Part 8: The Real Paris

From what I have discovered, it isn't the city of romance. Although it is everything else that you think it is and more. Riding through the streets and on the banks of the river you see buildings over 500 years old, you see tourist attractions every 2 minutes and plainly it just doesn't seem real. Paris is a place where you can be drunk and running down the street screaming your head off at nothing one second, and then having a friendly conversation with a gang of 10 'hardcores' the next. No one really cares about the road rules, beer tastes better here, and it's cold. I get jealous when I see that it got to 5 degrees somewhere in the world. The real Paris includes the people having a sense of arrogance because everyone in the world wants to be in their city, so yes, I fit in just fine. Today was the first day I got the question "do you live with kangaroos and koalas in your cities?" "Yes, sometimes you see them on public transport and you just nod and continue."....that's not what I said, which is a good thing because that wasn't funny. I'll keep trying.
Another thing about Paris is that there is not really any slang, not like the banana hektik shit we come up with in Australia, and no one here seems to know the real Australian. Apparently we all surf. Never mind though because there is one Australian who is prepared to publicly humiliate and embarrass himself, again, to show the real Paris the real Australian. How that benefits anyone I'm not exactly sure but I feel like I have an obligation to do something along those lines.
The real Paris is always enjoying the company you're with, enjoying the beauty of the city and the atmosphere of the culture. 
The real Paris, mainly, is about cheese. Lots of cheese. Lots of cheese in the fridge here, with pasta and fruit. At least I'll lose some weight. And the smell of the cheese - horrible. I seem to be always talking about Australia, the things that make it special and the amazing people I have back home. When I have time to just sit back and think, I think about my friends in Australia. I think about the weather, the beaches, the desert. Every day the thoughts of my friends are stronger, and I am now under 7 weeks away from seeing their beautiful faces again. And Coda. wooo
For now I wait, I sit in 8 hours of philiosophy a week understanding nothing that comes out of a lady that looks like a frog, and I (when im not sleeping) think about everyone and that what certain people said is coming true: I am becoming nice, still arrogant, but nice, and polite. The people of Paris bring it out of each other. That's the real Paris.

Favorite photo from England