paris

I guess I promised much more than I've delivered to date, however, I can probably make up for it a bit with a quick-ish (or as autocorrect suggests, a quackish) rundown of the last five days. Brief because not much has happened, despite the immense distances covered, and in my memory most of what has taken place has been the general faffing around required when one is on the road and particularly when one is in that slight kind of parallel universe of a country superficially similar in so many ways to one's own. 

Paris had its moments however I was sick all the time I was there with what I suppose could be described without any real diagnosis as food poisoning. So in essence the first couple of days of the trip were that kind of bullshit and who needs it. No point in trying to figure out what caused that but one odd aspect of it was developing a very itchy patch on the side of my right foot, a kind of phenomenon I associate with an allergy I had when I was 16 or 17 which was caused by ingesting something, who knows what, I never found out. That case was much worse, and after days of scratching with a wire brush (ok, TMI) I was recommended car sickness pills which did the trick entirely. 

Well everyone does it so I'll just say it, I threw up a few times in public places in Paris, it happened. This reflective picture was one I took just after the first incident, as I lay on the grass near the Seine not far from the Eiffel Tower actually and looked up through the trees. I was considering of course my place in the universe and what I had done to the universe to make it want to see me suffer. Answer came there none. 

Forget about the vomiting ok. Here is an amazing dog I saw that looks like a beagle who escaped from a photoshop experiment not gone as wonderfully right as it might have. Very sweet. 

This is not so much a photograph, well, it is but not of real creatures but actually black cow people with hands. Did you need that explanation? Unlikely.

Superflous:

The one activity - there could have been so many, but that illness was a shit travelling companion - was a visit to the Paris sewer museum. Two issues: (1) I felt terrible (2) the actual tour was in French, a language I can only pretend to have any competency in if I am talking with someone who did not know it was ever a language. Still very interesting and recommended.

 Canal Saint Martin, happy memories.

Took me ages to remember why I photographed this building, even wondered if it had been a mistake. Then realised the frieze on the side was so familiar - it looks like one in Hobart but I can't remember where (just spent some time on street view trying to spot it but jeez, who even cares).

 There was time for a selfie, but if I'm looking a little wan I guess it's all that throwing up

Anyway effectively I was very sick on Saturday and Sunday, and then left France on Sunday to go to Cologne (a brief stopover) then the overnight train to Warsaw, which was I have to say pretty sensationally nice. Apparently the train is going to be discontinued in a few months which is a huge shame as it's so well worth doing.

More shortly I want you to fully savour my French experience before I move on to more funtimes or, as autocorrect might more correctly (naturally) have it, fantoms. 

just about to go

I am writing to you from that dumpling house in Clifton Hole (well, technically in North Fitzroy because it’s on the north side of Queens Parade). I had a hankering for dumplings and thought I’d just go for fuckin’ broke but I already made a faux pas I hope I remember never to make again, of ordering way too many dumplings (15!) as a single serve alongside vegetable noodles. Oh well. Everything at the moment seems like practice for making a mess somewhere else and this is pretty minor in the scheme of things. I’m getting some to take away. What on earth will I do with them, who knows. I know – I’ll take them on the plane with me.

Today was one of those fraught days of doing dumb things I had to do like getting travel insurance etc etc boring. I have barely slept (three hours; I did a graveyard on RRR last night and only slept from about 6:30 to 9:30 this morning, which was annoying but I can’t be surprised). I also hope that I might be able to not sleep tonight, so I can sleep comprehensively on the plane tomorrow, and not have to read all those fucking detective novels I have stored up to deflect boredom and then cast off ASAP.

I was hungry, having barely eaten today (two piece of toast and a smoothie, unless I ate a massive thing I’ve forgotten about) but now, in the warmth of this establishment and the irritating nature of the people who are here with me, I am not that hungry any longer. I will just have to cope with irritating people and overwarmed establishments I guess and so it’s all good training.

I am stunningly unimpressed by this trip and all I really want to do is write, and I don’t really care that much where I do it. I know how that sounds -

cleaning out under the house at Lorraine yesterday

back back back?

I don't know, I miss blogging and of course things have got a bit (can't remember the word - my grandmother Mavis used to say this thing about 'I can see the word, but I can't read it - she equated it with getting old but I bet she was like me, or the other way around, if something has to come first to be like something else, which it probably doesn't, anyway, I bet I am like her, I have always had this problem). It's a word like humdrum, and I'm thinking 'mediocre', 'mundane', but neither of those actually suit. It's another word. It will come to me.

Things have got a bit... around here. I was thinking of changing the name of the blog to either Lorrain't Crescent or Lorraine Crescen't. Probably the second because I'd never normally say 'ain't' about anything, anytime.

I am going to revive my work here however as I am about to set off on a European jaunt in a few days and I want to record it all for your benefit and also I suppose mine. Leaving early on Friday, keep Australia beautiful for me while I'm away please.