My Heart belongs to.....
Paris.
I (like a lot of women) have to admit to occasional longings to be a french woman, or rather, more specifically, a parisienne. I never will be; I look rather more like an English carthorse than a slender french poodle, but dreams aren't rational. I wear a scarf occasionally and have french crushes when I read and watch as much as I can. And I dream of my alternate life where I live in Paris and absorb by osmosis the style and bugger you attitude they have. And occasionally I get to indulge in a visit to the city of Love (and stinky sewers, strange food that smells bad and mopeds swooming past as you try to cross the road. It's not personal, it's just Paris.)
This year we decided that a foreign jaunt was, at last, on the cards for our whole family. Where does one take a 13, 11 and 9 year old on their first foreign holiday? The seaside in Spain? Disneyland Paris? Florida? No. We went mad and found a house for rent in Chatou, about 12 km outside Paris. We went and lived a parisien life just for two weeks.
I wish I could recommend the house which in so many ways was ideally placed for living the dream, but there are problems with the place that I couldn't impose on you (ahem; English owner, no oven, electronic code lock and strange things going on. Nuff said) but we enjoyed our time around and about. I'm still in Paris, still holding on to the last vestiges of holiday time. Loading my photos today has given me a chance to go back in my memory and to remember....
The Eiffel Tower.... by day
and night.
Les Invalides. Love him, or hate him, but Napoleon had style.
Iconic views
Windows to shop in
And everywhere, everywhere style and science with just a hint (ok a wide stripe) of self satisfaction.
Can I create an everyday Paris in Liverpool? Can I be a parisienne in Woolton?
Or must I dream of my next visit and wait my time?
Thank God for Amelie.
I (like a lot of women) have to admit to occasional longings to be a french woman, or rather, more specifically, a parisienne. I never will be; I look rather more like an English carthorse than a slender french poodle, but dreams aren't rational. I wear a scarf occasionally and have french crushes when I read and watch as much as I can. And I dream of my alternate life where I live in Paris and absorb by osmosis the style and bugger you attitude they have. And occasionally I get to indulge in a visit to the city of Love (and stinky sewers, strange food that smells bad and mopeds swooming past as you try to cross the road. It's not personal, it's just Paris.)
This year we decided that a foreign jaunt was, at last, on the cards for our whole family. Where does one take a 13, 11 and 9 year old on their first foreign holiday? The seaside in Spain? Disneyland Paris? Florida? No. We went mad and found a house for rent in Chatou, about 12 km outside Paris. We went and lived a parisien life just for two weeks.
I wish I could recommend the house which in so many ways was ideally placed for living the dream, but there are problems with the place that I couldn't impose on you (ahem; English owner, no oven, electronic code lock and strange things going on. Nuff said) but we enjoyed our time around and about. I'm still in Paris, still holding on to the last vestiges of holiday time. Loading my photos today has given me a chance to go back in my memory and to remember....
The Eiffel Tower.... by day
and night.
Les Invalides. Love him, or hate him, but Napoleon had style.
Iconic views
Windows to shop in
And everywhere, everywhere style and science with just a hint (ok a wide stripe) of self satisfaction.
Can I create an everyday Paris in Liverpool? Can I be a parisienne in Woolton?
Or must I dream of my next visit and wait my time?
Thank God for Amelie.
Amelie is just fab isn't it , much watch it again soon.
ReplyDeleteSo happy that you are holidaying in a place you love so much. Enjoy those last lingering moments.
Lisa x