In August last year, amidst the madness and nerves that constituted our final weeks and days in London, two of my dearest friends and I agreed that upon our return to France, whenever that may be, they would come to meet me in Paris. This far-away promise of reuniting with two people I ached to leave set my heart and mind at ease a bit, and I have to say that for the entire time we were in the Philippines, I looked forward with great anticipation to this trip.
It would cover so many bases for me: I’ve never been on a “city break,” mostly because I find it abhorrent to try and take in a city in a matter of two or three days. But I’ve been to Paris, and I didn’t have that pressure I associate with a new place – that need to sort of immerse myself culturally. I missed my friends terribly while I was away, but I also missed just being with girls I could be with…for lack of a better explanation, I could fart in front of these two without blushing. That’s comfort. While food isn’t usually the easiest thing for a vegan in France, it’s not a whole lot easier in the Philippines, and I was prepared to quite happily eat salads, bread and wine without a peep of resistance. But I also needed the chance to re-introduce myself to Paris. Paris and I have not had the best of experiences in the past.