Sponge Bucket: August 2012

greetings!

ok, so where were we? ah yes. i had spent about 10 days wandering around paris, drinking more wine than is strictly necessary and having deep, deep thoughts about life (i tell ya, there's nothing quite like finding yourself sitting under a tree in paris, scribbling self-indulgent nonsense into your notebook and alternating between weeping and rolling your eyes at yourself for being so dramatic*).

anyway, the day finally came for my dear friend charlie to arrive and get this party started. after finding me squatting on the doorstop of her apartment, deeply engrossed in a book, we quickly found a nearby restaurant to get pleasantly tiddily on vino and catch up. we then followed this with cheese, a baguette and even more vino back at her apartment (as it turns out, this would become standard behaviour for charlie and i during our time together). however, surprisingly, while we certainly enjoyed a drop (or 10) most nights, we didn't really 'go out' much. i am pleased to report it wasn't just the fact that i'm a lazy human (although that is true) but it really is exhausting walking around a city all day! charles was just as pooped as me come 9pm and was quite happy to snuggle up on her king single and watch a few episodes of 'girls' (have you seen it? it's brilliant!)

not to say we were boring. NEVER! we enjoyed many lovely meals, both home-cooked and in restaurants, we rode bikes around the city, we had picnics in the park and visited two museums — the louvre and musée d'orsay. we spent a day exploring the picturesque montmarte, visited sacré coeur and the arc de triomphe, went 20m underground to look at six million dead bodies (the paris catacombs, fyi) and went on a death-defying ride at a carnival. we sang, we danced and had more lols than you can poke a stick at. it was magnificent.

we did have one particularly boisterous evening, however, and this was to celebrate bastille day. (side note — we were told it's not really right to say 'celebrate' or shout 'happy bastille day!!!' or anything like that. but my friends, if we can't celebrate the commencement of one of history's most radical political and social revolutions, then really, what can we celebrate??) anyway, people seemed to be quite festive regardless and charlie and i were only too keen to join in. we had decided that we would go to a bar that had been recommended to us, before making our way down to the river to watch the fireworks. however, after getting to the bar, we quickly became friends with two ladies sitting at the table next to us and before we knew it, we'd spent the whole night there.

'twas a fantastic evening, full of good conversation, uproarious laughter, terrible attempts at french on our behalf and many, many, many g&t's. when we'd first arrived at the bar, i had promptly fallen in love with the bartender, whom i had dubbed 'caramel' due to his delicious skin tone. i was delighted whenever charlie or i finished our drinks, as it meant an excuse to stumble over to the bar and gawk red-faced at him. my french compadres told me earnestly that there is nothing sexier than a foreigner speaking french and convinced me that a few basic sentences would be the key to his heart. they were 'will you marry me?', 'i love you', 'i think you're cute' and 'i want to kiss you'. i tried to learn them all but the g&t's were not allowing my brain to function properly, so we settled on just one: veux-tu m'épouser? ('will you marry me?)' this was chosen after much deliberation and consultation, even asking the opinion of our new friend's boyfriend, the people at the table next to us and the security guard. all agreed — it was a winner.

i don't really remember much (i think i blocked it) except for sauntering up to the bar, reciting my carefully practiced french and then running outside to my friends, flopping into a chair and wailing 'HE'S ALREADY MARRIED!' they made the appropriate soothing sounds and assured me he must be gay or stupid or an asshole — or a gay, stupid asshole — if he was going to let a little thing like a wife hold him back. i agreed and we all cheers-ed to his impending divorce with another round of g&t's**.

anyway, before long charlie was doing that weird slow blinky thing that people do when they can't really see properly and asked me to please escort her home. despite being completely intoxicated myself, i set off in a brisk pace, dragging her about 2km in the wrong direction, all the while reassuring her that yes, i did know where i was going thank you very much! eventually i begrudgingly asked for directions and managed to get us both home in one piece. mind you, things weren't too pretty the next morning. let's just say i redefined the meaning of 'sick in bed'. SORRY CHARLIE :(

ok this is another long entry and i shall now let the pictures do the talkin. up next: more drunken debauchery in berlin! i promise afterwards i do sensible, normal things that don't involve drunkness and vomming***.

* let the record show, this only occurred once. for the most part, i was ridiculously happy and minced about paris like nobodies business (i'd hate to come off as being a sad sally who doesn't appreciate the fact that i am currently travelling around europe when there are so many others far less fortunate than i).

** i joke, of course. i wish you and your bitch wife well, caramel.

*** i just wanted to add another footnote because it's fun. but i'm sure there will be more drunkness and vomming.

straight out for vino.

you might say she's 'breading' in the right direction ^_^

sew heppy

precarious — and yes, i did spill it
(hence you'll notice a shirt change in the following photo).

more eiffel! you sick of it yet? better not be, there's many more in store!

arc de triomphe

i'm a sucker for sunflowers

the first of many amazing meals charlie prepared on this trip.
my poor culinary skills mean i will forever be a sous/ dish pig.

sacré coeur.
had such an urge to do a rolly polly down that hill, so i did!
what frivolity! what fun!

caught a pidgy mid-landing!

bonjour paris

happy as larry, just after i finished my rolly polly.

breakfast of champs!

montmarte <3

another day, another cemetery...

is it weird to have lunch while surrounded by 100 year old decaying corpses?
apparently we didn't think so!

of course, this guy could've had something to do with that...

i was obsessed with the movie and knew (know) every word to 'elephant love melody'...
however, it really wasn't as amaze as i'd hoped :(
ahhh tourism... you spoil everything (said the tourist).

i did a load of washing and my top (the one that had so generously come to my rescue
during the red wine spill, above) shrunk to the size of a doll! i was not pleased.