Leaving Las Vegas

Elvis has left the building.**

As of 6pm today (well 6.45 by the time I finished clearing my cupboard), I no longer work for the OECD.
Wow.

Walking home from the metro tonight in the teeming rain, reflecting on my last day. I know a few people are probably wondering, what does it feel like to finish work at the OECD? After all, this was the first tangible round of goodbyes, to people I have seen week in, week out for years. After 3.7 years, it feels like the end of an era, but also the start of something.

The farewells started last week on a team retreat, and then continued with various coffees, lunches, and my final trip to the pool with my swimming buddy.

 I didn't know at all how my last day was going to feel, or how it would pan out. I had a list a mile long of things I wanted to tidy up and get squared away, and I have been pretty fixated on crossing things off this list for a few weeks now. But deep down I knew my last day wouldn't, couldn't be about that. I launched a new series of papers and sent out my final newsletter, so those were two big things that I could be justifiably proud of. And then I felt this wash of lightness, of release. After all, I only had a few hours left in the building. What was more important, filing every last scrap of paper or having a proper leave-taking?

So I went to lunch - for two hours. I didn't mean to. I had emailed the team the week before to say anyone who wants to join me for a sandwich in the park is welcome. But then summer has signally failed to arrive (ok weather gods, what's up this year - please!) and so I suggested the canteen. It's close, quick, relatively cheap, and coming from a culture with no institutional school lunches, but growing up on American sitcoms, I get a kick out of lining up with my tray.

But the team were having none of it, and dragged me out to a bakery / brasserie on posh Avenue Victor Hugo. Lots of big glass windows and light, surrounded by patisseries (millefeuille au cafe thank you very much!). And then that was when it hit me. How very very lucky I am, and have been, to work with such fantastic people. I think I have lost sight of that in the day to day grind, but the people at the OECD are some of the most talented, dedicated and warm human beings you hope to could come across.  The collegiality, the helpfulness, with no expectation of a quid pro quo - I have come across this before (especially at NZTE, where I am still in touch with a large number of kindred spirits) but what is stunning is how it is just endemic in such a huge organisation, despite the staggering workloads and for some, the uncertainty of employment in a project-based organisation. And sure, you meet some people along the way who haven't learned to play nicely with others, but you get that everywhere - and that's not what today was about.

Back at my desk I started writing a farewell email. There were so many people I wanted to thank, for their professionalism, but also their sheer warmth, which makes all the difference. I couldn't help include the proverb that is almost compulsory in any farewell email written by a Kiwi:

He aha te mea nui o te ao

What is the most important thing in the world?

He tangata, he tangata, he tangata

It is the people, it is the people, it is the people

And thinking partly about the high-stress situations we find ourselves in sometimes, me included, I added: Be kind to oneanother.

Well, I sent this out and kept clearing up my personal network folders. And then the emails started coming in, one after the other, faster than I could answer. People rang me to say goodbye. My team came in as they left for the weekend. The French "kiss on both cheeks" turned into proper Kiwi hugs. And the last two hours just turned into this wonderful celebration of all the fantastic people I have worked with over the last few years. I felt slightly bad that I didn't organise a larger farewell, but I am not sure I could have handled such an outpouring of emotion in one room. At one point I put down the phone and nearly cried "I take it back! I'm staying!!".

6pm came and went, and I was starting to feel reckless. I was meeting friends for dinner so I didn't have the luxury of time. Out went the years of archived notebooks, scribbles that only I could understand, draft reports that were finalised long ago. File, file, file, delete went the emails. Was the essential passed on? Yep. Would the world stop if I missed one thing? Nope. Luckily I was due to meet someone at the metro, so beyond a certain point I just had to go. I cleared the last few snacks and herbal tea bags out of my desk, gave up my badge, picked up the backpack with my flippers and sports towel, and walked out the door. And as I walked the short distance from the office to the metro, I ate my last madelaine.


So the short answer is that I feel happy and sad at the same time. Happy, because of the enormous luck I have had to meet and work with such great people. Sad that this is the moment I have to leave them all behind. But I know that the right thing for me is heading back to New Zealand. Going home feels like coming full circle and starting new adventures all at the same time.

And I know that I'll find a job that I will love almost as much back in New Zealand, managing web content in the public sector, with more incredible people. Because I'm lucky that way.

** not a reference to the horribly depressing movie with Nicholas Cage, but just the terribly catchy Sheryl Crow song, which always comes to mind at big life moments like these.

Kiwi As

A few weeks ago I set out to explore the Belleville neighbourhood (yes, as in Triplets of). It's not far from my place, but is further away from the centre of town so I don't go in that direction often. I knew there was a park, and a big immigrant community, particularly Chinese, but not much else.

Belleville metro is at the crossroads of four arrondissements, the 10th, 11th, 19th and 20th. In fact there's a building nearby with "Aux Quatre Arrondissements" carved in the stone across the front. It's the sort of area with a very active street life, people just hanging around for no apparent reason, and everyone seeming to co-exist reasonably peacefully.


(Some other triplets...)

The main drag, rue de Belleville, is lined with Asian restaurants - mostly Chinese, but some Thai and Japanese. But there are also little trendy cafes and a "fine products" deli, signs of encroaching gentrification.
I turned down a side street, and then another, and found myself at the bottom of Belleville park. It is unlike most other Parisian parks in that it spills down a hillside, and so has enticing pathways and staircases to climb, some of them overhung with cooling greenery.
 

It's a fair climb to the top by Paris standards, although nothing for any practiced Wellingtonian. But no matter how great the effort involved, it is totally worth it:

 

And if you're hot and bothered when you get up there, there's a great little cafe across the road: 

 There is also a community garden, with what may be grape vines (please bear in mind I am horticulturally ignorant).

The park is full of locals on a nice day, just hanging out and enjoying the sunshine. I did the same for a couple of hours. Then I decided to cut down a side street to take a different route home - and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw this place:

Yes you read it right, Kiwizine. Say it out loud... geddit?? Ah-hah. Turns out it's a collective run by a young New Zealand chef and his French wife. They started it with another couple who have since moved back to New Zealand. They are only open on Friday and Saturday nights, and they have one set price menu for 17.50, plus drinks. They do "cuisine du monde" and you eat whatever they feel like making. How extraordinary to stumble across this in Paris.

I knew I had to come here with a fellow Kiwi, so a couple of weeks later I rounded up the gang on a Saturday night and we came here for dinner. I called ahead to check the menu and luckily everyone could eat it. Tomato - mozzarella salad to start, then rack of lamb with grilled aubergine and finely diced vegetables, and strawberry pannacotta. Delicious.

Once we had eaten, we were still wide awake and it was a beautiful summer's evening, so we went up the top of the park for a view over the city by night.

L-R: Melissa, me, Josh, Gosia, Alina (photo taken by Dorian)

We came, we saw - and then we went across the road to the little cafe I mentioned earlier and found an empty table with a scrabble board sitting on it. I couldn't resist and forced everyone to play a game with me. Scrabble for six still takes a while so we were there until midnight. The cafe was buzzy and full of young locals having a great old time, half of them playing various other board games. I will freely admit that this may not be the glamorous Paris lifestyle you all think I lead, but it was the best night I've had in ages.

Meredith was in town visiting this weekend, and on a whim I took her to discover Kiwizine. They had seafood tacos (odd, bit it kind of worked), mackerel in a sweet and sour Malaysian-style sauce, with a VERY kiwi-style potato salad, and creme caramel. It was all delicious, and the main course was outstanding. We met Claire, the wife, and Jonno the chef came out from the kitchen to say hi. He's from Hamilton and after 9 years in France, his accent is still profoundly "cheers bro". He had just spent a month in Asia, which explains why I hadn't met him the first time, and also explains the Malaysian-style fish. Apparently the restaurant has been open for four years, and they live right around the corner from my current apartment. I'm leaving town in less than three weeks! Life is just not fair sometimes... but at least I have made this amazing discovery.

If you ever get the chance, I strongly urge you to go to Kiwizine. It's unique.

Hello Saturday morning

It’s late May and the weather still hasn’t settled down – 14 degrees one day, 21 the next – but the days are gradually getting longer and the light behind my blinds woke me up at 6.30 today. Instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, I got up and made coffee. Went for a little walk down to the bus stop to put someone on the bus for the Gare du Nord, and then to the bakery for a croissant. Sitting on the sofa right now with a second coffee, and croissant covered in almond butter.

[Incidentally, now that I live over in the 10th, the perfect house guest is one who goes to Coutume Café for lunch, and brings me back freshly ground Kenyan roast. Bye Fin! Was lovely having you to stay!]

We met up after work yesterday and went up the Arc de Triomphe for a wee peek at Paris. This was our backup plan after one of the lifts at the Eiffel Tower broke. Glad I found that out before we went, queues of up to two hours to go up, no thanks.

I love looking at Paris, I’ll never get sick of it, and the Arc de Triomphe is not too crowded. I love looking down the tree-lined avenues in all directions, and you get a nice view of the Eiffel Tower – close enough to appreciate how much it towers (ahem) over everything by a large factor.

Then we headed down to Trocadero for a bit of a closer look at the old lady from the esplanade. I love having visitors, especially people who have never been to Paris before. It reminds me of the thrill I got from coming round a corner and seeing Notre Dame for the first time, when I was 16, on a rainy Friday night.

Then on a bit of a hunch, we went to the Palais de Tokyo for dinner. The Palais de Tokyo is dedicated to modern art, which I can take or leave most days. But I had heard that the restaurant was excellent, and so it turned out. A big concrete space with high ceilings, it could have been like eating in a warehouse, but they did a good job with drop lighting and unobtrusive music to give it a nice atmosphere. The décor is very 70s, unless retro is the new modern – all white form-injected plastic chairs with brightly coloured fabric linings or individually painted.

The young and the beautiful were out for dinner – and some of them were serving it too. But the service was very professional, and the menu was classics with a modern twist. I had the multi-coloured beetroot carpaccio, cut paper-thin by some miracle of technology, served with a dollop of faisselle, sort of a cross between yoghurt and cottage cheese. Fin had the salmon carpaccio, and then we both had the lamb shanks confit with white beans pureed with parmesan. It was outstanding. The Vacqueyras red from the Rhone region was so good I had to write down the name – I’m not a wine expert at all, but I would definitely look for that one again. What a pity neither of us had room for dessert – the “100% dark chocolate, 100% satisfied or 100% reimbursed” was intriguing. Sleep? Who needs sleep?

Downsides of the Palais de Tokyo: Contrary to what I hoped, the restaurant doesn’t have a view of the Eiffel Tower. The toilet door handles are way too modern art for me and I couldn’t figure out how to work them. And even if you eat at the restaurant, you have to pay 8 euros to visit the collections. I don’t know much about art but I know I like food.

Getting up this early has its benefits. The streets are empty, the air is fresh, and Paris feels enchanting. I duck into the new café at the end of my street, the Piscine Saint-Louis. Done up in an old-fashioned style, but everything is brand spanking new from the black and white floor tiles to the wicker chairs and the zinc bar. There’s a barman drying glasses and one lone customer sipping a coffee. They do brunch on the weekend, a la carte, after 11am. But I’m much too early. So I head home with my croissant and make some more coffee.

Exit, pursued by a hare

My aunt and uncle very kindly bought me The Hare with Amber Eyes, by Edmund de Waal, for my birthday. If you haven’t read it, it’s the story of a collection of miniature Japanese carvings (netsuke) owned by his ancestors. The story of the collection is really the story of his family, as they purchase the carvings in Paris, send them to Vienna, and then through various wanderings they end up in his possession in London. I won’t spoil the story for you, as it has many twists and turns, but de Waal retraces his family’s steps through Europe and even to Japan.

The story proper starts in Paris, when the netsuke first come to the family’s grand house on the rue de Monceau. Today looked like being a beautiful day, so I took some notes from the book and went off on an adventure.For the full photos, see the album.

Shortly after Leo and Minna Ephrussi moved to Paris, their daughter Betty fell ill and died. So the family had to buy space in the Montmartre cemetery. 

The cemetery is in an old quarry, previously outside the city walls, but Paris has encircled it and in some cases run right over the top of it.

 I went searching - all I had to go on was that the Jewish quarter was on the Eastern side of the cemetery.

Hmmm, maybe I'm getting closer.

 Louise Cahen d'Anvers was the married lover of Charles Ephrussi, the son who bought the netsuke, so this might be her family tomb. It was very dark inside so I couldn't make out all the names.

Then I came across this tomb - Jules was another of Leo and Minna's sons.  Betty's daughter married Theodore Reinach, so Paul must have been one of their sons.

I wandered around for a bit after this, getting sore feet on the cobblestones and getting quite hungry too. I was just about to give up when I looked up and there it was:

The lighting is not good, but it says "Ephrussi Family". Inside are inscriptions for Betty and Minna. There are other words carved, but they are not in French and is worn down by time.

I didn't find where Charles was buried, or his father. Maybe they left Paris. I'll have to read the book again. I wandered around the cemetery a bit longer and saw some of their famous neighbours.

 Had lunch in this little park. Not sure how Hector would feel about being surrounded by a children's playground.

 81 rue Monceau, the home of the Ephrussi family.

 Apparently the ironwork represents double 'E's

 Further down the street is this very beautiful museum.

This has a very sad story. The owner, Moise de Camondo, spent years furnishing this house with beautiful things for his son. However the son, Nissin, was a pilot in WWI and was killed in aerial combat, so the father gave it to the French Government in his memory. The father died in 1935, and then his daughter, her husband and their children were all deported to Auschwitz in WWII. The house is exquisite, but so sad that the family is all gone.

 An entire room just for the porcelain...

Of course the room for the books is my favourite.

 The father's brother lived next door in this house which is apparently just as sumptuous.

Gates to the Parc Monceau.People doing what they usually do in Paris parks on a sunny Saturday - ignore the "Keep off the grass signs"...

 Graffiti on a nearby construction site.

Where to stay in Paris

aka, don't ask me, I only live here.

I have never paid for a hotel room in Paris. I came through here with a backpack a dozen years ago, but you don't want to stay where I stayed, trust me. But friends have stayed in the following and found them pretty good:

www.hoteltiquetonne.fr - near the wonderful market street rue Montorgeuil

www.hotel-eiffel.com - the Rive Gauche one is near rue Cler, which is another great market street.

These are fairly budget, but I walked past this place the other day and it looked pretty nice: www.legeneralhotel.com - near Republique and the Canal St Martin.

Or you could rent an apartment - this is a good site: www.paris-be-a-part-of-it.com

Or there's always my sofa...

The Top Ten Best Restaurants in Paris, updated

(That You’ve Never Heard Of)

I recommend booking ahead, or at least calling to make sure they’re not closed. Most of them are not super-cheap, but they’re all unique experiences.

L'alchemiste
181 rue de Charenton
Sorry 14 juillet, this is now my new favourite restaurant. Classic food, fresh ingredients, and refreshing variations (duck pastilla anyone?). Nice old-fashioned decor too. In a remote corner of the 12th but worth the trek - you won't be sorry. But you definitely need to book here.

14 Juillet
99 rue Didot, 14th arrondissement.
Traditional French with a twist.
Fantastic service, traditional food, but always with a bit of a twist. Generous portions, great wine, and a real welcoming atmosphere. Well off the tourist trail, only the locals know about this gem.

Chez l’ami Jean
27 rue Malar, 7th arrondissement
Basque with attitude
I speak French, but even I needed the menu translated. It was phrased in completely obscure food terms that I had never come across – sometimes this can be pretentious, but actually here is it more adventurous.

Fish la Boissonerie
69, rue de Seine, 6th arrondissement
French with an international twist.
New Zealand owned, but that’s not why I’m recommending it, Fish is one of my favourites. Three courses for 32 euros, high quality French food (with lots of fish) and the menu is printed every day. I take everyone here, because it’s so reliable. Highlight is the amazing wine list and the fresh Italian flat bread baked at Cosi across the road.

Le Grenier Voyageur
3 Rue Yves Toudic, 10th arrondissement
Exotic meat from around the world, cosy atmosphere. Reasonably priced. I recommend the zebra.

La Boussole
12 Rue Guisarde, 6th arrondissement.
Traditional French dishes with a touch of Moroccan spice. I take most people here and they love it.

La Domaine de Lintillac
10, rue Saint Augustin, 2nd arrondissement
I used to live just around the corner from the one in the 7th, so imagine my delight when I stumbled across the one in the 2nd. They also have them in the 9th and 16th. I don't usually do franchises, but what these people can't do with duck isn't worth doing... 

Le Mesturet
77, rue de Richelieu, 2nd arrondissement
Yet another team of young, enthusiastic staff with classic dishes with a twist... But I never get tired of eating this sort of food. It has my aunt and uncle's stamp of approval, which is saying something.  And their Paris-Brest is worth skipping an entree for.

Le Chartier
7, rue du Faubourg-Montmartre, 9th arrondissement.
Cheap and cheerful worker’s canteen food in art-nouveau setting. Get there early to beat the queues.

Yes, I know, that's only 9 - am still trying to think of another new one.

These are a few of my favourite things...

...to do in Paris - by popular demand. Some of these are a bit off the beaten track, but worthwhile.

• The hot air balloon over the Parc Andre Citroen
• Ping pong (yes I have the technology) and inspecting the beehives in the Luxembourg gardens -plus generally sunning oneself.
• The Pompidou centre (a fun building, great view from the top of the escalators, and good collections)
• Musee d'Orsay - they have completely redone the Impressionist rooms and the paintings are much better exhibited now. And the restaurant there looks fab.
• The chocolate museum
•  

• The sewer museum (not in summer)
• Aquaboulevard (indoors water park)
• Boat ride up and down the Seine on the batobus (hop-on, hop-off)

• Boat ride up the Canal St Martin, especially the spooky underground bit - and walking along the banks also.  
• Tour of the Opera Garnier - even better, go to the ballet there (but book about 3 months in advance)
• Generally wandering in the Marais - check out the Marche des Enfants Rouges.
• Museum of Natural History, featuring the giant squid caught in NZ waters - well it looked a bit small to me but never mind!
• The Museum of the History of Paris - medieval street signs, an entire jewellery shop reconstructed, and Revolutionary crockery
• The Promenade Plantee in the 12th - walk along an old railway line planted with
• La cité des sciences et de l'industrie. Film in the Géode (dans la grosse boule).
• Le musée des arts et métiers
• Musee de quai Branly
• Père Lachaise Cemetery
• Catacombs
• And wandering around Montmartre, the Butte aux Cailles, and the Buttes de Chaumont park.