How to be French (in 19 hours)

French culture is not only fantastic, but it is incredibly renowned. For cuisine alone, Franceland is home to several stereotypical delicacies which are delicious to munch. With foie gras in mind, amongst other great French stuff like curly moustaches, but only 19 hours in Paris... I attempted to become a Frenchy.

Here's how:

Wine
Lyon-living English pal Alex Drake and I had a hearty whine after seeing The Postal Service on Tuesday evening. As they were the purpose of our venture, their performance was in need of an analysis. They were awesome! However, I went on about their colour scheme a bit, and Drake wasn't best pleased with some of their song alterations. We had a slurp of beer and a catch up after the much needed deconstruction. With only being in Paris some mere hours at this point, and time being of the essence, discussing red/white regions and which-bottle-is-the-best just couldn't be fitted in. So complaining a little whilst in Paris was the only French whining we managed.

Parisians
There was no chance in such a short space of time I could become Parisian. However, Alex introduced me to his friend Solal - a Paris born and raised cool cat, who kindly accommodated the visit. Solal had a piano in his bedroom and had been to the opera on a revision break that afternoon. He was absolutely brilliant and the closest I have ever come to a true, true Frenchy. I can only hope his ways have echoed onto me after such a short time in his presence (je te remercie beaucoup de m'avoir recu chez toi).

Stripes
After a night's rest in Solal's beautiful apartment, Alex led us from the 9th arrondissement to the Jewish quarter of the city - Le Marais. This area is home to falafel and cheap thrift shops - of which had sections dedicated to striped attire (so great/French). We made some quick decisions, and Alex quickly bagged himself a Screech-like shirt (so great/90s), and I got myself a 10eur stripy jumper by lunch time.

Baguettes
After thrift shop purchases were made, Alex said au revoir and I headed towards Gare Du Nord. With only minutes to spare before my Thalys left the station, I stumbled across a boulangerie by Rambuteau metro. I chucked three baguettes in my bag and hopped along to the train (I did pay for them. Like our Parisian garments, they were also pretty cheap). My housemates were delighted by the foreign bread I insisted them eating that evening.

Although Paris was fleeting - it was by all means worthwhile. I have returned to The Netherlands rich in Franceness and am essentially Gaultier. Merci Alex, Solal, Gibbard, and Paris. And also the Thalys train for letting me bop along three countries in two hours or so. You're also tres magnifique. 'Til next time Pareeeeeee