If you haven't already I highly recommend you give it a listen.
One of the most flawless albums I have ever listened to.
Here is a taste of some of my favourite tracks.
Old Pine
Diamonds
The wolves
Only love (This is my favourite song by Ben Howard and this is my favourite version of it which is sadly not on the album. But it is filmed in Paris which makes it even more beautiful)
The fear
Black Flies
Gracious
Promise (I love this song but I hate the minute build up of what sounds like rustling shopping bags)
Under the same sun
Bones
I will be blessed
Ben has such an incredible talent. The lyrics to all of these songs are so incredibly beautiful. Every song feels like falling in love and being already in love listening to these lyrics just makes me so desperately homesick.
Taken from excerpts of a diary I wrote whilst in Paris.
"Bonjour,
I am currently
sitting under the Eiffel Tower eating a croissant. I am a little upset with the
weather, when I left this morning it was nice and sunny so I decided to wear my
Zara shorts and a singlet. When I was walking to the Eiffel Tower (I love the
fact I can walk to it!) I think an old lady told me off in French. I assume she
was telling me off because she sounded angry and seemed to be pointing a lot.
Probably a good thing I couldn’t understand her.
I am not sure what to
do today. I am honestly broke unless I can locate an atm that will accept my
card. I think I will save Paris for my last day and just take everything with
me and put it in the cloak room. Side
note: Everyone here really loves to wear Abercrombie & Fitch.
I’m off to do some
adventuring.
Au Revoir"
I am sitting in front
of the Pompidou Centre, the sun is shining but every time I take my cardigan
off the clouds come out #firstworldproblems. The violinist me is playing La Vie
En Rose and I am blissfully happy. Now he is playing a famous ballroom dancing
song, maybe Tchaikovsky I am not sure what specific song it is, but it is so
enchanting.
My plan today was not
to have a plan and just walk and explore. I did for a while then realized if I
came to Paris and didn’t go to the Pompidou Centre my high school art teacher
would not be pleased. Obviously she wouldn’t know but I feel that I should put
at least some knowledge she passed on to me into practice.
I am surrounded by
French boys and girls sitting eating baguettes with pigeons fluttering around
and children running and laughing in their miniature Abercrombie and Fitch
outfits, this feels like Paris.
I am so happy I just
found out there is a Salvador Dali museum in Montmartre! It hosts a huge
collection or paintings, drawings ad sculptures of my favorite artist of all
time! It is a bit far away from me at the moment but luckily unlike every other
museum here, it is open Tuesday. Well I know what I’m doing tomorrow.
But right now I am
going to get my art freak on in the Pompidou.
Au Revoir
"Didn’t make it to the Pompidou.
Well I went in there. Got a tea so I could sit and use the wifi to see if
Morgan or Kaitlin were around. Ended up spilling the boiling water all over
myself and the table which was great obviously. Ordering tea wasn’t as pleasant
of an experience as usual. Morgan messaged me to come and meet her at the
Louvre to do a shoot. I had already paid for my ticket to the Pompidou but it
was open late so why not. It will be nice seeing the view from the top of the
Pompidou in the afternoon anyway."
I just did a little
shoot with Morgan at a Palais Royal near the Louvre. It was really great, I
love shoots they are so much fun. I would really love to get into Editorial
modeling but then again that’s about as likely as a pig becoming president.
Morgan has left now
to do a shoot for college with an ACTUAL model. I am meeting her after. She
left me at the cutest café so I definitely do not mind waiting. It’s called “Tea
by the __”. And whilst looking through the menu an American couple suggested
for me to get the “honeymoon” tea which was superb! And I also got two
macaroons, Pistachio and salted caramel, my all time favorites. Whilst waiting
for our teas the American’s and I chatted. They are catching the train in a couple
of hours and actually came here specifically to have another one of these teas
before they left. They had bought a wifi card but didn’t need it so they gave
it to me which was so nice. They also suggested I check out the Galleries,
particularly the food court. I would love to but at the moment I am genuinely
concerned that I won’t have somewhere to sleep for the next couple of nights......
Right at this exact
moment I am sitting outside on the typical French café chairs that face
outwards and I am people watching. There are people inline skating/
rollerblading in front of the Lourve. One in particular is wearing a suit shirt
and vest and has a cane. I am listening to Jazz music and the skater is in
exact time with the music, it is so mesmerizing.
And now I am thinking
to myself how completely lost I would be if my bag were to be stolen. My
passport and train ticket back to London, everything would be gone. Not too
worried about the money just more the fact of not being able to get back to
London, and more importantly Australia in the hopefully near future. I miss
home ever so much. I wish I could glue my passport to me, at least until I get
back to Australia. Imagine if we all had UV tattoos on our wrists. Similar to
what they have in the movie “In time” or what I assume the daily tattoos would
look like in the book Mockingjay, the third in the Hunger Game series.
I am slightly anxious
about the idea of having something stolen. And it isn’t helping having the
constant reminders everywhere you turn of the immediate dangers of pickpockets’
and how common they are in Paris. Whilst on the subject, a little story Kaitlin
told me last night. Her and her friend were sitting in a café with their phones
on the table and some beggar children came over with signs in French and the
girls could not understand what they were saying. They told the children to go
and once they did Kaitlin’s friend noticed her phone was missing. The kid’s had
taken both girls phones!
It is just such an
upsetting story. I hate how personnel all of my electronics are. I mean if I
lost them it wouldn’t really matter. Well sure it’s money down the drain but
because they contain so many personnel memories, photographs, notes and
everything it makes it so much harder to part with. Especially considering my
phone contains texts from like 2009. It’s like a diary in itself.
Au Revoir
"Ok Morgan came back
and we caught the Metro together to the Centre Pompidou. We got off at the
wrong exit and got lost for a while. Which I feel made our little adventure
together even more meaningful. We found a record shop with amazing classics and
huge vintage movie posters. It was quite beautifully eccentric. As was the
other shop we found. It was called Planet 70 and it was a darling little second
hand vintage store. The store owner was quite sweet and was happy to let us
take photos in there thinking we were for a magazine or something.
Au Revoir"
Sadly this is where
my personnel diary accounts of what happened at the time stop. Although that
doesn’t mean my diary is empty. For my last post I will photograph the pages
where my new found friends wrote little beautiful entries for me which are so
incredibly lovely. But for now I will continue to tell the story of my
beautiful adventure in Paris and the lovely people I met along the way.
M & I having fun with the ridiculous amount of pigeons hanging out in front of the Pompidou.
I really adore these skull salt and pepper shakers.
Street artist kindly letting me take a photo of him
Hot dogs with a heart crippling amount of Fromage
M and I got some crepes and I got an agrumi because it felt very french and we sat together in the square and she wrote a lovely little entry in my diary.
Gradual photos taken as we ascended the escalator to the top of the escalator. Because that is the only way to experience the Pompidou, ride the escalator to the top and snake your way gradually back down to the floor level.
Whilst M and I were trying to get a nice photo of my tattoo with the view in the background (which sadly we didn't get) a boy complimented M's creative direction. It was a "tall dark curly haired hipster called Quentin who was studying film making I think. He was constantly filming random parts of our conversations and things that we were doing for the whole trip. He was documenting his trip with Nima. Who had a thick black moustache and an undercut and would most likely play a mexican drug lord if he were to ever be in a film. Both of these gentleman were quite lovely and I couldn't believe how many creative people I had met in 2 days of being in Paris. Quentin and Nima were lucky enough to be escorted around Paris by the lovely French Elodie.
Back of door in the toilets, cheers.
View of Montmartre at sunset from the top of the Pompidou
New travel companions.
Nima - San Francisco (he actually had mutual friends with Morgan! Small world!)
Quentin - Los Angeles
Elodie - Paris
Sydney
Texas
I really loved this artwork. I know I have already spoken about impressionism reminding me of dream but this reminds me of the process of dreams. 1. The dream itself, blurry and strange and hauntingly beautiful. 2. When you wake up things start to get blurry. 3. You try to document the dream you just had, write down as much as you can. 4. What you write about the dream.
This confused me a lot. If you can see on the window the letters drawn in. You know the kind of thing you do on dusty cars or foggy bus windows. Well this was on the outside of the window. How is that possible!!
This artwork was about conversation intertwining and crossing over one another. I thought it was quite an interesting concept and it was interesting the different conversation threads.
Sadly it came to closing time. I had spent most of the time goofing around with Nima in the installations we barely even got to see much of the art.
Directions to the hostel I was staying in that night because I really had no clue. Basically I would have to go back to the hostel I stayed in the previous night, get my bag and head to the next hostel. Yer I am great at planning.
People having a picnic in the Pompidou square. This is what Paris really looks like and it is so lovely. Makes me want to pack up my life and just move here and live happy and free.
We all decided to head over to where Quentin and Nima were staying at the Crowne Plaze Hotel in Republique. Elodie sadly went home.
A shirt that they made with their friends. Which is pretty accurate however you look at it.
We went into the street, bought some wine and smoked cigarettes as Paris is the only place it is acceptable to be cliche without giving a dam.
Is anyone else as disturbed by this soft drink advertisement as I am?
This is the only photo of the new American friend I was introduced to that night Marie. She is a very good bike rider and has a large heart tattoo across her chest which is so captivating to look at.
We all sat together drunk wine and they told me about life in San Francisco and Los Angeles and I already want to move to both places. If I were to ever be an animal it would have to be a bird. I would settle and build a nest and then the next day fly somewhere else. Never satisfied, always wanting to go somewhere new.
One thing I remember that was a huge culture shock to me was hearing how much everyone loved riding bikes. It was so foreign to me and the only thing you really hear about bike riders in Sydney is that we hate them being on the road with us. But no one really rides in Sydney. Everything is too spaced out and far away unlike Paris. Everyone rides bikes in Paris. And why wouldn't you. It is such a beautiful way to travel in a beautiful city. I just couldn't believe how into bike riding my new American friends were and how normal it was. I felt so out of place. They all knew different bike types, wheel sizes and shapes, materials. I was just happy digesting all this new found information.
Morgan had to leave and that was sadly that last time I saw her but it was more then a pleasure to have had the opportunity to meet her and spend time with her and her creativity. Marie had to leave also. I magically transformed that night into a stray puppy and ended up being adopted and spending the night in the hotel with Nima and Quentin. No more hostels for Erica, I was with the high rollers now. I felt like Annie when she gets adopted by Oliver Warbucks. I like to imagine that a song and dance followed this new arrangement although I think any singing would have been more drunken ramblings before we all drunkenly passed out into our happy wine induced slumbers. Although for the sake of embellishment underneath is a pretty accurate portrayal of how I felt at the time being 1 Broke Girl from London.
