Tales of the Cite
Sarkozy makes an “honest woman”
of Carla Bruni on Saturday 2nd Feb
(I don’t know if they waited until I could make it across)
“Ohh!Ohh! and then I saw the Eiffel Tower and screamed out loud, and then I saw the Seine and shrieked like a little girl, and then I turned to the left and there was the Champs Elysees! And Notre Dame! I cried with joy when I saw the Louvre! And then…” and so on.
You can go to Paris and do that yourself. And I defy you not to react like I did, for it is the most wonderful, jam packed, beautiful city. All you need to know is that I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED Paris. I had a grin permanently plastered on my face all weekend and will go back at the earliest opportunity.
Instead, I want to tell you some of the things I promised in my last post.
J’ suck at le Francais
I was a real languagey person at school, but I did German and Spanish instead of French, just to be difficult. As a result my French is based on stuff gleaned from French movies, the songs of Serge Gainsbourg and the obvious “get-you-by” stuff. I hate not being able to have a stab at getting through the day in the native language. It fills me with horror that I am tarred with the same brush as British people who steadfastly refuse to grant their hosts the courtesy of giving their language a go.So I did try. I managed to order a couple of things, got my Metro 3 day pass with no problems (I promptly got on the wrong train, but let’s gloss over that) and was able to meet and greet in the most perfunctory but sing-song of ways. I wished
I could have been better at it.I can only apologise to France as a whole, right here, for the way I desecrated their mother tongue. But be assured of this Frenchies, I resolve to learn more and return with an accent that would make Charles De Gaulle himself proud.
I love my friends
Not the sort of romantic love you associate with the City of Light, but I do; I love them. The whole Paris trip was an attempt to meet up to celebrate 21 years of friendship.
Despite the fact that the three of us haven’t been together for ten years as a complete party of three, and we all live in different countries, we never had one awkward silence, one cross word or one second when we weren’t having a big old whopper of a time.
Every hour or so one of us would exclaim, ” I can’t believe we managed to get this together”. And in Paris too. It just doesn’t get any better than that. We have resolved to do it on a regular basis.
The patented and inevitable Misssy travel nightmare story
What follows is a catalog of errors involving my trip home which I will outline in verse:Oh Misssy M, why didn’t you,
Remember into which terminal you flew?
And why didn’t you get on the airport bus,
Instead of having one last girlie fuss?
And why didn’t you find out in advance,
That your check in desk was on the other side of France,
To the one that you were on, when the bus driver let you go,
Requiring you to run the length of Charles De Gaulle like Flo-Jo?
Next installment: I try to leave Paris and my etiquette is questioned
The Motorcycle Diaries
It’s day 3 in Koh Lanta and it’s been a day of excitement and danger. Today is the day we rent a tuc tuc for the day. The Lanta tuc tuc doesn’t look like this though
Those are the cosmopolitan tuc tucs. The Thai island tuc tuc makes no pretension to luxury or design, it is the tuc tuc unplugged; it is the tuc tuc stripped bare and visceral. What no-one ever admits to is this- a tuc-tuc is a moped with a bench attached.
The second you make the decision to rent a tuc tuc an alarm goes off in the headquarters of your travel insurance brokers, rendering your policy null and void. But we have made sure that should the worst come to the worst, we have a system already in place. It’s the “A big boy did it and ran away” system. Should we crash and limbs go flying we quickly empty all out of the tuc tuc and say we were merely crossing the road when this guy crashed into us in his tuc tuc. A guy who has now run away. German probably.
Now the last time that we rented a suspect vehicle was John’s and my first holiday together in Corfu. At that point in our relationship, John did not have a drivers licence. In fact John hadn’t even had a driving lesson. I doubt whether at that point John had even sat his cycling proficiency test. He books a moped for three days and is very excited. The insurance broker alarm does not go off as on this particular occasion as we have spent all our money on actually getting to Greece and have decided to use remaining cash on eating and drinking rather than wasting it on travel insurance.
John wakes up super early to collect the bike and I realise that I’m not going to get a look in. I’ll be lucky if he lets me ride pillion.
I’ll keep the rest of the story short as you don’t particularly want me going on about something that happened 15 years ago, since I’m supposed to be writing about Thailand. Here’s the abridged version:
John crashes bike
John doesn’t let go
Force of John’s grip presses accelerator handle
John loses flesh of entire knee on tarmac as he is dragged along
Gill gets to drive the bike for rest of holiday!
But John has redeemed his self. Here he is in action in Thailand!
So we tour Koh Lanta and end up on this beach. It looks nice in the photos but it isn’t- it’s full of rubbish. If the beach doesn’t have a resort attached it seems it doesn’t get cleaned. Real shame. I feel like getting a black bag and going back and cleaning it up. Even though I hate cleaning up.
We stop off at another and it’s worse, but me and John meet our fantasy future selves in the shape of Johnny and Shelley from Tazzie (that’s Tasmania to you and I). I wish I had taken a photo (will do better next time). Johnny and Shelley are around sixty and have sailed from Tazzie to South East Asia. They’ve been everywhere- Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia. They’ve been away for over a year and they don’t really have any intentions of going back anytime soon. These people have sailed into Singapore harbour alongside tankers!!! They are our new personal heroes. I am suddenly looking forward to my retirement (who am I kidding- I have always been looking forward to my retirement). I ask John if I can start calling him Johnny from now on. He says no, he’s holding out for “Jack”.
Anyway, here’s some pics of us drinking and a little recipe for a Mojito, which is my drink du jour. Not very Thai- it’s Brazilian but what’s a continent between firneds?
White rum (as much as you can stand)
Any way here’s some pics of Kaw Kwang resort where we are staying. Oh and the first one includes my new best friend, Melina. Melina has a Thai mum and a German dad and she and Eve have been playing. I have been translating. If anyone told me that I would be speaking German 50% of the time of my Thai hols not only would I be surprised, I would also have not believed it possible. I have a German degree but haven’t spoken German for 15 years. I can still do it- well good enough that a five year old can understand me! See mum and dad, that money you spent sending me to Uni wasn’t a complete waste! In fact I have added to my vocabulary; I now know the phrases for “Hide and Seek” and “Tig and Tag”. Useful.
By the way- love the suggestion from some of my Readers on the Heaven/Helen song titles. The M People one, “One night in Helen” in particular, made us laugh, as it’s a bit rude….Keep them coming.
The Motorcycle Diaries
It’s day 3 in Koh Lanta and it’s been a day of excitement and danger. Today is the day we rent a tuc tuc for the day. The Lanta tuc tuc doesn’t look like this though
Those are the cosmopolitan tuc tucs. The Thai island tuc tuc makes no pretension to luxury or design, it is the tuc tuc unplugged; it is the tuc tuc stripped bare and visceral. What no-one ever admits to is this- a tuc-tuc is a moped with a bench attached.
The second you make the decision to rent a tuc tuc an alarm goes off in the headquarters of your travel insurance brokers, rendering your policy null and void. But we have made sure that should the worst come to the worst, we have a system already in place. It’s the “A big boy did it and ran away” system. Should we crash and limbs go flying we quickly empty all out of the tuc tuc and say we were merely crossing the road when this guy crashed into us in his tuc tuc. A guy who has now run away. German probably.
Now the last time that we rented a suspect vehicle was John’s and my first holiday together in Corfu. At that point in our relationship, John did not have a drivers licence. In fact John hadn’t even had a driving lesson. I doubt whether at that point John had even sat his cycling proficiency test. He books a moped for three days and is very excited. The insurance broker alarm does not go off as on this particular occasion as we have spent all our money on actually getting to Greece and have decided to use remaining cash on eating and drinking rather than wasting it on travel insurance.
John wakes up super early to collect the bike and I realise that I’m not going to get a look in. I’ll be lucky if he lets me ride pillion.
I’ll keep the rest of the story short as you don’t particularly want me going on about something that happened 15 years ago, since I’m supposed to be writing about Thailand. Here’s the abridged version:
John crashes bike
John doesn’t let go
Force of John’s grip presses accelerator handle
John loses flesh of entire knee on tarmac as he is dragged along
Gill gets to drive the bike for rest of holiday!
But John has redeemed his self. Here he is in action in Thailand!
So we tour Koh Lanta and end up on this beach. It looks nice in the photos but it isn’t- it’s full of rubbish. If the beach doesn’t have a resort attached it seems it doesn’t get cleaned. Real shame. I feel like getting a black bag and going back and cleaning it up. Even though I hate cleaning up.
We stop off at another and it’s worse, but me and John meet our fantasy future selves in the shape of Johnny and Shelley from Tazzie (that’s Tasmania to you and I). I wish I had taken a photo (will do better next time). Johnny and Shelley are around sixty and have sailed from Tazzie to South East Asia. They’ve been everywhere- Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia. They’ve been away for over a year and they don’t really have any intentions of going back anytime soon. These people have sailed into Singapore harbour alongside tankers!!! They are our new personal heroes. I am suddenly looking forward to my retirement (who am I kidding- I have always been looking forward to my retirement). I ask John if I can start calling him Johnny from now on. He says no, he’s holding out for “Jack”.
Anyway, here’s some pics of us drinking and a little recipe for a Mojito, which is my drink du jour. Not very Thai- it’s Brazilian but what’s a continent between firneds?
White rum (as much as you can stand)
Any way here’s some pics of Kaw Kwang resort where we are staying. Oh and the first one includes my new best friend, Melina. Melina has a Thai mum and a German dad and she and Eve have been playing. I have been translating. If anyone told me that I would be speaking German 50% of the time of my Thai hols not only would I be surprised, I would also have not believed it possible. I have a German degree but haven’t spoken German for 15 years. I can still do it- well good enough that a five year old can understand me! See mum and dad, that money you spent sending me to Uni wasn’t a complete waste! In fact I have added to my vocabulary; I now know the phrases for “Hide and Seek” and “Tig and Tag”. Useful.
By the way- love the suggestion from some of my Readers on the Heaven/Helen song titles. The M People one, “One night in Helen” in particular, made us laugh, as it’s a bit rude….Keep them coming.
Indiana Martinez and the Palace of Bling
Hello,we’re in Thailand! In Bangkok to be precise and I don’t know where to begin. It’s just absolutely high octane craziness. It’s about 35 degrees Celsius and humid as you like. Humidity is God’s cruel joke on the curly haired. I am like a 1970′s Blaxploitation film heroine. It can only be tamed by putting it all in a pleat whilst still wet. Anyway, enough of my hair, it’s taken up too much blogosphere already, as well as now having its own Thai postcode.
There are apparently three camps of people: those who love Bangkok, those who hate Bangkok and those who have no choice but to live there. I can’t say I love it, to be honest, and I don’t hate it either but I’m glad I don’t have to live here.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. We arrived what is officially yesterday (Sunday) but it feels like a weird time vortex ago. Jet lag is a weird thing; you’re so tired you can’t even string a whole sentence together but you can’t sleep. The received wisdom is to go with the flow- don’t go to bed until local bed time, wake up and function during a normal daytime. So we decided to veture out and about even though we had just spent 12 hours in two planes and two cigarette smoke filled hours at Dubai Airport. We showered and then went out to see Bangkok and rode the Skytrain (think Simpson’s Springfield monorail) all by ourselves! With tickets and not getting off at the wrong stop and apparent ease. How pleased with ourselves were we? The we hit the Siam shopping mall where hopes of bargain laid eastern cheapness were quickly dashed as we viewed an array of Louis Vuitton, Guess, Mulberry, Kenzo, Versace and the rest. All at standard western prices. So we ate dinner in Bangkok’s equivalent of the Bon Accord Food Hall with the great and good of Bangkok. So much for shopping til we dropped. We bought nowt. Then we headed back to our hotel, The Reflections Rooms. Check our room out:
The hotel wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste but we like it. It’s kitsch paradise. A little tatty but good fun and the people are lovely. Our room is called “The Flower of my Secret”. Every room is different and is decorated by a local artist.
This is the outside of the hotel:
Anyway, the jet lag thing works, it’s Monday and we all feel normal again after a weird night of us all waking up at about 3am and feeling ready for breakfast. The kids are fine when not being blasted by the midday sun. It is absolutely boiling here and the sun is to be avoided when you don’t have a swimming pool handy. Eve has had her face pinched so much by pretty much every adult she passes that we are having to administer cold compresses to her swollen cheeks. We went into a shop today and five or six young girl shop assistants took it in turns to get their picture taken with her. John was disappointed when they turned the offer of a photo with him down.
Now you may have been wondering what on earth my title means. Well it is in reference to my first born, King Louis, now rechristened “Indiana” or “Indy” for short. Today we did what every visitor to Bangkok has to do, and that’s visit the Grand Palace.
Talk about the “King and I”, this is “The Bling and I”. It’s a bejewelled golden labyrinth of temples, palaces and museums and it’s apparently the most holy of holy places in Thailand, housing the Emerald Buddha, which has healing properties. It was super-scorchio but we meandered round in the almost unbearable heat marvelling at the shineyness. At this point I want to quote you a paragraph from the Lonely Planet Guide to Thailand, apropos of something….
” Upon leaving Thailand you must declare any items to customs which could be viewed as antiques or items of religious or archeological importance. The Thai government are very strict about such items being taken out of the country and view failure to declare very seriously indeed…..”
So let’s jump an hour ahead to the Flying Martinis sat in a wonderful air conditioned restaurant in front of plates of amazing food that we had little clue of what any of it was. John takes Eve to the bathroom (Eve HAS to go to the toilet in every place we go to- she’s a toilet tourist) and Louis let’s Mum in on a secret.,
“Mum, look,” He pulls something gold and bejewelled out of his pocket, instantly recognisable as a piece of the wall of the Grand Palace. Literally Holy crap!
“It was already fallen off.,” he explains in answer to my dumbstruck face. Yes, my son has half inched a religious relic, he has purloined part of the Buddhist furniture, he has defiled a wonder of the world. What do we do now? My answer is straightforward, “Right, it’s done now, we’ll just hide it in the luggage.” I’m thinking Show and Tell will be amazing. If this doesn’t get that boy on the Golden Wall in Newmachar Primary, what will?
Those who know John will be unsurprised by his reaction. John is a former RE teacher, admirer of the Buddhist faith, and the most annoyingly moral and honest person I have ever met. “We have to take it back”, he says firmly. More at me than Louis.
By this point we are miles away from the palace and it is 35 degrees outside. “But it was lying on the ground” I say, turning into something akin to the Kray Twins’ mum. “Are we just going to lob it over the wall?” (we cannot re-enter without buying new tickets. I am not only dishonest but cheap.)
“OK, we’ll have to get rid of it, it belongs in Thailand and I don’t want to find out what a Thai jail is like”.says John.
Fair point….discussion over. Later that afternoon we go on a boat ride (getting ripped off in the process) and then go to Hell’s Kitchen itself, Chinatown, where apparently bargains are to be had….more of which in next blog. So we’re pretty busy. Later back at the hotel, I ask, “Oh, what are we going to do about Indy’s religious booty, I mean it doesn’t belong in a Western Museum or in a wooden box in a vault beside the Ark and the Grail…”
“I chucked it in a bush,” says Indy.
Indiana Martinez and the Palace of Bling
Hello,we’re in Thailand!
In Bangkok to be precise and I don’t know where to begin. It’s just absolutely high octane craziness. It’s about 35 degrees Celsius and humid as you like.
Humidity is God’s cruel joke on the curly haired. I am like a 1970′s Blaxploitation film heroine. It can only be tamed by putting it all in a pleat whilst still wet. Anyway, enough of my hair, it’s taken up too much blogosphere already, as well as now having its own Thai postcode.
There are apparently three camps of people: those who love Bangkok, those who hate Bangkok and those who have no choice but to live there. I can’t say I love it, to be honest, and I don’t hate it either but I’m glad I don’t have to live here.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. We arrived what is officially yesterday (Sunday) but it feels like a weird time vortex ago. Jet lag is a weird thing; you’re so tired you can’t even string a whole sentence together but you can’t sleep. The received wisdom is to go with the flow- don’t go to bed until local bed time, wake up and function during a normal daytime. So we decided to venture out and about even though we had just spent 12 hours in two planes and two cigarette smoke filled hours at Dubai Airport.
We showered and then went out to see Bangkok and rode the Skytrain (think Simpson’s Springfield monorail) all by ourselves! With tickets and not getting off at the wrong stop and apparent ease. How pleased with ourselves were we?
Then we hit the Siam shopping mall where hopes of bargain laid eastern cheapness were quickly dashed as we viewed an array of Louis Vuitton, Guess, Mulberry, Kenzo, Versace and the rest. All at standard western prices. So we ate dinner in Bangkok’s equivalent of the Bon Accord Food Hall with the great and good of Bangkok. So much for shopping til we dropped. We bought nowt. Then we headed back to our hotel, The Reflections Rooms. Check our room out:
The hotel wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste but we like it. It’s kitsch paradise. A little tatty but good fun and the people are lovely. Our room is called “The Flower of my Secret”. Every room is different and is decorated by a local artist.
This is the outside of the hotel:
Anyway, the jet lag thing works, it’s Monday and we all feel normal again after a weird night of us all waking up at about 3am and feeling ready for breakfast.
The kids are fine when not being blasted by the midday sun. It is absolutely boiling here and the sun is to be avoided when you don’t have a swimming pool handy. Eve has had her face pinched so much by pretty much every adult she passes that we are having to administer cold compresses to her swollen cheeks. We went into a shop today and five or six young girl shop assistants took it in turns to get their picture taken with her. John was disappointed when they turned the offer of a photo with him down.
Now you may have been wondering what on earth my title means. Well it is in reference to my first born, King Louis, now rechristened “Indiana” or “Indy” for short. Today we did what every visitor to Bangkok has to do, and that’s visit the Grand Palace.
Talk about the “King and I”, this is “The Bling and I”. It’s a bejeweled golden labyrinth of temples, palaces and museums and it’s apparently the most holy of holy places in Thailand, housing the Emerald Buddha, which has healing properties. It was super-scorchio but we meandered round in the almost unbearable heat marveling at the shineyness. At this point I want to quote you a paragraph from the Lonely Planet Guide to Thailand, apropos of something….
” Upon leaving Thailand you must declare any items to customs which could be viewed as antiques or items of religious or archeological importance. The Thai government are very strict about such items being taken out of the country and view failure to declare very seriously indeed…..”
So let’s jump an hour ahead to the Flying Martinis sat in a wonderful air conditioned restaurant in front of plates of amazing food that we had little clue of what any of it was. John takes Eve to the bathroom (Eve HAS to go to the toilet in every place we go to- she’s a toilet tourist) and Louis let’s Mum in on a secret.,
“Mum, look,” He pulls something gold and bejewelled out of his pocket, instantly recognisable as a piece of the wall of the Grand Palace. Literally Holy crap!
“It was already fallen off,” he explains in answer to my dumbstruck face. Yes, my son has half inched a religious relic, he has purloined part of the Buddhist furniture, he has defiled a wonder of the world. What do we do now? My answer is straightforward, “Right, it’s done now, we’ll just hide it in the luggage.” I’m thinking Show and Tell will be amazing. If this doesn’t get that boy on the Golden Wall in Newmachar Primary, what will?
Those who know John will be unsurprised by his reaction. John is a former RE teacher, admirer of the Buddhist faith, and the most annoyingly moral and honest person I have ever met. “We have to take it back”, he says firmly. More at me than Louis.
By this point we are miles away from the palace and it is 35 degrees outside. “But it was lying on the ground” I say, turning into something akin to the Kray Twins’ mum. “Are we just going to lob it over the wall?” (we cannot re-enter without buying new tickets. I am not only dishonest but cheap.)
“OK, we’ll have to get rid of it, it belongs in Thailand and I don’t want to find out what a Thai jail is like,”says John.
Fair point….discussion over.
Later that afternoon we go on a boat ride (getting ripped off in the process) and then go to Hell’s Kitchen itself, Chinatown, where apparently bargains are to be had….more of which in next blog. So we’re pretty busy. Later back at the hotel, I ask, “Oh, what are we going to do about Indy’s religious booty, I mean it doesn’t belong in a Western Museum or in a wooden box in a vault beside the Ark and the Grail…”
“I chucked it in a bush,” says Indy.
