In a little over four weeks I will be embarking on the trip of a lifetime, travelling from Paris to Prague with my Mum. I am so excited to have the opportunity to share my experiences in discovering and re-discovering some of the ancient and modern splendours of Europe.
First port of call will be Paris, which I last visited as a twenty four year old. Twenty seven years ago. Back then my sister and I were on another "trip of a lifetime", arriving in the City of Light after a kind Parisian offered a lift to two Aussie hitch hikers in the German countryside. La Tour Eiffel, Le Louvre, Le Champs Elysees, L'arc de Triomphe, Le Palais de Versailles, Centre Georges Pompidou - how we immersed ourselves in this wonderful city and loved every minute of it!
Robyn and I had begun our European odyssey two months earlier in Athens where we formed a travelling party of five lively twenty-somethings eager to experience ouzo, sun, beach, frivolity and more ouzo. We made many new friends along the way, including an elegant American ballerina called Kim, who lived with her US Diplomat parents in Paris and who was taking a short break on the beautiful island of Santorini. When we parted company after ten days, we exchanged addresses and promised Kim we would come and stay with her in Paris. She was eager to return our friendship by showing us around her adopted city in a style which far exceeded our backpacker budgets.
Once in Paris, Robyn and I were excited to find our way to Kim’s address and were amazed at the affluence. Oh, to have such important parents! How different her life must be! When I asked the concierge, in perfect (high school) French, for the name written on our scrap of paper, he did not know this family. I asked again, thinking it must be my rusty French accent that he could not understand. Non, he insisted, no-one by that name living there. I showed him my scrap of paper to prove we had the correct address. Then Voila! The moment of realisation hit him! We followed him to the top floor of this opulent building and were led down a passageway where the lavishness morphed before our eyes into destitution. Votre amie habite ici – your friend must live here! And then he was gone. We were left in a dark passage with a hundred doors, paint peeling with dirt and grime which had accumulated over many, many years. The servants’ quarters. We knocked on a couple of doors – we naïve Catholic girls could not quite believe that “our friend” Kim could have deceived us. The vacant looks in the eyes of the occupants and the slovenly conditions we spied beyond the doorways told us we had no business being here. We left hastily, deflated.
Now, at the age of 51, I hope I won’t be so naïve when I visit Paris this July. However, I know I will have plenty of youthful excitement and will be ready for any new adventure that comes my way. I can’t wait.
Til next time...
Julie
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