I spent the majority of my time in Paris eating and shopping. And attempting to walk everywhere in order to assure that my shopping still fitted me after all the eating.

Now you may ask, how do I have any room for shopping in my backpack? (I’ve only actually picked it up twice but “backpacking” sounds more authentically gap-year-like). Well the simple solution (emphasis on the simple, NAHT), just ship the things home and they’ll be waiting for me when I return in two months. But sadly for me, I missed the vital factor in this situation. My location. Paris and simple DO NOT (I repeat do not) often go together, unless you’re talking about making yourself sick from crepe overconsumption, uncontrollably spending exorbitant amounts of money on Kenzo or finding cabaret shows where they awkwardly lost all the breast areas of their costumes. Two hours, and many broken French conversations later, my new purchases were on their way (I HOPE, French God of fashion I pray to you) to Australia. We will find out in a few weeks anyway whether I am the proud new owner of the best Kenzo clutch ever, along with some other absolutely precious items (that I can’t wait to share with you), or the most distraught person in the world (and Galeries Lafayette WILL BE SORRY).

Nice on the other hand, is all the French charm and lack of Parisian hustle and bustle. An interesting combination of the French and Italian origins that the town continuously bounced between (it has been French and Italian and a few other nationalities at different points in time). While the Italian side of it presented benefits (relaxed vibes, pizza and arancini balls for the walk home after a night out)… There is the downside – for example, trying to communicate IN FRENCH about how to clean a jumpsuit (of which my cleaning vocabulary is already VERY limited), with someone who has an Italian accent. Sadly school French lessons didn’t stretch to comprehending French spoken with accents other than French ones…. My jumpsuit could be being cleaned, being destroyed, being dyed a new colour, nobody knows!

After consuming probably enough Nutella crepes to last a lifetime and attempting not to spend the entire trip’s spending money on holographic iridescent purple brogues (hint hint see you in 8 weeks), it’s time to change it up a bit, plunge into a new language (I cannot speak, yet will most likely attempt to) and head to Portugal + Spain. Holaaaaa!!!

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