Comings and goings....

It is that time of year again... People are leaving... It happens every year here in Paris, always around at the beginning of the summer, people leave. The first one to go this year is our dear friend S, who will admittedly be back every now and again to visit, but he has been around for quite a while now and will be dearly missed...

But to happier things, things at work are going well, I am finally getting somewhere in terms of learning to drive (yes I know, I am 27 and don't drive, but I grew up in big cities, what can I say?) and I am going to get a long weekend off in July... It has to be at least 5 or maybe even 6 months since I last had 3 days off in a row so it is really special, made all the more special by the fact I will be going to F's mum's wedding... Very pleased to have been invited as it is literally just 3 guests, so feel rather special.

Time for lunch,
so until next time dahlings, that was me...

Apologies...

So, to start, apologies for the lapse in blogging... As F says I am a bad blogger and am simply proving her right... But my excuse is this: the existential crisis talk was getting boring, if you wanted to read existential ponderings then you would be reading Sartre, not me, and so I wanted to wait until well after my birthday to write again...

So, here we are, I am now 27 and all is well with the world, or at least nothing horrible has befallen me since turning 27 and life seems to be continuing as normal... There was even talk today of the possibility of a promotion at some point in the not too distant future, so, fingers crossed...

All in all, a not bad start to this year as a 27 year old. Though I must admit I am starting to feel like a proper adult, now that I am beyond the mid-twenties, though I still act like a kid and plan on doing so at least until I have children of my own, and probably after that too...

Until next time dahlings, (which I promise will be sooner than this time...), that was me...

What next....?

It is that time of year again... My birthday, or should I say the days leading up to it, when I ask myself "what next?"

As each year passes I feel like I should have done so much more the year before, feel like I haven't acheived anything, and haven't got to where I wanted to... In essence I have a mini-mid-life crisis every year... Sad really.

At least I don't run off with a different woman each year, or buy myself a new car... (Maybe if I had the money for one I would, or for that matter if I could drive...)

Speaking of driving, I am currently studying for my theory test, which is a little strange as I am doing it here in France, which of course means that I am learning all about driving in a foreign language, as if it wasn't hard enough already...

Anyway, I will update you all on how my 27 year old crisis develops, and let you know if I suddenly find myself buying one of these...

Until next dahlings, that was me...

Don't you just love Sundays...

Sitting listening to ole blue eyes, thinking how fabulous a lovely Sunday afternoon can be...

We have just been for a lunch at our little local bistro/café which is called Le Faitout. The other bonus for us is that it is just 50 metres down the road.

So work last night was crazy, but in a good way, at least when it is busy I know that I am working for a reason, whereas when there is no-one around it is a little bit of a waste of my time, as we earn a percentage of the takings...

The family crisis continues quietly along, though everyone is gradually realising that there is not a lot that can be done and we will just have to let things take their course, which makes us all feel a little helpless, but what can you do about it...

We are now waiting for our friend D to come over for coffee, and then will spend the evening doing nothing much... Don't you just love Sundays?!

Anyway,

until next time dahlings, that was me...

Birthdays aren't all that bad after all...

Today I was treated to something I haven't done in a long time... shopping! I had forgotten what pleasure was to be found in going and finding something just fabulous in a shop and buying it, especially when it isn't you paying for it... There is something to be said for birthdays!!!!

Work remains kind of crazy, but that is OK, as I don't really care, I am even more focussed on just showing up and doing my job than I was before, as now I also have another form of income, or at least I hope it becomes a form of income, I have been doing it for a while and until now I have only really succeeded in losing money... I speak, as some of you will have guessed, of the Foreign Exchange, or Currency market, one of the most risky, and therefore, most profitable, if you are profitable, markets that there is... And this week I have been profitable, in fact I have earnt the same in the last few days on the markets as I would at work, or more... I just have to hope that it continues, then, I can go and do some more shopping and I won't have to wait for my birthday!

Recently on facebook someone asked me to include some stuff on fashion, and let's face it, it was bound to come up sometime... So, A, just for you I have some recent observations on Parisian fashion, and I am not talking about Dior or Chanel, but rather the things that you see on the street, and more specifically the very Parisian particularity of boho chic (see section on French bobos in particular) which is rampant in our quartier of the 19th arrondissement. This variant on style is all about looking very bohemian, rebellious, vaguely artistic, and like you haven't really made much of an effort; the paradox being that to do it properly takes more effort than just dressing up in a classic way... It is dressing down, but doing so with panache and style... So, to put it simply, I do not agree with it at all... For those of you that know me will know that I am all about effort, class and elegance... But back to the point, as for many of you this may be a look to which you aspire... So, if that be the case, take the basics of any boho outfit, a flowy patterned top, or skirt, or dress, but this season add glitter. That is right, glittery boho chic seems to be the new thing.

I looked for a picture of this phenomen, but they were all boring as f***, so, no pictures this time round, and

until next time dahlings, that was me...

Cocktails and crises...

So it is about time I gave you all another entry in my blog... I apologise for the couple of days away, but I have had almost too much on my mind to write anything coherent, though having said that, I am not promising anything particularly coherent now either...

It has been a strange few days at work, but all in all I am still happy there, and whether or not I get the promotion I am looking for I am likely to stay, as I like the people that I work with, like the clientele and get on relatively well with the boss, which, let's face it, is a rarity... Having said all that, at the moment the whole place is beyond ridiculous, with one person leaving, one on sick-leave, which we are all more or less convinced, is fake, one who has been there a week and is not sure he wants to stay and then me. Anyway it is all a bit messy and so I am not planning on putting too much into it; I show up I do my job and basta!


So, the crisis isn't really work related, so what is it... Well it is family related, and I am not going to go into any details here, especially as I cannot do anything about it, which is of course frustrating but not unusual. I just hope it dissipates on its own, as a bad odour might....

Why cocktails I hear you ask...? Well, quite simply because I like this picture and I feel like going for them, I just wish I knew when I might be able to... Work is rather inhibiting when it comes to going out in the evening for cocktails...

The other crisis, is one that I am at liberty to discuss and it is more or less annual... my birthday, which, for any of you wanting to get me a gift occurs on the 23rd of this month... Why the crisis, well, this year I turn 27, which is not that old, but I feel like I should have done more with my life and certainly should be earning more money and should be able to support my dear F without her having to worry about where we are going to get the money for various things for the wedding or whether or not we can afford this or that... The long and short of it is that now I finally have some responsibility I don't feel that I am living up to the expectations that I set for myself and don't feel that I am, well I suppose the word is, responsible... So, enough rambling, I hope to go for a cocktail or two soon, and it will probably be at Au Caveau Montpensier, rue Montpensier, 75001 Paris, near metro Palais Royal for any of you who want to come join me to discuss my crises and have a cocktail... Maybe Thursday? The day before my birthday, what do you think? Anyway...

Thanks for putting up with the rambling,

until next time dahlings, that was me...

Back to work...

So it is scorching weather, at least for May in Paris, the sun is shining and most of Paris is just ending a five-day weekend. Not many countries oblige their people to work as little, and everyone is surprised that the economy is in such a state...

Enough politics, though I will probably cave in to the pressure and have to talk about Carla Bruni (I mean Sarko, wait, which one is the president again....?) at some point. My dearest F and I are currently debating moving to London, which is where I grew up, for the same reason everyone moves to London, the money... But of course the problem with that is giving up the relaxed, we get five-day weekends and work 35-hour weeks (I wish) lifestyle... This of course is the reason that people move to Paris. That and the food, oh, and the fact it is probably the most beautiful city in the world, and did I mention the food...?

So back to the question at hand... London vs Paris... In terms of people, London wins. Not only are our beloved JJ there, but all our friends in Paris seem to be leaving. There are only C and P that will be here on a regular basis: some of you are going to be leaving for new jobs (S, we can't wait for our Hidden Kitchen experience...) some to go to sunnier climes and some are simply going home... The long and short is that there are more people in London that we would count amongst our good friends, oh, that and the fact that parisians are really difficult to get to know, whereas Londoners are very friendly.

But then Paris wins hands down on pure aesthetics, and I love a good pure aesthetic!! Not to mention transport, and size. How many people in London can say they don't have to spend more than 30 minutes to get to work...?

But then again there is the money, and with a wedding to be working towards, not to mention a down-payment once we are married... Well let's just say that the money is certainly a major factor, as for most of us...

I will leave it there for tonight, but

until next time dahlings, that was me...

Paris in the springtime...

So yesterday, walking over Ile de la cité and struggling past all the tourists I was almost knocked over by a larger lady walking along with a full-sized map and bumbag and she made me think of an article I wrote a number of years ago. So without further ado, here it is: (Apologies to those of you that have already read this, but I am feeling lazy today...)

Aaaah, April in Paris! A veritable orgy of all things touristiques: ridiculously large maps; brash loud Americans; happy-snappy Japanese; shouting British hoping that some extra volume might aid comprehension; and perhaps worst of all bumbags! In short everything that I generally try to avoid whenever I go on holiday, but Paris was drawing me; I hadn't visited in a long time and it was time for my birthday treat, and so I found myself in Paris for a short midweek break.

It was as bad as I had imagined it would be. If anything it was worse. There were more loud brash Americans, and happy-snappy Japanese than I thought existed, and at every turn I encountered a large school party attempting to hinder my progress, and usually succeeding. Normally these were French children, though occasionally they were German, which was even worse, because then I couldn't even shout at them to get out of my way, as I speak as much German as most loud brash Americans: none.

You might have got the impression that I didn't want to be in Paris. This could not be further from the truth. I love Paris. In fact I love Paris as much as I hate all tourist traps, which, I am sure you can see, makes it a somewhat paradoxical love affair, as Paris, especially in the spring, is perhaps queen of all tourist traps. So, you see my dilemma. Not only do I hate tourists traps, but I hate the tourists they trap. Again, slightly ironic you might be thinking, but I do not include myself in their number: I do not own a bumbag, let alone wear one, I don't carry a camera, I don't carry an oversize map which I reach for at a moment's notice, unfolding it to its full size, only to find that, in fact, the metro map I have spent the last five minutes searching for, is right in front of me on the wall. I follow the locals in pushing unceremoniously past and cursing under my breath, in French of course. I have lived in Paris, I was born there, I am, to all intents and purposes, as good as parisian, except that I am English.

So, what does one do when faced with this horror, how does one manage to beat the orgy, rather than join it, is it possible? The simple answer is: yes. The slightly longer one is: yes, but with difficulty. I know that I am not alone in hating tourist traps and the crowds that are found wriggling, en masse in their grasp. I know that some of us do succeed in our quest to break free, and experience something 'real'. Some people go on year-long, nay, even life-long quests for a 'real' experience, whatever that might mean. Some take drugs, some search for it in some of the most unsavorary, uncivilised corners of the world. Backpackers are forever searching for the most out-of-the-way place, so far from anywhere that noone has ever been there before, and before long this becomes the 'beaten track' they were trying to escape in the first place and the search has to start anew. However, one place where you can find a 'real' experience is in cities, as their are so many tourists that the odd one is bound to find their way off the 'beaten track'. All you have to do is make sure you are one of the few, and one way of making sure you are is to make the effort to meet the locals and speak to them, and to do that it helps if you speak the locals' language.

So it is that, with my knowledge of French, my knowledge of the Paris metro system, and a reasonable understanding of the Parisian culture (one which is inherently different to the French provincial culture, though they are entwined together making up the complex tapestry that is French culture) I embarked on a 5 day search that would see me consume 60 expressos, in a dozen or so different street cafes, covering all corners of Paris. The problem that I was confronted with is that almost wherever you go in Paris there is something of interest to tourists, simply because Paris is such a beautiful city, so down the most obscure looking back alley you can easily come across a 16th Century chapel swarming with tourists, who have bought guide books. I was not interested in 16th Century chapels, beautiful as they might be, I was interested in meeting some parisians and moaning with them about the ridiculous number of tourists that insist on polluting this beautiful city's streets.

I do not want to take you on a step by step tour, giving away all my little secrets on the way, for that is the surefire way to make sure that there are tourists everywhere when I go back, but I want to encourage you to search out your own secrets. Paris is known for its cafes, and for good reason, there are hundreds, probably thousands dotted around in the most unlikely places. There are tiny alleyways in the very touristy area of Montmartre never seen by the majority of tourists in which hide beautiful little smoky bars, with old men smoking Gaulloises and sipping coffee, pastis, or wine discussing, with more and more passion as the day wears and the drinks get stronger various aspects of life. These are the sort of places you can imagine Sartre and Camus formulating the ideas that came to be existentialism. It is not in this area though, that you would have found them, it is in the far more trendy St. Germain, where I once found a bar so obscure I have never found it since, and so stereotypical it could not have been manufactured, and perhaps was only a dream.

You entered up some dark stairs, in a small side street opposite an arthouse cinema. Inside it didn't get much lighter, and gradually, as you grew accustomed to the dark and smoky interior you saw the walls were covered in a mixture of abstract art and what looked like film memorabilia, but with pictures of people you had never seen before. At small tables there were a few old men hunched playing backgammon, but the majority of the clientele were young, mostly in their twenties. At the bar the barman was surly, as if he was offended that some tourists could have found his bar. He soon became more friendly as he realised we were ready to make an effort to speak his language and were interested in actually learning something about him, rather than his home city, as is often the case with parisians, so give them some time, and try not to ask stupid questions! The moment that you stepped up the stairs it was like you were transported to another place, away from the real world, where all that mattered was discovering the secret of the universe and solving life's mysteries. Somehow it felt that in having a discussion about what we were going to do the next day my friend and I were being disrespectful to an unwritten code. Most were huddled intently, just like the old men in Montmartre, discussing various topics, which at that time seemed to mean more to them than life itself. I was amazed that they could see anything, it was so dark, but this one man seemed to be jotting down things in a little notebook.

He looked like a stereotypical poet, he was wearing rimless, rose-tinted glasses, and a black polo-neck and I couldn't resist asking what he was writing, as I too love to write in small cafes, and often find it more inspiring, and in a way, more peaceful than an office. Ask I did, and indeed he was a poet. He said that most of his poems were unpublished, but that a couple had made it into a small parisian publication. Perhaps, in amongst those sunglasses, those deep discussions, to a soundtrack of a mixture of modern jazz and African tribal music, the thoughts of the next Sartre, or Camus were being fermented before my eyes, or perhaps I had just stumbled upon a lot of pretentious literary students having fun playing the philosopher. Either way it was a fantastic experience, and one I treasure.

If anyone ever asks me why I love Paris, or why they should visit Paris, and they don't think that it being a beautiful city is a good enough answer I tell them this story, or of one of the many other unique experiences I have had there, and normally they simply nod, and smile. Whether it is in agreement, or in the typical manner you look at a madman, or someone you don't understand, slowly backing away, I don't know and don't care, for I will always love Paris, even if there are a lot of tourists with bumbags!

I hope that this was enjoyable for at least some of you, and

until next time dahlings, that was me...

Another beautiful day in Paris...

So all is well once again with the world. Thank you for the advice J, I may just take you up on it...

Talking of a road trip across Europe, I am very open to suggestions of potential stopping points between Paris and Budapest, which is our eventual destination ("just get me to the church on time!!"). So far on the list of definite detours to make include somewhere in Champagne, to pick up 150 odd bottles of bubbly, Strasbourg, for a fabulous gourmet meal or two, Berlin, for some serious partying, and Vienna, for a night at the opera, presuming it is the opera season and we can get tickets...

What, you may ask, is all this in aid of? Well, it is really very simple, one only gets married once, or at least I hope to only get married once... So, a big blow-out bachelor party is required, and if we can do a few errands, such as pick up the champagne for the big event at the same time, then all the better...

For further suggestions you have time everyone, this is all more than a year away and will not be finalised for some time yet...

Until next time dahlings, that was me...

Welcome...

Welcome to my blog, which I am doing slightly out of rebellion, and slightly out of a desire to get back to writing something - anything - on a regular basis. I have been told that I will have nothing to write about, but then again name me a blogger that has anything to write about?

I am soon to be 27, living in Paris, planning my wedding and working in the restaurant industry as a sometime Maitre d'H and sometime waiter.

So tonight I will be sleeping on the sofa as I apparently I did something horribly wrong about 2 weeks ago, but was only informed of it tonight... To me this is weird, but hey, what do I know, I am a man...

I am at a stage in my life where I feel like I should have done so so much more and yet, here I am more or less where I was 3 years ago... Though one thing has changed, I now have some sort of responsibility... I am to be married in a year and don't feel able to look after my future wife. I am not stupid, I have been told, I am not lazy (at least not that lazy) and should be making something of my life, but here I am with my stupid dream of owning my own restaurant (which is not getting any closer) and in a year or two I will be responsible for the well-being not just of myself but of the woman I love... Talk about pressure.

So, this woman I love, who told me I would have nothing to write about in my blog, well, she is quite amazing, even if I am stuck on the sofa tonight, which, I will admit is partly my choice... Anyway, long story short, we had a huge fight about nothing... Our usual topic for the big fights...

Until next time dahlings, that was me...