Crêpes, icecream and a sunset - what more could you want?

The rue st andre-des-arts in the 6éme is packed with all sorts of restaurants, but for some reason I only ever go there for crêpes. So when I was in the area last night catching up with friends for the last time before I leave Paris (sad!) it was only natural that we stopped in at one of the tiny little hole-in-the-wall crêperies for a bite to eat.

Crêpes are pretty high on my list of must-eats while in Paris. They originate from Brittany, in the north of France, and traditionally contain just one or two ingredients, although most crêperies these days offer gourmet-style crêpes that contain everything from fetta to pine-nuts. The best place for crêperies in Paris is in the 15éme arrondisment, near the Gare Montparnasse, where immigrants from Brittany used to arrive and set up shop. Nowadays there are also takeaway crêpe stalls all over the city, which are especially good for late-night nutella crêpes on the way home from a night out (though true crêpe connoisseurs would probably be shocked at such an idea).

Despite their less authentic location, however, the crêperies in the 6éme offer an equally delicious (and reasonably cheap) taste of Brittany. Not being one to mess with a classic, I went with the basic egg-and-cheese galette, while my dining companions were a bit more adventurous, as you can see!

After dinner we grabbed some ice-cream from Amorino (the best icecream in Paris, in my entirely biased opinion. If you go there, be sure to try the 'inimitable' flavour - it's like heaven in a cup) and went for a stroll along the banks of the Seine while we waited for the sun to set.

There's not many places that can hold a candle to a view like that!

Happy weekending :)

Alice x

P.S. If you're in Paris and on a budget, most of the crêperies on st-andre-des-arts have lunch-time deals where you can get a savoury galette, a desert crepe and drink for about 10 euros: a great way to experience parisian dining without the dinner-time price tag :)

Art is all around (this is Paris)

I came home yesterday to discover that my courtyard had been temporarily transformed into an art gallery:

There's a children's drawing atelier that operates out of our basement and I can only assume that this was their end-of-semester exhibition, though the drawings are astonishingly good quality for children - I wish I could draw half as well!

For a few hours there was a constant buzz of activity outside my windows, as people streamed in our front gate to gaze at the lovely works - I managed to snap this shot at a relatively quiet moment (I was too afraid to take photos earlier on, as my camera is quite noisy and french mothers terrify me!) After awhile I went out for dinner, and when I came home it was all gone and silence had returned, with only this photo to prove that I hadn't imagined the whole thing.

Only in Paris.

Alice x

P.S. If you click on the photo it will take you to the full size file, so that you can see the drawings close-up. Some of those kids are incredibly talented - I wonder if I've unwittingly captured the first exhibition of the next Picasso?

Saturday Night Fever in Paris

Strolling down by the Jardin de Plantes on Saturday night I stumbled upon the most happening spot in Paris - this little paved area on the banks of the Seine, where possibly the most atmospheric ballroom dance class ever was taking place.

Tinkly music was drifting on the breeze and the couples were waltzing and twirling like pros, while boats cruised by and the sun set over the Notre Dame in the distance.

Sometimes Paris is so amazing I almost can't stand it.

Alice x

There's more to life than books, you know. But not much more.

Driving through Northumberland recently, I happened upon heaven disguised as a second-hand bookshop.  

Barter Books in Alnwick has been described as "The British Library of secondhand books" though in my opinion it's even better than the BL because you can take the books home with you! The shop is housed in an old railway station that is filled to the rafters with every type of book under the sun, as well as a little café, a children's area, and tons of reading space. After much coveting of the huge selection of first editions and out-of-print paperbacks I finally settled on a lovely old copy of "The Wishing Chair Again" plus two biographies (Helene Hanff & JRR Tolkein) - only the realization that if I bought any more books they wouldn't let me back on the plane stopped me from taking home half the store. 

If you're a lover of second-hand bookshops and anywhere nearby the Scottish border (I passed through on my way from Edinburgh to York) it's definitely worth the detour. Alnwick itself is a pretty town, perfect for a lunch stop, and as a bonus it has the added drawcard of Alnwick castle (which - for Harry Potter nerds - happens to be the castle that Hogwarts is based on). 

Off to read a book, 

Alice x 

(P.S. Title quote is from The Smiths' song Handsome Devil. Hurrah for pop-culture references.) 

and a rustle of tulle from the wings...

Last night some friends and I got all dolled up in our swishest frocks and headed out to the prettiest venue in Paris, the Opera Garnier. We had tickets to see Onéguine  (a classical ballet based on the novel by Pushkin) but as excited as we were about the show, we were just as interested in getting a peek inside the amazing building that is the Palais Garnier. 

Our tickets themselves were thanks to a parisienne insider tip which I'll share with you all (but shhh!): if you go directly to the box office at the opera house you can get "limited visibility" tickets for all the shows for super-cheap that aren't available online - ours were 10 euros! The view was a little bit limited from our seats, which were the back row of one of the boxes, but we found that we could always stand up if the dancers went out of our line of sight and then we could see perfectly. Which was totally acceptable for 10€! (especially considering a ticket to get into the opera house to sightsee when there are no shows on costs 8€- for the extra 2€ you get a ballet thrown in!)

The Opera Garnier is the building that inspired Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera (which also happens to be my favourite musical of all time). I kept an eye out for the phantom all night, but he didn't make an appearance, though his infamous chandeliers were glitteringly present. 

In any case, even if the curtains had never opened, it would have been 10€ well spent for a night out in Paris. Now don't you go telling everyone about those cheap seats - at least not until I've bought my next ticket! (I'm thinking La fille mal gardée in June - it was one of my favourite ballets when I used to dance). 

Happy opera-going! 

Alice x 

P.S. Onéguine was lovely, I definitely recommend it if you're going to be in Paris before it ends on the 20th of May.

London with Christopher Robin

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace - 
Christopher Robin went down with Alice. 
Alice is marrying one of the guard. 
"A soldier's life is terribly hard," 
Says Alice. 

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace - 
Christopher Robin went down with Alice. 
We saw a guard in a sentry-box. 
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks," 
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace - 
Christopher Robin went down with Alice. 
"Do you think the King knows all about me?" 
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea," 
Says Alice.

{Words by A.A. Milne}

Have finally returned from gallivanting around Britain, and am now suffering from severe tea & scone withdrawal symptoms which even croissants from my favourite boulangerie are failing to soothe. 

More on lovely london (including Shakespeare's birthday celebrations!) to come. 

A different Alice x 

Looking for Amélie's Paris

Some of my family from Australia are visiting me at the moment, so we've been trekking around all the regular tourist haunts. Yesterday the day dawned clear and bright, so we headed up to Montmartre in the 18th arrondissement to check out the view over Paris. 

The 'bohemian village' of Montmartre, with its clichéd cafes, dancehalls and perpetually starving artists, is one of the most recognizable images of Paris (after the Eiffel Tower, perhaps!) Made famous by films like Moulin Rouge and Amélie (called, more evocatively, Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain in french), its narrow winding streets are crowned by the breathtaking Basilique du Sacré-Coeur, built in 1873 in order to atone for the crimes committed during the reign of the Paris Commune. The steps leading up to the church are surrounded by large patches of lush green lawn, perfect for lying around enjoying the beautiful spring weather - as the masses of locals and tourists we spotted soaking up the sun yesterday can attest to. 

We wound our way through the crowds up to the top of the hill, but soon escaped the madness of the main thoroughfare for the calm of the back streets. We wandered past windmills, vineyards and hidden gardens, stopping along the way for icecream and coffee, and were just about to head back down when I caught this glimpse of the basilica. Though the building features prominently on every postcard-stand in Paris, seeing a sliver of it like this from a slightly unusual angle can still take your breath away. 

I can just imagine Amélie skipping down here on her way home, can't you?  

Alice x  

A rainbow of doorways

The locals in Asilah seemed to be having a competition as to who could paint their door the most beautiful shade of blue or green. There wasn't a single unpainted panel in town. I would have loved to have seen the local paintshop - I wonder how often they sell a tin of red or orange? 

Wouldn't these be wonderful to come home to after a long day? (I especially love the twin doors - I wonder who lives behind them?)

And then there's this view. 

But then again I've always had a weakness for sunsets over the ocean.

Alice x

Paint the town white and blue in Asilah

We were the only foreigners on the bus to Asilah, Moroccan seaside resorts not being a major tourist attraction in the middle of winter. Unfortunately, our intended destination's lack of popularity meant that we'd been sitting stationary in the bus station in Tangiers for an hour, since Moroccan buses, as a rule, don't leave until they're full. As the morning ticked by, the bus slowly filled up with locals headed for various destinations down the coast, and we finally got underway, only to discover a second idiosyncrasy of the Moroccan bus system - basically, you can get off the bus wherever you like. This had the result of turning what should have been a quick 40-minute journey into a 2-hour saga of continual stops and starts, as the bus pulled over at seemingly random intervals to drop locals off on the side of the highway - often with absolutely no dwellings (or any signs of life, apart from the occasional goat) nearby. 

Our nerves were already slightly frayed, then, by the time the we pulled up outside a ramshackle concrete building, with goats grazing peacefully under a faded sign saying 'Asilah'. We looked at each other with slightly raised eyebrows - was this the sophisticated costal resort town we'd been promised? There was no point in quibbling, however, as the bus had already departed, so, with noone in sight to ask directions from, we shouldered our packs and headed cautiously towards what we hoped was the centre of town. 

It got better. 

Smiles crept slowly onto our faces as we neared the medina - the costal breeze danced around us (a welcome feeling after a week in the desert) and then swept up to rustle the leaves of the palm trees which rose above white-washed houses. The whole effect, coming from the seediness of Tangiers, was astounding. We wandered, slightly awestruck, through the almost deserted streets marvelling at the buildings, which were painted in every shade of blue imaginable - from darkest navy to delicate cornflower. 

Stopping at a tiny patisserie we bought a little box of cakes and then climbed up onto the walls to watch the sun set over the ocean, the colours playing across the blue-and-white medina. Bliss. 

In the end, the bus-ride was completely worthwhile. 

Alice x 

The winding streets of Fes

Unlike Marrakesh, the medina in Fes didn't seem to have distinct areas for tourists and locals. While some streets were certainly more touristy than others, for the most part everyone was all lumped in together in a fantastic melange. The café where we had breakfast every morning was chock-full of locals hashing out the affairs of the day over a glass of mint tea, while tunic-wearing school children mixed seamlessly with tourists on the street. Vendors hawking souvenirs and leather goods squeezed happily in between stalls stacked with oranges and live chickens. In some ways I think this meant the city felt more alive than Marrakesh - you never felt like you were separated from everyday life. 

It was one of my favourite places in Morocco. We had breakfast in the same café every morning (I still dream of the freshly squeezed OJ) and then, after a quick glance at our map to choose a vague direction, we started walking. We walked miles and miles up, down and around the alleys of the medina, passing beautiful mosques, tiny hidden gardens, and gorgeous riads. The wonderful thing about Fes was how easy it was to spend a whole day walking in seeming circles, and yet never pass the same thing twice. (As far as we knew!) 

In between plates of couscous, we checked out the dye pits at the tanneries - they were dying red leather the day we were there, can you tell what the day before was? - as well as the amazing local pottery, which is blue and white and completely beautiful. (Sadly after much coveting I left without a single bowl, as I knew there was no way I could get it home in one piece. But all the more reason to go back, right?)

After a long days walking we were pretty exhausted, so the only sensible thing to do was to head straight to one of the rooftop restaurants near the main gate and soak up the last of the sun's rays over a mint tea.

Just thinking about it makes me long for Morocco so much it almost hurts. 

Alice x 

Pretty Parisian Peonies (or: "things I like about Paris")

{originally uploaded by maralina}

One thing I love about living in Paris is the flower markets. Having lived in a perpetually drought-stricken country town for much of my life, fresh flowers have always seemed to me like the most beautiful of luxuries. How wonderful, then, to be able to buy (cheap!) fresh flowers at a moment's notice! Every quartier in Paris has at least one florist - and then there are the flower markets, brimming over with colourful blooms at all times of the year.

{originally uploaded by victoria}

After my rather disastrous day yesterday, I decided that heading out to find some flowers today would be a sure-fire way of rekindling my passion for parisian living. And I wasn't disappointed - after much indecision, I settled on these beautiful peonies. (I'd been secretly coveting fresh peonies ever since Jo blogged about their significance in feng shui - not that I would ever admit to believing in that kind of thing. But hey, can't hurt, right?)

Ce sont trés jolies, n'est-ce pas? 

Happy weekend-ing.

Alice x

Gently down the stream

Last weekend (on what turned out to be our last sunny day for awhile) we headed out to the Bois de Vincennes on the outskirts of Paris for a picnic. After cycling all the way around the park (which is apparently 3x larger than Central Park in NYC) to make room for lunch, we lay down on the bank eating strawberries & drinking cheap champagne, and wondering if we could convince any of the little french children playing around us to teach us to speak french. (I struggle so much with the french language, so whenever I hear french kids talking I get crazily jealous: "look! she's using the imperative, and I bet she doesn't even know what the imperative is! why can't I do that?") 

The sunshine and champagne had obviously gone straight to our heads, because after lunch someone suggested hiring rowboats and rowing around the lake - and we all agreed! 

I assure you, it's not as easy as it looks! 

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream

Merrily merrily merrily merrily 

Life is but a dream! 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

What goes down must come up (or something like that)

I had originally only planned to do one post of Sahara photos, because really, seen one sand dune seen 'em all, right?

Wrong! I've decided I love these sunrise photos so much that I couldn't bear for you not to see them (despite their obvious similarities to the previous sunset!) besides which, I don't want to miss out on telling you about our saharan sunrise. So...

If it's possible, sunrise was even more magical than the sunset. After spending the night wrapped in blankets smelling suspiciously like camel, we were woken at 6am by the sound of our Berber guides clapping their hands outside the tent. In the pitch dark, we rolled out of bed and grabbed our stuff, which was pretty simple since we hadn't unpacked at all (by the time I'd gone to bed the night before it had been much to cold to consider changing my clothes, so I'd ended up sleeping dressed just as I was, including coat, scarf and beanie - which had the unfortunate side effect of ensuring that my coat smelt like camels for the rest of the trip!) The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to peek over the dunes as we made it onto the camels and set out across the sand. 

As we rode it grew lighter and lighter, the colours on the dunes cycling through a rainbow of purple, pink and orange as the sun climbed above the horizon and settled into a beautiful blue sky. 

I could have stayed there forever, but eventually the time came to get back onto the camels and head away from the dunes - there were many more things to see and besides, breakfast awaited! 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

The Sandy Sahara at Sunset (and other rhyming fun)

The road out to the dunes was the bumpiest yet, and our heads were continually battered against the roof of the van as we headed out to find ourselves a little piece of Sahara. Concerningly, at some seemingly random point our driver turned off-road completely, so that we were driving along the edge of the desert, dodging pot-holes, puddles, and the occasional wild camel, with no destination in sight. Finally, however, we spotted our 'camel-train' waiting for us in the distance. Hurrying thankfully out of the van and transferring somewhat awkwardly to our next (slightly smellier) mode of transportation, we set off into the dunes...

The van and any other traces of civilization were soon completely out of sight, and the only other signs of life were the hoof marks of camel-trains gone before us. After an hour or so (which was quite enough camel-riding for us!) we reached the berber tents where we were to spend the night. 

As the sun was setting rapidly, we quickly climbed the nearest dune, and then sat and watched the colours play out over the sands. 

This is the Africa I was looking for. 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

The many faces of the Atlas

Adventures in Morocco continued... 

We bid farewell to Marrakesh early one morning, and jumped in a minibus full of the usual suspects to drive across the Atlas mountains, destination: the Dades Gorge. I don't know what I'd been expecting from the drive, but the amazing variety of landscapes we saw took me completely by surprise. 

After driving through the farmlands and plains surrounding Marrakesh, we began to ascend into the Atlas mountains. At first the hills were lush and rolling... 

But the landscape gradually became more and more barren, and the temperature dropped... 

Till at last we reached the highest point of our trip and were surrounded, astonishingly, by snowy peaks! 

We left the snow behind (thankfully - I wasn't dressed for it after the warmth of Marrakesh) and descended quickly into the Dades valley, where the landscape was much less lush than on the other sides of the mountain, which excited us a little - we were reaching desert country!

After stopping for a break at the kasbah of Ait Benhaddou (a 'kasbah' is like a castle), which was apparently featured in several hollywood films including Lawrence of Arabia and Gladiator (no sign of Russell Crowe, sadly), we hopped back in the bus for the last leg... 

Finally arriving at the Dades Gorge just as the sun was setting and the changing colours were playing over the valley walls... 

Stay tuned - next up : camels, couscous and the Sahara! 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

Magic in Marrakesh: Part 2

We left off at the end of a rainy day in Marrakesh, with the sky clearing, the clouds receeding, and the sound of the snake charmers in the square.

Thankfully the next day dawned clear and bright, with nary a cloud in the sky. We set off immediately after breakfast and to get lost in the wonders of the souks, buying beautiful embroidered slippers, lanterns, silver-teapots and many many other completely unnecessary but wonderful things. Our aimless wandering through the medina continued till we left the souks and became so utterly lost that we began to get strange looks from passers by as we walked through the empty streets. 

It got to the point where we hadn't seen a single other tourist for over an hour, so, after unsuccessfully trying to navigate our way out of the medina using the sun as a compass (all that training in brownies was obviously lost on me), we admitted defeat and gave a young Moroccan boy who'd been trailing us a few coins to lead us back to the main square (which he did with ease). 

Undaunted, we had yet another orange juice from one of the many vendors in the square (our professed aim being to try the juice from every one of the twenty-something carts), then headed off in the opposite direction to find a mythical park that some travellers we'd met the night before had given us directions to. 

So we walked... 

and walked... 

and walked... 

Till we finally found this: 

An orange grove, a lake, and beyond, a view of snow capped mountains. 

(Which while undoubtedly amazing, was diminished in some ways by the fact that we knew we had 5km or so to walk back to the medina.)

In summary - a completely beautiful day, though we definitely felt we'd earned our couscous when we finally made it back into town! 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

Is that spring I see peeping out from behind that cloud?

"Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower." 

(Hans Christian Anderson) 

The past few days have seemed as though someone has flicked a switch in Paris - the sun is shining, the clouds have disappeared, and I've almost forgotten how devastatingly cold it was only a few short weeks ago. 

The beautiful, blissful sunshine is making me see everything in a different light, and I've been pulling out my camera to take photos of everything and anything, even buildings I've walked past every day for the past 6 months: 

The newfound warmth has also brought the Parisians out from their winter hibernations - the Jardin du Luxembourg was crammed on Sunday morning with people just like me gasping wonderingly at the weather, and smiling a little. 

It's funny how sunshine can make you smile. 

Keep it up, weatherman. 

Bisous, 

Alice x 

Magic in Marrakesh: Part 1

It was cold, grey and raining slightly as we left Paris, so I practically skipped down the tarmac with happiness when we finally landed in Marrakesh to be greeted by blue skies, sunshine and palm trees. After being royally ripped off by an airport taxi driver (as expected!) we arrived at the edge of the medina to be immediately confronted by all the clichés I'd read about - the touts, the snake charmers, the masses of freshly squeezed orange juice! We'd already booked our accommodation, at the lovely Hotel Ali, and I had scribbled down a rough map from the website, so we headed straight there - much to the dismay of all the people attempting to convince us that their families'/brother's/best friend's hotel was much closer/cleaner/warmer. (Really, warmer. One guy asked us where we were staying and when we told him he shook his head and told us that it was a very cold hotel, but, of course, he knew somewhere with much better heating!)

We ran straight up to the roof terrace, which had an amazing view of the main square, Djemaa el-Fna. Though the sun was still shining, there were storm clouds building ominously in the distance, so we headed straight out to see as much as we could before the clouds caught up with us. 

(The view of Djemaa el-Fna from the terrace) 

Unfortunately we barely even set foot in the souks before the rain started bucketing down and we were forced to seek shelter in one of the many cafés lining the square, where we ate the first of many amazing plates of couscous washed down with orange juice. It rained for almost 24 hours straight (we later learned that Marrakesh is experiencing one of its wettest winters on record - they apparently had more rain in October alone than they did for the past 4 years combined) and although we hastily bought umbrellas (having not come prepared for torrential rain!) it did put somewhat of a dampener on the first day of sightseeing. Luckily we had no fixed itinerary, so we were able to spend as much time there as we liked, sitting in cafés sipping mint tea and waiting for the deluge to come to an end. 

Which it did, in the early evening of our second day. The clouds rolled away, as quickly as they had come, leaving only a clear blue sky and some rosy traces on the horizon as the sun went down.

We ran around in the lovely rain-less twilight, finally experiencing the magic of Djemaa el-Fna as acrobats, story-tellers, snake charmers and henna-ladies (who told us that their henna would help us get a husband - do we look like we need one?) emerged from under their verandas and umbrellas to mill about. The main square stopped being a massive puddle we had to negotiate around and instead became an obstacle course, the game being whether we could get from one side to the other without being cajoled into buying dates, or orange juice, or having our fortunes told. 

As the light disappeared, turning from gold to blue to black, we crossed our fingers and wished for a clear skies and sunshine the next day. 

Part two tomorrow! 

Bisous, 

Alice x