OLD BONES GET NO REST


Visiting damp tunnels full of centuries old skeletons is probably not everyones idea of a great day out, but there's something I rather like about roaming about in tunnels. And if there's one thing that Paris has got a lot of, it's tunnels. In this case, Paris' famed catacombes.

These particular tunnels were originally limestone quarries - some dating back to Roman occupation (of what was then Lutece). During the late 1700s, there were severe problems with overflowing graveyards and poor burials - especially in the region of Les Halles (once a famous marketplace, now a tragically designed commercial district). To combat the disease caused by these unsanitary conditions (becoming even more problematic during the revolution), it was decided to transfer the bodies to the former quarry sites and create mass graves.

There's something very anonymous about this sort of experience. Graveyards at least give you an indication of who each person was, but here I found myself wondering, as I looked at the rows and rows of skulls, who they were, how they lived, how they died. Though it's sure that these old bones get no rest with all us tourists wandering through day after day.

ADVENTURES IN PRAGUE

Sometimes I feel a bit guilty only staying a weekend in one city, in a country I've never visited. The backpacker in me wanted a good couple of weeks to follow the roads less travelled in this country I know nothing about, speaking a language I don't understand. That said, I have a pretty good talent for figuring out key foreign words pretty quickly. In this instance, though, I think it was limited to beer, wine, exit and thank you.

PICASSO MUSEUM

Europe on a shoestring travelling pro-tip: Museums in France are free on the first Sunday of every month. I recently took advantage of a free cultural day and strolled down to the Hôtel Salé to check out the Picasso Museum (and to compare it with the Barcelona collection...)

DAILY BREAD

Some new change that's been gnawing away at my daily routine and equilibrium. My favourite baker has shut up shop and her bakery has been taken over by new management.
Bakeries are probably the only establishment to outnumber pharmacies in a country where bread in plastic bags that is designed to last longer than 24 hours is relegated to some obscure back aisle of the supermarket. And choosing the right one is a tricky process. Bakery A does great pain au chocolat, but the croissants are too salty. Bakery B has superb buttery croissants but the chausson pommes is too gluey. Bakery C has lovely crusty baguettes, but their brioche isn't sweet enough. And even when they get it all fairly right, they also have to be NICE. You visit them every other day, so someone a bit more amiable than just tolerable is always welcome. My last local baker at Saint Ouen was fairly sour, and her pain au chocolats were underwhelming. So I was chuffed, upon moving, to find a lovely bakery very close to us, with great produce, not too expensive, and a charming funny lady running the place. It was with great dismay that I saw the 'closed - change of ownership' sign up in place a couple of weeks ago. It has recently reopened, and I have popped in once. But everything is more expensive now, the resident cat and kitten have departed, and strangely enough - I feel like a bit of a traitor.

SUMMER IN PROVENCE III

The wild Camargues horse is found only on the watery plains and salt marshes of southeastern France.
And now a quick tour around the Arles and the Camargues region, close to the Mediterranean coast - where bicycles were ridden in the wrong direction, I watched some men chasing bulls in an ancient Roman arena, wild flamingos were seen feeding in the depressingly polluted saltmarshes and I got a tan on my lower back that turned my skin a kind of deep mahogany colour that I did not know was possible...

SUMMER IN PROVENCE II

Such a cliché image, but I couldn't resist! What's Provence without a field of lavender after all...?