Paris (the second day)

One day of glorious weekend sushine was enough to ask for on a late November weekend, thus we were greeted with horizontal rain and gale force winds upon wakeup at St Christopher's Inn on a lazy Paris Sunday. We didn't care. Paris is Paris! and when you're travelling with reunited americans, the Europe is Europe! attitude takes over. I can't explain it but it's something like Europhilia on triple espressos. I'm not complaining; I led the pack.


We'd finished off the night before at a cozy and grafittied, specialising in Sangria, student bar called 'Le 10 Bar', on rue d'la Odeon, somewhere in Paris's boho Quartier Latin. The quarter is a mess of cobbled, narrow streets and tiny pavements. V. cool. But with the sangria going straight to our heads, we stumbled home and made a less than early start the next day.

at Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen...lots of dead animals, funky smells, avante garde street performers and interesting clothing choices


After waiting out the rain with extra large hot chocolates and various tastes of market fayre, we marched endlessly towards le tour eiffel, taking a series of ridiculous photos.



The beauty of travelling with very-good-at-what-they-enjoy amateur photgraphers, is that you see places in a totally different light. Lights, angles, viewpoints all begin to throw themselves in front of you. I was actually excited to see the Eiffel Tower for the third time in my life.

That, and seeing Nasim's face when the hunkering tower of metal snuck into the skyline was pretty priceless.


beauty in a reflection in a puddle
and then this

After our highly nutritious dinner of Bastardy, crisps and fromage, I left Nasim and Jason at the hostel to return back to London reality. It would be romanticly american to say that I gazed longingly out past the french countryside, sideways beret clad composing poetry about the delightful weekend I had.
In reality, I passed out as soon as train wheels hit the track and woke up abruptly at St. Pancras station.