If you happen to be an expat living in a foreign country and you are looking for a confidence boost look no further than craigslist. I placed an advertisement searching for
love, companionship, a french teacher for Hugh and I twice-weekly until we are full noise Frenchies. The emails that flooded my inbox and spam folder were very flattering. I turned all Girlboss and went on a power trip demanding CV’s, head-shots and making quick judgements based on email font choice – electric blue size 14 font is getting you noticed for all the wrong reasons. I won’t lie it was a wonderful feeling to have locals declaring their desire to hang out with me twice a week. Suggestions of cafe dates, movies, market trips were coming thick and fast although no one offered warmed croissants as a study snack. Look I’m just saying Majorie, you were shortlisted into top three and pastry would’ve gotten you the gig. We ended up deciding on Maude. She will be arriving tomorrow night with quite the task ahead of her, bonne chance Marjorie, bonne chance.
SATURDAY SUBJECT: PARIS EST VERT. (Green)
Fol-iage me through this post and I will share our weekend fun…
We ambled along Canal Saint-Martin… it was tree-rific.
I was accompanied by a budding engineer keen to discuss the construction of the bridges and question how the dam and boat way worked.
It remains a mystery to me at least.
The 10th is full of street art and cool creative types…
Sadly not all of them are riding fixies, and thus my insty hip photo was ruined by a weighty mountain bike with heavy set wheels. No filter can compete with that…
Paperboy had been on our to-chew list for a while, so we decided to tick it off and get our lunch munch on.
“Can I take a photo of your shirt?” A question I can ask a guy and Hugh cannot ask a girl.
Waiting for food, taking photos of flowers, or is that corn? It’s florn.
A French plat is an assortment of delicious food, a great choice for the indecisive, and even greater choice when it comes topped with a pickle.
I got a pickle, I got a pickle, I got a pickle hey hey hey hey.
Brooklyn we go Lag[er] – if you get this you’re a legend, if you don’t you’ll join Hugh who said “this is the biggest stretch you’ve ever done”.
Hugh normally orders two meals which is beneficial for photography purposes and steal-a-bite purposes. We can cover a cafe’s menu a lot quicker than your average couple, humble-big-appetite-brag.
I would love a cold Parisienne blonde, I’m going to hunt one down and treat it right.
A studio down the rue had us contemplating a new print for above our bed. But we could not agree.
It was so great of our personal photographer to accompany us on our Saturday outing. His name is Marcus by the way and he stayed in our apartment with us for a week. He’s from Sydney, he’s Hugh’s school friend. As I was saying – our personal photographer Marcus.
SUNDAY SUBJECT: WHAT CHAT-EAU ABOUT ME?
I watched the movie Cinderella with my Mum (no shame) and loved it. Apart from the fact I thought the Prince could have been a tad taller. Any-who I was particuarly enchanted with the cinematography and Cinderella’s home so you can imagine I was squealing like a little piglet when we rounded a corner on a Sunday drive and I clasped my eyes on this…
Just twenty minutes out of Paris, and close to Charles de Gaulle airport is the Château de Chantilly and Chantilly race course (Hippodrome de Chantilly).
Just like the Melbourne cup and Christchurch races… sort of… at a stretch… they all have horses.
Official Horse&Hound photographer reporting for duty!
I don’t know if J.K and the producers scoped out Chantilly for the Harry Potter series, it is definitely the sort of place Fleur Delacour would’ve spent her summer holidays.
After horsing around and quickly drinking an espresso we left the ponies behind and trotted over to the Château for a frolic around the gardens and a interiors tour.
The garden covers a large area and unfortunately one of us is against walking long distances so we decided to hire a mode of transportation.
Our trusty stead…
I mean maybe we took some wrong turns, maybe we didn’t, maybe we nearly rolled into a creek how are you going to prove anything you weren’t there?
Alright off to scope out the Château decor and work out how soon we can move in.
The Château comprises a Musee established by one of the earlier owners. The art adorning the walls has hung in the same place since 1898. As part of the will of the Duke d’Aumale who bequeathed the property to Insitut de France he ordered that that none of the paintings were to be loaned or moved and that the art would form a museum.
Hugh would not stop harping on about the library…
And that was our weekend. After a thirty three hour trip back from Christchurch it was nice to explore Paris and witness the Spring transformation that had happened while I was away.
Bring on the heat.
Au revoir xx