I originally visited Paris for the romance. The idea of the magical city of lights. The place which sparked with potential. The city where I could pretend to know about art. But the more I visit the more it becomes a bolthole, a place to get away and think/relax/rejuvenate. I think Paris might just be the biggest perk of living in London. I can hear you crying ‘just move to Paris then’, but I don’t want to live there. I want to visit and dive feet first into the culture, the treats and the ‘differentness’ of Paris.
I know I am lucky to have been enough times for Paris to feel comfortable, to know the Metro as well as I know the Underground (although it is beyond me why they have a picture of a pink rabbit). But is it mostly because I have sacrificed traveling to more exotic or far flung destinations in exchange for living in a lovely flat in Zone 1. I would much rather give up that trip to Croatia, Iceland or Jordan if it means walking through my front door each day and smiling because I am so grateful to live in my flat. But this means that when I need a trip (as a kiwi it happens, wanderlust boils in our veins) it has to be close and it has to be affordable…hello Paris.
Having the Eurostar just makes everything ok. I have travelled longer to get to brunch then I have to get to Paris (sadly not kidding on this one). And come to that, I have packed more luggage for brunch than I have for a weekend in Paris. But the almost painless journey through the Chunnel takes you from central London to central Paris in enough time to write a tear stained blog post (more on this tomorrow).
Arriving in Paris I can now ignore the tourist traps. I no longer have the urgent feeling that unless I see the Louvre something tragic might befall it, if I miss the Eiffel Tower a freak lightening storm might bend it beyond recognition. So I can enjoy Paris as the whim takes me. If I want to walk for an hour just to find the perfect place to eat eclairs I can. If I want to rest, go to bed at 4:30pm and watch Star Trek I can. And beyond anything if I just want to sit and watch the world, then Paris is the dream.
There are just a few Paris blog posts to come, not the normal wave of French to take over the blog. But that is because this trip was about all the things that are not blog worthy, the naps, the visits to the supermarche, and the chocolate butt plug exhibition. Actually, I might write about that last one (why do I always end up in these situations???).
A quick train journey and I am in a different world. I am going from the stressed up to the eyeballs London life all about work and fitness, to rediscovering the real me in my favourite magic city. I can’t wait.