Hello readers. Sorry for lack of update but have been BUSY!

M and I headed back to Paris (I know – again! Ha ha – hard life) EARLY last Friday morning very excited about meeting up with the Lovedays and Lisa on Saturday.

After a very smooth and enjoyable journey on the TGV we arrived to a pearler of a day in Paris. Blue sky, sun shining, an absolute cracker. We dumped our stuff and headed in to the Latin quarter for a fantastic lunch and look around and then decided to brace the possible crowds and line up to ascend the Tour Eiffel, rationalising that we were unlikely to ever have a clearer or more beautiful day, and I’ve never been up. The line wasn’t too long (hour and a half? Or so?) and apart from the ongoing issue I have with people who don’t appreciate personal space (or, as those who speak Dirty Dancing might put it: “this is my dance space, that is your dance space. I don’t go into yours and you don’t go into mine”!) the queuing passed relatively quickly and then we were up.

Magical. Breath-taking. Beautiful. Amazing. And a whole lot of other adjectives. Was so definitely worth lining up for – and definitely worth the extra €5 to get to the very top. I also did a pee in the toilets on the very top – ha ha – i wee’d on the Eiffel Tower! Awesome!

Saturday morning involved a trip to some of the Parisian markets to stock up on cheeses, salami, bread, pastries, beer and wine in order to properly welcome our guests to France with a picnic lunch. We considered wearing berets and – for me at least – painting on a moustache, but decided that was going a little too far.

We met the Lovedays and Lisa (or, as we call them, Coco’s handlers) at the train station and it was so so great to see them. After many exclamations over how big the Coconut is, we wrangled all their luggage up and down several flights of stairs, through various metro stations until we arrived at the hotel.

In the meantime the weather had turned to shite, so our outdoor picnic became an indoor feast in the Loveday’s family room at our hotel. – Side note: This hotel (where M and I stayed last time too, great location almost on top of a metro/RER station and great prices) has what’s called a family room – two twin beds and another couch/bed with a trundle under it. It really was plenty big enough and comfortable when M left and I moved in too. Lots of cupboard space and even a little kitchen. The bathroom however is TINY. Teenie, eenie weenie. Which is not a problem, per se, but will have a bearing on events still to come in this narrative. So bear in mind that there were 4 adults and one baby all in one comfortable family room with the world’s smallest bathroom.

We all went in and walked around Notre Dame and St Germain and had dinner on the Ile St Louis at this great/crazy restaurant that serves you a medieval style feast – that starts with a HUGE basket of various sausages and salamis and bread and whole vegies for you to cut up. And all you can drink beer and wine.

Have a guess who loved that, just a bit.

The food was great but there was soooo much of it, and we were all stuffed to the point of pain by the time we left.

And then, as we were walking home, Lovers vomited into a garbage bin.

And so began the Plague of the Room of Death. Food poisoning? Gastro? Who knows. But Lovers went down, then Holly too overnight and Lisa the next morning. When M and I went up to their room, ready for a day of sightseeing, we found a hospital infirmary instead. Awful.

So we found them some drugs and water and took Coco out for an excursion to Les Invalides – a military museum, and Napoleon’s tomb. M had to leave to get back to Cannes for work, so it was a subdued night.

And then i got sick. Violent, unpleasant and revolting. AND in a shared room with the tiniest bathroom every inflicted upon paying customers.

The Lovedays, who were feeling better the next day, hit the town and the Lourve in particular, while I stayed in bed/on the toilet. Pasta in the room and a quiet night ended that particularly unpleasant day.

The next day, all on the mend, we headed off to do some shopping, visited Pere Lachaise (famous cemetery – Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf etc, very cool) stumbled upon a cool little lunch place....

And then some FUCKER stole my purse. From inside my zipped up bag that I carry across my body and FOR ONCE didn’t have on my lap on the metro, but on my hip. This evil douchebag also stole a bottle of Evian, Which is just petty and rude.

Rang M to start cancelling cards. Luckily this was my “travelling” purse, so it only had two credit cards, €90 and my bus pass....and some stamps now I think of it. BUT it had my residency “carte de sejour” in it. Bloody hell.

I then had the incredible pleasure of visiting not one but TWO police stations to try and fill out a police report. I’d like to convey the “helpful” conversation that transpired at the first station (all in French obviously) once i got to the front of the queue.
B: “My wallet has been stolen and I’d like to fill out a report.”
Bitch-face-unimportant-clerk-person-who-was-clearly-not-a-police-officer-and-therefore-has-an-inferiority-complex: “Do you have any ID?”
B: (confused) “No....my wallet containing my ID was stolen”
BFUCP: “You need ID.”
B: “But my wallet was STOLEN”
BFUCP: “Where are you from?”
B: “Australia”
BFUCP: “Do you have a passport?”
B: “er...yes...back at the hotel” ** a hotel which is on the complete other side of Paris btw!*
BFUCP: “You’ll have to go get it”. “Next person”
B: Fuck You. (I didn’t actually say that, but I thought it very strongly!)

I won’t bore you (further) with the details of the 4 metros and 2 buses, hour in line and stilted French conversation necessary to get the police report sorted out, but suffice to say once it was over, I soothed my rage with a Nutella/banana crepe and some quality time in Shakespeare & Co bookshop. Ahhh. Better.

Our final day in Paris was spent at the Chateau de Versailles which is amazing – I got to walk around with Coco zonked out in my arms, so cute. And a racing visit through the gardens on a golf cart impulsively hired by Holly was a fun – and spectacular – end to the trip.

We are now back home, showing the Lovedays our digs and having many a drink on the old Peter Balconio.

Stay tuned for more details – and pictures – soon!

Cool camera work - check out that shadow!

Sausage anyone?

Les Invalides

Cutest cheeky baby!

Versailles

O Verona

Well I made it to Verona and back – notwithstanding the train difficulties Friday morning.

And –in an amusing continuation to the saga, on my way home the train between Milan and Ventimiglia stopped.

Just stopped.

For about half an hour.

And then a voice came on and helpfully announced that there was a problem.

Yeah, no shit. I’m not a genius engineer, but I’m pretty sure trains are meant to, i dunno, move. Then, another half an hour later they announced that the “locomotor was broken. But they were fixing it.” Hilarious. (This was all translated for me by a helpful girl in my cabin.)

Luckily I had the world’s hardest to read book with me to keep myself occupied and – 9 hours later, I made it back home.

On that side note – I think I’m going to have to give up on ‘The Kindly Ones’ – it is sooo dense and heavy and hard-going. I’ve given it a red-hot go and I’m still only half way through it! Ridiculous! Admittedly I have read a few other books in between (Charlotte Roche’s ‘Wetlands’ – sent over from Hels, disturbing, rude, gross and sad. ‘Escaping’ lent to me by friend Marie, sad, funny and uplifting – a true story about a woman who eventually runs B&Bs in Provence. Dawkins ‘The God Delusion’ recommended by M and read as part of our fiction/non-fiction swap thing we are doing – he has read Tim Winton’s ‘Breath’, McEwan’s ‘Saturday’ and is now reading Victor Hugo’s ‘Les Miserables’!! Colour me impressed!) I also re-read ‘Deathly Hallows’ and ‘Breaking Dawn’ ....both for about the 4th time...... But anyway – am putting nasty Nazis and death and German Obersturmbannfuhrers away for a bit.

Back to Verona.

Had such a brilliant time. Kate’s hotel was just near the train station and a 15-20 min walk to the heart of the city. Verona is so pretty and we were blessed with amazing weather for the weekend after a bit of drizzle on the Friday.

I did all the touristy things: The Arena, Juliet’s “house”, the famous church San Zeno Maggiore, the Piazzas, the Castelvecchio fort and museum, walked around the old town, ate lots of gelati, and drank plenty of Prosecco (Italian champagne) and red wine.

We also had some of the most delicious meals ever. EVER On Friday night we went to a gorgeous little place called “Antica Bottega Del Vino” – Kate had been before and not only is the food delicious ( I had Ravioli della casa – amazingly delicious and then meat braised in Amarone – which is the local red wine, with polenta for main and Tirimisu for dessert ...yuuum) but they are renowned for their wine collection and the lovely waiter offered to show us their cellar where there are over 35,000 bottles of wine – including a pretty impressive collection of Penfold Granges and a Cognac worth €50,000!!It was an absolutely divine meal – and the $20 a glass red was pretty tasty too!! (Damn that Euro conversion rate...it hurts!)

On Saturday night we went to “Il Cenacolo” which has no menu, just a degustation with wine included and most of the food is cooked on an open fire that is in the middle of the restaurant – way cool. We ate: Bruschetta bread with prosciutto, roasted vegetables, polenta with gorgonzola, fried buffalo mozzarella with cherry tomatoes, basil and peppers, the BEST risotto e funghi with truffles I’ve ever tasted, homemade ravioli and THEN they served a mixed grill plate (sausage, pork, lamb, chicken, meat on a stick) and THEN some roast lamb and potatoes. And THEN we got to decide what we wanted off the dessert cart, then offered coffee and biscuits. Kate and I were too full to really touch the meat platter or roast lamb/potatoes – which we knew would kill M if he knew about it, but we were both full to bursting. Although we did manage to fit in a very small serve each of tiramisu, but as everyone knows, dessert goes to a different place in your tummy! We were both literally groaning as we waddled home. Gluttony. It’s a killer.

All in all, it was a great 3 days, we had so much fun and I really enjoyed seeing Verona and all the well dressed Italians and all the less well dressed tourists (so much sneakers and jeans *shudder* why won’t people LEARN, buy some flats or trainers but leave the sports sneakers in your gym bag people!!) on that rant – it really annoys me that SOOO many tourists don’t even learn the very basic Italian words – like grazie and per favour, si, no, mi scusi – it aint hard, it’s not like Chinese or Greek or Russian! It’s the same alphabet! At so many cafes and restaurants British tourists would only speak in English – even at Gelati shops – where the sign says “caffe” or “limone” – they’d say “coffee and lemon” – for goodness sake! It really got to me! I don’t speak Italian, but i learnt a little and tried! Therefore I am awesome and all these other people are cretins. Clearly.

To Kate - thank you for letting me stay and for bringing my bag of summer clothes (yay) and the TimTams and Haighs (double Yay – the ChocApricots didn’t survive the train ride home. Sorry M!) Can’t wait to see you in Croatia in August!

Verona is awesome.

Katie!

Drinking Prosecco - delicious!

Visiting the wine cellar - amazing!

Delicious dinner

The Arena

Piazza Bra

Castelvecchio Museum

Me, squinty girl, up on the wall of the Castelvecchio

Castelvecchio

I love books, and this shop was cool.

The inside of the Arena. Less 'Gladiator death match' nowadays, more Carmen and Turandot - and rock concerts.

Inside the Arena. Slightly more Gladiator-y.

Casa di Giulietta - Juliet's House. Totally bogus, historically (the balcony was added in the 1930s!) but interesting enough.

Basillica Di San Zeno. Couldn't go in past the cloisters as it was a Sunday and people were there for a service. Highly inconvienient. Didn't they realise there were tourists who wanted to take photos? sheesh.

Off to Paris on Friday morning to meet up with Holly, Lovers, Leisa and COCO!! Can't wait.

TTFN.

Why the French transport system makes me want to slit my wrists

** Warning for foul language! And I aint talking poultry!** You have been warned!

It's 5.15am here.

I've been awake since just after 3.00am.

Nope - not another bout of insomnia, I got up at this ungodly hour (it's only ok to be awake at that time if you haven't been to bed. Getting up after only 2 hours of sleep because despite best intentions to go to bed early you had to straighten your hair after the hairdresser decided to embrace the Carol Brady/Farrah Fawcett blow dry and THEN give yourself an emergency pedicure/medical intervention as your little toe's toenail has bloody well fallen off!!....another time.....) to catch the earliest train to Italy.

So we got up and walked - in the pouring rain (ha ha to all the people wearing designer gowns today!) to the train station. No buses that early, that would be far too convenient. M walked me as he didn't want me bumbling along alone. Aw. sweet.

Got to the train station, bought ticket and waited for the 4.30am train.

And waited.

Noticed that the electronic sign wasn't displaying times, but it often doesn't, so no biggie.

Waited.

Went to look at BIG timetable printed and displayed.....nothing amis there. Then noticed a very small sign saying "Journee du Vendredi 15 mai, suite a un mouvement social regional, la circulation des trains est perturbee."

Which translates to "we are c*nts".

Strike action. Today. NO trains going from our La Bocca trains station AT ALL, earliest train leaving from Cannes? 6.46am.

I hate French bureaucracy. Bloody Commie Unionists. Blah. I'm gonna punch a train driver in the kidney today, ninja style - very stealthily.

And am now wondering whose brilliant idea it was to strike for 2 days during the Film Festival, when there are tourists EVERYWHERE. Idiots.

And my hair is totally fluffy and ruined from the rain.

Fu-ck.

Cannes has gone a little mental

So, the film festival has started.

And it is CRAZY town here.

M and I went in last night to have a look around and there were people everywhere! A lot were very beautifully dressed, a LOT had cameras in various shapes and sizes and there was a lot of gawking at anyone who maybe, kinda, sorta looked famous. Which is quite a lot of fun!

We did see one "famous" (we think) person - the girl who is 3rd from the left in this photo! I don't know who she is - I think she is French, but we saw her getting into her car surrounded by camera flashes and she is standing here with the Festival Jury and President, so she must be someone! Zing! That counts!

Other than that, no Brangelina/Johnny Depp/Penelope Cruz/George Clooney spottings as yet - and honestly, if you could see how many people there are, it's pretty unlikely!

Last week was very busy socially: Grant's (an American friend from college) birthday dinner and drinks then dinner and drinks the next night for my lovely Aussie friend Marie, then the night after farewell drinks for the charming Riccardo, who used to work at Thales and is friends with us and the boys who live upstairs and a whole lot of other nice people and, in a weird coincidence, lived next door to Marie and her friend Hannah, and Marie now has his apartment. Small town Cannes!!

Also, I went out for a drink with Marie on Tuesday night this week and we met up with two guys - one Aussie and one pom, who are here as they work on the GINORMOUS yacht "Octopus" which is owned by Paul Allen, co-founder of Microsoft. By ginormous I mean - two helicopters on the top deck, 60 crew, pool, another little (ha!) boat babushka-doll -like kept inside (it's called a "tender" - ooh, I learnt fancy terms) jest skis...ah, just Google it, it's mind blowing.

Here is a picture:

Suffice to say, this just upped the ante yacht wise. And there are lots more - not quite as big as this, just sitting out in the Cannes harbour. Enough to make you sick.

Sick with burning burning jealousy and desire.

The guys were lovely though, the pom, Christian answered all my many questions AND let it slip that they will be hosting a few parties on board which some BIG stars **JohnnyDepp** and others are possibly attending. Jelly. So so jelly.

In other news bytes

• I am off to Verona tomorrow to spend the weekend with my best girl Kate. I am embarking on a train riding odyssey (well, only 7 hours, but I AM starting at 4.30am!) so hopefully all goes well. Per favore!
• I have been asked to help out waitress at a fancy villa party on Monday night but am still unsure of he details so will let you know if (A) it goes ahead, (B) if anyone famous is there and (C) if I drop anything on people
• Job front looking a little more promising. Slowly slowly, but have been bolstered by two AMAZING references from Claire and Malcolm, both are positively glowing and Claire's left me a little teary. Not even mum likes me that much. And I'm her favourite!

Will have lots to show + tell when I return next week, until then, Arrivederci!

The proof is in the pudding....er....rice.

Just thought I'd share with you all that the "camp-food-philosophy" truly does exist.

For the second dinner on our hike, we had instant tomato flavoured rice with a can of tuna in it. At the time I thought it was delicious. So so so tasty. Loved every single mouthful. Food for the gods. Almost licked the bowl.

So yesterday I decided to buy a packet of the exact same rice. I always have tuna at home.

Just made it for lunch.

Not good. Not good at all. Have forced myself to eat about half.

Going down the street now to buy a baguette and maybe an eclair...........

Hiking: The Verdict.

Ok, so I'm back.

We got in last night and in keeping with a promise to M, I haven’t recorded my thoughts about the trek until now.

Keep in mind that the promise to M was made because at one point when he asked me what I thought of the ordeal, I told him that it was the most hellish experience ever and that I’d rather be having an intrusive gynaecological exam in front of everyone I know (I was possibly clambering uphill at this point.) M remarked that you don’t ask a woman in labour if she likes having children. Nice analogy. Childbirth and hiking. So I have taken time to reflect.

Here’s the low down.

We headed off early on Friday morning to the start of our trek in Castellane, which is a small village nestled in the Verdon Gorges, alongside the Verdon river, about 2 hours out of Cannes. Our partners in crime were Luca (Italian – works at Thales) his wife Katia (Russian) their gorgeous puppy dog Charlee and Olivier (French – works at Thales) so it was quite the multicultural excursion.

The hike went for 3 days and two nights.

It was possibly the hardest thing I’ve done physically in...oh...ever.

I also realised about half way through the first day that the last time I went hiking with a large pack on my back was year 9 camp. I mentioned this to M and he said “but you didn’t go on camp with the year 9s last year” and I laughed and said, “no, dipshit, when I was in year 9, - like 1994”. So after an enjoyable 4 hour hike a few weeks ago, it wasn’t that I was jumping ahead and doing the whole ‘run before you can walk’ thing. It was more like ‘sign up for an extreme Iron Man when you are still in nappies’ kind of deal. Silly. And packs are HEAVY.

So the Good:

• M was so so so so pleased that I came. And it was lovely to spend the time with him and get away from it all. (what I, as an unemployed lay-about have to get away from, I’m not sure, but you get the idea.)


• The scenery was amazing, truly breathtaking and we got to see views that you just cannot experience unless you go by foot. See below for beautiful photographs that do not do the views and sights justice.


• It was lovely to get to know Luca, Katia and Olivier better – and to hear all the different languages flying about.

• The actual camping at night – preparing the fire, cooking dinner, special dessert treats, (which, with camp-food philosophy, were the greatest meals I’ve ever had) a nip or two of Cognac, putting on an extra 3 layers of clothing and hitting bed by 10.00. Great.


• I am really proud of myself. Sounds lame, I know, but there were many times where, if I’d had the choice I would have given up, but as there was no choice, I had to keep going. And I did it. So therefore I rock. Go me.


• The feeling as we could see Castellane in the distance, and I knew we were nearly finished. Euphoric.

The bad:

• The first day was 90% uphill. So much f-ing uphill. I reached a pain barrier/wall/end of tether, what have you where I was literally trying not to cry and came about thisclose to losing my shit. It was hard going. I was cursing under my breath and singing any song I could think of to myself to keep the legs going. Bizarrely, the most effective was “Climb every mountain” from Sound of Music. Ironic, no?


• The second day was a lot of steep descent, which you’d think sounds great after my above rant against incline. Unfortunately my toes had surrendered their territory to blisters. Big, angry muthafuckers of blisters. So every, single, tiny, step down hill was painful. Again, after lunch on the second day, when I’d felt two blisters burst into my socks (ew) I had had enough.
  

So – the verdict.

I liked it.

Despite the pain – which I’m still feeling. And the blisters – which I’ve just spent 15min “lancing” (read: bursting) with a pin. Gross. It was worth it.

Would I do it again? – Maybe

Do I actually like hiking now? – Nope. Still think it’s stupid. BUT, I’m warming up to it.........

Still smiling at this point. Check out the church at the top of that hill!

Luca, Olivier, Katia (with Charlee) and M. Ready to rock!

Passing through beautiful French countryside

We got up high pretty quickly!

Still smiling though!

And we’re up! It’s hard to see, but in the middle of that hill in the distance is a building.

This is the building – an old church!

Inside the church.

Jesus carrying a lamb up the hill to the church. Mmm, lamb. And Jesus looks kinda girly here.


A) High up. B) Steep. Logical place for a church? Su-re.



Walking into a little village to fill up our water.




Cute French village

The happiest hiker in the world. (Happy to be sitting anyway...)

Looking back at where we'd come from.

Setting up camp and gathering firewood.

Our tent – actually quite comfortable.





Heading off the next morning


Down the hill – to Rougon – a little village

You get a sense of how high we were up – the river and the valley floor are just visable

Drinking and cleaning at the old springs - so refreshing.

Rougon = picturesque.

Yup. It’s a loooong way down.

And we’re down. Hells yes. Beautiful freezing water to rest aching feet in



Our next activity apparently....


Off again – back up unfortunately.

And randomly, we found a Tibetan Monastary/Hippie Commune place. Odd.

Setting up camp for the second night

3rd day – on our way towards the finish line

Never, ever been happier to see a road sign! Finished!!

Thanks for stopping by!