Travel on Film

My final set of year abroad film photographs arrived. Unfortunately I still had the aperture on the wrong setting for most of these snaps, but I've learned to love the grainy look. ENJOY before I get nostalgic and weep into my keyboard. 

Sipping a morning Coffee at The Broken Arm on our first day in Paris. 

Moody shots of a melancholy yet romantic city.

Fresh apricots, rolling hills, mediterranean shutters and the breathtaking South of France sunsets.

Stranded in Strasbourg for 18 hours: coffee and exploring in solitude. 

Frolicking through the German vineyards, eating ice cream in Bretton and those long lazy conversations with Franzi.

The final days in Berlin: Cocktails in Neukölln, hugs at church and Polish Vodka and Minoltas in the apartment. 

COFFEE DIARY: Ten Belles, Paris

Paris is quite renowned amongst my friendship group for having terrible coffee. There are coffee expectations, high coffee expectations when you find yourself in Paris. You want to sit down at a cafe and feel all artsy and sip a cup of Jo whilst writing in your Moleskine, but in reality you find yourself paying 3 euros for an over stewed, badly presented espresso in a cafe/bar full of tourists. After two wonderful trips to the city with multiple coffee disasters, I decided to do some research before heading off on the coffee prowl. The first one we went to, was the Broken Arm which is absolutely worth visiting, because it's cute and has a little boutique attached to it. But the real crowning-coffee glory of the trip was found by our pal Matt, who we met in our hostel. He took us to Ten Belles, a tiny little cafe just next to the canals. It's part of the Third Wave Coffee Movement, which basically means that the coffee is ethical and brewed using the latest filtering methods. We all decided to go for the €3 Filter Coffee and it was absolute perfection. The coffee was so smooth that you didn't really need to add milk! It tasted like pure indulgence and the cafe definitely somewhere you'd want to take your moleskine with you. Atmosphere and coffee quality combined this cafe is a real MUST for any coffee lovers! I also really, really wanted to take the mug home with me. 

Paris On Film: A Summer's Evening on the Seine

I just got my first roll of Paris photos back. Unfortunately, I didn't realise that the aperture on my camera had been twisted to the wrong setting, so a lot of the shots didn't come out exactly how I wanted them to. Thankfully this set from our evening stroll down the Seine look great! It was our second evening in Paris and, being on a budget, we decided to just grab some cheese, wine and rice cakes from the supermarket, then picnic by the side of the river. It was pretty magic. Paris at its best!

 

On the Road

Berlin-Düsseldorf-Köln-Brussels-Paris-Perpignan-Paris-Strasbourg-Karlsruhe-Berlin

For those of you who follow my instagram you will have seen just how crazy the past 11 days have been. My original plan was to meet my family for a holiday in the South of France and I thought the cheapest option would be to grab an Interrail pass and catch numerous trains down south and then back up again. It didn't turn out as cheap as I hoped (blogrant to come) but I definitely enjoyed just sitting back and watching the world whizz by my window.

Diner en Blanc - Berlin's White Dinner Party Flashmob

Last night a bunch of German Mädels, a Parisian Mademoiselle  and a girl from Bracknell found themselves dressed in white in front of the Berliner Dom. The event was Diner en Blanc: a parisian inspired Flash Mob, involving white clothes, delicious food, live music and the utmost spontaneity (or at least feigned spontaneity). Participants organise a dinner party amongst themselves, including table decor, tables, chairs, cutlery, candles and, in some cases, mini-fire pits, then wait until the secret venue is revealed. It's not entirely legal, which is why everything has to be spontaneous (in an organised way) and the identity of those  behind the event is never revealed. Porta loos appear out of nowhere, as do jazz quartets, choirs, fireworks and saxophonists, but no one really knows how.

At 5pm we were told to meet on Bürgerstrasse with our tables and picnic hampers. It was so fun to see everyone all dressed in their white sunday best. Two of the girls from our dinner party had made floral headdresses for us to wear, which of course made us all feel magical and expectant. We then crossed the bridge over the Spree and headed for the green in front of the cathedral, where we all descended like white, floral fireflies. 

Suddenly tables start going up, wine coolers get plonked onto freshly pressed table clothes, picnic hampers fly open and beautiful dinner sets start flying out with speed and delicacy. Tupperware is opened, sending wafts of summer salads, roasted meats and crusty bread through the air. Perfectly bourgeois grown-ups pop champagne and set-up hors d'oeuvres, toddlers run for the grass, so they can roll around and stain their white frocks and trousers. Students feel infinite and sophisticated because they are finally participating; a novel-like existence is playing-out before their eyes. Tourists flee lethargically, bewildered at the sight of hundreds and hundreds of white-clad dinner parties popping out of nowhere. 

The chaos descends to a buzz of light-chatter and delighted gasps, as people begin to eat, drink and be merry. Our table is bursting with wine, bread, home-made salads, dips and quiche. Our Parisian tells us she feels decadent, the Germans feel alive and I just feel overwhelmed with contentment. Everything in that moment is perfect. There is community, adventure, good food, good wine, music and travel all wrapped up in one single evening. There is friendly chatter amongst the tables, we exchange a photo with our floral crowns for a fistful of sparklers, everyone wants their picture taken, everyone wants to remember the joy and the beauty that currently surrounds them. 

When we can longer move and our stomachs start protruding out of our white frocks like soft, pregnant hills, we decide to take a walk through the tables. Everything is tightly packed, but refreshingly cool. We peer nosily over the fences of hair, hats and flowers to examine the table decor and choice of food. Some people have sushi, others have cake, most have bread and salad. We make it to the central patch of grass where a clarinet, trumpet, banjo and bass are plucking and hooting up a jazzy knees up. It looks like wedding, at which everyone is the bride. We excitedly join them, attempting to Charleston whilst holding on to our floral crowns, taking photos and giggling at the petals and leaves falling from our fringes. The sky turns a dusky rose and everything is tinged in a romantic haze. Somehow, it seems like the Cathedral is smiling. Everyone has a face full of hopeSuddenly the jazz stops jazzing and we float back to our tables to light candles, drink more wine and open up the desert boxes. 

Conversation is merry and candid and dreamy. We go from white, to rose, to red wine and eat homemade tiramasu. The candles start dripping, sparklers spark hot and spicily over empty plates whilst a choir sings on the steps of the museum. We slowly start packing away our things, to the sensual sounds of a dancing saxophonist, then with empty containers, collapsable furniture and one full bottle of wine under our arms, we part jovially and nostalgically into the night. I wonder past the other buildings on museum island, serenaded by an ever persistent busker and his spanish guitar, to the S-bahn feeling like a fairy queen, smelling like flowers and grass. I am sleepy, full and untouchable: Berlin has romanced me like never before. People smile, smirk and giggle at the dozing girl on the train, dressed in white, with flowers falling into her face. She doesn't care, nor will others like her, because it's nights like these that we live for. 

PARIS 21

After a pretty horrific 8 hour coach journey filled with snoring middle-aged men, I finally made it to the city of dreams. My 21st Birthday looked a little like this...

The generic ahhh 'ing' at all things Parisian. Hence the Metro photo.

The obligatory visit to Notre Dame, a little busier than last year, but still the prettiest cathedral in the world.

This cool hipster bookshop is a must-go for all book lovers. Don't buy anything new because their prices are extortionate, but I managed to find a cheeky second hand book of out-of-print french plays for five euro. Not bad, not bad. Kinda annoying that all the staff were American and only one of them spoke French, but the upstairs reading room is super cool and if you fancy meeting the future Hemmingway or Fitzgerald (who were American afterall) and playing a spot of chess than get yourself there and soak up the atmosphere.

The boys waited for Jessie in style. 

So did I...

Once meeting up with Jessie we hopped on the metro to my favourite spot in Paris. Montmartre. 

The light, the buildings, the music, the trees, everything was magic.

I definitely went on this.

Around the corner from the Sacre Coure is a tiny little art-gallery that serves delicious coffee and cakes. It's very un-touristy and we managed to catch a cheeky little local gig. We were so in with the locals.

MMMMAAACCARROOOOOOONNNSSSS.

We stocked up on steak and chips in a restaurant off the beaten track and headed to the hippest hang out in town (according to St. Christopher's Inn hostel) the International but it was too crowded so we went across the road to this awesome FUNK hang out (we were the only white people there, the dancing was awesome!) we then grabbed Mcdonalds pudding and headed to the Eiffel Tower for midnight in Paris. Woody Allen eat your heart out.

The next morning found us in St. Germain for a spot of breakfast.

It was the perfect Sunday morning kinda sunshine.

Another reasonably priced, beautifully decorated cafe with blankets on the tables outside and the perfect street view. 

Early afternoon saw us hit the Jewish quarter where Louis got scouted for a Japanese fashion magazine's 'Street Style' article, I bought postcards, Johnny made a friend and Jessie took photos.

Who needs a fancy bistro lunch when you can go to the supermarket buy rice-cakes, baguettes and cheese, then sit and eat them in the local park. Followed by one Mars bar shared by four. Classy.

Jess and I bought matching berets. I don't think we realised how twee it looked, because I could only ever see one person wearing a Raspberry beret. I still don't regret it: when in Paris, one must buy matching berets.

We hit the Louvre because it was free for European students. 

Poor Mona. She must get tired of all those annoying tourists. She's still pretty awesome though.

On our way to find some bikes to ride to the Eiffel tower. Another perfect evening in Paris.

 After much ado about nothing, we found ourselves on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower asking a man to take our picture. This was not the end, after this photo was taken we ran to the Mcdonalds on the Champs D'Elysee for a final calorie stock-up before the long coach ride home. 

I had the best time. If you're thinking about a quick trip to Pareeee I would definitely recommend the Megabus for cheap bus prices (Johnny, Jessie and Louis payed between £5-15 one way) and the fantastic St. Christopher's Inn hostel (the best hostel I have EVER visited). Try to keep off the beaten track to avoid touristy prices, I never paid more than €2 for a coffee, so make sure you don't get conned. 

AAHAHHHHHHHHHH I'm 21. I can no longer pretend to be a teenager.