I hate heat, humidity and sunshine so, each year, I exchange desperately sweating through Australia's hottest summer months for delightedly goosepimpling through the coldest Paris winter months.
Last year, while I was here, it snowed! Snow it Paris is something else! And graffiti in the snow in Paris is something else yet again, have a look:
Ahhh, Paris, the city of "I-Love-Yous" and the city of closeness when it comes to parking.
Not that I would dare driving in Paris, despite the fact that, as a pedestrian, you get the thrill of confronting mortality each time you cross the road, even when the green little traffic-light-man is showing that it's your turn now, provided you are fast. The Parisian car driver not only does not try to avoid you, he actually actively AIMS for you - none of that I-am-safe feeling we have in Oz when crossing a road.
But I'd still rather be a human pedestrian crossing the Place de la Bastille, than an animal (other than a pet) in France.
Peter Singer, where are you when you are really needed??? !!!!
Free Range eggs are far more difficult to find here than Pate de foie Gras, and while I'm not quite sure about the spelling of the latter, I know about the method by which that one is made.
Have to stop now, am invited to my friend A.'s place for dinner. Hypocrite that I am, I will not have the courage to tell her that little pigs are people too, and lovely people at that, when she serves her delicious speciality, a very typical French winter dish: "endives au jambon" And I fear, she will have spared no (financial) expense and serve Paté de foie gras aux truffles as a first course, in honour of the Australian visitor....
Pontius Pilatus signing off.
A+
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