Bonjour mes amis!

Paris at last!

Despite the odds (Being told at check-in that my ex-boyfriend was still booked in the seat beside me; Spending the first leg of the flight boxed in between two Russian men in head-to-toe nylon tracksuits – B.O. as W.M.Ds; No less than three babies in the row ahead of me), I arrived well rested.

For this I thank my canny lobbying of the Qantas staff at Singapore airport to secure me a new aisle seat, my own little haven with no screaming babies, no B.O., and apparently a window dweller with no bladder because for that entire flight she did not move.

3 wines, 2.5 sleeping pills, & a sounds-of-the-rainforest-soundtrack later, there was no waking me.
I arrived at my Paris hotel smelly but awake, with just 2hrs before I was due to be photographed by Carla Coulson (a story for later), and way earlier than check-in time. Karma I love you, because standing there behind the desk was the stern-but-lovely woman who used to stand behind the desk of the much-nicer work-funded hotel. Voila! Like that I was in my upgraded room, showered, face-masked within an inch of my life, & en route to Carla’s.

I’ll write more about the gorgeous Carla Coulson another time but suffice to say not only is she gorgeous, talented, and cool, she also has the patience of a saint, because if you ever watched Friends and saw the episode where Monica tries to get a portrait taken with Chandler, then you’ll have some idea how difficult it was for Carla to get a natural photo of me. That woman deserves a medal. Sigh.

Back to my beloved Saint Germaine Des Pres. Why am I always so surprised to return to places across the world and find they’re not only still there but still the same? Paris is nothing if not consistent.

LOVES IT.

“View from my hotel window.”

“The never-changing view from cafe Les Deux Magots.”

“The blissful sight at the end of day 1.”

Tagged as: Paris