Paris



I have finally managed to post a few pics from our weekend in Paris, which you will find here.

It seems like so long ago now, but so many memories can be recalled so easily. Paris wasn't a place that was high on my list of 'must-see's' however my views have changed and I cannot wait to head back there with Andy for a romantic getaway. It definitely is the city of love. We were constantly amazed at the number of people 'french' kissing on the underground and even in the streets, quite unabashedly.

There were so many good things about the city, but I must tell you this (for those of you who know the story, I'm sorry to put you through it again, lol). For the first time in my life I was almost the victim of a pick pocket, and not only once, but twice, the bastards! However me being the switched on kid that I am, caught the assholes before they could get too far. On both occasions I was up by the Mulan Roug. The first night my husband was so excited over all the Sex for Sale paraphernalia, he didn't even notice what was happening. It took me a about an hour to calm down after that, I was a bit daunted, to tell the truth. The second time was coming out of the underground during our last day, on our way to Sacre Coeur. Dawn thankfully had my back, after I hollered (well made some strangely loud sound) at the fucker. By the time I caught up to Stacy, who letting some greasy street vendor braid some plastic on her outstretched finger, I was spitting fire - sorry mate, but we don't have time to be conned by you - I grabbed my sister and to the tune of 'I'm not fucking American so fuck you asshole' (the vendor didn't take too kindly to me pulling her away) stomped my way to Sacre Coeur. I suppose he mistook me for American because he didn't like my bad attitude!

I just wanted to relay that story because I was quite pleased with myself and also, because I find it amusing, looking back. I by no means hold Paris responsible for its thugs and it hasn't turned me off this amazing city. We did so much and ate some fantastic food. Andy, who had been a few times previously had warned me constantly of how he hated the French, that they were rude, etc. After storming through the city with five canucks, his tune has changed. And rightly so!