had a long relationship with The Commitments and it just so happened that a musical based on the movie was playing on the West End. So we had booked tickets on the interweb but decided to save time by picking them up during the day. This also allowed us to get our bearings so we wouldn’t be running around like headless chooks trying to find the theatre come show time. Thank heavens for Google maps and 3G. We followed the dotted blue line of Kris’ phone, once we worked out which way was up, and eventually found our theatre with tickets at the ready.

After a stop to rehydrate with a pint and to watch a bit of the Scotland-Japan game it was back to the Hotel to freshen up.

Then back on the Tube to Shaftsbury Ave with a plan for dinner before the show. By this time we are getting a little time pressured so we settle for a steak from a large chain restaurant and blow 80 odd pound on some average steaks. Still, they fed us quickly. At the theatre we are told we are in luck as they are not opening the Gods (where our seats were to be) and that we will have better seats in the Circle. The seats were good and the music was great but the actual show was a little disappointing. But at the end we were all on our feet clapping and singing just like a gig.

After a quick walk through China town it was time to rest Kris’ very sore feet so back to the hotel and sleep.

Divorce

Divorce!!

After three weeks living in each other’s pockets, it is time for a change. Kris wants to go shopping and John wants to do the British Museum. There is nothing else for it. We must part!!!

So, bidding a found adieu, we go our separate ways.

Kris went shopping and bought a dress. (that is her story, finish!)

John got drenched. The heavens opened while he was walking to the Museum after expertly managing The Tube trip. He also found that his brand new super doper jacket leaked in one arm. His jeans were wet, his shoes were full of water and he “just” missed the road to the British Museum. It was an easy day to get his 10,000 steps in as he did a fair bit of walking before he found the Museum. The street signage was to blame according to him, although he did manage to find a wee coffee establishment that he swears makes the best coffee in London.

On arriving at the museum, he finally found out he could put his bag into storage (one pound fifty please) although the information desk did not know what a bag drop was. “Oh, do you mean the Cloak Room?” NO, I don’t have a bloody cloak. Still, once divested of his wet bag next stop was the book shop. Over Christmas last, John had listened to a really neat podcast from the British Museum. “A History of the World in one hundred objects from the British Museum” or something like that. So, on buying the book, he was on a mission to see how many of the 100 items he could do in one day. He didn’t do too badly but wasn’t helped by the Museum not doing anything to point out the exhibits that were in the book/ podcast.

Off course the Rosetta stone was there, as were the Elgin marbles. John had a cool day wandering around the museum, poking his nose in here and there, looking for the strange and exotic. By the end of the day he felt he had given it a good nudge so back to the hotel in a crowded hot dank Tube to catch up with his wife. Highlights were the clock room and some of the ancient British exhibits.

Once dried out (it rained again on the way home) we walked the street looking for a meal place. Found a wee wine bar that served OK food but paid exorbitantly for possibly the worst wines we had on the whole trip. Seven pounds 50 each for a very average Pinot and Chard.

Oh well, it is London.

 

London

Off to Londinium

We have said our goodbyes to Margaret last night as she is off to work at 0700.  We breakfast and have our final chat with Michael who kindly drives us to the station to catch our train to London.

Boarding the train we find that the booking system is not working so we source alternate seating in the carriage. But, that is the KIWI way and not the way of the Pomgolians. It was fascinating to sit back and listen to the consternation that ensured when travellers boarding the train found others sitting in the seat which they had booked. No explanations about how the booking system had failed could shift them. “I booked that’s eat and that is the seat I want to sit in” Thankfully no-one tried to oust us from our purloined seats. World War Three would have been on the cards.

We change trains in Taunton and fast train it to London Paddington. The weather turns to crap and rain settles in. Thankfully it has dried up a bit by the time we reach our destination. Following our Google directions we make it to our hotel which is only a 10 minute walk from the station. Looks clean and tidy but it seems we have to pay up front before we can access our room. The lass behind the counter “helps” out by reaching over and hitting the button to pay in Kiwi not pounds sterling. Boom the transaction has gone through; and we are $90+ worse off. We have been using our One Smart card for these sort of transaction and had firmed up a good exchange rate which had since dropped. So by paying with Kiwi, we were significantly worse off. To make matters worse, Kris did not have sufficient Kiwi dollars to pay so OneSmart appropriately took the funds from other currencies on the card incurring further losses in exchange rates and conversion fees. Do you think the young lass understood what she had just done???  Nope. She just couldn’t see that what she had done was wrong. Steam was seen coming out of two sets of ears. They could reverse the transaction but that would take 2-3 days for the funds to reappear in our account. Grump.

Next we find that we have a basement room, below street level. The saving grace is that the room is huge and, as we really don’t intend to spend too much time in the room, we think it will work out.

First step is to go out for a recce walk to find our nearest Tube station where we expertly purchase our Oyster cards for London transport.  There is a max limit to pay per day so once you have cracked up three trips you travel for free.

We have also done a recce on the local food outlets and have found a wee Malaysian on Craven Road that the bill. We must have picked right as it is chock full of local Malays dining. The food was very yummy and very cheap by London standards. The bill was possible low as they didn’t serve alcohol and John had to make to with COKE!!

Anyway, we are in London so let’ see what we can get up to….

Argentina

Abs v Argentina

So we were tired little teddy bears on Sunday morning but everyone eventually emerged. It was a lovely day and after a good brekkie it was time for a walk. Margaret and Michael’s house is on a hill above Torquay but within 10 minutes we were walking through trees and forest to a quaint thatched roofed village; quite amazing. From there we talked and walked our way down to the seaside; the English Riviera all the signs said. The day was suitably warm and the seas suitably calm. Torquay does look like the Orewa of Pomgolia with plenty of retirees and seaside hotels for the “holiday at the beach”.

We even managed a totally acceptable coffee in the grounds of the original manor while Emma played spot the squirrel. Vermin we keep telling her but they are still rather cute.

Plan for the afternoon is to borrow Michael’s car (a diesel Peugeot 308 just like we had in France). Michael had arranged insurance on the car for us and so it was off to Exeter with Emma in tow. First stop is a local supermarket for a “flat shop” like we have done when previously with the loin fruit in Dunedin. I must say the English supermarkets are a big come down after the great French stores. The prices however aren’t too bad, especially with the fresh stuff, eggs etc. The general cost of living here is definitely up on NZ but basic food stuffs seem to be OK. So loaded up with flat essentials it is off to Exeter and Em’s new flat where we meet her “land lady”, Jennifer. Jennifer is only 28 but owns a couple of houses. Seems to be a common thread over here as, although the house prices are rather large, the interest rate are low enough to allow and w which allows keen ones to get on the market early.

After acquaintances have been made it is off to a local student pub to watch the ABs take on Argentina in their first World Cup game. It seems the band got a little boisterous the night before and ripped the data projector off the ceiling so it is now propped up on a couple of beer crates with books for balance. Despite the slightly off kilter screen, the picture is more than adequate and we settle into the game. Lump in the throat for the haka and we hope the boys do well. Pity about the game; lots of lost opportunities and simple errors. Despite this the boys come away with a solid win and we are on the way to the knockout rounds.

After the game we play the dutiful parents and take Emma and Jennifer out for dinner. The first two places that Jennifer suggests are either closed or booked out but we find a “Jamie Oliver” franchised Italian in the High Street which fits the purpose well.

From what we can see it looks like Emma has fallen on her feet; has the law papers she needs and a nice flat with the chance of making good friends with Jennifer.

So with somewhat heavy hearts we say goodbye to Emma. She is only away for four months or so and she has spent the last five years in Dunedin away from us. It is just that despite modern travel and communications she is still on the other side of the world which can be a long long way away. But despite remaining “Mum and Dad” we need to let her do her thing. She has really shown some incredible strength of character in her travelling solo across Europe and we know she has inner strengths that will see her right. Kris will stop crying soon I promise.

So back to Torquay and our last night with Michael and Margaret. Just like last year, it has been so easy to just slip back into our 35 year friendship. Good friends are like that

Ireland

Ireland, Ireland, forever standing tall!!

We wake to a lovely warm south west England day. Michael had the great idea of us joining him and his family in going to the Ireland v Canada at Cardiff for the Rugby World Cup.

So after breakfast it is into the car and off we go taking the scenic route through Teignmouth. We head in to Exeter to pick up Emma from her new flat. The streets look very much like the terraced housing student digs in Dunedin. It seems she has fallen on her feet after having a less than organised last few weeks. She has the law courses she wanted to do (after dropping the English papers) and has found a flat for her semester only 20 minutes away from the University.

So after a mandatory toilet stop, we are in the car and barrelling along the motorway at 120kph. The talk flows easily about life and loves but the traffic ceases to flow once we hit the Severn Bridge. It is then nose to tail crawl for an hour as we edge our way to Cardiff. Emerging from a tunnel, the traffic suddenly and inexplicably, frees up and we are off.

After a brief tiki of the local area when Michael chose to ignore Doris, we park the car in the area around the flat that Sinead owns from her university days.

With Emma now controlling direction from Google maps we walk through the student area of Cardiff and then after walk around a  lovely park beside Cardiff Castle we arrive at the ground. Within a short time, and the purchase of beer and hotdogs, we enter the stadium. It is VAST!! The seats climb upwards to the roof which is closed for the game. The noise is held within the stadium by the roof and really builds an atmosphere. 68,000 souls, nearly all cheering for Ireland. The game goes as expected with a relatively easy win for the Irish. The ABs had better watch out for the Irish. They are coached by a Kiwi and you can see the different game lines he is using; very different from what you would normally expect from a northern hemisphere team. Even the Mexican wave looks good inside the stadium; no rubbish is thrown.

After the game we meet up with Margaret, Jennifer Sinead and Paul who were sitting on the opposite side of the stadium to us. Everyone is happy and cheerful about the win. In need of refreshment we try a few pubs until we find a nice place to have a cleansing Guinness and a little more talk.

It was getting dark as we finally get back to the car and headed home. It was a couple of hours to get back home on the motorway. Michael did advise us that his night vision was terrible after having refractive surgery, and all this while doing 140 kph!!!

Home to another lovely meal from Margaret and to bed just after midnight.

And the Japanese beat the Bolks!!!

Angleterre

Off to Angleterre

Our last morning in Paris for this trip and we are up and about getting things packed in good time.

It’s Deb Mead’s birthday so we make the obligatory trans-continental phone call. The last one was from the cockpit of our yacht on the Med, this one just from our Paris hotel room.

Our Paris hotel view

Great shop across the road for our baguettes

All done and dusted we check out, after paying the local hotel tax! Another 13 Euros. We are planning well so we purchase our filled baguettes from the Tratoire across the street.

Our cab driver is very quiet for the first half of the trip until the traffic turns mad and we start zooming up the Bus lanes. John even starts laughing at his abusive comments so we continue a witty repartee in Franglaise. He drops us off in the road leading up to Gare du Nord as the traffic came to a standstill. Nice guy, he could have kept us in the car while the meter ran on, but he was happy to stop the meter and let us out.

We find our way through the station without too much hassle and are even allowed out of France and into the UK while still in the station.

We settle into our Eurostar seats and seem to have the opposite seats free until the train is about to leave and a very “interesting” American couple arrive. They take no notice if us what so ever with the wife, of Chinese origin, making a seemingly endless list of requests from her poor husband. They even have the temerity to eat stinky cheese.

We whisk through the French countryside with the train screaming past the cars on the Motorway and they are doing 130kph so we must be going real fast.

The Chunnel bit takes only 20 minutes and we are in England.

We get through St Pancras with no probes, even buying a couple of bottles of wine from Marks and Sparks to bring to Torquay. Must admit it is much easier to buy things when they speak the same language!

The queue for the taxis is rather long and slow but we are entertained by a lovely elderly English lady returning from Switzerland who, going against all decorum, strikes up a conversation!! Talking to someone in the queue is unheard of in England but they must be slowly warming.

Our cabby is rather taciturn and the traffic simply is not moving. Eventually we warm him up and despite his being a Chelsea supporter, we have a good talk all the way to Paddington.

We emerge into chaos. People people people everywhere, all almost running in all different directions, vast, chaotic, and poor Kris gets overwhelmed. She even has to pay 30 p to have a p. Bloody poms! 


Believe it or not, our tickets are popped out of a machine after we put in our details. At least the IT works! But we get a whole heap of tickets and they are quite confusing.

The platform for our train is not put on the board until 10 minutes before departure. There is a mad rush for the turnstile and thankfully our tickets work and we reach our seats in the “quiet” carriage.

We blast through the beautiful English countryside in the fading light. The fields are very reminiscent to New Zealand fields until a castle pops into view!

We change trains at Newton Abbott and a slow train takes into Torquay. Poor Michael is standing looking lost and bewildered as he missed seeing us getting off the train.

A warm welcome greets us at Huxtable Hill and old friendships are very easily rekindled. Lovely to see Michael and Margaret again. A friendship built over 30 years.

Paris au revoir

A brighter day dawned although still cool and a little damp. Breakfast again in the bowels of the hotel.

First stop of the day is the Picasso Museum. On past trips we had tried to see a selection of the great man’s works but in general we have only found one or two of his paintings in the MOMA etc.

The Picasso museum in Paris is a very different kettle of fish. It would appear that when Picasso died, and then again, when his last wife died, the French government stung the family for huge death duties. Now you could either pay in cash or in kind. Thankfully the family paid in kind and now the museum has been donated, under the French government, with the largest collection of Picasso paintings, from a pencil drawn torso at age 12 through to his collage works, his pink period, his blue period, his cubism. Tres magnifique!!

Again, just like the Monet, just like Da Vinci, the ghost in the machine comes out again.

We head for the exit for a toilet stop and a bag pick up when John spies a further level below the galleries we had completed. Putting the bag back in the luggage area, after a gentle “Non non: from the security as he tried to walk in, we find ourselves in another huge exhibition of painting, sculpture and memorabilia ending up in an enclosed court yard buying coffee from a converted Citroen van. Bliss again.

On leaving the museum, shopping is the next thing on the agenda. Off to Galleries Lafayette. Now there is big, then there is bigger, then there is GL. WE entered through their own personal Metro station entrance in to a complete floor selling only women’s shoes. Kris was tempted by the Jimmy Choo shoes but the heels were a little high (as was the price tag). Eventually we discover that this building is only for women’s buying. The men’s store is in a completely separate building accessed by an aerial walk way!!!!

The floor above the shoe floor sits on the ground floor under the most amazing global cupola of stained glass, and it only sells perfume on this level. One whole bloody floor of every perfume imaginable (except for no Ombre Rose). You really just want to walk around gazing upwards but then, there is so much to see and buy. We can’t find a Merrill seller so John is unable to get some new shoes, but we do find the Dior perfume counter. If Kris has been wearing Ombre Rose for the last 30 years, John has been wearing Eau Savauge from Dior (only on special occasions mind) for the last 45 years since being presented with a bottle by his kind host family in New Caledonia as a 15 year old.

What to do. Johnny Depp was advertising the new “Savauge” , it smelt good, it was GL, it was Paris, so what the heck; Kris splurges on a new smell for John to remind us of this trip to France.

We  scout out somewhere away from the cigarette smokers (France has one of the highest incidences of lung cancer in the world as everyone smokes everywhere!) and John has another beer (large this time and her also works out the nickname of the local beer to make future ordering easier) while Kris has a jus tomat.

Feeling peckish we buy filled baguettes and wander the streets towards the Opera eating as the Parisians do. I could get used to this if I haven’t mentioned this before!!

We have missed out on some of the city sights on this trip so we make a dash for Notre Dame. Last time we were here the queues were horrendous but this time it is only a few minutes wait until we are inside. Of course the cathedral is colossal, but this is completely overpowered by the sheer magnificence of the two Rose windows. A further example of man’s ability to create such amazing beauty.

On leaving the cathedral, and realising that we still hadn’t achieved parity with eh cost of our museum pass, we try to find St Chappelle. We had seen the queue on our last trip and had decided it was too long, but then we couldn’t remember where we had seen the queue!!

After only one unintentional side track, Kris of course, gets us on the right track and we find the queue. Bugger, is still too long….. Next time then.

We leave the queue but right next door is another museum with no queue, The Concierge. Now this is not of the same beauty as St Chappelle, but in another way, is a very fitting end to our Paris trip. During this trip we had been educated and informed about the revolution and the days up to and after 14^th July 1789. The Concierge put the finishing touches to this part of the trip. It was from The Concierge that those condemned to the Guillotine were held on their last night on the planet and from where they left, by the 12s, to Place de La Revolution to lose their heads. Through the same door that walked through. It was also the place were Marie-Antoinette was held captive in the months leading up to her death by guillotine as well. Sobering and sad. It leaves us wanting to know more about this time in French history. How did it really turn out so badly??

So back to our bar for another beer and Cote du Rhome. They are getting to know us now, but really, you cannot exit the Metro after a hard days sightseeing (16kms worth!) without a cleansing ale and a glass of wine.

A further shopping trip to Mouffetard for the purchase of another half bottle of red and this time, a slice of Comte (all again in exquisite French, or at least John thought it was)

After wine and cheese at the hotel, a decision is needed for dinner. We are in Paris, it is our last night, so of course we just have to have Vietnamese again!! So back up to Contrascarpe and another beautiful tasty meal.

John demands a last walk down Mouffetard so arm and arm the happy couple wind their way down the street, pretending to be students, sneaking a cheeky kiss, and just revelling in the joys of being together and being in France

Encore une fois encore une fois I believe!!

It rains

It rains it pours I cry

So dawn dawns grey and wet in Paris. We don’t mid snuggled up in out lovely big bed on the fifth floor of our hotel. It has been cool coming back to the same hotel and same area. We know the ropes so to speak. We know the local area, including the bars and the restaurants so it is like being on home turf.

This time, breakfast is included in the room rate so we descend to the sous sol (basement) where are breakfast is served. The basements is deep down in the bowels of the building and appears to be in the old stone lined cellars. It is a great game playing “pick the nationality” of our fellow breakfasters.

A slow start as we are in no great hurry today. First stop is the Louvre. It is pouring with rain and the usual Museum Pass entry is closed so we join the hordes shuffling through the Algerian umbrella salesmen.

The place certainly has changed amazingly since we were last there (being that was 30 years ago!)  The CROWDS, the CROWDS the CROWDS! I have never seen so many people in one place at one time.  As expected the museum itself is also huge. Due diligence had been done on the internet prior to our arrival so we (John!) had a list of things we needed to see.

First up was the basement area, down to the building blocks of the actual palace. Just as well as this was where the stream of bods was also heading. From there it was a short trip up to the Egyptian and Mesopotamian exhibits, part of the plunder of dear old Napoleon (the 1^st)  Not really art as one would expect  but was absolutely fascinating. We spent probably around an hour there before leaving the building and on to Napoleon (3^rd)‘s chambers. Another drop dead experience. The palatial grandeur of the apartments was jaw dropping ornate and ostentatious, but very appropriate in a weird way to the nature of its time. The crowds had thinned a little at this stage so it was a more relaxed visit.

Next stop: Let’s play spot the Moaning Lisa! OK, we saw the old girl 30 years ago and we had been duly warned by every web site about what to expect but it still was bloody hilarious. It was more fun watching the punters than looking at the art work!

By then, we had had enough. So out we went into the fresh (very) air. The rain had eased as we walked through the nearly deserted Tuileries. A coffee at an exorbitant price in a coffee stand in the middle of the gardens was still a welcome respite.

The Orangerie:

OK, our Museum passes give us a queue jump capability at the Orangerie. That would have been fine if the attendant had permitted us to gain access ahead of the ticket less plebs. But oh no, despite protestations from an elderly American gent, the plebs were let in first, ahead of us privileged  individuals. “There is two queues” just didn’t cut it. Then it started to rain. Bloody frogs.

Eventually, we deposit our bags at the front desk and enter the museum

Last time John was not prepared for the experience of seeing Monet’s lilies. This time, even though we were both prepared for it, the paintings still blew us away.  Just the shapes and changes in colour and texture Monet was able to out into the impressionist work left us numb. Sitting on the seats gazing at the immense canvases is a life changing moment. Mind you I could have shot all the imbecilics posing for selfies or posed photos in front of the paintings. Leave your bloody cameras at home and leave the impressions on your mind not you PC!! Really, this should be a camera (and noise) free zone such is the power in the presence of such greatness.

With spirits suitably cleansed and rebuilt, we emerged to decide what our next stop was. Really we had had suffice and so it was back to the hotel, via a handy bar for a beer and a glass of Cote du Rhone. John, spying flags of nations involved in the Rugby World Cup entered a spirited conversation in Franglais with the lads behind the bar about who would win the cup. Great fun!

We walked up Rue Mouffetard on the way home just to sample the atmosphere. This was aided by the purchase of a half bottle of Pinot Noir and a nice slab of “forte” camembert. Either the cheese seller was a great conman or John’s French is improving as there were profuse protestations of how excellent John’s French was. John’s head swelled another few centimetres in hat size as we walked home. This sort of made up for him getting a small (250ml!) beer at the bar when he thought he had ordered a “Grande” (500mls) Perhaps the waiter was deaf.

So wine and cheese ponging out our hotel room.

The bar by the Metro was serving Tapas from 1800hrs so it was back down to the bar for a tapas dinner washed down with a nice bottle of wine. Yep, I could certainly keep doing this!

We have one more day on our museum pass and one day left on our Metro tickets. Watch out Paris, here we come.

En Paris

En Paris!

Great sleep again. Our room looks out over the roof tops of the left bank. But no street noise, warm, a little small (you can almost shower while having a pee!!) but enough for us.

Again, le petite dejourney est included, so breakfast in the dungeons of the hotel.

We are leaving our museum passes until tomorrow so today is free bees. To our local M station where we not only buy our three day metro passes but also assist another couple trying to do the same thing. No thanks received.

John on the turps

Our first planned stop is a free museum!! Not a common occurrence in Paris but after a little internet searching we have come up trumps. Deep in the Marais district of the 3^rd A, is a beautiful wee museum, Musee Carnavalet. The museum deals with the history of Paris and has an absolutely amazing top floor where we learn all about the French Revolution or should that be Revolutions!

Le chat noir

Amazing stories and artefacts. A real look into the life of Parisians around the time of the revolt and some very interesting facts around La Bastille! But more on that later.

Model of the Bastille made from stone
 from La Bastille itself

Keys to Bastille cells

Toys played with by Louis XVIth

On completing the museum, we head out to find the head office of the makers of Ombre Rose. Now there is a story here. Many years ago, when we all had full heads of hair and were young and frivolous, John wished to impress his then young wife. He wanted to do so by buying for her a “special” perfume that would signal their special relationship. He spent nearly a whole afternoon in a perfumery at the bottom of Queen Street, sampling a vast range of perfumes. Eventually he decided that Ombre Rose met all the criteria for his love. Thankfully, his love agreed and this has been Kris’ perfume of choice since then. Eventually the perfume shop in Auckland closed and Ombre Rose was no longer available in New Zealand. Recourse had to be made to the internet with a US based concern providing ongoing supplies. But what could be more romantic than buying Kris’ special French perfume, in Paris?  So further internet research had found that manufacturer’s address and so we fronted up to buy. Bugger!!! Paris closes at 1230 and the doors were firmly shut! Damn.

Merde! Il est ferme

Time was running out for our next appointment, walking tour of the Marais, so perfume buying is placed in hold and after having a terrible cup of coffee from a very grotty street café, we meet up with our pink waist-coated tour guide. We are the first to arrive and as the tour starts, there are only another five people so looks like being a good tight tour. Unfortunately, five minutes later, the rest of the group who had been waiting on the wrong side of the road work out that this is their tour and our numbers swell to over 20. Bugger.

Place des Voges

Wee house in Marais

Regardless of this, we have a great walk through the back stress of the Marais, visiting heaps of beautiful small parks and gardens hidden away down alley ways in this one of the oldest parts of Paris. Of course we cover the revolution and La Bastille. The tour guide asks the difficult question; “How many prisoners were released when the prison was liberated in the revolution?”  Now not being a smart arse, but then of course he is, John pipes up with “Seven” The correct answer which he had learnt from his museum walk that morning. Now that stunned the guide!!!

A good tour and the third we have done with this company. There are no set fees; you pay a tip to the guide at the end of the tour corresponding to how much you enjoyed it. A pretty cool concept that seems to work.

So, then back to our perfume shop.

Oops. Bit of a problem here. As we descend the stairs to the Metro, the train is sitting there, doors wide open, no buzzers sounding, so John leaps on. Kris is a little slower. As the poor wee mite enters the train, the doors close on her. Now usually, you would expect the doors to spring back open. No, this is Paris. The doors try to cut you in tow. And not only that, there were two sets of doors, one of the platform and ne on the train itself. John looks behind him to see this poor squashed thing half in and half out of the train, with the train about to leave. John and a friendly Parisian train passenger grab the doors and force then open. In tumbles Kris, slightly worse for wear. She could have got cut in half, especially if the train had left. I am presuming that his could not have happened but we will not try this again. “Mercy, Monsieur to our helper and off we go to the next stop on our Metro ride. Kris suffers bruising on her arm and a sore big toe, but she is still with us.

Nice chap selling Kris' perfume

On arriving at the perfume business, this time it is open and we meet a very nice chap whom we tell our romantic story to. He brightens up when we say we are there to buy more and, after a wide ranging conversation about Cup du Monde, sailing, New Zealand, perfume etc, Kris gets a rather nice birthday present (On arriving home we find that she has  bought her old perfume not the new version which she had tried. Just as well as otherwise the story would not be anywhere near as good).

Touch of wine post purchase

We simply have to have a glass of wine and a beer at a sidewalk café to celebrate. Things are looking good.

Back to the pub for a freshen up. Kris gets messages that her mum is not too good. Hard to be on the other side of the world and feeling a little out of control. We are sure that she will get good care back in NZ.

John has a desire for Moules frites for dinner so back to Mouffetard to hunt up this delicacy. Believe it or not, it takes quite an effort to find a seller of Moules frites, but, eventually, we find a place and we chow down on a kilo of baby mussels each!!! Yum yum, and another bottle of French Savvy to wash it down with.

Next port of call is some Jazz. This time, it is not the internet

Club Universal

but a pamphlet showing jazz cubs in Paris from the hotel, and guess what? There is a club with free entry at the top of our street. So off we go to Club Universal. Man the jazz was brill!! There was a four piece band who were all brilliant jazz musicians and we really enjoyed their set over two glasses of vin rouge de Bordeaux. The next part of the evening was where the band played and “guest” singers performed; a bit like up market Karaoke!! So, on completion of the set, the old hipsters left the bar for home. By now it was teeming down as we splashed our way like young lovers back to our hotel. To Sleep!