In Dublin fair city

Last weekend I had my first experience of travelling overseas all by myself. True, it was only an hour's flight and when I got there they still spoke the same language (almost) and ate the same food and watched the same TV, but the currency changed and I would have been pulled up quick smart if I'd dared mention it was the same country, so it still counts. I went to visit my lovely littlest sister Ali, who arrived there a few weeks ago following months of adventures in Peru and Ecuador. It started on Friday night, with Ali meeting me at the airport to make sure I got the 1.90 euro local bus into town rather than the 8 euro rip off tourist bus. She took me to her hostel which had a great location right on the river near Temple Bar, and then we went in search of food. We ate burgers and chips and fizzy drink in some place called Eddie Rocket's which is trying to be like an American diner from the 1950s. The weirdest thing about it was the toilets which were so far above the floor that my feet didn't reach the tiles. I know what you're thinking, but Ali's much taller than me and even she found them high.

Ali admitted that she always feels lame for ordering Fanta, but I admire her for being herself in the face of public ridicule.

After that we went to a pub in Temple Bar and had a Bailey's each and listened to some guy playing U2 and other songs, and because I'm a nana, we then headed back to the hostel. Ali's dorm mates were all dressed up and ready to go out but we'd decided to save our energy for Saturday night, so we put our PJs on and went to bed. It was my first experience sleeping in a dorm as well, and although I handled it fine for two nights in an all-girl space, I'm not sure how I'd go (a) for weeks or months at a time, or (b) sharing with rude smelly boys. I need a good nights' sleep to function properly. The first night we were woken up at some ungodly hour by one of our fellow (slightly drunk) girls ringing her mum back in Australia to tell her she'd lost her camera at the pub. The conversation did not go well. After she ended that call she went through her bag and realised her wallet was also missing, which warranted another tearful phone call home. I felt sorry for her; it's bad enough to lose those things but her mum obviously did not feel sorry for her at all, which made her more upset.

Ali doing her night time stretches on the dorm floor. Because I grew up with the same father, I do not find this strange at all.

The view from Ali's bed, across the Liffey to the Fourcourts area.

In the morning we joined the throngs of people taking advantage of the free breakfast; we both ate as much as dad does, in order to fill up for the day. It was really busy, being a weekend and late-ish in the morning; so busy in fact that when I came back to our seats after getting some toast, the French bloke at the same table had stolen my chair AND the map we'd had spread out. He apologised but it was still weird. Very French though. We decided on a vague walking plan, and headed off into the freezing cold, Ali without a jacket (but I didn't say anything, not wanting to be the bossy big sister).

Corpus Christie was first on the list...it cost 5 euro to go in, so we didn't, but we admired from the outside.

Then we found St Nicholas's, which was tucked away behind big brick walls in the middle of a very ordinary suburb. I loved it because it felt exactly how it must have 100 years ago.

After visiting multiple churches (in memory of our darling nana) we headed to St Stephen's Green, which is very pretty and relaxing even when it's freaking cold.

From St Stephen's Green we went to the National Museum of Archaelogy and looked at things like bowls, crosses, Viking jewellery and the most memorable, peat bog bodies. They really threw me, especially the one where the facial expression was still clearly visible. The man was very obviously thinking 'help, I'm in a peat bog.' Some of the bodies were headless or armless but it was quite amazing what they were able to figure out from what was left, like how old the person was, what they last ate and therefore what season it was, what they were wearing and therefore where they stood on the social hierarchy, and so on. Really it leaves CSI looking pretty ordinary.

After the Museum we went to Temple Bar to find the food market. Ali had mentioned it the night before as somewhere good to eat, and that morning one of the Aussie girls in the dorm had been saying it was one of the highlights of her week. So it seemed a must-do. Because there were 2 of us we decided we could buy lots of food and share it, so we had a very expensive and very delicious duck pie, some deep fried spring rolls and an Italian version, and then the very best brownie in the world. The brownie was a meal in itself...it was quite a challenge to finish it, even between 2 of us we had to give each other little pep talks to get through it. After that brownie we needed a rest so we headed back to the hostel for a cup of tea and relaxing game of Connect 4.

Ali trying to warm up with a cup of hot apple juice, served with a shot of apple brandy. Mmm.

We headed out again around 4pm, thinking we would go and see the Oscar Wilde and Molly Malone memorials and pick up some dinner to cook at the hostel. By this time it was dark (of course) and raining pretty heavily, so we only made it to Molly and then decided we would just go back to where it was warm and dry.

Ali and Molly Malone. Mum and Dad used to sing us the song when we were little so she has a special place in our hearts.

After dinner we got all dressed up in our finery and headed out to Temple Bar. We went to The Temple Bar (I know, how long did they take to come up with that) which was all decked out in Christmas decorations. It was really crowded but we found a corner, had some drinks and what-not, and then decided to find somewhere else. On the way it transpired that Ali's feet were killing her in her new Peruvian high heeled boots and my tummy was not agreeing with me, so back to the hostel it was for pyjamas and an episode of Charmed in the TV lounge.

All prettied up. Ali's head is not that big in reality.

I had an early flight so we got to eat breakfast without having our chairs stolen by any French people and then Ali walked me to the bus stop, where we realised the timetable in the hostel had been wrong and we had a good 20 minute wait ahead of us. It was freezing and dark (of course) but some nice taxi driver drove past and rescued me and another guy there who was going to the airport, so we got there a lot earlier than we would have otherwise. He was heading home to Minnesota, where it was going to be even colder. I was not jealous in the slightest.

Ali by the river, waiting to see me off. It's 8.30 in the morning here. I love this climate.

Other than that very brief trip across the water, things are fairly quiet on the Edinburgh front. I've lost my boring job at Scottish Widows so I'm now on the look out for something else; I don't hold much hope at this time of year but at least I have Christmas to look forward to, and I'm determined to be at least as good a housewife as Toby was when he was at home. I already have plans to wash the kitchen curtains. I think that's the kind of thing housewives do.

Other News

A few weeks ago we both started new jobs. This was a bigger deal for Toby, who hadn’t worked for 4 months and so hadn’t gotten out of bed before 8am for about the same amount of time. His official title is Management Information Analyst, some geeky IT-related thing at Scottish Gas. The office is down at Leith which means a bit of a commute (30 minutes in the morning, up to 60 at night). I’m sure if anyone is interested Toby will tell them more. I started as a temp with Scottish Widows, not a punk rock band but a pensions/investments sort of company. I know what you’re thinking, that sounds like it’s right up my alley. The pros and cons of this job are as follows.

Pros

It’s really close to home and the gym (20 and 10 minute walk respectively).
It actually has its own gym, which costs ¼ what I pay at Virgin Active, so I’m switching over at the end of this month.
I am working with actual people, in an actual team, which means I’m getting the chance to know people and (hopefully) making some friends in the process.
I’m getting paid more money.
I only have to work 7 hours a day (this actually negates the point above – I end up with the same amount in pocket as I did when I was working 7.5 hours a day).
There’s a shop just down the road that sells yummy soup.
If it’s raining or I don’t feel like leaving the building, we have our own cafeteria and coffee shop in-house (this is also a con, when the mid-afternoon sugar slump hits).
It’s a 6 month gig so it will basically keep me going until we leave Edinburgh, if I want it to.

Cons

It is an incredibly boring job. You know those financial advisors who come to your house and tell you where to invest your money? Well after they come to your house, they print up a little report and it gets sent to you with a bunch of application forms and shiny brochures. Well, I’m the person who looks at the report and puts the page numbers on it and so forth. It feeds my editing beast, kind of. Some of these advisors write like they haven’t even gone to high school, but there’s a limit to what I can change especially when I don’t understand a lot of what’s in there.
There isn’t a whole lot to do right now. In fact I’ve written this entry, the Paris entry, and more than half of my novel during working hours. Last week 3 of us got sent home at 12 (unpaid of course) because there wasn’t enough work. I don’t know if it’s going to pick up before Christmas or not, but as they haven’t fired any of us I’m assuming they think it will.
We don’t have access to the internet or email, or even Solitaire. This makes the not-having-enough-to-do thing even worse. There is an internet point in the lobby, like you have in malls or airports, but apparently it’s really slow and there’s some lady who always sits there for her entire lunch break, spilling crumbs into the keyboard.
I am totally not interested in finance. Not even a little bit. Being my parents’ daughter, I had to find a way to feel comfortable with the fact that I’m working for a company whose sole reason for existence is to make people more money. I decided that it was nice that these advisors were helping people like widows to sort out their finances so that they would have less to worry about at least. That worked until my parents sent me a book of Australian poetry for my birthday, which included a verse about financial advisors who eat widows for breakfast (or something like that). So now I’m trying to not think about the fact that not only am I not interested in the business, but I don’t even think it’s that important, in the grand scheme of things. It is making me appreciate my previous jobs even more.

There is no fridge, no microwave, and no kettle. I assume this is their way of making us eat the cheap mass-produced food in the cafeteria, but I don't like it. At all. There is a drinks machine - hot and cold water free, everything else costs 20p. I have had to buy myself one of those insulated lunch bags so I can take my lunch to work and it won't go warm and slimy (mum I think that's why I never liked school lunches, as long as I can refrigerate it, it's ok).

The most exciting thing that’s happened recently would be the purchase of Toby’s motorbike. Because the commute out to Leith every day was resulting in such long days (up at 6 to go to the gym, home after 6) Toby decided he needed some transport and what else would Toby want but a motorbike. The day we went to Paris, he went to Glasgow to look at bikes. Of course I was very supportive and completely understood why he would go to Glasgow to look at motorbikes when he needed to be on a 3pm bus to the airport (ha). But still it was very exciting when I got a phone call later in the day and he told me he’d put a deposit on a BMW bike. Last Saturday we were up bright and early to go and pick it up. It wasn’t even in Glasgow but was in Paisley, so that required two trains and a bit of walking, in the rain of course, because it’s always raining in Glasgow. They’d nicely put the bike inside out of the rain, so while they sorted out the paperwork we walked up to the post office to pay for the tax (rego) which of course can only be done at a post office, not all of which do tax, not all of which are open on Saturdays. Toby had done a lot of research and made a lot of phone calls to find nearby post offices, but in the end the guys in the shop directed us to one in the Paisley plaza. Even though Paisley itself hadn’t been very inspiring (exactly how you’d imagine a fairly industrial suburb of Glasgow), the plaza itself was quite pleasant and there was even a farmer’s market going on. I found this very exciting as we have yet to find anything similar in Edinburgh. We sorted out the tax and ate weird Scottish meat pies (the filling was kind of like a rissole – delicious but odd) and then went back to the bike shop to get kitted out in our new bike gear. I am now the proud owner of my very own motorbike helmet and jacket. We had very cleverly worn thermals under our clothes which I think was absolutely vital. The rain had stopped but it was still windy (it’s always windy here) and generally very Scottish, weather-wise. The trip home was brilliant, if a little chilly and longer than it had to be due to getting lost. It feels great to finally have our own transport. We are planning lots of little trips out of Edinburgh to see more of the coast and countryside, which we haven’t really done so far. The rest of the weekend was taken up with other bike-related things, like riding out to Toby’s work to test different routes, and buying a sat nav system so we’re not relying on Google Map print outs sticky-taped to the tank (which is how we’d gotten home from Glasgow). Edinburgh is certainly a fun city on a motorbike, what with all the hill starts and cobbled streets. We have seen parts of it that we would never have seen before and looking forward to a lot more exploring now we’re more mobile.
So now that the birthday in Paris is over and we are working hard it’s time to look forward to Christmas, which we’re spending in Edinburgh with my sisters. We’ve booked three nights in Berlin over New Year’s and are starting to think about a jaunt to Prague in January or February, as it is a city high on our list of must sees. Probably not the most pleasant time of year to visit Eastern Europe, but that’s ok. I’m also going to go and visit Ali in Dublin in a few weeks’ time – I am really excited about the thought of seeing an actual family member, even if the weather in Dublin doesn’t sound like it’s any better than what we have here right now. Edinburgh is really cold at the moment; I’ve been told it’s due to the lack of cloud. It’s slightly warmer today which I’m assuming is due to the arrival of rain. Luckily Toby has figured out how to put our heating on a timer, so it turns on in the morning and at night before we get home. It really is very cold, like what you’d get on a snowfield back home. Trying not to be too miserable about it though; it’s far too early in the season to be moaning about the weather. Now that there’s a motorbike in the picture we are also going to think about exploring some of Europe on it next year when the weather warms up, before heading home. What a strange thought.

Toby in his new motorbike gear. Can't decide if he looks like a ninja or an executioner. Either way, he's warm.

On the bike, on the way to Loch Lomond. Neither of us were crazy about the idea of a yellow motorbike, but the big plus is that it's highly visible...people look in their rear view mirrors and get out of our way. Which is what you want them to do on the highway.

This is Loch Lomond, the biggest loch in Britain. This photo does not do it justice, in any way. Trust me when I say I have never seen anything quite like this.

Today we got our first glimpse of Highland Cows, which basically look like shetland ponies, only...more cow-y.

A birthday weekend in Paris

Soon after we decided to come and live in the UK for a year, I announced to Toby that he could take me to Paris for my birthday. We’ve been to Paris before, on our whirlwind backpacking trip a few years ago. Because I’d gotten all cocky with our ability to find hotels of our own accord, I’d cancelled our hostel reservation so the first thing we had to do was find a hotel. Which we did. It was horrible, very small, very crampy, and smelt strongly of smoke. The next morning we’d checked out and headed to an Internet café to find something better. Due to a very inaccurate map (this was in the days before Google Maps, our new best friend) we spent the next 5 hours or so trying to find another hotel. Did I mention it was raining and I was wearing my new beige suede shoes? You can imagine how they looked after that adventure. So that was 1.5 days spent in Paris, gone. We went up the Eiffel Tower, visited the red light district (ostensibly to view the Moulin Rouge), and saw the Mona Lisa so we didn’t completely waste the trip. But I have always felt we missed out on an opportunity to really experience Paris, which is why I wanted to go again. And a birthday is an excellent excuse.

We headed off around 5.30 on Thursday 1 November, arriving in Paris an hour and a half later. National Novel Writing Month had started that day so I spent most of the trip trying to get my word count up, correctly guessing I wouldn’t have many more chances over the weekend. We got the train from the airport into the city and then changed to the metro to take us to our hotel. How I love the metro. Toby couldn’t stop talking about how it was the perfect public transport system, and listing all the reasons why. The only thing I don’t like about it is the buskers because they never play decent music and I think that’s just rude, because there’s nowhere you can go if you don’t like what they’re playing.

The hotel was a 5 minute walk from the Arc De Triomphe, but the best thing about it was the (partial) view of the Eiffel Tower from our window. At night especially it looked amazing all lit up. It was a very cute, very French room. The weirdest thing was the bath which came with a hand-held shower head, but the wall next to the bath came out at such an odd angle that you couldn’t stand up straight. I ended up just sitting in the bath but Toby, not being that good at sitting, struggled. We needed a little stool, like you get in the Japanese baths. It was very strange but felt like an authentic European experience.

Our hotel (on the left) with the Eiffel Tower. I'm not sure how people knew they were in Paris before they built it. It took my breath away the first time I saw it from the train, coming in at night.

Once we were settled we went downstairs to ask the man at reception where we could get some food. By this time it was after 10pm and we knew there wasn’t much around the hotel that was open. The man told us something about it being Halloween and therefore a lot of things were shut. Weird, especially considering it wasn’t actually Halloween. We finally found this teeny tiny little supermarket and bought some crackers, ham and cheese to have a carpet picnic back at the hotel. Seriously, it is difficult to describe how small this supermarket was. Anyway. That was the first night.

The next day was my birthday, which started with a card from Toby that made fun of my shoe fetish. (I know, how dare he.) It also started with some chocolate left over from the night before, because if you can’t have chocolate for breakfast on your birthday then it’s just not a birthday. We found a bistro not far from the hotel that served breakfast so we found a table. The old man working there didn’t really seem to know English, but that was ok. We’ve gotten a lot more confident with just muddling our way through; French is pretty easy because you can normally figure out roughly what something is. Not like Japan. I asked for an omelette and Toby got a crepe, and some coffee. Easy things to order. The man put a placemat and cutlery down in front of me, plus a little basket of bread, and we both got coffee (which isn’t what we normally drink, but I didn’t want mispronounce ‘tea’). Then I got my omelette. It was the best omelette I’ve ever had; it was just cheese and ham but it was brilliant. Toby’s crepe still hadn’t arrived, and the lack of a placemat and cutlery did not bode well. He was eating all the bread but then we got given the bill and yep – there was no crepe there. I still don’t know how we missed that one, but since the omelette was huge I very nicely let him have the second half. That’s just what I do.

One thing I love about Paris is the flower shops. They're everywhere, and they're massive, taking up so much room. I love what this says about the importance placed on beautiful, natural things.

After breakfast we went to the metro station and waited behind an English woman who was trying to buy some tickets from the machine. She was getting very frustrated; she had some rowdy kids jumping around and her husband was several metres away, looking at a wall map and pretending he didn’t know them. Finally they figured it out and then the guy in front of us got halfway through his purchase and walked away, leaving the instructions all in French. We still got our tickets fine, so I don’t know what the English lady was doing wrong. We took the metro to the Catacombs, which I’d decided was what I wanted to do. Might seem an odd choice for a birthday outing, but really it’s just one step up from when mum and dad used to take us for picnics in cemeteries on family holidays.

The line to the Catacombs was really long by the time we got there. I held our place while Toby went in search of a public toilet which was apparently disgusting and scary (I forget the details). We waited around an hour, which was made more bearable by some tasty crepes we got from over the road. Yum. When we finally got to the ticket window I was amazed because people aged 14-26 got in for half price!!! So I flashed my drivers license and only paid 3.50. It’s been ages since I was considered young enough to get a discount, and even though I’d been feeling a bit down about turning 26, this made it seem ok. The Catacombs themselves were brilliant and we were both so glad we’d made the trip, and waited in line. I found it odd that they’d been open since the 1800s to the public; one reason I think I found it almost normal is because there is no way I would have known any of skeletons down there, or been related to them or anything. But to visit so soon after they’d been exhumed, surely that chance would have been real for some visitors? At first you were really struck by the fact that you were walking through corridors created by piles of human bones, but after a few minutes it felt more normal and you could appreciate the effort and care it must have taken to make it look like that. I wished I had better French; there were lots of quotations and things marked onto the walls which I didn’t understand. It was great though.

Here are some spooky photos of bones and stuff:

After the Catacombs we walked up to the Luxembourg Gardens, had a look at the Palace (only from the outside) and watched little kids play with their sail boats on the pond. It all felt very French. Then we got the metro back to the hotel and went for a quick walk up to see the Arc De Triomphe and Champs Elysees before heading back to our room to rest and make ourselves beautiful for my birthday dinner.





This is my new house, up on the top floor with the views over Luxembourg Gardens.

Two random ladies in front of Luxembourg Palace. Note the green chairs where you can sit and people watch. I can't imagine how crowded this place gets in summer.

More of the gardens. This is the pond where the little kids stick their sail boats. Some smart ass had brought along his remote control speed boat. Talk about ruining the ambience.

The Pantheon, where lots of important French men are buried. I'm not sure where they've buried all the important French women...

I wish I could order a country to build a monument in my honour. Toby was quite taken with the logistics of such a massive roundabout.

Toby getting dressed up for my birthday dinner. What a man.

I’d booked http://www.lecoupechou.com/ which I'd seen recommended for special occasions on the Lonely Planet forums; I don’t normally bother making reservations in foreign countries but I didn’t want us to wander around, get lost and tired and hungry, and end up somewhere sub-standard. The restaurant was tucked away in a back street of the Latin Quarter and you would never find it if you weren’t looking for it. It was in an old building and we were seated up on the third floor. It was a gorgeous restaurant full of little nooks and crannies, complete with open fireplaces. The room we were in was empty except for us when we first arrived, which was a little strange but luckily it started filling up after a while. We had a glass of champagne to start with chose the set menu, with 3 courses. Toby ordered the duck starter and then steak tartare for his main; when he said that the waiter automatically said, ‘It’s raw.’ He is obviously used to tourists ordering steak tartare and then being surprised when it’s not what they expect. Toby had a flashback to severe food poisoning in Japan following raw beef (even though it was because of the water that he was sick) and changed his mind. I got a salad for the starter and then duck confit for my main. The food was great, lots of it, very buttery (even my salad) and French. We shared a bottle of rose wine and dessert was a very rich chocolate mousse and crème brulee. I think I ate most of it, for some reason Toby found the mousse too rich. Crazy. All in all it was a perfect way to end a very delicious birthday.

On Saturday morning we had bread and cheese in our hotel room for breakfast, but unfortunately there was no tea or coffee provided so we had to drink water. I’m not sure if that’s a particularly European thing; I can’t imagine ever getting accommodation in Australia without tea and coffee in the room, no matter how dodgy the place. The first thing on the list for Saturday was Notre Dame. We got the metro (of course) into the city and then walked over the Seine to the Notre Dame courtyard. It is a very impressive building. The line to get in was really long, and it was starting to rain, so we just enjoyed the view from the outside and then walked across to the Saint Chapelle church as well. Again, another really long line so we kept walking and had an explore of the Saint Germaine district. Which is pretty much the quintessential Paris – exactly what you imagine, with the bistros and cake shops, gorgeous boutiques and cobbled laneways. After lunch we got the metro again to go and see the Sacre Couer. The guide book suggested 2 different metro lines to get there, but I could see there was another line that went close by and would mean we didn’t have to switch trains. So we got that one and when we came up onto the street we realised we were the only white people we could see. I’m not sure if it’s officially the ‘African’ quarter of Paris that we saw, but it was like a Chinatown, only African, full of African supermarkets and beauty shops selling hair extensions and skin whitener. It was strange, like we’d come out into a whole different city. A white French man saw us with the guidebook out and told us where to go to find the Sacre Couer – I guess in that area any white person with a guidebook is looking for it.

Looking down the Seine to Notre Dame.

Notre Dame, close up.

Cool Parisian street, with my head in the way.

We had a hilly walk up to the church, complete with many steps, but once we got there it was definitely worth it. The views alone were brilliant, even on a not-so-clear day like that one. There was no line to get into the church so we had a wander inside and then made our way down into Montmartre, being accosted by African men selling souvenirs and wanting to braid bracelets onto our arms the whole way down. I had wanted to have a walk around Amelie-land but somehow we ended up in the red light district. I know, what a surprise. We had a coffee at some random little bar and then headed back to the hotel because Toby needed a nap.

Steps up to the Sacre Coeur.

It is a pretty amazing church.

The views are amazing too. And the best thing is - they're free!!! Although you do have to walk up all those steps...

the Moulin Rouge. Not as impressive in the day time.

That afternoon I went out to the Champs Elysees to meet my friend Amy and her mate Deb, whom many of you will remember from a previous blog entry including a visit to the castle and cocktails made from Moet. Somehow it turned out that they were on their final stop in Paris on the same weekend as we were there. We went into lots of different shops including a massive fancy cosmetics place which I’d read about in the guide book but didn’t want to drag Toby into. It was so cool, but unfortunately very expensive so n

On Saturday night Toby and I went to where Amy and Deb were staying, in Deb’s dad’s apartment. It was quite an adventure just getting there, as the metro line was closed and we had to get a bus which meant we were about an hour late. The apartment was gorgeous, exactly how you’d imagine a rich person’s apartment in Paris, and in an area full of lovely old buildings. Amy and Deb had put on a great dinner so we ended up having a dinner party in Paris, definitely a must-do, complete with amazing little cakes they’d bought at a nearby patisserie. After dinner we wanted to go out for a drink but the nearest place we knew of was an ‘Irish’ pub Toby and I had passed on our way in, so that’s where we went. It was actually more full of Australian paraphernalia (like big flags with Fosters written on them) than Irish, but we had some drinks anyway and then headed home.

Deb, Toby and me at the Irish pub.

Me & Amy

The first Sunday of every month is free museum day in Paris, so we’d saved our gallery trip for that day. Amy decided to join us so we met at the Arc in the morning and then got the metro to the Centre Pompidou, Paris’s gallery of modern art. From the metro we just had to walk up the block and the building was right there, so we joined the queue and sent Toby up to see how long it would be. He was gone so long we started hoping he’d gone off to get a crepe (as you do in Paris), but he said he’d just walked up the line and back again. At least 4 times longer than the one we’d been in for the Catacombs was his assessment. At some point in the line we passed a glass sign that had ENTRÉE written on it, with an arrow pointing around the corner. Then it said ENTRÉE BIBLIOTECH, with an arrow pointing in the direction we were heading. That’s weird, I thought. I pointed it out to Toby, who said that since the ENTRÉE was written in red, that meant it was closed. An interesting theory. After some more time, we decided a crepe would help, so Amy and I headed around the corner to a big courtyard lined with shops and restaurants to find a crepe stand. There was another line snaking its way into the same building, and we briefly wondered if that was where we should have been, but ended up going back to join Toby in the line instead. Finally we passed another sign with ENTRÉE on it, and this time it was definitely pointing in another direction, and that was just three too many signs that we were in the wrong place. It was then we started to realise that there were no loud Americans in the line. In fact, we were surrounded by young French people, many of them reading text books and highlighting paragraphs and writing things in the margin. It was too suspicious. By this time we’d been waiting an hour, but we left the line and headed around to the other side of the building, hoping that none of the people near us had known enough English to realise how stupid we’d been, and how long it had taken us to realise we were in the wrong place.

Sculpture things outside the Pompidou.

More sculpture things.


The front of the Pompidou. Yeah, don't know how we missed that one.

We walked straight in the doors and into the exhibitions, and tried not to think about how much time we’d just wasted standing outside. It was a great gallery and we really only got to see half of it, and not all that much of the half either. Something else for us to do next time we are in Paris. After that, we went to one of the bistros in the courtyard and had croque monsieurs for lunch, because that’s what tourists do. And then it was sadly time for Toby and I to get the train out to the airport, although not before we’d had some yummy gelato.

Saying goodbye to Amy.

So that was the weekend of falling in love with Paris, and if anyone offers either of us a job there, we will not be turning it down. What a brilliant city.

Amy & Deb's Visit

Last weekend we had the pleasure of hosting Amy, a friend of mine from back home, and her friend Deb, for a few days. We took the opportunity to do some touristy things, show off our knowledge of walking routes, and go back to the delicious Chinese restaurant we discovered a few weeks ago.

Amy arrived on Friday evening, having left Deb to spend some quality time with her family back in Wales. We did our usual Friday night tradition of heading to the local pub and then home for Toby's homemade pizza in front of a movie. I always apologise to guests that they have to follow our Friday night routine (pretty much unchanged for the past 4-5 years) but funnily enough no one has ever complained.

The next morning Amy and I headed into the city for some proper shopping. Unfortunately Amy had left all her T shirts in London which sadly meant she needed to re-stock. I had to buy a new Edinburgh friendly coat and we absolutely had to buy the sparkly red shoes with bows on them that were only 5 pounds. We decided it was ok to buy the same shoes, because we live in different countries. (And did I mention they were 5 pounds.) We met up with Toby for lunch at Chocolate Soup where we had to try the Chocolate Dunk - essentially a little tub of thick chocolate served with a wedge of shortbread which you dipped into it. You could feel your teeth rotting on the spot. Although it had rained all morning it began to clear up after lunch, which was lucky as our next stop was Edinburgh Castle (via the Royal Mile and the fudge shop of course).

Me and Amy in some box outside the castle. Note the new coats. The castle proved to be less a castle and more a village of very impressive buildings dating from the 1400s onwards.

The thing that really hits you about the castle is the incredible views, all 360 degrees of them. It's all very strategic (although as Toby says, considering there's a Union Jack flying on the roof, it didn't work very well).

This is the cemetery for officers' dogs, on a terrace above one of the big squares.

We also got to see the Scottish Crown Jewels (which Amy assured us were much less impressive than those she'd seen at the Tower of London a few days earlier), the Royal Hall, the room where King James was born, and the cellars where hundreds of soldiers hid during a months-long siege (a lot of them died, unsurprisingly).

After the castle we headed home to rest our feet and sample some of the fudge before making ourselves beautiful for our night out, which I had planned with the help of one of the party girls at my office. First stop for the night was Chop Chop, for the dumplings and other delicious things. Then we walked into the city to Tonic, a bar which had been recommended to me for its amazing cocktails. And it absolutely delivered.

Amy drinking a Bellini, one of our favourite cocktails which we had to have in honour of our mates back home. The thing about this Bellini that was so special was it was made with MOET. Amy decided this was definitely a highlight of her trip. It was really delicious. The next one we tried was a Silver Mercedes, a vodka cocktail made with orange sorbet that was brilliant. It was around this point that Amy fell in love with the cute, flirty barman who I thought was Irish but apparently he's Glaswegian.

Toby was less impressed by his cocktails (and the bar staff).

After Tonic we headed to Lulu, where Toby decided it was time to go home. It was a fantastic club full of beautiful people, with enough seats for everyone and a very funky dancefloor where the ceiling was only about 6 foot high and covered with tiny lights, and the floor was very Saturday Night Fever. The music wasn't daggy enough for us (no singing possible) but we had a good boogie anyway.

Note Amy's fab new shoes. I bought the same, as well as another pair in grey. After we'd had enough at Lulu we decided to head back to Tonic for a nightcap and so the barman could fall in love with Amy. Unfortunately it was shut so we headed home for hot chocolate and toast, because we are nanas at heart.

The next morning we slept in, spoke to parents on the phone, ate pancakes cooked by Toby, and went for a wander through the Meadows, Greyfriar's Kirk churchyard, and the Grassmarket which are some of my favourite spots in Edinburgh. After a coffee we headed home to rest and await Deb's arrival. Sunday night we ate Mexican food and watched plenty of TV, because we were all tired from our big night before. On Monday I had to get up and go to work, while the rest of the house took the train to Glasgow and then visited the Botanic Gardens. After work we met up for yet another drink at Tonic, where the barman was on duty but perhaps didn't recognise Amy without all her finery. Since Tuesday was Deb's birthday we celebrated with greasy Chinese from the local takeaway, Irn Bru (Scotland's national drink) and chocolate mudcakes. Poor Deb had a cold and probably didn't feel like eating any of it, but she was a very gracious guest.

Very quickly, the following exciting things are happening for us in the next 2 weeks:

• Toby starts his new job tomorrow, doing IT for Scottish Gas. After 4 months away from work I think he is somewhat daunted by the idea of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and properly interact with society.
• I start a new job myself on Tuesday. After weeks of feeling unchallenged, unappreciated and lonely in my job I decided I couldn't take any more and started looking elsewhere. I have been offered a long-term position at Scottish Widows, which sounds like a punk goth band but is actually a financial investment company. It's not a reception position, it's a bit more money, and it's close to home and the gym so I'm feeling quite positive about it. Also I'm starting with 2 other temps which I figure gives me an immediate support group. It's meant to be quite a social area. I'm looking forward to the change.
• We are going to Paris for 3 days, for my birthday. I feel like the Beckhams (sans the private plane and suite at the Hilton of course).
• I am going folk dancing, and to some other meeting for something, thanks to Elle who I went to high school with and have since discovered (thanks to Facebook) is also living in Edinburgh. We had a coffee yesterday and she confirmed that Edinburgh is a place where it is difficult to get to know people, and it is expensive to live here. So it's not just me. It was nice to see a friendly face and chat with someone who really understood. She had some great ideas for things to do and has also inspired me to look into an evening class I could do, rather than relying on work to meet people which is never a good idea.
• We are going to plan a Highlands trip soon.
• We are starting to plan Christmas, and our trip to Berlin for New Years.

Well that's about it from us. It's been a really quiet weekend, to recover both physically and financially from the excitement of last weekend. It's time to clean the bathroom, iron clothes, and do other things to get ready for the week. Lots of love to those at home who are sweltering in Canberra's unseasonable hot, dry weather. I promise we would send you some of this rain if we could.