A couple of days ago it was my friend's 20th birthday, and so we decided to take a trip together to Paris for a few days to celebrate. The idea of Paris has never appealed to me (gasp), mainly due to the fact that I don't like London at all, and everyone told me that Paris was basically London but with more dirt and baguettes. However, I decided to visit Paris for the first time - and the result? I fell completely and utterly in love.
Imagine, little old French ladies with perfect hair and make-up carrying teensy chihuahuas under their arms, with men that oozed sultriness and seduction, imposing and ornate buildings on every corner, guys playing accordions and xylophones on the metro, delivery boys with massive bouquets of bright blue flowers going to the cream-coloured houses with the shutters on the windows. I couldn't fault a single thing - and even the beggars sat on their corners with little rabbits in their laps. We went into French cafes where we ate crepes, and roamed the streets where we bought quaint velvet bags and macarons, and spent the evening in restaurants where they brought out pasta and salads with grapes in and orange juice they added bottled water to (a delicacy apparently). We took photos with Mona Lisa, and saw Paris from the top (the best view was from the Centre of Pompidou - you're welcome), and gazed at the Eiffel Tower as snow started falling around us. Reading this, you're probably counting dollar signs in your head, working out how we could afford such a luxurious trip to one of the most famous countries in the world. The truth? It came as easy as breathing.
