JE NE PARLE PAS FRANÇAIS...

There is nothing I love more than stepping off a plane into an unknown place... when I don't know the language and have no idea where I am or what I'm doing, it's even better. 'Where are you staying?' Shrug. 'What shows are you going to?' Dunno. 'Why are you in Paris?' Hmmm...

Last minute trips are the best. I'm so glad that Shini twisted my arm and convinced me that going Paris was a good idea. I had so much fun - exploring the metro, eating loads and loads of food, freezing off my butt because I thought it was spring and didn't bring a coat... then going nutso in every shop because the rails were stupidly stocked with bikinis instead of gloves (even though it was three degrees outside). I remembered how much I love donuts, found a kids purple faux-suede jacket in H&M that has my name written all-the-freak over it and discovered a pair of printed shorts in Zara that would definitely see me right through summer (these are all things I could have done in Zurich, but nevermind that). I learnt that French people find no shame in staring, drive like lunatics, have archaic plumbing and are hilariously frank. Ladurée is good but so is McDonalds and, to be honest, I don't need to supersize my meal or get an extra portion of chicken nuggets (they aren't good the next day or at 3am when they're cold).

p.s. mark my words, Adidas gloves are making a comeback.

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