A PARISIAN NEW YEARS: CHAMPAGNE SOUP AND STICKY FLOORS

I don't like New Years. It's a pressured down day for everyone to host or attend the most jamming party that they have most likely been planning for the past 6 months. It's just dumb and I never seem to have plans, not even on the day. Its all quite a sporadic thing that wounds up with the most interesting results.

 

This year wasn't any different.

 

The celebration went something along the lines of a last minute gathering at a friend house in Paris with a whole array of different people. Two Finnish gals, Two French Canadians, one Malaysian/Australian, one South African and of course, who could forget the French. We glugged down copious amounts of champagne soup , danced to Madonna and merrily swayed in the arms of the other guests.
 

As the early hours of the morning drew near, the soles of our shoes clung to the sticky floor as we made our way to the front door and headed home...

PARIS: DAY 2

After witnessing the beauty of Sacré-Cœur and the Montmartre the previous night, I decided to view it a second time amongst the chaos that is the tourist hustle and bustle.  Taking the Metro to my destination, I sat on the steps  leading up to this magical building and stared blankly into the distance, admiring the vastness of the city that holds 12 million people. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by this thought, I moved along to view the well known square in Montmartre that houses artists drawing passer-by's faces at a somewhat small fee. As another downpour of rain fell upon the Montmartre, I entered a cosy café and indulged in a 6 Euro cappuccino whilst scribbling notes in my travel journal

The Notre Dame was next on my sporadic itinerary and happened to befriended Willy, a Bolivian fellow,  along the way. We spoke about our homeland, our current doings and our plans for Paris whilst admiring our surroundings. I told him about Lovers bridge, located at Pont de l'Archevêché, and tickled his curiosity so much that we ended up going together. Whilst twilight was setting in on Paris, a street musician played his guitar beside the canal whilst we sat and listened...

 

 

LIKE AN IKEA VIRGIN

Back in South Africa we don't have IKEA. 

 

Because of this, I deemed myself an IKEA virgin amongst the other American au pairs in my town who had been numerous times back in the States. The main reason behind our great trek to the store was to purchase a plate of their famous Swedish meatballs in the cafeteria.

 

And so I had the meatballs, and they were as delicious as I was told. On finishing our meal, I dreaded the thought of having to split the bill and pay separately between the 7 of us, only to realise we had already paid in the food line. I liked that. No having to argue with the waitress about separate bills,  wavering the right amount of change or under tipping the staff. IKEA really got that down!

 

The actual store part is great too. You worm your way around a maze of fake living room, kitchen and bathroom layouts of all the store furniture and write down the number of the items you like. When you get to the ground floor, you go to the designated number area, collect your box of unassembled parts from the shelves and go to the self  service check out points. Sure I knew that was the concept behind it, but to see and experience it in the flesh was pretty cool too.

Also, I realised this is what my face looks like when I'm in mid conversation

PARIS: DAY 1

Having been my first official day in Paris, one would have thought I'd have jumped out of bed by the crack of dawn ready with my city map, camera and a plan of action. Needless to say I didn't. I indulged in the fact that I could sleep in, somehow knowing the city would wait for me. After much deliberation with myself, I eventually ventured off on my solo adventure to the Champs-Élysées . I must admit, I don't think I looked much like a tourist. I didn't have one of those tacky rain coats and wasn't running around like a headless chicken taking photos of absolutely everything that stood or moved. I liked it.

Because my plan of action involved er..no solid  plan whatsoever, I was quite taken aback when I happened to stumble upon the Arc de Triomph in all it's glorious beauty amongst thousands of tourists, swerving cars and scooters. I stood, I stared, I snapped away and then proceeded to move along. After some serious detouring to get to the Eiffel tower I fell upon my first up close and personal view of this monumental structure. It all felt quite surreal, and it still does. It's definitely not a feeling you can describe until you've experienced it. None the less, I took a couple of hundred (thousand) photos and snacked on a Nutella filled crepe to ease the hunger pains. As I started to head towards the Louvre, a sudden downpour of rain left me stranded on the side walk, giving me a good excuse to enter the nearest cosy café for a meal entailing anything other than a crepe. I slurped down my French onion soup and struck up a conversation with Daniel, the gentleman sitting next time me who happened to have just returned from a three week vacation to South Africa. We were quite gobsmacked at the coincidence of it all and sat for several hours conversing about travel, relationships, love, Germany, and South Africa. To our delight, the rain had stopped, giving us the opportunity to finally get a glimpse of the Lourve. Seeing it at night is quite spectacular and not nearly as littered with tourists.  Daniel and I strategized where we would take a photo of us together, with just the right amount of light and perfect positioning. We hugged each other goodbye on the metro and bid our farewells as we got off at our respective stops.

For a day was went completely unplanned, it couldn't have turned out any better...

 



BUS BLUES TO PARIS

The coach was stuffy, the vibe neutral and the bus driver rude.  This was the environment I was confined to for a gruelling 8 hour bus ride to Paris. Having eventually stopped at a gas station for a toilet break, the girl sitting next to me and I skipped the long queue of the ladies toilet and made a dash for the mens. On our escape from the bathroom, we almost ran over two gentlemen entering the room and giggled like love struck teenagers all the way back to our bus

On arriving at Gallieni station, I couldn't have flung myself into the fresh Parisian air faster. I dabbed my clammy face, collected my luggage, and off I went into the tunnels of the Metro with my ticket in hand. Despite all the rumours of attacks, stabbings and pickpockets on the métro, I made it in one piece to Pyrénées station, where my couch surfing host ,Al, met up with me.

We offloaded my things, freshened up and was taken to the best night time view of Paris; Sacré-Cœur and Montmartre. We walked the quaint streets that were still bustling with tourists, and laughed at personal jokes we had managed to make in the few hours we had known one another. We sipped on beers at a local café whilst conversing about life and other things and when our hunger got the better of us, we devoured crèpes filled with cheese and chorizo.

AN UNCONVENTIONAL CHRISTMAS

Christmas day this year was not spent with my family. It wasn't spent basking in the summery sun and It wasn't spent at a beautiful wine farm in the Cape.

 

A visit from an Australian friend in Amsterdam was how much of Christmas day was spent. We drank far too much red wine, frolicked around in the forests, and made French toast for lunch.   we spoke about our futures in Holland , and whether or not we wanted to stay. We reminisced about memories of our friends, family and loved ones back home. We spoke Dutch, and then reverted back to English. We smoked cigarettes and lay in another's arms. It was a simple day

 

Christmas dinner was held at a good friend in my village, who so happened to be a chef. We sipped on onion soup for starters and a lightly dressed spinach salad with goats cheese and walnuts. There was meat too. Steak dressed with a creamy mushroom sauce and oozing medium rare blood on the dish. We played games, exchanged secrets, truths and dares and on my very short-lived drunk bike ride home, I couldn't help but to indulge in the thought that despite it being a somewhat unconventional Christmas , It may very well have been one of the most memorable..

 

COUCHSURFING IN BELGIUM

 

As I attempt to write about the past weekend spent Couchsurfing in Belgium, my fingers linger at each letter on the keypad. An experience I will most likely not forget and one I find hard translating into words.

 

Our Eurolines bus left from Utrecht station at exactly 09H00, leaving us with the long road to Belguim ahead of us. Michelle and I occasionally napped on each others shoulders, ate ginger biscuits and dreamily stared out the window. On our arrival in Bruges, we spent the remainder of the afternoon doing what one does best in Belgium, drink beer of course , followed by a quick train trip to Oostende where we could be staying the for the weekend with our couch surfing host, Yannick.

 

We drank copious amounts of beers whilst conversing about Africa, the history of Oostende, and a dismal attempt at his arcade games. As the night faded away, I fell asleep watching the Jungle book whilst Michelle and Yannick became better acquainted.

 

The best thing about Saturday was the chance to sleep in and laze about. We munched on a toasted 'stokbrood' filling our hungry belly's, followed by Yannicks historic tour of the war trenches on the coast and a stroll on the beach. When our time came to leave on Sunday, I felt I had witnessed two soul mates having to say goodbye. I'm quite a big cynic of love and anything 'relationshippy' and would rather stick a pencil in my eye, but these two were something else...