Jour Deux

BRIXTON: Day two started with a walk through the beautiful mansions of the historic Marais, then across the Seine, as it separates the Île de la Cité and the Île St-Louis from the Left and Right Banks, and down Notre Dame with another overpriced flat white to kickstart the day.

Then we walked through the enormous Notre Dame contending with the legions of tourists desperate to take grinning happy snaps in its sombre surrounds. Afterwards it was off to Saint Chapelle for a guided tour of this stained glass masterpiece. Unfortunately the tour was hosted by an atrocious performance poet on speed so when she moved to take the group upstairs we lingered by the gift shop for another ten minutes.

Upstairs, however, the stained glass windows, at least fifteen minutes high, were absolutely stunning, bathing the room in a cornucopia of light. After spending five or so minutes gazing up at the stained glass from the seats lining both sides of the chapel, we walked over to the Pompidou for some modern art.

Five stories high the Pompidou is perfectly positioned to take advantage of the stunning Paris skyline. From the sandcastle stylings of the Sacre Couer, to the Eiffel Tower, the gothic splendour of Notre Dame, the modern skyscrapers and the romantic rooftops that seem to roll on forever, it really is the most impressive skyline I've ever seen.

Inside the art gallery has some excellent works by Kandinsky, Picabia, Duchamp and Braque but unfortunately the fourth floor, which houses the gallery's contemporary art, was closed. However to compensate there was an exhibition of graphic journalism on the bottom floor that included, not only an exhibit on one of my favourite writers Joe Sacco, the work of a host of graphic journalists I haven't yet read but now intend to do so.

Then it was back on the Metro and over to the Left Bank for another wander through the various streets. We were originally going to find a cinema to catch one of the numerous repertory seasons perpetually screening in Paris. Unfortunately there wasn't much on. There was a Fellini festival but speaking neither Italian nor French made this kind of pointless.

But it was on this ultimately pointless search for a cinema that our Paris trip took it's most exciting turn. Before describing our adventures though I'd like to point out that I'm a massive fan of Ernest Hemingway. His novel The Sun Also Rises is one of my all time favourites. A fact attested to by my Blogger profile. But despite going to visit San Sebastian and Pamplona on my trip to Spain last September (both locations central to the novel), I had completely forgotten I liked the novel. To say nothing of that fact that much of the action takes place in Paris. So while I watched The New World on Thursday night I tried to scribble down a few locations. But that beer coaster had long since been misplaced.

So there we were. Standing on a street corner, having just partaken in the fruits of a local patisserie, looking for Atlantis. As tempers frayed I made one last plea to Kate that we scale the small hill in front of us. And what I wise move that decision proved to be.

No more than a hundred metres from where we'd spent ten minutes lingering, pondering our evening, was the Rue de Moufettard. A spectacular street steeped in the history of the Lost Generation overflowing with gorgeous restaurants, cheese shops, fruit markets, fish mongers, book stores and literary cache. It was as though we had come home. After enjoying the delicacies of wine merchant and a chocolaterie we found the only cheap boozer in France and settled in to watch England lose to Ireland in the Six Nations. Then it was off to a bistro to stuff ourselves with three courses of finest French cooking.


After a couple of apres-dinner drinks and some more Lost Generation atmospherics it was time to pour ourselves into the Metro and head home.