tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68204152189452158702024-02-18T20:25:06.774-08:00City-wanderer, language-pondererAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-16060187790398018452014-12-28T08:24:00.000-08:002014-12-28T08:35:40.387-08:00Christmas : New Job, New Year, New Hope<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBQfK2hyphenhyphenJ0YSyBx93TvfxYm6JCQct2SXnF9g_1YfMgunHzszhYQN8yVbQsH6AEtG7pAefaa6baA-0W8J1sNPsVRgB3hb_S_lfhRksBYP9ZSvcUUPqKZ_92LMRcOWhtlgPmCY3SwsG9uA/s1600/Xmas+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBQfK2hyphenhyphenJ0YSyBx93TvfxYm6JCQct2SXnF9g_1YfMgunHzszhYQN8yVbQsH6AEtG7pAefaa6baA-0W8J1sNPsVRgB3hb_S_lfhRksBYP9ZSvcUUPqKZ_92LMRcOWhtlgPmCY3SwsG9uA/s1600/Xmas+tree.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The J-A Tree.</td></tr>
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Well two months have slipped away and as the year comes to a close, I'm reflecting on the good, the bad and the more grey.<br />
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In October I got a job. Huzzah! And so The 9-5 Lifestyle begins and my itchy feet are tucked up in sensible work shoes. After this terrible/wonderful year it all seemed to work out okay, in the cosmic way that things seem to. Touch wood.<br />
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I worked so hard to boost my French, but in France I felt too far away from my family during a crisis period that it wasn't sustainable. Luckily (read: <i>Thanks to a gazillion job applications</i>) I managed to find a French-speaking role in Yorkshire. I share responsibility for our French client and can look forward to business trips to Paris. What are the chances of that, I wonder.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHadPJusKHd6fL1Q1Sg7_juLDVhz4CW2ra8W77yD7nEOInFw9nWPNf31DSeYyD1BP2OFx9RFfh1LNhTWeRnZycdkY7B1MPde6oBcyTkT2us2qOO3DDkFFOqj5Si0cpdRrHgkAknZG6hh8/s1600/table+decoration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHadPJusKHd6fL1Q1Sg7_juLDVhz4CW2ra8W77yD7nEOInFw9nWPNf31DSeYyD1BP2OFx9RFfh1LNhTWeRnZycdkY7B1MPde6oBcyTkT2us2qOO3DDkFFOqj5Si0cpdRrHgkAknZG6hh8/s1600/table+decoration.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year's theme: Funky Reindeer</td></tr>
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And so my strange year of wandering comes to a close with that often-dreamt-of Family Christmas.<br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> that all four of us are safe, healthy and home. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> for job security, a salary and annual leave. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> for the snow this weekend. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> for our shared opinion that the Weirdest Trees are the Bestest Trees. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> that, despite my atheism and my disdain of capitalism, my hypocrisy and childish optimism allows my to enjoy the festive period without qualms or guilt. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> for giving gifts that were well-received and getting presents from people who clearly understand me. </i><br />
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<i>I'm <b>thankful</b> for family who are friends, and friends who are family.</i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqj2aCDt65glHU-h4K51tnQW4hD6AOvrZgx0M3hlNupCO6F6YZWHL5tf9zc0clFvDXEVT1yRi9fzVHOwm4LGdTMdEkcoa2dRNNsOqm7oVjimkXopTeYCs9rytEgv-iy9_BYWO_t37G5U/s1600/Festivities.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqqj2aCDt65glHU-h4K51tnQW4hD6AOvrZgx0M3hlNupCO6F6YZWHL5tf9zc0clFvDXEVT1yRi9fzVHOwm4LGdTMdEkcoa2dRNNsOqm7oVjimkXopTeYCs9rytEgv-iy9_BYWO_t37G5U/s1600/Festivities.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Best People</td></tr>
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Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. <br />
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xoxoxAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-91946340805742272452014-10-05T05:45:00.002-07:002014-10-05T05:45:46.133-07:00A Year Ago...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A year ago today, I arrived in India. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVmk_52G3-spK1mkagh8YLdd7yVibRMGJg_rnyDA4ireGFKmsU7LBMfvGh9qTXgkQiGUzYlDS380PkySKoIDm691PkpBpsLCqCudmsB2XG3CZuzpfu2u1_tCOICUpdGp5cmTS6MCtcrY/s1600/india.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVmk_52G3-spK1mkagh8YLdd7yVibRMGJg_rnyDA4ireGFKmsU7LBMfvGh9qTXgkQiGUzYlDS380PkySKoIDm691PkpBpsLCqCudmsB2XG3CZuzpfu2u1_tCOICUpdGp5cmTS6MCtcrY/s1600/india.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was the brightest, liveliest, noisiest. A holiday of all things – cities, history, culture, mountains, hiking, cycling, beaches, swimming, boats, museums, art galleries, slums. It is full of contradictions and a place where you'll never feel like you've seen everything.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AVIwUXxahQdtbq3c0EmzU4f-EfsL7TKDa3ckulNXsBpMpBhyphenhyphena4Pr4xo1PMDj_N7cudrHXgwEeUl9K_OsVm-8IUqygmvt_iD0DWgbcFNZK71JKZlTINqnLdbqNg8Q1Zw__OrQtmQvuyU/s1600/aZCtsdKCxz0IN2OZIpdKSleax1atW7IuuQhzUiKq5Dg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8AVIwUXxahQdtbq3c0EmzU4f-EfsL7TKDa3ckulNXsBpMpBhyphenhyphena4Pr4xo1PMDj_N7cudrHXgwEeUl9K_OsVm-8IUqygmvt_iD0DWgbcFNZK71JKZlTINqnLdbqNg8Q1Zw__OrQtmQvuyU/s1600/aZCtsdKCxz0IN2OZIpdKSleax1atW7IuuQhzUiKq5Dg.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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A selection of my favourite photos to mark the moment. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDpKDMJjIwYYbUKRVBe2I9M-zTLkEYMzadEQGOUEYdtqLnLtvHcoYRwLqwGrr556Opbi0cQXN46ZO58rREnKh75OcpvUnaQ8QK_10uDHmrVS2MUlihooryb0JX6SCF3rgfvYurM-PSfY/s1600/IMG_5516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbDpKDMJjIwYYbUKRVBe2I9M-zTLkEYMzadEQGOUEYdtqLnLtvHcoYRwLqwGrr556Opbi0cQXN46ZO58rREnKh75OcpvUnaQ8QK_10uDHmrVS2MUlihooryb0JX6SCF3rgfvYurM-PSfY/s1600/IMG_5516.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jodhpur, view from Mehrangarh Fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mrfI9WP9HsGHieKgPZFOBh0a5OrUnRnanOHnVPVcrRHM6xWU6ipRVuSkSEtLVJLJkjqjZrI0QyOanUftU19Eb0qAvpGGntfT4ig5_ZLSx3tkBLNDWLW3EdsaOpJ-6WWEuwVrNT38P-Y/s1600/IMG_5691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mrfI9WP9HsGHieKgPZFOBh0a5OrUnRnanOHnVPVcrRHM6xWU6ipRVuSkSEtLVJLJkjqjZrI0QyOanUftU19Eb0qAvpGGntfT4ig5_ZLSx3tkBLNDWLW3EdsaOpJ-6WWEuwVrNT38P-Y/s1600/IMG_5691.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ranakpur, Jain Temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbsJimrDIcflVIp0Gg3eQZMPJv5iTwW4UdIWR7842fWuhRZG4l6xy8urdSyXIAxaYOMaHN_5TsaWTVUVCKLLGHF985tvm-hiRVQap47Q1yuotzPCt2ypCXEYLilBAwV2NG1AtSVnFVAA/s1600/IMG_5924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbsJimrDIcflVIp0Gg3eQZMPJv5iTwW4UdIWR7842fWuhRZG4l6xy8urdSyXIAxaYOMaHN_5TsaWTVUVCKLLGHF985tvm-hiRVQap47Q1yuotzPCt2ypCXEYLilBAwV2NG1AtSVnFVAA/s1600/IMG_5924.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kumbhalgarh Fort</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScdNKUpWzu-x8FLZPY4WIaUd3v-K79nJiFx-uUzfHUtQSTgPqTwXve9LZGKWOaj6JUupaJvcO-fgYJDCPQsZEJCEnxj_m4xMDGB2KxJXK1jUOMTPwSUnrw21iiuql1N5XFt_Sa4o26eo/s1600/IMG_6004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScdNKUpWzu-x8FLZPY4WIaUd3v-K79nJiFx-uUzfHUtQSTgPqTwXve9LZGKWOaj6JUupaJvcO-fgYJDCPQsZEJCEnxj_m4xMDGB2KxJXK1jUOMTPwSUnrw21iiuql1N5XFt_Sa4o26eo/s1600/IMG_6004.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pushkar</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vd92rj3bjykUqBxPUMPXU864HYX6UkVuIvhZUYgDeFVoccvACFx-yXinE4xgO2hW9-5aIr5gWx3xMGiBuYE0BU2d4yjZsU0GFE1MLsIU3JBXpfw5cH8fkmmAHnmKDARKxcoSNcikuS4/s1600/IMG_6385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4vd92rj3bjykUqBxPUMPXU864HYX6UkVuIvhZUYgDeFVoccvACFx-yXinE4xgO2hW9-5aIr5gWx3xMGiBuYE0BU2d4yjZsU0GFE1MLsIU3JBXpfw5cH8fkmmAHnmKDARKxcoSNcikuS4/s1600/IMG_6385.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Taj Mahal at dusk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_vXQoAYyRBK-R6GY_vN4NyNdoQSOkwIGU_QM70SGGDJj0vWB04SnhYyvNEH7FKAWj86ImKMUlxgH0pyl8GnD_W8vyewcSFKvxH97_QzHbW678ctXai_JQ0DGtELOO1oZJ1-KVJJT2JE/s1600/IMG_6620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia_vXQoAYyRBK-R6GY_vN4NyNdoQSOkwIGU_QM70SGGDJj0vWB04SnhYyvNEH7FKAWj86ImKMUlxgH0pyl8GnD_W8vyewcSFKvxH97_QzHbW678ctXai_JQ0DGtELOO1oZJ1-KVJJT2JE/s1600/IMG_6620.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mumbai, <span class="st">Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Z4VzVUZPJi6jvunjn7MFejcxqq78KoJ7woxI0uyeojFfZptSN0c-2Zz-FE6lV4OAUeCkh4V2JM9CEP_n5A_6TmcVQVb5Nt7TYuxF1Bg1XLy9mT5rVZVR_Wbq95cXs6bLrmrepdsPZI/s1600/IMG_6652.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg26Z4VzVUZPJi6jvunjn7MFejcxqq78KoJ7woxI0uyeojFfZptSN0c-2Zz-FE6lV4OAUeCkh4V2JM9CEP_n5A_6TmcVQVb5Nt7TYuxF1Bg1XLy9mT5rVZVR_Wbq95cXs6bLrmrepdsPZI/s1600/IMG_6652.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bombay sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goan beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSNBIMiwQkJ0O_dfYan2QsMVuKSBYxpxYGcWlDqtqRv8KJBkfHTWB8ZCpwXSKD7OPmNnQkjjDekLNAGlZzLdt2-YC524sRyb9SouGWIbaHgHkJ7xyFUIWRFVcIxpcJ6mZRull3XXXA1g/s1600/IMG_7238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSNBIMiwQkJ0O_dfYan2QsMVuKSBYxpxYGcWlDqtqRv8KJBkfHTWB8ZCpwXSKD7OPmNnQkjjDekLNAGlZzLdt2-YC524sRyb9SouGWIbaHgHkJ7xyFUIWRFVcIxpcJ6mZRull3XXXA1g/s1600/IMG_7238.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madurai, <span>Meenakshi Amman Temple</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFH56Kiuxc7qVVSJtNRUR85TEhnFLK1yPKkpoPVOa09MyCjVtZQ234Y1bEql_PJKJnqDihsjpj6F20sdK2SDC-8cIZIRs0ydxlSi4te6e9PKBBnhhhyEQvqosOYDdPigv1eFj-0p2XbGU/s1600/IMG_7443.jpg" height="640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="478" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trivandrum Ashram</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDg4pN8b1WNGoPrPRvqdFslPuNNNkgKsmaMqmIxUB3Yi2eLTDujXF8LRFGbeBPEqYstCgCsuUADEel-DCnv0h_HfdgNjdB6iesCx9VnPskDgHTJu76Al7urJ9whSN2Z6Sn3DFSFBSTu8s/s1600/IMG_6347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDg4pN8b1WNGoPrPRvqdFslPuNNNkgKsmaMqmIxUB3Yi2eLTDujXF8LRFGbeBPEqYstCgCsuUADEel-DCnv0h_HfdgNjdB6iesCx9VnPskDgHTJu76Al7urJ9whSN2Z6Sn3DFSFBSTu8s/s1600/IMG_6347.JPG" height="476" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why is this place so mesmorising? Everyone recognises it but it will still blow your mind.</td></tr>
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<br />Can't wait until I go again...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-64215745951724934352014-09-28T11:02:00.000-07:002014-09-28T15:16:57.713-07:00Jack et la Mécanique du Cœur<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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One of the best things I saw whilst living in France was the fabulous animated film <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZfhCqh6jm4"><i>Jack et la Méchanique du C</i><i><span class="st"><i>œ</i></span>ur</i></a>, generally translated as <i>The Boy with the Cuckcoo-Clock Heart</i>. It is totally bizarre and magical and one of the most creative things I've seen. France makes <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0775489/">some</a> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0808417/">really</a> <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1671584/">corking</a> animated films, in my opinion, so whenever I'm there I watch any that are showing. <br />
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I went into the cinema without knowing a thing. Only after I absolutely loved it did I do my research. It's based on the concept album/illustrated novel by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKb0QcXcZH8">Dionysos</a> and their front man, Mathias Malzieu. If you want some French music in your life, that is a great one to start with.<br />
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Jack is born on the coldest day in Edinburgh and his little heart is frozen. A problem that can only be fixed, in this topsy-turvy world, with a cuckcoo-clock replacement. Poor little Jack must follow three simple rules:<br />
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<i>Premièrement ne touche pas à tes aiguilles</i></div>
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<i><br />
Deuxièment ta colère tu devras maitriser </i></div>
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Et surtout ne jamais oublier quoi qu'il arrive, ne jamais se laisser tomber amoureux</i></div>
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Jack must not touch the cuckcoo-clock's hands. He must control his anger. And, <i>quelle surprise, </i>he must never <i>ever</i> fall in love. Alas, the teenage boy falls for a bespectacled singer, Miss Acacia, and so he starts on his quest across Europe to Andalucia. <br />
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Why I do love this film? Well, it's so imaginative. A flying train, a two-headed mermaid, a cinematic icon, a xylophone-spine, amazing Burtinesque animation and a cracking soundtrack. However, one of the main things that I loved was that it was in French, Spanish and English. Because of that and with all of its crazy wordplay, I find it hard to imagine them ever creating a successful dubbing or subtitling. I really hope that I'm wrong and they do manage.<br />
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It's actually a favourite topic of mine and I wrote an essay at university about the untranslatablilty of one of my favourite films (<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0057345/?ref_=nv_sr_1"><i>Le Mepris</i></a>). I've watched it with the subtitles and it's fine but I still think you lose something in the translation. I think we can be honest that Dr Seuss in another language, although still fabulous, won't be Dr Seuss.<i> The Cat in the Hat </i>is translated as <i>Le Chat chapeauté. </i>It makes perfect sense and they've got the repetition of the at/at cha/cha sounds but in a different order that doesn't seem to please the ear in the same way. And don't get me started on the Italian <i>Il gatto col cappello</i>. See! Amazing language, it's worth learning another just to get their poetry and literature because some things are so easily lost in translation.<br />
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Two English lyrics from the <i>Jack et la Mécanique du Cœur</i> album:<br />
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<i>My motherfucking heart does, clic-cloc-ding-dong</i></div>
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<i>She smells/smiles (?) like when you eat a rotten cheese</i></div>
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The strange and wonderful lyrics this band creates are so bizarre outside the French context. Would they keep that in an English language version? Or would they have to 'translate' that too? Young French people love knowing English, it's an impressive thing. And all the more so if you know the swear words. All the teens will be singing along and feeling kick-ass. But over here.... maybe not. <br />
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So everybody watch this film and listen to the album! Whatever language you can find it in, you don't need to understand the words to wonder at the animation.<br />
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Andalucia, Anda, Andaaaaaaaaaaaa Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-5357964347117006332014-09-19T11:21:00.000-07:002014-09-20T06:55:20.882-07:00A British SummerPerhaps it's time to move on. The previous post of my final night in Paris now feels like a distant memory. I've been in the UK for 3 months+ now and my constant nattering in French is becoming less acceptable. I always try to control myself by a little reminder of a favourite quotation from <i>The Jane Austen Book Club</i> whenever I start to say "Put the milk in the frigo":<br />
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<span class="character">Allegra</span>:
If only she'd stop speaking French </div>
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<span class="character">Jocelyn</span>:
Or at least go to France, where it would be less noticeable</div>
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So I'm now back in Yorkshire following my summer internship in London. Living in the South was filled with celebrations: birthdays, small victories, big decisions and a reunited family.</div>
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And many many many <i>many</i> weekend roadtrips.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIjrU7iyNj-82itUbcGoQah3W6KYoJfTqH89AeB3O-WeFKd4Z81uapEZU6f9q7R7PBr8MZ7229hT50JbPf4Qj7vuMtJ-WdIAhDcpOTeVqEANP-A7HlGogqg0LfKrDX2ZRreJYzl-SQnQ/s1600/arundel+castle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIjrU7iyNj-82itUbcGoQah3W6KYoJfTqH89AeB3O-WeFKd4Z81uapEZU6f9q7R7PBr8MZ7229hT50JbPf4Qj7vuMtJ-WdIAhDcpOTeVqEANP-A7HlGogqg0LfKrDX2ZRreJYzl-SQnQ/s1600/arundel+castle.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For example, this one! Arundel Castle</td></tr>
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Magical warm evenings...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcFz-Kxw9VICLSOVwLYUH9N1Omto8e4lsmcghBbi9E5-4qiq6k5C9DMcvvN1l2lvLarZza-rXxMvyM40utohIQWq7v30QnO344Dcs3CMTJ89Szn90SDQOJ-_97Nh0aDKlzizENTRqlx4/s1600/fair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcFz-Kxw9VICLSOVwLYUH9N1Omto8e4lsmcghBbi9E5-4qiq6k5C9DMcvvN1l2lvLarZza-rXxMvyM40utohIQWq7v30QnO344Dcs3CMTJ89Szn90SDQOJ-_97Nh0aDKlzizENTRqlx4/s1600/fair.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Like this one! Brockham village fair</td></tr>
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A final trip to the seaside. We picked Bexhill-on-Sea by pointing at the map. Great descision in the end.<br />
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And after all the adventures and misadventures, we rented a big van for our old man to drive us back up the M1 to our lovely abode.<br />
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It's almost three weeks that we've been back now. I was greeted on the first evening with the spectacular sky from my attic window.<br />
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Whatever is next? There is another internship opportunity in London, more job applications. Fingers crossed for those already sent out into the world. But either way, the long and lovely summer that graced us this year was certainly appreciated.</div>
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But I do love autumn....</div>
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Bring it on!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-54233006646163464532014-08-04T14:51:00.000-07:002014-08-04T14:51:03.457-07:00Midnight in Paris: Time Travel Not Included<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVY0Q7xJhgnoqzvnvWzQLKLZB588SqRJRRhfARgSLq_SUep-JhrdgIs5PNGsJgoy-5IlhPHocabkXaFDPPwNXZsNJ0-bUlE2oL8g60p1-xPeZtTCAMrP-sa7LWyouXuv7P_YWUt6O3OHo/s1600/DSC_0121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVY0Q7xJhgnoqzvnvWzQLKLZB588SqRJRRhfARgSLq_SUep-JhrdgIs5PNGsJgoy-5IlhPHocabkXaFDPPwNXZsNJ0-bUlE2oL8g60p1-xPeZtTCAMrP-sa7LWyouXuv7P_YWUt6O3OHo/s1600/DSC_0121.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Across the Seine, all of the lights</td></tr>
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I've been back in the UK for two months now, and when I look back over my time in Paris, one moment really sticks out: my final evening. Knowing I was leaving, and having made the most of my day in <a href="http://harriet-flaneuse.blogspot.fr/2014/07/behind-sacre-cur-finding-montmartre.html">Montmartre</a>, I invited some of my favourite Parisians out for a celebratory evening. We began, late-afternoon, on Île-de-la-cité drinking something sparkley.<br />
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Île-de-la-cité is one of the two little islands in the middle of the Seine. It's home to Notre Dame de Paris and is the centre of the capital*. There is a fantastic book, <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/137981.Seven_Ages_of_Paris">The Seven Ages of Paris</a>, </i>that explains the history of Paris in a really great way. Thanks to this modest knowledge, when I'm there I imagine I'm where it all started. Before Revolutions, Sieges, World Wars, Piaf, Artists and the Palme d'Or. This island really is the heart of Paris and has a magical quality, but then I'm a Paris Romantic.<br />
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So we drank above the flowing river and under the bizarrely-placed willow tree before heading off to eat in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. Obviously lovely company, lovely food, lovely wine all created a perfect final night but really, it was the ending that made it so special.<br />
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Do you remember when I took a <a href="http://harriet-flaneuse.blogspot.fr/2014/03/blue-bike-tours-paris-velo.html">bike ride</a> around Paris? I was desperate to cycle but afraid to go at it alone. Well I finally rented a Vélib'. The remaining three of us giddily set off searching for our rentals. In a perfect twist of fate/destiny/timing we pedaled off to <i>la Tour Eiffel</i>, arriving just in time for the midnight sparkles. Clichéd? Maybe. But beautiful and memorable, which is enough for me. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Trees and Giant Broccoli taking over Paris one monument at a time</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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*Disney fans, can we just take a moment to remember <i>The Hunchback of Notre Dame </i>and Esmarelda's <a href="https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=hunchback+of+notre+dame+map+necklace&client=firefox-a&hs=bDP&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&channel=sb&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=YNffU669JsnA0QWH_YHoAQ&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1244&bih=730#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=LRo6VH6-PIRUdM%253A%3BXfmjPvTOUXdafM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fdata2.whicdn.com%252Fimages%252F30502600%252Foriginal.png%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fweheartit.com%252Fentry%252Fgroup%252F12439189%3B800%3B450">map</a> necklace. Did it really take them so long to figure out that it was Paris? The thread was blue for goodness' sake. Poor effort.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-37572600673119864062014-07-07T11:28:00.001-07:002014-07-07T11:28:45.058-07:00Behind the Sacré Cœur: finding Montmartre<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What will I find hidden?</td></tr>
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I visited Paris on a school trip when I was 12 and remember everyone wearing <i>bérets,</i> having our caricatures sketched in the <i>Place du Tertre</i> and forcing down tiny coffees on the steps under <i>La Basilique du Sacré-C</i><i><span class="st"><em>œ</em></span>ur</i>. We felt fabulous and French and I loved it. But Montmartre divides the population. <i>It's not what it used to be</i>, they say. <i>The magic is still there, hidden away</i>, say others. So on my final day in Paris, I grabbed my camera and wandered around without a map trying to stay away from the hilltop until the final moment.<br />
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If there aren't many people, you've found the right place. The old village where 19th century artists all flocked, selling their paintings for rent and meals, joined into Paris as it expanded. Stepping away from Boulevard du Clichy, you soon find the village taking over from the peep-shows.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shops, vineyard and the Sacré c<span class="st"><em>œ</em></span>ur - but not how I remember it.</td></tr>
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It was a lovely place to wander around with surprises popping out all over the place. A vineyard, sculptures, murals. A great spot for this <i>flâneuse. </i></div>
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<i>Le Passe-Muraille</i> (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_passer-through-walls"><i>The Man Who Walked through Walls</i></a>) was sculpted by the actor Jean Marais apparently which is just mind-blowing to me - why isn't this more well-known? This statue commemorates the intriguing story by Marcel Aymé written in 1943 about a man who can - would you have guessed it - walk through walls.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love from all over the world</td></tr>
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I finally found myself arriving at the back of the SC and was surrounded once again by Paris's tourist population. I'm not one to shirk the mainstream and I believe usually things are popular for a reason. It can't be denied it's pretty magical atop that hill and the view over the rooftops of Paris is one of my favourites. I never could quite detach myself from my tourist persona in Paris - the fact is that it still remains totally magical and other worldly in my eyes. So never quite a Parisian, but I tried to become more than a tourist and it ended up being quite a nice space to occupy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPO_LRDpwi07O4RM16uW5liSBct3UaflLPJWNQvQ3Yev9Uc1SaFUgvTkwlrtUQg5m9XdmwPXIr4AJIWIbbCkLgbufOlf2si4R5Xjd3s52S9_UwD1UKn42wZE4udy08jyX8CFGMgyJIoyM/s1600/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPO_LRDpwi07O4RM16uW5liSBct3UaflLPJWNQvQ3Yev9Uc1SaFUgvTkwlrtUQg5m9XdmwPXIr4AJIWIbbCkLgbufOlf2si4R5Xjd3s52S9_UwD1UKn42wZE4udy08jyX8CFGMgyJIoyM/s1600/PicMonkey+Collage.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-74681346285080310152014-06-21T03:31:00.000-07:002014-07-14T12:00:37.836-07:00Crazy crafts and time flying<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm back in the UK for my internship now and suddenly, with a 9-6 job and a commute, I find myself falling behind with my little Paris scrapbook. But I'm determined to keep going and don't want to lose all my lovely photos so will persevere to get the memories up here. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4OEIER_6nI6PmyLsVDJZEXf2vhwPy3_VZ3X4R2W4TmtLYqzfXm10JAil5Av4VX0sNd4GCxZ-nb3qQWDQywqyjWXrSOlE20njoHwY4UcnN_JrhVkcTXfmoACpe4Po2N0_E_0BrltjmVs/s1600/IMG_8834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO4OEIER_6nI6PmyLsVDJZEXf2vhwPy3_VZ3X4R2W4TmtLYqzfXm10JAil5Av4VX0sNd4GCxZ-nb3qQWDQywqyjWXrSOlE20njoHwY4UcnN_JrhVkcTXfmoACpe4Po2N0_E_0BrltjmVs/s1600/IMG_8834.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
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Flashback to a lunchtime break in the Jardin du Luxembourg with the lovely Melissa before our Versailles lecture. We nattered by the pond for a couple of hours where a very crafty man had displayed his handmade ship by the water. Matchsticks, lego, Hello Kitty, soft toys and rigging. He was very proud of his creation and encouraged me to snap away.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTyTz3NnZfbchoZvX9url8-9ht7K9OtPo9aH98GtPlwd3fYDJipbA70oj0tMoBNhmLVfyT6b3pfYFBZP8-1NF-m-iURflZ9gVwA-Bbye1UGbKwsDtz9SDockvADohDomnL4_y460_Cyo/s1600/IMG_8834+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTyTz3NnZfbchoZvX9url8-9ht7K9OtPo9aH98GtPlwd3fYDJipbA70oj0tMoBNhmLVfyT6b3pfYFBZP8-1NF-m-iURflZ9gVwA-Bbye1UGbKwsDtz9SDockvADohDomnL4_y460_Cyo/s1600/IMG_8834+2.JPG" height="304" width="640" /></a></div>
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Very awesome. You might spot in the first picture, there are the little flags he encouraged people to design and stick on the mast. Passer-bys kept stopping to admire and the fact that you could add a little something made it all the better for kids, but also for the more grown-up kids, like ourselves. Good job, Monsieur!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-72678341173013947912014-05-21T12:18:00.000-07:002014-05-21T12:18:05.631-07:00100 Days in Paris<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAz-XXkYF5fXYkbJi2aEzTUU8Mz-m0ljLVoLynpvdgNaWSzHnAsP8KuFPyd99PrKeAsqwyZ-w-dJOEfRZ4AneBZntOlCwehZvZ7C2bJbqJmxTtRck3w_Qzr4jYYkF8VihETr2hkSsGk6w/s1600/skyline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAz-XXkYF5fXYkbJi2aEzTUU8Mz-m0ljLVoLynpvdgNaWSzHnAsP8KuFPyd99PrKeAsqwyZ-w-dJOEfRZ4AneBZntOlCwehZvZ7C2bJbqJmxTtRck3w_Qzr4jYYkF8VihETr2hkSsGk6w/s1600/skyline.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sky</td></tr>
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Today, Wednesday 21 May, marks my 100th day living in Paris. I guess that 100 days isn't really an anniversary of any particular importance (other than the fact that everyone loves a round number) but #100happydays is trending on my Facebook homepage so let's commemorate. Yes, I know I'm mixing up my social medias but I'm radical that way. <br />
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I can honestly say, my time in Paris has been one of the happiest periods of my life. My French has improved, I've met lovely people, and done plenty of unexpected things. But it has been a difficult period in other ways, with lots of rushing back and forth to England to be with my family. As I reach this point, it's easy for me to say that blood will always come before Paris but I'm thankful this city has always been waiting to welcome me back. As I begin to count my days down here, I am clutching onto anything Paris offers me.<br />
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Here are some photos from off the tourist route. These are all shots from my bedroom window. The 28th floor certainly gives me quite a view. It looks out to the east of Paris so don't go scanning for the Eiffel Tour, it isn't there. My post today is inspired by the rain that is currently pouring down after a week of beautiful sunshine. <br />
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The rain in Paris seems to come out of nowhere, chucks down heavily and
disappears. And I see it all from my apartment in the sky and it has
become one of my favourite things - rushing to window when I hear it
begin. I don't really have a point and I don't want to turn it into a metaphor. Let's just enjoy it...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNG3MTSBw6dwSiHljuo4XFDoowVnXoQp2P7euS1dYqH1jHenn2qNozFiscEt-I_Xd3JrnLKgx1fDObdJUoFKEuV22xZFs-8mSQz3e5bIFdabtKUMCxc_v3dPDiQThAWCOfLr7GFyVyCA/s1600/sunrises.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRNG3MTSBw6dwSiHljuo4XFDoowVnXoQp2P7euS1dYqH1jHenn2qNozFiscEt-I_Xd3JrnLKgx1fDObdJUoFKEuV22xZFs-8mSQz3e5bIFdabtKUMCxc_v3dPDiQThAWCOfLr7GFyVyCA/s1600/sunrises.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></div>
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tl;dr I like the sky.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-21548944351423765272014-05-17T14:29:00.000-07:002014-05-17T14:30:45.387-07:00English wine and future plans<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpzEt74NUOJMkyIHsexMrTgmkEtfARDj_BSXrVWpmaiSAU3vyDybeMaHVtoBh_OTSKI5EmOc8vA8P-6Zahtip3D7Usl6LE_NZaQUoHtC6fhYVIaF1IbBIJsGXzHYPRH-GGyYjs5Rsrn0/s1600/wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzpzEt74NUOJMkyIHsexMrTgmkEtfARDj_BSXrVWpmaiSAU3vyDybeMaHVtoBh_OTSKI5EmOc8vA8P-6Zahtip3D7Usl6LE_NZaQUoHtC6fhYVIaF1IbBIJsGXzHYPRH-GGyYjs5Rsrn0/s1600/wine.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">buckets, bottles, barrels</td></tr>
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So before I get back to my posts of Paris, I have one more from England. My sister lives in Dorking where I spent most of the holiday. A lovely little town that happens to have the largest English vineyard, <a href="http://www.denbies.co.uk/">Denbies</a>, which covers 267 acres. My sister kindly gave us the tickets she couldn't use and we went for a Sparkling Wine Tour. Don't mind if I do, thanks Em.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_69dqW-n6Hrxp-UGUiaqFlcep_Q7q_stBmnamdgFxVp4UtbMi_JSAYQFNYvTBxdNTGSDQ6NejYiw4_PmI_5vw22Tf_iItjL585ylvFTs4Y5T9U_X_l15eF1eMEEhckX8dJiDc5YSRPMY/s1600/denbies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_69dqW-n6Hrxp-UGUiaqFlcep_Q7q_stBmnamdgFxVp4UtbMi_JSAYQFNYvTBxdNTGSDQ6NejYiw4_PmI_5vw22Tf_iItjL585ylvFTs4Y5T9U_X_l15eF1eMEEhckX8dJiDc5YSRPMY/s1600/denbies.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></div>
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The tour comprised of a film, a tour of backstage, a tasting and a little train ride around the grounds (with another little tasting). I have done a vineyard tour in Bordeaux before on my Erasmus year and my lasting memory was that although I understood wine and could say things like: "mmm, oaky...slightly tanic...smooth," with meaning, it didn't stick. Only mere days later and all I could say was: "Yum, grapes"! This time I am really trying to commit it to memory. Here is what I learnt:<br />
<ul>
<li>The soil is similar to in the French Champagne region and therefore they make great sparkling wine.</li>
<li>The slopes protect the vines from the cold Northerly wind so the grapes can grow in peace.</li>
<li>The <a href="http://harriet-flaneuse.blogspot.fr/2014/05/sussex-seaside-coastline-battlefield.html">chalky geology</a> in the area means the soil doesn't get water logged. Yay.</li>
<li>The Queen's favourite is Surrey Gold.</li>
</ul>
Lovely day, lovely wine, lovely company.<br />
<br />
This is the end of my England photos however, I will be returning. In June, I'll be starting an internship in London for a publishing house. I'm super excited to begin and can explore a whole new city - I've not spent much time in London. I'm equally sad to leave Paris. But <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pa-dGYjSq5k">we'll always have Paris</a> and who knows what my next step will be post-internship, I may be back. Good things ahead. Until then, more Paris posts coming up...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzvtTvU9QVR_SSikhMcAsVH9_yhG2Y-BMF2QeSMU9ligV2XXY7cnNI4G4nlTgsq89JZa-Qd3PrVRsCqrjxQ03Nu5dHHoDqObmS1gdhk4Mpfkb2bnZcNxSQIdHVk1k1zzD7KQpqSKKWgw/s1600/london.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzvtTvU9QVR_SSikhMcAsVH9_yhG2Y-BMF2QeSMU9ligV2XXY7cnNI4G4nlTgsq89JZa-Qd3PrVRsCqrjxQ03Nu5dHHoDqObmS1gdhk4Mpfkb2bnZcNxSQIdHVk1k1zzD7KQpqSKKWgw/s1600/london.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't wait to see you again London...</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-42856626848445179322014-05-03T12:40:00.000-07:002014-05-03T12:40:51.729-07:00Sussex: seaside, coastline, battlefield<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGO_G_3YyV-QRC12FJHyEpzFqbjFoG_3JWcBqZIugZdRrshcwyrWHmKiF2FffYKpNv-LGM7U6cv2RoglwpgJ9rdTGjbPZgV75UiPJr598JCeZqzkqIFh67K8ICOHjorZ13sgNWNjm4lQ/s1600/Seven+sisters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTGO_G_3YyV-QRC12FJHyEpzFqbjFoG_3JWcBqZIugZdRrshcwyrWHmKiF2FffYKpNv-LGM7U6cv2RoglwpgJ9rdTGjbPZgV75UiPJr598JCeZqzkqIFh67K8ICOHjorZ13sgNWNjm4lQ/s1600/Seven+sisters.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up to the highest height at Seven Sisters</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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My family holiday began in Sussex in a little village called Cowbeech. From there, we packed up our daysack and explored the local area. In traditional J-A family fashion, we sought out the historical and beautiful countryside to enjoy. The Seven Sisters are some of the chalk cliffs found at the south coast of England. Amazingly dramatic, it's a popular place for film locations (such as Joe Wright's <i>Atonement</i>) and it is not hard to see why. We sat and stared out, wind in our hair, clearing our minds.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrjR0iWX85QHE6_0RhoFfhX-G-2qm4UjfZuyTWyZFGqbMjeq0N2uNwzKG_nkdH7z7aOMKdgh0Adl1742AgjiQGC3n_uz4n_92ISUDmF9TDHMiPBegAB7DMZMxtoEcCdBGsK2QVkMpN4Q/s1600/pevensey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdrjR0iWX85QHE6_0RhoFfhX-G-2qm4UjfZuyTWyZFGqbMjeq0N2uNwzKG_nkdH7z7aOMKdgh0Adl1742AgjiQGC3n_uz4n_92ISUDmF9TDHMiPBegAB7DMZMxtoEcCdBGsK2QVkMpN4Q/s1600/pevensey.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad has still got his stone skimming down...</td></tr>
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A little further along the coastline we headed to Pevensey. This is where William the Conqueror landed in England in 1066. The most memorised date for most British school children. Funny to look across the Channel to where I live now. The world is certainly smaller now, I can't see Monsieur Hollande invading anytime soon (thank you very kindly European Union).</div>
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The Battle of Hastings did not, surprising, happen in Hastings but in fact 7 miles away in Battle. The Battle of Battle is clearly not as catchy. We wondered which came first, the word <i>battle</i> or the town <i>Battle</i>. But worry not, I have googled and can confirm that it was the word -
William the Conqueror was just really rubbing it in by building an abbey
and naming it Battle Abbey. <i>Quel idiot*. </i>Battle is a lovely town
and it has a very engaging visitor centre which really brings the
battle to life and made the trip quite moving.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRSo43djsiM9FA4LRx7DA7wZ8yLucicV-GmWf9uey9rhC0hSevFDIx7VFpEveY7XaB6UEuoT5Nhy8DhsLMn9H9fB7gpZAxFxy9Q1gCJfAshokH9lKneWRnXknsJOM3-ysoFRl4sSRZ-w/s1600/Battle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRSo43djsiM9FA4LRx7DA7wZ8yLucicV-GmWf9uey9rhC0hSevFDIx7VFpEveY7XaB6UEuoT5Nhy8DhsLMn9H9fB7gpZAxFxy9Q1gCJfAshokH9lKneWRnXknsJOM3-ysoFRl4sSRZ-w/s1600/Battle.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battle Abbey </td></tr>
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*I must add that whilst Bill's behaviour regarding his show-off abbey may have been questionable, I must thank him greatly. After the Norman invasion, French became the official language of the elite and English was only used in everyday use. Nowadays, more than a third of all words are derived from French. Fabulous news everyone! Even if you've never studied French, you will know around <a href="http://french.about.com/od/vocabulary/a/frenchinenglish.htm">15000 French words</a>. This also explains why we call the animal a <i>cow</i> but the food is <i>beef</i>, since the English word was used in the farm but by the time it arrived on the king's plate, it was <i>boeuf</i>. <i>Oh, la vache! </i></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-7346398034574373272014-04-29T13:14:00.000-07:002014-04-29T13:19:07.166-07:00Life is strange, so let's go to England<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFmtVecHTrgaq0zZufcZRUTGueRUKkCN6XwcZDpcT4tbJRwZlpT0iKy2nBaVCUVcg_RHrPBgpVOLDe0SHWI-oNFiJ3vDmYG6ayS9JoWotKKewQk5EESVUwyVzyyccMwcV8bkxi4RnJwU/s1600/DSC_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFmtVecHTrgaq0zZufcZRUTGueRUKkCN6XwcZDpcT4tbJRwZlpT0iKy2nBaVCUVcg_RHrPBgpVOLDe0SHWI-oNFiJ3vDmYG6ayS9JoWotKKewQk5EESVUwyVzyyccMwcV8bkxi4RnJwU/s1600/DSC_0100.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South coast of the UK</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A lovely little two week holiday popped up suddenly this April, how time flies in Paris. I had only planned for 5 days back in the UK but, such is life, I ended up staying the full 2 weeks. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDPcccXoUgNPY0nW3AuGfbzgWb3Tc6Q8JJczJbTukKSLMy6jAF3LVxDM9Gj7bUbWaEHWZyyByFGR5YkObjWdq2yy5LFZmFMF4C0z9fu4UZ6FXN78G2t7xnAB3qg3FvQJjqitNY1W_H5Y/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZDPcccXoUgNPY0nW3AuGfbzgWb3Tc6Q8JJczJbTukKSLMy6jAF3LVxDM9Gj7bUbWaEHWZyyByFGR5YkObjWdq2yy5LFZmFMF4C0z9fu4UZ6FXN78G2t7xnAB3qg3FvQJjqitNY1W_H5Y/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG" height="424" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Presented without comment...</td></tr>
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While I catch up on my grammar homework and job applications, I just wanted to post a few shots from my time hanging in the old motherland. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXYOiEmUb_GtZwnDolAKo9PZHUMKDmziI5QieVFFTO04GK5Wiri59L0nNPLwscqBX34tVkg_zzuCj8RHv3K2Q30qoxkotTMjSJ__uMHQRRIep6TS_NXy5pqYLNw9JGyg55OJdxfvMBU/s1600/IMG_8764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFXYOiEmUb_GtZwnDolAKo9PZHUMKDmziI5QieVFFTO04GK5Wiri59L0nNPLwscqBX34tVkg_zzuCj8RHv3K2Q30qoxkotTMjSJ__uMHQRRIep6TS_NXy5pqYLNw9JGyg55OJdxfvMBU/s1600/IMG_8764.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></div>
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Although I didn't actually get to go home at all, I still spent every second with my family (and one cheeky old friend who slipped in there!). But despite the strange circumstances, reconnecting with the people I love was a perfect way to spend my <i>quinze jours</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49M3hgNdT7dol2oSj7nqLNkR1r8KLCRgKuU7BNz6z1QsOy09WYvsVSwXuvSEKJrURG_7bIWmA2uzDc6StU19NfzShQs3InL21FA1ZSU3L_zag8AXYY0bNL18ytLyfxQvuweqSKEuMBqw/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi49M3hgNdT7dol2oSj7nqLNkR1r8KLCRgKuU7BNz6z1QsOy09WYvsVSwXuvSEKJrURG_7bIWmA2uzDc6StU19NfzShQs3InL21FA1ZSU3L_zag8AXYY0bNL18ytLyfxQvuweqSKEuMBqw/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" height="460" width="640" /></a></div>
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So thank you Great Britain. God save the Queen. How cute is Prince George? Thank you and goodnight. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-19346390149139464332014-04-10T06:00:00.001-07:002014-04-29T12:58:55.168-07:00Artkook cooking class<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-AFhxYW1F0vGJp4w3dWAKp6ze5OZfFxP7PZDaojJcQWC61NwvU4bEWVjfpggpqiS6W0aUgir7MiaFMuqC72-ui03RrEvw3K2TbueKnuN7df9ZnQqspor51JRMpKFLUyzp8NOsTiGq5o/s1600/600_345420542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-AFhxYW1F0vGJp4w3dWAKp6ze5OZfFxP7PZDaojJcQWC61NwvU4bEWVjfpggpqiS6W0aUgir7MiaFMuqC72-ui03RrEvw3K2TbueKnuN7df9ZnQqspor51JRMpKFLUyzp8NOsTiGq5o/s1600/600_345420542.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucking in after all our excellent work</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I must admit, although I love French culture, the fancy <i>haute cuisine</i> doesn't particularly rock my boat. I'm happier with a bottle of wine and a stick of bread in a parc than in a Michelin-starred restaurant. However, thanks for Artkook, I found a cooking course in my price-range and figured that if I'm going to try it, now is my moment. So one Saturday afternoon, I headed to a very swanky parisian loft to have a class with Romain, our very charming guest chef.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOF_5Z6P5ufapmifX855HfSIDAR86ZhKlBgYEaZ-AH1kfzesM6ZzxnxG37SUSk7KUml_gELqfVBpa2iDiBvjZz6K8zbvNcKYLJp-l125TU6k-WmaS1dVXCkhcTUh8NKzwzO9cNDO1bMdM/s1600/cooking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOF_5Z6P5ufapmifX855HfSIDAR86ZhKlBgYEaZ-AH1kfzesM6ZzxnxG37SUSk7KUml_gELqfVBpa2iDiBvjZz6K8zbvNcKYLJp-l125TU6k-WmaS1dVXCkhcTUh8NKzwzO9cNDO1bMdM/s1600/cooking.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thankfully the Finnish girl was brave enough to tackle the fish...</td></tr>
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I don't think the translations will sound as nice in English so here is a copy and paste of our menu:<br />
<br />
- <i>Risotto aux betteraves, coulis d'herbes et marscarpone de parmesan</i><br />
<i> -Lieu jaune rôti, pastilla de légumes aux épices du maghreb, écume de poivron rouge</i><br />
<i>- Tartare d'ananas au citron vert, fruit de la passion et mousse coco</i><br />
<br />
Simple translation = beetroot risotto, pollack, then pineapple with some nice bits! <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQ4LcTfj4GMySsNZnjbI9kkI5Q8ZDr1VOHw-xCpP242fm8gUZXsPhZCJNRa-HDkq6_QdVcUVVKZbBL9Qe9kXY_9iguPlHK7nO7wPiXL_0MSaFWWXaCxWYh3LNkVVnPDDJzugn08rLfS8/s1600/cooking3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQ4LcTfj4GMySsNZnjbI9kkI5Q8ZDr1VOHw-xCpP242fm8gUZXsPhZCJNRa-HDkq6_QdVcUVVKZbBL9Qe9kXY_9iguPlHK7nO7wPiXL_0MSaFWWXaCxWYh3LNkVVnPDDJzugn08rLfS8/s1600/cooking3.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Great team work, could be mistaken for <i>Saturday Morning Kitchen</i>...</td></tr>
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The class is supposed to be as hands on as possible, which, quite rightly, includes doing the washing up. So the final meal is only as good as you make it. And I must say, we were pretty impressed even if it took a little longer than expected. My favourite was definitely the risotto, since the beetroot was so gorgeous! Look at those colours. Yum.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaK9MRedFqXJ0nwfcjw6aOi_tNy22Ks2u20MixtZppzdziYUr26XQrBjfcVmS7ynqv4TtCNPL14glp7QtvxBaNyGF7oMDda_W7Y33gD4XeH8XG9cEGogIg2TDJMeEkvntXlFj52pBI7Ak/s1600/food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaK9MRedFqXJ0nwfcjw6aOi_tNy22Ks2u20MixtZppzdziYUr26XQrBjfcVmS7ynqv4TtCNPL14glp7QtvxBaNyGF7oMDda_W7Y33gD4XeH8XG9cEGogIg2TDJMeEkvntXlFj52pBI7Ak/s1600/food.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our final result. Qu'est-ce que t'en penses?</td></tr>
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Three hours of cooking, homemade wine and the meal itself, it was an amazing evening. Find the group on <a href="http://www.meetup.com/Artkook-Cooking-Class-with-Famous-Chef/">meetup.com</a> where the lovely Jessie is always organising new events. Nice to enjoy some more sophisticated French food. Hold the escargot though, that is still too soon.<br />
<br />
Thanks to Jessie for letting me use her brilliant photos!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-45191386782249154282014-04-04T11:12:00.000-07:002014-04-04T11:12:46.612-07:00The Positive Destruction of Books<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2yUPBRBEaywPWujaoovmfZ3DX81csYlIKVUy0T6STzvH7uKnG_1uqOb8XvNoiOP-GgwTR8Dz2_-h6hUkC1EECi5zmEpsexoR8juyOMEIO4LXAlLpO6X2RTkJR-439R6YYDJgB_Bg0Ss/s1600/destroyed+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2yUPBRBEaywPWujaoovmfZ3DX81csYlIKVUy0T6STzvH7uKnG_1uqOb8XvNoiOP-GgwTR8Dz2_-h6hUkC1EECi5zmEpsexoR8juyOMEIO4LXAlLpO6X2RTkJR-439R6YYDJgB_Bg0Ss/s1600/destroyed+book.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isn't it lovely?!</td></tr>
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I love reading. I read everyday on the bus and in the metro. Sometimes I read in the bath and, yes, sometimes my books have to dry out afterwards on the radiator. But what can I do? <br />
<br />
The point I want to make is that reading is not something I do in a comfy reading chair in the corner of my personal library (although a girl can dream). I read out and about and therefore I am a Believer in the Positive Destruction of Books. I know it is a controversial subject amongst my bookworm friends, but I break the spine. I'll do it almost immediately, and will keep breaking it the whole way through until the final page. I shove big books into small bags and the pages become dog-eared and a little bit dirty. To me, if I have destroyed a book, it means that I loved it. It went everywhere with me and I manhandled it in every way possible and now it will take pride of place on my bookshelf with the other worn-out books.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYKQhQETDxa_2FcuA3yb4dRHUpXT1WIjl6ANUd5X59IDJE7Ocsvf4M1mwPvD7gS5JjwxdxAeo8LTOKczsjlWdyCu8OiM4SBHenjyDxgSsDbQPvT7SJIzP_AcNOtaS-23iI4eu5g3imuU/s1600/books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYKQhQETDxa_2FcuA3yb4dRHUpXT1WIjl6ANUd5X59IDJE7Ocsvf4M1mwPvD7gS5JjwxdxAeo8LTOKczsjlWdyCu8OiM4SBHenjyDxgSsDbQPvT7SJIzP_AcNOtaS-23iI4eu5g3imuU/s1600/books.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My current read, my amazing library card, my next read</td></tr>
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I think this stems from my mid-teenage years when I didn't like reading but everyone else in my family did. So now I prove that I read. Look at this book, "Isn't it well read", they'll say! It doesn't make much sense but I think my books are beautiful. It is clear to the eye that I've pulled out each word, and the characters have been forced to come everywhere with me, the cover has been fused into my hand and crushed under the pressure of my need to get to the end. I destroy books, but positively.<br />
<br />
Are you a spine-conserver or a spine-breaker? I am having to be careful now that I have a library card, but I'm sure the librarians will understand! Thanks for Monika, for bringing this up over cocktails on Thursday, it's always nice to be reminded of the awesomeness of reading!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-81373111519602008992014-03-31T10:40:00.000-07:002014-03-31T10:40:24.601-07:00DisneyLand Paris / DeeznayLond Paree<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4yJWL50pIfHazcpPiO23zBGiQ94SUR2NU1PLfx5Gp6HLn1Ems_STRH8qEbiog9EjNwPeKRJn-vn38qPTi3WuqELaUpRVd2HPjt5OaixozNosAu5en-wmmr890fv4O-ByyA0O7364zmg/s1600/disneyland.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4yJWL50pIfHazcpPiO23zBGiQ94SUR2NU1PLfx5Gp6HLn1Ems_STRH8qEbiog9EjNwPeKRJn-vn38qPTi3WuqELaUpRVd2HPjt5OaixozNosAu5en-wmmr890fv4O-ByyA0O7364zmg/s1600/disneyland.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just like real life</td></tr>
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Depending on the day you ask, my top five Disney films are: <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXlgmqHpBkU">Beauty and The Beast</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlU_CYhym0o">Aladdin</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALFhBqIAMfw">The Lion King</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP3XjLvoDH0">Tangled</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0MK7qz13bU">Frozen</a></i>. As much as I appreciate the older classics, you can tell I was born in the 90s. The Fates were on my side last week as I met a Finnish girl who, with her annual pass, could get me into <a href="http://www.disneylandparis.fr/index.html">DisneyLand</a> for the lovely little price of 21€ on Sunday. I have been to the American parks in Florida and California but it was over ten years ago and now that I am A Grown Up, it was time to relive the magic. If you are a Disney-sceptic, please be so kind as to turn back now because what follows will be unabashed enthusiasm for everything. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkzgnw7OAKIaqOGBdhEMewM0kK7YnqUv8ZWX2UmdZ734DrgLDeiYunNFzw85ZYlwdnHSBfY005nwl9K71-wiUEEHYQKuXkmKROxN21seRW1SNlRIhnP8Pp2yxlB2ovTVDxQT8vtQyNb8/s1600/disney+fun.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkzgnw7OAKIaqOGBdhEMewM0kK7YnqUv8ZWX2UmdZ734DrgLDeiYunNFzw85ZYlwdnHSBfY005nwl9K71-wiUEEHYQKuXkmKROxN21seRW1SNlRIhnP8Pp2yxlB2ovTVDxQT8vtQyNb8/s1600/disney+fun.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monsieur Disney et Mickey Mouse</td></tr>
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Since my friend was an expert, we had a complex plan involving Fastpasses and Tactical-Park-Moving that I've completely forgotten but that meant that we easily saw everything we wanted to, even leaving time for a leisurely cocktail. Turns out I love a good adrenaline rush and my highlights were <i>The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror</i> and <i>The Rock 'n' Roller Coaster</i>. But the smaller rides are still pretty awesome with special shout-outs to the <i>Le Carrousel de Lancelot</i> and <i>Blanche-Neige et les Sept Nains</i>. Just like the names of the rides, the whole park is in a mixture of French and English which was fun. The French C-3PO is pretty charming.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAwinktMB1pBAvQKYjyKbe7AD_R-2InVRGpLUX1cDdEuIc2Cmss5H-sBvhyphenhyphenedh1rU926qziGvOMJqWZX5uLNxs56HLoeb4ibtPyzyhWg3NsbaIXrfpz3OCxZ13Py4mq5ZEHRp_zG01UQ/s1600/disney+eve.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtAwinktMB1pBAvQKYjyKbe7AD_R-2InVRGpLUX1cDdEuIc2Cmss5H-sBvhyphenhyphenedh1rU926qziGvOMJqWZX5uLNxs56HLoeb4ibtPyzyhWg3NsbaIXrfpz3OCxZ13Py4mq5ZEHRp_zG01UQ/s1600/disney+eve.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The perks of being A Grown Up: Disney cocktails, staying up late, last métro home</td></tr>
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The park quietened down as it got darker so we made the most of it with a peaceful wander through <i>La Cabane des Robinson</i> which was the Best Tree House Ever and if they posted it on airbnb, I'd be there. It all felt so magical at night with the copious amounts of fairy lights and instrumental music. We settled down for the fireworks show. If you don't well up then your heart is frozen cold and we need to get you to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lWtTdRmSrYQ">Pabbie</a>, the troll king, ASAP.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFfD3gkVueqj3eIqq3TksDgnDJrWCent0vy2OHtl1mlJ7HN4tEGE3_BeW8MVZtBDXQ5VQPQD2storBHZKBNCKj-o_shhkzLWVJmIT3y8Pf62CYOGEVZzr_dDtNXi100i2nh-n6iXZ72I/s1600/fireworks.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJFfD3gkVueqj3eIqq3TksDgnDJrWCent0vy2OHtl1mlJ7HN4tEGE3_BeW8MVZtBDXQ5VQPQD2storBHZKBNCKj-o_shhkzLWVJmIT3y8Pf62CYOGEVZzr_dDtNXi100i2nh-n6iXZ72I/s1600/fireworks.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Projections! Fountains! Music! And a few explosives...</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj14jY6PVRZ3NYWlEaFmWSNYk3JdTKGpYe0TwENZreiTUiEM-o9wsZBlUZsgCx8xHVdtNvy7aj5qgyMK9l7mwXZR325yrCSoeEYlJJtMqCFWXtCuk9noWVMcKPVtBtisrLdqp3mAjpdxI/s1600/mouzaia+pics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj14jY6PVRZ3NYWlEaFmWSNYk3JdTKGpYe0TwENZreiTUiEM-o9wsZBlUZsgCx8xHVdtNvy7aj5qgyMK9l7mwXZR325yrCSoeEYlJJtMqCFWXtCuk9noWVMcKPVtBtisrLdqp3mAjpdxI/s1600/mouzaia+pics.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mouzaïa in the 19th: a hidden village inside Paris</td></tr>
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At the recommendation of one of the women that I live with, I grabbed my camera and spent an hour exploring the unusual neighbourhood which centers around Rue de Mouzaïa. Behind concrete tower blocks, you can find this little haven of flowers and felines. There were no tourists, and I even got some funny looks as these Parisians are certainly not used to having their territory snapped. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipa3Me7CjVyR-Msv3aqfrAbrPFsjamMJKtybPK3nmIiZ6HQ4PVSPqZLGZ8EO8-5laQm_HOz0GRrKp_KNvZY906V8Ta4uMdNy-kla2H_vFCK8inpAyYeIvgIErpl7cbWmRPSsZO82EbYoc/s1600/mouzaia+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipa3Me7CjVyR-Msv3aqfrAbrPFsjamMJKtybPK3nmIiZ6HQ4PVSPqZLGZ8EO8-5laQm_HOz0GRrKp_KNvZY906V8Ta4uMdNy-kla2H_vFCK8inpAyYeIvgIErpl7cbWmRPSsZO82EbYoc/s1600/mouzaia+2.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></div>
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This area makes a fun change from the beautiful (but repetitive) Haussmann style of central Paris. Little pedestrian alleyways run off the main street and meandering up and down them, you'll find cute gardens and houses better suited to a village far away from the capital. There are plenty of helpful signs warning you about the dangerous and savage animal population, so thankfully I knew to watch myself around this wild cat. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPf2DHEHayeEIUhAxUgyjDWvkf0ZsPMZcg2JQgJhlkDp97pM02_8TvbXndE7H8uE4GiS0PxGZqx-L0bIJZFc5KzYI7bVh8kpXVOYJ8LoVtguIUGbM84Eks8wcaG6So28nwWD-asKQNvA/s1600/mouzaia+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxPf2DHEHayeEIUhAxUgyjDWvkf0ZsPMZcg2JQgJhlkDp97pM02_8TvbXndE7H8uE4GiS0PxGZqx-L0bIJZFc5KzYI7bVh8kpXVOYJ8LoVtguIUGbM84Eks8wcaG6So28nwWD-asKQNvA/s1600/mouzaia+3.jpg" height="236" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUiSPhHaV3x4te6BsX_O8TUYfXrWKrkFR2nrYa2ZW2joQN0Xw9793oCOyc91end5CbTOyGaO3JfNMPk1nTXrG6vFO-hH_KvcrYYh8PRt01CQxntDb_SsdD4arALa62gm-pKovn4aihDo/s1600/mouzaia+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZUiSPhHaV3x4te6BsX_O8TUYfXrWKrkFR2nrYa2ZW2joQN0Xw9793oCOyc91end5CbTOyGaO3JfNMPk1nTXrG6vFO-hH_KvcrYYh8PRt01CQxntDb_SsdD4arALa62gm-pKovn4aihDo/s1600/mouzaia+4.jpg" height="128" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The charming details of the villas</td></tr>
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I saw families playing in their gardens which is certainly something you miss in the city where a private garden comes with a hefty price tag. The charm is in the detail so this is not a place to visit if you're in a rush but is a great add on if you're heading to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. As I happened to be...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_I2VYPBgJ2QQhQmS9mZZcxO94wAEGbixNl6ewbGIFue4KBBQS_jfLC15fb7yDAokXQfz5zukqpZ3ysVMx_6m7Y1c828voUkPjVsw7AaQMBFpgdv7L6cnVawJ7m04pWX1g6PeIjttDZ5w/s1600/buttes+chaumont1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_I2VYPBgJ2QQhQmS9mZZcxO94wAEGbixNl6ewbGIFue4KBBQS_jfLC15fb7yDAokXQfz5zukqpZ3ysVMx_6m7Y1c828voUkPjVsw7AaQMBFpgdv7L6cnVawJ7m04pWX1g6PeIjttDZ5w/s1600/buttes+chaumont1.jpg" height="160" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parc des Buttes Chaumont</td></tr>
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I had been invited to a little picnic and so four ladies gathered with wine, bread, cheese and radishes for a thoroughly French meal. We nattered away until dark, until we were kindly welcomed back to one of the girls' pad for snuggles with her cat. Lots of wine was had, and the next morning, I had about 50 blurry photos of that cat. A good time indeed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXzW_CYM1bXz1IGdj11cKez-Vdb5CqybPYPc0hIH5guOjfrpVaDLER9VldSz_7lSW1Kvd9T-HAJpPSduAjBQQOfQyejygtYo8gg56cqVRWzPB5RNZO13W6wDs5raD9L9RdpGdOLgPz6w/s1600/picnic+buttes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXzW_CYM1bXz1IGdj11cKez-Vdb5CqybPYPc0hIH5guOjfrpVaDLER9VldSz_7lSW1Kvd9T-HAJpPSduAjBQQOfQyejygtYo8gg56cqVRWzPB5RNZO13W6wDs5raD9L9RdpGdOLgPz6w/s1600/picnic+buttes.jpg" height="160" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wine and whiskers</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-87301035504246995152014-03-16T02:51:00.000-07:002014-03-16T03:02:21.054-07:00Un weekend à Paris: Canal Saint-Martin and Jim Broadbent<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTnyiBgqHHqXxqSk8SH3ZbJDFpTlB2VCOu5WThT4Bl8TUwjNCt9uXMw2DwsABYM4IPpcNJZwxvbX_m5SefrSxh550oNAhNs9SZX3zUxepugoW01wJMuvtAbcU1HrWR_Q6zMDdePUtbuE/s1600/Canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFTnyiBgqHHqXxqSk8SH3ZbJDFpTlB2VCOu5WThT4Bl8TUwjNCt9uXMw2DwsABYM4IPpcNJZwxvbX_m5SefrSxh550oNAhNs9SZX3zUxepugoW01wJMuvtAbcU1HrWR_Q6zMDdePUtbuE/s1600/Canal.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Canal Saint-Martin: the picnic and protest edition</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <i>Les tous petits plaisirs</i>. If you haven't seen <i>Amélie, </i>you need to correct that immediately and learn to enjoy the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-kY7JEGrNI">small pleasures in life</a>. Such as skipping stones on Canal Saint-Martin. My classmate very wisely proposed a picnic by the canal last weekend and so we ate our <a href="http://www.au-sesame.com/">Sésame</a> bagels, chat about life and watched the world go by. A gorgeous afternoon, enjoyed with many Parisians. Protesters marched past, stylish kids scooted along and boats passed through the locks. Simply charming!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpS6fiXruZzKS3JgQGxJI961Nbv_9WyKfNoU9-m2am2sN6cAnfPOJYPWmPlQ7hqc5L0v5-3MGtv7bHXTUt_MVwux9UIq0YMRreL_Ov7cXg-s0EYq0BvZyjzFgttYamRB52dpm91C45zxE/s1600/people+canal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpS6fiXruZzKS3JgQGxJI961Nbv_9WyKfNoU9-m2am2sN6cAnfPOJYPWmPlQ7hqc5L0v5-3MGtv7bHXTUt_MVwux9UIq0YMRreL_Ov7cXg-s0EYq0BvZyjzFgttYamRB52dpm91C45zxE/s1600/people+canal.jpg" height="212" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Popular with the locals, we searched for an empty spot </span><br />
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</style><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My weekend in
Paris was finished with Roger Mitchell's <i><span style="color: red;"><a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2392326/">Un week-end à Paris</a></span>, </i>newly released here in France but came out in
the UK back in October as <i>Le Week-End</i>.
I was completely enchanted by this film. Beautiful shots of Paris, a honest
look at a long-term relationship, and quiet humour. I loved the throwback to
Godard's <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1MKUJN7vUk">Band
à Part</a> </i>and I now dream of recreating the dance scene in a little
bistro. It was a film that I wanted to instantly see again once the credits
rolled and think if, like me, you enjoy New Wave films, Jim Broadbent or <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UApyd20yK5s">Jeff
Goldblum</a> do not miss this!</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-22674186980341241912014-03-14T10:58:00.000-07:002014-03-14T10:58:13.366-07:00Blue Bike Tours, Paris à vélo<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOQ-imD24eSxjbwosAqOLijcVLyoK3GmMCXfhoG0kodmIpEGDVuAibkRNATa8Hjk-W5ZYXsEX6lPrr2S9d8hSobC7cl-juDFeBXaiozn5shJTHD5QJWOaWsI_kevWuhgeAoLmFlg7Wj8/s1600/Blue+bikes+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOQ-imD24eSxjbwosAqOLijcVLyoK3GmMCXfhoG0kodmIpEGDVuAibkRNATa8Hjk-W5ZYXsEX6lPrr2S9d8hSobC7cl-juDFeBXaiozn5shJTHD5QJWOaWsI_kevWuhgeAoLmFlg7Wj8/s1600/Blue+bikes+pic.jpg" height="213" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.bluebiketours.com/paris/">Blue Bike Tours</a>, their bikes are indeed very blue.</td></tr>
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The wind in my hair, speeding around little street corners, pinging my bell at tourists - Paris on a bike was certainly a tempting idea for a Sunday morning in springtime. Except, bicycles are deathtraps. Whilst I love them, I am not a confident cyclist and still have a lovely scar from my tumble in Pushkar. So, thinking safety in numbers, I signed up with the Blue Bike Tours company for a '<a href="http://www.bluebiketours.com/paris/paris-secret-bike-tour">Secrets of Paris</a>' tour. </div>
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I can't recommend them enough. Our guide Sonia was as cute as a button, gave me such fab Paris tips and we had a lovely little ride around the Latin Quarter and the Marais. I felt so safe on my bike (who was named Marie Curie) and afterwards I was pretty convinced that Paris is a great city for cycling.</div>
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We began at Gare d'Austerlitz then set off along the canal before we stopped on le Pont de l'Archevêché, otherwise known as one of the Love Lock Bridges. I have never added a padlock to one of the three Parisian bridges that lovers grace with their padlocks. I think it's a cute idea however I've also heard that the bridges aren't really build to withstand that kind of weight so... falling into the Seine, not such a cute idea. But it looks cool.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggg__v4G1Nn0wlNBynYKEh89wf-W_-tK86KK6QeUaYjcwbsVQwJm0MGIx7n39z0Sv0ngLk8zg8RO2uKGpcbc7qofCMj6bd4YVF2VKQEJ6peY2ZMrA532wDWwdlzC1PF-DwY-Z7GbwIUoM/s1600/Locks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggg__v4G1Nn0wlNBynYKEh89wf-W_-tK86KK6QeUaYjcwbsVQwJm0MGIx7n39z0Sv0ngLk8zg8RO2uKGpcbc7qofCMj6bd4YVF2VKQEJ6peY2ZMrA532wDWwdlzC1PF-DwY-Z7GbwIUoM/s1600/Locks.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Le Pont de l'Archevêché and its view onto Notre Dame</td></tr>
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Staying <i>rive gauche, </i>we went to every tourist's favourite bookshop <a href="http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com/">Shakespeare and Company</a>. Now, this shop is awesome; it has little nooks and crannies perfect for reading, typewriters, hidden (and-not-so-hidden) notes and a lovely cat. But it is also very expensive and very touristy so prepare to use your elbows to get to the good bits. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shakespeare and Company, complete with Kitty, open piano and writing hideouts</td></tr>
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The tour circles around the Latin Quarter and Sonia gave us lots of brilliant little factoids and stories. We finished in the Marais and walked our bikes through the unusually packed Place des Vosges where the sun-worshippers had flocked. The tours lasts about four hours with lots of stops to take photos and a longer stop midway for a lunch. I was joined by a Welsh couple and a Parisian family of five so with only eight people you don't feel like too much of a peloton. Highly recommended, next step is braving the <a href="http://en.velib.paris.fr/">Vélib</a>...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PCCDCDFt3yxQPO1FNMyExoEQLMawg_AdJD6cYgw_U_fuoevBOOVqPQdyzUAWhSi3RQ5gHK4bG6tBWtyLjC1qJvU0YR0CnQLfrIAmlaTXKjBlp5GyqClCAWfdFPRkFcftEXiYSQAs0Ts/s1600/place+des+voges.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PCCDCDFt3yxQPO1FNMyExoEQLMawg_AdJD6cYgw_U_fuoevBOOVqPQdyzUAWhSi3RQ5gHK4bG6tBWtyLjC1qJvU0YR0CnQLfrIAmlaTXKjBlp5GyqClCAWfdFPRkFcftEXiYSQAs0Ts/s1600/place+des+voges.jpg" height="320" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Place des Vosges, housed my Parisian, Monsieur Victor Hugo</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-22980248676231800402014-03-06T12:52:00.002-08:002014-03-23T14:12:08.151-07:00Jardin des Plantes: home to a thousand and one orchids<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7JgxG3qr4D1AdwK3nfApmkLXcCWehvBZqhLhV0VTz_zvcxhek_MRe5OeVrMD0eahtXDuyldsURXlYqxzUV6V1PEuuoZAbrRWoj1UMFOLr7XPbP4Q4BItmVRgHNG86FeBuW37WZ64oGg/s1600/bandstand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz7JgxG3qr4D1AdwK3nfApmkLXcCWehvBZqhLhV0VTz_zvcxhek_MRe5OeVrMD0eahtXDuyldsURXlYqxzUV6V1PEuuoZAbrRWoj1UMFOLr7XPbP4Q4BItmVRgHNG86FeBuW37WZ64oGg/s1600/bandstand.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mysterious gazebo atop the labyrinth may cause expressive dancing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-DjyDaxeXMRpa8LY0fg2cX7RDvTEo_Kaa1P7FFPterT-ETAMsQ2xmtW7ZKl5DXm5qecOTlnlqFmsKw6u1EpNJPkRc3VTMjds7dJmZnZxJ3i185pxm2YUNnrWOOCGFOADIX_5wXvW2ic/s1600/jardin+de+plants.jpg" height="320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine hits the 5th arrondissement</td></tr>
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To <i>profite bien du soleil</i>, after my classes I headed to the <a href="http://www.jardindesplantes.net/">Jardin des Plantes</a> to soak up the vitamin D along with every other Parisian with a lunch break. This garden has a <a href="http://cultureandstuff.com/2011/08/15/strange-meetings-the-royal-menagerie-at-versailles/">pretty rad history</a>, thanks to the little Menagerie. This zoo housed all the animals that survived the French Revolution in the Royal Menagerie of the Château de Versailles, although most had been eaten or sold. Whilst it was being constructed a lion, a polar bear and a sheep (amongst others) had to live in harmony in the basement of the museum. When it was finally ready, visitors apparently spat at the lion and yelled obscenities at it since it represented the guillotined Louis XVI, and he too, was once the king of the jungle.<br />
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However, not one to release my anger on wild animals, I popped into the Mille et une Orchidées exposition to admire the crazy selection of beautiful orchids. I was definitely the youngest person there by around 65 years, however since watching <a href="http://www.upworthy.com/these-women-were-deemed-unusual-in-their-societies-now-theyre-deemed-bad-ass-brave-women?c=ufb1">this awesome video</a> about Marianne North, I have decided that flowers are basically The Best Thing Ever for a young lady to enjoy. Transported to the Tropics I wandered the expositions in an absolute daze - the sudden warmth, the sweet smells and the complete confusion of having just stepped out of Paris and into a jungle. Magical.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsSkhOlULmXXa5TaXTKGW3Fonig6wm9iprbWhIxQ76_g16H5THPKb75YdJ2T9OfHMYvite93RK6KNx561Ip5y5tlBMYUquLFZFBweBlQMj5EuTz_-yPhfTp1tFOUWf7ylvKzR558Z-gY/s1600/flowers+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsSkhOlULmXXa5TaXTKGW3Fonig6wm9iprbWhIxQ76_g16H5THPKb75YdJ2T9OfHMYvite93RK6KNx561Ip5y5tlBMYUquLFZFBweBlQMj5EuTz_-yPhfTp1tFOUWf7ylvKzR558Z-gY/s1600/flowers+1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jardindesplantes.net/mille-et-une-orchid-es">Mille et une Orchidées</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1SKBeOvoGQeGuaf1NKBgj6hqbg_3pc45KWtUXp_o_AwlP9pWLeYqVm2iXqje0ovelAECTxIZg065U9QDm2tVGqpA37zMit4l1iF3c058cuGz7-z9G09uhkDpPRucRnpkUFQrCf78M6c/s1600/flowers+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1SKBeOvoGQeGuaf1NKBgj6hqbg_3pc45KWtUXp_o_AwlP9pWLeYqVm2iXqje0ovelAECTxIZg065U9QDm2tVGqpA37zMit4l1iF3c058cuGz7-z9G09uhkDpPRucRnpkUFQrCf78M6c/s1600/flowers+2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only missing a paint brush...</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-28618751876764725232014-03-03T08:14:00.000-08:002014-03-03T08:14:10.748-08:00Tea Time in Paris: A Priori Thé<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zIZYav3GLb18v5YCzHKSV6vS26R6BJhpSlleEVfQ9Zy25OdYHLhneseGpc5UvbxFSj9HW-xQ2_oJpdS_x7-jBEgErjvDPgzYUr_Lt_-oyUBP38Wn93ZXZnp9vfbifxWhKsdMWt4ImOs/s1600/galerie+vivienne.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zIZYav3GLb18v5YCzHKSV6vS26R6BJhpSlleEVfQ9Zy25OdYHLhneseGpc5UvbxFSj9HW-xQ2_oJpdS_x7-jBEgErjvDPgzYUr_Lt_-oyUBP38Wn93ZXZnp9vfbifxWhKsdMWt4ImOs/s1600/galerie+vivienne.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Galerie Vivienne</td></tr>
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On a rainy
afternoon in Paris, what could be nicer than a spot of afternoon tea? A
very international group of twenty-something girls met in the <a href="http://www.galerie-vivienne.com/">Galerie Vivienne</a>,
one of the many hidden passages in the second arrondissement. In the
18th century, these passages were popping up all over the city, turning
it into a shopping labyrinth. Of those that survive, some are definitely
of the shabby-chic variety but the beautifully preserved Galerie
Vivienne's amazing mosaics and grand architecture transports you back to
the belle époque.</div>
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We headed to <a href="http://apriorithe.com/">A Priori Thé</a> (a nice French pun to show that tea <i>is</i>
an absolute priority) for small talk and scones. After indulging, I
wandered off with a Swedish dancer I had just met to explore and admire
the curiosities in the windows of Galerie Vivienne and other passages in
the area. If you fancy a little window shopping away from the tourist
crowds, this is the area to delve into - old maps, faded books, retro
toys and lots of lovely treats.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5OsdX5PV4fmXc0jRFTuUXDddJoBT5r5pNknlxJ4spYD6ZB0qc_J6pAo1vwSTGlU8vAiTKwUhAQ5R4Iowy46xdbNVW2DnBLvwQnQgtK59wIURQRdnOa4W1arYlk_upe8jHonooLrV_lo/s1600/old+curiosity+shop.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5OsdX5PV4fmXc0jRFTuUXDddJoBT5r5pNknlxJ4spYD6ZB0qc_J6pAo1vwSTGlU8vAiTKwUhAQ5R4Iowy46xdbNVW2DnBLvwQnQgtK59wIURQRdnOa4W1arYlk_upe8jHonooLrV_lo/s1600/old+curiosity+shop.jpg" height="160" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magical mermaid skull and hot-air balloon voyages - some of the many delights to be found</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-4772956205018259912014-02-26T09:41:00.000-08:002014-02-26T13:48:29.300-08:00Studying French at the Sorbonne<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0jn617nzHmBpvOO2504Gwg5Eew9eUD3H_JKH8ZoAHnAFbZHdf4DDS93V9W4vakreIi3v_lv0uSfS4lXKJAjdrP9z8umFVLt_i3Ah_hJJVL8UnRzV5Fiiv2okQt3fohYkqt6ZX6hnOIA/s1600/IMG_8422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0jn617nzHmBpvOO2504Gwg5Eew9eUD3H_JKH8ZoAHnAFbZHdf4DDS93V9W4vakreIi3v_lv0uSfS4lXKJAjdrP9z8umFVLt_i3Ah_hJJVL8UnRzV5Fiiv2okQt3fohYkqt6ZX6hnOIA/s1600/IMG_8422.jpg" height="402" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sorbonne</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibM4ocRWdsaNceuj9snSm5Ds3bpWrby00HHrzmViFT-Qj7b66_LCo9DSC50Jtux3mOlTXuWZB3bph6Zckt9cW6pUhSkQB-bskKqCXo5a0P97Zacbgz7XDzd41wDrXSa-sFId7JINGrrE/s1600/IMG_8433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgibM4ocRWdsaNceuj9snSm5Ds3bpWrby00HHrzmViFT-Qj7b66_LCo9DSC50Jtux3mOlTXuWZB3bph6Zckt9cW6pUhSkQB-bskKqCXo5a0P97Zacbgz7XDzd41wDrXSa-sFId7JINGrrE/s1600/IMG_8433.jpg" height="402" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Language School</td></tr>
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So I'm in Paris to brush up my French skills which have been unsurprisingly neglected since my graduation last July. Tempted by the prestigious name of the Sorbonne, I enrolled at the <i>Cours de Civilisation Françaises de la Sorbonne</i> to follow the 'Cours Complet with a specialisation in Business French' for the Spring Semester.<br />
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I was a little hesitant about signing up since I felt I'd been running on the educational hamster wheel long enough, however this seemed to be different enough to jump back on for a few more months. My decision was actually inspired by a British woman I met in India who, like me, studied French at university and worked as an au pair for a French family. Despite having had very similar experiences, I was jealous of her living in the capital during such an exciting period of history. She was an au pair in Paris in 1968 and enrolled in the CCFS. She said she was badly paid and so after strolling the baby up and down the Champs Elysées, her only treats were her trips the the cinema. Woman after my own heart! Whilst I can't relieve the excitement of the <a href="http://www.gerard-aime.com/phototheque/picture.php?/10552/category/1771">Cinémathèque Française</a> in the 60s, I certainly can study French at the Sorbonne. And go to the cinema. A lot. Like, everyday for my first week.<br />
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After two weeks of classes, I couldn't be happier. My French teacher looks just like <a href="http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a221/tanyonghoe/frozone.jpg">Frozone</a> (including chic turtleneck) and today I had a lecture from a man in a cravat who, whilst the students were filing in, played harpsichord music. <i>En plus, </i>the French practice is pretty great too.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClKdynKA_1ITmkdy11ORpU1HnsRBg7r2nCuxb728qI-AzK1Mysnu_Ai67JuiCfeVjCRWQW4jsNxSbEec3i9VXNRSNLNHuqSMeOAuN8SyEBktlAqOroDGOUV_FGd2Q9OXPr_ODdFv6nKY/s1600/IMG_8412.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClKdynKA_1ITmkdy11ORpU1HnsRBg7r2nCuxb728qI-AzK1Mysnu_Ai67JuiCfeVjCRWQW4jsNxSbEec3i9VXNRSNLNHuqSMeOAuN8SyEBktlAqOroDGOUV_FGd2Q9OXPr_ODdFv6nKY/s1600/IMG_8412.jpg" height="363" width="267" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA0Cb2LsgYjNLExFLVOAN5CfI-3BvG0oRah94zpmbOAwI8XLM4qSp7eTb1-YdavA5Jk4e_C3_M4kzMbHJBv4ZdzZArhSaIXYvOLCwIz3E3j3Pp7uB2dz7YA69oOuucKn0GXOYsJK9c3sI/s1600/IMG_8418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA0Cb2LsgYjNLExFLVOAN5CfI-3BvG0oRah94zpmbOAwI8XLM4qSp7eTb1-YdavA5Jk4e_C3_M4kzMbHJBv4ZdzZArhSaIXYvOLCwIz3E3j3Pp7uB2dz7YA69oOuucKn0GXOYsJK9c3sI/s1600/IMG_8418.jpg" height="361" width="457" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunchbreak in the Jardin du Luxembourg</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiClKdynKA_1ITmkdy11ORpU1HnsRBg7r2nCuxb728qI-AzK1Mysnu_Ai67JuiCfeVjCRWQW4jsNxSbEec3i9VXNRSNLNHuqSMeOAuN8SyEBktlAqOroDGOUV_FGd2Q9OXPr_ODdFv6nKY/s1600/IMG_8412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366878685383234483noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6820415218945215870.post-23900715964221141802014-02-25T15:48:00.000-08:002014-02-26T13:47:10.539-08:00The flâneuse in Paris<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQoI279dwnq_eRKqCoTHDNqFtw_e4gYwgUCv4rHSC2sMjqP4Oy-Moxhub8zKbbQnvySLximVBl_zmSGr64t14nrfbuPg25yElFlTYMcJAcH5wTWVs-tbJmhHWZm_ELGqvmLJgwO7lFoM/s1600/DSC_0273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQoI279dwnq_eRKqCoTHDNqFtw_e4gYwgUCv4rHSC2sMjqP4Oy-Moxhub8zKbbQnvySLximVBl_zmSGr64t14nrfbuPg25yElFlTYMcJAcH5wTWVs-tbJmhHWZm_ELGqvmLJgwO7lFoM/s1600/DSC_0273.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxmb2yQg02Z4H0sdaz_NEcvpnN-BgC0h-ztL8E8xwpODt2SkfxZFkVHa0X92lpl_KtBzB243gaSBJYGlOUSD5bF4le2eJxZmfOy4ygblhbdZ6R9NeYYokj2VeV1YvP5rxTCuf9x60f0E/s1600/DSC_0274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxmb2yQg02Z4H0sdaz_NEcvpnN-BgC0h-ztL8E8xwpODt2SkfxZFkVHa0X92lpl_KtBzB243gaSBJYGlOUSD5bF4le2eJxZmfOy4ygblhbdZ6R9NeYYokj2VeV1YvP5rxTCuf9x60f0E/s1600/DSC_0274.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUl4kuOhRY9mFM7c4fvxOqYMozb7i1ieEfHfLUTq_1WS6qYdfsi9IPrqGu9LtMqIhsfC-npxuZx6OORAFUUUzCx2zGfrTj6Nx3mx1DT2iOwaZG-o1tl2ISz34ukUnRg0q2Mj2JaCLjFc/s1600/DSC_0254.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUl4kuOhRY9mFM7c4fvxOqYMozb7i1ieEfHfLUTq_1WS6qYdfsi9IPrqGu9LtMqIhsfC-npxuZx6OORAFUUUzCx2zGfrTj6Nx3mx1DT2iOwaZG-o1tl2ISz34ukUnRg0q2Mj2JaCLjFc/s1600/DSC_0254.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
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A rather gloomy day of sightseeing in the City of Light marked my arrival in Paris. I've been here before, many times, thanks to my Erasmus year. But never to live permanently. Well... perhaps permanently. TBC.</div>
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The first thing on my list was the exhibition of Brassaï photographs at the Hôtel de Ville. Amazingly, I found myself among Parisians on their lunch breaks and not another tourist in sight; although maybe they were just blending in as well as I hoped I was...</div>
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I studied Brassaï's work at university in my favourite module with my favourite teacher which really helped me enjoy my afternoon there since I am a bit of a photography novice. This is not a review, although it is brilliant and I recommend it heartily! But in bringing back my memories of this class, I remembered the <i>flâneur.</i> </div>
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The image of the stroller, an urban-explorer, obviously appealed to the romantic student in me and has stuck in my head ever since. The <i>flâneur</i> wanders the city and observes its people, its everyday existence but from a distance. He is detached and objective. In my seminar we discussed the lack of the <i>flâneuse, </i>where are the women wandering the streets of Paris? Well, it was a pastime that only rich and educated men could undertake. </div>
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So, welcome to the 21st century. During my stay in Paris, in my wanderings of the city, I will become a <i>flâneuse</i> and enjoy all that this city can offer. <br />
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