When Turning 22 is Only The Beginning //

How did I get here? Am I seriously 22?
A confusing concoction of 18 and 30 all at once /
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Now, I’m [really] not a big fan of Taylor Swift but before her song ‘22‘, there really wasn’t much to celebrate about your 22nd birthday, right? Still recovering from the debauchery that was your 21st, you find yourself tempted to just call it quits on this whole birthday business. This particular milestone seems to just herald in the insecurities of our twenties. It’s time to a have a life plan. It’s time to be a real person. (Of course, being in a position to really feel this anxiety is actually a unique privilege of its own. Many twenty-two-year-olds have been members of the “real world” for quite some time, and the rest of us— myself included—would be well-served to remember that. Then again, I have been hurled down a couple of life’s gauntlets – that has to count for something?)

When we were growing up, birthdays were eagerly anticipated because they meant change. Another year older, another grade higher. A year closer to some idealised fantasy birthday with all its imagined privileges: closer to 13, closer to 16, to 18, to 20, to 21. We got a taste of the anticlimactic birthday when we turned 19, caught in between two real milestones, waiting it out for 365 days.

Now, it seems like birthdays are more about how much time has passed rather than how much time is ahead. But 22 is a bit young for a full-blown existential crisis of mortality. Twenty-two is more about a general sense of unease. Twenty-two is also, to put it frankly, kind of boring. Not a lot changes when you turn 22.

With these cheery thoughts rattling in my head, I watched the days of the calendar lurch bye and my own birthday draw closer. And now, here it is. I’m turning 22, and to be honest, it doesn’t feel like there’s much to write home about. My life is more uncertain than it has ever been. I’m a final-year student of university, who has no concrete idea what she’ll be doing next year, who has yet to see whether her design pursuits will pay off as an actual job, who also really isn’t sure what the next step ought to be. And while I know it’s an artificial distinction, 22 feels substantively different from 21. Twenty-two feels like the on-ramp to the highway of true adulthood, and I’m still riding a tricycle in my backyard.

It’s all too tempting to throw myself a pity party instead of a birthday celebration. As markers of time and age, birthdays are often caught in the uncomfortable space between the future and the past. Today, it’s easy to focus on the uncertainty of my future or to fixate on my nostalgia for the past.
It’s even easier to get caught up in the narcissistic cult of the birthday: This is my day, and I deserve it.

But instead, I want to spend today in the present. I don’t want to think about how far I’ve come or how far I have to go. I want to think about what this moment feels like. As twenty-somethings, we are often pushed to be constantly reaching beyond our present toward some idealised future. Sometimes, it seems like our childhood eagerness for the fantasy birthday—our belief that the next year will bring something bigger and better—metastasises in our twenties. We become so fixated on living in the future that we forget to breathe in the present.

So today, the day after my 22nd birthday, I’m going to breathe. And tomorrow, on the second day after my 22nd birthday, I’m going to breathe again. I am going to experience life before I analyse it and I am going to untether my self-worth from the certainty of my five-year plan. This will be the gift I give to myself to mark yet another year successfully completed: the chance to actually experience the present (all puns intended!) and the room to breathe.

I have been so focused on all the anxiety weighing on my birthday that I forgot how lucky I am to have people in my life who want me to enjoy it, and who are thinking of me at this time. That’s what really changes as we grow older. We can decide, decipher and hopefully accrue more and more people who love us, more and more people who want to celebrate us.

The adage that age is just a number rings true on my 22nd birthday. While I feel less certain at 22 than I did at 18, that’s actually OK. Life is more complicated now, and there are more options available to me. And that’s a good thing.

I’m not the biggest Taylor Swift fan, and I’d actually never ‘listened‘ to her anthem ’22’ until this very morning. While I’m going to refrain from commenting on T-Swift’s musical stylings (after all, there’s a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women [Madeline Albright/Taylor Swift]), I’m going to leave you with a nugget of genuine wisdom:

“We’re happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time.It’s miserable and magical, oh yeah.Tonight’s the night when we forget about the deadlines.”

Do what you love, and love what you do. Life is now about enjoying the present – which will determine your road ahead.
We are nothing without those around us to share the journey with.
Find, keep, explore, grow, experience and travel along with those who you love. Who inspire. Who give your energy. Who delight and encourage. Who set your spirit free. Who will always bring you back to reality. Who will dream with you. Who will enrich your life. Who give you constant stability.
These people will be the best life investments. Yet the first person you must be comfortable with, and rely on is yourself. With that, you will be able to give back ten times more than you receive – and so the cycle continues. All in all, love who you have become today – you have fought to become him/her! (remember the punishing years being of being thrown around as a teenager – they can’t have been for nothing!)

Dream Big! Love Wildly! Explore Hungrily! Set Goals! Accomplish! Inspire Others! Throw Your Cares To The Wind! Work With Your New Responsibilities (they’re going to help us even further)! And Let Your Youthful Spirit Run Wild

***Remember to enjoy the present. Especially if you’re stuck being twenty-two as well***



Music Tracks 2015 | Valis Alps

My Featured Music Tracks for 2015.
No. 1/ Be inspired by this great artist + Q&A
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It’s easy to underestimate the power of good music in your life.
Needing some tracks to get you in the right music-vibe-direction as your soundtrack for 2015?

Vallis Alps are a duo that create dreamy, beautiful and mesmerising electronica between Canberra and Seattle.

genre /
Dance, Electronic

band members /

unearthed artists we like /
DEJA , St. South , Flower Drums

website /

> Acoustic + Electronica + Synthpop
> With close to 3000 plays
> Owning both #9 and #26 on the Triple J Unearthed charts
> And an average rating of 4 and 4.5

Whether you’re channelling focusing for a study session, needing a late afternoon chill set, an easy listening track for social nostalgia, a familiar travel companion, or ready to get the vibes a-flowin’ before a night out – let me tell you – you’ve just stumbled across the right artist.

<Listen Now>
Track 1 / Young +
Track 2 / Thru

Q&A with Vallis Alps vocalist Parissa…

Tell us about your music. How did you develop your sound?
We make acoustic/electronic, futuristic/nostalgic, gritty/pretty synthpop. Or something like that. We’re still developing our sound!

What’s your greatest source of inspiration for making music?
Life lessons. Memories. Other people. Each other.

What can punters expect from a Vallis Alps live show?
Lights! Shadows! Occasional witty banter!

What’s the best advice you’ve been given and who was it from?
“Focus on why you’re here in the first place” – a close friend.

What Australian track would you play to cheer up someone who was crying?
Kobe by Yeo.

What Australian track would you play to someone to make them cry?
Green Spandex by Xavier Rudd.

You’re the DJ at a party. The dance floor is pumping. What Australian track do you put on next?
Flux by Edarcy.

What was the last local gig you went to? How was it?
It was awesome. It was at the uni here, a bunch of local bands played. But there was one called Burrows, they were completely entrancing. They said they’re recording at the moment, or soon. It’s special stuff.

Tell us about the bands or people in the Canberra music community that inspire you.
Obviously, the gems of Canberra like Safia and Peking Duk that both have such a unique sound and are rocking everyone’s socks off. Together they are making magic. Also, with the fact that Canberra is small comes this amazingly supportive musical community. People are so unassuming and just want to hear great music.

What are your plans for 2015?
More music. Touring. We’d love to meet you all.

/ Make sure you catch them on their next tour!

Top 5 International Fashion Inspirations | 2015

Another day, another dose of fashion – from all around the globe – um, yes please.
Here are my top 5 heavy weights to inspire your move into twenty fifteen.
_________________________________________________________________________ / /

N e t h e r l a n d s / H o l l a n d . L o n d o n . P a r i s //

1 / /
My top pick for what 2015 represents – all the way from the Netherlands.
LOVE AESTHETICS is continually oozing out the minimalist vibes – and in 2015 continues to awe inspire me.
A 2.0 version of a dress they were collaborating on in Paris late last year.

dress: Ivania Carpio
trainers: Nike Cortez
bag: &OtherStories

2 / /
I don’t have the pleasure of wearing luxury coats and statement furs, while strutting through the streets of Paris anymore – so I daringly lust and live vicariously through COTTDS.
Although on the other side of the globe from the Netherlands– style can always be adapted for season your in.
She makes me weak at the knees with her luxe, dark styling and moody tones.
(Not to mention the jaw dropping light play, scenery and architecture backdrop for most of the images.)


3 / /
Beautiful to say the least, Mija from London has wicked taste for luxe everyday street wear.
A mix between minimalism California laid-back.
She is one of my top picks thanks to her free flowing blonde hair, effortless style, delightful taste in the big labels – and not being afraid to rock the converse, caps, beanies or backpacks.
Très chic, right?

CLOSED belted wool coat in black
ACNE STUDIOS raya cardigan
A.N.D. JEANS denim jeans
MANSUR GAVRIEL black/royal backpack
CONVERSE leather chucks

4 / /
Pardonmyobsession is a sartorial diary, based in Paris. My daily dose of inspiration, when I was living there.
(If your home has a real ‘winter’ you’ll know the every day difficulties of layering a dressing!)
In my eyes, is the queen of texture. Furs, leather, you name it. Other than the cold wintery fashion bursting out of Europe this season – there is a classic, adaptable style that I love.

Knit // Pull : Choies
Boots : Valentino
Leather pants // Pantalon en cuir : BLK DNM
Bag // Sac : Givenchy
Watch // Montre : Kulte

5 / /
Who can resist the charm from the old Holland? I certainly can’t.
Fashion Hoax plays with structure, muted tones and minimalistic cuts. MMM.
Ever fashionable, effortlessly sophisticated and – if I dare say – pulls of the new vogue tom-boy look.
Lian gives me my dose of high end fashion, ready for the corporate world.
Always ready to give the new trends a whirl, like the beloved Trouser Suit trend, or the Culottes.

MANGO coat
BERSHKA blazer
ZARA top & heels

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I hope this puts a bounce in your step – and helps you strut into 2015 in style.
Enjoy the season, wherever you are in the world.Britta
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instagram/pinterest | être_britta

Did We Just Relocate, Again?


So I have recently logged back onto my blog.
Wow. I completely forgot about it. I have been so busy.
It’s been over a year! So much has happened – to say the least.

My world has been tipped on its head by the Parisians, my ‘home’ on my return, and then again by our ‘brilliant’ idea of relocating states. Phftt easy right? Oh, so so wrong.
Adventure, yes. Would I do it again? Okay, maybe yes. But I had no idea of the direction my life would take – it baffles me.

For those of you who have been reading the lines of my older posts (nearly 2 years ago now), you can probably deduce that I have adventured to the pocket of France and back. Living there for over 6 months in Paris was indescribable.

We then returned to southern hemisphere, and to the homeland I know as Australia. The weekend of our arrival after a 2 day flight journey, jet lagged, we had the (not so) brilliant idea of relocated again.. to Brisbane. Hmm.

From my jaded recollection, our justification was that we couldn’t bare the thought of living in the same old routine, in the same old city, seeing the same old people. But my word it’s been an experience, to say the least.
4 x 16 hour drives moving all of our possessions to the sunshine state, jet lagged. Note to everyone… please don’t ever attempt this.

I am regretful about my lack of blogging during our travelling, backpacking, and what became my new world living in Paris! That was the whole point of starting the blog!
To share my crazy yet fantastic Parisian experience – and to hopefully give some advice to others who are just as insane as I.
We returned from Paris 1 year ago now. And, of course have plans to return in the distant future – after we get married (careers permitting).

I can honestly say I have rattled myself a bit with all of my jittering about.
Starting the journey at 20. Living in Paris. Studying full time uni. Working in Paris. Returning. Leaving home again. And then challenging ourselves (for some unknown reason) by uprooting our lives to another state.
In the words of the bellowed Chris Martin, ‘Nobody said it was easy‘.

Now 21 (22 in a few days … but more on that later), I honestly had pockets along the way of such angst and sorrow moving away from what I know as ‘home’ – my family, friends, city and lifestyle. But, who can say they have thrown themselves in the deep end twice? While still studying, working full time and attempting to start over (twice). It’s damn hard!

I don’t regret a single second of the choices I’ve made – I am more than sure life would have been easier had I never taken the chance, and gone on a whirlwind of an adventure! But we only live once right?
Friends in Sydney will always be there, I now just have to keep up with those special few friends I now have in Europe and in my new state.

And, I have been wanting to live in Paris for many many years. And when uni doesn’t offer exchange for your course. Screw them. Do it yourself! Change courses. Study Online. Make it work. No one else will do it for you.
Out of money? Work two jobs! Work damn hard.
I have learnt so much. Lessons I would never have learnt never going to Europe. Living out of home (well throwing myself out). It is all about your own head game. Plan, dream, make your own way!

There were so many challenging times over the past few years – and to avoid sounding too cliché – hindsight is a wonderful thing. It’s amazing what strength and useful knowledge you can take away from them all. Mind you, the main point I am making, is that it all moulds you into who you are today.

Go. Get out there. Make a splash! And make it a big one!

/ / Britta

35 Days

/ / A draft I found before I left for Paris / / whoops [posted now]
/ / It turns out E asked me to marry him that weekend too!
/ / I’m Officially Engaged! … in Sydney Harbour, before we left for Paris.

Oui, c’est vrai!

It is currently 2:55AM. Please do not let thoughts of “You’re an idiot, get into bed” creep up on you. Because, frankly, I am already so sad that my eyes aren’t closed for the night.

Technically it is Sunday, six more days until Eric whisks me away on his ‘top-secret-weekend-for-just-us-two’. I’m nervous and excited all in one. All i know is that we are starting off in the morning with a little Trapeze-ing?! Yes. Ropes. Tights. Fear of Heights. Nets. And what’s better I get a whole hour and a half of it.
No. All fear provoking images aside. I am keen as a kidney bean. Why not!?

He took me for a Ghost Tour at Manly Head, for my birthday this year. Needless to say, I was scared shitless. But experiences are better than useless, unthoughtful gift. He knows me well.


I met my dearest mother-goose for a coffee and a rampage through my old room on Thursday.
I now witnessed (MY!!) money being thrown into over sized suitcases and/or garbage bags.
Do you realise how much $mullah$ is in your wardrobe you;
a. Don’t ever wear
b. Hold onto for that ‘one’ occasion that never occurs
c. Looked good on you last year
d. You’re best friend has a matching top
e. You’re in denial that you’ve changed sizes
f. Outfits you had for your old job
And in my case G and H options as:
g. Still has tags on them $89+
h. You have saved it as a ‘painting shirt’ etc for when the urge fills you to get messy and paint.


Speaking of paint! I will be at The Kirribilli Markets the weekend before I go.
Attempting to palm off any clothing I am no longer hoarding. Mostly the clothes with the tags still attached. I know. I am bad. But we all do it. Some just more than others. Eep!
I have also completed about 5 artworks as well. I am looking to sell. All on fairly large sized canvases. I am looking forward to the offers I get. If any.
I am having a ‘Best Offer’ Price kind-of stall.
It will be a nice Day with my mum and Sue. Sipping coffee. And, in the sun- hopefully.



I recently made my mother a amethyst jewellery necklace pendant. For Mothers Day 2013.
It is almost like a hollow sphere made with a silver string swirled and tangled around the surface. In the centre is an raw Amethyst. Not only does purple look amazing against the silver, but it just the right size for the piece. It is quick heavy and sits on the lower tip of the breast plate.
Lost wax carvings and metal work – my cup of happiness.

Something for her to wear to remind her of me.
I can’t take all my jewellery making equipment to Paris! I am certainly going to miss it all. And, my sewing machine. Ahh, just one of few luxuries I will miss from my creative palate.
I will have to stick to the water colours, inky pens, and acrylic paints! ah ha!


For E’s Thirtieth. I am clueless. Still. For a present! Eep.
I want to give him something he will enjoy. Cooking class overseas? New coat for winter? A dinner and a boat ride down the Seine?
Too Too TOO much choice.
One thing I MUST do for our anniversary in October is a beautiful French dinner for him.
Speaking of OCTOBER / HOW amazingly close is Octoberfest going to be from Paris. Hmm.
No doubt that is a must. Along with a purchase of traditional German outfits. (Although they will get absolutely ruined)


The Food channel is opening up my eyes to the salivation that truly awaits me.
Even seeing the cafes in Amsterdam that have a weed menu with the different types of effects you would like. I.e ‘Smokey mellow’ I hope Eric lets me sit and draw in the city for a moment when I feel the need to whip out my sketch book.
It worked when I travelled with my mum, as she is a notorious walker. And. Well. I am not.


I am ready to EXERCISE now that I am over my cold. I have been bed ridden for 4 days. Woe is me.
The aim is to be able to enjoy the first 3 weeks of backpacking. Rather than falling into an exhausted heap at the end of the day.

Speaking on exhausted heap.. now. my turn.


Peace and Progress

I am also having nightmares of not learning French! I must say, watching a French Movie with the French Subtitles as well is ahhh-mayyy-zing! Ring-a-ding-ding in just 10 days I swear I have picked up a tonne more.

Ten Simple Steps to Failing a Blog Post

Okay. Listen up.
I am only saying this once. I am an idiot. Yep/

Officially summed up everything I need to within this empty box. Pre-posted for the world.
THEN. My Mac, and fingers decide it is a good idea to work against me.


Step One: Become so sick you sleep in until 12pm. (Check)
Step Two: Have an all-mighty immune system that finally kicks in from O.D’ing on mandarins and oranges. From the Backyard. (Check)
Step Three: Have a cone (Check)
Step Four: Spend the night productively and unable to turn off to sleep (Check) It’s now 3:36AM. *Shake My Fist at Clock*
Step Five: Write what seems to be a blog post, that is as long as your HSC English Essay (Check)
Step Six: Right Click your track pad over a word. And select ‘Look up with Google’ (Check)
Step Seven: Animatedly blink thrice, while staring blankly at the screen…which is also ahhh blank.(Check)
Step Eight: Unable to comprehend what you have just done, and try and salvage it. (Check and Fail)
Step Nine: Accept you have been defeated by both technology and yourself at an un Godly hour. (Check)
Step Ten: Write ten steps to remind yourself and the billions of other blog writers to listen to your instincts. And.. Never. Ever. Write directly in Safari or WordPress. They are unforgiving and ruthless. (Check)

(Step 11: Post new Post and retire to bed next to your man who has already had 4 and a half more hours sleep than you 😦  boo)

Letters of Farewell.

46 Days to go!!

I should be labelled ‘Highly Combustible‘.

I constantly forget to write and update, but I have the day off work at last minute so I will fill the Land of Internet in. Just incase.

I am currently writing letters to my nearest and dearest, with the intent to give them at the farewell dinner on the night.
Sweet? Bonne Idée?

I am beginning to miss everything already. IT makes me a tad sad!

Watching the Simpsons in French at the moment. Why on earth didn’t I think of this before.
No, I don’t sit down and watch marathons. But great to have on in the background on a rainy day like today. I am attempting to seek out the earliest episodes that I know back to front.

Back on the subject of letters, I had another idea. I am also writing my boyfriend/us a letter. But.. It will be delivered to our address in France. With the intention of surprising him, more than myself. It will be a great thing to read. I’ll be sure to include missable memories.

My terrible French is gripping my nerves. I am in deep denial however.
No matter how much I think I understand. Listening to the fast pace reality of spoken French, creates a very uneasy feeling.

Not long till the Visa Appointments! I am also organising E’s 30th. Money is the next ‘To Do’. Along with packing away a few knick knacks today. Even though we’re into the 40’s, I feel that the less comfort on the walls, the better- it will put us in a ‘moving’ frame of mind. Therefore making ourselves GET. OFF. Our asses and be quick about things!
It will creep up on us.

like a tiger! RAWR

Me, Myself, and I

Yippieeee! There is only 51 days until take off.

I just jumped up from sitting cross legged on the floor- like a hippie, painting.
One thing that uprooting and leaving has made me sink into.. it’s myself.

I have been creative nearly everyday for the past two weeks, and the amount of satisfaction or ‘re kindling’ and strengthening passions and hobbies you have is so great.
I now am far outweighing E in artworks that are slowly filling the room.

It is also NOW decided, that everything you effectively ’embellish’ to your four walls, is history and a part of the house. “E.g. Teddy Bears shoved into a please-fix-me-or-cover-me-up-with-something-hole in the wall. With a speech bubble animating  “BOO! mm Hewp Me, pweeeese” – Yes. Literally. I wish I was joking.
Yes A night of questionable substances and mischief (Yes I enjoy some while in my creative moods and methods). But it adds your own mark, no? We seemed to be entertained by it.

One thing I have been meaning to blabber about, is living with the ‘future’ or ‘soon-to-be’ in-laws.
At first moving in seemed like the logical thing. Saving money for Europe, and all the while soaking up as much family-time as possible.

There will come a time when you will need to confront on another, but so far, so good. It’s always a little awkward when you are trying to organise your boyfriends 30th birthday, and the mother feels she knows his friends better than you. Well, all I have to say is: My Turn Now!
And ensure you stand together united in the decisions you make (your partner and you, that is). Any cracks, and I swear the natural behaviour of a Mothers is to be nosey and divide.

I love my bf’s parents, they have been so kind to me. I have it easy here, and with my temporary work only 20 mins, as opposed to 1hr 20 too.

Speaking of my day job! I am rolling in mullah.. not. Little old ladies at cafe’s are sweet, and when they see me coming with a smile and a cheeky remark of ‘Good morning Spring Chickens, how are we today?’ I know, that I might be expecting a tip.
But the hilarity of the waitress concept, combined with little-old-ladies, is my tips never exceed $2.00. Yep, a thick shiny two dollar coin.
I am truly living the high life. No. But all joking aside. It is these customers that seem to make me; stop. Think. And wake up. Remember to smile… PLUS you’re leaving soon!
Other than that, I am officially being paid cash in hand, under minimum wage- how exciting. Not. Hey, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do!

I just had my hair cut, sizzled, washed, treated, re-washed, undercut, and had a splash of copper put into the front quarter of my head. Why? All for Sydney Hair Expo, for Schwarzkopf.
Crazy as I may have looked, I just can’t stand to see myself with another hair colour than all blonde.

Since the shot on the blogs background was taken I have been growing it out, into a cute French bob. Now I will be sleeking it back into a statuesque-do. 😦 Oh well. What I have learnt. Always utilise your natural assets. My eyelashes are white, alng with my eye brows, now imagine how stupid I look with darker hair. Even with make up. It just DOESNT sit right with me.


E has been talking about starting a Cafe over seas. A new career for him, and I am more than happy to help. He is an AMAZING cook.
And what skills have I been honing? Well, I have been painting, jewellery design and writing children’s books still.

BLAH, Thursday night. Time for me to cook a gormet meal. (By that I mean, this house hold is tres fancy- anything normal won’t cut it. But with my creative side glistening at the moment, my made-up cooking is always best 🙂

PS/ only now has someone got back to me with a lower price on an apartment. I love our one for Paris. But make sure you give people plenty of time to reply. Over night might be expected of you, but for others, it maybe about a month or so. (hey they’re Parisians right? They’re stern ha)

..Tick Tick Tick

Time can’t almost go fast enough. Then again.
There are days where E and I clench to a wish that 81 days and 2 hours would come quicker.

Madness is settling in, I can’t escape it.

French music playing on iTunes, iPods and French News and films blaring from the TV.
I can be listening to English speaking music one moment. Then a lady can burst through my speakers announcing: “Écoutez et répétez! … l’orange!”
A then, 2 millisecond break. Then. A booming ‘All-American’ male voice, also, attempts to seductively pronounce ‘The Orange’, “LA OWR-ANGE-EH”
Remind me to delete the list! I need a real French man!

My brand new Kobo, is stuffed with books of French history. Yes.
I know little about the wonderful place. Bar the war.

Speaking of brand new eReaders. I was resisting the curb of the new invention.
My mentality was that books are precious.   Better yet- who can replace flipping the pages and getting excited, by sneak peeking a few chapters ahead?
What battery operated gizmo could ever recreate the bookmark we use, to observe the distance you’ve managed to muscle your way through?
Plus. My face has also found a few more smiles since deciding to drift away from Yee-Old Facebook. Not good for the self worth or esteem!
If someone needs me they can email. Call. Or text. It removes the excitement when I see people. As I can so readily observe their every move on FB.
Is it not one giant Rat Race? So put it on hold! Es-cap-aye. I say. (I only plan to rejoin the clan aka FB. When travelling. To keep in contact.)

ANYWAY. Cleverly, E philosophised that the ‘40%’.. etc indicator on the black and white ink screen.
Will become more relevant and accurate to our tech-heads. Than a guesstimated view of the bookmarks whereabouts!
Therefore, I suppose I shouldn’t fight technology. Inevitably I gave in, as you’ve guessed.
I still have kept my ‘special’ books. They somehow seem MORE precious. Nonetheless Mr. Kobo seems to be my Bee’s Knees.

A collection of books is now officially stored in my ‘modern day’ Marry Poppins bag/bookshelf 🙂. A stack of books higher than my 5 foot 9 self. Fit snug in my Kobo Mini. Which in turn. Fits snug in it’s little leather pouch (matching my little (huge) leather bag).
Thought no# 2, matching accessories, not a bad little gizmo after all.

Continuing on…
There is a wall above our desk that’s a makeshift ‘french’ brain. By this I mean, Word Documents which I vigorously typed, furiously highlighted and colour coded.
I will add a PDF which I found helpful also. An English > French/ French> English verb translator in alphabetical order.
3 words. A God Send. Makes life incredibly fluid when constructing emails to possible apartment owners/renter.
..Who would otherwise struggle to unscramble my Fren-glish.

Practising French food with my food-obssessed boyfriend. (E would hate that I said that, but he is such a food-snob) BUT! who can complain about that? Butter, cream, mushroom and tender meats. All being cooked by a beautiful man… my beautiful man?
Oh! How can I forget the drunken state my days and nights have become. Working our way through the wine ‘stash’, so it won’t go to waste.
Don’t fret, I promise it is only during dinners that are 1+      obviously…phfft.

As for apartment searching, that came to an end as of today!
Which gave me the motivation to pump out a post.

I stayed in Paris over Christmas of 2011, in a quaint little apartment on the right bank, in the 1st/2nd.
For those of you unfamiliar with Paris, that means ‘smack-bang in the centre of Paris just about the Seine.’
Secure, cobbled courtyard, old stair well, big wooden entry doors to the complex. I can’t wait to show you photos.

Heard of Rue Montrogueil? I stayed (and will be staying..again) on a little street of this quaint, cute cobblestone Rue.
It bestows even more beautiful boucherie, pâtisserie and boulangerie. Oh! I cannot forget the cheese!
And. If I remember correctly. There is a Starbucks rustling and grinding in the nothern end’s corner near the big iron arch- WHY.
Honestly. Who thought that was a good idea. Investment wise. Yes. Tourists who can’t speak French. Yes. But still.
A Crime. A Murder of French Culture!

Just beyond the southern end, lying underground is hiding an enormous, modern shopping centre. I am hoping to avoid it. With all my energy…. or I will be broke the moment I step in. EEEP!


Anyhow. Paper work is still a hassle. Who want’s to spend late nights catching up on paper cuts and ink stains? I’d rather be trying to decipher a French movie. That I have seen a hundred times over. Hmm Emile, a brilliant one at that. 11/10.

I have a backup job! At a Canadian Bar, if my French can be kicked up a notch! E, chugging along, has yet to find one.
I am freelance designing at the moment. And I am more that happy to continue to do so in my spare time in Paris.
Not that I will want to be trapped in an apartment.
I will cuddle up in a cafe. Not a Starbucks. I promise. Scouts Honour.

I also high fashion model here in Austrah-liah. However. When I think about it. There will be ample of tall, thin, Anglo-Saxon females vying for jobs in Paris? I don’t feel there is any luck attending castings if I look the same as the next! I’ve told my agent I am moving, so they’ll work on connections for me. I’ll sit back, wait, and relax.

And finally. After clearing up, and culling down my already bulging wardrobe.
I now have been slyly/sneaking (stuffing) a few additions to my clothing assemblage.
E hasn’t noticed yet. Phfew!  More French Chic, of course. The best style there is. I really shouldn’t be buying.
The clothing will be to die for in “ahh la Pariee”.
Better yet, I still need travelling clothing, and a plane outfit. No? 🙂
P.s the 4 week rampage around Europe is all done and dusted- booking wise. I am now more excited than ever. The nicest place is in Amsterdam. Why? Well lets just say I don’t want to be flapping about the streets lost, or falling into a cement, rock-hard bed at night. When there is so much richness and exotic treats to be nibbled and tasted. All night long. hey?
Plus. The recovery will be better when the buffet breakfast is more so delish!

I am still trying to figure out what to do with my Pooch! Ernie. He is so cute. My Brother. His rightful owner. Wants to take him up to his station. (Yes, he is a cliche Jackaroo. Working on a Station in NT or WA with nothing in site but a few cows and a few other farmers. Oh! And their dogs. For thousands of KM! Crazy life. I couldn’t do it. Clearly! I am moving to Paris!)
Ernie is 2. He is a white boxer. The cutest you’ve ever seen. I would have him sent to us, but that would be cruel. No? In Paris as a half sized boxer.
He isn’t going to grow to full size anyway. Thank goodness.
I am going to miss him the most. 😥

Any tips up for you until this point? Hmm..
Don’t not call your grandparents. Because if you forget just once, they’ll refuse you a contact of theirs- who has an apartment for rent in Paris.
Then again. That could just be my Soap Opera Family/Life.

No. You definitely should triple. Quadruple check the location of the apartment/hotel/hostel your staying in.
Eg. Silly me. Trying to be clever saving time. Sitting up late owl-eyed and hunched over an XL mug of hot Milo. Booking hotels made a teeny-tiny mistake.
Turns out, in Berlin, we are staying a 10min  train ride out of the city.
But HEY! I convinced E it would be better than the city. (Not really). But who knows! It was so cute and cottage like. I couldn’t refuse.
Plus some best times on trips are those that were mistakes or mishaps.

..10 mins isn’t bad anyway?
German trains after all.
Until Next Time!