Here’s a word I’m not sure if it’s in the French dictionary – my mini French-English dictionary doesn’t have it – since it’s largely a slang: kif-kif. It basically means (all) the same, or alike. Something that is kif-kif really doesn’t have much importance one way or the other. I must admit it’s not an easy “word” to try to convey through photos, but then again, there are not many words in French starting with K in the first place, and they’re also not easy to photograph over 7 days without all looking the same! (See, back to kif-kif) ;)
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10 Mar: In this small tarterie, it seems all tarts are made equal. Pick any two savoury tarts, plus a drink, and they’re yours for less than €8. It also inevitably reminded me of Mouff’Tarte, my favourite tarterie before it suddenly closed down over Christmas break a couple of years back. When I came back to Paris in the new year, another café had taken over the shop space. People may say a tart is a tart is a tart, but I’m saying no, some tarts are more superior than others.
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We are lucky that there are gardens and parks everywhere in Paris. For a major city, it is quite green and often colourful. And to the gardening enthusiasts, even small apartment sizes are no deterrent. They work their magical green fingers to nurture something on their balconies and their rooftops. Annually, there are even special open days where public could meet the gardeners of major parks for chit-chat and tips exchange!
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3 Mar: Sure sign of spring, right? We’re starting to spot birds other than pigeon coming out from hiding, chirping away happily, and some would even try to follow us around with cute little expression which says “feed me”. We could do with more foliage on the trees though, since they’re still looking a little bare. Can’t wait for the warmer and longer days. I need more daylight, please!
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River Seine snakes around Paris and Île de France, and with it, a number of small islands grace the region. We know all about the Île St Louis and Île de la Cité within central Paris, where the city’s history began with the settlement of the Parisii, but other islands are very much “invisible” to many. I should definitely explore more of them!
To the west of Paris, straddled between the communes of Levallois and Neuilly-sur-Seine, lies a small, picturesque island called Île de la Jatte, aka “Island of the Bowl”. We stumbled across it quite by chance, when Chloé and I went to Levallois for lunch at the weekend. I struggled to pinpoint why the name sounded familiar, but Chloé knows it well – it used to be a favourite hangout among Impressionist artists. Seurat’s Un dimanche après-midi à l’île de la Grande Jatte (now housed in Art Institut of Chicago) is indeed a very well-known painting to many!
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It is too quiet at home. F is currently trekking in the Moroccan desert with his friends, boys-only trip. It’s an adventure where they have camels to carry their bags, a guide to lead the way, and a chef to prepare all the meals. Tough life ;) Sadly for me, he took the 100D with him too. Yes, yes, I know, it’s his camera, and it’s to photograph exotic locations including the Sahara – all’s fair in love and, err, photography?
Not one to sit and grumble, I whipped up my good ol’ compact and went out exploring parts of Paris unknown to me. I was pleasantly surprised to discover the blocks of glass buildings around Levallois, reflecting back at one another while taking on the colours of the sky and cloud. It almost felt like I’ve been away in another city myself, until I hit the River Seine and saw other familiar sights.
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Oh yeah, I have about a gazillion (well, it feels like it) unfinished stuff that I would like to wrap up, but there isn’t really a reset button in life where you can press and clear the whole lot in one go to start completely fresh and anew. And perhaps to take on less so each can be completed in good time. How do we, realistically, decide between being ambitious so to do it all and being pragmatic so to be selective?
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24 Feb: The top part of this medieval city gate of Porte St Martin gleams but the remaining looks like it had seen better days. I had initially thought this is the outcome of unfinished restoration/cleaning work, but upon a small research, it seems I am wrong. The two-tone schema is brought about by the difference in materials used, marble vs limestone. The marble certainly keeps its shine better than the limestone that absorbs much of the pollutants in the air.
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Sometimes – actually, most of the time, in my humble opinion – one simply go for a random walk around Paris to be better acquainted with her. After our lunch at Frenchie To Go on Sunday, that was pretty much what Chloé and I did. We just walked, chatted, took some photos, and walked some more, as we made our way from rue du Nil to Belleville. We even snuck by the windy streets near Buttes Chaumont for some pristine views of the city.
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Something must have lined up in the celestial. I am constantly in search for good grub in Paris, but I am by no mean someone from the “in” crowd who score tables at the latest gourmet openings in the city, not to mention our eating out budget doesn’t quite stretch that far to be a fixture in the dining scene. Imagine my surprise at easily snagging a table for two at Frenchie (via La Fourchette), albeit two months in advance, and then successfully wrangling Chloé to lunch at Frenchie To Go in matter of days.
Tucked away in rue du Nil (very near to the Passage du Caire, of course) and adjacent to Gregory Marchand’s other ventures – Frenchie and Frenchie Wine Bar – it wasn’t too crazy busy when we were there on a warm Sunday afternoon, but clearly well-loved, as we just about snagged the last two seats in the cosy café-deli. ***
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I tried to Swype “heureux” on my phone once when I had forgotten to change the language setting accordingly. It came back with the suggestions of “heiress”, “heretic”, “heroes”, which amused me to no end. Happy, also the title of the crazy catchy song that everyone’s dancing to, is an amazingly difficult word for me to pronounce in French, but who cares? Just because I can’t say it like a native, it doesn’t mean I’m not. Happy, that is. Not only that, it makes F laugh, because it’s cute. ;)
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17 Feb: To walk about Paris by night and see the flickering lights reflected in the Seine always lifts me up. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it. There’s of course a big element of admiration on top of the feeling of being privileged to live in such a beautiful city. If you’d told me when I was young that I’d be destined to call Paris home one day, I would have laughed at its absurdity. It seemed rather unattainable back then, with the language and the culture divide. Now, as I set my roots, I hope to conquer them.
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This week’s word is not an entirely foreign word, but when F suggested it to me as the theme to photograph, I knew immediately that this makes a good opportunity for me to explore the galeries et passages of which some are well-known but many stay pretty hidden. These Parisian galeries can be think of as precursors to modern shopping malls.
Created at a time where waste management was a citywide problem yet demands were there for more comfortable (window-)shopping experience, these covered passages offered well-maintained arcades and shelters from the elements. Some of them are still kept in good condition, but sadly a good few more are quite run down. Many had also been demolished – in its heyday, some 150 were present but only about 1/6 of them remains today, and not all are open to public.
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10 Feb: I couldn’t resist posting more than one photo of Galerie Vivienne, the most elegant galerie that I’ve visited in Paris, and certainly the best known among the visitors who search for something off the usual grid. Elaborately decorated entryway, mosaic flooring, stylish lighting, and surely enough, the shops that line this passage are also seriously upscale. A walk deep into the passage reveals private spiral staircase, presumably leading to some residences. I wouldn’t mind having such a prestigious address here ;)
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F and I marked our anniversary with a small splurge – dinner at La Table d’Aki. Promptly at 8pm, the window cover was raised, and we stepped into a dining room about the size of the living room in our cosy Parisian apartment. Definitely minimalist in decor, monochromic palate of white (except the draft-blocking curtain and the low wall, both in red, by the door), as we were seated, I whispered to F: “16 covers only!”
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