With only one full day left to our month in France, I’m really not ready yet to come home. Paris has been an interesting experience this time. Living in the 11th which is outside the tourist districts has been an eye opener in many ways.The 11th is a working class district with warts & all attached to it, yet colourful in many ways. People going to work, shopping and living life. Many having pride in their dress, yet little respect for their streets. Dog turds, cigarette butts and Macca bags litter the back streets.
After dinner tonight we sat outside the restaurant sipping a coffee and a Grand Marnier on Place Leon Blum.
The traffic consisting of bicycles, motor scooters, cars and buses zoomed thru the roundabout in an orderly chaos that has to be seen to be believed. I’ve ridden in this chaos in peak hour traffic and there’s a flow to it that actually seems safe. No less safe than riding in a cycling race with another 40 riders.After a later than usual start this morning we planned a trip to Montmartre, the home of bohemia in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Home to artists such as Toulouse Lautrec, Salvador Dali and home to eroticism with the Moulin Rouge, the Can Can and ladies of the night.
We walked the streets of Montmartre passing erotic shops, artists selling their wares to finally La Basilique Du Sacre-Coeur at the very top of the hill. The view is extraordinary from this sacred point.
The white stone with the copper statues are quite impressive however even this sacred place of worship is geared to the tourist. Buskers and failed artists vie for your Euro. Strangely none of these artists with sketch pad asked if I wanted my portrait drawn but Ashley, our young and attractive companion was constantly harassed. A visit to the Salvador Dali museum was something I missed on previous visits and finally on this trip I was not disappointed. I enjoyed not only his sculptures and his paintings but his humour and zest for life that was reflected in his work.
Travelling home on the Metro in the peak period is I guess the same in any large city but having not travelled by public transport at home very much makes me look at it in a different light. You see many sad or bored looking faces, unwilling to make eye contact with their ears plugged into ipods. It almost makes me want to get the whole carriage to do a sing-along of Waltzing Matilda.
I had my last ride on the bike tonight before packing it up to travel home. Its been a great way to integrate with the local scene. I've seen more of rural France and Parisienne life with my bum on the saddle.
Tomorrow will be a
shopping day and packing for our flight home. Its been a great experience and gives a different outlook on life - but how fortunate are we to have been born in OZ.For those who have been reading the blog here in France, I'll finish off with some news of Melbourne, our home over the week that we return.
Thanks to all those that made our trip memorable.
Carol and Mikee and their friends Catherine and Alan, Ken and Walt, Coco in Dijon, Vanessa here in Paris and our good friends Sophie and Leigh. Finally my track cycling friend Michel Briat who made me welcome amongst his circle.
