hi again!!! first off, minor error in my last post-Vivaldi's four seasons, not Mozart .sorted? ok back to the blog. My great European holiday ( cue fanfare) began with a visit to Wales. Yeah okay maybe not the grandest beginning, but at least I can work my way up?!? ... right? Possibly not normally , but since I am not exactly an ordinary teen my holiday dipped and rose and lead me to live out of my multinational suitcase. Wales was good actually. Well, I was there for three days and slept for two days and nights straight, so, whilst I was Wake it was good...and amazingly missing that oh so famous welsh weather condition-rain. That was a relief. Then my mum turned up and we went to Paris . Yup, due to afore mentioned exhaustion I outed on the actual French exchange, but that didn't stop my mum hopping on a plane from hong kong and zooming back to sunny wales for our own personal vacance a la France . So off we went to Paris. I have to mention I've been to Paris more times than I've been to London in the past seven years ( not including visiting heathrow) so I wasn't sure how my mum could possibly find anything new for us to do. She did however, and the first day of my Parisien vacation I spent on a bicylce in the sunshine: cycling down the banks of the Seine; round the back of the Notre Dame cathedral and into the plaza outside the Louvre. Not that I'm showing off or anything . (word to the wise: hot chocolate outside the Louvre is delicious and picturesque but ridiculously expensive). On the same day we cycled entirely uphill, to then walk uphill to that oh so famous graveyard: the pere lachaise . Well the glorious dead were gloomily inspirational and the uphill hike took care of a major part of the old ' blancmange'. In fact everything was going swimmingly in that restplace of the dead until we got picked upnby the graveyards tour guide. Now, you might possibly be wondering why the graveyard has a tour guide. Some of you may think it's not in the best of taste, others may think it's unnecessary. This is surprisingly not the case- because the particular graveyard my mother and I wee walking the Streets of (got a clue yet??)- had 10,000 graves with 70,000 corpses decaying beneath the cigarette butt littered soil. a whole city of graves, complete with building like temples etc. Anyway, back to the guide- who babbled at us in French , said he thought my mother was my sister and showed us lots of famous graves, but not the ones we wanted to see. His most brilliant moment however was his description of how to get buried in the graveyard ... "well," he says in his thick french slur, " first, you 'ave to be born in Paris,and zen 80,000 euros to be buried for one hundred years "( enthusiastic waving of hands to my mum and my gasps of astonishment)" and zen.. BARBECQUE! Me, I can barbecque myself, my wife and my two sons for 3,000 euros. Only if you are famous can you stay here forever". Well, it was an interesting dialogue and later, when he'd left us we saw a large chimney near the top of the graveyard at which point my mum looked at me knowingly and said, "ah hah, zere is ze barbecque"
more updates and parts 2 and 3 of my interesting holiday coming soon.
-- Post From Moi
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