It’s just past seven in the evening in sunny Malmö, Sweden. I’m sitting on my Uncle and Aunt’s balcony, nursing a can of Brygg (Swedish beer) as the sun slowly dips over the Öresund sound.
It’s very peaceful here. Peaceful and restorative, which is wonderful in consideration of my recently-acquired head cold. I spent the majority of a sunny Tuesday in bed, cursing the result of five wet days in the Parisian rain. As our Air bnb host (Luc Perrin) sympathised, “…vous êtes très malchanceux!” (‘you are very unlucky!’). But regardless, we enjoyed every minute.
Now, I should probably write a forewarning on this post: it’s very picture heavy. Aaron and I were kind of (or a lot) overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the city itself, never mind the abundance of food.
I’m not going to attempt to produce any sort of ‘city guide’ in this post as we were only in Paris for five poorly-researched rainy days (Aaron actually called me a ‘bad foodie’ as I had no idea where to eat; uh, guilty as charged). However, if you’d like some more extensive (and well-researched) notes on food stalls, attractions and restaurants, I’d encourage you to head over to Erika’s blog The Pancake Princess for her Europe travel update or Erin’s blog The Law Student’s Wife for a beautiful recap of her and Ben’s recent trip to Paris and other regions of France. Both blogs are guaranteed to pull you into the rich and delicious tapestry of French cuisine and culture.
So, without further ado: here’s our Paris scrapbook. I hope that you enjoy the visual journey.
All of the berries.
I was squealing over these plump little beauties like a child in a candy store. They put Australian berries to shame with their smooth, glossy skins and juicy, sweet flesh. I bought every type I could see and devoured them exuberantly, with keen fingers, stained teeth and juice running down my chin.
Oh, the markets. Near our accommodation in Montmartre, each and every street was blessed with small shops selling everything from fromage (cheese) to fruits de mer (seafood). I wanted to buy everything from every boulangerie (bakery) and all of the beurre (butter) I could see.
I would fly to France just for the butter.
This shop deserves its own category. Established in 1730 by King Louis XV’s pastry chef Nicolas Stohrer, the oldest pastry shop in Paris continues to produce wonderfully intricate delights for the general public 7 days per week. Stohrer – Patissier Traiteur – 51 Rue Montorgueil 75002, Paris.
Usually from about 17:00 to 21:00 (5pm to 9pm) in almost every Parisian bar and bistro. Cheap pints and cocktails. Do eeeeet.
Aaron and I are suckers for all sorts of meaningful graffiti and well-placed street embellishments. There are many wonderful pieces to see all over Paris. These are just a few of our snaps.
People in places.
And lots of pigeons.
Even on magnets, apparently. I ate half a baguette almost every morning, slathered with French butter and confiture (jam). After two days I started copying the local Parisians by dipping my folded baguette into hot coffee. So delicious.
Oh, and buttery, flaky croissants. Yes.
The greenest jardins (gardens).
Most of these photographs were taken at Le Jardin des Plantes. They’ve hardly been edited; the stunning shades of green seemed other-worldly for this Australian who struggles to keep pot plants alive.
Almost every building, bridge and road you see in Paris contains ridiculous beauty and cultural significance. We have about three hundred photographs in tribute to this. Here’s 1%.