Le Journal de +Louise

One of the many perks of being married to a domesticated god :)

Sorry folks, have been MIA for a loooong time, be right back!

After weeks of tweaking and mastering necessary Photoshop skills, our electronic save the dates have been sent out to inboxes around the world! =) So if you are reading this and have yet to reply with your mailing address, please do so!

Snippets from Run Melbourne 2010. Was planning on joining the 5k, but last minute knee injury got the best of me :( , so I did what I could, lugged around the camera and tried to hunt Leo down towards the finish line!

It started out extremely chilly but later turned out to be a magnificent day.

Can you spot Leo? =)

I have seen many runners in crazy outfits before, but the green man takes the cake! Not only was his bodysuit obscene, how did he breathe/see??

Batman(woman) is a regular at Melbourne runs, I struggle running even in lycra, but she had a full-on mask with a cape!

Baby did 10k in 1hour flat, well done! =) New York full marathon in 1.5 years; now that it’s in writing, no backing out!

We kicked off the morning by taking a jog along the Seine. It was slightly downcast with a bit of a chill, but the beautiful architecture and pure serenity before the city wakes up were enough to push us to run rounds around the block.

Morning workout was swiftly followed by a quick shower and then breakfasting at Cafe Neo, a French cafe/bistro not far from where we stayed. It was the usual standard petit déjeuner fare: jus orange, un cafe, croissant, omelette.

We were just in time for the 10am Sunday Gregorian mass at Eglise Notre Dame. Eventhough the entire mass was conducted in French, the sounds were hauntingly beautiful, and the interior of Notre Dame itself was breathtaking.

A prayer and a candle for loved ones…

Le Marais

Most shops are closed on Sundays, it makes wandering around Le Marais the best thing to do as most shops in that arrondisement remain open.

Around the corner from the Pompidou Centre…

An art gallery in the middle of Le Marais…

Nothing like provocative art in a public square…

We enjoyed a spot of lunch on the terrace of Cafe Les Arts & Metiers before heading to our next stop.

Cimetière du Père-Lachaise

Visiting cemeteries might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but since we were in the Montmarte vicinity, we decided to drop by Cimetière Lachaise, one of the most renown cemeteries in the world.

This grande cemetery is eerily beautiful, with spectacular works of art and is also the burial ground for famous literary figures, musicians, sculptors and also houses WWI memorials.

Oscar Wilde’s tomb – covered with kisses. I couldn’t help but giggled when an English woman walked past the tomb while a pack of girls were leaving their lipstick marks, commented, “This is absolutely preposterous! Look at the way they’re defacing the tomb!”

I wanted to leave my pucker mark too, but since I was suffering from a break out during that time, I decided not to kiss anything foreign, just in case ;)

Chopin rests here…

Edith Piaf shares a plot of the land with the rest of her family…

Sacre Couer Basilica

Sacre Couer is located at the highest point of Paris in the heart of Montmarte. Climbing the steps up towards the basilica was hard enough.

But Leo insisted on getting into the crypt and up the dome for a 360º view of Paris, only after 234 steps of dizzyingly steep spiral staircase.

The climb was worth it indeed.

The outline of the dome made this picture look as if the it were superimposed badly against the skyline of Paris, but I love it nonetheless!

Place du Tertre

Place du Tertre, a small Parisian square in Montmarte, just a stone’s throw away from Sacré Cœur, is filled with artists setting up their easels painting the day away.

We wandered around the square, looking over shoulders of painters, and had a gay time debating whether Paris looks more beautiful in summer or more romantic in rainy winter, as depicted on many of the oil paintings.

The sun was hiding behind the clouds that day, so befittingly, we bought a painting that conveyed just that and came to the conclusion that Paris is beautiful, come rain, come shine.

Got a little star struck yesterday as film crews transformed the entire footpath right downstairs from my work building into a 1970′s Parisian sidewalk.

Whispers about the great Robert de Niro making an appearance within literally a stone’s throw away from us were churned fresh out of the rumour mill in the early hours of the Tuesday morning. And if we’re lucky, the rest of the cast from the movie Killer Elite.

Row of vintage cars at the movie set…

A movie extra all dressed up as a french waiter =)

By noon, a crowd had gathered around the set. After much anticipation, there he was! Although his part lasted for probably 5 seconds, it was interesting seeing all the painstaking effort taken to set up a short movie scene.

It’s comforting to know that eventhough I might be oceans away from Paris, the cafe strip downstairs from work which can easily be transformed into a Parisian footpath, provides me with a slice of the city that I love, every day.

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.