Okay. Confession time.
I visited Paris 11 years ago when I was 13 years old and I didn't warm to it. I believe I used the word 'hate' at some point.
My 13 year old brain could not fathom how such a "grey and bleak" (direct quote) city with dog poo covering the footpaths could possibly have been labelled a 'romantic city'. I also seem to recall claiming that I would "never go there again".
All this in contrast with how much I fell in love with London, which doesn't quite seem to make sense when you consider how grey and bleak London is majority of the time. To say I was a weird kid would be an understatement.
The odd part of my last trip is that I actually loved all the things I saw/did, such as the Eiffel Tower, Versailles and the Musee D'Orsay. I just didn't warm to the city itself, which is the thing that most people fall in love with.
This time, however, I am over-the-moon excited to be visiting Paris for 10 whole days. I sit and stare at photos day after day, imagining myself there. I also can't wait to lose my macaron virginity, as I've been saving myself for the perfect real French one.
I've convinced myself that being older (but not necessarily wiser) at 24 means that I will completely fall in love with it, as millions of others do each year. And I am completely determined to do so, pain au chocolat in hand.
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