Currently I am meant to be battling away with my Arabic revision, but I’ve had a hankering to keep up my writing, and now, here in Lyon, in my Parain’s (Godfather’s) empty house, I want to let my creative juices flow (whilst no one can tell me that I should be ‘revising’). Writing is my outlet – emotional and topical, but today, I want to write about mon amour: Paris.
Ever since I was thirteen, on that bitterly coldand depressingly grey day as my family and I walked down the Champs-Élysées, I fell in love with the French culture (the Parisians, not so much). I can remember staring in awe at the Louis Vuitton monogrammed scaffolding that concealed the building site of the shop behind. Everything just seemed so elegant and chic – this was clearly something I desperately wanted to be, due to my chubby acneridden face, and not a scrap of make up to cover up the masses of red spots that plagued me for years onwards.
There is no denying my love for Paris – I am a city girl after all (London born and bred). The women who walk the streets of Paris look so effortlessly chic, and so slim! Although, that is purely due to (as my mother once said) the fact that they smoke, and eat very little; if only I had their willpower, I can never refuse a slice of Brie or Camembert!
Aside from the Parisians, I have to express my love for my absolute favourite part of this beautiful city: Montmartre – sitting on-top of the hill, overlooking Paris. On the summit of Montmartre sits the beautiful white domed Basilica of the Sacre Coeur – and although I have never been inside, just the magnificent exterior was enough to stand in awe at the immense size of the imposing architecture.
Montmartre really has everything I love: artists painting with oils on their canvases, charicatures of couples being speedily sketched by another artist, and coloured andbeautiful chalk drawings on the old cobbled stones. All the little shops, (although a tad touristy) sell old vintage card mounted posters andpostcards (I actually bought myself a lovely vintage style Moulin Rouge poster which is framed in my room to this very day!) Montmartre is the epitome of artistic quirkiness, and I guess that’s why I love it so much.
But here I am, at twenty years of age, and now feel I am ready to take on Paris – the teenage acne and puppy fat is long gone, I can wear and put on my own make up, and my wardrobe has long since been updated (THANK GOD).
I say screw Amsterdam for this summer’s trip, everyone with some common sense knows that the majority of students don’t go there to visit ‘the sights’… So Paris, mon amour, I’ll definitely be seeing you this summer.