It’s inevitable really. You go to a holiday city and spend the majority of your time on the beach. You’re mixing with a similar sort of crowd in each city. You spend your days shopping and drinking mojitos. You get a tan.

It was never my intention to come to Europe on holiday. I am so fascinated by different cultures, their foods, the history surrounding the cultures, the architecture, the politics, the people. I love getting lost in a city.

Today I got lost in Nice, two days ago I got lost in Barcelona.

My motivation for even being in Europe was my love of getting lost, and it’s hard to get lost on a beach. These old towns are riddled with tiny back streets and people with stories. In Barcelona I met a man on the streets who hadn’t eaten for three days. Maybe it’s a hidden saviour complex, but he had the most beautiful soul and I was more than happy to share my crepe with him. Sarah said that its moments like these that she wants to remember.

I love learning the languages. The language barriers have been hilarious and today I almost had my hair dyed purple instead of buying a shampoo. French is beautiful. In Paris there’s a committee dedicated to preserving the language. Their pride in their country overwhelms me, they believe their history to be so important, and preserve their country in its absolute best.

I disagree with the stereotypes, it’s not arrogance, it’s pride. And it’s realisations like these that let me know I’m not just holidaying in the South of Frace.

In a drunken stupor yesterday evening I decided everyone who’s not in France should miss France. You’d be stupid not to.

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