April 2009 Archives

Spring in Paris means blue skies, blindingly bright sunlight, the occasional citron pressé on a sunny terrace at lunchtime, Parisians shedding their black winter coats and venturing into the occasional splash of colour, flowers blooming everywhere.

I take longer to get to work in the morning because I can't resist burying my nose in the cherry blossoms.

I put away my winter shoes and pull out my sandals with glee. My feet are free!

Spring also means that I have to wash my feet as soon as I get home. Sandals are lovely, but the amount of grime you get on your feet as you walk around Paris is staggering.

I like the analogy that Paris as a city is like a crazy old aunt who, for all her oddities, you just can't help but love.

I imagine her getting dressed up for Spring, with flowers and sparkly jewels in her hair, but underneath the pretty sandals, she has grimy feet too.

I have a bit of a cold at the moment.

There's lots of snot involved.

A colleague, hearing me sneeze for the umpteenth time, made a suggestion :
"Il te faut quelque chose pour décongestionner les sinus - style, eau de mer."
(You need something that'll unclog your sinuses - like, sea water.)

The only thing was that he said it really fast, so with my cotton-filled head what I HEARD was the following :
"Il te faut quelque chose pour décongestionner les sinus - stylo de mer."
(You need something that'll unclog your sinuses - sea pen).

Of course, I was all, "c'est quoi, un stylo de mer?" (What's a sea pen?)

Two days later and he's still asking me if the sea pen is working.

The Australian in me craves the sun after such a long winter, and even if I'm surrounded by noise and cars and people, I just need to be outside.

As much as I really do enjoy their company at lunch (and I do try to eat with them two or three times a week), I am trying to find excuses to escape my colleagues so I can lie on a park bench and read in the sun. It's a pity that I have to come up with excuses, but they simply don't understand that I might occasionally want to be by myself (and I must confess that after 5 years of explaining I just can't be bothered trying any more).

So far, I suspect that they think I meet my friends for lunch almost every day (only about half true), and that I go shopping all the time. Sooner or later they're going to get suspicious when they notice that I come back from lunch without any shopping bags. Not to mention that I'm a terrible liar.

I need to come up with some more alternative (and believable) excuses.