And that's the final post of Sez and the city.

Tune in next week when this blog ceases to exist

Hi,
I'm actually gossip girl, so you can catch up at 8.30 on TV2.

Summer in Paris

Pie Interlude

City of Lights

Bastille Night

The French Bear-Dog

Bastille Parade continued...

"Un Vrai" Periscope

Bastille Day Parade

The Bastille day celebrations started in our quarter with a big African music concert in Place de la Bastille on Friday night. the same night, all across Paris, the fire stations held fireman's balls that anyone can go to. Apparently, the French are quite besotted with firemen, who are the nation's sex symbols.

The parade was huge with I think around 90,000 people there to watch (I'm not sure I have that figure right) It was the longest parade I've ever been to with squillions of marchers in every type of army uniform known to man followed by every single piece of camouflage equipment they could rustle up from their big tanks to what looked like camo street cleaners and rubbish collectors.

For some frenchies the parade is obviously an annual highlight. Jamie and Karina stood behind a 'parade spotter' who had a guidebook with all the different uniforms, furiously ticking them off as he spotted them march past.

The biggest hit were the firemen who were greeted with cheers and wolf whistles as they drove past in their trucks. I felt a bit sorry for all the meticulously dressed soldiers who marched along a silent crowd while the firemen got all the attention.

Literally every single person in France who has ever had any tenuous affiliation with the French armed forces at any point in history was in the parade along with all their planes, tanks and helicopters, so, as Jamie pointed out it would be a great day to invade one of France's other borders.

Noah Interlude

Just realised I didn't post this rad pic of Noah 'high fiving' Annie. Too cute.

Confit de Canard

If the next time you see us I am with someone you don't recognise instead of Pies the reason will be this: confit de canard.
Pies has found his heaven on earth. Canned duck cooked (swimming) in duck fat. It's expensive and hard to find in NZ but in Paris it sits on every supermarket shelf next to the the canned peas and tomatoes. Pies might live up to his nickname after a year in Paris! Oui Oui.

The french and Poo

So something we've noticed since our arrival is that French people seem to have no problem with the smell of poo. Our second hotel room on the 7th floor had a lovely view over the rooftops of Paris out to the Sacre Coeur and Montmatre. But it had a horrible, potent stench of poo that permeated the room despite our best efforts to get some airflow happening. Eventually Pies managed to track the source to the shower drain....I can't even put into words how truly vulgar the smell was. In the end, Pies used a bit of kiwi ingenuity and stuffed the drain with big wodges of toilet paper which alleviated the problem but meant that we couldn't shower. We were willing to sacrifice cleanliness for fresh air.

True to the cliche there is dog poo everywhere...and it seems to have been trodden on everywhere too and smeared across the footpath. I hate to think how many Parisians take a little doggy delight home with them attached to their shoe each night. Being absentminded, I always forget to keep my eyes peeled for the offenders so Pies has to walk beside me pushing and pulling me out of the way to avoid incident. Our apartment is just too small for Pies, me and a turd.

The third piece of evidence that confirms the French predilection for poo is the cheese. Already Jamie seems to have mastered the art of picking the most pungent varieties and bringing them around to our house to share. They are beastly. I seriously wonder how they manage to make something edible smell so much like an arse. C'est incroyable!! If you manage to figure out a way to block the nasal passage, the taste is none too bad but, even wrapped in its little box, all you need to do is open the fridge door to be hit by a wall of faeces particles that attacking your nostrils.

Cannes

When I wasn't gategrashing the Clemenger villa or lying by the pool in Golf Juan d'Eucalyptus (our village) I did manage to make it into Cannes a few times. Last year we met Frederic, an ex Parisian tennis coach who had moved with his family to Cannes and opened a little (about eight tables in total) restaurant in the old town in Cannes. We were so besotted with him last year we ate there nearly every day so we decided to return. The boys had had a couple of drunken nights with him so he recognised them straight away. We had a lovely meal there (actually the boys had a couple). We told him all about our new adventures in Paris and he made a pact with the boys that at the ad fest next year they must only speak to him in French. He is a lovely, lovely man and I recommend his little restaurant so if you're ever near Cannes email me and I'll tell you how to get there.

To market, to market

So one of my favourite things so far about Paris are the weekend food markets. They are hilarious. They are busy and bright with all the produce sellers calling out to you trying to get you to try their wares. And the taste is unbelievable. I had completely forgotten how a real tomato or cucumber should taste- I've become so accustomed to the long stored, over-chilled supermarket varieties.
And so cheap! I got two kilos of fresh figs for less than the price of one fig in Australia and in NZ you are hard pushed even to find one for sale anywhere. It is so so fun and I can't wait for the next time I can go. And the people are so lovely. I was 80 cents short for one stall and he said to me - nevermind, just pay me next time you come. How trusting is that! We follow our market trip with a stop at the boulangerie to pick up some delicious fresh bread and maybe a treat - a perfect french weekend morning. This is is what makes the trials of your day-to-day life learning the french way to do things worth it.

Villa - deux

Okay so I got so excited about the villa I had to take more pics....

Although check out the crazy french bug I found. He was so huge. I thought I'd farewelled the creepy crawlies (Hunstman spiders...eeep) in Sydney but this little man was amazing.

The Clemenger BBDO Villa in Cannes

No sooner had we arrived in Paris than we were off to Cannes for the ad festival. Pies had already flown down a day earlier on an impromptu visit to pick a Gold Lion. Good boy!

We had a lovely evening with a barbeque at the Clemenger villa up in the hills above Cannes. It was a beautiful villa with an amazing view over the town.

We had booked what we thought was a dirty ole hostel a couple of villages (15 minute bus ride) away from Cannes. Turned out for a mere forty-something euro a night we got a rad apartment that is bigger than our Paris apartment with a full kitchen, outdoor eating area and great swimming pool. I was so happy!! And it was a short walk from the supermarket (I LOVE foreign supermarkets almost more than anything else when travelling) and a rad beach. So the week for me was more about mooching by the pool than schmoozing ad people which was a good thing coz on the second day I got a cold and felt a bit poo anyway.

Bonjour Paree

We have arrived safely in our new home, Bastille in Paris.

It's a cool little area. Not 'bourgeoisie' at all. It's very multicultural and there are some cool boutique stores and loads of little restaurants.

Our apartment is teeny, but has french windows, white walls and wooden floors - I think it's really cute.

The worst bit is the bathroom (which incidently has a shower so small you actually can't bend over in it- bad luck if you drop something) because it is placed at the end of the bedroom and the door isn't really a proper door so you get a good view from the bed. So everytime I go to the loo I get a running commentary from Pies!

Here's the link to our apartment:

http://www.parisattitude.com/apartment.asp?numProduit=1336

We woke up the other day to the sound of someone drilling through the wall in our living room. Seems they have decided to renovate the stairwell and corridors. But all the little old ladies in the building came out to berate the builders en masse so it seems we have reached a stalemate situation and now our building looks like the picks attached.

We are close to the Place de la Bastille. On Saturday we left after lunch to go out returning a few hours later to find the Place (which is huge) had become a huge Gay Pride dance party. There were thousands and thousands of people and big screens and music and flags and the whole area had been closed off to traffic. We went out to dinner in St Germain and when we came back around 11.30pm everything had completely disappeared - aside from the odd piece of rubbish or rainbow flag you'd never know it had happened.

Picnic at Primrose Hill