Have I ever told you just how varied Parisian street art can be? From simple spray can graffiti variety to stencils to truly thought-provoking pieces, they never cease to amaze me. And there are a lot more street arts that I haven’t yet spotted so far.

I term this Alice-in-Wonderland-esque as “Blown away” and if anything, it reminds me much of Ireland, where windy days are not rare and nobody even bat an eyelid at “inside out” mushroom umbrella. Some day, on Grafton St, there is even a street artist/mimer there who stands at his spot with tie blowing away from him face and him struggling with his weather-sensitive umbrella. I may have his photo somewhere – if I find it, I’ll update this post accordingly.

I like looking out my windows.

Sure, on account of work and socials and random walkabouts, I am not here too much but when I am, I often take a little time to stand by the windows and watch the world passing by. Regardless of time, each time that I look out, there’s always someone jogging, walking their dogs, strolling in leisure, etc. At times, matches of ball games are played out, to the cheerings of supporters and passerby alike.

This evening, around sunset, whichever way the light fell, it gave a golden glow to the top of trees just outside. The tall branch of the pink blossoms served to add another layer of colour to the scene. It was so beautiful and tranquil. Take it from me – this photo hardly does it any justice.

Back when I was a child, we don’t have fancy toys like kids today do. Instead, we entertained ourselves with figurines in plastic (green little soldier set, anyone?), wooden building blocks, climbing into all sorts of nooks and corners (we had to, in order to not be caught during hide and seek), and much to my neighbour’s dismay, her pots of flowers and shrubs would ended up as ingredients for masak-masak.

Each time I pass by Jouets Bass that sits between rue de l’Abbé-de-l’Épée and rue St Jacques, I get a little nostalgic. There are so many colourful traditional toys on display, making it oh so tempting to walk in, buy a few items and try to recapture the simple childhood that I had. Those were happy days.

Dancing stopped just a few minutes ago. The evening session of ceili had been fantastic and the final group dance had been the most entertaining among them all. Bride and groom and all guests alike, we stomped and twirled and laughed together to the rhythm of the band.

Outside, the weather had cooled down considerably. At the patio, the fairylights shining like a million sparkling stars, which I could not take my eyes off from them. Shivering, I whipped the camera out, hoping to quickly catch one or two decent shots, and I am more than pleased that this one came out quite as magical as I remember the day to be.

Congratulations C+R!

It my friends’ big day and I’ve made my way to Bruton earlier than I had planned (not without its own drama though). And you know what people say about silver lining – mine was to catch up with the soon-to-be Mrs E before everyone else arrived. She looked wonderful and as a radiant as a bride could be.

When I left her to get ready for the day, I explored the ground of the venue, which comes with a strong green ethos and supports for local food supply and economy. At the back of the centre was a small yet beautiful organic vegetable garden, as well as a goat, a pony and a couple of pigs. The pony was such a sweet-tempered little fella it let me came up close and personal to take this shot. Of course, he was also trying to come close enough to chew my scarf…

I flew in to Bristol this evening after work, and accounting for a small delay flying in from Paris, it was dark when I finally checked in to the YHA. Nothing luxurious required, since I just need a place to lay my weary body for a sleep before heading to Bruton, Somerset in the morning.

Of course, I took the chance to do a small walkaround as well. Where I am is quite central, close to all amenities, teeming with positive vibe, and picturesque too. This bridge is officially christened Pero’s Bridge, and it is located just off the YHA, linking two squares across Bristol Harbour. However, given the presence of a pair of horn-like sculptures, it is also nicknamed the Horned Bridge.

Start of week 4 since the big move, and I still haven’t posted any photo of famous Parisian landmark, so this evening, after work, I took some time to traverse west of the city in order to grab a photo of the infamous La Tour Eiffel by night. It was a rather impromptu decision, so I don’t have my mini tripod with me to help steady the shot. This turned out reasonably well but the sparkly version, not so great.

I took the bus to cross the city and it makes sense – no métro changes plus I get to see the view above ground. The 7th arrondissement used to be sort of my “home” ground in Paris, and as we passed some of the more familiar streets, I started to feel all very nostalgic of the neighbourhood. I should try to come back more often, and find time to get to Champs-Elysées somehow. I may have been travelling in and out of the city (and now all moved here) but it has been a very long time since I was at the stylish thoroughfare. 2-3 years perhaps?

While a large number of building in Paris are typically Haussmannian in style, there are of course parts of the city that still boasts architecture from other era, from Romanesque (e.g. Église Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre) to Gothic (e.g. Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris), to super modern (e.g. La Défense) and we certainly should not miss the period where Nouveau Art was all the rage.

Art Deco was the call of the day and on Boulevard de Sébastopol, today, it is Monoprix (a supermarket chain) that occupies the building above. Each window sill facing the junction between Boulevard de Sébastopol and rue Réaumur are sporting these stylish urn. It really was not a bad thing when the movement stormed across Paris in rejection of the uniform Haussmannian look.

Another day, another part of Paris to show off. I was running a personal errand around rue Réaumur in the second arrondissement today and upon exiting a shop, I had this pause moment. Hang on, is that the right time?

It appears this beautiful clock – with a Middle Eastern vibe from where I stand – is still running on the winter time. Who is the caretaker or who has the key to manage the dial? It ought to be corrected, or it’s going to get quite confusing for random folks passing by, like me.

I do not belong in the world of glittering richesse such as that inhabited by the regular clienteles of Galeries Lafayette. I feel gauche (despite being on Rive Droite for a change) and it was all I can do not to wince each time I see the price tag of the lovely things they sell in this grand magasin. Clad in nondescript pair of jeans and ballerina flats without fancy designers labels on anything that I own (ok, one exception, my bag, which I technically – ahem, assumed possession – from my aunt), all it took was one look to determine that I am the interloper within the elegant establishment (the bag is hopelessly out of season).

Just look at the glass dome adorned by metal frames here – isn’t it fabulous? Inspired by the styles of Byzantine and Art Nouveau, many have come near and afar to admire this lavish dome – it is quite a landmark in its own right. Up at the terrace of the building, one may also have a cup of coffee/tea/hot chocolate while taking in the view of Paris. Decadent? Bien sûr! It’s their middle name afterall. ;)