Dry grass

Well, as you can see, i am back in Brisbane,. It is dry as, as you can see from the pix.
Wish I was still on holidays!!

 

Jacaranda in Brisbane

 

Last Supper

Well Daddy is currently winging his way to Singapore, and then back home to IbisHaven (aka Briz Vegas). It was a sad farewell at Charles de Gaulle airport this morning, but we'll being seeing eachother again soon. I'd like to make a trip home to see the ibis this summer. How I miss those mangy scavenging birds. Their absence is especially felt as I sit taking in the splendour of Paris' beautiful public gardens. I might write to the city's major and suggest introducing some of these dear dull-eyed smelly fowl.

Here are a couple of pictures from our final day together. A picnic on the island in the heart of Paris, and dinner at our favourite bistro, Chez Paul, in the Bastille area.
Mmmmmm...sardines.

Carla (standing in for Uncle Pete)

Batobus

And yet more pictures of the Eiffel Tower...

One wonders why one blogs seeing as no one comments...?
The idea was that it was going to be a two-way street dear family! Ie: I blog my heart out, and you occasionally keep us informed about proceedings in Brisbane or comment on the witty travelogue. The above comment does not of course apply to Robyn Heads. (Thanks for all of your contributions.)

Well I'll be home soon enough. I can only hope you are saving all of the news for my arrival.

Enjoy the photos taken during our boat trip on the Seine today.
And do check out the number plate on the Aston Martin ! :)

Tour Montparnasse

Today we made our way up to the top of Paris' only huge skyscraper, Tour Montparnasse (second tallest office block in Europe) and took in the panoramic view of the city. Well worth the visit (weather permitting of course).

We also took a stroll through the Montparnasse cemetery and low and behold encountered Serge Gainsbourg's grave. Carla and I were both surprised to learn he was long dead. For those of you not familiar with Serge, he was quite an icon here and you have probably heard of the breathy Jane Birkin number "Je T'aime".

Nuit Blanche

Mixing it with models

As you can see from the photos, Carla managed to talk her way into the Easton Pearson cocktail soirée to celebrate the new seasons collection in Paris. It was wall to wall supermodels (Frank eat your heart out!) Legs up to their elbows! Anyway it was good to catch up with some Aussie characters... all very nice people, with a sense of humour, unlike the Parisians, and non-smokers, unlike the vast majority of Parisians who still puff away like there's no tomorrow. It rained cats on dogs on our way to the hotel setting which was the only time it has rained during my holidays. Carla was distressed to traipse through the pouring rain and gushing gutters in her million dollar shoes and coat. All turned out very well though, even the designers sincerely thanked us for attending.

I suspect the very trendy smoked salmon hors d'oevres gave us a slight case of dehli belly. However Carla vehemently disputes this and blames my choice of pastry the morning after.

The following night was a Nuit Blanche (White Night) whereby Paris is alive all night with music and cultural entertainment largely supported by the city council. We enjoyed ourselves tremendously and had the pleasure of attending a grand organ concert in Notre Dame. Truly spectacular.

The weather was still fantastic, and plenty of people wandering about enjoying the activities, which included fire-eating displays, high calibre buskers, acrobatic roller-bladers, all in the shadow of Notre-Dame. To top it off we enjoyed a hot chocolate on a terrace overlooking a bustling square.

Just another day in Paris

Settling into some sort of routine here. Landlord gone, girlfriend gone too, have a two bedroom, one dining, plus kitchen and bathroom all to myself in the heart of Paris. How good is that? Am I trustworthy or what? So this is the routine: I get up sometime, get dressed and walk to local boulangerie where lady greets me "Bonjour Monsieur!". Buy pastries for Carla and me, plus baguettes to make sandwiches to have during the day. Go home consume pastry and coffee and slowly think about what I shall do for the rest of the day. Which cultural landmarks shall I devour? Shall I read the paper in the Tuilleries or the Luxembourg gardens, no wait, I shall sit overlooking the glass pyramid at the Louvre. (Da Vinci Code anyone?). Then Carla and I have quality father daughter time over baguettes and wine. Then the whole cycle repeats itself.

Today Carla got the surprise of her life during her "routine" checkup at the dentist. Namely the aforementioned dentist suggested removing her wisdom tooth right then and there. Half an hour later she was back on the streets with a bleeding mouth. Sadly no baguette for Carla today, or pastry! All the more for me. Don't worry Anita, I treated her to soups, yoghurts, milkshakes and ice-cream, and not forgetting the yummy chocolate dessert you can buy in the yoghurt section of the supermarkets here.

Carla's garret window at sunset this evening

Being Touristy

Cooking up a Storm in Paris

Grooming for Paris fashion week (as if !)

Relaxing in Paris

Il en a sous la casquette !*

As you can see on the accompanying photo I have treated myself to a new casquette (cap in french).
Note the turtle neck and silver goatee to emulate the french intellectual look. (Don't know if I'm succeeding).

Also note in other photos the presentation of the Roquefort in the wedge shaped container which doubles as a serving dish. How good is that !? Why didn't I think of that ?!

Also as you know today is Yom Kippur (the day of atonement for the Jews). It is quite a big deal and as we are living right next door to a synagogue we get treated to quite a lot of singing by out of tune loser jews. Why loser jews?... I hear you ask. Well let me tell you there seem to be a lot of bums with skullcaps hanging around this area. Also as a result of Carla living in a jewish area, and it being a feastday, we have a 24hr police guard armed with sub-machine guns lurking about the street.Would have loved to show you some pix, however I was not allowed to.Also , the jews now sell lemons and a kind of cany,reedy, plant . It is obviusly meant to be for some or other religious ritual, who knows. According to the landlord this is the safest street in Paris. Mum, you can be assured your daughter is living in a good neighbourhood.
The landlord has departed for Grenoble in the Alps , at the moment he is freezing his
nuts off, in a tent, 7 kilometers from the spas that are meant to be healing him (courtesy of the french tax payer), and he has also decided to give up cigarettes and coffee as of this morning. Not an easy task seeing as he is totally and utterly addicted! (note accompanying photograph of said landlord, and girlfriend wearing leathers, but that is another story...to be con't)
It is fashionweek this week in Paris, and Easton Pearson are having a show quite close to where Carla lives. We are thinking of inviting ourselves, however I need to have my rather unsightly moustache trimmed (Probably by a cheap Arab barber!)

*He's really brainy (literally: He has some under the cap)

No Needle Phobia

The accompanying photo shows the injections I have to administer to myself daily to dissolve the clot in my leg. The latest in french de-clotting medication allegedly. Have to see the specialist for his approval to fly back to Australia before I depart.