MONTMARTRE, MY LOVE

With the teeny tiny four year old resting on me while I read her book after book after book last night, I realised I hadn’t shared my recent musings, more of my story. So here goes, some writing from Sunday (about Friday)…

I am sat in the garden of Eugene Delacroix, it’s the second time this week that I have found a superbly quiet spot to simply sit surrounded by nature. In my eye line I see the grand window of his studio opening on to this petit jardin, giving enough space amid the looming surrounding structures to allow the light to flood in. This feels like a good spot to write about a sweet day in Montmartre on Friday… 

Upon the realisation of a three day weekend my gut instinct was to visit Montmartre, so of course that’s what I did. Meandering from the 1ere to the 9eme, Musee de la Vie Romantique was my destination, a house where the dutch painter Ary Scheffer settled, welcoming the likes of Delacroix, Dickens and George Sand to this beautiful home built in “l’époque de la Restauration.” Anyway, enough of the history lesson… Set back off rue Chaptal, I turned back on myself suddenly realising I had missed the discreet gateway, quite distracted by every single building. 

This is somewhere to go to escape Paris, in Paris. Walking up the driveway shadowed with greenery, even having seen photos, I wasn’t quite expecting it to be quite so beautiful, but then again I’m a sucker for pistachio green windows and shutters. I gazed at Delacroix drawings, vibrant botanical watercolours, and appreciated the intricate design details down to the tiny discreet light switches. I am certain this is somewhere I will visit time and time again, as a place to feel inspired.

From the museum, my head lead me up the hill (my legs aching, but going) towards Le Moulin Rouge, finding a bite to eat and a quiet square on route. Then onwards, round, up and down I went, meandering through the intricate streets and passages. Passing musicians, artists, street performs and of course the hoards of tourists for as long as my feet could take it, wandering past the Bateau-Lavoir, Clos Montmartre and taking a moment or two in a twee cafe before meeting a friend. Spontaneous coffee and dinner at hers was exactly what I needed and as cliché as it sounds, we popped Edith Piaf on the record player, chattered away and delighted in saying ‘chin chin’ with cheap and thankfully not sweet rosé. Chit chat carried on until late until we all felt weary and it was time to take the metro, a giddy skip in my step.

The spontaneity I am permitted in Paris is wonderful, it’s not always welcome when you feel like you have to do something because you know, you’re in Paris, particularly so when wary feet are screaming don’t take another step! It is such a gift to meander through the streets as Hemingway did (sorry, another cliché!), take in the sights and allow yourself to be absorbed by your surroundings. I am not entirely sure where the past two whole weeks have gone but gone they sure have and it's a welcome reminder how quickly a year may pass and how much there is to do, see and feel in this place. With no idea if I will stay or move on I plan on making the most of days to come as I did last Friday. Cities are not easy places though, a couple of days have passed napping, reading and sketching and those too were days well spent but not particularly days to document, unless you want to know the inner workings of my mind (which, I am certain you don't).

Anyway... À bientôt my loves.