Melting in the market – A day in my life.



image People are fascinating creatures. One of the things I have loved so much about being in Paris are those I've met on ordinary days. So, in the spirit of just being grateful for times when life is calm and embracing the wonderfulness of people, I thought I'd write a blog post just about a day in my life ...

It was going to be 39° so I decided to take myself off early to the biggest flea market in the world (which is not an exaggeration). Of course it may have been more sensible to stay in my apartment with airconditioning but where's the fun in that? The market is just outside the city. I took a taxi there because my silly wheelchair battery is running out of energy after nearly two years of carting my ass all over France. It would never have lasted going there, back, plus hours wandering around alleyways filled with treasures from naked statues of men, sexy chaise lounges and a rocking horse to die for. (more…)
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How Do You Know It’s Summer in Paris?

Summer finally arrived in Paris at the end of June. After freezing for more months than I care to remember and drowning in more months of rain, I emerged to notice the signs that tell me Paris and summer have again met. From arrondissement to arrondissement, from person to person, these signs will differ. I see my Paris as I do. It's not always pretty. It's definitely not perfect. It has to be seen with some amusement and sometimes you just have to think *'C'est la vie'. (more…)
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At least it’s Paris!

It's winter. She arrived in Paris two weeks ago. On the first night she discovered that her apartment had been rented to someone else - "Je suis desolée madame. Ce n'est pas de ma faute". Her new job (10 hour day nanny at €8 n hour) starts the next day - "The 4 children can't wait to meet you!" Her luggage is still somewhere at the airport and her French sucks. She's friendless. She's been paying for a hotel room, the cost of which is eating shark-like into her credit card (the one she has for emergencies). As she crawls into bed she checks her Facebook page to look for support from the loved ones she desperately misses back home. Among the kisses and hugs glares a frequent comeback from most in response to her plight:

At least you're in Paris!

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Oh Paris! Really?

Parisians and Paris never fail to give me something to write about. I find humour, quirkiness and curious disbelievement wonderment in practically every encounter, person and situation I come across. I walk past tiny shops and enter. I breathe in the history of those who were there before me and bought what I buy, decades before.

And then I open my mouth and shatter the illusion.

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