PARIS

I can't believe it took me so long to travel to Paris. J'adore! J'adore!

Actually I know exactly why it took so long. It was a promise that my 8 year-old self made after the French government's appalling bombing of the Rainbow Warrior in Auckland in 1985. I swore that I would never, ever set foot in that country as long as I lived. I also threw out my beloved Bic four-colour retractable ballpoint pen because it had Made in France written on the side. I was young, but I was principled.

So it was the determination and will of that little girl, carried with me as I aged and she drifted into the past, that gave me the self-control to live four years in the UK without once skipping across the Channel to France. Even now, twenty-six years later, a part of me feels really bad for breaking her vow. But there's only so much of "You've never been to Paris?" "You MUST go to Paris" and "Paris is lovely this time of year, want to come?" that one human being can withstand. And word to the wise, younger me, that religious education stuff they're pouring into your brain right now is all bollocks. You should zone out during lessons and use the time more constructively. Learn how to draw.

Anyway, Paris.

It was just a short weekend trip, and I saw nowhere near enough of that lovely city, but it was enough for me to know that I'll have to go back. I went to the Louvre and the marvellous Musée d'Orsay. I spent a half day on a walking tour of the city, and an evening drinking way too much wine in a little café not too far from the Moulin Rouge. Catching up with an expat English friend, we spent another evening drinking yet more wine and dancing to a live jazz band in an underground cavern bar. 

 
C'est très bien!

C'est magnifique!  

C'est Gérard Depardieu! (Sorry. Must learn more French.) 


Au revoir mon ami....