Water in..

So. The toilets are now on yellowish tanked rain water. And you're supposed to tell if you're dehydrated by checking the colour of your urine. How am I supposed to tell ? Counting the number of glasses per day is so old school.

Macadamia Nuts

The thumbprints on my fingers feel raw.

I visited a Macadamia farm over the weekend, and having enjoyed the pumpkin and macadamia nut scones fresh from the oven with a bit of cream and jam, proceeded to scour the ground underneath the trees in the grove for some fruit. Apparently they're not ripe until they drop off the tree, and you need 12 weeks to dry them in the shell before you can crack the nut from within.

But to dry the shell, I had to remove it from the casing. First attempt was with a knife to top & tail it, and then peel the green skin off. Have you tried skinning a golfball? Yeah, it was just as successful as that.

A nut cracker (or lobster shell cracker...?) came to the rescue, but the trick was to crack the edge of the skin, and not the central bit that instinctively you go for ~ after all, these are the hardest nutshells in the world.

Plan B's Wagyu Beef Burger

Get one hunk of expensive wagyu beef. Mince it. Turn it into a burger. Yum.

Plan B is the side project for Julian North of Becasse & (Sous Chef) Banc fame.

Lack of time, so a short post

Gak! Now being a car-commuter instead of a public transport commuter, I am finding that I'm having much less spare time than I used to, and the backlog of things to read is getting longer.
So little time!

Loving: A proper winter, snuggling up in front of the heater. Sleeping in (but I've always loved that). Rise Omakase menu. The freshness of the sushi at Makato. Coffee. Need more.

Inspired by: Lamb & Tomato Soup from The Gardners Inn Blackheath; Sticky Toffee Pudding (Steph Alexander Version), hastily converted from metric weights to -erh- I think 170g sugar is a three quarters cup?

Me = Commuter Squared

Took delivery of a new car at the end of last month. All of 13km on the clock, just enough to have assembled it it, driven it onto the ship, and driven it off the ship.

Instead of being a public transport person - I am now an evil commuter. One of those single people, in a single car, travelling to work. At the moment I am doing the reverse commute, travelling from the inner suburbs of sydney to the western suburbs. And generally, I like driving. But I don't like driving during the peak hour rush when everyone is aggro and less forgiving.

My compensation for doing this daily commute has been to start up a bokashi box, a sort of indoor pre-compost fermentation system that originated in Japan. I have tried and failed with the worm farm (killing the poor babies twice, so-much-so that the last lot of worms upped and packed themselves to the compost bin next door). Lets see how this one goes.

Degustation at Post, GPO Martin Place

The parentals went to Tetsuya's yesterday with some friends to celebrate a significant birthday.

Jealous as.

By happenstance though, as I was clearing out my boxes from my perpetual-move; I found a menu that I had squirrelled away from two years ago. During good food month 2005, I had a choice between visiting Carribean experimental in Pyrmont; or French degustation. I, predictably, chose the French, although now I wish I had been a little daring.

Anyway, I can't remember much about the actual meal. I think I managed to resist taking photos of every dish. But here is the menu & my scribblings for posterity:

It's Time!

So finally - it was time for me to ride the dirtworks 50km race.

Months of non-preparation, and on-again-off-again riding had brought me to this moment.

The killer hill at the beginning - around 12km was just as bad as it was last year. I had to pause and roll around on the ground for a bit to stretch my lower back out. It was just *so* tiring from pushing the bike up the hill at a 65 degree angle. Urk. I started off the ride with sneakers on, to reduce the number of transitions by one, and also so I didn't have to hike up the hill in bike shoes. I'm really not sure how much time I saved!

For the 50km, they had graded the fast downhill track from rocky, sandy and technical to smooth with a combo of water bars & sand traps to slow you down. I was trying so hard to slow down on this downhill bit that I could smell burning rubber - probably my rim brakes. Top speed for me: 41.5km*, and I was a slowpoke!

The water station at the 28km mark (where the 100kmers split off from the 50kmers) was very good with watermelon, orange slices, 'gu' water. Very good, especially since so many people ran out of water last year. I probably stayed a little too long at this rest point.

Apparently a 100kmer broke their collarbone just past the water station. The hike-a-bike bit got removed, but there was a plank/bridge ride over a creek that a few people got wet in when they tried to change direction when already on the bridge.

Timing chips/legstraps got provided too. Ah - technology!

My time was worse than last year (1min), but my placing was one better.

*Courtesy of my handy GPS unit. If I'm speeding downhill, all hands on brakes, even though I'm the kind of person to scream "go-faster", do you *really* think I'd take my eyes off the trail to see the kind of speed I'm clocking up. Nuh-uh.

On the road again

I have been packing my stuff (again!) in preparation for a move. This isn't a moving-house type move (which in a way I am still in the midst of - beware the way of the procrastinator), but a move of office.

When I last moved office, about this time last year, I had three boxes of stuff, and was accused of moving too much stuff. So this time I am restricting myself to the same three boxes. Of course in a year I have accumulated lots more 'stuff' - thus it is time to cull.

Someone else in another organisation I have dealings with is also under this blight of time-to-move-office.

They hired movers. The movers picked up the boxes, but decided to have a long lunch along the way.
They had a few lunchtime beverages. They indulged in some illegal substances. They decided to scatter the contents boxes to the four winds, and feeling the pressure from the extra liquid consumed at lunchtime, relieved themselves on the paperwork.

So *that* is why we're moving our office stuff ourselves.

Oaks

Way-hey, I can ride a bike again. Sort of. My training for the Dirtworks 50km so far has involved on again off again rides mainly in the royal national park, and a whole lot of sleeping.

But not last weekend! I was determined. I emailed the gang, nominated the 9.20 train from glenbrook and what time it was due to arrive at woodford. I was determined to ride no matter what.

As I was driving up to Glenbrook (borderline late for the train), I remembered that the last ride I had done in RNP, B1 had had two flats, borrowed my spare tube, and left me with the super-busted-cannot-be-repaired one. *grrr*.

I lurked around glenbrook for a while, hoping for the old-bike-shop-now-outdoor-stuff shop to open. The clock ticked ominously. Decided to run the risk & ride without a spare and went off to meet Robin & Darren at the station. Turns out the train was already crowded (with bikes), and there were at least thirty more wanting to join the train. Uh oh. Donated our tickets to some likely riders, and ended up driving to the start of the trail.

We had two spare tubes between three bikes. I had had another sort of brain malfunction, and forgotten my bike shoes as well. Duh, doofus! Luckily, Robin had just changed his flat pedals to eggbeaters (ooh, hardcore!), so I could use those instead of sneakers of spd pedals.

And it was fun! I rode most of the downhill sections, except for the really really big one. I even made it up the enormous hill at the end. I'm not sure what the gradient was, but *wow* I'm so impressed. I've never made it past the first switchback before. It got to the point, as I was riding up, that I couldn't even look at the road ahead; all I could focus on was bit of bitumen just in front of my front wheel.

Total kudos to Darren - this was only the second time off road; he rode most of the downhill sections, but on a rigid frame, no suspension bike that was a little small for him.

Milkshakes were well deserved.

Haigh's Chocolate Indulgence

Morning coffee break with coffee buddy, in a week that I had decided to come off the coffee again "for as long as it took", so that it would become effective again*.

The Grace hotel had teamed with Haigh's Chocolates to present a chocaholics dream of brownies, biscuits and hot chocolate. So being a fan of the Lindt dark hot chocolate, we went to sample the fare at theGrace.

Choice: 'Normal' hot chocolate, Hot Chocolate Haigh's style, White hot chocolate.

Hot Chocolate Haigh's style came with two marshmallows and a small chocolate and macademia nut biscuit. There was no choice of dark or milk chocolate. Shaved chocolate on top, which melted in the time it took me to take a photo.

The hot chocolate was very sweet, and I think I prefer the Lindt version with the dark chocolate. The 10% discount voucher was put to immediate use - a packet of dark peppermint chocolate frogs, dark choc coated almonds, and milk choc coated macadamias. The nuts are having ashorter lifespan than the frogs, just so moreish.

* That said, when I walked into the coffeeshop this morning; The guy knew me immediately as 'flat white, no sugar", so I haven't been offthe stuff for long enough.

Ooh, I can do Arty Farty Again

Coffee Buddy alerted me to the fact that the art gallery is open on Wednesday evenings for the 'art after hours' event during the month of April. He went on 28 March to hear a comedian talk about the Archibald. So this Wednesday I went. Not to hear Margaret Throsby interview two finalists, but just for a chance to visit the art gallery not-on-a-weekend. Hmm. Those are usually called weekdays, yes? It's a bit too 'familiarity breeds contempt', because the last time I went to the art gallery was during primary school; and despite 'meaning' to see The Archibald Prize, or see artexpress every year, I never quite get off my backside to go.

There was a huge crowd there for the Margaret Throsby talk. Funny how I never really did art in Aus beforenow, and yet I went & visited quite a few art galleries whilst in Europe. I sidestepped the seating, and went 'round the back to artexpress.

I liked the 'minature thoughts' on postage stamps one (For where your Treasure is...., by Aimee Shao-Yi Yeo). Brown ink on a cream cardboard, grouped into three sets with different background colours. Did she handwrite each miniscule thought? Or was it printed in sepia ink, and shrunk down?

I also liked the wirework tableau (A Political Circus, by Madeleine Plocki), of Downer and Iemma playing Texas Hold 'Em Poker; Howard as a circus ringleader with Costello peeking hopefully through a curtain.

There were quite a few entries from International Grammar School. Why does that sitck in my mind? Because it is local, and I can relate to it, despite not having gone to school there.

Then it was downstairs, and into the Archibald, Sulman and Wynne prizes. Um, yeah. I can see why the painting of Take Two: Jack Thompson by Danelle Bergstrom won the packing room prize, I thought that was pretty cool. I guess I liked the stories behind the pictures more, because nothing here kind of grabbed me and made me go "oh, wow".

So what I liked (art critic that I'm not):
- The Hon. Bob Carr (Jasper Knight), because Knight was a finalist in artexpress a few years ago, Carr bought his artwork, and that they meet up every year to "catchup".
-Fink on the Phone (Paul Ryan), because it took Ryan two intense periods, and at least $800 worth of paint to get it to a stage he liked. Very textured.
-Tim (Esther Elridge). She tacked on an extra bit of canvas at the bottom of her portrait to emphasis Tim Rogers' lanky figure, and then 'spent a lot of time up a ladder'!

Ooh, Arty Farty Me

Saw Keating! earlier in March, and it was a hoot. I think it started at a Melbourne Comedy festival a few years ago (google says 2005), sold out, and came to Sydney fo two weeks at the opera house. Of course, it sold out again for that season. Hadn't heard anything about it until January this year when I think I saw a poster in passing. Grabbed the tickets when the box office opened, so finally after a year and a half of waiting, I got to go.

Fortified after work with a large mocha and a small bar of chocolate. The band was playing something upbeat to get the audience in the mood. Almost a full house and ~uh~ the clientele was a little bit older than I expected. I really only remember Keating as PM prior to Howard, but I was surprised that the majority of the audience that night were ofgrey-haired granny ilk.

And it was a lot of fun! It took me a while to get into it, and I'm not sure if it was because I didn't remember much of the references to the early part of his tenure, or if it was because I wasn't in the mood. Anyway, from about the Hewson 'fightback!' rap I was cheeringalong and grooving with everyone else.

Random Stuff

Coffee
How can I tell Uni has started again?

I can't get my coffee instantly, when I want it from the cheap place up the road, because all the uni students have discovered it.

General Posting
Finding it very hard to keep this thing updated. I can't email posts from work because of the stupid disclaimer messages that get tacked onto the end of emails. I am spendng disgusting amounts of time on flickr at work at the moment, probably more as a distraction from horrible work happenings. I think I will curl up into a little ball and die when the helpless desk work out that flickr isn't work related, and block it from the list of allowable sites.

MTB
For some reason life keeps interfering with the things I want to do. Like mountainbike ride - I signed up for the
dirtworks 50km bike race. I thoroughly enjoyed this one last year, and am keen on doing it again. Except that last time I went riding - RNP no less, a trail that I usually consider "easy", I found it far from easy. It was tough! Downhills that I had blithely zoomed down at speed in the
past (& yelled out 'go faster!' to my compatriots) I baulked at. *sigh*. I am getting *sensible*, how can that be?

And then this weekend - I had organised a trip to ride the Oaks Fire trail. Unlike RNP, where I can bail after 10km, this one forces you to ride 25km or so. Even if it is mostly downhill, it's going bush, right? Of course shittyrail organised some last minute trackwork, which wasn't advertised on their website, that I only noticed when driving up the day before I had planned to go riding. So friends couldn't join me, and it would involve a bit of extra logistical to-ing and fro-ing to do the trail. L, bless his cotton socks, was all worried about me going riding on my own along 25km of no-reception, and lent me his EPIRB. I didn't go in the end, and wentclimbing instead. I'm sure that was part of his cunning evil plan.

Adventurous Paddle

So! Yesterday I competed in the inaugural Adventure Paddle; down on the Georges River in the 'shire.

I actually wasn't much looking forward to the event beforehand. I had done all of one "training" session, a 3 hour stint on middle harbour. I haven't done anything really tp get fit apart from on & off turn ups at the Sydney Summer Series (which I then mainly walked). And lots and lots of PS2 guitar hero. I signed up mainly to do something with Sarah, which I know that she would be interested in, and I thoughy that some of my mad adventure racing pals would have signed up too. "No, I can't be bothered."

Bah, bollocks to them.

So having slept like a log for 6hours, the alarm went off at 5am. Dozy brekky of museli & fruitibix, then an iced coffee up & go in the car. Disadvantage of travelling across town on the motorways is that there is no convenient cafe with nice coffees en-route, or even a dodgy fast food place with caffienated sort-of-beverages when you're desperate. We ended up pulling into a servo & getting a milky hot water thing with a splash of brown stuff from a vending machine, and a can of Vfrom me.

The Georges River National Park was filled with seriously buff looking people in sponsered swift looking kayaks, matching uniforms for the pairs. Maybe about 100 people all up? A bit of fluffing about, since I hadn't done one of these things in over a year, what with contacting the map, the checkpoint list, working out our route & times with thetides.

0800 -bang, and we're off! Run to launch the kayak into the water, and paddle around the corner, to pick up the 'checkpoint value' list. Of course we just follow the crowd, and head up the bush track to checkpoint 19. When we come down, it was like 'oh, that checkpoint value thing'. We picked it up anyway, ignored it and kept going. The next closest checkpoint already had a flotilla of 10 or so kayak parters waiting in the kayaks whilst the faster runners headed up thecliffline & got their stamp off the leg of a transmission tower. We opted to head upstream & keep going.

So. All in all, we had a pretty fun time. We got all the checkpoints that we wanted to, and one extra, number '9', which supposedly was accessible only around high tide, but we managed to get it about 90mins after the high tide mark, and it was still really easy to get there. We dodged some idiot waterskiiers, and jetskis; had to cross the main channel of the Georges river a couple of times. The bit closest to Mickey's point & Alfords Point bridge was the hairiest - we pretty much just looked both ways, and then paddled like crazy to getacross the channel before being run over.

5 hours, 260points, 16km of paddling. Pretty good effort!

The best bit was stopping at a picnic area on the northern side of the river, eating a snack, and then having tiny transparent prawns swim over and around our dangling feet as they spawned downstream.

I am so sore today though! We stretched out afterwards, mainly upper body and arm stretches, and ate a 'healing' sausage sandwich. Pretty much the top 3/4 of my back is just sore (not helped by the fact that I also went climbing thursday night), and so are the bony bits of mysitting down muscles!

All Shopped out

I can't believe it. I'm all shopped out.

Had the car for a few more days, thought I might as well go shopping somewhere not easily public transportable. Wandered around DFO at homebush with little enthusiasm. It's not that big, and the stock really isn't that good. The range of CR skirts available in sizes 6 & 8 was about 5, all ugly. Could I really have over-shopped myself whilst travelling overseas, and my lightning cheer-myself-up-shoppingtrip to Melbourne when I returned?

Then I went IK-eaing, and there was a lot more enthusiasm for that. How on earth can I get excited by browsing at Ikea? The majority of hostel/backpacker places that I stayed at during my big europe trip were decorated top-to-toe in ikea, which I couldn't understand. The funkiest place had a blue plastic watering can turned into a lightshade. Very stylish! I think it's more the convenience of aone-stop-shop, because really, it ain't that cheap!

On the hunt for under-the-bed storage type ideas, despite me not liking plastic crates, I came *this close* to buying a set of Children's style crates. The adult versions were terribly ho-hum.
Funnily enough, although I really hated to white/beige options in offer in the home-storage section, and got excited by all the pretty colours you could get the children's shelving/crate/storage boxes in, it was the white ones that I had picked out!

How not to travel in Melbourne in Style

I started from Sydney's eastern suburbs, and hopped on a bus thinking that it would take me to the airport. The 400 goes to the airport -the 410 should as well, shouldn't it?

I ended up in Rockdale, on the *other* side of the airport. It was peak hour. My 10min float time of check-in time was rapidly disappearing. I stood on the Princes Highway, a main arterial route from the southern suburbs into the city/airport and could *not* see a single taxi. I guess because it is a main arterial route, the taxisdon't see much point in travelling it looking for fares.

After 5 traffic light cycles (and 15 minutes of panic), I finally got one. The fare cost me $20. At least my ticket was still valid, andthey hadn't sold it to a standby passenger. Phew!

10 ways to piss off your cousin

1. Decide at the last minute that you want to visit Hong Kong, but you are too cheap to pay for your accomodation.
2. Decide that you want to stay with your relatives.
3. This results in cousin being kicked out of his own room, and being relegated to the storage room to sleep in instead.
4. Be unable to speak coherently in Cantonese, at least not enough to hold a decent conversation with cousin. So not only have you kicked him out of his room, you don't even speak to him.
5. Monopolise the family dog.
6. Make an incredible amount of noise on your first night, so that he can't get to sleep before heading to work the next day.
7. Have his parents send him out to buy computer related things for you.
8. Complain that his computer is riddled with viruses, and that the Internet connection is too slow, despite being on broadbad.
9. Despite the computer being riddled with viruses already, somehow break it even more. The damn thing has a Trojan horse and has corrupted IE so that the net won't load because it gets blocked by antivirus software.
10. Break the back up computer.

Speaking Spanish badly helped my Chinese

I wouldn't have thought so, but travelling around Europe, and only knowing a few choices words of the country that I was (and usually getting confused with the one that I had just been in), has helped myChinese.

The following conversation took place yesterday. I was looking for some huge mosaic statues nearby.

Me: Uncle - what are those things called in a bathroom that are on the floor?
Uncle: Tiles.
Me: Ah okay. Tiles. Do you know a place where they got the -uhm- those things on the ground, and then they hit it so it broke into little bits, but has lots of colours?

Update 25/12/06: Went through the convo with my mum, in Chinese. Perhaps I wasn't as successful in communicating as I thought I was; she had *no* idea what I was talking about!

Paris - my food side

Paris, eh? I went a little overboard in 'a few of my favourite things'.

I tried my first raw mussel. My first raw scallop.

Surprisingly, the mussel tasted like a raw oyster.

Midway during my visit to the Lourve, I needed to take a break from so much religious art & culture, that we went to Angelina's, a patissierie on Rue de Rivoli. Angelinas is famed for their hot chocolates and for their 'Mont Blanc' cake, a 7cm high creation of meringue, whipped cream and 'chestnut cream. The recipe, the menuboasts, has remained a secret for over 100 years.

I broke my gelato rule of ordering one thing creamy & one thing not. We ordered two hot chocolates - one white, one milk; one Mont Blanc - because I can never resist when something is a house specialty, and a strawberry tart which looked yummy when we were standing in the queueby the door.

The hot chocolates came in two milk jugs, with a side of whiped cream. White chocolate whipped cream for the hot milk chocolate; and milk chocolate whipped cream for the hot white chocolate. The hot chocolates were incredibly rich - they tasted like they were made of half chocolate, half cream; a bit more diluted than how I would make a chocolate ganache. All I could taste in the white hot chocolate was sugar; and all I could taste in the milk hot chocolate was the cream.
This leaves the Lindt and Max Bremnar hot chocolates dead in terms of over-the-top richness.

Funnily enough, the strawberry tarte and the Mont Blanc reminded me a lot of cakes you can get in Chinese bakeries in Sydney. I'm sure I've tasted chestnut cream elsewhere. The strawberry tart had the clear glaze, and the shortcrust-y type pastry plus the custard. Very muchlike the 'fruit flan' type tarts you can buy too.

The only thing that got finished was the strawberry tart. Only a few spoonfuls of the Mont Blanc had been touched - just to try the different elements. I don't think that it was really my kind of thing.

I cannot believe that I got defeated by some hot chocolate.

So a few days later, whilst wandering around the St Paul/Marais area, when I eyespyed a 'Cocoa et Chocolate' shop, I decided to check if I really had had too much hot chocolate. I got a cup of spicy hot chocolate (with chilli, pepper, cardamon & something mysterious). Igot about 2/3 through when I had had *gasp* too-much-hot-chocolate.

I don't think that I had 'too much' bread. I didn't really reach the 'Oh my, I'm going to throw up' stage at any point. Bread is the carbohydrate staple of France, much like cous cous in Morocco, or potatoes in Ireland. I think though I tried to combine being healthy & the quest for the perfect baguette in one, and it didn't really work. Brown bread or multigrain flavour doesn't have a high turnover, so I was never going to get the just-baked crispy outside & the soft
inside. Unless I got up terribly early, and even then, my chances were slim.

I folded on my second last night as I revisited a bakery in St Paul. "Un baguette, s'il vous plait". 80 euro cents. I got it. It was warm to the touch. Somehow on my metro ride between St Paul and Montemarte,half the baguette went missing. It was delicious.

I haven't eaten mussels for about 5 years. Even since I went to the Belgium Beer Cafe in Cremorne with someone, and we ordered two pots of mussels. After that, I felt as though I would throw up if I even hadjust a taste of one. I think that I had reached mussel overload.

I thought that after this period of time, the gag reflex should have worn off by now. The steak of the guy next to me looked pretty woeful. So I got a pot of mussels, and managed to eat 3/4 of the plate. I stopped just short of repeating the effect from last time though. I think I'm not quite game enough to order another pot for awhile.

One person. 4 kinds of cheese. That's not too much for one week is it?

I went for the stock standard President brand camerbert from the supermarket (shhh!). If the guy next to you rolls up, checks them for ripeness and then walks off with 8 rounds of the stuff, there has to be a reason behind it, right? I also bought some chevre at the same supermarket to regain some of my street cred for wimping out on buyinga washed rind.

I chickened out several times at a fromagerie. The first time, I was hungry and tired from too much walking. If I had started sampling cheeses then, before you knew it, I would have eaten my weight in cheese and still not know what I had wanted to buy. The second time I just sort of squawked and ran away. Finally I couraged up and pointed out some likely contenders that I liked the look of, and they wereyummy!

A sheep's milk brie type thingy which was oozy round the outside near the rind, and almost curd like in the centre. A goat's milk other thingy which was very goaty & sort of stuck on the back of the tongue.Yum!

Paris - visiting the usual suspects

Luckily, whilst I had thought that we would be spending every day inParis in a mad rush, we haven't, so we have had time to savoureverything that we have done here.

Visited the Eiffel Tower just before sunset on Tuesday. The queue forthe lift was enormous, about a 90min wait, whilst the queue for taking the stairs up was nonexistant. So we took the stairs up to the firstplatform, did a quick walk through, and then went up hem two at a timeto reach the second level in time for sunset. I don't think I managedto grab any piccies of the tower itself before the tower was lit an eerie orange colour. The sunset was beautiful, although as the sunwent, a haze descended, and it was harder to see all the buildings indetail. If you want to make it to the top level (although the view from the second level is better), it is actually cheaper to take the stairs to the second level, and then get an additional lift pass from there upwards.

Received my first taste of waiter rudeness at a seafood restaurant inMontemarte. We saw another table ask about the composition of a dish, in English, and he didn't bother answering, just pulled out the English menu (they had only one), and chucked it at them. I'm sure that that there was heaps of stuff that was available that wasn'twritten down. The French table next to us each got a serve of fish, I think with just butter and lemon juice. The woman on the other sideordered a dozen oysters - and I swear they weren't on the menu either!

Wednesday was reserved for shopping. First up I visited a mainly freshfood market under a railway underpass at Barbes Rochechourt. At one end, we stopped to take a picture of the length of the markets, all the way up to the metro station. Some stallholders thought it would behighly amusing then to come up and demand that we take a picture ofthem, and then as we started walking back down along the market, started chanting out 'tourist! tourist!' along the way. Like that is in anyway going to endear you to people. I bought some pears, some ashis and some mandarins. Perhaps the reason for the currenttiredness was the lack of fruit.

Walked the Champs Elysees from the Concorde end up to the Arc deTriomphe. The original plan, when we flew in on the Sunday, was to head straight there & get a good view of the city, since entry is freeon the Sunday of the month. Of course, it had been really cold (and foggy) when we landed, so we had decided then not to go. The Avenue is really wide, and it would be really impressive, if it wasn't filledwith 8 smelly lanes of traffic. I think we chose the wrong side to walk up, we saw the cheap ready-to-wear shops, not the pricey hautecoutour names. Took piccies of the Arc. Saw that there was a modern day version, all reflective glass further down Avenue Charles DeGaulle. I think it was at La Defense, the CBD district of Paris.

Caught the metro down to the Petit Palais & visited the cafe. Entry to the Palais is free, but for headcount reasons, we still had to collect a ticket.

Then it was time for more shopping! We headed to the St Paul/Marais district for some homewares shopping. Despite not actually living in this country, or even on the same continent, we go homewares shopping. Found some reproductions of the old style biscuit tins, so we bought a few.

Visited the Lourve! We knew that we couldn't appreciate all of theLourve in one hit, so we tried to plan. A few days before going, we got the completely *useless* map, which didn't tell you much. In the end, having paid for our entry, we went to the souvenir bookshop,hunted through until we found a guidebook with 'The Lourve tour for those in a hurry', and copied their suggested route down. Afterstarting on the 2nd floor, we ended up backtracking and getting the audio guide.

Midway during our visit, decided that we needed a refreshing break. So we headed out to Angelina's, a patissierie shop on Rue de Rivoli. Just outside, I switched from thongs to ballet flats, just to look presentable enough to enter. You could tell where the locals were -all in the smoking section. The non-smoking section had all the tourists.

The order was for two hot chocolates (one white, one milk), a montblanc (they are famed for the last two), and a strawberry tart.

Having read the easyjet magazine on the flight over, we headed to DesCrepes et des Calles in the 13th arrondisement. After leaving themetro, we found a nicer set of markets than the ones in BarbesRochouart. There were less people, it was less pushy, it was a whole lot calmer. It was very nice!

The crepes were really nice too - we got dessert ones for starters, because dessert is the most important meal of the day. Lemon and honey, and banana and butter. Yummo! I was then game enough to try a gallete, a buckwheat crepe with filling. I triedegg & cheese. It filled in the bits between the crepe & didn't taste like Soba at all.

Walked up the hill to the Sacre Coeur, an enjoyed the view of Paris.This hill behind Montemarte (or perhaps it is what defines Montemarte)is the highest point within Paris. Unfortunately, couldn't see theeiffel tower from the hill,as it was just around the corner to theright.

Saturday - I went shopping again! I visited the horror that is the LesHalles area (bleurgh); found a fantastic second hand shop on RueEtienne Marcel. They had an enormous range of boots, but everytime I found one that I liked (cherry or mahogony red), it had been separatedfrom its brother.

Sunday - last full day in Paris. I went to the Flea Market at Porte deClingancourt. It was crap! Once you left the train station, and youwalked along the side where the markets where, you had a whole lot oftouts offering you handfuls of fake belts, bags, wallets. And what is more, they didn't get the message when you ignored one of them, orsidestepped them, they just kept coming up at you. Ugh. And then themarkets themselves were crap! The antique section I had a quick browse through, but I obviously couldn't buy anything or ship it back home.

So instead, I went to the Musee d'Orsay, which had been installed in an old train station. After queuing up for 40minutes on the reduced-rate Sunday, I finally got inside. I spent a lot of time inthere, a lot more than in the Lourve, it must've been because it wasmy last museum hurrah before leaving Europe.

The highlight for me in the Musee d'Orsay was definitely the Art Nouveau section. There was a lot of stuff by Hector Guinard here, the guy who designed the curly iconic patris metro signs and railings. I spent ages in here taking piccies of Guinard's stuff, as well as the other French Nouveau artists and architects of the time.

Finally, way after sunset, I wandered around the outside of George Pompidou Centre, but was a bit museumed out from the Musee d'Orsay to go in.