Poetry Exercise No. 16 : Triolet

Back to the poetry writing, after a very long rest period.

A cousin of the Rondeau, i.e. characterised by repeating lines/rhymes. Eight lines in total, with the first and second lines repeated in the seventh and eighth lines, and the first line echoed in the fourth line. Rhyme scheme - ABaAbbAB. So here is my triolet, on Casey:

I love my little Casey cat
I wish she loved me just a bit
Her pretty head I gently pat
I love my little Casey cat
But in return she throws a fit
At my touch she will snarl and spit
I love my little Casey cat
I wish she loved me just a bit

Paws for the Cause

I feel truly honoured- got a flickr mail requesting for the use of my photo on icanhascheezburger.com. Purpose was to help publicise and raise awareness on the issue of homeless animals. I'm glad to be a part of this effort. Here's the LOL which was created from the photo of a sweet little anonymous kitten which I spotted in the cage outside Mt Pleasant clinic on East Coast Road. I don't know whether the kitten was eventually adopted but with sweet eyes like that, I would definitely be a fan.


moar funny pictures

If you want to do something for the community cats of Singapore, check out the Pawpledge and CWS links in the left column - make a contribution, volunteer, help care for a cat in your neighbourhood, starting this Friday, 12/12, or according to the lady who contacted me, "the twelfth of never - for too many pets, that is the sad truth."

More Jane

Further to my earlier post, Wannabe Jane, I have read all of 3 more Jane paralit books. For a change, one was a Persuasion rather than Pride & Prejudice knock-off!

Captain Wentworth's Diary is another effort by Amanda Grange to dig deep into the innermost thoughts and feelings of Jane Austen's heroes. It is pleasant and a nice enough read. Grange spends some time and effort on how Anne and Captain Wentworth first met and fell in love, and how their engagement was broken. The next section then goes into how he returned to England, to stay with his sister Mrs Croft and then meets Anne again. My main problem with the book is that there are no surprises, whether in the plot or in how the characters are developed. Grange could, for example, have spent more time on the relationship between Wentworth and his brother, or between Wentworth, Harville and Benwick, to bring out the cammeraderie and solidarity amongst the naval officers as a powerful sub-theme of the book. Alas for an opportunity missed.

I also finished reading The Way of the World (subsequently published as Mr Darcy's Daughters) and The Exploits and Adventures of Miss Alethea Darcy, both by Elizabeth Aston. I started off enjoying Elizabeth Aston's books and it is perhaps fortunate that I started off with The True Darcy Spirit for if I had started off with The Way of the World I may not have picked up another book! Granted, one should not import expectations and views about the various characters in Pride & Prejudice into the reading of these Jane knock-offs, and they should probably be treated as totally separate books, but it is very hard to picture Darcy and Elizabeth trotting off to Constantinople just when their daughters go off to London for the first time! Darcy, the careful brother who took such great care of Georgiana? Elizabeth, who was so worried about the possible impact of her frivolous sister's trip to Brighton? It is just not consistent with what we know about these characters. For an author who is trading on Jane fans' love of her work and characters to get people to read/buy her work, I'd have liked to see greater efforts to be true to the characters. And this holds true even if the Darcys do not actually make an appearance in the books! Way of the World also suffers from too many undeveloped characters and plotlines; probably just too ambitious an undertaking in the first instance. As for Miss Alethea's exploits and adventures, they certainly take place at a breathless pace, so much so that one is a little tired of them by the time the book ends. Fortunately, Aston has developed as an author since these earlier efforts; I vastly prefer her subsequent books such as The True Darcy Spirit.

Thanks to my efforts, my mother has started reading these Jane paralit books too, the first being Capt Wentworth's Diary. I asked her how it was and she expressed some disappointment. Well, what does one expect? Just because it is Jane Austen paraliterature does not mean that it is anywhere near Jane's standards! One does not exactly expect these books to be in print 200 years into the future. But they are entertaining reads in themselves, well worth picking up to fill an idle hour.

Goodbye Hwei Yen

Singapore has been hit by terrorism in a totally unexpected way. Lo Hwei Yen, a 28-year old lawyer, was in Mumbai on business when the terrorists invaded the Trident-Oberoi hotel where she was staying. She was captured by the terrorists and shot in the head.

I look at the pictures of a warm, friendly girl and find it so shocking to think of how terrifying her last hours were. It was a fate she did not deserve, and neither did any of the other people who died at the hands of the terrorists.

I look at her photos and think that this could be anyone's daughter, anyone's sister, anyone's colleague, anyone's friend. And maybe that's why everyone in Singapore feel it so much. Singapore is such a small country. Her husband's family go to the same church I do, they went to the same schools as my family members did. We mourn for her because she is our daughter, sister, colleague and friend.

Rest in peace Hwei Yen.

What a difference a year makes

One year ago, I got home from my office retreat to find a small, orange kitten had joined the family. Yes, it has been one year since Orlando first made his way up our front driveway, past our front door and into our home, where he has remained ever since. My attempts to get him adopted were thwarted by my mother who refused to let him go.

So we kept Orlando. We fed him his 3 meals a day and he got to sleep in comfortable baskets or on the sofa rather than on the streets.

Today, the small, feeble little kitten with the distended stomach and furless belly has become a handsome boy with gorgeous orange fur. The haunted look in his eyes has gone, and he no longer eats as though every meal is his last. He is a sturdy cat, bigger than his two "uncles" and has started displaying alpha-male tendencies, chasing them and bullying them. He can be a little imperious and demanding, raising his little voice whenever he wants his food or a door opened for him.

But he retains still many cute little tricks from his kittenhood, like rushing up the stairs with you, to stop on the step just in front of you and hold his head up for a pat. He has a signature "flop" - which starts with rubbing his head on your foot, followed by a sideways forward roll his body and ending up with his body resting on both your feet. Is that cute or what.

So for all those people who are wondering whether they can cope with adopting one more stray cat - wonder no more. This is one good deed which really carries its own reward.

Singapore Biennale

The Singapore Biennale was first held in 2006. I was in the US at the time and so could not check it out. This time round, I decided to make the effort to visit the Biennale. So I took half-day leave and went to two of the venues - City Hall and the South Bank Development, taking in one exhibit at Raffles City en route.

I rather enjoyed the City Hall exhibits. My favourite - the great Google map of Singapore which covered the floor of the City Hall Chamber. It did not seem to be very exciting or innovative in the first instance but I was surprised at my own reaction to it. I felt really compelled to find my home and workplace and to stick a little label on the map. Unfortunately someone stuck a label on top of my house (they shd hv given out smaller labels). So it was a little frustrating. But what was also quite compelling was to watch other people's reactions/response to the map. Some just walked in and out. Others spent a long time pouring over the map, locating the buildings they knew. (I took a little video, available here - unfortunately the timing wasn't too good so there were not many people in the room.) A few other exhibits can be seen on my flickr site. There were a number of videos in the exhibition which sort of inspired me to take a few videos too. For many of the installation art pieces in the exhibition, it is important to walk around the exhibit and take it in from various angles. So the videos were trying to imitate the human eye's experience looking at the artwork. Does that sound like an attempt at art too, or just a little bit pretentious...

I rather liked the South Bank Development building. This was where the former Singapore Volunteer Corps was headquartered. It is a large, sprawling site with a few buildings on it, built in art deco style. My colleague had tied up with a friend of his, who is a volunteer guide, to give a little tour of the building so I met him and the little group he had gathered, to go through the exhibits.

It was good that we had a guide, as I didn't feel that the exhibits were as compelling and interesting as those in City Hall and so it was useful to have someone to raise points of interest, and engage the group in discussion. Of course, it was the notorious sugar sculpture Sweet September that everyone had to see. But the symbolism of the piece had been brought up so many times in the press that by the time I saw it, it had lost a little of its interest and novelty for me. Not to mention that it had decomposed considerably and was a little smelly downwind. I rather preferred instead some of the other exhibits - the charcoaled rooms, with black & white videos of the elements of the old South Bank building (creating a certain sense of nostalgia for days gone by), and the series of gorgeous photos of a man who wished for the moon, found it and didn't know what to do with it.

Ah yes - a profitable afternoon/evening.

Wannabe Jane

Over the past few months, I have been reading Jane Austen paraliterature. i.e. books inspired by the writings of Jane Austen, in particular, "Pride and Prejudice". How did this start? Of course, it is my mother's fault. She bought my cousin a birthday present, "Mr Darcy's Diary" by Maya Slater. Of course neither of us could resist reading it first. (Incidentally my gift was a spa treatment.) In the past, I do recall reading sequels such as Joan Aiken's "Mansfield Revisited" and Emma Tennant's "Pemberley" (recall this was really bad). But not much else.

I have now realised that over the past few years, in particular after the screening of the landmark BBC production of "Pride and Prejudice", Jane's characters and stories have inspired many writers to pick up the story where she left off. Specifically, most of these writers seem to be inspired by Colin Firth in a wet shirt. There's of course, the one and only "Bridget Jones' Diary". But to be fair, despite the name of the leading man, and the similarities to P&P plot lines, Bridget is her own woman and we love her, just as she is :-)

After reading through a few of these Jane Wannabe books, I thought I'd better start keeping track. By and large, they fall into a few categories:

• The alternate perspective: Principally, Darcy's. There're not one but two entitled "Mr Darcy's Diary". The first I read, by Maya Slater, portrays Darcy as a Regency Rake. Hmmm. I don't think so! But I liked the second, by Amanda Grange. It sounds like Darcy's voice throughout, and she expands on the action at critical points quite well, especially Darcy's search for Wickham and Lydia in London. She also expands the story a little at the end to include a Christmas at Pemberley. I just got a little tired of the word "satirical" especially in relation to Caroline Bingley - her "satirical" comment, look, etc. Another book in this category is Janet Aylmer's "Darcy's Story". That one reproduces massive chunks of dialogue from the original book (boring!), and doesn't really expand very much on the original story. Granted, there is some effort to expand on the relationship between Darcy and Georgiana in particular - but it's just not enough.


• The Sequel - ok I admit I can't remember what happened in the Joan Aiken and Emma Tennant sequels mentioned earlier. Maybe a re-read is necessary. But I did read the Mother of All Sequels, Sybil Brinton's "Old Friends and New Fancies", written in 1913, and which aims to provide a sequel to all the Jane Austen books! I admit that it is a major task and she gets kudos for effort. But at the end, there were too many threads to weave together, too many characters to follow-through on - at the end of it, I find I really don't care two hoots. What I did enjoy, however, were Elizabeth Aston's charming novels on the next generation of Darcys. I'm not too sure whether these are properly called "sequels" as they are self-contained stories in their own right. I've only read two - "The True Darcy Spirit", and "The Second Mrs Darcy". The characters have some connection to Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy, eg their daughters, Darcy's cousins, cousin's wife etc but the notable exceptions are Elizabeth and Mr Darcy who are only mentioned and never actually appear in the books! The novels don't try to be written in the style of Jane Austen - indeed, Aston owes a far greater debt to Georgette Heyer in coming up with these Regency romances. Which still makes them fun and highly enjoyable!


• The Modern Jane - Finally, modern chicklit meets Jane Austen. Mr Darcy throws a long shadow into the lives of modern gals who dream of meeting him in their daily lives. So these American misses (I suppose this is so that they can appeal to the US market) fly over the Atlantic to find the England of Jane Austen. In "Austenland" by Shannon Hale, American girl goes off to a stately home in England for a month's "theme vacation", where all the guests pretend they are living in the days of Jane Austen. "Mr Darcy and Me", by Alexandra Potter, is about an American on a guided tour of Jane Austen's England where she realises that the Mr Darcy she fantasises about can't match up to the real life reporter who joined the tour trying to work out what's so great about this Darcy chap. The BBC production is featured in both books, with special mention of the lake scene. Neither book is that great - eg the plots are a little predictable but I did derive some moderate enjoyment from these books (particularly Mr Darcy and Me) because they did not pretend to be anything other than chick lit. Neither of the main female characters can hold a candle to Bridget, though.

The ultimate test - most of these books were borrowed from the library. Which would I actually want to buy and keep on my bookshelf? Hmmm... tough one there. I think only Amanda Grange's Darcy's Diary passes that test and maybe I could consider an Elizabeth Aston book.

Now to move on to the novels inspired by the other JA books!

The Cat is Under the Chair

Last Sunday, I went to Pulau Rempang, Indonesia. Rempang is one of the Riau islands in Indonesia. My aunt has been coordinating a regular group of volunteers to go to Rempang once a fortnight for about 2 hours to teach English to primary school students. This was the first time I had gone with the group.


The group convened at 7am+ at the Harbourfront ferry terminal. We took the ferry to Batam, and then a bus took us overland to Rempang. Batam is connected to the neighbouring islands by a series of bridges and it is about an hour from Batam to the mission on Rempang. The two islands are quite different. Batam's economy is manufacturing-dominated; there is a modern shopping mall on Batam (just next to the ferry terminal). The mall has a huge hypermart, a number of food outlets (including an A&W!) and many other shops. It is full of Singaporeans buying cheap groceries and donuts from J Co. (We spent some time there on the way back.)


Rempang, on the other hand, is an agricultural community. Houses are further apart, and are simple wooden and attap structures. On either side of the road, there are fields, but these are also spread out. Not much other development in sight. But the highway through the island is good.

The mission is just off the highway. It is a large compound, dominated by the chapel on one side and the school on the other. There are six classes, from Pr 1 to 6. According to my aunt, it is a popular school on the island, with students coming from all over the island and even from Batam. A few children walk to school, some take the bus, but a number stay on the school premises as their families live too far away for them to walk and as there are not enough buses to cater to the group. The compound itself is well maintained. But there is no running water or electricity. So, the life here is not so easy.

We broke into groups and went for our classes. It is a little too much like rote learning, I think. The children are able to recite the sentences after the volunteer reads them out but later on, when we go through the exercise I realise some of them did not understand. The exercise is one of sentence completion (eg, the cat is __________). We went through once orally with them and after that, they were supposed to write out the answers on their own. But when we went round checking on their progress, I found that whilst some are able to complete the work, others can't really spell and a few have problems getting started. But for those who completed the paper, I just stamped a star on. They really liked that!

During the break and after the session, I took some photos. The children loved to pose. In fact, unless I stand far away and zoom in on the scene, I can't take a candid shot at all! I think about our Singapore kids, their comfortable lives, the cosseting they get from their careful parents. It is such a contrast with these kids here. The boys here play marbles - once a common childhood game in Singapore but I suspect most young boys won't even possess marbles any more. But at least these boys are playing with each other and not with a computer.

Whilst waiting for the group to reconvene, we watched some of the children sing and dance. Here's a short video of some of the boys in action:

After the session, we went back to Batam to take the ferry back to Singapore. One hour out by ferry, another by bus, and another 2 hours to get back. Excludes waiting time at either end and the drive to and from Harbourfront. We got home at 7pm, so it was a 12 hour effort to give a 2 hour lesson. I am impressed by the volunteers who actually do this fortnightly!

Some other photos of the trip can be found on my flickr page.

Table Tennis - Olympics Team Finals

Last Sunday our women's team played the Chinese for a Gold Medal. Well, we did not win and many did not expect us to. But unfortunately Li Jiawei said before the game that she did not expect to win and many people then felt that she was not showing fighting spirit. What will make people happy? Why penalise Jiawei for forgetting how to be politically correct? The newspaper article also commented that she showed more fight during her semi-final match with Zhang Yining in the women's singles. Well, what does one expect? She had not got any medal yet!


I'm quite proud of our table tennis team, so much so that I made a video of the match off my tv. Fortunately, at a point they were doing well. Here is my little video:

Go girls! London 2012!

Oh, Frabjous Day!

It is not every day that Singapore gets an Olympic medal, so I thought I would commemorate it. Well done to our table tennis women's team of Li Jiawei, Wang Yuegu, and Fang Tianwei. They have done us proud.

Watching the Olympics, I realised that for many events, it is about consistent excellence. Take the men's gymnastics individual medal, for example. Yang Wei performed consistently well across all apparatus and took the Gold, predictably. But the gentleman who took the Bronze won because he did a great vault, and was consistent throughout the rest of his performances without making mistakes. He was more surprised than anyone else when those ranked above him put a foot wrong or fell off the apparatus, leaving him in third place.

On the subject of gymnastics, I really am very cross with the Starhub folk. They didn't show the repeat telecast of the female gymnastics individual medal! Instead they show women's football, volleyball and beach volleyball. Goodness me. The next day, the papers feature the performance of the female gymnasts and don't give any newsprint to the other three events. Of course pride of place and the most amount of coverage goes to our table tennis gals! Well done again to them!

Finally, I found a number of Olympic atheletes have started blogging. It is quite interesting to browse through them. Here's the link.

p.s. The photo is of the logo on my Beijing Olympics t-shirt, given to me by my classmate who works in the Sports Bureau in one of the Chinese provinces.

Poetry Exercise No. 13: Heroic Verse

Heroic verse is pretty straightforward. Rhyming couplets aabbccdd in good old iambic pentameter. I'd skipped this particular exercise earlier as I wasn't particularly inspired. We were supposed to write about a chap trying to explain away possession of cannabis but it didn't interest me. But now the alternative is to write a sestina, which is a pretty formidable prospect. And so, back to the heroic verse. The inspiration, however, comes from the story of St Benezet, the guy who built a bridge in a little town called Avignon...

Pleased to meet you. They call me Benezet.
Just a shepherd, no one special you’d say.
I was watching my sheep by Avignon
(the town to be made famous through a song)
When I heard God’s voice speak to me, “Go down”,
He said, “And tell the people of that town
Build a bridge across that river, so a
Traveller can safely cross that river
To rest his head within the town”, and then
He added, “I’m right behind you, dear Ben.”
So I picked up my crook, and found someone
To care for my sheep till my task was done.
Then down I walked to Avignon to see
How I could complete my task. Just to be
In this great town was indeed a delight
A change from looking after sheep all night
But I knew I could not forget my task
So I went down to the bishop to ask
If he could build a bridge 'cross the river
For God wanted it done, that much was clear
But he and the townspeople laughed at me
(They all thought that I was being funny)
But I was determined, and persisted
"Build God that bridge!" I firmly insisted.
They didn't believe me (which was quite rude)
And so they asked me, "Young man, if you could
Carry that little stone just a short way
We'll build that bridge for you, starting today!"
So I looked at the stone and had a shock
Their little stone was a mighty great rock!
So I called on God, and asked for his aid
"You said you'd help me out, dear Lord" I prayed
Then I gave that big rock a shove and heave
Those townpeople didn't know what to believe
For God heard my prayer and lent me a hand
With his help I carried that rock to the
River and threw it in. I said, "Look here"
To the townspeople, "Fulfil your promise."
They looked at each other and mumbled "Yes".
So a bridge now spans that river, and hey!
Guess what - they now call me, "St Benezet".

Poetry Exercise No. 14: Villanelle

Ok, I personally think this is a terrible attempt. But I have stopped writing for some time, so am pushing this out just to get started again. The assignment is a villanelle. I've actually explained the villanelle form in an earlier post so all that's left now is the exercise. Since the villanelle is a French form, I sought inspiration from my recent trip to France (for more, read here). Here goes:

The Chateau of Chenonceau

Through my galleries people come and go
They live, dream, laugh and cry, whilst all the while
Beneath my bridges does the river flow

Thomas Bohier first built the chateau
Katherine his wife furnished it with style
Through my galleries people come and go

Henry Second the castle did bestow
On lovely Diane just to see her smile
Beneath my bridges does the river flow

Henry died and Catherine his widow
Seized Chenonceau for her very own pile
Through my galleries people come and go

Catherine built a hall for the chateau
Festivals were held, dances in the aisle
Beneath this hall does the river flow

Now, tourists walk the halls of Chenonceau
For the camera their faces do smile
Through my galleries people come and go
Beneath my bridges watch the river flow

Photo shows the great hall at Chenonceau, built over the river. Note that there is a certain poetic licence taken in one verse.

P.S. For villanelles, the middle line must rhyme throughout, just as the first line of each verse must rhyme with the last. A rhyming dictionary is pretty useful here.

P.P.S I had to amend the poem. Forgot that villanelles are supposed to have only 6 stanzas of 3 lines each. Anyway, don't think the junked verses were much loss.

A Case of Gender Confusion

My father has been feeding two cats from the nearby road for some time now. They are pretty animals - white, with just a few black markings on their foreheads. Every evening, he picks them up, brings them into a house and puts them in the cage so that they can be fed without interference from the other cats. Then, after they have eaten, he releases them.

Anyway, preliminary assessment was that they were both males. We had (as usual) been making preparations for sterilising the two cats and the plan was to familiarise them to human contact, and then hopefully find them an adopter. In the interim, I called them whiteboy1 and whiteboy2 (no more intimate names as these would lead to greater feeling of involvement and ownership). We had taken the larger of the two for sterilisation but my father felt that the smaller one could wait a little.

Such was the state of affairs when my father and I were walking home Sunday evening and saw Paddy, our big male cat lying on top of some white fur. Now we had neutered Paddy so that, in itself was surprising. It was even more surprising, when we approached a little nearer to Paddy, and found that he was lying on top of whiteboy2!!!

Well, Paddy's behaviour was not inexplicable. After all, we did neuter him a little late in the day (we were prioritising females, younger males first). As for whiteboy2 - the simplest explanations are often likely to be the most accurate. Looks as though whiteboy2 is really whitegirl, on heat.

Back to cats

Now that I have finished all these French posts, I can go back to blogging about my daily life and more importantly, my cats!

I did not mention it earlier but whilst I was in France I got a sad SMS from my mother: "Patches died". This was the day after I messaged her to check on the cats and she had replied "all ok". So this message was a little unexpected.

Patches is one of our "street cats" i.e. he lives somewhere on the street and we feed him at night. He's been around awhile, and I suspect could have fathered one of the pirate kittens, Smee (they both have slightly shorter "munchkin"-like legs), prior to his being neutered. He tried coming to our house but Paddy chased him off and so he is fed on the pavement opposite our house.

One day my father (the chief feeder) said that he hadn't seen Patches around for a week. Now the thing about the street cats is that they come and go frequently - if they disappear, it is very difficult for us to find them. So we could only wait for Patches to reappear which he did, a day or two later, on our doorstep. His appearance was shocking - completely bedraggled, very thin, and could hardly walk. We put him in one of the cages, fed him (he was really hungry) and monitored him. The next day, we took him out of the cage so he could eat and walk around a bit. Then, despite his weak state, he staggered outside and refused to come back. As the days passed this pattern continued. He came regularly for food but left after he had eaten. He seemed to improve. The other cats did not like his appearance on our doorstep and avoided the house when he was around.

Whilst I was in France, these little journeys of his proved his undoing. It rained torrents one day and poor Patches was caught in it. He came back soaked to the skin. My parents dried him off, put him in a towel and tried to warm him up. But by the morning, he had passed away. Poor Patches. He was a spunky and independent cat, and when we got to know him better, an affectionate one. We will miss him.


It has generally not been a good time for our cats. Sootie has been urinating blood. It is a result of feeding him cheap cat food - what can we do when we feed 15 cats in total - but false economy now as the vet bills are racking up. At our first visit, we got some antibiotics for him. 3 weeks after our initial visit, the problem is still there. Brought him for a second vet visit and found he's now dehydrated. He needs to be infused with about 220ml of saline, for 3 days in a row. He refuses the healthy prescription diet supplied by the vet and so we need to decide whether to give him the food which he is used to, even tho' its not so good for him. As the picture shows, he is very well behaved at the vet - terrified, poor boy.

Mickey's got problems eating, and of course his worm problem hasn't gone away either. Another vet visit, but at least the inflamation in his mouth is going away and his appetite is back (in a big way). Mollie, on the other hand has been limping for a few days now. Whiteboy1 (another stray) had an abcess on his cheek, likely caused by a wound infected from a fight. Fortunately it has burst and we cleaned it and threw antiseptic powder on it.

And of course, Dinky has gotten fleas from somewhere! Sigh. It never rains but paws.

By Train and by Plane

Our last day in Provence and in France!

Our train was at 12noon so we just wandered around a bit around the area. We went to the cathedral, Notre Dame-des-Doms, which is next to the Pope's Palace. Architecturally, the main features of the church are the crucifix right in front, and the statue of Mary right on the top of the church, covered in gold. Set on top of a hill, the cathedral provides a good view of the square below, the rooftops of Avignon and of Villeneuf le Avignon across the river. Behind the church, the gardens. We did not explore there, however, but went inside the church itself.

In a little side chapel on the left of the church entrance, there was a mini-exhibition on the shroud of Turin - what must have been a life-size picture of the original, stretched across the altar. The "face" could be seen quite distinctly, as can be seen in this photo.

The church itself was a little sombre, but what I found interesting was the little "in memorium" plaques which were put up around the statues in the various side chapels of the church, of different dates, in different eras.

We left the church, did a spot of shopping and then went back to our B&B to pay the bill. Indeed, I was a little sad to leave this charming and restful little hotel, with the beams across its ceilings, its narrow staircases with the worn steps and the internal courtyards. I will miss the breakfasts too - the morning coffee and chocolate, the fluffy croissants and the cup of fruit.

It was going to be a long journey back to Singapore from Avignon. Because of the crowded trains, we left Avignon on an early train to connect to another train in Lyon. This resulted in us getting to the airport 7 hours before our flight (which was delayed another half an hour). But the train journey was fairly well used - we sorted out most of the accounts. At the airport itself, I did a little surfing, reading, and a fair amount of shopping. What we did not have very much of, was FOOD. The French pride in and passion for food stops at the airport. The main food court closes by 8pm (8PM!!!!) and there are only two small kiosks left, both pretty crowded. However they were at both ends of the terminal and I did not find them when I did my initial round. So, after a light baguette lunch, we had a light dinner. Sigh.

The flight home was not too bad. Because we checked in 7 hours early, we got our seats changed to the front row just next to the exit. That makes such a difference! Wonderful to stretch your legs! The other thing about Air France as opposed to SQ (and believe me, SQ is ahead in most other areas) is that there are more French movies. I'd watched "The Choir" on the way out, so this time round I watched "Two Days in Paris". This was written, directed, and starred Julie Delpy. It charted the deterioration of the relationship, between Delpy's character and her American boyfriend, on their way back to New York from Venice, via Paris. The plot is limited, and the emphasis clearly on the dialogue and the interaction between the characters. This is rather like "Before Sunset" and "Before Sunrise" which starred Delpy and Ethan Hawke, but whilst Sunset/Sunrise encapsulate the perfect brief encounter, "Two Days" in some way is its dark reflection. Some reviews here and here.

At last, our plane touched down. It was 6pm Singapore time, exactly 24 hours after we had left Avignon.

And so ends my visit to France, my first for many years. In particular, I enjoyed my visit to Provence, even though its legendary sunshine had temporarily deserted it. The charming little villages, the old towns and Roman ruins, the beautiful countryside make it a place I would definitely want to visit again.

Au Revoir!

Provence Pooch of the Day (3)

Dog walking his owner
Originally uploaded by Taking5

Dog walking his owner in the Place de Palais des Papes, Avignon.

He's got the slim head of a hunting dog. Somehow, Avignon has fewer dogs than Paris.

Sur la Pont, d'Avignon

Today, we set off at last to view the sights of Avignon. Although we had been here since Monday (three days ago now) we had been occupied elsewhere, visiting Orange, Chateauneuf-de-Pape and the pretty little Provencal villages on Tuesday, then Arles yesterday.

So it was only today that we had the opportunity to take in the sights of Avignon. We went first to the biggie, the Palais des Papes in Avignon. The Palace of the Popes has indeed a special place in Catholic history. The uncertainties of the times in the 1300's drove the papacy out of Rome. The popes Clement V and John XXII then decided to settle in Avignon, creating the Avignon Papacy. Altogether, 7 Popes and 2 Antipopes resided in Avignon. The building is stark and severe, a fortress rather than a palace. Again, I suppose this reflects the uncertain times.


Whilst the Papacy returned to Rome in 1378, the Vatican retained Avignon in its possession as a Papal State, until the French Revolution. The Palace was then turned into a barracks for many years. As such, today, the Palace retains very little of the former grandeur it must have had in the days of the Popes. No furniture or hangings, or paintings. What does remain are some frescoes in some chapels and also in the Pope's bedroom. Well, the Pope may have stayed there over 600 years ago but that is still the nearest I will ever get to his bedroom. We were not allowed to take any photos, though.



We went then to the nice little church near our B&B, Eglise St Pierre. It is apparently one of the older churches in Avignon, after the cathdral Notre Dame-des-Doms. It has beautiful wooden doors, and is really ornately decorated inside.


We had lunch thereafter, at one of those little restaurants on the Place d'Horloge - definitely a tourist trap. It was a set meal with soup, a main course and dessert and I really would not recommend it to anyone. It was quite pleasant, however, watching the people in the square - particularly a little boy who was running around the place, shadowed by his anxious mother.

After lunch, we headed back to St Benezet's bridge. The bridge is only a half-bridge, with half of it destroyed by floods many years ago. Yet its fame has spread far and wide thanks to a simple little song:

"Sur le Pont d'Avignon,
on y danse,on y danse,
sur le pont d'Avignon,
on y danse tous en rond..."

St Benezet was a shepherd boy who heard voices telling him to build a bridge - he managed to convince people that he was divinely inspired when he was able to lift a huge stone that no one else could move. However, no one ever danced on the bridge because it was deemed too narrow. Rather, the people danced on the river islands on which the bridge had been built. Such is the power of song....




We wandered around the shops to buy some souvenirs after our visit to the bridge. Unfortunately, it had started to rain - an unpleasant, incessant drizzle which made it very irritating to shop. Avignon has a high street with many shops, no shopping centres per se. So in the end we made our way back to our B&B where I had some time to clear emails before going out for dinner. Dinner was at the Hotel de Palais - we ate at the restaurant hotel. It was a pleasant enough meal, but what I really liked was the fireplace in the middle of the room. It was one of those which looks like a log fire, until you notice that the logs aren't being consumed by the flames...

Looking back, it is indeed a pity that we did not have more time in Avignon. I'd have liked to have the opportunity to cross the river to visit Villeneuf le Avignon. Well, we had wanted to get to Avignon much earlier on the Monday but the trains did not allow. Likewise, we would be taking an extremely early train back to Paris the next day. So, our time in Avignon was curtailed a little more than we had initially hoped.


Here's photo link.

A Michelin Meal

Some people come to France just to collect Michelin stars, i.e. eat at Michelin-starred restaurants. I had only one such meal - at Christian Etienne in Avignon, a one-star Michelin restaurant. Probably that makes the meal all the more memorable for me.

By now, of course, we had eaten a number of good dinners in nice restaurants. But dining in a Michelin-starred restaurant is different. It is not just about the food - it is definitely about the service, too. The receptionist took my coat at the door, and we were given little stands to put our handbags on (we took some time to figure out why they had put these little iron things next to our chairs) and so on. And yes, they do take the time to explain the menu in English, and when dishes are brought to you they 'introduce' them to you. There were quite a number of service staff too - the maitre'd, his frenzied waiters and waitresses, all rushing around. The chef himself makes the rounds of the tables, greeting his guests. He definitely is not in the kitchen preparing your meal. But guess that is what being an executive chef is all about.

We started off with our aperitifs, bite-sized, tasty morsels. I had ordered tuna ceviche as a starter (essentially sashimi), lamb and asparagus as my main course and an orange and carrot macaron for dessert. I enjoyed the tuna sashimi - quite a substantial portion - but was less keen on the dried avocado which accompanied the dish as the rich, creamy texture of the avocado was completely lost. The lamb, on the other hand, was perfectly cooked, as were the asparagus accompanying the dish.


We had a little pineapple sorbet next, to cleanse the palate before dessert. I had a really interesting orange and carrot macaron with some almond sorbet. The carrot was raw, grated carrot sticking out of the middle of the macaron. Interesting, but somehow it worked. Our meal ended with coffee and a row of petit fours - we could not finish ours. It was definitely a very memorable meal. If you want to see all the food photos (not just the dishes) click here.


I've basically come to the conclusion that French food in general can be divided into a few categories:

a) traditional basic: your baguettes and pastries and the like, which are typically very good and tasty, likewise the patiesseries
b) fine dining: obviously very fine indeed (anything from 70Euros per person and up)
c) tourist food: generally not very good though quite cheap.
d) mid-price, good value meals: hard for tourists to find. (20-30Euros per person)

My sense is that unlike Italy, which does pretty good deals with their mid-range menus even in tourist joints (at least the tourist joints I haunted), the French tourist menu is just not that great. I recall having this lovely salad with beautiful fresh ingredients in Florence. But here in France, somehow if you go to a cafe by the Seine, for example, you know the quiche will be a little eggy and wet, the crepes will be covered with nutella and the salad will consist of a few soggy leaves and maybe a slice of tomato or two. But buy a baguette with some ham, or chicken, and you eat a good meal for about 4 Euros or so.

Sadly, I only discovered the website "Chocolate and Zucchini" nearer the end of my stay in Paris. The blogger, Clotilde Dusoulier, is a young Frenchwoman who went to the US to work and started cooking there. She came back to France, continued to cook and started a blog about her cooking, eating etc. She wrote in English, so as to keep on using the language and it became a big hit. One book deal followed, and then another. Clotilde is now a full time writer. Her latest book is "Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris" and it gives little tips on her favourite eateries in Paris. I managed to spot this on the shelves of "Shakespeare & Company", our last full day in Paris.

So for those intending to go to France in the near future, check out her site. And also, print out her French-English food glossary. I found that my little phrase book was most put to use in restaurants. Whilst I soon memorised "agneau" for lamb and "canard" for duck, there're a lot of of little phrases which I just can't remember.

Bon Appetit!

Provence Pooch of the Day (2)

Just me and my dogs
Originally uploaded by Taking5

Not one but 3 dogs in this photo (plus one gentleman). He was sitting on the steps of the Eglise St-Trophime in the Place de la Republique in Arles.

The church itself is known for its beautiful, ornate portal with columns and niches, with statues of saints, apostles, etc. It was only open after lunch...

Mistral reigns in Arles

Today, we went to Arles, taking a quick train from Avignon. Arles is a charming, eminently walkable town with all its key attractions in a relatively small area.


Our first stop was the farmers' market, just outside the city walls. We had decided to visit Arles on the Wednesday because this was the day the farmers' market was on and we would not be able to catch the farmer's market in Avignon (only on weekends). The market is indeed an entertaining place, full of shops selling olives, herbs, meat, fish and vegetables, cheese, honey and so on. We wandered through the food shops, and went through a few clothing and fabric shops. But at that point we reached our turning for one of the big attractions of Arles - its Roman arena.


Like Orange, and other towns in Provence, Arles is a former Roman town and has the arena, the theatre, and the baths to prove it. The arena is pretty big (there is a sign in the arena indicating the relative sizes of a number of the remaining Roman arenas) at 136 x 107m (I suppose this excludes the surrounding walls?). There were also a few signs here and there indicating where to go, and a nice view of Arles from the tower on top. But unlike the Orange Roman theatre, there was no autoguide and so it was less interesting a visit than it might have been.

We left the arena and found ourselves in the little row of fabric shops just outside the arena. I must admit we spent some time here looking at the fabrics and making little purchases.

The next stop was the Roman theatre. However, we took a quick look and decided not to go in. There was a fair amount of restoration work going on, in the first place - probably preparing the place for the summer rush. But, more importantly, the theatre was very much in ruins, with only two columns remaining of what must have been an impressive building. A very far cry from the well preserved theatre at Orange. Having seen that one, we were disinclined to go in.

We moved on, but since it was the lunch hour all the shops were shutting (except the eateries). We walked into the Cafe Des Arts opposite the Museum Arlaten (also shut) and found that that apparently, it was formerly a residence and Van Gogh used to stay there. Unwittingly, we were following a Van Gogh trail! Provence is associated with so many great painters and writers. Van Gogh spent a year in Arles, and apparently this was a very productive period for him. Guidebooks describe the "Van Gogh" trail and show the different spots he painted. Later in the day, we would walk through the Espace Van Gogh, which used to be a mental hospital, where Van Gogh was treated and is now a cultural centre. In the central courtyard is a sign with a reproduction of a Van Gogh painting of the hospital. The buildings are painted and the courtyard laid out in the manner depicted in the painting, a nice little tribute to Van Gogh. Of course, it is a little too late considering Van Gogh's talents were never appreciated in his time. Incidentally, there is only one single Van Gogh painting in the whole of Provence - I think in a museum in Avignon. Of course we did not go there and so the only Van Gogh I did see in my time in France was the one in the Rodin Museum in Paris - that of La Pere Tanguy.

But Van Gogh was only a visitor. Arles' favourite son is indubitably Frederic Mistral, Nobel Laureate (Literature, 1904). His statue is in the town square, and his legacy lives on in the Museum Arlatan, which was set up with the Nobel prize money, and which we visited when it opened after the lunch hour. The museum is focused on Provencal dress, traditions, culture etc. It didn't allow photos though. Hence, no photos of its exhibits. I did see, however, a small little figure of the "Tarasque", a legendary monster of Provence. We had first about the Tarasque the previous day from our guide as she drove us through the town of Tarascon. The story is that the Tarasque was terrorising a town in France and was only defeated by St Martha. The town was thereafter renamed Tarascon. Other exhibits included large, lifesize models of family events, eg visitors to a mother and her new baby.

I walked next to the Roman baths, described in the guidebook as "well preserved". Well, it is all relative. Again, a lot of restoration work was going on, but most of the building had gone. On the other hand, it seemed in better condition than the ruins of the Roman bath I recall in Fiesole.

In general, I enjoyed our little visit to Arles. However, Arles' tourism body has some work to do. Overall, the presentation and the information provided at the Roman sites were far behind the very comprehensive audio guide provided in Orange's roman theatre. I saw my second French feline here, though (at the baths). Such a rare sight is indeed worth mentioning :-)

Photos of Arles.

Provence Pooch of the Day (1)

Provence Pooch
Originally uploaded by Taking5

So I was wandering the streets of Les Baux Provence when I spotted this large animal looking rather woebegone in a corner.

There were many, many dogs in Les Baux Provence. As I mentioned earlier, I suspect a certain amount of domestic tourism with the pets brought on holiday as well.

It was a challenge to choose my Pooch of the Day. He gets it because he was one of the bigger dogs I've met so far. You don't see it from this photo, but that was a pretty big pot.

Toujours Provence

At last! The Provence I had been waiting for, the Provence of golden sunshine on green fields and vineyards, the Provence of Peter Mayle. We had had a little taste of it in Chateauneuf-du -Pape. This afternoon, we would be going around the charming villages of Provence, some of “le plus beaux villages de France”.

We had picked up a number of people in Avignon (and dropped off the one chap who had joined us during the morning). Two were Japanese, one was Australian and another from Argentina, plus one American couple from (if I recall correctly) Michigan. So Caroline, our guide, had more people to explain things to. And since Americans tend to ask a lot of questions, we learnt a lot more. For example, the difference between lavende and lavendin. Apparently, the “true” lavender is lavende; it grows in higher regions and tends to be finer. Lavendin on the other hand grows at lower altitudes and tends to have a far stronger (not necessarily a bad thing?) and more camphorated smell. More details can be found on the lavender museum website (fine lavender is lavende and spike lavender, lavendin). According to the French, “true” lavender is found only in Provence but lavendin can be found anywhere (more common) such as the variety found in Hokkaido, Japan (the Japanese couple were saddened to hear this).

We also had the pleasure of hearing our guide correct the American gentleman’s attempts at pronouncing French words. I was reminded of the comment in Sixty Million Frenchmen that the French have no compunction about correcting pronunciation and grammar mistakes made by others.

Our first stop was however not in a little Provencal village but at Pont-du-Gard, a Roman aqueduct which spanned the River Gardon (at its narrowest point) and which is yet another UNESCO world heritage site. The total length of the aqueduct is about 50 kilometres, stretching from its originating spring, near Uzès to Nîmes. The bridge has three levels, the first the arches spanning the river, the next carrying the water and the third a series of small arches to cover the water channel so it arrives at its destination cleaner. It amazed me to see how broad the bridge was. It is broad enough for a little car to drive on. The bridge is in excellent condition – likely there have been some repairs and restoration work done but in general, those Romans did a good job. As I said before, they knew what they were doing.

Leaving the bridge, we went first to Les Baux de Provence. Now I am a little annoyed with myself because I didn’t catch that the chateau in this village is supposed to be one of those major sights to see in the whole of Provence. I can’t recall Caroline mentioning it, but she did mention most things so maybe I just missed it. Anyway, Les Baux is a village on a hill in the middle of this huge valley of strangely shaped stones. The houses in the village are made of similar stone – they are all of similar colour. Life must be hard here outside tourist season. It was already fairly windy when we were there – I cannot imagine what it must be like during the period of the mistral when the wind howls around the windows and doors. What was surprising was the large number of dogs in this little village. I can only conclude that there is a fair amount of domestic tourism and the French take their dogs on holiday. Sometimes, it can result in little confrontations...

We drove next to the little village of Gordes. Now Gordes is famous for being one of the most beautiful villages in France, but in addition it was the location for the café featured in the movie “A Good Year” starring Russell Crowe and Albert Finney (Russell Crowe’s character gets together with the owner of the café). I’d just happened to catch the movie on cable before leaving Singapore (I read the book as well – there are certain differences) and frankly, I found it hard to recognize the café, but fortunately our guide was able to direct us to the correct spot. Gordes was even windier than Les Baux and it seemed to me that some of the attractions were closed so even after you walk down the hill against the wind you don’t get rewarded by getting to see something interesting. We did visit the little village church.

It was at the point of our departure from Gordes that the Argentinian lady informed our guide that she had to catch the 7.40pm TGV train from Avignon to Lyon. Caroline said that she wished that the Argentinian lady could have told her a little earlier of the train time. Now here you must understand that there sometimes seems to be some differences in timing from the website to what the tour operator is working on. For example, we thought that our tour to the chateaux in the Loire Valley would end comfortably by 7pm when it ended a little after, resulting in a great rush for us to catch our train back to Paris. Here, she apparently thought the tour would end at 7pm when it was actually ending at 7.30pm. Moral of the story: always ask what time the tour ends and tell the driver if you need to take a train.

We rushed to the next stop – the village of Roussillon, famous for its beautiful red, orange and ochre coloured houses. The clay for the houses was taken from the nearby cliffs – which are of red, orange, ochre etc. It was probably the prettiest of the three villages we had seen that day. But the sun was going down and the shops were starting to close. Anyway, we rushed straight back to Avignon TGV station and got there by 7.30am – just in time for the Argentinian lady to catch her train! We gave Caroline a round of applause.

We drove back to Avignon city centre after that exciting dash to the train station. Since we were tired out, we had a quiet dinner of moulles frittes at a German eatery we had seen the previous day. Washed down with a glass of Kanterbrau beer.

Toujours Provence, indeed. It was A Good Day. Lots of great photos.


p.s. Incidentally it was not exactly my dream day in Provence. It was slightly overcast. But then, it does make it more comfortable to walk around.

In the footsteps of Popes and Emperors

Today, we took a day tour around Provence. I like taking day tours of the countryside; for people like us who don't want to drive around it makes a lot of sense because we can cover a lot of ground in one day. But because we covered so much ground, there's so much to say that I'll have to divide this into two posts.

Our first stop that morning was in Orange, to see the Roman ruins there - the triumphal arch and the antique theatre. Orange was originally known as Arausio but over time, the name got corrupted to Orange. It has nothing to do with the fruit. Our guide, Caroline, told us that the title of the Dutch “Prince of Orange” was originally derived from Orange here in France. I was puzzled. But looking it up when I got home, it appears that the title was originally derived through inheritance – the cross-border marriages of state which took place in those days. Even though the Prince of Orange has not “ruled” over Orange for centuries, the title is still used today. It reminds one how deeply rooted in its history Europe is, that the origins of these ancient names and titles are still known today.

Anyway, the first stop was at the well-preserved Roman triumphal arch, erected to mark the site of a great victory (the Arc de Triomphe in Paris and other arches are copies of the Roman arches). The sculptures on the sides of the arch still visible, as are the bullet marks, evidence of a less peaceful past. This was essentially a photo stop and we moved on quickly.

The antique theatre was seriously impressive. It is actually a UNESCO heritage site. I’d seen Roman ampitheatres before (Rome, Verona, Fiesole for example) but this was an antique theatre, an open-air theatre with a huge stage wall and the tiers of seats in front. In its day, it could seat up to 10,000 spectators. There was even some light roof covering. From what we were told, it is apparently the best preserved Roman theatre in Europe. The most prominent point in the theatre was a statue of the Emperor right at the top of the stage wall. There was a good audio tour which took us from point to point, and from this I learnt that actually the Emperor’s head could be removed, and would be replaced whenever there was a change in Emperor.

The rest of the stage wall would have been beautifully decorated with more statues in the niches. But these were removed over time. The theatre fell into disuse at one point and there were houses and even churches built inside it. There are little cavities in the stage wall, created by the inhabitants when they tried to use the wall as a support for beams and such. These were cleared out eventually and the theatre restored.

We climbed to the top of the theatre and there found a long covered corridor which curved around the seats. I was walking slightly ahead when my friend said that she couldn’t see me. I turned around and indeed she was not there – the curve of the corridor hid us from each other. That was when I realised just how good the acoustics were. It was like a whispering corridor – say something at one end and someone on the other end can hear it too. These Romans really knew their stuff.

The good thing about going on guided tours is that they take you very quickly to some key sights; the problem is that we miss a lot of little things along the way. In this case, we did not have time to look at the ruins of the temple beside the theatre or to visit the museum across from the theatre.

We went next to Chateauneuf-du-Pape, so called because the Popes in Avignon built a summer residence here to get away from the big city. The chateau is now a complete ruin, with only two walls left but there is a good view of the surrounding region from the hill. The popes did, however, leave an enduring legacy. They started vineyards and making wine here (one assumes it was for religious purposes). Today, Chateauneuf-du-Pape is an appellation wine. In a village of some 1,000 souls, there are 300 wine makers. I presume some of the employees are from the surrounding areas. Our guide noted that the reason why the area was so good for grapes was because of the rocky ground. The stones soak up the sunshine during the day, and then slowly releases the heat at the night.

We visited a wine museum and did a little wine-tasting of the Chateauneuf-du-Pape at maison Brotte. We tried the white and the red; apparently only 5% of the wine produced in this area is white wine, and is wholly consumed within France. The red wine is exported. Because of strict standards, the grapes of this wine must include Syrah (Shiraz) and Granache grapes. Here I must proudly boast about my very little wine knowledge, gathered over a few wine lessons: I could detect the peppery taste of the Granache grape.

After our wine tasting, our tour driver drove us back to Avignon; she had more passengers to pick up for the afternoon session. We had picked up some lunch (I got a beef pie) in Orange, we munched it as we went along. It was a good morning, which promised much for the afternoon.

Provence photos are here.

Le Chat Noir

Le Chat Noir
Originally uploaded by Taking5

So the pooch of the day today is a cat!

Well, it was the first cat I saw in France. So it deserves a special mention.

As you can see, I only managed to catch a glimpse before he disappeared behind the fencing.

From Paris to Avignon

Today, we left Paris for Avignon. We had spent much of the previous night packing up. So, we spent the morning taking our last look at Paris.

First, coffee in a small specialist coffee shop and then we walked to the Pompidou area and then to Les Halles. It was all very ordinary and then I had two firsts! First, I saw my first McDonald’s in France. It was near Les Halles and aside from a small unobtrusive sign above the entrance, the Golden Arches were not in sight. Guess McDonald’s has finally learnt about French subtlety. Then, I walked a little further and spotted my first cat! However, it swiftly dashed away from me into a fenced area where I could not follow. We wandered around till it was time to go to the train station.

We were taking the TGV from Gare de Lyon to Avignon Central. It was a fairly smooth journey and I was able to update my journal, look at my photos and do the accounts along the way. We picked up a taxi at Avignon Central and he took us to our B&B, La Banesterie. The taxi driver drove rather rapidly around the walls of Avignon till he reached the entrance gate nearest our B&B (near the Palais des Papes, or Palace of the Popes). Then he made his way through a maze of little streets before stopping in front of an ancient building with a statue of Mary above the door. I was delighted.

We were holding up traffic (this was a narrow, cobblestoned street which allows only one car through at a time) so we quickly disembarked and entered the house. The first thing which I noticed was the smell of chocolate, lingering in the air. Our host was a tall Frenchman with a curly mop of hair. He took us to our room and then sat down with us and a map of Avignon to mark his recommended restaurants on our map.

Wandering around the B&B only confirmed our impressions. It is a really charming old place with low timbered ceilings, uneven floors, small narrow staircases (of course our room is on the third floor, thank goodness the ceilings are low), lovely old furniture etc etc. There are also signature chains of “glowing roses” in each room. Our room also had a little plate of chocolates and a lavendar pouch on the bed. Details, details.

We took a walk out to see the sights that evening and wandered around Avignon. The Palais des Papes, the Place de l’Horloge, the Rue de la Republique where the high street shops were and the small little boutiques in the pedestrianised area and along Rue Joseph Vernet. We found many closed (many shops close on Mondays and typically close on weekdays at 7pm) so there was a certain amount of window shopping. Finally, however, it was 8pm when restaurants started to open (here they keep Paris time!) and we went to La Compagnie des Comptoirs for dinner. It was a new trendy restaurant in an old convent with the swankiest toilet I saw in France. (I did not realize until I checked out the weblink that it was originally opened by a pair of celebrated Michelin-starred chefs who were identical twins - Jacques and Laurent Pourcel). It was serving fusion-ish food. I had sashimi with a sort of cream cheese layer on it for starters. Then, a huge serving of this pork dish which was like kong bak with lots of honey involved – yummy, but I had a problem here because I don’t really want to eat all the fat but of course that is the nice part of the dish, so ended up removing the fat on two out of the three huge pieces of kong bak and eating only the last one in its entirety. That piece was truly delectable. The dessert was a spiced poached pear with chocolate and ice cream. It was nice but the table next to us was celebrating a birthday and the birthday cake featured not a candle but a sparkler! I just hoped that the rest of our stay in Avignon would sparkle too. The weather report is not good.

Photos here.

Paris Pooch of the Day (6)

How much is that doggie in the window
Originally uploaded by Taking5

Ok, I admit it. For some reason, I forgot about taking dog photos in my mad dash from place to place during the day.

So that's a dog from yesterday, taken at the restaurant we went to. He was really a friendly little thing who got on very well with the people at the only other occupied table.

Spirit and Structure

Today was our last full day in Paris – how time has flown.

We went for mass in Notre Dame – we’d checked out the mass times when we were there previously. It was an interesting mass. The previous day, the cathedral had hosted “La ceremonie d’adoubement des nouveaux Chevalier et d’investiture des ecclesiastiques et dames de l’Ordre equestre du Saint-Sepulcre de Jerusalem”, which I presume means the investiture of the new knights and dames of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. I looked the name of the order up subsequently; at the time I read the notice I thought it was the “Order of Saint Sepulchre” and was thinking how strange it was to have a saint with such a name… pardon my (lack of) French indeed. Anyway, the mass appeared to be a celebratory mass for the new knights and dames, who filed in procession down the aisle to their reserved seats in the front of the church. The celebrant was Cardinal John Patrick Foley (a US Cardinal), the Grand Master of the Order.

The other unique feature of the mass was that it was sung in Gregorian chant, so the Gloria, Kyrie, Agnus Dei etc were in Latin. I remember thinking how pleased my dear mother would be – she’d know all the words and probably could sing along quite comfortably.

After mass, I had wanted to see St Chapelle – but was confronted by a fairly long queue. So we had lunch instead at a café on the Left Bank, opposite the Notre Dame. It was a pleasant little seat, with a good view of the river, and the buildings on the Ile de la Cité so although the restaurant was pretty pricey for the rather average food we got, we were nonetheless fairly happy.
I realized from scrutinizing my guidebook that we were only a block or two away from the Shakespeare and Co bookshop. So as soon as I’d downed my “Belle Epoque” crepe (bananas, chocolates, almonds, and four huge globs of Chantilly cream) I popped off to see the bookshop whilst my friend went off to another flea market. I’d read about the bookshop in my guidebooks and I must say I wasn’t disappointed. First, it was open - in Paris on a Sunday - and pretty crowded too! There was a quiet buzz about the place, people standing about the door looking at the Seine and the Notre Dame - a pleasant place to be.


Shakespeare & Co is an antiquarian bookshop, and indeed it reminded me of the old second hand bookshops down Charing Cross Road in London. But there are new books too, and a good section just inside which features books about France (all in English of course). The very thing I was looking for! So I bought a book (mentioned in an earlier post; now you know that I did edit my posts before putting them up) entitled “Sixty Million Frenchmen can’t be Wrong” by Jean-Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow, an attempt to explain “what makes the French so French”. We all know the French Paradox – they drink lots of wine, cheese and other fatty foods and yet have low obesity and few heart problems. Likewise, although the French seem to have high taxes, restrictive labour laws, large public sector etc etc – the economy still seems to be doing pretty well (in relative terms), with high labour productivity. The authors’ theory is that the reason why France works is the harmony between the “spirit” of the French and the structures they have given themselves, and the book spells this out in greater detail. I could have bought more books if I’d wanted to, but time was short and the weight of my baggage a weighty issue indeed. I was rather pleased, though that the book bears a “Shakespeare and Co” stamp on it.

The rest of the day was spent museum visiting, to maximize my museum pass (especially since I couldn’t go into Ste-Chapelle). Started off at the Louvre, where I’d decided to look more at the French paintings and early European paintings. There was another contemporary art exhibition going on at the time by Jan Fabre and the exhibits were scattered throughout the Louvre – so when I went into this huge room of old European paintings to see a coffin with a peacock head and tail sticking out.


I was running late after rushing through the French painters, but I could not resist and just before I left, went to take a peek at the Leonardo paintings – the Madonna of the Rocks, Virgin & St Anne and the one and only Mona Lisa. There were some “da Vinci Code” moments, I must admit. I checked out the weight of the Madonna on the Rocks and speculated whether it would be indeed possible for an elderly man with a bullet wound to insert a secret message behind it. As for the Mona Lisa, the best picture I got was of the crowd around her. (Note: After coming back to Singapore I discovered that the Louvre actually has a thematic trail on the “Da Vinci Code” which includes their comments on the factual elements in the book.)
I had planned to meet my friend at the Rodin Museum and so I rushed there. By this time, I was pretty exhausted, having rushed from place to place and wandering around the Louvre without many opportunities to take the weight off my feet. The Rodin Museum, like the Picasso museum, is in a huge old mansion. But the difference is that this was not being renovated and there was a great difference indeed. It was a pleasure to walk through the beautiful rose garden to the statue of The Thinker in the middle. The museum was closing soon so I had only a few minutes to rush through the rooms (it said that it was closing at 5.45pm but in reality they chased us out with about 10 minutes to spare).

We went that night for dinner at Restaurant 404, recommended by Eric as one of the best North African restaurants in Paris. It had a great atmosphere indeed and we were fortunate to get in there by 8.05pm. We were seated together with a couple who had not made a reservation (I have not sat with another group at a restaurant since my student days in London). But it was easy to see why they did that – the place had many reserved seats and it filled up pretty fast. By seating us together it was more likely that we would be served and leave at the same time, so there would be a whole table of 4 released, giving them more flexibility. I enjoyed the dinner – had a tagine of duck and apple which I rather enjoyed. We had dessert and also some mint tea, which I’ve not drunk since I was in Dubai (really must remember to do it here in Singapore, especially as I have a pot of fresh mint just outside the door!).

But we could not stay and soak up the atmosphere. Back to the apartment to pack!

Incidentally, for the whole of our stay in Paris, I never did manage to get online. Most of these posts were written off notes done during our stay there and then posted once we got back to Singapore.

P.S. Ok, I admit it! I also had to see the spot where the big inverted glass pyramid and the small little pyramid almost touched. Here it is.

p.p.s. I am also not unaware that the "Grand Master" phrase has Da Vinci Code echoes.