Tag Archives: Paris
I would not be unduly surprised, if I discovered, on some future trip to Paris, that the legendary Café de Flore had been frozen in aspic, to preserve it for eternity, and declared a national monument by the French government. It is after all one of the grandes dames of Parisian cafés which opened its doors to the coffee imbibing public way back in 1887. And, of course, it’s a place where the rooms echo with the ghostly voices of some of the literary and philosophical greats (including Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Ernest Hemingway …) who ate, drank, and wrote there in earlier epochs.
Towards the end of February I went on a short trip to Paris. A very short trip. Just, in fact, for the day. It’s perfectly doable from Dublin as the flight time is just over one hour thirty; plus there is an early flight which leaves Dublin at around seven am and one that takes off from Charles De Gaulle airport after nine pm, so even taking into account the loss of an hour, this allows for a goodly amount of time in Paris without it costing an unruly amount of cash (ie: the cost of an overnight stay).
I was in Paris for a few days towards the end of November. The night before I went, as per, I waged a duel between the desire to sleep and the worry that if I did, I might not hear my alarm pinging, in the small hours, and as a result miss my flight. While I was tossing and turning I was running through a mental list of things to do and places to see when I got to Paris: wondering which museum to visit and musing over the more mundane question of where to have breakfast.
In a hierarchy of compliments that I would like to receive, being told I looked French would be close to the top. Naturally I am not picky; I am truly grateful for any compliment I get. Unsurprisingly I am
seldom never told that I look French. I could cling to the deluded belief that this is due to my pale Celtic colouring but in truth it has more do with the fact that I lack the myriad of attributes that looking French implies; I am not super slim, über chic or drenched in enigmatic mystique.
I have enrolled in a digital photography evening class which starts this coming Tuesday. Now what you may well ask has that to do with Les Deux Abeilles a rather charming café in Paris’s seventh arrrondisment. Well here’s the rather tenuous connection; this weekend in advance of my first photography class I was scrolling through the thousands of images I have taken since I started blogging last year. Among the images were some photos of Les Deux Abeilles, which I took when I was in Paris last November. I had planned to write a post on the café when I returned home but it somehow slipped my mind. Still it’s often better late than never so here we go.
Iconic is an overused word, however when it comes to talking about the Repetto brand it seems an apt adjective. I am a diehard fan of ballet flats. I have a couple of pairs of heels which are only wheeled into service when I know I will be mostly seated while I am wearing them. For everyday life, flats are my footwear of choice: they are perfect for comfortable and unrestricted tripping about without the attendant danger of sore feet. Over the years I have had so many pairs from different labels but never, until my recent trip to Paris, a pair of Repettos.
I love shops in a bonkers allsorts fashion. By that I mean I am as happy to wander around furniture or haberdashery emporiums as I am to gaze at the latest fashions in a boutique or department store. This love of shops doesn’t equate to a love of spending (though naturally I do from time to time).
The Café Constant is on my list of favourite Parisian cafes. It’s not that I have visited all the thousands of cafes in the City of Light to compile a definitive list of my top ten: rather the Café Constant became a favourite by default as it’s close to where I normally stay when I visit Paris. It’s good, so if I hadn’t discovered it by virtue of its proximity I am sure I would have truffled it out with the aid of one of my trusty guidebooks.