Back in the city of Love, Love, Love *doo dee doo*

Yes, here I am in Paris again and I'm remembering things that I love about this city.

Love:

• Food. Oh god French food is good. It's worth the entry fee alone.
• Language. The Eurostar drivers are multi-lingual (as they need to be) and the driver I had was obviously French from the sing-song way he spoke English. Seriously, me and the woman next to me looked at each other and giggled when he made announcements.
• My hotel. I didn't think I could get better than Hotel Jeanne d'Arc...but my room, teeny-tiny though it was, had it's own Haussmann-esque balcony!!!

Photomerge of my room. As you can see in the mirror, I am pressed flush against the wall.

My balcony.

• Aesthetics. It is pleasing to the eye. This is the view from my teeny-tiny balcony.

Daylight.


Okay, I had a bit of trouble holding still for the night shots.

• Atmosphere. Other visitors have told me they went to Paris and hated it because it didn't have that *magical* aspect that they were expecting. I don't know what they're talking about. Walking down the boulevards still makes me smile. I think the day that Paris doesn't make me smile is the day that I need anti-depressants.

But as much as there is to love about here, I'm not blind to it's faults!
Hate:

• Not having a fridge in my tres petite room to store leftover cheese and pate. When I ask for une petite tranche...it never seems to be that petite.
• Rip off for internet! 15 euro cents a minute?! That's 9 euros an hour!
• Being understood and not understanding. I will dolefully admit my french is not what it used to be. Problems especially arise when I ask for something correctly and I receive an answer which was far more complex than I was expecting because they think I can speak french properly. Or even worse. I bought some postcards and I thought the shop I bought them from would also supply them (they didn't). So I went to a tabac to get them...and somewhere between asking for *timbres* at the original shop and the tabac, the native population seemed to lose comprehension of what I was asking for.
• The scunge-factor. Pretty though the city is, it can be pretty damn scungy. I really hate jumping various stains on the footpath just in case they happen to be dog, or even human, urine. Having said that, the Metro didn't have its usual scent - even Pooey picked up on that one!