A Walkabout in Paris

Paris is not a place to walk around in a pair of tattered old shoes with no brandname. But around Paris I did, acutely aware that the heels which started giving problems in Amsterdam were going to make a hasty departure in Paris. But the heels clung on to dear life throughout my trip. In fact, it survived the vineyards of Bouzy and made it with aplomb at poco-poco in Paris.

Inching along Champs-Élysées, a five minute walk from our cosy little hotel, in search of a decent bite, brandnames upon brandnames jumped up at me. It is not a place to be if you can’t pronounce, never mind afford the LVs, the Chanels or Christian Dior , Christian Lacroix, Yves Saint Laurent, and Van Cleef & Arpels, to name but a few.

It was an unusually warm afternoon in Paris and in fact the whole of Europe was bathed in sunshine, so out came my sunglasses; a five-dollar fake something from a marketplace in Siem Reap. Through the tinted glasses, I could see that almost everyone was carrying an LV, the way people carry the Primark carrier bags here. I was again acutely aware of the bag with no name, clinging faithfully on my shoulder.

The Parisians, I must say, have style. They are chic from top to bottom.

We made our way to Notre Dame near the Latin Quarter and the famous Shakespeare’s Bookshop. It has always been my favourite eating place but we dilly-dallied, taking in the promise of sales from the shop windows, mentally working out Euros in pound sterling until the sun disappeared from the horizon and rendered the Arc de Triomphe even more majestic at night.

Notre Dame is magically transformed at dusk; the lighting does wonders to the Parisian sky, reflected in the Seine as cruise boats ply the tourists to take in the sights of the French capital. Lovers at street corners, on benches and along the bridge swayed and cuddled to the beat of African drums from the sidewalk.

From the 388 eateries offering kebabs to sushis and seafood galore, we found a halal Moroccan with couscous and chicken tagine. The place was indeed a tourist attraction, and if there was anything to learn about tourist attractions, this is the place to see and learn. There is no use opening up big restaurants where there’s no character and no soul.

That night, almost midnight, we decided to walk back until our legs could no longer carry us. But before we gave in to hailing a taxi, we took in Paris by night, stopping to admire the bridges and the Baroque architecture. Cutting across the park, with its numerous statues, we were mesmerised by Eiffel Tower in the distance, which started shimmering against the summer sky. It was quite a sight that halted the treks of most walkers; whipping out their cameras to capture the moment. Alas, for amateur photographer like me, Eiffel Tower emerged a big white blob. Apparently the Eiffel Tower light show lasts for ten minutes every hour and we caught it just before midnight.

Here's one I got online:

The Eiffel Tower Light Show

Suffice to say, this trip took me to several places I had never been before such as the magnificient Chateau de Versailles or The Palace of Versailles to see its beautiful gardens. There were miles and miles of queues from every direction. And then there was Jardin du Luxembourg, a garden populated with statues and a large lake for sailing model boats. Apparently these model boats are not remotely controlled and are modelled on the original boats that sailed with the power of the wind.

Crouching Tiger Actress + Famous Shoe Designer = Malaysis's Got Talents

As if to put a perfect end to a very interesting trip, the bonus on the last day was a meeting with Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon actress, Michelle Yeoh. The jet setting actress had just returned from the Cannes Festival, before setting off again to Hong Kong, or was it China and then back to Malaysia for a documentary. And not a bag under those famous eyes.


A Charlie's Angels Remake? In front of Versaille
Note to self: Time I get meself a new pair of shoes and perhaps a more effective eye gel.






Kak Teh's other adventures in Paris:
To Paris with a Mission

To Paris with a Mission

Autumn was already painting Paris with dashes of its golden brown colours when we arrived last weekend. The air was crisp and it was a few degrees hotter than the normal autumn temperatures. Just the right atmosphere for the mission we had in mind.

The location was strategic, the company was priceless; one who could read maps, knows her left from right and more importantly could say merci beaucoup and au revoir without flinching a muscle.

The mission: to muster all my culinary skills with what available ingredients we could get from the Parisian Chinatown and produce a meal that would put the spring back in the steps of a friend on the road to recovery after a sudden illness.

We waved goodbye to our husbands at Waterloo station last Friday and arrived Gare du Nord all excited at the prospects of an all girls weekend. The Citadines Apart’Hotel Place D’Italie provided just the right venue and after checking in, we embarked on a marathon metro ride that took us first to Notre Dame in search of food. Chefs must eat first before they can produce anything worth producing. We settled for chicken kebab oozing with fats and with that made our way to Pont de l’Alma – the place where the late Princess Diana met her death. There are still messages, lovingly written by her fans all over the world and somewhere amongst the scribbles, or perhaps washed away by the rain or faded under the glare of the sun, was a message by Kak Teh, hastily scribbled on 31^st August three years ago.

Dragging along five year old S, we made our way across the bridge to Eiffel Tower where people were queueing up to get their tickets for the ride up the famous tower. We settled for a bench to rest our tired feet while S had her ice cream. I watched amazed as tourists employed various technics trying to get a good shot of the tower. They squatted, they bent backwards, they rested on their sides training their cameras up what, at a close distance, looked just like a mass of cranes. Walking back across the bridge to take the metro back to Notre Dame, only could we appreciate one of the seven wonders of the world as it stood towering majestically over the Seine as the evening sun disappeared over the horizon.

Notre Dame at night is a totally different place. We found street performers commanding their audience with their impressive dance routine and roller blading. Across the street we found an empty bench in front of the Shakespeare and Company secondhand bookshop. We rested our feet again before venturing into the land of eateries, stepping over smashed plates in front of Greek restaurants. It was in one of such restaurant that I enjoyed a Greek dance with a Greek waiter some time ago. Tired and heavy lidded we made our way back to the hotel and immediately fell asleep.

The second day in Paris was the big day. Husband phoned to give directions to Chinatown, which turned out to be literally at our doorsteps. Chinatown is in fact Vietnamese Town; lots and lots of Vietnamese restaurants and delis – a sure reminder and legacy of the French presence in Vietnam. Avenue de Choisy is a beautiful tree lined street that reminded me of Penang.

The menu changed with every step that we took but after three supermarkets and a stop to quench our thirst with sugarcane juice, we settled for noodles, noodles and noodles with bubur pulut hitam as our dessert.

Mee hailam was the starter and our guest arrived on time and wiped her plate clean before demolishing the bubur pulut hitam. That seemd to be just what the doctor ordered, we noted.

While we chatted about this and that, I prepared the gravy for the mee bandung using prawns. We didn't relish going out searching for meat and decided to make do with prawns. And with some prawns left I made sambal tumis and used the remaining green leaves to cook with kicap. And we ate ourselves silly until it was time to walk our patient home to the bus stop. It was a wonderful seven hours that we had together and it was time well spent.

As the night was still young, we couldn't resist coffee and crepe with nuttela. What is a visit to Paris if we can't enjoy sipping coffee by the roadside? Mission accomplished, we decided to reward ourselves with coffee and crepe.

Luckily Sunday is a no shopping day in Paris or for that matter in any part of France or the continent. So, we checked out and walked along Boulevard Auguste Blanqui where there was an open marketplace and I parted with Eu35 for a shawl from a Pakistani who raved about Malaysia and his Malaysian sister-in-law.

L'Institut du Monde Arabe was our next stop and bearing in mind husband’s words, we went straight to the 9^th floor to enjoy the view of Paris. Lunch was cous cous with chicken at the self service Moroccan restaurant, served by a Moroccan who raved about Malaysia and Malaysians. Just for being Malaysians we got to be served at a self service restaurant, and we were given some free baklava. Then its coffee at the Abou Nawas cafe. We were really packing it in.

The last stop in the rain was the Mosquée de Paris - a beautiful mosque built in 1922 to thank the North African countries for helping the French in the first World War. We prayed with others from other parts of the world and we prayed for our friend to have a speedy recovery.