Paris 2005 -- Where it all began ...

Ever had one of those really bad days? Or weeks? Or months? Life had been kinda crap for me for a while. My marriage had disintergrated (admittedly, I was the one who called it quits, I'm sure things sucked many more balls for my ex), I was dealing with parental relationship stuff, taking on extra responsibilities at work, maintaining my somewhat lacklustre social life and [foolishly] participating in faaaar too many extra activities (art, ballet, WASO chorus, classes in acting, scripting, directing and music theatre at the Actors Workshop, training at the UWA Fencing Club ... I'm getting tired just writing this list -- don't know how I did it at the time!)

There was one particularly sterling night, where, at a dinner with my extended family, the news of my doomed relation was unceremoniously broached: "Where's your other half?" "Erm, we've been separated since the start of this year." "Oh."

Post-dinner, whilst wallowing in self pity, I thought, my life is so ugly right now. I want to see something beautiful. What's beautiful? Art. Art -- the Louvre. The Louvre -- Paris. I want to go to Paris. What, are you insane? Well, if my life right now is sanity, hand me a straight jacket.

And off I went, merrily, to travel alone when I'd never travelled alone before, to a place where I'd never been before, where I didn't speak the language and the locals were reputed to be the snob of the earth. It was great! (By the way, the Parisians and the French in general are lovely, their pooheadedness is a fallacy).