Come (puff) away with me to Paris

Last night, I had dinner with Mr. J & his friends at Chili's- nice atmosphere, s0-s0 food but the bottomless tomato juice was simply divine!

Throughout dinner, he & his buddies chatted excitedly about the coming World Cup while me and Jo sat quietly across each other eating burritos.

Sigh, at least, seat us women together la, so we can goss or something. We were seated too far diagonally across that we mimed and pulled faces while the dungus blabbed on and on about football.

I glugged on tomato juice and requested for refills every half-hour until the young teenaged waiter refilled my glass without asking.

Suddenly, the football chatter came to a halt and Glenn announced:

Glenn - We've all decided to go to Germany to watch the World Cup. You gals want to join us?

Me - Can't. I'm going to London & France.

Jo - Cool, woman.

Mr. J - What?! You never told me that.

I realised yesterday that even 30-something men can be such boys - Why?!! How come?! Why you never tell me? and then proceed to pout and sulk in a corner all evening.

[Later, in the car, outside my apartment.]

Still sulking? Hmm?

No.

You can come with me, you know. It's not too late to get an airticket to London. After all, I've booked double-bed rooms.

I spent the next hour pacifying him. My bad too as I broke the holiday news to others and not to him first.

So I filled him in with my holiday plans, the places I can't wait to see in Paris- the magnificent art galleries, eclectic flea markets, quirky 2nd-hand bookshops, to-die-for cooking supply stores, gorgeous gardens and exquisite architecture. After listening to me ramble on and on about France, he pulled his arms around me and said softly, Sorry dahling, I was a dick just now.

*light bulb blinking in my head*

Hey, you know what. There's a world-class smoking museum in Paris, dedicated to smokers, people like you la. It's got great historical stuff on tobacco and smokers. See, Paris has got something for you.

Forgot to inform him that 3 out of 4 Parisian light up.

Cake mania

It's been ages since I played any PC games and this game sure takes the cake.

I spent the whole afternoon yesterday, squinting at my PC screen and clicking the mouse furiously to take customers' orders, bake cakes and ice them in lightning speed. Yeah, I won the game after a non-stop 4-hour gaming session.

PC games are annoyingly addictive, I tell you. Once you start, you gotta keep going to the next level and the next and the next until you conquer the highest level.

Must go do something else today.

Circling

I've been too busy for the past few weeks, running around in circles until my car slowed me down today.

My car is in the workshop with massive repairs to replace the worn-out radiator and to tune the engine. So, I'm left at home doing nothing, wondering what to do.

Trip to France - checked
Schedule work deadlines before trip - checked
Last-minute crash course in French - checked
Income tax submission- checked

Hmm, what shall I do next?

Pourquoi

That's the first French word I learnt, 10 years ago, on one of the hottest days in Australia. It was a sweltering hot day in the city. I was melting under the fierce summer heat and my mall-rat self couldn't escape to shopping malls as they were swarming with christmas-shopping crowds.

So, I dashed into the closest arty cinema. After a quick scan at the foreign movies listed and a quick study at the movie posters displayed, I opted for 'Blue' because Juliette Binoche captivated my attention with her lucid brown eyes and the indigo blue of the poster was simply gorgeous, enigmatic and mysterious. Also, the movie was titled after a colour piqued my curiosity. Hmm, interesting, what does it explore? What aspect of the blue colour? What is it about?

Watching BLUE marked the birth of my francophile self; which wasn't a conscious effort but a constant nagging feeling that popped up every now and then- hmm, maybe I should go see that French movie, go read French authors and be tickled over Asterix comics.

After watching Blue, I was compelled to learn French and soon, I found myself taking French electives in uni. Over the years, I've kept up by reading French magazines, listening to French internet radio and watching French movies screened at the Alliance Francaise.

I suspect I was a French in my past life as once, I dreamt myself speaking the language fluently in a French seaside town, buying bread from a boulangerie.

* Pourquoi- why
boulangerie- bakery

Funny bits

It's all set. I've coordinated my train, plane and hotel bookings in France. My itenary goes like this - Paris (7 days), Avignon (3 days) and Nice (4 days).

Now, I only hope that everything goes on smoothly. Please, please, please let there be no rail strike, riots and plane delays in France. Please, please, please let there be a nation-wide amnesia of liberté - égalité - fraternité in France for the next 3 months.

Besides France, London is also on my itenary as I've never been there. Yep, I'll be flying to London first, then crossing the English Channel to Paris on the Eurostar train. I'll have a few days before and after France to squeeze some touristy activities in London.

Some bits of info from the British Eurostar website:

"We’ll send you the same in a confirmation email shortly. We look forward to seeing you on board! Unless you have a photographic memory, you might want to print this page for your records.."

"To check in, all you have to do is insert your ticket into the machine (which will hold onto it exactly long enough for you to start to panic, just a little bit) and then walk through the gate with your baggage. Easy."

"When you’re going away, parking the car never fails to result in some kind of situation. Usually it’s a nightmare situation."

I'm going to love my stay in London.

Backpack or wheelie?

I've booked my plane ticket and hotel accomodation to Paris and Nice.

Now, I'm deliberating if I should get a backpack (of 35L capacity) or a wheeled cabin case. A backpack will instantly classify me a backpacker and I'm no backpacker. It's just that I'd like to move around easily from train stations to hotels as I'm going to travel solo. Not only that, I have heard horror stories of vagrants in Paris distracting you and running off with your luggage.

A wheeled cabin case will only look nice and that's it. Although I may use it for future use, I don't really like cabin cases as they are cumbersome. But a backpack means I probably chuck it in my storeroom for the next indefinite trip.

Which shall I get?