Knits

I got back from Paris Thursday evening. This will probably send gasps through the internet, but I found Paris only okay. It may have been because I really wasn’t in the best of moods despite trying to be chipper and excited to see the sites of Paris. The Boy was being really moody and that just rubbed off on me since I was already tettering on the edge of moody. It may have also been because, as I believe I said already, Paris has just never been one of those cities that I’ve been dying to visit.

It was good to get away from work (when isn’t it?) and be kept relatively busy so I couldn’t dwell on all the thoughts in my head right now. My feet and legs ached at the end of each day and outside of the first night, I didn’t sleep terribly well as it was rather warm and stuffy in our room, even with a fan on us all night (we couldn’t keep the window open for the sound of traffic and trains was too much for both of us).

I took a sock to knit — Charade — and was very determined to do it two at once, but bad me, only packed one size circular needle and it was too big. I mean, the needle is marked with the same size as the DPNs I used for the same yarn, but of course these things aren’t actually exactly the same and the fabric was way too loose for a sock. So I cast on a toe up sock on DPNs. That is not easy at all, let me tell you. I think I cast on for this sock a good seven times (on both circular, DPN, and combo) before I got it going. The pattern doesn’t quite work with the yarn, but it looks okay. It really needs more of a slip-stitch pattern to show it off, but I didn’t have any patterns with me that had those qualities (I did bring about six to choose from hahaha). I should’ve marked the blog page I found with a list of patterns for pooling yarn (mine isn’t pooling, but highly variegated and I think that page had lots of slip-stitch sock patterns — ring any bells?)

I visited La Droguerie. They have a lot of buttons and beads, and of course, some yarn. There isn’t actually a massive selection of yarn, but I did want to buy some pure linen which is actually impossible to come by here. However, the way the shop works was not conducive to the way I like to shop nor to my inability to speak/understand French. You are not allowed to help yourself to the yarn or beads. It’s easy not to help yourself to buttons since they are behind the counter in lots of little drawers. You can touch, you can pick up the jars of beads and look, but you cannot help yourself. Instead you must queue up to be helped. And as far as I could tell, for each different item, you had to queue in a different place.

It was much like a deli counter minus taking a number. Someone would come help you and pull the beads out for you or take the hank of yarn off the wall. After about 15 minutes browsing and touching yarns, and getting politely told off for picking up the jars of beads as I thought I had to pick them up and take them to the lady to be removed, I decided to leave. I sat outside for a few minutes plucking up the courage to go back in and try to buy the linen. I stood around for 20 minutes and never got helped because there were two people in front of me — one who seemed to be telling her life story to the shop attendant. So I left empty handed. It was too frustrating an experience for me. I do not have patience for that sort of thing. It’s like “I just want one hank of linen. It’s right there. Look I can take it down, you can put it on the scale (they sell it by the exact weight), write up the slip and I’ll be on my way. How hard is that?!”

Anyway, I ordered some yarn before I left to try out different yarns so I’ll actually be swatching. I did also finally buy a ball of Calmer in a colour more appropriate for my sister so I will finally, once again, try my hand at Shedir. I’ll detail the yarn buys later as well as share some pictures of Paris with you as the week goes on. Tomorrow my fellow ex-pat is coming up to Oxford so we can knit, drink, eat, and complain about England. Right now, however, I need to get myself something to eat, fix a flat tire, and go buy some damn groceries. The Boy said using Bailey’s Irish Cream as a substitute for milk in my morning coffee was not an acceptable substitute — me and my ex-pat friend disagree. Alas.

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