Things you might see in Montmartre #3

Sooo, remember how the other day I posted the photo of what I see walking to work?  Well, this is what I see on the walk back home.  I know, you don't even have to say it: I suck.  Sorry, everyone!  (Please feel free to cheer yourselves up with the thought of how broke I am living here - sure, it's pretty, but dang, it's a good thing the views are free...)

My Top 10 (so far)

I was looking at my blog stats today, and it's quite interesting to see which posts have been the most popular with you, gentle readers.  And since it also seems that I've had an influx of new readers recently (welcome!), I thought I would let you know what this blog's  Top 10 All-Time Most Popular Posts have been thus far:

10.  No surprise that another compilation made it into the Top 10 - I had so many left-over photos of crappy outfits from 2010 that I needed to do a whole extra post just to share them all:

Totally crap outfits of 2010 (previously unseen)

9.  Ahh, the glamour of living in Paris.  You seemed to enjoy hearing about how moving is just as stressful here as it is anywhere else...

Déménagement

8.  Not much in the way of writing, but some of my prettiest photos ever:
Jour Blanche

7.  Same again - minimal writing in this travel post, but y'all sure seemed to appreciate the photos:
Charming Chartres

6.  One of my sillier moments, but I had fun writing it and it seems you also enjoyed this story of doomed feline romance:

"Tails" of romance from the City of Love

5. Another post about travel - I personally think you only liked it because you're all now hooked on cheese crack:

Why the Belgians are better than the French (Pt 2)

4. Aaaand you're back to the topic of love (although human this time, not feline); coming in at Number Four, my romantic travails in the most romantic (yeah, whatever) city on the planet :

Paris: City of Love. Really?

3.  Seriously, you guys?  This is what you clicked on enough times to put it into third place?  Jeez.  Glad you were all so amused at my hideousness.  Hmph.  And I'll have you know that my eyelashes are, in fact, growing back - I expect to look human again sometime around the end of...erm...June, or thereabouts...
The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

2.  In second place, one of my more educational and well-written (if I do say so myself - it amused me to re-read it, which is always a good sign) posts, featuring the ever-popular Tiny Dancer (previously known as Miss A before I decided I had to give people proper nicknames):
Nature Capitale

1.  And at Number One, this is hands-down, by-a-mile, the most popular blog post I have ever written - I don't know if it's because it features the awesome Mr and Mrs Redneck, or because I took some mighty pretty photos, or because the subject matter (champagne) is interesting to a lot of people, but whatever the appeal is, here it is again:
Reims with the Rednecks

So, having seen what you like (not all of which would have been in my own personal Top 10 of my best work, I have to admit - which goes to show how little I know of popular opinion!), I must conclude that you're totally down with my pretty pictures, but not so much with my yapping.  Hmmm - I am not sure if I should consider that a big "yay!" to my photographic skills and a giant "booo, you suck!" to my writing skills, but I'm hoping it all just averages out over time.  Regardless, thanks for following/subscribing/visiting, and I'll try to keep up with your high standards, gentle-but-demanding readers!  Much love, Miss K

The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

I got an email today from one of my readers - it went like this:

When you say "I'll tell you tomorrow..." on a Thursday and then wait until the following Monday, what are your loyal readers supposed to assume?

A) Four-day hangover?

B) Rugged Irishman?

C) All relevant photos involve you wearing (exposed) green unmentionables?

D) All of the above?

Well, gentle readers, that's an excellent point, and my apologies for the delay.  Sadly, it had nothing to do with A), B) or C), far less D)!  I only wish any of those things had been the reason... 

St Paddy's evening on Thursday was good fun, but Friday night turned out to be a different story.  I  went to a party on a boat on the Seine, which was also good fun, right up until the end.  Unfortunately, when I was about to leave, I attempted a dazzlingly complicated feat of physical coordination: walking up the stairs and putting on my coat at the same time.  Yeah, this might be easy for you, but Miss K is well-known to be the clumsiest person in the world - especially on a moving surface. Even moored, the boat was bobbing up and down in the river, and the wash from a passing bateau-mouche hit our boat just as I was putting my arms in the sleeves of my coat, and that's when I tripped up the stairs.   And how did I break my fall, you ask?  Well, with my face, of course.

More specifically, I broke the fall with my right eye.  Now, Miss K is ever an optimist, and I am extremely grateful to have not broken my teeth or my nose, but not only do I have one hell of a black eye, the impact ripped off most of the lashes on that eye as well - aieee!!!  Never mind the cuts and bruising, never mind that I woke up on Saturday with blood all over my pillowcase and my eye puffed up like a blowfish, never mind that it hurt like the freakin' bejaysus - I don't care about any of that.  What I care about is this: my eye is bald!  I have a bald eyeball!  I'm eye-bald!  Wahhh!!!

And I can prove it - see below for before and after photos of my poor eye...

Before:  Not too shabby, right?  Nice colour, decent lashes, perfectly presentable.

After:  Saturday morning.  Eye-bald!

After:  Today. Still no lashes, just applied a little eyeliner -verrry carefully!  Notice how the bruises are turning neon-green on the left?  Yeah, that's going to be sexy...

Jour Blanche

If you watched the news today, you will have seen the crazy weather in Paris.  Seriously, this was a bizarre day - it started snowing and just didn't stop for hours.  At one point, it was an actual, honest-to-god, proper blizzard - which I know because I was outside, doing the penguin shuffle along the slipperiest surface on the planet (snow on top of wet leaves on top of cobblestones - yikes), and trying not to fall on my arse into the disgusting, mucky slush.  And why was I doing this?  To take photos for you, gentle readers.  Enjoy...

The Louvre is in the background, but good luck seeing it.

The Tuileries looking even more ridiculously pretty than usual.

The Musee d'Orsay is in the background.  Good luck seeing that, too.

In the Tuileries.

The Tuileries - and some very unhappy-looking seagulls. I feel you, boys.

The Tuileries.

The Tuileries.  Dude, I feel your pain.

Although this lady seems to be enjoying the snow.

At the Arc du Carrousel. My "Impressionist" photo.

Arc du Carrousel - the big thing you can almost see in the background is the Louvre.

Arc du Carrousel.

The Louvre - the pointy snowy thing is the pyramid, although it's hard to see.

The Louvre.

Ennui? Oui.

You know that feeling when you come back from vacation and everything seems just a bit....blah?  Okay, I am perfectly aware that I'm not going to get a lot of sympathy, considering that the place I came back to is Paris, but you know what I'm saying, right?  I'm just feeling a bit flat and uninspired, which is why I haven't written this week, but today I am going to shake it off and just make it happen.  I am about to slap on some sunscreen, put on some good walking shoes and go for one of my really long hikes all over the city, which is something I haven't done for quite a while.  Photos will be taken, weird randomness will likely be encountered, a glass of wine might be drunk at a café, and inspiration will occur.  Or so I tell myself.  Tune in tomorrow to see if I get my writing groove back...

A very good day

Friday was one of those days that make me incredibly happy to not be sitting in an office five days a week.   Working part-time is a huge financial strain and I assure you, I am definitely not enjoying this level of poverty, but a day like that kind of makes up for it.

It was one of those days when Paris is so beautiful it breaks your heart.  The sun was shining, the temperature was mild, and even in February, it was a perfect day for a long walk.  So I took a stroll down by the river in front of the Louvre, and does it not just look like six different kinds of fairytale?

Took the Pont Neuf across to the Quai des Grands Augustins and wandered along until I reached Shakespeare & Company, which is a legendary bookshop.  I had never been there, but I decided it was an auspicious day to check it out.  Well, the stories are true, it's a bit magical.  The downstairs section is reasonably normal, but if you go upstairs to the reading rooms?  Be careful.  I went up there with the intention of looking around and coming right back down again, but somehow a deep leather armchair seduced me into sitting down.  And that was it - I pulled the closest book off the shelf (just to have a look at it, mind you) completely at random, and the next thing I knew, three hours had disappeared.  Seriously!  

So, I finally managed to drag myself out of there and continued along the river until I reached the Pont de la Tournelle.  Crossed back over and kept going until I reached rue St Paul, where I found Thanksgiving, a North American grocery shop.  Now, don't get me wrong - I am very much a "live in the culture you're in" kind of gal, and I am more than happy to eat cheese and foie gras and pain au chocolat all day long, but sometimes you just need a fix from home.  It totally blew my food budget for the week, but I am now the proud owner of nearly a litre of salsa and a huge jar of dill pickles (which are my favourite thing on the planet).  Told you it was a wonderful day...

Miss K goes to Hookerville

So yesterday I said that all the Parisiennes are frighteningly chic? Well, today I really saw proof of that. Allow me to explain...

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my friend's house for dinner - she lives not far from the Boulevard St Denis, and when I was walking there, I took a wrong turn and ended up on the rue St Denis instead. I got about 100 yards or so down the street before I noticed that there were an awful lot of...erm...ladies of the "professional" variety, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. So I made the remarkably astute observation that I had ended up on the wrong street and managed to casually mosey off in the right direction without any perverts propositioning me. (Although now that I think of it, why didn't any of the perverts proposition me? I'm a little offended.)

Anyway, moving right along. Pretty much every day when I am not in the office, I go for what I like to call an urban hike. Paris is a relatively small city, so it's very walkable - every day I get out my map and plan a route to visit streets I haven't seen before. But I refuse to carry my map around like some tourist, and I have a short attention span, which means that, inevitably, I will see some interesting-looking street and go wandering off in that direction. All I can say is: thank god my iPhone has GPS and can always tell me where the hell I am - best gadget EVER. And no, Apple is not paying me to say that, it really does rock. (Dear Nice People At Apple: I really do love your products and if you ever feel like sending me some free stuff, that would be awesome. Thanks and big kisses, Miss K)

See, short attention span - I actually meant to say that somehow I ended up back on the rue St Denis again today. But today it was broad daylight and I was actually able to see that there are a lot of funky little stores on that street, so I thought I would take a look. And as I wandered up the street, I could see that the "ladies" were still there (Really? The middle of the day? Is there a roaring trade in that sort of thing at 2pm? Who knew?) and I had a much better look at them this time. And may I just say, for the record, that I have never seen such chic hookers in all my life. Seriously! Not all of them, obviously, but for the most part, they were better-dressed than I was (which truly is a horribly depressing thought and makes me hate my current minimalist wardrobe); there was one lady who was totally rocking a full-length grey fur coat and over-the-knee grey suede boots that I absolutely coveted. Is it wrong that I want the same boots as a Parisienne prostitute? Is it wrong that I don't care if it's wrong?

So, my To Do list for tomorrow:

• go to bank
  
• do some Christmas shopping
• ask a French hooker where she bought her boots
• do ironing
• put away laundry

What? Your list doesn't look like that?