I’ve been back in Perth since Wednesday 5th August. But I will continue to wallow in photos, and plunge myself back into the sights, sounds and smells of my French Extravaganza. Sunday Blog-wise, I’m still only up to Saturday 18th July on the trip, when I boarded the train to Paris from Chartres, car-less and once again burdened with my voluminous baggage. I reflected that the solo part of my trip was over, and from that point on, I had friends to continue the endless “comment ca marche?” (how does this work) moments of travel.
You know the kind; the alphanumeric code to open the main door of the accommodation, the numeric code to open the lock box to extract the key, negotiating the mysteries of tiny, cranky, intermittently working Parisian lifts, an idiosyncratic key to open the apartment door, and a hundred and one logistical questions about the features and appliances once you finally gain entry to the accommodation.
The week’s itinerary was Paris (again) for three nights, Rouen for three. The first of my two main priorities for the three-day Paris sojourn was the Renoir exhibition. I wanted to slip into the current of 1870s Paris and all the “fetes galantes” that were going on at that time that he so loved to paint. Plus, I have Dad’s old print of The Boating Party on my wall at home, and I just wanted that moment with the actual painting.
The second priority was Montmatre, sniffing out clues for my fictional hero of my next book project. I may have already mentioned that this character is inspired by my previous lifetime I had on earth as revealed in a past-life reading. I assumed she’d spent time in Montmatre, being such a rackety, bohemian type. As we emerged from a Montmatre restaurant on our last night, I was plunged into the thrill of a full-body resonance of having been there before. Perhaps I may be on the right track.
On the train from Paris to Rouen the next day, we checked in about our goals. My travelling companions are sisters and were seeking information about their ancestor; whereas I wanted to immerse myself in Rouen because I’m locating my character there for her early years from 1850-1862.
As well as the central attractions of Vieux Marche and Saint Maclou, I sought out the Musee de Corderie, a working factory in the hills of Rouen, in Caille valley which was once dotted with factories. And I couldn’t miss the quirky little Flaubert museum; Gustave Flaubert’s birthplace and family home, with a gallop through medical history as a nod to his father’s profession as surgeon of Rouen’s former Hotel Dieu hospital.
Also on our list was a day trip to visit Monet’s beloved Giverny where the lily ponds immortalised in his artwork are. When I first visited Rouen in 2024, I watched as Giverny flashed past us on the train to Paris. This time I wanted to visit this magical place, just a short train ride from Rouen. After a longish ride on the tourist train from the Giverny station to the stunning grounds and home of Giverny, we joined the conga line of people with the same idea. And yet we managed to get photos that looked like we were almost having a private tour, and the charm of Giverny couldn’t be erased by the throngs.
Our digs in Rouen were characterful and charming (see below) with a parquet floor that squeaked like a grand old wooden sailing ship on the high seas. This made it impossible to sneak around quietly at 4am so I could jump on a Zoom to do a three-minute pitch to a couple of literary agents.
But by travel companions tolerated this with equanimity and even sprinkled a little good luck, as one of the agents requested I send some material to read. I wouldn’t find this out until I was at the writing retreat which had formed the kernel of this whole trip and about which I will rave on about next week.
