To Paris for the Rugby

Our man G. says to us a couple of weeks ago, "hey, I'm going over to Paris to see my uncle [M'sian Ambassador] and aunt. My cousin from Australia will be there and so will my brother V. We're going to see the Rugby World Cup, why don't you guys come too?" Thanks for the advanced warning. Of course we'll come over.


Arrived at the residence early Friday morning, in time to have a nice big Malaysian breakfast.


Since we had nothing else on for the day, we strolled on over to Palais de Chaillot... R. with the boys...


...and then around to Trocadero, found ourselves some outdoor seating, and settled in for the day. Beers for the lads, all the Cab Franc that R. and I can handle. Coming to France for beer... seriously...


Many hours later, it's time to head back to the residence for dinner...


...for a champagne reception with curry puffs. Can't think of a better pairing.


The dinner card which nearly caused international scandal (by not recognising my bride as my bride).


Fabulous dinner of biriyani, chicken kurma and beef rendang, with some magnums of Chateauneuf du Pape (I did not catch the marque or the vintage, but it was funky, just the way I like it.)


After dinner, it was time to go out. Hôtel Costes on rue St-Honore is a favorite target, and even our scruffy companions eventually managed to get in. It was touch and go for a bit there.

So, Saturday, the big day of rugby. England v. Samoa in Nantes. Allegedly the boys had tickets. I had gone so far as to contact my buddy D., whose brother is a trainer for the Samoa side. Suffice it to say, none were in any condition for the sophisticated execution required to get us there, so we all slept in until Datin called everyone down for brunch and announced her plan to take us on some visits.


First stop, Ladurée for some Madeleines. Being part of a diplomat's entourage definitely has its perks - such as convenient parking on Champs-Élysées.


Next was a quick stop at the Diplomat's shopping centre. I couldn't resist taking a photo of this "marinade." I've definitely smelled that style of application.

After a walk around Sacré Cœur, we headed to Club 30 at the Concorde La Fayette where we took tea and finally got to watch some rugby. Sadly, we were just a few minutes late and missed the Hakaa. R. will surely complain about this for some time.


By this time, the boys were seriously dragging, and also looking a touch green. Rough night. Too many dodgy French beers, not enough good French wine. Not the Dato and I, we were well up for a visit to 3C - Châteaux Cash & Carry, purveyor of fine French wines - seriously, that was the name of the place. And a little tasting of '03 Bordeaux... all very tight.


Something for everyone... a great wine shop with a HUMONGOUS TV, showing the rugby of course.


Our shopping cart. Mine accounted only for a case, but good work on my part all the same.


After a stroll around La Defense, on to dinner at The Blue Elephant. That's right, Thai food. What, you thought a horde of Malaysians, even in Paris, would eat something that wasn't Asian? Really?

And so, that was the weekend. The next morning, R. and I flew back to Philadelphia, having watched about 30 minutes of rugby, on television no less. Success.