If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.
Ernest Hemingway
{Trip Report – 12 June 2010)
Despite the patchy clouds and the rain drenched side walks, in our groggy jetlagged state, Paris, was exactly how we had remembered it to be, beautiful.
This time around, we had ourselves a lovely 3rd floor apartment on the Rive Gauche, in the very heart of Saint Germain des Pres.
We wasted no time to get acquainted with the City once again, bought a carnet of tickets, hopped on the Metro and headed to Porte de Vanves.
One of the main agenda of this trip for me was to explore as many les puces and vintage shops as I can manage.
Marche aux Puces de la Porte de Vanves is a typical french flea market located on the south side of the Left Bank.
We had a relaxing browse through stalls upon stalls of vintage treasures.
Checking out a potential buy. Notice the gorgeous vintage pink Chanel tweed jacket in the background?
Tested out my french by haggling with the stall owner. Soixante euros pour deux? (Sixty euros for two?) Non, non madame, cinquante cinq euros pour deux? (No ma’am, how about fifty five euros for two?) Lol… of course, I didn’t get to have my way when she started telling me how the necklaces have already been discounted from 80 euros to 60, in french!
These vintage road signs, after some spiffing up, would look amazing in our hallway! Alas, they were too heavy for us to lug it back home…
We returned to the apartment to freshen up. Nothing is more relaxing than a hot shower after being on a stuffy plane for almost 24 hours! We headed out the door to la plus belle avenue de monde.
Champs-Élysées on a Saturday afternoon is brimming with a glitzy swarm of tourists. We lunched, strolled up and down the avenue and decided that the weekend crowd was too overwhelming for our sanity. Crazy lines that snaked around the outsides of stores and when you eventually entered the store, you received an almost non-existent service because the store assistants were too busy charging the credit cards of Japanese tourists.
We caught the metro and rushed to Rue Cambon and managed to do a spot of retail before the shops closed at 7pm. No lines, offers of champagne upon arrival, much better.
We walked past the Tulleries on the way back and instead of golden and scarlet leaves covering the ground, this time around the jardin was actually lush, bright and cheerful.
Paris, the land where the word gourmet was born, is not without great food, of course. However, after a long day, you just want to have a quick bite and crawl into bed. What’s better than a fresh, warm crêpe oozing with Nutella??
Our favourite crêpe stall directly outside the Odéon metro. Nutella for me (biensûr!), jambon, œuf & fromage for Leo.
When the entire Saint Germain des Pres came alive that night, we slept and snuggled well into the next morning.
It’s a fearful thing to love what death can touch.
~ Anonymous
On a mild, balmy day in April of ’04, we answered an ad in the Trading Post and found ourselves in the backyard of a breeder’s house in Hampton.
And there it was, a litter of adorable furry littles in their grassy playpen. As we stood there uhm-ing and ahh-ing from a distance, an inquisitive baby bunny with the biggest, beautiful doe eyes came hopping towards us. She had a dark brown coat of shiny fur and a soft white marshmallow coat on her belly and a pom-pom tail.
She was beautiful, and we were in love.
Ecstatically, we took her home.
She was so little then that she could even fit into the palm of my hand.
I wanted to named her Snuggles, but that name could not roll out of my tongue, so we named her Snuffles instead.
She was quite the roadrunner, zipping back and forth in our apartment, hiding under the couch and maneuvering tight corners. Other bunnies are content with boring ol’ carrots, my baby, taking after me, had the ultimate sweet tooth and preferred munching on grapes instead.
Snuffles was with us through it all, roadtrips, moving from one cramped apartment into another, house guests, vacations, birthdays and anniversaries. She watched television with us every evening after work, and will follow us around in the kitchen when we rustle up dinners.
She was not only a part of the household, she was a part of our lives. She was our baby.
Leo built her an apartment from our old IKEA tabletop and later on when she outgrew it, we bought her a castle and lugged it all the way back from KL. Late night runs to the supermarket for food and litter, monthly vet visits and daily pats.
Oh, how we loved her.
22.02.2004 – 14.06.2010
Snuffles left us in the winter of ’10, 14th June, at the ripe old bunny age of 6 years and 4 months. We were away during the time of her passing, the babysitter did not want to dampen our trip, so we were not aware of it until a day before we were due to be back home.
There were no kisses, no final goodbyes; only shattering of hearts.
Life, is scarily fleeting, isn’t it?
The house is quiet now, there will be no thumping of furry feet, no rustling of dry hay, and no nibbling of toes for attention; for she now lies peacefully in a beautiful rose garden, under a warm bed of scarlet autumn leaves, in the good company of her other furry little friends.
No more seizures, no more teeth filing and no more vet visits.
Diphilus once said, “Time is a physician that heals every grief”.
He never did mention how much time. I say you never really get over the grief, there’s only getting used to.
Rest well and hop on away, my little one.
Love and miss you till it hurts.
Now, always and forever.
Bonjour à tout!
Greetings from Paris!
As a super early birthday present, I’ve had the chance once again to traipse the cobble stoned streets of Paris =)
Despite the long almost 24 hour plane ride, the biblical hives breakout from my what seemed to be an allergic reaction to anti-biotics, and spots of rainy patches, the city welcomed us back with open arms.
The past few days we have laughed, shopped, eaten, wandered and left footprints all over Paris.
More photos to follow!
The.best.chocolate.fudge. Ever.
Flourless, 100% dark chocolate. Perfect.
Leo’s home made chocolate fudge has been road tested by the fussy palettes of family and friends. And, of course, a big stamp of approval from me! I have finally kicked my Nutella addiction, but this, this is really something else.
I giggle everytime I look at this picture. Leo refused to give in to sore right arm muscles from all the batter whisking, and so he came up with this:
Our very own industrial mixer!
For those who are puzzled, it’s actually a metal whisker attached to a power drill. Brilliant, yes?
I’m thinking of secretly sneaking a line into his wedding vow that reads, ” And I will promise you, a life time of home made flourless chocolate fudge ahead…”
