We were glad we had the chance to visit Ljubljana and happy to leave as the warm weather crept in and Spring arrived along with blossoms in Slovenia. It certainly felt like we'd been there for longer than 3 odd weeks - aside from anything else there was snow on the mountains when we flew in and certainly no sign of it on our way out.

The flight to Paris was our first experience of LOT Polish airlines with a quick stop in Warsaw en route. Wow! We definitely enjoyed the experience and wouldn't hesitate to fly LOT again. We had a fabulous hot meal (one pork, one salmon), copious and free flowing bubbles, cognac, chocolate etc. Upon arrival in Paris, it took forever to get through traffic, roadwork and more traffic to get to the city and our host had to leave for a work do just 10 minutes before we finally arrived. It had been a loooong day already but due to our new doggo barking his head off behind a door we were only able to drop the bags off due to our host not being there to 'introduce' us to the pack. As far as Willie knew… we were food, not friends - what a fabulous guard dog he will be for us! Being able to drop bags off is always a blessing of course but we spent 3 odd hours strolling around and exploring the local area. That was a hard way to sober up indeed. Our host arrived late in the evening, 11 pm or so and we were formally introduced to Willie - our charge for the next month. Big sweetie. Then we collapsed in bed and figured we'd worry about unpacking, breakfast etc tomorrow. Lovely dog, stunning apartment and the 3rd is one of our favourite Parisian areas - close to the 1st, 2nd and 4th arrondissements and also close to the 10th for Moroccan chicken, Turkish bread and boulangeries that open on Sundays. Not to mention Republic Square - sometimes home to massive flea markets on a Sunday. We were hungover to the back teeth (if not further) after a big day of travel and a few hours of walking. We slept well.

We jumped into our Paris stay boots and all and headed to the Thursday market behind St Eustache church to see if our favourite African 'nonna food supplier was there. Nonna herself may have not survived covid, but her daughter and grand daughter are still pumping out some north African delights so we bought enough for a few dinners… then continued on. Next stop, because breakfast was a bit light on was Bouillon Pharamond - a Normandy style cheap eats place that has been our go-to for the last couple of visits. It did not disappoint and perked us up incredibly. We trundled home and settled in. Life is good.

Easter. Hell. When did that come around? Aside from a fondness for dark chocolate coated ginger eggs and a long standing fondness for 4 day weekends (which is less relevant when every day is a holiday) - Easter is barely on our radar these days. As it turns out, it doesn't mean much in Paris either - which we found strange given they are quite a strongly Catholic nation. So Easter Friday dawned and having run around like chooks the day before stocking up on groceries and fresh food to see us through the 'inevitable' Easter shut down… precisely nothing happened. Easter Friday was just, well, Friday. Saturday we took Willie out for a walk and tripped over a massive brocante/flea market at Les Halles/St Eustache. That was a fun find and we enjoyed the atmosphere and strolling around the stalls. The cherry blossom is out and in full swing - glorious! Whilst we enjoy the markets, it's not really a spot where the bargain of the century will be found - in our case that's usually at one of Paris's few thrift stores - the Red Cross near Republic Square in particular. But still, love a market. We stopped in at Picard (the gourmet frozen food chain of shops that we discovered years ago - usually our first port of call when in Paris), stocked up - fish pie, coquilles St Jacques for under the grill, spinach and salmon lasagne and rum and raisin gelato - scary that we actually have so many favourites from one shop - but never had a disappointing meal, that's for sure.

Easter Sunday saw us cut through Republic and walk up the canal to Marche de Joinville in the 18th arrondissement. Were it not for a cat-sit on the opposite side of the canal and getting to know this area at the end of 2021, we would probably never venture to the outer reaches of the inner city. But the prices! Not to mention it's like travelling through a portal to suddenly find ourselves in a foreign land full of people speaking Moroccan, Turkish, Arabic generally… and of course, French. There is also a boulangerie nearby and open on Sundays. We were loaded up (and loaded down) with tonnes of fresh fruit and veges and a baguette and made way, slowly, up the other side of the canal for the long walk home.

On the subject of bread (dear to every French person's heart), we are quite fussy with our bread when in Paris. We are usually happy to pick up a baguette at just about any boulangerie - but unless it is officially 'divine' we won't return. Had one just the other day that was chewy… not nearly as good as we expect here, so that was one less boulangerie to bother with. We now have three very reliable spots with a couple of backups on hand within our regular strolling zones. What a lucky position to be in. We visit one in particular down Rue Montorgueil and go out of our way to buy our lunch bread there every day (but it's closed on Sundays… sigh). We've also been going to the same cheese joint seemingly for 10 years - it's the set and forget option, a cheese tray mixture for 10 euro. This encourages us to try new cheeses and we discovered mimolette this way. By and large James tries new things and I turn my nose up and run screaming into the night on the basis that the cheese is hell bent on escaping its tray or the fridge and running amok. Walking Willie is no great imposition as strolling about and picking up baguettes, cheese, wine etc is one of our favourite things to do and though he doesn't like being left outside a shop with James, he is a tiny bit on the huge and threatening side to take into shops and markets. Great to walk with though - we've christened him Moses as he parts the crowds ahead of us so convincingly.

Before we knew it it was First Sunday of the Month and thus on 7 April we ventured out for Free Museum Day. We remember the olden days when it was just turn up and go in (albeit with a bit of queueing) - now it mostly has to be booked in advance and a time spot reserved - but it worked brilliantly for our entry to Musee d'Orsay. We are not as museum-fit as we once were but did spend a solid couple of hours including a visit to the Development of Impressionism exhibition. On top of the walk there and the walk back and two Willie walks we were stuffed. Monday proved to be a much easier day.

Our owner is now in HK and we are now locked in to a return date to Sydney. The miracles of the frequent flyer points and miles game finally kicked in and after weeks religiously checking every possible option to get out of Paris (or pretty much any other airport in Europe if it meant flying Qatar) we sat down one day to rebook a held reservation out of Amsterdam that the system had cancelled on us. Why would the system cancel? Well we also had holds on itineraries out of Belgrade and Cyprus. We really love flying Qatar - and these similar itineraries are known as 'duplicates' and upset the system, apparently. We'd had itineraries booked on British Airways from Brussels to Heathrow to Singapore to Sydney - but I'd rather fly almost anyone else - and it meant getting to Brussels. With a nod to our luggage it was certainly not our first choice. The we'd locked in an option out of Paris on Etihad (or Edibad) as I've now christened them. Once it was a confirmed reseration and the taxes were paid, we logged on to choose seats and found that lounge access wasn't included and the luggage for each of us was only 20 kg. H'uh. Would have been another $1500 to turn this sow's ear of a miles redemption into a semi-functioning premium flight. So cancelled that. Anyway, out of nowhere and rather magically as I sat down to rebook the least worst option out of Amsterdam - I looked at the Paris to Sydney search and 'lo - like a bright star in the night sky there were two seats on Qsuites just three days after we finish here, to Doha (taking a day there to regroup) and on to Sydney. We are both looking forward to stepping foot in Doha as opposed to just being in the airport eco-system - as much as it's a stunning place to be. Magic. That's what frequent flyer miles are with all their inherent flexibility to book and cancel until you reach the nirvana of bookings.

Style in Paris in something that creeps into your daily existence. It's not to say everyone is stylish - there are always 250 pound / 125+kg tourists in shorts and t-shirts that we can only hope have been stress tested. We are by no means Vogue models - but if there is one place in the world where you look in the mirror before you leave the house, this is it. Walking down the street is people watching central and one of our nearby streets, Rue St Denis, is a constant source of entertainment. It is mainly a wholesale fashion quarter though it looks and feels like a regular shopping street - but the signs that trip people up are 'Gros Pas Retail' - or words to that effect. Stop looking in our windows, we're not going to sell it to you unless in Wholesale quantities. The street is a hive of activity from early in the day with porters, trollies and dollies ready to deliver masses of cartons to and from the various storefronts, in and out of covered passages and so forth. Probably just to get me out of the shop I did find a lovely stockist of long linen frocks which are my summer travel mainstay and hard to find in Sydney. The last one that was perfect was worn to death, rotting apart, frayed and worn out and offloaded in Hanoi - so I bought a couple (or four) and had a chat about the various stockists who order from them and are based in Sydney. There was also a vintage shop along St Denis that managed to sell us 4 extra jackets - because 2 checked bags each might not be enough.

So Paris - bread, style and obviously constant shopping… those checked bags did not fill themselves. We saw on a leaflet at the Easter brocante in Les Halles that there was another forthcoming market date in the St Paul/Bastille area and we thought… why not. We even took Willie for a long, slow meander, down one side of Rue de Rivoli and up the other. Long Walk. Very, long walk. Willie was a funny wee man the whole way - so I could get in amongst the tables and fossick a bit, James and Willie would cruise around the edge of the tables where I was - lots of well behaved dogs at the market. And if I lost sight of them or them of me, just a whistle and he would magically appear and check that all was well. It was also the first hot day of the season - the scent of roasting stall holders was thick in the air - especially on the sunny side of the street. It was a nice walk from home to get there, a long walk whilst 'there' and then a seemingly endless walk home - everybodys feets were hurting. This was in fact the day we almost broke the dog - when it was time for his evening walk he feigned sleep and then later just wanted a downstairs-to-the-power-pole-and-back visit. Funny as. Picked up a vintage brooch for €3 - costume, but beautifully made and a good memory of the longest walk ever. A few days later we headed to Republic for a Sunday baguette and initially thought, from a distance, that it was a particularly large protest - there is, quite literally, someone bleating about something almost constantly. The bleating can precede a strike. Or be a 'just because' bleat. In fairness - it was not a bleating session but a massive, filled up the entire Republic Square flea market. Repeat after me, Repeat after me, Repeat after me. No buying anything. Especially jackets. So we took Willie and the baguette home for lunch in civilised peace and tranquillity, parked Willie on his bed for a couple of hours and meandered back in order not to buy anything. I was relatively determined but then James got into a box labelled €5. And pulled out a brown leather jacket (which I don't have). I figured I wouldn't like it. But I did. I figured it would have a rip or hole or stain or something. But it didn't. I guessed it wouldn't fit. But it did. And she was lovely and it was €5 and having done the odd car boot sale ourselves, we felt we owe it to buy something when it's a good deal, just so the stall holder doesn't have to pack it again. Also bought a shell box made from a cowrie. No excuses… it's one of my many collectable things and fits loosely between the shell collection and the little box collection (cowrie etui or thimble holder if you're googling this).

Whilst flea market stall holders are a highly deserving cause, we also trundle past the local Red Cross on a far too regular basis and as is usually the case, had pretty much given up - no great jewellery, in fact, thin pickings. Right up until the morning it wasn't and I bought a couple of fabulous silver cuff bangles. Funnily enough, I was so focussed on my new treasures, there was a bangle in the window I didn't think to ask to look at - it was still there the following day and still silver… bought it then and just amazed it was still there! Very good memories indeed - and also a good cause. One of our other fave finds at the Red Cross was in the window for a while and then when no one bought it, relegated to a shelf - I finally decided to look closely and it was a hand made, artisan leather Cat mask from Venice with a handwritten certificate of authenticity inside… Now the problem is not the size or amount of the checked bags… it's keeping all the treasures in the carry on bag safe and sound - mask, snuff bottle, little boxes, shells, little shell boxes, jewellery. Heaven forbid our flight ever gets delayed - far from having a spare outfit in my bag, I'll be lucky to have spare knickers - but will definitely be able to put on fresh jewellery.

Our time in Paris was drawing to a close and we don't know when we'll be back (will be back of course, just don't know when). The city is gathering steam and barrelling towards the 2024 Olympics with around 3 months to go. Anything that can be gussied up, has been or is in the process of being. Any road than can be dug up has been. Traffic is a nightmare, walking is challenging and yet - it will all be done it time, it always is (having lived through the lead up to the 2000 Olympics in Sydney). It seemed busier by the day and almost as if the games were about to start. We treated ourselves to the funicular ride up to Montmartre one day, just for a change of scenery and the hordes were horrendous. We took a long and meandering stroll down, and cruised home via the Moulin Rouge - one day, when the lotto fairy visits, definitely want to go to a show there. (Funnily enough, just 3 days later, the windmill sails come down with a crash at about 3 am - no doubt it will be fixed quick smart but lucky we saw it when we did). On a wander around the Ile de Cite and Ile St Louis, it was great to see the rebuilding of Notre Dame coming long nicely. I think they've given up on having that one finished in time, but the initial deadline has certainly put a cracker under them. We've now seen the Seine in full flood and it still seems incomprehensible anyone would be mad enough to swim in that for the Olympic Triathlon. But Stranger Things and all. We were packing as we went along and whittling our possessions around the house into a central manageable pile. Everything was running on track, our lovely host was back from her travels on the Sunday and kindly let us stay for a few days so we could fly out on the Thursday night - which was super - really didn't want to decamp, repack etc. All was well. What could possibly go wrong?

The shock of an email the morning of our Thursday evening flight that we were now, apparently, flying out of Brussels, Belgium and on Friday had to be seen to be believed. I don't think so! Turns out that on the Wednesday evening, the French air traffic controllers decided to have a strike at very short notice… nothing better to do apparently. They announced on the Wednesday evening that they would be striking on the Thursday. The airport launched into action and told the airlnes to cancel their flights on Thursday as they'd only have a skeleton staff to control the skies. Therefore 65% of the flights out of Paris on the Thursday were cancelled including ours - and the Qatar Airways computer decided that it was honour-bound to rebook us as soon as possible - so changed our flight to one departing from Brussels late Friday afternoon. Aside from anything else we had over 100kg of luggage - whilst jumping onto a train to Brussels is usually no drama, with a handbag perhaps, it simply could not happen with our bags. An hour or so on the phone with Qatar in London and they called back to say they'd fitted us onto the Friday night flight departing Paris - same bat time, same bat channel, same aircraft as we should have been on on the Thursday night. Yippee! And of course the short notice strike had also been short notice cancelled - must have been a quiet day at CDG with only 35% of scheduled flights departing!

Of course we were due to be leaving the Paris apartment on Thursday at 6 pm and the thought of departing, getting a hotel or apartment for one night was diabolical - our lovely host said don't worry about it - the new sitters aren't arriving until tomorrow at 6 am - just stay and hand over with them. So that worked - we were up at 5 am - changing the sheets and sweeping - their crackpot plan of an early bus arrival however ran 2 hours late and they didn't get in til 8 am (about 10 minutes before our host ran to catch her train to London). We took ourselves off with Willie for a farewell walk, went out to Pharamond for a final French lunch to see us through until we reached the airport lounge and felt a little bit sad - but also exceptionally happy that we'd dodged the Brussels bullet and would be flying out as scheduled - just 24 hours later than planned. We even had a long afternoon kip - wanted to store up some energy for eating, drinking and movie watching on the plane. The trip to the airport was brilliant - an Uber through the back blocks of the Paris periphery with a lovely driver from Tunisia who was completely unrattled by the traffic. We arrived at the airport to find check-in had opened earlier than the scheduled 3 hours prior to the flight to try and work through the backlog caused by the cancelled not-the-strike - but still - we shot through the 'priority everything' routine and were in the lounge for champagne and dinner in no time flat. It was our first visit to the Qatar Premium Lounge and since they only have 2 flights a day from CDG it was definitely a boutique experience - even an open deck to go out for fresh air and plane spotting. We took care of some admin, printed our booking for the stopover in Doha and relaxed. Boy, did we relax. All was well and the planets had aligned, 24 hours later than planned we were exactly where we need to be… Sydney, here we come.