In the beginning there was…. an idea. I left my home town of Melbourne, Australia in search of some headspace after a long and winding year. Early december found me among Japan’s seething mass of humanity,
staring at the wonderful and bizarre lolita/goth kids,
wallowing in the delight of Hokien noodles,
wandering the laneways of Tokyo with old photography pal, Azusa and, after a drink or two, crashing my bicycle at 5 am while trying to perform certain circus-like acts! (No animals other than myself were injured – scar is STILL healing).
8am on the same morning found me sitting on a jumbo, relieved to have made the flight but badly hungover and highly agitated upon seeing my immediate seat neighbours for the next 14 hours – 2 nice enough english folk…and their TWO screaming babies! Yep, you betcha, I scored the seat everyone dreads – right up at the bulkhead, video screen at a neckbrace -inducing angle and a baby basinet inches from my face. It was a truly nightmarish scene, à la Gary Larson cartoon.
Arrived in Paris, via a stopover in London which included a serious frisking from our friends(?) at customs (these new anti-terrorism laws are OTT – my friend, Magoo, had her Nutella confiscated), feeling surpisingly refreshed despite my nightmarish neighbours.
Apparently Paris has cracked down on its dog faeces problem, but in my opinion that’s only the case if you’re perhaps doing laps of the Arc de Triomphe and nothing else!
Last night was NYE and, although dining and drinking alone at Le Mecano bar I did score a double sided kiss from the male bartender with a five o’clock shadow who later performed a strip-tease much to the ladies praise (sitting in my own little corner i had wondered what all the noise was about and why my section had emptied of females. Then, when the frenchies who had taken pity on me returned, I was given the explanation and this photo to boot).
image by Arina from Romania