Parlez Vous Francai?

When I was sixteen I had this complete obsession with Paris.

I listened to French music, read French literature, cut out pictures from Vogue Magazine and plastered an entire wall in my bedroom with them. I was convinced that I would learn French and run away one day to live there.

So, when I came here when I was 17 and fresh from high school, the world was beautiful and I remembered Paris as being magical and wonderful.

Some five years later, on my own, Paris was different and I felt like it was a change I didn’t enjoy.

As sad I was to leave my love behind in Sweden, I was excited to come back because it meant that I gained the company of some of the most intriguing people I know. The only ones for me are the mad ones.

My experiences have definitely changed since they’ve joined me. 

Trying to navigate your way through Le Louvre is not pleasant after you drink heavily for the first time in a while and well... one of us threw up in that very culture rich establishment, making someone dry reach while someone else laugh too hard to be of any help.

Regrets...?

Ahh... well, I certainly have a few.

That’s the price you pay for travelling with friends. Not only are there people to share all these wonderful experiences with me but they’re also there to laugh hysterically at my misfortune and take photos.
They're a bunch of assholes and I'm so happy to have them here.

Mostly because there’s someone to laugh with me when we catch trains with names that sound like funny English words for genitalia.

During our time here, I enjoyed heading out of the city and going to Versailles. Although there's not a whole lot to do there and the line to get in is a total pain, it's nice, it's beautiful and it smells much fresher.

I mustn’t be all that pleasant to argue with at the moment because a month on your own makes you head strong and very self assured to the point of arrogance but I think that’s also what I needed.

One of the good things about travelling with people is that I can do things I didn’t want to do on my own. I’m sure going to Disney Land would have just made the most magical place on Earth, very, very sad.

The city it self reminds me of a fifty five year old chain smoker.

You can tell she used to be beautiful once. You can appreciate all the history and the culture she’s experienced but when you look closer you realise she’s plastered in make-up and desperately trying to pick up twenty year olds at a speed dating singles night. I wish Paris were a little more Meryl Streep and a little less Madonna in a unitard.

Maybe my fading love for Paris has a lot to do with how much my view on the world has changed. It’s not good or bad, just different.

I still like Paris, we can share some nice moments when she isn’t trying too hard. 

I would come back but that’s where it stops. As it turns out... I probably just put those Vogue pictures on my wall for the girls rather than the city.