We then met up with Uncle Louie and his wife Veronica for a leisurely and educated stroll around the Seine River. We strolled through the lovely sunday markets which included a huge variety of second hand books, flowers, pets and other touristy knick knacks. We made our way to Sainte Chappelle which is a church built by a french king with the intention of holding the ancient relics of the Passion of Christ.
As they walked in front of us, Uncle Louie swings his walking stick at his wife as she giggles and jumps an evasive skip in playful banter, a truly sincere picture in the city of Love. Uncle Louie makes a quarter turn and the true intention of his romantic game comes into view- holding Solomon, he is pounding down on his wife with his walking stick whilst my sadistic son explodes in fits of laughter. And Veronica's previously perceived flirtatious giggles, are actually frustrated gasps as the poor lady tries desperately to get close enough to claw out her husbands eyes so she can snatch the baby from his arms and throw him in the nearby river. Claiming he was getting tired i took Solomon off Uncle Louie and strapped him in his pram as he flashed me a cheeky smile through his dummy.
We strolled to Veronica's immense knowledge of the city's incredibly dark and exciting history. Allow me to run you through a very brief history- At one point in Paris was made up of a few enormous residences and castles owned by an ultra elite class of people, each with half a million servants. Than the people, in frustration, cut EVERYONES head off and we have the Paris we now know today.
We finally arrived at Sainte Chappelle, which considered the existence of a pram similar treachery to a terrorist plot, and the pram was imprisoned by angry guards for the duration of our stay. the entry hall is a low vaulted ceiling with gold and blue painted stone. after walking up an immensely tight circular staircase, you arrive at the real spectacle- a 10 storey high room littered with stained lead light glass from floor to ceiling around the entire perimeter. the vastness of the space is inspiring as you take a deep breath lifting your head toward the ceiling as the mild, colourful light hits your eyes and they are widened in amazement. the space is small but humbling as you are left pondering the immense spirituality expressed through the religious effigys retelling, with more vigour than could be captured by any photograph, the most re-told story in the existence of humanity. As people stood amazed, the true solemnity of the place was only interrupted by Solomons excitement at the echo of his voice. As he stood there in Uncle Louie's lap, expelling out quick loud yelps he would jump at the sound of his echo and screech in joy. People, trying not to make it obvious, would look down as far as they could without lowering their chins from the ceiling. After a good few minutes, Solomons screeches of joy became shrieks of a hunger and we decided to leave before anyone suffered any permanent neck damage.
Quite fittingly, outside the chapel was an old stone column, where Solomon could, in full character, re-create the gargoyle which was missing.
We then continued our stroll through Paris to Veronica's fantastic knowledge of the ancient city back dropped against the picturesque Seine river and its lovely crowd-filled banks. One of the Islands on the Seine, which we walked past en-route to our bus stop, is not only amongst the most expensive real estate in the WORLD, but is owned by the richest family in the world- the Rothschilds. A few K's later, poor Bec waddling her pregnant-self through the crowded streets in exhaustion, we arrived at our bus stop and waited for our Bus to take us to Uncle Louie's home for dinner.
This time, uncle Louie was prepared. Everything was removed from Solomons destructive gaze and a small area was cleared and fenced by a dining table for him to play, like cattle. Solomons wrath, however, will not be contained and he quickly and stealthily, evaded the dining table fence and made for the nearest pot plant where he proceeded to sample the local cuisine by jamming as much soil and dirt into his mouth before anyone realised he was on the opposite side of the room. Like a good boy who doesnt like wasting food, he slammed his mouth on the floor to suck up any dirt which had inadvertently landed on the floor around him.
This time, Uncle Louie prepared a french stew which contained all types of vegetables and a french style wonton- which is minced beef, wrapped in pork and tied together with pork skin. The stew was lovely and wholesome, the french wontons were delicious. They were firm, juicy and full of flavour and complemented the soft vegetables which accompanied the stew.
After dinner we caught the bus back home. I held Solomon and presented our tickets at the front of the bus whilst Bec took the pram through the back of the bus as it is the only entrance big enough to allow pram access. at both stops of our two bus trip, the bus door closed on Bec as she stumbled and tripped toward the exit fumbling the pram and our coats, screaming gibberish she though was french but was actually some dialect of elvish. As i stood on the other side of the closed bus door laughing uncontrollably, the bus driver, not entirely sure whether she wanted to get off or break dance with props, would drive another 20 mertes before stopping and letting Bec fall out on to the street. She would get up, hair messed, panting and sweating, face bright red, and tell me to hurry up, like she had been waiting for me further up the road all along.
We walked home in a joyful strut whilst Solomon, perched on my shoulders, called and chanted playfully before munching down on my ear to ease his teething pains.
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