MELI MEL:
They say that Paris is the city of love ... well, I love Paris.
It was just beautiful. We stayed in the Latin Quarter, which has the best little cafes and shops and quaint little hotels in quaint little avenues. It's teaming with super slim French women sipping cafe lattes with their fluffy little dogs lapping at their ankles.
Given it was peak season, there was no way we were getting near the Eiffel Tower without either having pre-booked a tour or paying 150 euros on lunch in the restaurant. We did neither, so we stayed with our feet planted firmly on the ground. The Louvre was even more packed so we sat by the fountain and quietly envied the people with the patience (?) to stand in line for 3 hours just to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa's crooked smile.
But, we did manage to do an open top bus tour and loads and loads of walking, which luckily would have burnt off our crepes and wine and cheese and all the other gourmet delights Paris is famous for.
The French are super friendly, they smiled patiently whilst we stumbled through menus and even stopped to help whilst I tried to make sense of the map. Don't ask Paul about that one ... he's still not talking to me due to my inability to read maps. I managed to get us walking the wrong direction atleast twice during the entire weekend. Can't blame a girl for trying though ... and that I did, relentlessly (much to Paul's chagrin!)
But, the world is a very very small place. You're mimicing the Parisien's well healed strut whilst you walk through the streets of Paris secretly wishing you were French so you can eat as much cheese and cream and croissants and chocolate as you like, whilst riding your bicycle (in a dress mind you) without a putting hair out of place sounding like you're reciting poetry even if you're paying for the toilet paper you just picked up from the local supermarket and all of a sudden like a bolt out of the blue, or should I say, like a bolt straight outta Essex or Dandenong you hear, "Bon-jorrrr, I'll 'ava skinneee latteey thaanks. Meschiii" Oh, cultural cringe. I am sure I sound not unlike this, but with Notre Dame as your backdrop ... it really seems, ummm ... not quite right. The English and Australians were everywhere. But, then again, it's very fatiguing trying to keep up with a language you don't know, so at the same time, it's almost welcoming hearing someone speak English in an Australian or English accent, atleast you're not straining to understand one word per five sentences.
Anyway, two days simply flies, and before we knew it we were back on the Eurostar for our quick journey home with promises to come back again during off-peak season so we can spend the whole day exploring the Louvre without having to wait 3 hours in a line first. Paul was disappointed that he still hasn't managed to kiss someone at the top of the Eiffel Tower. I was disappointed that I still haven't managed to climb the Eiffel Tower yet, let alone getting some French kissing action up the top. But nevermind ... "Paris, nous serons de retour."
