Ce soir.
It is the final night of my 'Europe for a Novice' trip. I remember over 7 months ago I was sitting out the back of work with those tickets fresh off the press in my hot little hands, waving my arms and ass about with excitement because it was official: I was going to France. I didn't give a rat's ass about anywhere else. All I wanted was to kiss the soil as soon as I landed in Paris and to just find a writers' convent somewhere and disappear forever.
Things happened, a visa became harder to obtain and by the end of a hectic year of two law courses, advanced French, full time work and continuous lifestyle changes I was completely worn out and keen for just escaping: booking the first week of accommodation and then just floating along with whatever happened and wherever life took me.
After getting the hell out of Kuwait (Newcastle, just wanted to chuck in an irrelevant Pitch Perfect reference because lesbihonest, who doesn't?), I hung around like a fart in Port for two months, and packed up everything I owned into the back of my Granny's car, destination: 2446 (R3PR353NT BR05K1). The next day I was off to Sydney and then two days later I was suddenly scaling the snowy hill of Montmartre, completely alone and completely overwhelmed with self-satisfaction.
That plan (though not much of a plan) lasted all of a week before that even more life-changing opportunity put the ball in my court: University? Living in Paris? Waking up on a Sunday (Dimanche) without the hassle of an 8:30 am start at work counting the skrilla and dawdling along quiet city streets, munching on white bread without anyone to scream "ONCE ON THE LIPS FOREVER ON THE HIPS!!!!!!!!!" ? Having friends over from wherever they were visiting from and speaking french to my (yes, my) butcher in front of them, impressing them endlessly with my flawless accent? Um. Yep. Can't say no to that.
And so, knowing I would come back to Paris I left to explore other places. I was in Europe, afterall.
France, England, Wales, Scotland, Belgium, Germany, the Czech Republic, The Netherlands: I took it slow and did things however the hell I felt like on the day. I was on no tour, no schedule run by another person, I was alone to do what I wanted, when I wanted, without anyone else dragging me back (or vice versa).
And I met the loveliest people:
- Estelle and Antoinn, my original housemates for my first week of Paris who were quirky and completely original and I believe showed me the real way to experience Paris: planning nothing. They also showed me a YouTube video of a Racoon stealing a door mat by pulling it through a cat flap.
- fellow Aussies in Paris (one who I knew, another who I met randomly in Starbucks and ended up at the party of the night before venturing off to London);
- my uni buddy's housemate, whose name is my favourite processed meat;
- my dad's cousin's friend's son (that's a mouthful on its own) who must be pretty cool because he's into aviation, and in my family, you'll pass with flying colours (yeah I did use that pun);
- my cousin (who I have actually met before - the story goes that when I was two, I was afraid of him, screaming at him and hiding away into my mum's boobies *hushed whisper "boobies"*), who showed me the delights of Brixton's international food market hall Shoreditch's Brick Lane and, of course, Bacon St *drools*;
- Karen, David, and their family, who I stayed with up along the Welsh border and was spoilt rotten with delicious sights and bites;
-my Amsterdam Scottish buddies John and Ross, who drank their weight in Buckfast and then paraded around with ginger hair and tartan berets, buying me beer and Captain Morgan all night;
-the Queen's Day troupe - Taize, Bron, Gav, Josh, and Kaylee (well can I just say, that was enlightening............ note to self: don't smoke pot, it makes you eat an entire bucket of Ben and Jerry's on your own. As well as Belgian Frites, hot chocolate and pizza...... and a chicken wrap... Another note to self: shrooms are funny and then they're not and then for the remainder of your high you're debating whether or not they're funny and then the high is over and you're devon sanga and suddenly fangin' for a sanga after not eating all day)
Kaylee and Josh and I traversed about Germany for days following and it was lovely to have company and enless Miranda Sings references and sing-a-longs. And to Laura for having us stay and claim her couch before we all parted ways, I thank you for your hospitality and cute attempts at naming animals in English.
In my time between saying goodbye to the girls (hey Josh) yesterday and now, I have achieved the status of Atreyu, getting my very own Auryn necklace and riding Falkor the luck dragon whilst Limahl plays in the background, and to top it all off, riding a bus for 13 hours watching Whose Line Is It Anyway?
So yes, I am reminiscing already, but I am bloody excited to land in Sydney, go straight to a pub in the city and eat schnitty and smell like 2 days of travelling but not care because I'm with my mum eating a fucking schnitty with mushroom sauce and sculling beer and then listening to Raoul Malo, Fleet Foxes, Van Morrison, Jimmy Buffet, Pam Tillis, Clay Walker and Chris Isaak in the car home. Upon getting home, I will take about 20 thousand selfies of me with Heff and post them here. Stay tuned.
My travels are far from over, I will be back in London in July for a summer tour around the Mediterranean and then ready for university (LIVING IN MY VERY OWN APARTMENT WHAT) in September. Gosh. God is good. Nah, he's not good. He's bloody fantastic.
