souvenirs

gosh there are tons and tons of lovely amazing photos from our france trip, which duly reflect how lovely and amazing the 16 days were. now that it's back to reality and london life, i look back on the last 2/3 weeks and feel thankful that i got to realise yet another a lifelong dream.

i don't really know how to blog about the france trip. simply because there are too many memories to condense, where do i start and how do i choose?

there's marseille:
almost getting grabbed on la canebière by an old drunk/druggie, hearing gunshots in the vicinity of the hotel on our last night, car alarms going off and youngsters hanging around in the streets in the early hours of the morning, african women begging on the streets with babies in their arms.

paris:
getting chatted up by two french men (one of brazilian origin, the other clearly stoned) and having the clearly stoned one hit on me and then ask me to kiss him. meeting marine in the marais quartier (gay hangout), dining on lovely salad and slurping on scrumptlicious berthillon ice cream (chocolat mendiant and orange-sanguine). spending out last few hours napping on a park bench surrounded by hdb-estate-ish blocks.

lyon:
dinner at a bouchon on the last night - yum. lugging our luggage up a steep hill to the hostel. the headless angel statues of the cathedrales. the views of lyon from the hostel and from the basilique. the lovely australian girl we met at the hostel in lyon, then again rather randomly in avignon. the lousy crêpes from a deceptively decent-looking bouchon.

and i haven't even begun on annecy (the lake), grenoble (the mountains and ooh the view), avignon (a rather disappointing but still-interesting pont), aix-en-provence (the tad pathetic cézanne's trail), arles (pretty little town that satisfied nisha's fetish for roman arenas), nice (sun, pebble beaches and sea), monaco (soulless rich tax haven, lovely sea nonetheless), versailles (what a palace, what a garden, stupid us we went on monday when the palace was closed), rouen (cathedrals, charming old buildings along narrow cobbled streets - i like)...

but then, a picture paints a thousand words.