The drive to Barcelona was quite straightforward although we’d had to get up really early which meant that no one in the car was in a good mood. As we drew closer to the city I started to feel quite apprehensive.  A few days before, Chris had backed the car into a pole in an underground car park and this had left a mark on the bumper bar. The bumper  was already well marked from previous driver incidents and these were well documented – so I was wondering if we might get away with it if we said nothing and avoid the 1,300 euro excess. But Chris felt it was important to be honest.  We found the Avis office with no problem and handed it in to a very nice lady there. She barely glanced at the car and handed us a ticket to say all was good. I could see Chris was struggling with his conscience – we had gotten away with it without saying anything, but Chris was feeling bad. After a brief pause Chris confessed. To our delight the lady looked at the bumper, declared “it is nothing!”, praised Chris for his honesty and let us off the hook! Hurray! 

We had a few hours to kill until we could access our apartment, so the first order of the day was lunch. We found a little Catalan restaurant off the beaten track and sat down at a table with tomatoes and garlic in a basket on the table. Once our flatbread arrived Nick started to cut up some tomatoes to put on the bread, but the waiter showed us how the Catalans do it – rubbing cut garlic over the bread and then cutting the tomatoes in half and “mooshing” it all over it. Delicious! We were hooked and ordered more! The meals we ordered were very authentic and while Chris and I ate ours happily (I had grilled aubergine, peppers and onions and Chris had lamb ribs) Nick and Michael didn’t get a meal they were expecting (Nick’s pasta was quite dry and full of large oyster mushrooms and Michael’s hamburger was huge, rare in the middle and lacking the bread buns). Consequently, despite much pleading and prodding, they left a large portion of their meals on the plate. I could tell from a glance from the waiter that this was not on, which brought to mind one of the first things I noticed about Barcelona when we had arrived. The streets have large communal rubbish bins and as we searched for our apartments initially, we noticed people fosicking through them. It was clear to me, that in a city where some people are clearly struggling, leaving a lot of food on your plate was not appropriate. 

But as we explored some more after lunch, we could see that Barcelona is a vibrant, cosmopolitan, bustling city, full of public art, beautiful and varied architecture, a bustling port, tourists everywhere (20 million a year!) and friendly, confident people. It lacks the grandeur of Paris but has so much in common with Melbourne. We could hardly wait to explore it. 
The next few days were quite sensational. Every day the temperature would start out pleasantly cool (cardigan weather) but by lunchtime it would be warm (around 20 degrees) and then cool again around 6pm. We never saw a cloud in the sky and apparently it only rains here around 15 days of the year. 

Everyday was busy from early in the morning until late at night. It didn’t take long to adapt to the Spanish time clock and we thought nothing of eating our dinner around 9.30pm like the locals. 
Chris and I were truly in our happy place walking and walking and walking all day, exploring the old city “El Gotic” and “El Ravel” full of old laneways with bars and beautiful shops and markets and climbing the hill next to the old city to explore the Old Catalan fort at the top from which the king bombed the inhabitants of Barcelona in the 1800s when they objected to some new taxes he wanted to impose. (There is so much interesting Spanish history and I know nothing about it – I must read some books about it!). 

The kids loved shopping but we were aware that exploring the old city was not their cup of tea. One day we hired electric scooters and sailed along the beachfront, doing our best to avoid thick throngs of tourists strolling along the promenade along with dogs, cyclists, prams, people on Segways, bicycle tuk tuks….it is a bloody miracle people don’t get run over. 

Or perhaps they do – on two occasions we witnessed bad traffic accidents at intersections. One incident was between a motorcyclist and a taxi right outside Sagrada Familia – Chris raced over to help and was imploring the crowd not to move the motorcyclist and to call an ambulance,  but in their desire to help, people were taking off his helmet, and turning him over. Chris wasn’t able to help and so we moved on. 

Another day we hired electric bikes and cycled up to Park Guell for a picnic. It was such a beautiful day and Barcelona is full of bike tracks but trying to negotiate through thick crowds and stopping at every traffic light meant it took around 2 1/2 hours to get there. We loved exploring Park Guell ( although we hadn’t organised tickets for Gaudi’s section and so we missed out on this part). The ride home was during siesta and was much, much easier. We still needed a good stiff drink afterwards however. 

One night Chris and I left the kids at the apartment with pizza for dinner and went to a lovely restaurant on Montjuic overlooking Barcelona where we had a beautiful French meal (salmon tartar, foie gras, confit of duck!). Afterwards we had a drink at a very glamorous spot friends had told me about called El Nacionel. 

The week disappeared too quickly. Each day we grew to love Barcelona more and more. The people are so different to the French – they dress so casually in contrast to the French’s way of dressing up and we felt very at home in our casual clothes and comfortable sports shoes. They are loud and so for once I wasn’t imploring the kids to be quiet! The drivers are aggressive in contrast with the patience and politeness of the French – on one occasion in San Sebastián we watched a car harassing a cyclist down a narrow road until the cyclist parked themselves in the middle of the road, holding up all the traffic, to yell at the driver of the car. We’d still be there I think, but luckily the police arrived quickly and sorted it out! There is chaos on the streets but no one really cares – people walk all over the bike lanes and no one says anything, bikes are all over the footpath but no one says anything. I quite like that. People seem to live and let live here. 

We ate out a lot in Barcelona and quickly learnt that when dining outside, not to sit in the front row of the pavement – those in the front row are constantly being asked for money from buskers, street vendors and beggars. The food was mostly ok but not stunning – as in France the restaurants sold a lot of the same sorts of food as each other. There are a handful of Japanese and Italian restaurants but the rest are Spanish. There was a lot of paella and sangria and Chris and I were often hunting for more “authentic” food. 
With all that eating and drinking I have put on weight. Some days Chris and I would walk close too 20kms and while that no doubt helped, the eating and drinking have taken their toll. It is probably a very good thing that the holiday has ended and that we are on our way back to reality, our normal way of eating and thankfully for me, lots and lots of work (we spent far too much as well). We’ve had an amazing time. God we love Europe!! Exploring is one of my favourite things to do. The family time has been wonderful. It has been so much fun. But the kids can’t wait to see their friends, and I must confess I am very much looking forward to a big cuddle with Pepper. 

We debated about whether to stay one more night in San Sebastián but at the end of the day the car had to be in Barcelona on the 8th before 1.00pm and Chris was not keen to make the trip in one day. We packed up the car and made our way across the countryside towards Barcelona. 
When you imagine the Spanish county side what do you imagine? Are you like me and imagine a dry rocky landscape intersperced with some half dead foliage? Well, that’s what I imagined – but the Northern part of Spain in spring is completely different – as lush and green as New Zealand, with the snow capped Pyrenees in the background and a mineral green river running through it. It was so lovely and then occasionally we would come around a corner and see a beautiful old castle or a medieval hill top village. Stunning! 
Chris kept stopping the car so that we could take pictures and so when he wanted to stop for lunch at what looked like a Spanish version of a truck stop, the kids and I protested. It was around 2.30 in the afternoon and the car park was packed with cars and trucks but Chris was insistent he needed a break (fair enough I guess as he did all the driving). Inside it was packed with truckers and workmen in small groups and local families. We were guided to a table that had just been vacated and presented with a menu offering a three course lunch with wine for 12 euros. As usual however, we could not read it. Chris has an amazing app however that allowed us to scan the menu and it gave us the English translation – hurray – and soon we were eating white beans and chorizo stew (gorgeous), pasta for a Nick and chicken and chips for Michael. It was amazing – really excellent food, and it costs us 6 euros each including the wine. 

Soon we were back on the road and headed for our destination – a kind of farm house B&B in the middle of nowhere. As we got closer the scenery changed – enormous red rocks emerging from the landscape (kind of like Uluru!). 

We had arrived at our  farm house, greeted the English speaking host and admired the relaxing and authentic decor. 

It was 5pm and we had little time to explore the area. However our host impressed upon us the need to see the local castle at Loarre which was one of the best preserved examples in the whole of Europe. How could we resist? Nick was having no part of it (he is “castled out” from our last trip) but we forced a complaining Michael into the car and drove 15 minutes to the east through villages that look so much like the medieval villages in the south of France on the other side of the Pyrenees, and up the hill to a magnificent castle! It was indeed extremely well preserved and the view from this fortress across the plains below was stunning. 

Apparently this Spanish king was guarding against the invading Moors and there is an excellent Holy Grail story linked to this region (which I will have to research to find out about), but by the 1600s there was no more need for castle living and the royal famaily has recamped to the plains below. Isn’t it completely stunning? 

By the time we returned home it was nearly dinner time.  We had elected to stay at the house for dinner with the host’s wife cooking. Good decision!!! The best meal we have had in Europe. Home made bread that was the best I have ever eaten (sort of a light but grainy baguette), wild boar pate, a charcuterie board with ham that melted in our mouths, salad, fish soup, veal steaks….We had ordered chicken cooked in dried fruit for Michael but he refused to touch it – nicest chicken I have ever tasted. We will be back to this awesome place and next time we’ll stay longer. (Does anyone reading this blog get the impression that I am obsessed with food?!? )

Driving to San Sebastián was surprisingly easy –  40 minutes down the motorway we were there.  Entering San Sebastián was like time travelling or teleporting – you get into a car in one world and 40 minutes later you are in another world with a completely different language and culture.  In San Sebastián they are Basque which is a language that looks a bit like Russian or Greek with lots of X’s and Z’s. We did a crash course in Spanish in the car on the way down (we didn’t want to mess up our Fledging French by learning Spanish too early), but by the time we arrived we only had “Ola” and “Gracias”.
San Sebastián was gorgeous.  I was pretty much in love immediately. Beautiful old buildings, large pedestrian walkways, gardens everywhere, a sensational beach, bars every two metres – what was there not to love! The day we arrived there was a big bike race coming through town and so parking the car was our immediate problem. We arrived in a car park, got all the bags out but felt suspicious that there was no obvious way to pay. A brief chat to the car park attendent in French proved what we had suspected – we were in a private car park. So back to the car, back into the traffic and down into another parking building (this time a public one) and then lugging our bags across the park to our apartment building in the old part of the city. Chris needed to call the agent to let us in so we decided to kill time with some Sangria and tapas in the sunshine. Soon we were let in and how gorgeous (!) – a big three bedroom apartment, modern, very clean, and with a stunning view of the water and the old library. After a pokey little hotel room we spread out and were in heaven.  (Chris had booked this room and his price point is higher than mine, so he finds us really lovely places to stay). 

But we couldn’t wait to get out and explore the old city. A grid of old laneways with interesting shops and a bar every two metres and beautiful churches at the end of streets greeted us. 

We chose a tavern that had bar full of amazing looking tapas but had no idea what to do. Luckily for us, a barman there spoke some English and explained that you just grab a plate, grabs some tapas that appeal to you, show it to the barman and he charges you accordingly.  At 2 euros a tapas it was a delight and for once we could be sure that Michael would eat something! I chose a croquette, some bread with smoked salmon and fish dip, another piece of baguette with caramelised onion and brie cheese. Chris chose a baguette with a quails egg and chorizo. We washed it down with some vino tinto (red wine) and were feeling pretty good about San Sebastián. 

However our language skills were dire. We both felt completely paralysed not being able to communicate with anyone. Luckily many restaurants had menus in Basque, Spanish, French and English and so we could work our way through. One place we went for dinner only had a menu in Basque and even Google Translate couldn’t help us. Rather than play Russian Roulette with dinner we chose to leave. Over the next few days we picked up some more words but still felt like idiots. 
Exploring San Sebastián was such a delight. The old walls on the city border the wharf and the beach. 

We wandered around and took lots of photos. One evening Chris and I sat outside a bar next to our apartment on a lounge chair in the warm (but not hot sun) drinking aperitifs as we watched the dogs play on the beach and boats sail around the bay. It was all pretty amazing. I have to say San Sebastián is one of my favourite places. 

After a lovely sleep-in, we took a taxi to the Avis car rental depot (a shipping container near the train station), hired our car and flew out of Bordeau and headed for Biarritz. Soon after lunch we reached our destination. First impressions were a disappointing – the GPS guided us to a building site next to the motorway. Surely this couldn’t be it? Luckily it wasn’t! We ended up pulling up outside a very bland looking three story building and walked up to the front door to discovered it was closed (it was Sunday). Another resident let us into the building and Chris and I sat down to puzzle out what we were supposed to do! We examined the paper work I had printed out in Melbourne but there was no mention of what to do if the reception was closed. We rang the number provided several times but could not decipher the French message. What to do? What to do? Eventually I consulted the booking.com app on my phone and with great relief discover that the office was closed on a Sunday afternoon but reopened again at 5.00pm. Quelle relief! 
So we strolled through this beautiful town and looked at the amazing beach – sort of Great Ocean Road meets Mooloolaba meets France! The shops were mostly closed, it was cold and raining. We hadn’t had a great start – it all began to impact on our perceptions of Biarritz. We werent sure if we liked it and that was a surprise to us! 
Eventually we made our way back to our apartment and found the reception open (hurray) only to discover that they did not have our booking. There followed a worried phone call in French to some unknown decision maker at the other end, followed by a reassurance that they did have one room left and we could have it even though we didn’t have a booking. Hurray (I think!). However, the room was not what we had been expecting. Being the last room, it was small, it was cramped and the windows looked right into another building. Chris tried to get our rooms changed but it was the last room and so no luck! Feeling somewhat dejected we tried to settle into the rooms. I saw a sheet of paper instructing me to take a count of every single item in the apartment (there were 16 coat hangers, 4 bowls etc) and let them know immediately if any items were missing – I kid you not! It was too depressing – time for dinner! We ended up having a good dinner in a sad looking, saggy, seen much better days, restaurant overlooking the beach. It was merry and after such a fun meal we strolled home to our apartment to discover that I actually needed to make all the beds before we could get into them. A hotel review was beginning to form in my mind “Do you enjoy making up four beds at 10 o’clock at night? Do you like to count all the coat hangers and plates and cups and saucepans in the cupboards when you arrive for your holidays? Well this the apartment for you!” 
We finally piled into bed and settled in for a poor nights sleep on a hard mattress and slept fitfully until awoken by a phone call in the morning. It was reception. They needed to see us immediately. Chris and I pulled on some clothes and stumbled sleepily downstairs to greet the receptionist (yes it was open!) who informed us that the booking.com booking had been cancelled because there was a problem with our credit card. Feeling somewhat dubious we stated that we needed to double that – but on the way back up the stairs we saw our opportunity – no booking meant we could leave right now!!! We flew back up the stairs, threw all our belongings into the suitcases, stripped the beds, washed the glasses we had used, grabbed the rubbish bag under the sink and threw it into Nick’s suitcase (of course you had to take your rubbish with you in this place!) and presented ourselves downstairs to check out! There followed the inevitable disagreement – “our booking was for two nights”, “no it wasn’t – there was no booking”, “yes there was”, blah blah blah. In the end I said, “I know you have rules that no one stays for one night but please make an exception for us because we have had such a poor experience staying here”. That seemed to get through and soon we were paid up, out of the apartment and then 500 meters down the road and comfortably settled into the lovely Hotel Windsor with soft European pillows, friendly staff and a sea view. 
We were feeling much better about Biarritz already. The rain had cleared, the sun was coming out, the wind was still cold, but the beauty of Biarritz was beginning to reveal itself to us. 

There followed a couple of days of long walks along the beach, discovering a Virgin Mary statue out on a point, walks along winding old streets coming across familiar shops like Quicksilver and Ripcurl (Biarritz is a surfing Mecca). 

Of course Biarritz is famous as a hangout for the rich and famous, but we found that a lot of its beauty was fading (not the beach of course but all of the buildings around it have a kind of crumbling air about them). The town is inhabited almost exclusively by old people – apparently the young cannot afford to live there – who dress beautifully and hang out in an old tea shop overlooking the beach. Everyday Biarritz grew on us more and more – our French Positano. 

It was with sadness that we left Paris, but the pack up and the trip to the train station were completely uneventful. Three hours later the train was racing through lush countryside with rain beating at the windows (we had had beautiful weather during our week in Paris) and we had arrived in cold, wet Bordeau. A trip through the city streets revealed Roman ruins and beautiful, well kept streets and buildings. We arrived at Hotel Particular (yes it really was called that) to a very warm welcome and an immediate invitation to participate in a wine tasting in the adjoining wine shop. What a good idea we thought! So after we had settled in the children into our warm, cosy room, Chris and I made our way downstairs to the wine shop and were invited into the downstairs “cave” for a lesson on local wines. It was a great lesson – but it was a lesson! Our lovely hostess, Anna, stood at the front of the room with a map of the region and gave us a very throrough understanding of the different grape varieties in each region, the type of soil they are grown in, how long the wine is barelled for etc etc. It went on for two hours with only two tiny glasses of wine to examine, sniff and occasionally politely sip. Although Chris was highly engaged I was practically holding my eyes open with match sticks! However out hostess was wonderfully passionate and knowledegable and we did come out of the session really well informed. 

By now the children were starving and so we gathered them up and walked into the old town centre in which our hotel was located. It was still raining and very cold, but the stores were open and the streets and shops were so inviting! We found a Lego concept store which Michael examined for around an hour! 

Next door was a Lindt shop and so Nick and I bought a bag of Lindt balls for us all to share. Eventually hunger was getting the better of us and so we sought a lovely place to eat. Pretty soon we happened across a restaurant that turned out to the the culinary highlight of the trip. Tourist free, no English spoken, packed with locals and a three course menu for 16 Euro. I nearly ordered the Cassoulet until I realised it was packed with snails. Most of the menu was a mystery to us but we ended up with foie gras for entree, conft of duck for main and tart tartin for dessert! It was gorgeous and authentic and pretty much what we had been seeking for the whole trip. 

Just as an aside, the French food on this trip has been quite disappointing. We are smart enough not to eat in obvious tourists traps on the main drags and yet we have found the food we have chosen to often be poorly cooked or at least fairly ordinary or no better than food we would order in an average restaurant in Melbourne. On several occasions we would order steak and frites, hoping for a tender, juicy, fatty, salty rare steak – instead, it was more often than not, tough, dry, over cooked and underseasoned.  The French are very proud of their food but on this trip, I would have to say it was largely bleh! The croissants and the baguettes and the cheese are the exception to this of course!
The prices have also been a bit of a surprise.  Last time we were here everything seemed quite cheap. I understsnd now that we spent a lot of our time in the country and the prices are very different to Paris. I have paid up to 6.50 euros for a very ordinary filter coffee – I quickly learned to make good use of the Nespresso machine in our apartment. 

Anyway, I do digress! The meal was fabulous, we all felt wonderfully well fed, we’d had a wonderful night together and the four of us rolled home to our warm, cosy room for a good nights sleep and our first sleep-in since we arrived in France. 

Today was the day the children had been waiting for. All week we had bribed them, and threatened them and dangled this wonderful carrot in front of them. There were several occasions when the behaviour had been borderline and Chris had threatened that there would be no EuroDisney!! But the children had scrapped through and here we were! 
A long train trip to the outer suburbs and we emerged from the subterranean train station into the sunshine and the crowds. A short wait in the queue to get in and we were there. Music from various Disney themed movies played and the beautiful castle beconned us from the distance. How could we resist the joy that is Disney! 

There followed several visits to various,  ubiquitous gift stores for Michael (spot the Darth Vader costume and light saber!) lots of rollercoaster rides for Nick and me and climbing around the Swiss Family Robinson tree house and pirate caves for Chris.  

We managed to persuade Michael, who doesn’t like rides very much, to go on a simulated ride called Ratatouille – sort of a combination between a teacup ride and a 3D screen experience – it was really unique and fun. Nick and I also loved the Nemo ride, “Crush”, not only for its Australian theme but for the sheer fun of it. We explored and played for many hours and eventually by 7.30pm we decided that it was time to trudge home, exhausted but very, very happy. 
 

A day at the champagne house is not every child’s dream as Nick was keen to remind us this morning. He begged and begged to be left in Paris, and when refused, lodged his protest by dressing in shorts, long socks, sliders and the eye mask he had saved from the flight. He looked pretty terrible but his hopes to embarrass us failed because we couldn’t stop laughing. We made our way to Gare de Lyon, picked up our hrie car and then Chris (that brave, brave man) drove us all out of Paris and on towards Reims for our next adventure. 

We arrived around lunchtime, met Cecily and Darren at the Cathedral and began our day with a lovely lunch at the Belgian pub next door. 

From there we made a plan to drive to Verve Cliquot down the road (which was closed) and from there to Moët and Chandon. Epernay was not what I was expecting – instead of cellar doors down long gravelly roads as we have in Australia, the champagne houses are literally houses down a fairly suburban looking street. Moët and Chandon was a beautifully presented house, with everyone dressed in suits and ties and just a hint of arrogance. 

As Naomi said, they just thought they were pretty good. And the champagne is! And that is why we took the tour. But the tour was boring, factual, precise, (did we need to know that the garden has 20,000 flowers?) – there was no life, no fun….and so we had to make our own! At the end of the tour we were allowed into the tasting room (where there were no chairs and no we werent’ allowed into the reception  room where there were chairs) to try two gorgeous glasses of vintage champagne. After they poured the glasses we decided to sneak out the open door into their lovely English garden (which we were only allowed to look at from the window). We were eventually sprung and told off and that led to great hillarity and when Darren blamed our transgression on Naomi (“that lady said we could,”) and the we sailed forth to tour the hills where the Grand Cru is grown and to finish with Vietnamese dinner in Reims (as you might expect it wasas little weird). We had to say goodbye to the Hansons as we had to to get the hire car back, but on the way home I began to feel worse and worse, until as we were flying along the motorway I had to ask Chris to pull into an aire. As he drew the car  between an enormous truck and van I fell out of the car on my hands and knees and proceeded to vomit helplessly for about five minutes. I vaguely heard some rustling on the other side of the van, but only as I stumbled back from the bathroom a bit later did I realise that two (poor, poor) Muslim men were tr ying to pray on the ground as I heaved up Vietnamese and two excellent glasses of champagne on the other side of the van next to them. Oh God!!! 

We carried on our trip to Paris, with Chris having to make one more stop on the street for me to heave again. We only made it back to the hie car company with a couple of minutes to spare and proceeded to the taxi rank to watch a big fight ensuing between a taxi driver and another man. We hustled Noami into a taxi, jumped in another one ourselves and finally got home and sank very, very gratefully into bed. Poor Naomi drove through a riot on the way home. It felt like a hellish night after a really delightful day. I was really sick for most of the next day and slept and slept. 

The next morning, we awoke with hope in our hearts. It was a new day, the children had been read the riot act, we had a kiwi guide called Alex who was going to take us all to Versailles….it would all be different today – and it was! 
Alex met us at the door at 10am and led us to out local Metro station and guided us through the labyrinthine metropolitan train network to Versailles. Although a kiwi by birth, Alex is obviously a Frenchman in his soul. He has lived in Paris for 10 years as a tour guide and he inspired us with his passion and magnificent story telling. 

At the gates of Versailles he began his story about Louis 13th and 14th – explaining how Louis the 14th had been told he was a gift from God, became king at the age 5 and was pushed around by courtiers jockeying for power and watching the mean streets of Paris from his windows in his palace at the Louvre. Is it any wonder he decided to build Versailles – safe from the masses and from where he could control the world? Alex lead us through the amazing gardens telling us a bit more of the story and then leaving us with a cliffhanger before he moved on to another part of the garden to resume another part of the story. Nicholas was an entranced as the adults (sadly Michael was barely listening!) as Alex told us about the politics, the scandals, the funny anecdotes and significance of the sculptures based on Greek and Roman myths warning his courtiers of the terrible ends that came to people who tried to usurp power! We couldn’t get enough of the great stories and almost felt sad as he finished with the French Revolution and the abrupt end of the last of the royal family. We bid him farewell and walked through the magnificent palace and the hall of mirrors, understanding now the significance of the mirrors and chandeliers facing the western sun in the most amazing room I have ever seen (Louis the 14th fancied himself as the reincarnation of the sun god Apollo) 

After a drink at a nearby hotel, we stumbled home with that feeling you get when you’ve been to an amazing movie or a really great concert. Dinner that night was a success! The kids had sushi at home (lol!) while the three adults chose a different and much better restaurant for chateau briande, pommies frites and salad! Much, much better! 

Nick (amazingly enough) was very keen to see the Louvre as he is doing a school project on it this term. Michael was keen to go for a bike ride and so we decided to kill two birds with one stone and cycle to the Louvre! Paris has bike hire stations all over the city and there’s was one just around the corner from our home and so we duly took possession of four bikes and proceeded to cycle (and I use this term loosely, as “wobble” might have been a more apt description for Michael and me) through the streets of Paris. I was still very un-used to traffic on the other side of the road and struggling with loose steering and almost no brakes so after a few blocks we reverted to the footpath (much safer for us if not for the pedestrians!!) and eventually wobbled down to the the stunning river front. The boys spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance and for a wonderful moment, really “got” that they were having an amazing experience in Paris!  

We sailed done to the Louvre, found a spot to park the bikes, and proceeded downstairs via the Tuileries, because we’d heard a hot trip that the queue would be shorter down there. Can I just say, that the queue was without exaggeration, at least 150 meters long, but we were feeling relaxed and so we decided to join it, with various family member popping in and out to do some shopping in the lovely stores downstairs as the queue moved along. Soon enough we found ourselves in the Louvre…and then we weren’t quite sure where to go! Nick was keen to see the medieval section as he had been studying it in history and I had a vague idea we should see the Egyptology section as we had to raced though it last time. Instead we wandered around in circles, feeling quite dazed and drained by the ubiquitous crowds, wandering from room to room, up tairs, downstairs, until we felt we’d had enough. 

In our aimless wanderings we did discover that the Louvre used to be a medieval castle and we wandered around the old walls and moat of the castle downstairs. Nick got to take another selfie in front of the Mona Lisa (which I always find quite irreverant and amusing), but then we definitely felt we were ready to go. 
By this time it was lunchtime and Naomi had arrived on her train from London and was ready to meet us in the Tuileries! It was really exciting seeing her and we had a wonderful lunch sitting in the sun eating (guess what?) baguettes and catching up on her trip to London. 

The occasion seemed to call for a drink so our next stop was a cafe within the gardens for a kir and glacé for the children, and then a stroll along the Champs Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe. 
At about this point, our children decided to turn vile – Michael was desperate for an enormous mask he had seen in the Disney Store which would not fit in our suitcase and Nick had decided he wanted Nike shoes after all. Michael sobbed all the way up the Champs Élysées and Nick sulked and poor, poor Naomi probably wondered why she had bothered coming to Paris at all!  Our sour afternoon finished with dinner at probably the worst restaurant in Le Marais, where Naomi’s medium rare steak was as tough and overlooked as an old boot, more unpleasantness from the children, and two very angry parents! 

Well here we are, back in Paris after 3 years away. After a gruelling 24 hour flight, with around 20 hours in darkness, we stumbled from the airport and emerged into the pale spring sunshine and into wonderful, wonderful Paris. 
This time we are staying in the beautiful neighbourhood of Le Marais. This upmarket, artistic neighbourhood is full of wonderful cafes, restaurants and artisan shops. I have never seen so many wonderful shops, full of beautiful things. Chris and I have walked and walked- exploring until we cannot walk another step. I can only hope that all this walking will save me – because I have fallen off the LCHF wagon big time. 

The baguettes are as wonderful as we remembered and we’ve bought and eaten 5 already today. It doesn’t help that we slather it in thick creamy butter and oozing French cheese – but it is so, so, so good that way. 
We arrived in the late afternoon, poor Michael falling sleep in the taxi, and after settling into our cosy, but modern and comfortable apartment, we began exploring our neighbourhood. After an early dinner of baguette and cheese (yes I’m sure the French make other food but we’re really rather crazy about baguette – and cheese!) Chris dragged me off the sofa for a walk. With only 3 hours sleep in over 48 hours I didn’t think I’d get very far – but the beautiful back streets of Le Marais with their fascinating shop windows impelled me further and further along, until we found ourselves down by the river by Notre Dame and exploring the little island with its lovely shops, street entertainers and bars. We had a cup of coffee on the street watching people walking by (around $8 for a American coffee – what happened to great French prices?) and stumbled home to bed. 

The next morning Chris and I were awake at 4.00am, so off we went again – walking and walking – past the Bastille watching the market stall owners setting up – and down by the river to watch the sun rise, along the river to the Louvre and Tuileries, and then back through the backstreets near Opera and back to Le Marais. All over it was about a 10km walk and I was feeling pretty tired. 

The kids were finally up, so after breakfast (yes it did include a baguette) off we all went again. Chris and I hope we learned our lesson from last time we were in Paris. On that trip we were so excited, and we dragged the kids from one historical site and art gallery to another. The kids were exhausted and hated it and as a result they thought they weren’t that crazy about Paris. This time, we decided to do what the kids wanted to do – and that involved shopping. Nick wanted to buy a pair of Nike shoes (yes they sell those in Australia too – but that’s what Nick wanted) and Michael just wanted to spend money! Once again we explored the backstreets of Le Marais – stopping outside shop windows to say to Nick – look at these fabulous clothes, wouldn’t you rather buy something French? (The answer was always in the negative) – until we came to Nike shop – which was closed. The Nike shop was the only closed shop in the whole of Le Marais and there was a group of rather hopeful people milling outside hoping for the doors to open but they remained stubbornly closed and we stood outside for half an hour hoping they would change their mind. 
This reminded me of something I admired and marvelled at with the French from our last trip – it doesn’t matter that there is money to be made (and judging from the number of people milling outside the doors to buy very expensive shoes, there would have been quite a lot of money to be made), the French reserve their right to enjoy their lives and not work 7 days a week. Finally we gave up and walked through Le Marais’ Jewish quarter looking for lunch. The backstreets were full of long queues which turned out to be people waiting in long lines to buy felafels. Another thing I’ve remembered about the French – they are willing to put up with quite a bit of inconvenience and trouble for good food. We, on the other hand, were here to eat French food, so we pressed on until we found a little restaurant where we enjoyed a lovely lunch – steak hatchet and chips for the kids and salad and fried sea bass/steak for us – washed down by a pitcher of Fume Blanc. Michael was keen to try some wine so we put a little into his glass with some water. It’s funny that such a FUSSY boy decided that wine was not so bad – he obviously takes after his parents far too much! Nick, curiously enough, was not interested in trying in and I guess I am very grateful for that (for now). 
We felt a little revived after lunch, and decided that our search for Nick’s shoes must continue (sigh) at Galleries Lafayette in Opera. We didn’t feel up to walking the 6kms across town so we order an Uber and drove there in style. I had never been to this gorgeous store before, but we’re all impressed with its beautiful interior and the plethora of gorgeous, gorgeous French clothes. Nick and Chris both tried on lovely jackets and Michael explored the toy section on the top floor. Nick finally abandoned his need for yet more expensive sports shoes and decided he had to have the jacket instead (doesn’t he look gorgeous in it? ) and Chris and I decided to think about his beautiful linen jacket that we both feel in love with because it is a little small and more than a little expensive. 

By now, beyond exhausted!!!! A taxi home, a quick shop for some staples (including more baguette) and quiet dinner of charcuterie, cheese, tomatoes and raspberries, an intention to watch a movie on Apple TV and then fast asleep on the couch by 630. All of us, except Michael, crawled off to bed (Michael had slept late that morning and had more stamina than all of us), exhausted, happy and ready for a new day and more adventures tomorrow.