In order for me to correctly update my where I’ve been map – I have to write a little something about each country I have visited. In fact, a simple photo would suffice, but considering the fact that France was only my 2nd visited country all those years ago – I have none.
And to be honest, there isn’t that much to write about. I did very French things like drink expensive coffee in pretentious places and ate my bodyweight in croissants. I watched mimers in the street and didn’t find them quite as endearing as everyone else seemed to find them. I ate food which now makes me wince because the older and better-read me now knows the truth behind it. (Foie gras?! N’importe quoi!!)
This poignant period of my life gave birth to my; ‘French Accent Goggles Syndrome.’ A serious, debilitating and chronic condition, which renders me mentally paralysed and unable to use logic when hearing a woman speak in ze sexy Franglais.
Side effects include poor decisions, week knees and a wild stirring in my loins. Friends say it’s curable, but I’m not sure they quite understand the severity. I’m still seeking therapy, but no one seems to master in my disorder.
Maybe I didn’t try enough. Maybe it’s because I like polite people and I found the French anything but. Maybe it’s because Western Europe just doesn’t seem to ‘do it’ for me.
I simply didn’t love France and you will not be seeing me proudly sharing enthusiastic photos in front of the Eiffel Tower, or pretending to be calm in the queue at Le Louvre. If you’re a Francophile and this post has gotten your French Knickers in a twist, then je suis désolé. We’ll just have to agree to disagree.
But it was all worth it for the sexy accent.
And I regret nothing.
Song for the Moment: Non, je ne regrette rien, by Edith Piaf
“Non, Rien de rien
Non, Je ne regrette rien.”