06 / Châteaux, Soccer and Salad Niçoise
Location: Paris – France
It was our last night in Paris. Place de la République was up in smoke. Young guys filled the streets, yelling “Vive la France!” with French flags held high. A chaos of car horns and neighbours waving and cheering – fireworks and flares filled the skies – so kind of France to throw us a surprise farewell celebration.
Earlier in the afternoon, I’d noticed hundreds of Qatar football jerseys spilling out across the sidewalks. Every pub was packed. There was more than just the 32C heatwave bringing everyone out and about. I do love how one can be completely oblivious to a multi-billion-dollar, city-stopping sporting event. What’s this Budapest 26 thing? Are they hosting this year’s Eurovision?
Finally, the penny dropped – Paris Saint-Germain F.C. was in the 2026 UEFA Champions League final. They beat Arsenal 4-3 on penalties and they were going nuts. I’ve never experienced a city celebrate the way the Parisians do – particularly when it comes to their much-loved game of soccer.
The last time I recall experiencing this level of patriotism was on the night of the 6th September 1992. Thousands of patriots gathered on Sydney Harbour awaiting the announcement of the 2000 Olympics bid. “And the winner is…” there was a rare and unforgettable pause, a silence. Then… people screaming with joy, hugging strangers, dancing, the evening filled with a rare, magical comradery.
The flip-side of the Parisian celebration was that in some parts of the city, the crowds went pear-shaped. 780 arrested, 450 held in custody, with over 200 people injured. I mean, get a little drunk and celebrate, but setting piles of bikes, bins and cars ablaze and vandalising shopfronts?
A friend and Parisian local told me that since Covid times, this kind of overreaction has become more commonplace. Fortunately, though, it appears most still want to celebrate peacefully and are completely against these pocketed outbreaks of brute force.
Perhaps I’m a little too entrenched in local politics oui? That’s Paris for you. Fortunately, I’ve a few more experiences to share to keep the good times in check.
Salad Niçoise – The Final Lunch
Le Comptoir du Relais
“Let’s do this” I said to Adriano. We dropped all the packing-up duties and jumped on the metro to Saint-Germain-des-Prés – destination Le Comptoir du Relais. Our mission – Salad Niçoise.
This lunchtime dish is the perfect storm of everything a salad should be. A bed of crunchy iceberg lettuce chunks scattered with cherry red tomatoes, blanched green beans, pickled red onions and garlic, the tartness of caper berries, kalamata olives, and of course, top-shelf tuna AND anchovies – all this dressed in a light, lemony vinaigrette, accompanied by a bottomless baguette.
Le Comptoir du Relais is a bustling food-lovers’ institution. First opened in 2004, they are considered the founders of bistronomy – boujee but accessible bistro dining. It may have lost a little of its shiny top-lister presence over the years, but consider this a gift – you’ll usually get a table. Do yourself a favour, skip the ‘this sounds nice’ menu browse and b-line it for the Niçoise – pure Parisian excellence in every mouthful. Yum.
The Jungle Mastery of Henri Rousseau
Musée de l’Orangerie
My gallery threshold is about 60 minutes. After that, the artworks start to blur into a world of forgettable mess. It was wonderful to flush that threshold when visiting the Musée de l’Orangerie for their current Henri Rousseau exhibition – hello, joy mode – one of my most loved creatives.
Henri’s later works have a marvellous flatness, picture a busy collage of cutout-like stencils that come together in a layering of branches, leaves, grasses, flowers, and a mass of other exotic botanicals. A jungle, or perhaps a lush forest. What at first appears to be a clear visual subject of an animal or human often masks another, more subtle presence hidden amongst the foliage, like a monkey or a bird – one that holds the viewer curious, in search of more.
Interestingly, Henri never experienced the jungle, or went to sea. His inspiration came entirely from his imagination – from children’s books, photos, Parisian greenhouses and other artists of his time.
In his painting Scouts Attacked By Tiger Rousseau took a dive into capturing more exotic scenes. His ensuing works often feature man vs beast, or beast vs beast. Definitely not Disney, but not overly dark… just matter of fact, keep it simple conflict.
I adore his kooky family portrait Père Junier’s Cart that captures his subjects with cat-like faces, and their little dog front and centre with tongue sticking out. Apparently Rousseau painted this as a debt repayment for his neighbour. I’m guessing it was exchanged with a slightly awkward handshake.
A Château and Chantilly Cream
A fitting end to an unforgettable month – we day-tripped to the fairytale magnificence of Château de Chantilly, and the très charming ancient walled village of Senlis, all just 45 mins away from the 11th arrondissement by train.
One could describe Château de Chantilly as boutique compared to Versailles, but there’s very little that’s small about this vast 7,800-hectare forested property. Dating back to the Middle Ages, numerous architects have added their indulgent touch over the years to this majestic residence, with one of Europe’s finest art collections of over 7,000 works.
There’s room after room of paintings and drawings, sketches, shells, bones, stuffed animals and the finest hand painted place settings, all amassed by the last resident Duke d’Aumale who in 1897 gifted the Facebook Marketplace lot to the Institut de France to ensure its preservation.
This one particular piece by Ingres (above), Françoise de Rimini, caught my eye. At first glance, I was captivated by Paolo, who gazes lovingly at his sister-in-law, Francesca. It wasn’t until later, when Googling, that I discovered Ingres had captured Paolo’s brother, Giovanni, the husband of Francesca, watching on from the shadows with a sword in hand, ready for the kill. So beautiful and wickedly dark!
Post-Château, we explored Senlis, a quiet little village that seems to be slightly off the main tourist trail. Cobbled streets and wonky houses, rambling rose bushes, a headless priest, and a Notre-Dame-esque soaring cathedral. Adriano was keen on trying the famous Chantilly Cream-topped ice cream – a solid second place to my generous flan.
And so… this magical Paris chapter closes. I’m currently wrapping this story two weeks after having left Paris for Norway. We’re parked by a vast fjord in Rosendal, surrounded by the greenest, forested mountains, soaring waterfalls and distant snow peaks. I’ll finally be able to align my writing with my travel timeline.
Thanks for sticking with me! I look forward to sharing the next chapter with you soon.
A Few Shared Moments
Best eats:
Paris. Your patisseries, boulangeries, brasseries and fromageries, your weekly markets and your poissonnières. Your cafes, épiceries and bistros. Merci for every shared meal, every mouthful, every yum moment.
Best ‘worth the effort’ moment:
Dropping all sensibilities on our last day and heading out for a sweltering, very fitting last lunch, the aforementioned Niçoise – it will be enjoyed again!
Flat point:
Packing. The upside? New adventures ahead.
Cultural observation:
The Parisian tourist experience of today is very different from the 90s. A moment of language struggle will have, with little fuss, the conversation switched to English. Very helpful, but I do kind of miss the point-blank “Non” back in the day when asking if English was an option.
And… onwards! 💚