Old-times in Paris

Just got back from a super weekend in Paris. Went on a whim to see old friends I went to university with in Australia. Hadn’t seen them for 4-years but when we met, it was like we met yesterday. That’s the beauty of genuine friendships.

I’ve been to Paris 3 times before, but going from Madrid to Paris was a whole different ballgame. Made me feel like I went from a humble town (yes, Madrid) to “the” epitome of all clichés a European society stands for.

Flawlessly stylish clothes, families that seem to have walked right out of a catalogue, posh culture, expensive coffee and uhh let uz not forget zi accent.

Far from being tall-blond-hair-blue-eye-porcelain-skinned, I felt like I needed a twirly mustache and French hat to fit in. I also must have been the only one on the street in flip-flops without pedicured feet. But I had the ‘get lost I’m from Madrid’ attitude going on; my saving grace. And I speak Spanish, oo wantz to zpeak French anyway.

With their conventionally yet perfectly correct lives, everyone seems to have their act together in Paris. Another reason that shook me a little bit. Young, beautiful people, viciously successful, living the upper-class good life.

Call me demented but nope, I wasn’t envious. Not the least bit.

The slimy snails, caviar and frogs legs don’t go well with me either. I much rather devour a crepe (or 4!) on the street.

I missed Madrid, and glad I chose Spain rather than any other country in Europe.

Don’t get me wrong, Paris has it’s own charm. It’s a beautiful city.

But my bias towards Spain has begun. I’m turning into a Madrileña.

2 thoughts on “Old-times in Paris

  1. May be u shd have borne in Spain.It seems u do (wearing and fooding)what u like not what in fashion.That is how one shd be- true and real happiness.

  2. When I went to Paris for the very first time 15 years ago, I thought: well, this is real modernity. Now I think the field between Madrid and Paris has equalised.

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