The Ryndex

I spent ten glorious days in Paris and easily could have spent more. My list of things I still haven’t seen is constantly growing.

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As a birthday gift to myself, I sent myself to Paris. I don’t think I could have picked a better way to start a new decade then by getting off the american continent and expanding my world a little further.

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It’s cold it’s cold it’s cold. It’s frickin’ freezing France. I get back from balmy Canada where the most we have to worry about is a bit of hoarfrost (well, in the west, anyway) and Paris has had eight centimetres of snow. It hasn’t snowed in Paris for five years and all of a sudden it decides to welcome me back with a raging blizzard. Well, there was snow on the ground anyway.

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Well, Happy New Years! Out with dusty old palindromic two-thou-two and welcome to kinky two-naughty-naught-three. A new year and a new Doomsday to remember (Friday, if you haven’t already calculated it). I’m now a year-old Parisian, bright and fresh and ready to face the baguettes. But for a special treat, I’m not going to talk about France, the French or Paris for my first travel log this year.

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