Paris au Printemps

Ah, Paris in the springtime. Perfect weather, chic fashions, amazing art, poor service, outright rudeness and littered streets. We've seen the best and worst of France, an impressive country with one major flaw - the French.  

More Melbourne peeps arrived yesterday - Aunty Nessie and Uncle James! It's so nice to have them here, sharing the apartment and entertainment duties with us...

... and bringing cheeses into the house that smell worse than my soiled nappies. Thanks James.

We've seen the sights these past couple of days. Stop 1: Merci, a fancy bookshop-cum-cafe / fashion boutique / camping store (really!). Supposedly the cool place to go, the level of service met the Parisian standard (ie. we were ignored). Ever seen Mum without her caffeine fix? Soothing words won't fix it Dad.

I was going to book the pram in for a service but, considering how much the grass had grown under the mini, decided against it.

Stop 2: The Latin Quarter. Tensions relieved when Mum finally got her coffee (at over 6 Euros! (AUD$8)) and a crepe. Stop 3: St Germain for lunch in the park. Stop 4: Musee D'Orsay, where once again I was Mum and Dad's ticket to queue jumping. Can't do that in Australia. The museum is housed in a converted train station. We all enjoyed the art, but Mum was more impressed by the building itself (with its 1600 rosettes in the walls and ceiling). No photos were allowed, so here it is:

Mum and Dad were arted out, so then we walked along the Seine to the Eiffel Tower. It was pretty cool, so much so that Mum turned into a raging paparazzo. I hear Paris and paparazzi can be a bad combination, but no-one got hurt.

Today's trek was up to Montmartre. It was pretty but packed full of tourists (damn those tourists!). The view of Paris was sensational, but I was more mesmerised by the France Idol wannabe singing on the steps... you're never going to win with that shirt, Dad.

Sacre bleu, c'est Sacre Coeur!

To escape the hordes we headed down the hill to check out the Moulin Rouge. Sex shops, sex shops, sex shops, I've never seen so many sex shops. When Mum started kicking up the pins, I knew it was time to go.

From phallic symbols to more phallic symbols, we headed to rue du Douai. Dad was expecting guitars, but could only find model train stores. Again, I had to question both Dad's research skills and sense of direction; thankfully, it was the latter at fault this time, as the other end of the street had masses of guitars. Dad was happy. Mum was bored. Nothing a dirty nappy couldn't fix.

 Then I ate lots of bread. French bread really is very good.

Dad then took care of me, while Mum set about spoiling she and I with new outfits. And that was the end of our Parisian sojourn. Tomorrow we head south to Avignon for a few days, then to the villa! I'm having a great time.

See you soon.

Love,
Louis x