Then across the pond to Paris
Weeks seven and eight got weird - kicking off in Paris, winding up in Hong Kong and bidding farewell to the babes in Kensal Rise in between. I still haven’t met a Russian and am no clearer whether lip balm is a cream or a liquid or at what point a cream becomes a liquid or when served scones which should technically be spread first – the jam or the cream – or if it matters.
Arriving in Hong Kong the six senses onslaught almost made me forget anything could have come before. But I was flung back to Paris when our taxi driver shouted “Lady! Lady!” his tugging action on his seatbelt clear he was going nowhere unless we click clack. I remembered that woman in the marche aux puces just off the Paris ring road calling “Pepe! Pepe! C’est combien?” and before he could answer, her shouts of “Marco! Marco! C’est combien le projecteur?” and I remembered I smiled as I was happy and I saw it all before me, my retirement, market-day chit-chat, my feet up, selling bric-a-brac - the cutest fluffiest dog in all of the 14th sitting on my lap. The language faux pas in Paris were many, my worst when I forgot pommes frites, instead requesting “chippy chippy” as if it came close.
Later at Dim Sum on the Kowloon side where Alan and I were the only gweilo in the reception-centre style establishment, the waitress asked “saucy saucy?” And where as that day I managed to navigate chilli oil, vinegar, soy, dumplings, chopsticks the lot, it was day one of Art Basel wearing new expensive crisp white t-shirt as part of ‘sophisticated yet cool’ ensemble that I managed to amass three large pools of basil oil on my front without even realising. Leaving the breakfast I looked at my chest aghast (for I hadn’t even eaten any of the basil oil)... Thankfully while I had a mini meltdown, Nicola and Jemma went into overdrive hunting down a cheap white T in Cotton On, getting me changed and to the fair on time.
There was Art in Paris too. And I got stung by a bee. My shock at which drew the attention of the American. And resulted in an interesting morning of philosophy ping pong at Ten Belles in the 10th. Sat between Alex and the American it kicked off with does a bee have awareness/consciousness, quickly shifting to cows and their capacity to reason, a debate regarding the merits of the squid and/or octopedes and any advantages/disadvantages of a decentralised nervous system. Then they got onto Descartes and the big boys and I stayed quiet and sucked on my pink swelling finger. Ah travel. It’s all been ridiculously good and I’ve been thoroughly spoilt by absolutely everyone. Incredible birthday in Paris, party in London, more dinners and drinks in Hongkers! Crazy, one week to go.
Hirschorn's Palais de Tokyo takeover.