So, we continue on from my first blog, and onwards from the Pantheon to the Conciergerie we go. You may remember this building from the Paris Olympic opening ceremony, where the French metal band Gojira, a lot of fire, and very many headless Marie Antoinette’s totally rocked out. This is a building that’s again been on my bucket list for some time, former Court and Prison, where many revolutionaries will have had their fates sealed before a last walk to Madam Guillotine. Most notably though (well for me at least), the building houses the former cell of one Marie Antoinette, while awaiting trial and execution. I am, not a fan, that’s the wrong word to use, but I am fascinated by her, and I still feel she was much maligned. Married off at just 14 years old, how much of the what went on outside palace gates did she ever truly see and comprehend?. One hill I am prepared to die on though, is that she had exquisite taste. If you visit her apartments in Versailles, every soft furnishing, the view from her bedroom window, her kitchen, the grounds at Trianon. Just glorious. I can’t help wondering if we’d view her as less of a pariah these days, because feminism and all that, but sadly, I doubt it.

Anyhow, we joined the pretty small queue for entry with our timed tickets, and I bitterly regretted not realising just how close the church of Saint Chapelle is. I do my research before a trip, always! but somehow I completely missed this. I didn’t think we’d have time to do it because we had a lunch reservation, so I didn’t pre book tickets, and the line was snaking right down the street, so not a chance of a sneaky peek. Reserved this on my mental list of what to do on my next visit.

The Conciergerie is an impressive space, and beautifully illuminated too. You’re given tablets that you can use to scan at various points and when you hold up the tablet it’ll show how the building was used in a certain era as you pan it around. Very cool. It may have one of my favourite gift shops of our trip, but of course I liberally spritzed myself with one of the scents, I can’t remember if it was Madame Pompadour or Marie Antoinette’s but Jesus Christ, it would have stunned a moose. It’s not that it was unpleasant, it was just cloying and strong. You couldn’t just smell it, you could taste it, and it was with me for the next 24 hours.

As you continue, you go through the corridors of prison cells, and finally end up in what was Marie Antoinette’s cell, which is now a chapel dedicated in her honour. It’s quite moving actually, to think you’re walking the floors, and looking through the barred windows onto the courtyard view, like she did.

There is a small exhibition in the same space and it has a few extraordinary things. Her chair, books, the cap she wore, a beautiful water jug, and my favourite thing so far this trip, her beautifully framed knitting needles. Makes her more human somehow, imagining her sitting in her cell, knitting, trying not to think about what was to come.

Highly enjoyable hour, hour and a half maybe. You could have bloody well done Saint Chapelle you idiot!

We continue on, past the oldest clock in Paris, for a leisurely stroll along the Seine towards the general area of the restaurant I’d picked out for lunch.

There was a beautiful little shop I wanted to check out, Melodies Graphiques, which sold the most exquisite note books, paper, sealing wax and stamps, and these little 3d pop up dioramas of Paris and beyond. Little animated jointed paper puppets to put on your wall of my favourite Alice in Wonderland illustrations, but sooooo expensive. A lovely diversion, but nothing purchased.

A little further along was another gorgeous shop, this one Japanese, and filled to the bring with the most stunning kimonos. Jen bought one, I was thoroughly tempted, but I don’t feel I can waft around the garden in one with my coffee of a morning, and I haven’t anywhere to wear it as a top, living my semi-feral existence as I do. Couldn’t bring myself to leave such a beautiful thing in the back of the wardrobe. So on we went.

Lunch was at a lovely little quintessentially French Bistro called Chez Mademoiselle, (16 Rue Charlemagne in the 4th Arrondissement if you’re interested), and it was delightful. Just off the main thoroughfare, it was a little oasis of calm, not too busy, with enough to give it an atmosphere. Would definitely recommend.

After lunch, we headed off to Places Des Vosges to visit Maison Victor Hugo. I confess to not having read the books in their purest form, but Les Miserables remains probably my favourite musical, and if you enjoy that, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and also Phantom of the Opera, which he didn’t actually write but heavily influenced Gaston Leroux’s novel, well, it was a bit of a pilgrimage. I’m going out on a limb here, the man also had pretty epic taste in interior design as well. Some of the rooms are jaw dropping. I probably have too much of a vivid imagination (I think you need that to fully appreciate history), but I was peering out from behind a heavy damask curtain, on to the Places Des Vosges below and I could see the horses and carriages, and top hats and parasols of people going about their day. I could see him sitting at his desk, writing in the corner.

I enjoyed it thoroughly, and a free attraction to visit, which is somewhat of a scarcity in Paris. It also has an excellent little hidden courtyard cafe, where you can sit under the trees and enjoy some patisserie and a glass of champagne for about 20 euros, which, by Parisian standards again, is practically a steal. I know, you need to adjust your financial expectations, and I feel extremely privileged to be here enjoying this place. We definitely said F it, it’s Paris, on many an occasion on this trip.

We then (and this is dangerous to do after an alcoholic beverage) strolled the covered pavements of Places des Vosges, with their chic little shops and pavement cafes. This would be a great place for lunch, overlooking the wrought iron railing enclosed park in the centre. It was an unseasonably hot weekend for May, and the park was full of picnics and people enjoying the weather. I liked it a lot. I liked it so much in fact, that in the spirit of ‘F it, it’s Paris”, I sauntered into the handbag shop of the gods, Maison Pourchet, and only bloody bought one. I didn’t go entirely insane, it was 80 euros, but having your bag popped in a cotton drawstring bag, then into one of those slightly swanky cardboard bags with a cord handle, well, loved it. Can honestly say, it’s the best handbag I’ve ever owned, and now I require one in every colour. It’s called a Cassetta if you’re interested. Literally obsessed.

We wandered some more, did a little more shopping, and then back to the hotel, because it was the main event tonight, The Moulin Rouge.

On our quest to find somewhere open early enough to eat near our hotel, we stumbled upon a little Breton creperie, where we were the only patrons. I don’t remember exactly what I ordered but I think it was kind of like tartiflette in crepe form, and it was just what I needed when I didn’t really know what I wanted (if that makes any sense). It was wolfed so fast that there are no pictures, but we were also served the traditional accompaniment of cider, in a jug, drunk out of tea cups. As someone that has long protested that she didn’t like cider, I feel recently I have been proven very very wrong. Maybe I’m in my cider era now, as the youth would say?

The Moulin Rouge, some questionable life choices (even though I’d totally repeat them), led to a night out for the ages, the worst hangover in christendom, and it very much deserves its own post. So this will follow…. again, once I’ve written it all down. The names may be changed to protect the innocent.

TTFN.

V x

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