29 December, 2013


It's been ages since I last wrote and I can't even promise I'll be back on posting regularly. But I surely miss writing, it has always had a therapeutic effect on me. One I need at the moment.

It's incredible thinking that only a week ago, I was in Paris. Yes! I finally made it happen. Because when you really want to achieve something, you can. Dreams come true, not thanks to some supernatural powers, but your own will and hard work.

Having climbed Arc de Triomphe and the Tour Eiffel, been inside the Sacré-Cœur and Notre-Dame, seen art in the Musée d'Orsay and the Louvre, and walked a countless number of streets, I can confirm that Paris is one magical place, a spectacular city and anything you want it to be. I've fallen in love with it before even visiting, and now I'm head over heels. Admittedly, I'm not sure if I want it to be my final destination, but definitely one of the stops in the journey of life. A plan I have thought of is simple – leaving Glasgow for London, and after a year or two going off to Paris. For three years or so. We'll see.

The first word that comes to my mind when I think of Paris is... space. Not only because it's huge, but the streets (well, some of them) are wide and the sky seems endless. As if there were no limits whatsoever, and not only in regards to the city, but to life in general. You can do anything. Who wouldn't like such a feeling? I do for sure. Can only imagine what it's like being there all the time, walking these streets day to day.

I might not have tasted the perfect French café au lait while watching people passing by. But I have still experienced Paris in my very own way, by myself, constantly thinking and rethinking all sorts of matters. There's no one right way to travel, of that I'm certain.

My individualism wasn't entire though. If it wasn't for the smiles and laugh shared with some fellow travellers, the trip wouldn't have been nearly as amazing. The man in front of me on the train from Glasgow to London: him getting off earlier, leaving me a chocolate Santa and wishing a merry Christmas. The boy on the bus from London to Paris who has never seen snow: us walking around the Eurotunnel, listening to music and playing dots&boxes (I lost). The girl I met in the lovely hostel I was staying at: us walking to the Sacré-Cœur and then towards the Louvre together. The boy I met in the hostel (once again): him saving me from starving and us having a great evening together with other people from all over the place. The woman I met in the bus stop: her talking to me in a mix of French and English, and us finding a roof over our heads that was needed for a few hours in the form of the reception of a four-star hotel.

All the goodbyes felt rushed and sad; I get attached to people awfully easily and it's strange thinking I'll most likely never see any of them again. In this case of course, I also simply didn't want to leave, even though I knew I have friends waiting to see me back home. The good thing is, I'll come back. Don't know when, but I have no doubts about it.

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