Finally dragging myself out of Paris after one last perfect day. Yesterday morning I found myself yet again on the steps of Sacré Cœur eating breakfast. For once it actually was not a croissant. In only a couple days the Basilica became a natural spot to escape to and watch the world go by. Even though I’m sorry to say a lot of it comes with a distinct odour of urine, but we can let that one slide. I went back one last time at night to literally see midnight in Paris (good movie that). It brings tranquility to see the world and it’s horizon stretching all around.
During the day I walked to the park of Butte Chaumont. This park is a goddamn fairytale. Paths large & small, fountains and creeks, benches and bridges, and happy folk strolling across the grass and through the woods. I could have spent all day exploring every little trail and reading my book on the grass.
“The Quarter”. It is also heartbreakingly expensive these days. Anyway, it’s a great area to walk around; there’s such a variety of fascinating little bits and bobs. I stumbled into a vintage second hand clothing store where all clothes were sold by weight. You pick an item, weigh it on the scale, and price it. How neat!
I ended up in the Luxembourg park that is grand beyond belief. And here’s a highlight. I sat myself down on a bench with my ukulele and actually busked. I had a little paper cup next to me and everything. AND SO. People actually gave me money! I feel so achieved. Just me & my ukulele.
it’s adorable to see you sing. Thank you!
It’s funny to see how much interest the ukulele attracts wherever I go. I cannot even begin to count the number of times people call out “ooh mini guitare!”, look at the uke and smile at me, or ask for a song during one day. It’s fun to be a character about town.
Another thing walking around Paris; most people seem to think I am French. Tourists come first to me in broken French asking for directions, locals randomly comment on the day or start up conversations, and some, after exchanging a brief ‘bonjour’, straight up enquire, “vous êtes Parisienne?” I will take this as a massive compliment. I’m not just a ‘bloody tourist’; I must be doing something right.
As the sun set, I took my last walk along the Seine and visit to the bookshops. From there I found my way to the more obscure Café au Chat Noir. Here, a substantial group of English speakers in Paris gather on Monday nights for literary fun, the Spoken Word. SO MUCH FUN. With a theme of sabotage, these people get so creative and hilarious (and horrendously inappropriate but that’s not the point). Not to mention the talent. This little outing made me want to cancel my train ticket for the next day.
Paris, you’ve been good to me. An absolute dream. But now I am on the train to Switzerland, excited to see mountains. My problem is that Switzerland is notoriously expensive and I didn’t realize until last night that they don’t even use Euros. I’ll have to bum it and not buying anything. So I’m getting in the zone with day-old 80-cent maple raisin pancakes (really good though, not complaining) and vending machine coffee. Funnily enough it was the best coffee I’ve had in some time. It’s a good sign!