Heaven again (part deux in a series)

I went to heaven again on Wednesday, although it was a different heaven to the one I visited in Stockholm two weeks ago.

Upon awakening in our Paris apartment, I sneaked downstairs to the boulangerie to purchase some petit croissants, fresh rapsberries and exquistely delicious yoghurt for the girls. After the seven of us showered, put our faces on, styled our hair, checked our various emails and Facebook accounts on one extraordinarily slow computer with a wacky French keyboard, we ventured out into the chilly summer downpour in search of cafe au lait and adventures.


Myself and three others spent the day at Le CentrePompidou, France's premier gallery for modern art. And if I were to say it was one of the best days of my life, well....


The collection itself was truly astonishingly wonderful, but the best thing about the Pompidou, for mine, is the exceptional design of the building. When it was built in 1977, the artists had a vision of inverting the structure of the building to expose its inner workings to the public. This resulted in the service structures being placed on the building's exterior: so escalators are yellow, elevators red, water pipes blue and gas/electricity are green. Amazing.


I won't bang on about the collection, because I am even worse at describing art than I am at photographing it. But it was amazing and some very happy hours were passed perusing the five floors of work.















One of my traveling companions suggested we eat at George's, on the top floor of the Pompidou. This was my first experience eating in a Michelin-starred restaurant, and one to which I would like to become accustomed. The view was incredible, and the food divine (as evidenced by my traveling companion's droolworthy club sandwich).


But the whole experience of being in Paris with dear, dear friends, eating exquisite food overlooking one of the world's most charming cities, was far greater than the sum of its parts. It was so special I very nearly wept. One of the girls took a beautiful photo of us at lunch, and I can't wait to print it, frame it, grow old and fondly look back at how lucky I was to be in Paris with my girlfriends when we were 27.





That night was also pretty wonderful. We went to the tres chic Marais district to see Bright Eyes, which was amazing. I had often dismissed Conor Oberst as a twee popster best-known for his short-lived affairette with Winona Ryder, but he put on one hell of a show.


I write this from the terrace of our villa in Nice, which is yet another kind of heaven. It's 8pm, not even close to dusk, and I'm wearing a swimsuit and a linen shirt and enjoying the peaceful companionship of six dreambirds who are variously cooking, napping, swimming, bathing and reading. It would appear that there are as many kinds of heaven as there are of gods.

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