More European bucket list-y travel this weekend - P and I hit Paris to support friends running the marathon/use their marathon as an excuse for excessive indulgence.
Let me just say I heart Paris in an achy, breaky kind of way. However, I'm sorta glad I don't live there because all I swear that all I achieved this weekend was eating and drinking. I ate a baguette on the sideline of the marathon to quell a hangover, for fuck's sake. This was at about the 35k marker; I'm sure all those poor participants were grateful to see my fat ass munching on a french stick just at the point where they realised that there were still 7ks to go. Honest to goodness, I ate and drank my bodyweight this weekend and I feel so queasy at work this morning that I think I finally believe in karma.
Also, my friends DOMINATED THE RACE. One of the girls, in her first ever marathon, came home in 3 hours 47 minutes, which if you ask me is freaking outstanding. Another ran the entire race on a bung foot and bung knee and still finished in 4 hours 15! I'm so proud, you have no idea. I'm not sure I could personally ever handle a marathon (Lumpy Knee does not love the running and frankly, neither do I), but as I watched the stream of runners getting closer to the end of the race, the sense of achievement and pride you could see on faces, albeit mixed with grimaces of pain and suffering, was just lovely and I was a tad jealous. But then I went back to the baguette and gnawed away my feelings.
OK BACK TO FOOD. FOOD FOOD FOOD. BOOZE BOOZE BOOZE.
Highlight of Friday was the best chocolate mousse I have ever eaten. We got in late off the Eurostar, so P and I dropped our bags at the hotel and wandered down to a neighbourhood joint. We hadn't researched or booked anywhere; we just walked in off the street. A very nice main was followed by the proffering of the dessert chalkboard and the assurance from Monsieur the proprietor that he had "the best chocolate mousse in Paris". We laughed; he looked marginally offended and told us to check the internet. HOLY CRACK PUDDING, that stuff was unbelievable. DIVINE. It came in a giant bowl from which you served yourself. The man was brave to let me at it with a serving spoon…I almost licked the bowl once we were done.
Saturday's highlight - Aux Deux Amis. Go there. Just do it. We were a party of six who ate almost the entire menu, which was composed entirely of specials. Completely irresistable, fresh and delicious, as were the four bottles of wine we demolished and the aperitifs. The entire bill came out at something like 35 euros per person, which is fantastic value for money. Not a particularly fancy place, but it had wonderful atmosphere and was packed to the rafters. We commenced at 8.30 and rolled out at 1ish, laughing and sated. It was so lovely to see some of my Masters' classmates, some of whom are now living in Paris. Two Paraguayans, an Australian, a Belgian and we two Kiwis had lots to share - telling filthy stories about translation difficulties a particular highlight of my night. Lowlight: falling down the stairs in the Metropolitain, chest first into the railing, jamming my necklace with pointy bits into my decolletage...shameful AND hurty. At least I have the excuse of ankle booties with five inch heels, but TYPICAL nonetheless.
|GORGEOUS BUT LETHAL. POINTY BITS STABBED STRAIGHT INTO THE BONY BITS OF MY CHEST. SHUDDUP, I DO HAVE SOME BONY BITS ON MY CHEST. ABOVE THE SQUISHY BITS. |
PRETTY THOUGH, NO? MAH LADIEEEZ GAVE IT TO ME AS MY SOMETHING NEW BEFORE THE WEDDING. TASTE, THEY HAZ IT.
Sunday - it took some celebratory champagne with the runners after the race to get me back on the level. I am STILL nauseous today after drinking my way home on the Eurostar last night. Shouldn't complain though - really, I am still blissfully happy after a lovely weekend.