Lovely to see you last week, we've barely had a minute to think since but thank you for a fantastic time on the Côte - we shall return! I am writing this on board a Eurostar bound for foggy London town after a wild and crazy weekend in Paris. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...
We pulled in to Gare de Lyon after a relaxing, Zen-carriage ride from Cannes, and checked into our hotel on Rue la Bruyère, which in a stroke of absolute genius offers guests a 24/7 soft drink and pastry open bar. After several pains au chocolat, a celebratory kebab in Pigalle and a wander round the Moulin Rouge and seedier establishments of Boulevard Clichy, we turned in for the night.
On Saturday we awoke to drizzle, but it cleared up once we set out to meet up with Jessica, Gaby's cousin from Minas Gerais who was in town for the weekend too, having gone to study English in London over the summer. We had lunch with Nic, of Archway fame, who also happened to be stopping by at his flat down the road and who gave us some insider tips for our trip to Barcelona before heading off to save the world for Oxfam.
Gaby went to Jardin de Luxembourg for an emergency session with a former patient of hers, who has been studying for two years in Paris and doesn't want to go back, while I went for a much-delayed Lili's Brownies hot chocolate with Pierre, who was in town for a matter of hours with his European Central Bank buddy - met up with Gaby, saw them back off to Frankfurt and wandered across the Pont des Arts for a quick drink with Noah, who was also coincidentally in town as part of an elaborate 30th birthday present from his girlfriend. And there was much rejoicing.
Then we went on to, and indeed in to Notre Dame, which was apparently hosting an extremely avant garde organ recital, and looked and sounded incredible; and headed back to the hotel to freshen up ahead of an evening at Le Refuge des Fondus, where we queued up, got in around midnight and gorge on cheese and wine in baby bottles, before rolling back down the hill to bed.
Sunday morning was spent preparing for our 50's photoshoot - Gaby had a bit of a wobble due to a combination of cloudy weather and her fake eyelashes falling out at a crucial juncture (taking her real eyelashes with them), but we hit the Champs Elysées (in the grip of a Brazilian-style Carnaval parade, of all things) and she was professionally restored to full diva mode in the Sephora make-up shed. Plus the sun came out eventually.
After a trip to see Ridaut's boulanger friend Mohamed (who gave us a free lunch and mango tarts AND let us change in his bathroom, the absolute legend) we went to the Trocadero to meet up with Juliet's photographer contact, who followed us down to the Eiffel Tower and Champ de Mars, on to the RER to Invalides where we hung around the bridge, and finally into a passing Uber to Notre Dame for the electrifying conclusion, all in flamboyant 50's attire. We look forward to the results!
Then we met up with Jub and Mel for crêpes and cider on the Ile St-Louis, before bidding our adieux and going all the way back to the Eiffel Tower to see it sparkle at midnight (I was outnumbered two giddy Brazilian tourists to one, although I'll begrudgingly admit it was pretty cool), and head back to patch up our feet and collapse.
On Monday morning I had to attend to work matters while simultaneously packing and checking out, then it was off to the Champs Elysées again to meet up with Gaby and Jessica for lunch. While passing the Grand Palais, we noticed an unusually high ratio of ridiculously good-looking people, and ended up in the midst of a full-blown red carpet fashion event, as statuesque models and shrivelled old designers walked purposefully past us in high heels to greet the paparazzi and World Fashion network cameras, before heading inside. It was all rather surreal.
We then made the most of our last few hours in Paris by wandering through the Tuileries in the boiling sun, picking up some macaroons underneath the Louvre and a crème brûlée by the Palais Royal, heading to St. Michel for a final stroll by the river, and making a late run for the Eurostar, which just about brings us up to date.
Sticking with non-Brazilian proverbs for this trip, I've got a cracker from Poland which I'm told translates as "not my circus, not my monkeys", and can be used to dismiss anything which is simply not your problem. Join us next week for more European hi-jinks, including trips to such jetset destinations as Barcelona and Isleham!
Speak soon,
Frèd-e Jacques
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