Paris

Paris is the city for wandering. I think that you should be checked that you have both sensible walking shoes and blister blockers for when you come through customs.

We had a wonderful time seeing the sights. Together and separately, Simon and I wandered our feet off... in my case literally. Walking along the Seine, finding unusual parks that inspire us to create our own château. Across from our hotel was a market - mostly closed because it was summer and most Parisians go on holiday during summer - we bought fresh baguettes, French wine, cheese, and blueberry compote, pastries and took it to Belleview park. We enjoyed a very French luncheon in the shade near fountains over looking the city - would you want to live any other way?

Warm sun, good food, a truly romantic way to spend a few hours.

Whilst wanderings around the streets, we stumbled into Lafayette - a department store so stunning it would be a museum in Australia. A domed, stain-glass ceiling over-hangs floors and floors of exquisite designer clothes. From the roof-top, you can see all of sprawling Paris. The only hill - Montmartre, the Eiffel Tower, a breathtaking panorama.

The Louvre was like every museum, full of priceless works of art - it was however very crowded - I was a little sad was that I wasn't blown away by the artworks there. The Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, etc. I have seen so many times in books and films that seeing them in the flesh - so to speak - wasn't as moving as I hoped it to be. Maybe there was too much build-up in my head.

Across the street from the Louvre is The Salon de Angelina - aka Angelina's. Join the queue out the front and wait for a table, then be prepared to enter a diabetic coma because they have the most fabulous hot chocolates and pastries and cakes... they are simply to die for. Given the opportunity I would move to Paris, just to eat there over and over again. Of course, by the time I had finished out the week, the staff wouldn't be able to get me through the door, but no-one would blame me...

My mother was a chef in a French restaurant for a time when I was about 5. We would often have croissants for breakfast, and always we would have butter and jam or honey with them. I made it one of my missions to find out how the French eat their breakfast bread. So I sat in a cafes eating French breakfasts - coffee, orange juice, bread (usually half a small baguette) and a croissant with a little pot of jam and butter. It turns out that the French only usually eat croissants on the weekend - like a little treat, and they don't usually put anything on them, apparently the jam and butter is for the warm baguette and the croissant is to dip into your coffee... or at least that's how it appears. I won't get over the taste of the fresh warm pastry, crisply crumbling smothered with butter and jam... just unforgettable.

I wandered the back streets of Montmartre, I climbed the steps and checked out the view from La Basilique du Sacré-coeur - well worth the walk and spent time in the Dali museum - which I think my dad would love it, if only I could get him to leave Australia.

One evening Simon and I had a hankering for Thai food. We checked out our guide book and found one that seemed to be exactly what we were after. So after trekking much further than we had anticipated, our brilliant plan of eating Thai goodness, we found ourselves at yet another closed restaurant. Not to be disheartened, we figured that mostly restaurants keep to their own kind so wandered a little further and found another place to sample. Although the waiter only spoke broken English, we managed to order a dinner for 2. I was feeling adventurous and a little rushed and basically chose at random from the menu when it was my turn to order. We received our main and mine had white meat and fine bones. It turns out that I had ordered fusion food. It was Thai spices with a French flair. Frog legs. (one wonders what they do with the rest of the thing) Frog tastes kind of watery.

We actually got out of Paris - sort of - for one day. It was just unfortunate that I had accidentally miss-booked the hotel - oops. We had found our way to Versailles when we received the call from our hotel, "Why haven't you checked out?" So regrettably after much embarrassment on my part and us only getting to see the outside of the estate, that we turned around and headed back to the city. Versailles is on top of my list of things to do when I get back to France. That and Angelina's of course. It was at Versailles that we encountered our first example of French passion. We were speaking with a woman trying to ensure that we could get back into the museum as our tickets had already been stamped. A misunderstanding ensued - as it often does with me - and the woman thought that we were hoping to see Versailles in an hour. She started yelling - not angrily but with great passion - "HOW could you think you could see any of Versailles in an hour!?! It would take 3 DAYS to see it properly!" Obviously very proud and passionate about her work. Sadly, we didn't go back to see it, but it will be the first thing I do when I get back to the most beautiful city in the world.