It's always nice to return to a city and already have your legs, so to speak. It was like that in Barcelona, and Paris was no different (what happened last time). This time around I only had a couple of days to spare, before zipping back to London, but these were taken at a fairly leisurely pace. After a nightmare of a hike around Montmartre when we arrived (looking for accomodation with heavy packs on and it being muggier than a monsoon's armpit), most of my evening was spent filling in wide-eyed newbies about the relative joy that was the Busabout experience. Afterwards, we took off to perhaps the most bizarre cafe in Paris - interpretative jazz, no aircon and a crazy old bum who knew how to abuse us in our native tongue. Enchanté. The Saturday was spent farewelling Jacqui (as she departed for northern locales), then investigating the Centre Pompidou (which I'd missed last time) and their amazing La Révolution Surréaliste exhibition ... colour me a major Magritte fan now. Sunday was spent traipsing around L'Ile de la Cité and the big gay Marais, getting rather inebriated with the ever effervescent Fi and chum. A quick lunch in Les Tuileries the next day proved a lovely, languid way to farewell the continent ... last stop in Europe, London.
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