OMGYOUGUYS. It's time for my monthly blog post. I'm really killing it this year. I figure one a month and then MyBloWriMo in November again, and I've got a real thing going here.
So let's talk about April!
Son of a gun. I just took a sip of my coffee and realised that I forgot to boil the water in the kettle before pouring it in. WHAT FOUL BEAST IS THIS CUP!
Ah, well. Too lazy to get up and fix it. *slurp*
Okay. It turns out I have very little to say about April. Or possibly too much, and can't be bothered with the effort of applying all those words to
So on that note: Hey! Pictures!
We went to Paris the weekend before Easter and it was lovely. I forgot how lovely it was. I don't know why I don't go more often, it's so ridiculously close. That's actually probably why: when a weekend can be spared for a city break, there's a sense of 'I can go to Paris anytime! It's right there! But Berlin, on the other hand, is totally new to me...!'
This time, though, an exception was made because the Eurostar vouchers in our grubby little paws required us to go. And I'm glad they did. Just LOOK at the place:
They've got buildings and stuff.
This visit was particularly exciting because I recently acquired a new lens - an absolute stunner of a telephoto (thank you, Uncle John! I love it too much!!) - and I couldn't wait to give it a go. It meant I could photograph all the people I wanted from a masterful, unobserved distance. A dream come true! Usually I'd have to get right up in people's faces to get a good shot, which made me tons of friends.
Do you know what I think my favourite thing in France is? The flea markets. The combination of charm and junk is just bar-none. You can really find some spectacular trinkets, and the flea market at Place d'Aligre was no exception. It was chock-FULL of stuff I didn't need but desperately wanted. It also had produce, but as a tourist staying in a hotel, there was little point to perusing those gems, other than to note the proliferation (and consequent affordability) of white asparagus, with a half-second thought spared to whether they'd fare well in a suitcase.
Speaking of: I took some photos of all that gorgeous veg but they look like every other farmer's market photo in the history of farmer's market photos. Is there any way to shoot a food market that's remotely unique or interesting? I mean, really, how many pictures of piles of citrus, layers of sausages, mounds of cheese, and stacks of vintage crates does the world need? I for one am all full up.
But them people:
I like to imagine that the guys in the top right photo are comparing their purchases: 'You paid HOW much for that gilded mirror?? That's it, I'm returning mine. I got robbed.'
We had gorgeous smoked meat at The Beast, a pizza picnic on the canal with Pink Flamingo, oysters at Paris Peche, carnitas at L'Adelita, and a stunning brunch at Claus. Also, bistros and stuff. Maybe all we did was eat, now that I think of it.
When the sun comes out, the canal turns into a giant picnic:
Paris, London, Buenos Aires: all filled with unbearably hip cats.
Oooh, hey! We went to a museum! See! We ARE class.
Look at this clock. Just LOOK at it. My new lens is insane. I think we also saw art, like paintings and sculptures and stuff.
You guys want to play caption contest? Because these works are begging for it:
My dollhouses! Ruined!
Has anyone seen my monocle?
Museums. What a comedy.
In other news, London has really been pulling out the stops lately. You can see the sky (it's blue!) and there's a sun, and it even seems like the weather is inching up, degree by degree, though I'm terrified of saying so, lest it all slip immediately underfoot and we're plunged back into winter.
Want to see a picture of a beautiful girl? This is Katie. She is good and kind and funny and a librarian and a writer, so right away we have almost nothing in common. We recently went to a quilting workshop (we retired nearly immediately) and last weekend we hit Tate Modern (where the below was snapped) and soon we will be checking out the Liverpool Street Station archaeology project (they're excavating a burial ground! Called Bedlam!* With 20,000 bodies, they think!).
So yeah, I think it's safe to say we know how to have a good time.
I would like everyone to leave a comment about how porcelain her skin is. She would be super embarrassed and possibly never speak to me again. SO WORTH IT.
I'll leave you now with one last photo taken from the top of the Montparnasse (have I mentioned my new lens?):
I hope your April is going well!
Big hugs and lots of love,
*This has got to be the equivalent of all those 'ancient Indian burial ground' ghost stories we tell as children in Oklahoma. Except ten times worse. I'm of half a mind to get out of London now.