“Hear that honey?”, said I as we sat at our little boulengerie sipping back the first coffee for the day. “Mmmm” said Di, a sigh expressing her deep involvement with an almond croissant. “That whistling, that’s the sound of a Triumph triple, a Tiger like ours even. Look, there, a Tiger XrT, see”. “That’s nice darling”.
So many motorbikes in Paris and I confess I’m just excited as looking at those as I am Paris. Maybe not quite that much. It makes sense though, with so many people and so few parking spaces. Anyhoo, Di’s having to put up with me doing the “look at that” with every bike that passes – and there are a lot!
We metro’d it to Monte Martre today, the stair case out of the railway station does about six rotations and by the top your quads are on fire. Wound our way up to the top finding a lovely little garden where we sat and enjoyed the quiet for awhile then to the oldest remaining vineyard in Paris (yes there are others). It’s a stunning place. Beautiful old whitewashed stone building where artists once lived and worked. From the (recreated) artists workshop there’s a view over the garden out to the city of Paris.
There’s a small wilderness created by nuns from land bequeathed to them, the vineyard of course, and a beautiful little garden that the cafe opens on to. Not really little, perhaps four double garages in size, bowling green lawn, the white washed stone walls on either side lead your eyes to the bottom of the garden and the wilderness. Through trees you get glimpses of the vast space higher over the city.
We had tea there and watched this incredible waiter running the cafe; cooking, serving, waiting, sorting the bill solo without getting flustered. Twas very impressive.
We wandered briefly through the touristy bits then started back down hill. Di had read about another nice little place to go but after a few double backs we’d pretty much given up. Bowing our heads in defeat we noticed a chalked sign on the pavement “Hotel Particular”. Following a small trail of “HP”s and arrows we found ourselves wandering along a narrow cobbled path hemmed in first by stone walls then by garden.
Hotel Particular is a five bedroom 700 something euro per night place with views over Paris. The private walled garden sits nestled in amongst other old buildings hidden by trees and shrubs. The young men and women serving are all in burgundy trousers or skirts and all gorgeous. It feels a bit like walking onto a bond set. We had a few wines there chatting to Sally and from the UK who were there for a night or two. There was a very fat chook who lived in the garden and came around regularly to check for snacks.
Back down the hill, a stop for dinner in one of many street side bistros in the area then a beautiful evening stroll on down to the river, the twilight holding till well after nine. Cab home from there as we were too pooped from the steeps of monte matre to leg it up to Montparnasse.