Jari+Paris=Jaris

So, I returned to Paris because I was feeling down and I needed a fix: I'm starting to think I might not be able to fix this problem while still in France. It's like trying to quit opium while living in a poppy field. Or ninety minutes away from a poppy field. Or, indeed, just an opium den because it's not like I have to make the Paris myself. Anyway, I still haven't kicked the habit, is what I'm saying.

All my regular Paris chums were busy or out of town this weekend but that's okay because someone irregular was there.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

JARI!
Jari has his own Paris posse whom he had been neglecting for some years but when I took up residence nearby, he finally said 'ca suffit' and decided to come visit. He actually arrived on Friday, but I was 'working' (read: playing games with disinterested French teenagers) so met up with him on Saturday; we went to Notre Dame (of course) and I briefly introduced him to Shakespeare and Company (sadly, Dani wasn't there for me to show off). We hung in the lovely little park which is just opposite Notre Dame and was absolutely sublime that day.

Jari then went to get lunch with an old friend he hadn't seen for ages and I went to check in to my hostel, and met what must be the only hostel receptionist in Paris who doesn't speak any English; I don't mean to be anglocentric, but I would genuinely have expected that to be a requirement for working such a job. After seven months of having lived in France, I had just enough French to sign in and get my room key (after a few rounds of charades). After this, Jari and I reconvened and went for a stroll along a lovely raised-walkway-cum-public-gardens that my sister and I had found near Gare De Lyon back in January.

Yet again, there was something paradisal about this leafy promenade in the sun; there was a calming air about the place, no one was rushing from point A to point B, everyone seemed content to mosey and take it all in. It was absolutely divine.

After this, we went for crepes at a restaurant Dani took me to during my first weekend in Paris and which has become my favourite place to eat in the city. Then, we sat out in front of Notre Dame and tried to capture its terrifying nocturnal magnificence on our camera phones. Somehow, this didn't work.

It kinda looks like it's made of cardboard in this one.

The next day, Jari and I met for breakfast and then strolled around one of the less picturesque areas of Paris, where there was an absolutely colossal flea market selling just about everything. We were calculating the odds of there being something genuinely valuable there and, given the size of this bazaar, I wouldn't have been surprised had the arc of the covenant been revealed to be amongst its contents.
Afyer this, Jari went off to get lunch with a different group of friends and I went and read in Luxembourg park. Jari's two hour break suddenly turned into a three hour trip, and then a four hour sejour and then a five hour ordeal. Like many modern people, despite oft describing myself as 'an avid reader', I can't actually read for all that long and then I remembered that there was a poetry reading event at Shakespeare and Company- the same event I attended during my first ever weekend living in France. Since it was my final weekend living France and I am, by genetics, pre-disposed to appreciate symmetry, I decided to attend this event again. Much like the first time, my poems were very well-received and I was praised for my wit, turn of phrase and, in particular, my voice. The woman who runs the poetry event described it as 'lovely and refined' and Roseanne, a girl I met at the reading, said it was 'chocolatey and smoothe'; and since, as Mark Twain* said, 'I can live for two months on a good compliment', I won't need to eat again until August.
After the reading, I walked with Roseanne and some Americans who also attended for a bit before retiring to Gare du Nord to see Jari one last time and then catch my train.

It was a superb weekend, full of sunshine, laughter and ego boosts. This may be my final visit to Paris for some time, so I'm very glad that it turned out so well, but I am a bit sad that I didn't get to bid farewell to the people who have made my frequent trips there so enjoyable- I'd list them all, but that would feel cheap, especially after I did that just last month to the folks in Edinburgh just to get views, but if you're reading this and you're one of my Paris friends, thank you- hopefully, I'll see your city and you again one day.

*Who died 105 years ago this very day.

In Summer

I blog so often about far-off places and exotic locales- like Paris and Edinburgh and Paris again and Edinburgh again- that it's easy to forget about my own base-of-operations, Laon.
I only actually have one weekend left in France now, and this weekend will hopefully be spent with Jari, so I decided to spend these past few days exploring Laon and taking a few photographs, if for no other reason than the weather was absolutely gorgeous.

First, I discovered that Laon has a Tennis club. And a dog training club. And they share a facility.

Note that, despite the proximity to a main road, there is no road leading to that complex. I have yet to figure out how one accesses the compound, or, indeed, see anyone there.

I get the feeling that maybe once upon a time, there was more life in Laon and that we're in something of a dead period at the moment, so maybe the tennis/dog enthusiasts will come back in force one day.

My next discovery was a delightful little park wedged between two of the more hidden streets in Laon. Emphasis on little.

It's really just a glorified path between two roads, but I like that they put in the effort so you can't see the rest of the two while there and maybe even relax a little in the middle of the lower town.

Finding this park reminded of this time last year when Poppy and I would laze around in the meadows and get sundrunk. We'd read, tan and bitch about our employer, a can of cider in our hands, a worry about the future in our hearts. I became wistful. As Poppy put it:

"I want the meadows and a long summer with nothing to do and a vague reality of a good job in the background; one that would involve me smiling at people and them instantly feeling better, I think I want my life to be like a cartoon."

Can you tell she's a poet?
I sat in the park for a while and tried to recapture that feeling of epic fecklessness but without a friend there, it fell flat.

And, my final discovery: a pony in somebody's front garden.

There is really nothing else to say about this. Someone is keeping a pony in their garden. For all the world to see and, potentially, touch. I did not touch it. Frankly, the poor thing looked a bit stressed out and maybe a little sick, so I snapped a couple of pics and then left it to its own devices.

And that was my weekend in Laon. I know, I know, no grand adventures or fun cameos, but sometimes life is a little more placid and you just have to enjoy the sunshine.

My Paris Problem

One of my students recently remarked "You go to Paris too much." It was at that moment that I realised I had a problem; I vowed I'd change, get help and go back to school. I'd take the second chance I'd been offered and really do something with my life.
And then James said he'd be in Paris.

I arrived on Saturday arvo to meet with Dani and it was exactly as we'd left things: she was hungover and I hadn't slept enough. We went to Shakespeare and Company to meet Rose, who was acting as a bouncer because that's how popular Shakespeare and Company is. We then went to go and get lunch, where we had possibly the most Honey Badger waiter I've ever seen: he literally threw the cutlery at us. I'm really glad none of us needed a steak knife.

After lunch, we went for a look around the French version of poundland and I found an almost literal gallon of conditioner for seven euros. If I'd had the strength to lug it around for two days, I would've bought it and my hair would finally have become the sleek wave of brunette that it deserves to be. Then, we headed to Luxemburg Gardens, where Dani and I recreated that scene from Forrest Gump:

"Mama always said that life is like a cheesey box."

And then we wandered the park for a while, taking in the daffodils and various statues of deers fornicating, lions preening and a really meta statue of a woman looking at a statue. And then we parted ways so I could go and meet James.

We met at Harry's- an old wateringhole of Hemingway's, don't you know? James was on good form and had apparently fallen for the moveable feast just like many before him- he was saying how he plans to return to Paris soon and how much better it is than London. He was stuck by the vivacity and carefree nature of the French, and also how he recognised loads of the locations from Assassin's Creed.
We drank heartily and then realised that it was almost exactly a year since we were both in Bedlam Reduced and that, indeed, this year's edition was playing that night, so we sent them our own 'break a leg' pictogram:

And if some one does break a leg, at least do a Rosie Pierce and get right back up before falling over again.

I was staying with Matt and David, so I headed over there, and we went out for a quick drink at an Irish bar, where I was hoping to woo the owner with our shared heritage and thus get free drinks, but alas he wasn't there. Still, I tried a 'monkey brain', which is grenadine, baileys and vodka and tastes like strawberries and cream mixed with nail polish remover- that is to say, surprisingly delicious.

The next day, I was meeting with Nicole and John; Nicole and I met at Gare du Nord at 11 am, but Johnny boy had slept in and so whilst we waited, we made up insuting nicknames for him.
Eventually showed up and we decided to head over to the Disney store so that Nicole could buy an Easter present for her bae and, weirdly, they had a little plushie toy of John there:

What a funky looking donkey.

After this, we sat around sticking our tongues out at each other and appreciating the sun like the bunch of lizards that we are (interesting fact: the collective noun for lizards is 'a lounge'). But then John remembered that he needed to buy a present for his friend and after hours of searching, he finally returned with a picture which he then proceeded to drop all around town like it was a hot microphone.

Finally, it came time to say 'goodbye'. For realsies. There are no more weekends left when we can all meet up.
Nicole and I live on the same continent, occasionally; we will probably see each other again. In fact  I'll make an effort to see her again. But John lives off in the New World, and not in any part that I have any desire to visit. I may never lay eyes on him again- but I'll always remember the ease with which he named the members of N*Sync and how he was watching just a little bit too much gay porn to be straight.

And so that was how I relapsed into my Paris problem; but hey, I'll be going cold turkey in just under three weeks' time. Yep, I'll be chained to my bed, hallucinating swivel-headed babies in tiny little berets; let's just hope the Moveable Feast doesn't follow me.