Paris, je t’aime

Even without a surprise proposal atop La Tour Eiffel on my last visit, the City of Light could be no less romantic.  From grand boulevards to narrow, cobblestone streets lined with cafes, restaurants, and mansions of old reincarnated into shops and inner city apartments, there is no where else like it.

This time we took up residence in Saint Germain and made our way on foot, visiting new places and revisiting a few of our favourites.

The vast Musee d’Orsay needs more than one afternoon to fully explore its treasures, not least because the galleries begin closing a half hour before COB, unbeknownst to us.  But we did manage to take stock of the extensive Impressionist collection.

On a similar scale is Père Lachaise Cemetery where it’s easy to lose your way amidst the thousands of monuments to people passed.  I couldn’t help but wonder what Oscar Wilde would make of the lipstick kisses covering his grave, but Edith Piaff’s humble plot evoked more sombre thoughts on her life and work.

An hour train ride took us to the gilt Palace of Versailles, truly magnificent and itself a lavish monument to an era that is better left in the past.  But we joined the crushing crowds to file through The Hall of Mirrors fitted with seventeen mirrors to match seventeen windows overlooking the gardens, and the various chambers and living quarters in all their golden brocaded opulence.

But it’s the everyday-ness that I enjoy the most, pausing on the bridges that span the Seine, the flower shops and cheese sellers in Marais, blossom-covered streets in Spring, Parisienne ladies with their well behaved pooches, sun-drenched city parks, hand-painted menu boards, scents both good and bad, tartine breakfast with a bowl of cafe o’lait.

Yes, I do love Paris.

Portobello Road and Greenwich Mean Time

As luck would have it, our return to London coincided with market day on Portobello Road.  Staying with James and Billie nearby, we took to the streets on foot, joining the swelling crowds passing through Golborne Road and on to Portobello.

The previous day we had walked the foot tunnel to Greenwich, again paying a visit to the markets there, finding a rare Homemaker tea stand which we gave as a thank you gift to our friends (not to be confused with the Australian Homemaker brand).

And of course, no trip to Greenwich would be complete without walking up to the Royal Observatory and standing astride the line at longitude 0° which marks the East and West divide (we also managed to snatch a few glimpses of the new Les Misérables filmed on location at the Naval College), all topped off with a traditional English pie with mash and peas.

Literary England

I think when visiting England its hard not to embark on a bit of a literary tour, so many of the classics were penned here.

Being the 200th birthday of Dickens this year, we made a beeline for the Dickens Museum on Doughty Street, London where the author lived for two years, writing Oliver Twist during this time.

Not far from Nottingham was Newstead Abbey, the ancestral home of Lord Byron, where we walked the vast parkland and gardens, everywhere blooming with daffodils and alive with spring.

I recently saw the latest film adaption of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, and was inspired to visit the film locations around Derbyshire and the Peak District.  Late snows had fallen in the previous week and remaining drifts were still visible along drystone walls and the sky was suitably grey.  Coming from Australia, where European history is just two centuries old, it’s difficult to comprehend just how old places like Haddon Hall really are, its dark, wood-paneled rooms, rich tapestries and worn stonework dating from medieval times.

Also featuring in Jane Eyre was the windswept moorland around Stanage Edge.  We took a four hour circuit from Heathersage, through farmland separated by stiles and kissing gates and up the rocky escarpment to the plateau above where the temperature dropped dramatically, bringing sleet and hail and wild winds which blew minor waterfalls in the opposite direction.  The view here was spectacular and utterly breathtaking.  If not for the weather I would have stayed there, taking in the clear air and the English wilderness.

The return to Heathersage took us via a small church and the grave of Little John, comrade of Robin Hood, legendary if not literary.

The Grand Tour

It was a last minute decision to fly to Europe, but an opportunity arose and we took it.  Beyond catching up with family in the UK, our itinerary for Europe is still very sketchy so this will be quite an adventure.

Our first port of call was London with two whole days to fill.  We based ourselves in a studio, just a stones throw from romantic St Pancras Station and the London Underground.  For me the Underground, with all those unusual English place names like Elephant and Castle, and the more familiar Paddington and Baker Street, has a childhood nostalgia from British stories I grew up with, not to mention endless games of monopoly.

First stop was London Bridge to visit the Tate Modern, but by happy accident a road detour took us to Borough Markets and we were immediately flanked on all sides by people milling through food stalls piled high with cheese and bread and all manner of local produce.  Being lunch time, we joined a queue for toasted cheese sandwiches.  Unless you’ve tasted one for youself, you won’t believe this was the best toasted cheese sandwich I’ve every had!  Two slices of sourdough, overflowing with grated cheddar and a sprinkling of spring onion, toasted golden brown and piping hot – delicious!

So too, the Tate was a feast for the eyes: Dzanza, Picabia, Chapman Bros, Ernst, Gorky Raushenberg, Hockney, Klee…  I could go on.

Sunday was market day, walking from Spittlefields, through Brick Lane and up to Colombia Street Flower Markets and back again.  The colour and the smells and the crowds all added to the atmosphere and I was quite pleased the vintage scarf and Welsh wool/bamboo yarn I found that day.  (Incidently, James was wearing the jumper I knitted for him.  If it weren’t for that, I might have been jealous of the ladies at the wool stall who were seriously checking out my handiwork!)

And then it was off to Nottingham.

In the month of March we were wed

James and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary in a little weatherboard cottage on Lake Macquarie.

The days were perfectly overcast and mild, and from the French windows that opened onto the water we observed the subtle changes of the lake.  Sailboats bobbing in the drift.  A slender heron pick its way through the shallows.  Cockatoos that soared and screeched overhead in great arcs.  Fish leaping three, four times through the air and landing with a satisfying plunk in the evening stillness as we sipped our wine by candlelight.

Manly Markets

On the third Saturday of the month, Manly Village Public School holds a market day.  I think it’s one of the nicest markets in Sydney because it’s not too big and has a wonderful array of goods at old-fashioned prices, with lots of colour and soul.  There is so much to see I can spend a whole morning browsing through preloved clothes, crafts, plants and quirky bric-a-brac.

I did a round of the stalls, soaking up the sunshine and atmosphere, and came home with a skirt, a pot of lemongrass, and a whole heap of pictures.

Two Hands

I took Rosemary and Yumi to Collins beach some weeks ago.  I probably talked it up, but it’s remarkable this secluded beach is just minutes from the bustle of Manly’s Corso.  When we arrived though, I was shocked by the amount of rubbish that had been washed up in the high tide.  Plastic bags, wrappers and bottles were strewn across the beach, looking more like a tip than one of Sydney’s fine harbour beaches.

It’s easy to lay blame on tourists or the local council but the sad reality is rubbish, particularly plastic waste that finds its way into the ocean, is not only an eyesore but a threat to marine life as they become entangled or ingest it, causing injury or death. So it really becomes everyone’s responsibility.

There are numerous grassroots campaigns that are making positive change in this area because they are accessible and localise action.  In the case of the Two Hands Project, all you need is “30 minutes, Two hands, Anywhere, Anytime” to make change, while Take 3’s message is “take three pieces of rubbish with you when you leave the beach, waterway or… anywhere and you have made a difference”.

It’s also inspiring to see how people are turning rubbish into art.  I took the following picture at Confest a few years ago.  I’m afraid I don’t have a name to credit, but this artist collected hundreds of discarded cigarette lighters, washed up along waterways, to create striking mandalas.

The Spit Bridge to Manly Walk

It’s the natural environment that I appreciate most about living in Manly.  The busy beach front and ferries are synonymous, but that’s not all it has to offer and it’s quite easy to avoid the crowds if you choose.

On Sunday I joined friends for the The Spit Bridge to Manly walk.  Around nine kilometres long, it offers off-road tracks, remote beaches, sweeping harbour views and an array of wildlife, right in the middle of Sydney.  I also discovered significant aboriginal rock carvings of animals and daily life which I hadn’t seen before.

Taking time for photographs, lunch and a swim, we finished the walk in a leisurely four hours.