An oasis in the suburbs of Paris

We had a bit of time to kill before our departure from Barbizon, so a coffee was in order in a stunning pattiserie owned by a Japanese Michellen star pastry chef. The coffee was out of a Nespresso machine and was OK, and full credit for recognising that barista skills was not her forte. Her pastries on the other hand were out of this world - to look at, that is. With a price tag of €7.50 ($12.30), for a single chocolate eclair, I settled for my favourite pain de raison with my coffee and the total cost was less than the eclair and coffee combined.

We also witnessed, the French drivers patience at its absolute best. There was a black SUV parked in the middle of the narrow one way main street of Barbizon, and the drivers door was open with no one in sight. Two cars were politely waiting behind it for almost 5 mins, when the driver appeared with a parcel opened his boot, secured the parcel and then quietly drove off. There was no tooting of horns, yelling of abuse or road rage, patience is just a learned skill in France, and I think it starts from a very early age.
The firemen were still at the gateway to the Fontainbleu Forest, at the end of the street. Little did they know what lay ahead.

It was a very hot day and we made our way into the outskirts of Paris to our catsit in a suburb called Chevilly Larue. We are in charge of Havana, who we were warned, doesn't do much except lie around in the garden when it is so hot.
While the owners were finishing off their work commitments, and final packing we headed down to the local shops for some supplies, had a burger at Nelsons Cafe, and then returned to wave them goodbye.

Not long after this Roger hits the wall with a belly bug, and heads to bed. We have set our alarm for 3.15am, to liaise with the family who have gathered in Buderim to farewell Zena. There's only a handful of Zena's friends, not surprisingly given she had outlived most of them, but they enjoyed a chat and Jenny led a fitting and funny tribute to the 'force' that was Nana Zena. RIP. A few more hours sleep before the cleaning lady rocked up at 10.00am. Sadly, we had to cancel our planned lunch in Paris with Kevin and Robin, as Roger was feeling far too fragile, and instead hunkered down inside to escape the 37 degree heat and catchup on some sleep. We ended up having a quiet weekend, only managing a brief walk down to the local market for some fresh fruit and veges. We are only a few kilometres from the Rungis International Market which is the principal wholesale market of Paris and mainly deals in food and horticultural products. With an area of 232 hectares, it is the second largest wholesale food market in the world, and we wonder if the very low prices for our fruit and vegs, no more than €1.50 per kg on average, is due to the close proximity. Some light healthy sustenance soon improves the patient and fortunately, he is back to normal by Sunday.

Our house in the Paris suburbs is like an oasis, with a large garden, big shady trees and even some veges growing. Havana the pussycat rules the patch and keeps the numerous neighbourhood cats at bay. The house is large and very comfortable, and given the shutters have been down all week it is reasonably cool. Luckily our bedroom is in the basement, and its like a wine cave with only a tiny window, covered in black plastic. Its the coolest place in the house. We also brought our fan from LPR as word was out, there were no fans or aircons to be found in France and while we don't mind the heat, we are used to fans and they are not usually found in French houses.Read more