Shouting for Huey down the big white porcelain telephone

I am so sorry, dear reader, for my neglect. I know you have been waiting with bated breath (listerine will fix that) for a blog update. It is not that I don't love you, it's just in the absence of a laptop or camera (my Dad's broke, technology officially hates me) there has been little to blog about.

Until the other night....

I'm in Birmingham at Little Sister and Her Boyfriend's house. We decided to go out for dinner. I put on a beautiful dress with a leopard on it that I bought the day after I had a dream in which Little Sister turned into leopard and I had to feed her a mixture that was one third tinned tuna, one third cat food and one third cornflakes. The dress no longer fits. I cursed myself for eating too much over the holiday and vowed to steer clear of all rich foods.

Then I went out and had tomato and mozzarella salad.

Followed by lamb shank with potato rosti and roast vegetables.

With crème caramel for dessert.

And a selection of Italian cheeses to finish the meal off

A few hours later I was reviewing the menu with My New Best Friend:

I have spent the last couple of days on the sofa, avoiding food, and in close proximity to My New Best Friend, just in case. Little Sister was kind enough, and worried enough, to take the day off work to get medicine and watch Disney movies with me. Her Boyfriend has been equally good to me. It almost makes being sick worth it.

Also, I may be able to fit into my dress again.

My Mah-Jong Face

Tonight, after a triring day of swanning (get it? haaaaaa) around a chateux I learnt the basics of Mah-Jong.



It's really just rummy played with tiles, or, as the 1922 instruction leaflet says;

Always remember that your object should be not only to eat yourself, but to prevent any other player eating.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm off to the beach. Very exciting - this is what the beach in France is like:



FACT

Mentioning the War

Normandy and England are tightly bound by their shared history, modern and ancient.

Yesterday I went to see the Bayeux tapestry, the 1000 year old depiction of the events leading up to the Battle of Hastings, and the Battle itself. The tapestry is about 70 meters long and very colourful. The battle scene is quite graphic, with the Normans trampling on beheaded Saxon bodies.

On a walk around Bayeux cathedral, where the tapestry originally hung, I came across another memorial to fallen English soldiers of a much more recent time. Memories of the D-Day landings are still very present in Normandy. The landscape is dotted with cemeteries of soldiers, the number of grave stones is astonishing. That so many young men from so many countries lost their lives in such a short space of time is staggering. The debt Europe still owes them is humbling.

On Thursday I saw a British veteran sitting on a Bench by Gold Beach, looking over the sea where the British troops landed, overcame the Germans and then dragged in a working port that had been constructed in England. Today children play on the merry-go-round and build sandcastles on the beach where the remnants of the port remain. Tourists eat ice cream while walking up the picturesque streets.

At first it seemed incongruous that such activity should happen at the spot where so many lost their lives. But then that's what they fought for, that people could live normal lives, free from the terror of Nazism.

Hopefully the cemeteries will remain so lovingly cared for for a long time.

Glourious Basterd

The last troops arrived on Monday and we've been frantic with activity since. What with lazing on the grass, sipping wine, playing table football and table tennis in the play barn, taking strolls in the countryside and dips in the pool, eating delicious food and drinking cider, there has hardly been a minute to just relax.

We have managed to make it as far as the nearby town, Falaise, birthplace of William the Bastard (AKA the Conqueror, but the first one is much more fun to say, especially in front of polite company). He became King of England after shooting King Harold in the eye at the Battle of Hastings. Here he is all conqueringy:

There has been a lot to adjust to in Normandy; the slow pace of life, the presence of nature. One of the biggest shocks for me, coming from a country with a very low birthrate, has been the presence of the ickle bickle kiddy winkles. They are very cute but also incredibly breakable. They seem to have some sort of inbuilt navigation device that leads them straight to the nearest sharp rock, scolding hot drink, or height they can fall from. Their appetite for jewelry and expensive electronics is also alarming.

Tyson must have seen something hard to smack his gorgeous noggin off.

In contrast, it's strange how OLD the rest of us have gotten. All my generation are married or settled down, and some are even creating the strange little beings described above.

This is how we used to look:

This is how we look now:

In reality though, it seems deep inside we are all just teens still; giggling over card games, hiding our bad language from the parents (by that I mean words such as 'dang', and 'drat'), or just swirling around in a floaty skirt because it makes you feel like a princess.

Normandy Landings

The person with the shortest journey is always the last one to arrive. I ran into Charles De Gaulle airport to find my sisters, their partners, and their children had already arrived. I hugged my sister Briony and panicked, "Is she pregnant? Does she just need to do some sit-ups? What if I ask and she's not? DILEMMA!" Discretion is the better part of valour, so I kept quiet. Happily, it turns out she is expecting her second child in January (Thank goodness I didn't buy her that bottle of wine for her birthday).

Cars were rented and we set off for the holiday house to meet the rest of the tribe. I have lots of sun-soaked memories of family holidays with my cousins in France from my childhood, but now the family has expanded to include, husbands, boyfriends and children. The distance people travel to get there has also changed, as seen by my Uncle's plan of attack.

The final troops will arrive tomorrow. Today is just for sitting in the garden and recovering from jet lag. And, of course, eating.

Newly Vague

Before I came to Paris I watched some Nouvelle Vague films. It made me think that in Paris everyone sits around smoking, drinking coffee and philosophosising existentially, three things that I'm not a natural at. I think I pulled it off rather well, though.

Having lived out my black and white Parisian fantasy, I think it's time to leave. Frankly, it's quite a dangerous place for me to be. I keep getting distracted by beautiful things and walking straight into traffic, much to the annoyance of my companion.

When it Sizzles

Sorry for my silence, I know you've been on the edge of your seats for my next thrilling installment. I'm afraid I've been stuck inside more than I wanted because of an essay that refuses to write itself. Also, Emily (AKA Vacation Ruiner - seriously no breakfast in bed and no foot massages, she's a terrible hostess) had to go to the library and take her camera with her. So I've been forced to Franglais my way around with a disposable camera (yes, they do still exist - remember winding on?) and so a lot of the photos aren't available until I get them developed (soretro). Here are some of things I've done with Vacation Ruiner.

Walking along the Seine....

Where my face belongs on a bridge....

The return of the heart....

Playing with shadows, oooh, spooky....

The Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower DISGUISED AS A TREE, but you can't fool me

Picnic

Giggling at the picnic (Dang, I look good in Sepia)

More Giggles

A Tale of Two Cities

Paris and Seoul are different, in some ways polar opposites. In certain aspects Paris seems superior to Seoul. As mentioned below, it's not ugly. Also, I can venture out into public with my shoulders exposed. If I do this in Seoul I almost always get mistaken for a Russian prostitute, which really upsets me (not to mention how angry it makes Sasha, my pimp). There is more romantic freedom here, couples of all ages show affection in public.

In other ways, Seoul has Paris beat. The throngs of tourists here could get tiring, especially when they are in groups yelling at everyone from the top of an open bus (I, dear reader, am not a tourist but an intrepid travel writer with a unique, insightful and valid perspective, much like Elizabeth Gilbert). Also, shops and restaurants close here. I mean they actually shut down. And you can't buy things. And cafes only serve food at certain times. It's all very confusing. As is the subway map.

But I've loved walking around the city, along the Seine, through the Louvre, along the St Martin Canal (where Amelie skimmed stones). I've also enjoyed, sitting in the apartment studying with Emily. The holiday so far is lovely.....

Paris is a city of giants, as evidenced by the size of the doors.

The local flower shop

"Bangul bangul"

I love this photo. Can you guess why? Hint: it's not because of the hat hair.

Emily is not taking her PhD seriously enough

You can have any colour, as long is it's cream

Supper

Fromage to you......

My wandering open mouth was eventually stuffed with cheese.

La Joie Débridée de son Arrivée à Paris

Arrived in Paris yesterday after what was a lovely flight with Qatar Airways. Asian airlines have always been so much better than American and European ones in my experience, the service just seems so much better. It also helped that I took a Korean sedative travel sickness potion just before the flight and then had a glass of wine. Ten hours went by in the blink of an eye.

I managed to wake myself up for the in-flight meals, which I always really exciting, I love how they separate everything into little boxes, it reminds me of sitting in the volvo eating a picnic from a plastic tray as a kid, with torrential rain ruining any view of the lake district (it can have rained every time, can it?). While struggling to open the packet of kim chi (which I was determined to do, as it would be the last time I ate the vinegary spicy giver-of-life fermented cabbage for five weeks) I noticed the Korean girl beside me doing the same. It turns out she was coming to Paris to, for a job interview. She was very interesting and we spent the whole time in Doha chatting about culture stress and what it's like living in a foreign place. We're hopefully going to meet up again in Seoul, if not Paris.

The first thing that has struck me on arrival is how beautiful everything is. There are beautiful houses with GARDENS and the buildings are old and beautiful. The window displays are beautiful. The supermarket shelves are beautiful. Emily's apartment is beautiful. It's as if a sense of beauty is brought to every aspect of life. I walked around with my mouth open pointing at things and saying "That's beautiful!"