Paris...What can I say? It was surprisingly painless. No jaw popping incidents, no self-inflicted flames, no knock down overly dramatic situations. Just great food, great company, and great times. Of course there was loads of work, which thus resulted in loads of celebratory shopping, at the completion of this work. And, more than once a day I found myself day-dreaming again about returning, on a more permanent basis, to the city of lights.
I feel at home in France, in a way I never will in Holland. I love the food, the culture, the history, the fashion, the architecture, the film, the people (yes, the people! For all of those who find the French arrogant or rude. I’ve never. Never once. Of course they think very highly of their country, of their culinary accomplishments, of their artists, their writers, their poets. But why shouldn’t they? Isn’t it for all those reasons why literally millons of people flock to France each year? Those who find them rude are perhaps misinterpreting their lack of ability in English for rudeness. But trust me, if you think the French are rude! Hah! Try living in Holland! You ain’t seen nothing’ yet baby!! I digress...)
But above all, I love France’s ever-present "joie de vivre". Nobody seems to enjoy the simple pleasures of life more than the French.
I'll stay put in Amsterdam for now, after all, as Ernest Hemingway once said, "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast".
