Paris s’éveille!

A few hours after we shot a feature on kazillionaire bankers, we were racing to Victoria station to catch the overnight bus to Paris. This was not a pleasant experience – being woken up repeatedly to get on a ferry, get off a ferry, check out of England, check into France, and so on. But it was cheap, and time was scarce, so fuck it.
Once we actually got into Paris, as Saty lit his first vacation-smoke in absolute glee, I looked around and kind of lost my mind a little. Even though it wasn’t our first time there. And, Paris is absolute magic at dawn! The breaking-blue sky mixing in with the amber streetlamp light, the classical architecture set against the art nouveau subways…it’s everything Truffaut and Godard and Melville promised it would be! Cue Jacques Dutronc!
Okay, gaylord-heart-swooning over, thanks for bearing with.
So, then we headed to the 5th to meet Kim (and wake her up, sorry dude!), and yell ‘Happy birthdaaaaaay!!!” Then, we ate the best croissants ever made (the bakery is located opposite Hotel Christophe), drank shots of coffee at the bar like pros, and wandered the glittery streets with our ex-resident friend. We did our best to forget deadlines, fell in love with K’s Parisienne friends, and pretended to be locals. Avec bad accents.
In between drinking six bottles of wine, two bottles of champagne, and can’t-remember-how-many mojitos, we did all manage to get ourselves to the Centre Pompidou and the Palais du Tokyo for some, um, culture. The latter might be my favourite small building yet – very Japonaise, with these strange mailing tubes all over that reminded me of Brazil. And their bookshop is bloody awesome. Other French-ness landed in our laps via the beginnings of a nationwide labour rights protest, the likes of which has gotten pretty rowdy since we left.
P.
P.S. Pics above are of: the skyline as seen from the top of the Centre Pompidou, love locks on a bridge crossing the Seine (‘Veronique’, how French?!), Kim pre-steak (trés jolie, n’est-ce pas?!), examples of, ahem, Parisienne style, and the guts of the Palais du Tokyo.

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