Guide to Motherhood

I haven’t poisoned them, given them salmonella or stomach infections, knocked them out with frying pans or drowned them – even unintentionally! The car’s still in one piece and the garage door is still attached to it’s hinges, the house hasn’t burned down and despite my best efforts, the dog still dares to come near me. I guess some things just won’t change.

Anyway, 2 weeks, 2 days, 16 hours, 49 minutes and 23 seconds into this spontaneous and completely absurd but life-changing lesson of independence and practise in motherhood and so far so good! Still alive, non-paralytic, exchanging more than two words of French at a time, and surviving the metro.

This job should really come with a warning attached to it – the skull and cross bones ‘toxic’ sign seems to apply itself quite well! Being able to look after a house by yourself whilst parents are out is a kiddy-spit into a tourist-packed seaside near Disneyland, as au-pairing pulls your eyelids to shreds with the toughies of mothering (and none of the ‘good’ bits like holidays and family time...). One must learn the art of patience. Not waiting for the bus, or putting up with the motorbike that’s pushed in front of a mile-long line of cars at a petrol pump, or even surviving maths on a Friday afternoon. But sitting at a table watching the steam from three full plates of food slowly disintegrate, and seeing the pasta sauce you spent ages making start to congeal round the edge of the plate whilst they have ‘just one more minute’ of FaceBook chats and music downloads. (Here’s the new world of ‘Cyber Mom’, where we actually know what the kids are up to in their rooms and on the internet! Chat Roulette and being ‘fraped’ are no longer vocabulary from ‘youths these days’ which generate quizzical looks from parents, but automatically have meaning and the desired response.) Patience is driving back and forth three times from school in one morning because they can’t all get up and eat breakfast together. Helping them with their homework which they’re reluctant to do, having asked you for help but still continue to be unresponsive and defiant and regardless of the fact that you might not either want to sit down and do homework set for 9 year olds. And you thought those days of homework were over! Prepare for a complete re-sit of your GCSE years and A-Levels (without actually taking the exams, but all the knowledge to pass after helping and then tidying away topic work and revision notes), including the build up to the exams with raging tantrums, even louder music (‘to help me revise!’), kitchen raids (‘so I have energy to revise!’), hour-long phone calls (‘I need a break from all this revision!’), friends over (‘so we can revise together!’) and overall, a cloud of stress sitting determinedly over your home (and not really much revision going on). 

One must learn counting. Not the number of times you’ve bashed your head against a wall in total desperation, or even the number of times you considered bashing theirs, but really just taking some (extremely big, wolf-and-three-pigs-scenario) deep breaths, counting to three (or three thousand in worst cases!) and continuing the daily battles of not going to bed, won’t go to bed, not getting out of bed, not tidying their rooms, not cleaning the kitchen after ‘cake making’... Counting is also necessary every so often to check you still have the right number of kids you left the house with!

Fortunately, as an au-pair and not a mother, I don’t have to love these phone-gabbing, hairbrush-bashing, music-blasting girls (however lovely and charming they may be!). Does it make this whole thing easier to watch your own flesh and blood grow up and make decisions, and feel pride, accomplishment and love for them? Or harder, because you can’t just shut it out at night and ‘think of the money’?

Ring the bells for Notre Dame

So I attempted to reduce my fears of pigeons by going to  Notre Dame today. Well, maybe not 'attempted', but I certainly was getting better at walking close to them before they try and fly into my face!! I was saving Notre Dame for a really sunny day, because it really is so beautiful, and I'd hoped to go to the top of L'Arc de Triomphe today, but I don't think I'd have been able to see the Eiffel Tower, let alone the rest of Paris under the thick layer of cloud!!

  

 

I went inside the cathedral (first time!) which was pretty magnificant, and then toured around d'Ile de Paris. I discreetly pulled out THE MAP to find Pont Neuf (the map which might as well announce upon opening 'I'M A TOURIST'), and walked back to the metro via the big bridge. I could just see the Eiffel Tower from the bridge, but the views would be much better had it not been such crap weather! I'd also have loved to go up to the North Bell Tower (Quasimodo's tower!), but once again, the clouds would have ruined the 'panoramic view of Paris'.

L'ile de Paris seems to be 'home' for Berthillon ice creams (France's equivalent to Ben & Jerry's), but unfortunately it wasn't particularly 'ice cream weather'! The island was really pretty though, with cafès and bistrots along the river banks, little boutiques and traditional shops (patisseries, boulangeries and chocolatiers), and 'perfect Parisian streets' with cobbled roads and cream walled houses, bikes tied to posts, and balconies with flowers and duck-egg blue window shutters. I even saw a fashion shoot happening! So exciting!! Notre Dame does look much better when photographed with a sunny blue-sky background, but it's not about to move anywhere so I'll definitely be returning!

 

Parading round Paris

 

 

So I stayed out for the evening, and ended up getting a the metro to L'Arc de Triomphe, then walking to the Eiffel Tower, and then back to L'Arc de Triomphe to get the train home. It was a pretty awesome night though. When I was at the Eiffel Tower I went right under it, and I was walking up to Trocadero, which has an incredible view of the Eiffel Tower and suddenly (at 9pm), all the 'twinklers' were turned on, and the Eiffel Tower started shimmering/sparkling! Very magical and made it a be-you-tiful evening! :D

Genesis Adapted...

...AND THE LORD had mercy on the girl without shoes, and with his hindsight, the Lord God took some soil from the ground and formed a man New Look store out of it; he breathed life-giving breath stylish but cheap clothes into his nostrils the store of wonder and the man began to live. 

I went to Chatelet Les Halles today, and it's a SHOPPING MALL!!!! And I came out of the underground to see NEW LOOK!!! *Angels sing* SHOES SHOES SHOES!!! And New Look shoe-sizes ACTUALLY fit me, and I love them!!! So I leaped madly inside to check it out, and it was UHHHHH-Mazing. 

Then the Lord God placed the man in the garden of Eden New Look to cultivate it and guard it spend money. 

 

So I spent a good hour there, trying on the shoes, and eventually narrowing it down to one particular shoe, but either a mushroom-colour camel/grey, or a marine-blue. BOTH SO NICE! I also considered buying them BOTH, because this was one of my most incredible by-chance finds ever, and SO unsuspected, but I realised I'd then have the problem of which colour shoe to wear when I went out.I went for the mushrooms ones because they match my nail varnish. :)

I also found a Starbucks (three in total actually, today), although it isn't nearly half as good as Nero's... I returned to New Look later on in the day, and it was beginning to resemble the floors of IKEA! It appears that the French aren't so keen on PUTTING THINGS BACK. It was a bit of a bombsite.









At The Centre Pompidou, famous for it's 'external skeleton', showing all the pipes, stairs and building structure on the outside of the building. I also found a music shop, and was so excited to see a cello (there were HUNDREDS of guitars and electrical instruments, but only ONE cello) - I miss my cello so much! I was thinking the other day how I'd love to have it here to play on...

 

I also spent a good hour walking around Chatelet to find a 'Dirt-Chic Vintage' shop recommended in Frommer's (Life-Saving) Guide to Paris - I'm actually starting to think that Frommer may be a female, as he/she knows some very good shops, and appears to speak from experience of serious shopping in Paris! Anyway, I EVENTUALLY found 'Rags and Vertige' - just as I was about to give up, I looked up and it was right beside me! I almost very nearly walked straight past it. Frommer describes it as an 'Ali-Baba's cave of retro fashion containing some of the best and cheapest selections of vintage wear that Paris has to offer, with oodles of original 1960s shift dresses for 10 Euro...' It was a pretty cool shop - I know a lot of people back in England who'd absolutely adore it!! Loads of good bargains to be found, and one or two gold-mine discoveries!! 

Just want to say,,,

A GREAT, BIG, MASSIVE

THANK YOU!!!!
to my super-super-duper Aunt (also financial adviser, Louboutin liaison-officer and newly-appointed proof-reader) for sending me an adapter. FINALLY!!! ELECTRICITY!!!!

I would take a photo of my very excited face, except I'm currently wearing a face mask so wouldn't want to make you fall off your chair/ collapse in horror at the mere sight of my make-up-less face! (So here's George Clooney for you instead Jen, to show how eternally grateful I am!) 

I'm so happy I'd also probably take a photo of the adapter itself but I was so excited (I've literally ONLY just been given it from the post box) I plugged it in immediately, so it's in use, and so far, hasn't blown my one and only socket in my room (which also has an extension adapter, an extension lead, two lamps, my laptop and now my camera charger and plug adapter all connected to it...). Fingers crossed for it holding out for the next 10 months!!

Chatelet - Les Halles (more shopping!) is on the menu for tomorrow, so LOADS MORE PICCYS! (To make up for all the lost opportunities and possible photos!) Tomorrow I'll be 'the annoying tourist'. :D You've got to have at least ONE day off from being 'Parisian'! 


On another note, after searching through images of George Clooney, I HAVE TO SAY, that William looks rather like him! Hmm. Maybe secret brothers?! Note to self: get more photos! 

Bad Bag Taste

Another school run this morning (although this time it was just the one!), and I parked the car down the bottom of the road so we could walk the rest of the way to school. At Marie's school (the junior/primary school), everyone has those little wheely bags, similar to suitcases, with the plastic pull-along handle and two wheels on one side. They’re pretty hilarious, and I always remember desperately wanting one when I was that age. I mean, COME ON. Wheels! Half the effort to carry it! 

Thank goodness my Mother had the sense NOT to buy me one! I see all these girls with pink suitcase-style bags, proudly pulling them along to school. We catch up to one parent and daughter in front, and I notice that this girl has a particularly ‘jazzy’ suitcase-bag in pink, with a sparkly cat on the front, and flashing wheels. Yes-that’s-right. Flashing wheels. 

I wonder if Marie is jealous of this ‘must-have’ bag being proudly paraded in front? Her own school bag is pink also, but rather more demure and modest unlike this Ferrari-equivalent bag. Although I actually feel sorry for this girl as she’ll be the most embarrassed about it 5 years down the road, when people remember her as ‘Oh you were the one with the bag and the flashing wheels’. Maybe not such a Ferrari-equivalent then...

If the shoe fits, goddamn-it., buy ten pairs!!

Another thing on the list to pack: heels. And before you silently gasp ‘Connie, WITHOUT HEELS??’, technically, I DID pack some, but in a separate box which was supposed to be sent out ASAP. Anyway, needless to say, no box, no shoes. I thought, 'I'll be looking after kids all the time. I won't need heels the first few weeks.' Erm, might want to re-think that one then!! 

So today was yet ANOTHER quest to find some shoes. This time I needed high heels for a party on Saturday night. I arrived to Chatelet Station and after wandering all over the metro for what seemed like hours (I had to walk across from Chatelet-Les Halles to Chatelet, all underground) I finally came ‘up top’ and facing H&M. Now that I’ve found one, they seem to be popping up wherever I go! I walked up and down the main street, going in and out of various shoe shops (there were so many!), and also using my Frommer’s Life-saving Guide to find particular shops. 

It was a rather disappointing shop, and I had so many shop keepers replying ‘WHAT size???’ as if I’d told them my age or bra size. Chill, s’il vous plait – I’m conscious enough about my EU-42 feet without you staring at me in shock and repeating my size out loud several times! (No, of course I’m not a 42 – I was just kidding...!?) All the shops went up to a toe-cramming 41 shoe, so it wasn’t if it was TOTALLY abnormal to take one size up... And after all, Paris Hilton takes a 43/44 EU shoe, so it’s not impossible to find shoes! Then again, she can afford to design her OWN shoes. I’m beginning to think that ‘large’ shoes in Paris are as common as Karl Lagerfeld himself giving out free Chanel handbags on the street! 

Maybe it’s time to get my bank card out and invest in another pair of Louboutins? Paris IS the birth place of Louboutin shoes, and at least I know they fit!! On second thoughts, maybe the rest of my family will disown me if I go ahead and buy a pair, especially as it’s only my second week in Paris... Maybe I give the ‘Rock-Chick Look’ a go with a LBD and some boots?

Hmm... I wonder if Paris has a Balmain?!

Bumps in the Night. (And rings, calls, bells...)

All this taxi-ing around, cooking creative/different meals and entertaining kids does leave one pretty exhausted, so, like the next person, I decided to attempt an early night. I managed it to bed at a record-breaking 11.45, and was just falling asleep. All was quiet, all was calm, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 

Then 10 minutes later, I was brought back to reality (Non-REM Stage 2 for all you Psychology geeks!) when the house phone rang (the ONE NIGHT I leave it in my room!!), and rang AND RANG. I think it's tune actually beats the dog's barking. I didn't pick it up, as my brain was in turmoil and I wasn't focused enough to understand any word of French over the phone let alone speak it, but OH MY GOD. It then stopped and rang again (WHO calls at midnight??), so I tried turning it off but it still rang (despite holding down the 'off' button), and then a few minutes later, after smothering the phone with a towel and enshrouding myself under the covers for SOME BLOODY PEACE AND QUIET, the door bell rang! Arghh! 

So I waited, but then thought it may be William, the father, coming home... very late... (I hadn't seen him that evening), so begrudgingly went down - no one else had bothered to get the phone/ the door. I opened the door to see man outside the gate. I could barely understand what he was saying (brain=mush), and obviously it appeared I wasn't understanding even the simplest of vocab so  he asked if I spoke English. Thank god! He explained he was William cousin and William had said he could stay the night but had forgotten to leave the gate open etc etc.. So I let him in - too tired to care if he was really a cousin, or a serial killer on the rampage - and went back to bed (although I put my laptop and iPod under my duvet beside me for safe measures!). Moments later, once tucked up in bed, duvet arranged around me and my rug cushioning my head and sweeping round my shoulders, the fecking phone rang again, although making a different ringing noise. It went on and on, and although undeterred by the contemplation of propelling it out of the window/ plummeting it down the stairs/ asphyxiating it in water/ battering it to a million shards of plastic, I very calmly and composedly (thrashing through the covers, vehemently trying to find the damn phone) took the batteries out. 

JEEZE! I'm the au-pair, not the bloody night-porter!!! :/ 
So with that, and the batteries at opposite ends of the room (in case they CRAWL back to each other and multiply into an army of ringing phones of terror), I rearranged my duvet, wrapped my rug round my shoulders and WENT TO SLEEP.

One for the Road. Or three?

Andddd just in case I didn't already know the route to school, I did it THREE TIMES this morning, because the girls didn't/wouldn't get out of bed on time. 

And no, before you ask, it wasn't because of the pork from last night!!

THREE TIMES. I'd also like to add, that the school run is QUICKER to walk than drive. The amount of traffic lights and traffic is crazy, and all the one-way roads mean you have to do a huge loop. So there was me this morning running round like a headless chicken, gathering up girls, shuttling them to school and coming back for the next one. C'etait RIDICULE. 

Une Catastrophe dans la cuisine!

So I thought I’d attempt to cook PORK for the girls this evening – and I don’t think I’ve ever actually cooked meat before (with the exception of frying bacon...). The whole mission of cooking the pork was difficult right from the word ‘go’, or when I attempted to take the chops out of the packet... The cooking instructions were useless (if you call a few pictures, ‘instructions’), so after poking it with a steak knife and levering the pieces onto tin foil, I turned the oven on high and let them frazzle.

I’ve got rice in one pan, I’m attempting to boil courgettes (the kitchen is deficient of a steamer – one of the best inventions ever), keep the onions moving round another pan whilst chopping up aubergines to grill. The things I check on most definitely aren’t ready, and things I ignore start to sizzle and over-cook. I throw open the oven door to find 3 shrivelled pork chops; the edges slowly turning darker and looking more and more unattractive. I flip them over with a knife and leave them to cook on the other side. Meanwhile, the onions are sticking to the pan, the rice is still raw and the water to boil the courgettes is still cold. I think the aubergines are the only thing actually going to plan! I fling all the med-veg in one pan with some tomato sauce, by now the rice is over-done, and the pork chops look... well, like burnt pork chops. I poke it with a knife – am I looking for juices? It’s like leather anyway and I can’t possibly imagine anyone attempting to eat it. I serve it up, disguse it in basil and try my best to make it look at all appetising on the plate, and place them gingerly on the table. 

Maybe it’s the French, but the girls dive into in, tearing the meat off the bone and pinching each other’s rice. I’m amazed, and feel very sympathetic for them for eating it. The Dad arrives and picks at the food, and tells me something in French about cooking meat (I explained it was my first time), and said something about ‘maladies’ (= sickness). I instantly panic, wondering if I’ve poisoned the girls... Every cough, sniffle and toilet trip lasting more than 2 minutes will have me fearing the worst now, AND IT’LL ALL BE MY FAULT.

The Dog Hates Me.

It’s such a nasty thing, and I instantly disliked it on arrival – even more so when I discovered it had ‘les poux’. I didn’t even need a dictionary to work out what it was. So like the germaphobic, health-nut I am, I drowned the poor damn thing in anti-lice/flea spray. IT is called ‘Speedy’. IT is a dirty-white fluffball absolutely COVERED in hair. It won’t stop yapping, and seems to read my mind when I’m about to go out, as it dashes out of the house to the car, and is difficult to get back in the house. Today I left IT at home all day, refusing to take the dirty rotten scoundrel to do the school run, and the moment I walked back into the house after Tennis this evening, it leapt up from the floor and started YAPPING at me. It’s onto me. (Still unsure whether it’s a he/she...)

Today was actually my most successful day so far, in terms of the family. It was a nice relaxing day: including doing the family food shop, and then I made amazing packed-lunches for the girls before their Tennis lessons this evening (5.30-7) which they were really impressed with (scoring serious brownie points). Then whilst they were at Tennis, I went for a FANTASTIC 10-Km run (just calculated it on mapmyrun.com – 6.35 miles) along the canal/river. On my way back, I ran past these two guys on some kind of running stilts. I am absolutely fascinated by these things – they look like Kangaroo’s hind legs. I remember reading about them ages ago. Check out the video below - they look absolutely incredible – and you can bounce, jump and sprint with them. Anyway, I kept running and they (very quickly) caught up with me! It was pretty fun actually, and then they started talking to me, and I didn’t want to admit I was English (URGH – a foreigner???) so kept saying how ‘fantastique’ they were, and making all the right noises, so I don’t think they suspected anything...

Musée d’IKEA.

I MADE IT. [Sigh of relief] The blue building: the colour of artificial-coloured Smarties, unwanted hyperlinks in Wikipedia-copied homework and the dress Sleeping Beauty looks best in at the end of that Disney film; and with yellow capital letters: also the colour of extremely bad food-poisoning aftermath, the coloured car that results in a black arm and the screams of ‘mine!’ and the centre of daisy’s which when you were young you’d hold up to your friend’s chins to see ‘if they liked butter or not’ (??!), but which, combined, form the flag that put Sweden on the map for egg-head Twits and people who didn’t go to school ‘becuz itz kewl’. I rejoice. I smile. I can stop twisting and turning my head around searching for signs to make sure I’m on the right bus going in the right direction. I can stop worrying that the bus driver is planning to take us to a dark torture chamber (no, not a rendition of Hostel...) or use us for Scientific testing. It’s all normal, and no adventures after all. I’ve taken a long (and very grubby) train and 2 buses to get here, BUT I MADE IT.

 

I got back home at about 7, after 1 hour 30 of travelling. (Although I still didn’t actually get lost.) I spent only 9€ over my ‘budget’, and I’m extremely pleased with my purchases! I feel so grown up, buying FURNITURE. Well, I bought a mirror, about 120cms in height, a very tall lamp for my room (I don’t actually have a light in my room... nothing on the ceiling etc), a ‘throw’ for my bed (so soft – that chenille type fabric, and the nights here are ICE-CUBIC COLD), shelves which tie round the hanger rail in my wardrobe for extra storage space (seriously needed!), some photo frames (a must-have on every IKEA trip!), some candles (again, a total must-have, and the same scent as the ones in my room at home – a coco-butter/vanilla F.Y.I.), and a very cool/ retro clock. It was nice to see a some furniture that I have back at home – those bright coloured ‘spot’ carpets, lamps, lights, desks, shelves, storage boxes... (and no, I do not live in Ikea!)

However, I feel compelled to tell you the characteristics of French IKEA. In England’s IKEA’s, I’m used to perfectly made beds, everything done with attention to detail, the perfect kitchen, the perfect bedroom – total happy families. In France, people take the saying ‘try before you buy’ to complete extremes. The store was a bit of a bombsite... Much like Oxford Street’s Primark. Beds were completely unmade, as if people had crawled inside to ‘check the darkness under the covers’, tables looked liked an entire cavalry had lunched there, to test the ‘sounds of the cutlery on the plates as if actually eating a meal’, and the ‘sound of the chairs on the floor’, and to compare which study desk really was ‘best for resting one’s head on’. I kid you not – a lady actually put down two rugs to see if they looked ‘right’ on the floor (rather than on the crates), and I caught another checking her spots/makeup in a bathroom mirror. I felt as if I’d really just walked into someone’s apartment. Afraid I would accidentally pull the shower curtain to reveal someone ‘testing the water’; I evacuated that ‘happy house’. 

Needless to say, it was a lovely day. My room looks a lot more... ‘homey’ now, with some light, warmth and a mirror. The candles have already scented-out my room, and I can’t wait to fill my photo frames! I’ve spent most of my wages from last week, but I won’t need to buy anymore furniture. I am also SO CHUFFED that I managed to assemble my lamp all by myself. :)



The next Jamie Dyson? Maybe a weeny bit over-ambitious...






 

Camera Conundrum

Ok, so the plan today is to not do too much. My only plan today is to do IKEA. Why am I in Paris, one of the most beautiful and romantic countries in the world, to see a Swedish furniture store? Because it’s ‘dirt-cheap’ [Frommer’s Guide] and another piece of home. Also, I’m desperate for a mirror in my room! I’ve been relying on my camera to check my make-up, which isn’t practical. I’m actually really excited. Much as I love seeing the monuments, skylines and pyramids of Paris, once every so often a traveller needs to see a bit of good home comforts. Whether it’s the smell of your mother’s perfume, a bowl of homemade soup or a worldwide department store you all used to visit together on a day off. 

Another reason for only doing a small amount of sight-seeing (oh yes, IKEA is definitely a monument!) is that my trusty camera has finally died. I wait with eager anticipation for my parcel to arrive with some travel adaptors to recharge it. So, I can’t do too much today in fear of missing out on some très important photo opportunities. I am now reliant on my beloved BlackBerry to take the snapshots. 

I have taken a train to the very outskirts of Paris, and am on my second bus. If I make it back home, it’ll be an absolute MIRACLE. I put on some very-short denim shorts, and instantly regretted it once I was outside as I resemble an albino ghost. French people are so TAN. Anyhow, it's just as well as the weather is hot and there isn't a cloud in the sky.

Parisian Chic

  

*Girly squeals* *Girly squeals* *Girly squeals*
For those who know me for my ‘OH MY GOD’s’, I’m sure you can imagine me now, dancing round my room (and NOT tripping over the futon-bed) like a lunatic.

The night out in Paris. 

It was... ‘incroyable’. 
I am making friends! I know how silly that may sound, but you have no idea what a FEAT of Triomphe this is until you too, have been in a foreign country and not known a single person. 

It was an AMAZING night out – meeting a few friends of mon amie #1 (a friend of the family, and amazingly, my age!) – seeing the Tour d’Eiffel lit up at night; one of the most beautiful sites I’ve seen, and also L’arc de Triomphe. However, my Français is still PANTS, and I spent most of the night saying ‘quoi?’ to her and her boyfriend each time they attempted to talk to me! I felt like Manuel from Faulty Towers...

A Day at the Museums

So I decided to act like a typical tourist today and take pictures of anything and EVERYTHING. I went to La Louvre, but was put off by the extremely long queue... so after having a good play-around with the timer on my camera, I headed off to Musee D'Orsay which is an old railway station-turned art gallery. It was pretty impressive, and seemed WAY SMALLER after seeing all a plan of the Louvre - it's enormous, AND there's rooms undergrounds and many floors above. So I can see why it's impossible to see the whole of the Louvre. Anyhow, Musee D'Orsay was nice - and I definitely recommend you spend 5 Euros on a mobile-phone-lookalike electronic guide for the Museum. It gives you the story behind most paintings, and gives you the art's history, inspirations and details. Admission is free for the under 26's from the EU. 

 

And I walked back to the Metro across Pont des Arts, and along both sides of the bridge, people have clipped Padlocks to the netting (all shapes, sizes, lengths and colours), written their name(s) and dated it! It's so adorable and magical!! I might do it next time I'm that way... It's a very clever idea. I wonder if they make a wish and throw the keys in the water? (River Seine) I'd love to find out the history of it...

 

Following the footsteps of Amélie

So I walked round Paris after my amazing achievement of finding H&M, got quite lost, and then suddenly I saw the most wonderful building (although not as amazing as Notre Dame...), and instantly knew it was la basilique du Sacré-Cœur. I've never been there before - we ran out of time to go and see it when I was in Paris last year. So I went up to see it, and there were so many tourist shops and stalls!! Then, using Frommer's Guide, I managed to find parts of Montmartre where Amelie was filmed!! It was very exciting seeing Cafe des deux Moulins - they've kept the '50's' look to it, it's almost exactly the same like it was in the film, and there's even a large garden gnome in one of the windows - a 'key' object in the film. I hope to go back to Montmartre soon and spend longer there. The day I went, it was absolutely HEAVING. 

 

 

 

Friends tell me it is raining in England...

  

'Window-Licking'

Frommer says: 'Parisians love 'window-licking' or lèche-vitrine - 'window shopping', as we describe it.

 

    

 

I FINALLY found H&M - thank GOD. Well no, actually, Thank Frommer's Paris Guide!! :) It was like HEAVEN. Part of HOME. I felt so calm seeing the things I recognised - those black coat hangers, low price tags, even some dresses I'd tried on in England! I had a much-needed splurge there, on some absolutely fabulous clothes! :D (I do REALLY love those Louis Vuitton Dolly Shoes however...)

PAREE PAREE! Mais où est H&M?

I found an Orange shop!!! (Not the colour...). Seeing shops from England is like seeing HOME. I also bought a sim card for my beloved BlackBerry, so have a new French number - cheaper calls to my French family.

The Window displays are so beautifulll! <3