I have lived in Paris for almost exactly 8 years, and whilst itโs fair to say Iโve long since been pretty damn parisienne, Iโm clearly not โ nor will I ever be โ French. Iโm very comfortable in this country; more at home than Iโve ever felt anywhere else; thoroughly assimilated in a culture that made more sense to me than the one I grew up in long before I even moved here. But I donโt have the references of a native franรงaise, having neither been raised in France, nor by French parents.
Lyonnais Love Affair (Part 1/2)
Surprise, surprise, Iโm writing this blog post on a train - speeding through the French countryside, direction Paris, somewhere in the vague vicinity of Dijon. Itโs a perfect โgolden hourโ, the rolling wheat fields and villages of tiny terracotta-roofed cottages bathed in the gorgeous glow of the setting sun. Iโm reminded of how much I... Continue Reading →
Flying Solo
Solo travel is a special kind of time to yourself, when thereโs no obligation or pressure to do anything specific or productive. How often, in the busy balancing act of grown-up life, do we get the opportunity to spend several (waking) hours in total repose, without any guilt or consequences?
