Paris, Je t’aime!

Yes, I love Paris. I knew I would. I’d seen enough films.

And what’s more, I think it loves me too.. if strange men constantly telling me I’m ‘magnific!’ counts as proof.

We were so relieved to leave Euro Disney and travel into Paris proper on Friday! As a fitting tribute to our romantic ideal formed mostly from movies and books, we arrived into Paris just on dusk. We crossed the street from the train station to sit on red wicker chairs at an outdoor bistro and enjoy coffee, french fries and my first real sight of the most beautiful city I have EVER seen. The gothic stone buildings all in perfect proportions were glowing in the sunset. We acknowledged what a perfect moment it was and lingered to savour it. A taxi took us to the location of our borrowed apartment where we collapsed for 10 minutes and, too excited to stay indoors, headed out into the Paris night. We took the Metro to Montmartre and walked up the steps to gaze in awe at Sacre Ceur - a stunning church on the top of the hill at Montmartre, adorned with iron statures that melt green, staining the pristine white stone.

The steps in front of the church were a hotbed for nocturnal tourists and drunk teenage Parisiens. We wandered down the other side of the hill and found ourselves in what has become my favourite area. Here we discovered a late night jazz bar with a fantastic rag-tag band playing old swing tunes with a piano, double bass, mounted wash-board and a clarinet - all squeezed into a tiny corner. 

The rest of the weekend was spent in similar fashion, wandering through narrow cobblestone streets, shopping and eating, gaping and snapping.

Sunday night was my first gig in Paris. It was at a place called Le Motel - a hidden bar that is dirty-cool like Lyttelton’s Wunderbar. The people were lovely and although I had lost my voice a few days earlier and sounded like a very bad Tom Waits impersonator, the crowd was incredibly kind and generous. After my gig, Haydn handed me some sort of cocktail named after some famous French actor or something.. it was tres bon and so we had to have many.

Having not had dinner before the early gig, Haydn and I (Stas, being pregnant and therefore not drinking, was our kind and bemused babysitter) stumbled from Le Motel in search of food a few hours later. Luckily, a chinese restaurant appeared around the corner and was still serving food.

 - I have to say, I’ve never been much for shoes. I only ever wear heels for gigs and even then, they’re barely heels. But Paris has made me want pretty shoes. The shoes here are amazing! The strange paradox however, is that it’s also the most inappropriate city for heels, with streets and footpaths wonkier than Willy and cracks you could fall into up to your thigh. This became very apparent this night. Heels + strange French cocktails + Paris streets = bad idea. -

On Monday morning, my friends left back to London. I had planned to do all sorts of solo sightseeing but my cold had been aggravated by a lack of rest so it was time for a day off.

My next Paris gig was Tuesday night. It was at a tres, tres trendy club called Le Baron.  This is the the kind of place where you need to be on a guest list to get in. Its so cool it doesn’t even have signage of any kind so I walked straight past it when arriving for soundcheck and walked an extra 6 blocks with my guitar feeling heavier and heavier and a blister forming on my hand from carrying it. Once I checked the address and found what should have been an entrance, I was contacted by the promoter who apologised that through a mis-communication, I was 2 hours early!

Exhausted and annoyed, I wandered back towards the tube station hoping to find something edible and affordable in this expensive area. I read a few menus and started to feel completely despondent. I turned around to try a new direction and looked up to see, towering before me - The.. Eiffel.. frickin….Tower! To be honest, I had almost been avoiding this postcard fodder monument, but now that I had literally stumbled into it, I was dumbstruck with delight. It was just so… magnificent. Completely lit up in blue light and just a few blocks away. The Eiffel Tower! I didn’t care that I looked like a maniac, floating on the spot and grinning for the longest time, sucking in the sweet sureality of the moment.

I made it back to the bar at the correct time. I was pleased to see that the interior was quite fantastic with red couches and fabric walls. When I asked about the guest list I had been asked to provide for my free gig,  the bartender explained to me that even if a man rolls up in a ferrari with 2 beautiful women, he doesn’t neccesarily get in - if the doorman doesn’t know him.

I was set up in the middle of what I later realised was a dance floor. My voice was back to 80% and the gig went well apart from a few small sound issues that were quickly sorted out by the scrawny sound guy - Arno, who I teased several times from the stage for drinking a strawberry champagne cocktail. He didn’t seem to get what was funny. Neither did the crowd. About three minutes after I finished my intimate set, dance music was pumping out of the speakers and the room became a dance club. The transformation was astounding. And scary. I only stayed for one more drink before finding a taxi.

To complete the night, my driver on the way home insisted on taking me around all the of the most beautiful places in Paris for free because he was bored. He then proceeded to explain the history of each famous view in lengthy French even though it was obvious I couldn’t understand a word! Paris, Je taime!