French Chic (chicks)

16 Jun

From one extreme to another. In Florida I felt as though I could resurrect the bikini ( not seen in my wardrobe since 1997) and in France, I wanted to lobby the government to reintroduce the burqa. French chicks are impossibly chic, slim and sexy. They eat all things creamy, washed down with red wine and mopped up with several slices of baguette. Then they bounce down the street teetering on gorgeous high heels, complimented by a pair of size 8 jeans. Of course I returned to my room and madly googled this phenomenon. Apparently it is about quantity and no snacking…..blah blah. At least they have bad breath from all of those garlic snails and cigarettes. Hang on, they also have a low incidence of lung cancer.
Anyway, Paris was wonderful. Very smelly but absolutely stunning. Kind of like blue cheese. The buildings, monuments and eateries are certainly one of a kind. I loved perusing the patisseries, charcuteries and fromageries. I also snuck in a little Agnes B purchase…..
We left Paris this morning and drove to Brugge. Now this is a seriously gorgeous place. Picture postcard perfect but bloody expensive. We foolishly picked a cafe in the town square ( the heartland of the tourist) to have a little snack and a coffee. Robb ordered tap water for the kids and was told by Ernst the slightly aggressive waiter, that it was not possible. They only provided bottled water. The bill came and we were charged 18 euro for two 475 ml bottles of water. Out-bloody-rageous!
We strode out of tourist Mecca and took to the charming back streets. It was here that we were rewarded with our first smile. Henry bought some hand picked chocolates and we took them back to our room and sat and savoured every bite. Yes, I know, French chicks wouldn’t have snacked and gorged between meals.

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Posted by on June 16, 2011 in Diary


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