Dezemba!

Five years ago (holy crap) on my gap year I went to Paris. It was my first holiday alone and my first holiday that I had paid for myself. I'm a proud daughter of Beyonce, y'know.

People in magazines always say that travel is an investment and it can sound a bit bougie and trite but it really is. Those days in Paris are some of my happiest days yet. Actually, my heart still does the moonwalk when I think about it.

It isn't about the actual attractions and sights, which are great; but the feeling, the freedom and the fuck-yeah-nobody-knows-me joy. 

On top of that, traveling alone is the binary joy of feeling like a god and a lunatic at the same time, that's Nietz by the way. The god-like part comes with doing whaddevadafuq you want. Of course you can, technically, always do want you want but lame things like money and work kinda ruin that. So y'know, I indulged my impulses, looking after Number One was the name of the game, you dig? Henry Miller wrote that everyday we slaughter our finest impulses, but not on holiday Mr. Miller, if you're doing it right of course.

The lunatic part included me being giddy with joy at the mere sight of a boulangerie, beyzus that word?! Say it three times and it sounds like a magic spell. Also, I was a bit cray because for my entire holiday I hardly spoke to anyone and if I did, I didn't know what I was saying and it appeared neither did they. Also, once you return from your voyage, people at home don't care, they really, really don't... Oh the Arc De Triomphe, that's nice... This can lead to thoughts like: did it really happen? And why does everyone hate me? 

Basically, holidays are so much more than just new Facebook photos and expensive shopping trips. I hate how The Man tries to paint travel as a luxury, experiencing yourself via a new environment is something that everyone should enjoy often. EasyJet save us all! 

But back to the point, in less than two weeks Tommy and I will be in Paris! I have a sneaking suspicious that this is going to be my favorite holiday ever-ever. I have come to this conclusion for several reasons: 

1. IT'S FUCKING PARIS!

2. Tom.

3. PARIS GODDAMN!

“He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime.” 

Victor Hugo