Things I love about France

• Being female is definitely a bonus when it comes to day to day tasks. Yesterday I went to pick up my bags from the freight section of Charles de Gaulle airport (taxi driver had no idea where it was, woman on the phone was no help either). The guy controlling the entry to the loading docks wouldnt let the taxi inside to wait, nor would he let him park just outside the gate. I was panicky and desperate, so I pulled out the big guns: a sad little puppy dog, begging, pleading female face, eyelashes fluttering “s’il vous plait monsieur, I’ll only be 10 minutes, I promise…..”. He kinda shrugs his shoulders, smiles and lets the taxi park. Yippee! So then, after running around to 50 different counters to get all sorts of papers stamped and cross-checked, I finally make it back to the place where they actually get my bags. By this stage, its 15mins after I’ve arrived and I’m worried about the taxi meter and the guy at the entry. There are 2 guys standing in line before me. There seem to be lots of men walking around behind the counter but none of them want to serve us. So I pull out the sad puppy dog “I’m just a little Australian girl who doesnt know what to do, will some virile competent male help me?” face and make eye contact with every man that walks past behind the counter. And wouldnt you know it: they spring into action. Seems like every guy behind the desk wants to help now? I hand over my papers. They hear my accent. They ask me to sign a form. A younger guy hovering nearby says in French “and if you can include your telephone number as well….”. This gets them all laughing. ‘I dont speak French, I’m sorry”, I said with a grin and eyes lowered as I signed the papers. Man behind the counter asks if I have a car outside and I say no, I have a taxi waiting. “Well then, I’ll get your bags really quickly!”. 3 minutes later and I’m being shown to another area where my bags are being carried out on a forklift. He drives it all the way outside, right to the boot of the taxi and helps me unload the bags. I give a big smile to the guy at the boom gate and he smiles back with an excited lift of his eyebrows. Another big smile from forklift man, and an “au revoir madame” and he’s off. Hurrah! The feminist in me despises my behaviour and the fact that men see physical appearance and gender as a motivating factor. But another part of me says ha!, i got the power baby! that little bit of mascara just saved me a lot of time and effort and if they’re so fickle as to fall for some Maybelline, well i might as well use it! In the end though, it is very nice to be flirted with, especially by French men. The little game of seduction, even if it doesnt lead to anything, is always fun to play. Ah, I’m such a girl…..
• Having easy access to Zara and H&M. Hallelujah. May the Lord/Buddha shine down on you both forever.
• I dont know how they do it, but French men can pull off a pair of jeans, a shirt and a v-neck jumper like nothing else. Its so simple, so why do they look so hot?
• French women have mastered the art of the smokey eye. I have made it my mission to stare at women on the metro in the hope of learning their secret……
• Rude shop assistants. Every now and then you get a really bad one. Like the chick at the change room entry in Zara today. Deadpan face, “how many items?”, when I return them she practically pulls them out of my arms and hurls them on a seat. LOL. its hilarious. I know you can get bad shop assistants everywhere in the world, but French women seem to know exactly how to express the fullest possible extent of their unhappiness and frustration. Thats worthy of a gold medal.
• Eclairs au chocolats. OK, this isnt anything new to those who know me. Yes, I’m testing eclair au chocolat all around Paris to find the perfect one. But damn, they’re all so good. Full of sweet, custardy, chocolatey goodness, not too sweet, light as a feather pastry case, thin layer of choc icing on the top for the real sweet kick. They’re enough for a meal. I have restrained myself SO much. I have only eaten one in a whole week, despite seeing them at least a dozen times a day (damn boulangeries, why are they on every street corner in Paris????). When I die, I want to be buried, Egyptian Queen style, in a coffin full of eclair au chocolats, so I will have plenty with me in the afterlife.

More to come…..