Day 2- Uncle Louie

After breakfast we lay back waiting for Bec's uncle to show up at our apartment.  Solomon found the Juliette balcony, but i dont think he understood the concept as he bounced and yelled with such vigor, a french lady below stopped and yelled back at him.  I was frantically scouring through my french dictionary trying to translate their conversation.  As Solomon stood there blaring out at Paris, a man walked up to the balcony with an inquisitive gaze.  Though normally, i would have been suspicious, the man looked EXACTLY like my wife in 50 years so i knew it must be her fabled uncle Louie. 

We sat down for some time getting acquainted, than we left for his apartment in Kremlin Bicetre, just outside of Paris.  Louie doesnt have a car, so his apartment was two short bus trips ahead.  As the day was quite overcast and cold, i put on a warm coat so as to maintain my body heat against the cold wind and rain- as most of us have done so many times before.  Bec seemed to think we were walking to the Carribean Island of Jamaica and wore thongs and a t-shirt.  As i walked confidently and excited behind ole Uncle Louie, Bec, teeth chattering, followed behind us with the pram, slowly turning a shade of blue, held out a silent hope that the driving rain and icy wind would give way to....a beach.

We got to Uncle Louie's apartment block which required us to climb a few narrow stairs to a lift which was literally 1/2 a square meter, than exit on level 5 and climb some more stairs to his apartment.  I guess France didn't get the memo regarding the concept of lifts.  The apartment was about 8m2, you literally could not pass someone at any point in the house.  The order you walked in the unit, was the order you had to remain in until you left.  If someone wanted to go to the toilet, we would all shuffle toward the toilet until said person reached the door.  It felt very much like that car parking game where you need to move the cars and trucks out of the way to get your car out of the parking lot- except level 500.

As Louie prepared us some lunch, Solomon destroyed anything in the apartment that wasnt bolted to the ceiling.  In this environment, Solomon had a rare advantage where he could evade my angry pursuit very easily by slipping through the feet of a chair, table or another person and destroy or eat as much as he could before i could contortionist my way through the apartment toward him.

Finally lunch was ready, and i was starving.  Uncle Louie made us a French version of 'baked Chicken and Potato' with garlic ad lemon.  Whats the French version taste like Mathew? i hear you eagerly inquire.  Well, my friends, the French version is exactly like your mums version, except without any flavour.

After lunch, we decided it was very important to go shopping to find some weather appropriate attire for my dear lovely wife and Speedy McCrawly son.  Uncle Louie took us to a commercial centre called.......'centre commercial'- i guess the owner was not very creative, or just didnt give a fuck. 

The shopping centre was in a place called Place D'italie but was no where near the standard we have in Australia.  The floor tiles were stained, scruffy and dirty and the shop fit outs were average.  What stood out as the biggest difference between this shopping complex and those in Australia, was the smell of stagnant piss which filled the air.  Quite Ironically, the toilets costed 1E to use and were incredibly clean.  We shopped at Zara Paris, though much more modestly than at New York (thank God), where Bec bought an overcoat and some closed shoes and Solomon bought a few jumpers and a sports coat. 

Now that we were properly equipped, we decided to walk home from the shopping centre and take in the surrounding neighborhood.