Day 52 – Not like Leonard Cohen

You know it’s time to leave Paris when:

  1. by default you have dessert after every meal including breakfast
  2. you no longer take photos of pastry shops
  3. you begin to like – no, need – the smell of cigarette smoke
  4. you’ve replaced water with wine (and not in the Jesus/miracle sense)
  5. you expect all meat to be raw, even when it shouldn’t
  6. you think waking up at 9am is shockingly early
  7. a dinner booking at 8pm seems scandalously early
  8. you’ve given up removing dust from your clothes
  9. you arrogantly believe everyone should get out of your way; and the main reason,
  10. Your body starts knocking on your insides yelling “OK girl, you’ve had your fun, you’ve lived it up in Paris and I havent made too much of a fuss but enough is enough, get this body back into some kind of normal existence!!!”

I guess 52 days of excesses is, well, excessive.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depend upon how you look at it), there are another four full days of excesses to be had.

Today I grunted at waking up at 10am, had breakfast and stayed in bed until close to midday. By 1pm I was sitting in Autor d’un Verre (a no frills natural wine bar serving simple yet quality meals) with a bottle of red, cod ceviche, and organic chicken casserole with mash. Demis had what looked to be a giant ball of mozzarella cheese (which he adored but regretted the side effects) and duck (which wasn’t as good as my superb chicken).

Cod ceviche

Organic chicken

Big ball of mozarella

Duck breast

It was a comforting place with an old woman cooking in the kitchen and her son serving. It all took a while but hey, we had nowhere to be at at 15 Euro for two courses – who’s complaining?

Front counter/kitchen of Autor d'un Verre

(Sigh) I really wish Sydney had places like these – basic restaurants/bars/cafes selling incredible food at cheap prices (cheaper than any disgusting food court) with unusual yet exquisite wines (sold at retail). Problem is, that anytime Sydney does open up a place like this it becomes the hype, is impossible to get into and then develops attitude.

After lunch I left Demis and walked over to the giant gourmet food store Le Grande Epicery to stock up on French goodies I plan to take home with me. Of course being alone meant I also took the opportunity to pop into Zara and pick up a bright green skirt (60’s retro colours…a must for summer 2011) and a couple of other essential pieces.

I literally dumped my things at home and then out we went for gyros. That wasn’t originally the plan, we had planned to go to another wine bar for a plate of chacuterie (deli meats and cheese) and of course more wine, but (and this is testament to my current state) I just couldn’t stomach any more good food for today.

The gyros was probably a mistake though. It was cheap and tasty but not worth the effort considering half of it ended up on my face.

Lamb pita

We had an hour or so to kill before the jazz performance we had tickets to kicked off, so we decided to lounge about in the Luxumbourg Gardens, where I wrote half this blog entry on my iPhone. Gotta love sunshine at 9pm.

Blog entry in action

Lazing at Luxembourg

Tonight’s jazz performance was Robin McKelle – an American. OK so here’s the deal. She was described as smooth, sexy and sultry – a female version of Leonard Cohen. When I had looked her up on YouTube the first clip that came up was perhaps not quite Leonard Cohen but definitely a little edgy and very sultry.

The performance was nothing like that. It was more like Bette Midler meets Dolly Parton but take it down a couple of notches and maybe place it in Lonestar, a theme park or the local RSL. It’s not that she or her band were bad, they were good musicians, but it was repetitive, a little old fashioned and very insincere. You know it’s not going to go well when the singer acts like a Diva and gives sound instructions at the start of the performance, dances like a stripper when she’s old and frumpy…and it didn’t get any better when at the end she forced everyone to stand up and clap (there is NOTHING I hate more than being forced to clap in a song, unless of course it’s standing and clapping and possibly waving my arms in the air).

In short, Leonard Cohen would NOT be happy at the comparison and I felt it was very inaccurately advertised. What happened to the Robin McKelle of YouTube?

On the way home we decided to stop for Nutella crepes and for the second time today my face was covered in food. I know the crepe man thought he was being nice by pouring half a jar of nutella onto my crepe but not only do I NOT need the calories, I took one bite and a volcano amount of chocolate goo literally exploded from the crepe. No photos for obvious reasons…

Tomorrow we have our Degustation Jazz & Chocolate event (I don’t have high hopes but I’m curious) and then our long awaited dinner at Spring.

Hang in there stomach…

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