Well Friday night Stephanie and I ventured to St Michel in the hope of finding an underground jazz bar hosted in an ex-dungeon. We did find it, and the live music was pretty good, the crowd seemed pleasant and it was full but there would have still been room to sit down. We decided against it on learning that drink prices downstairs (thus by the live music) were almost double the already-expensive price list of the bar upstairs. So instead we ended up at the Le Who's Bar by Notre Dame.
The bar was nice, the live music was no jazz (they mainly did cover songs along the likes of U2 and The Beatles) but the atmosphere was upbeat and drinks were flowing... but the men, eugh. It's no secret that French men are more often than not far too sure of themseves and their own irresistability, but this bar was full of this sort. I will say that my friend had a good time hehe, and I met one French guy who was not sleazy or arrogant but listened intently to my broken French as I explained about my boyfriend in England and (cheese alert) how in love we are. He didn't speak a word of English which was great as it meant I really had to try hard to use my French, and we understood each other really well. The poor boy is a hopeless romantic and still in love with his ex-girlfriend, but maybe I could set him up with one of my lovely au pair friends?!
Eventually we decided to leave the bar and begin the mission of getting home. And it was most definitely a mission. After hailing down a bus which took us in the wrong direction, and then continuing to walk in the wrong direction, we finally realised our mistake and followed the Seine until we arrived at Rue de Rivoli and the Jardin des Tuilieries and caught the first metro at 6am. I tumblied into bed at 7 in the morning, and slept most of the day!
Saturday (once recovered) I attended the Champs Elysées Christmas market with Stephanie, Adrianne and Annika. Having forgotten about the crazy amount of tourists present on a Saturday evening in Paris, I tutted unappreciatively at their slowness and general shuffling about. You see, I am no tourist, I consider myself half-Parisian already and act accordingly (this means moving people out of the way whilst uttering the occasional "pffft" sound). By the by, this pfft sound is most certainly one of the most important "words" in Paris. It is, I have learned, used to suggest a nonchalance attitude (as I ask my host dad a question, he kindly shrugs and says "pffft, bien sur!"), and can also be used to portray a feeling of discontent and annoyance. If you're ever in Paris, use it well, it will gain you respect I promise (they will see you as one of their own).
Christmas Lights on the Champs Elysees leading towards the Arc de Triomphe
After indulging in some much-needed Vin Chaud, we took the metro to Abesses where we climbed up the hilly surroundings and stopped at the Place de Tertre to further indulge in Chocolat Chauds and Verres de Vin.Our spot outside directly overlooked the Place de Tertre and accordinly the beautiful Sacre Coeur in the background, and the waiter was extremely French ("Bonsoir les filles!) and cheery. Weather-beaten artists walk around asking Voulez-vous un caricature? Un portrait? And then shoot you unhappy looks as you shake your head and say firmly non merci! Truth be told if I had any money I would get one, how quaint right by Montmartre these French artists, even if some be amateurs! We stayed here for almost 2 hours people-watching and practicising our broken French. The couple next to me ordered snails and oysters, which was intriguing and the first time I have seen someone eat snails since arriving here.
Place de Tertre in Montmartre
And voila, there is my weekend for you. Paris is even more stunning when enveloped by Christmas lights and the city is charming as ever.
Bisous
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