For years, writing has been a cathartic release for me. When I was younger, I imagined I would grow up to be a writer. This was of course before I realized that writers were, for the most part clichéd-ly poor.
No, even at that tender young age, I knew that poor wasn’t going to cut it.
So in keeping with my love for verse, I changed my dream (I’m resourceful like that) to screenplay writer. Of course at the age of 9, I called my dream job “writer of movies”.
Now this twist on my literary dream was merely because I wanted to take what I really loved, writing, and make some money out of it.
What’s this obsession with making money you ask? Well back then when I was growing up, we never had much of it. No, we were not starving out on the streets, but merely middle class citizens making by. That meant: nothing frivolous.
My mom who was a single parent, did her best to ensure that that we never lacked for anything, but I always knew, at the back of mind that one day, I would grow up, get rich, and have all the finest things in life.
And the thing I dreamed about the absolute most: TRAVEL!
There is something soul-stirring about getting on a plane and heading off for a far off land. A new place, full of new languages, new sights, new sounds, new cultures.
This dream of traveling has filled my thoughts for as long as I can remember.
I could never walk past a travel agency without stopping to pick up hundreds of brochures ranging from Asia to North America. I wanted to see it all.
While my friends went to movies and concerts, I poured through the glossy brochures making out my dream trip on paper. Everything from cost of flights, transfers, hotel and meals.
Once I had my “dream trip” all plotted out, I moved on to my next destination.
If I can be honest, while I wanted to go everywhere and see everything (naïve dreams for a teenager, I know), my absolute preference was London. The city called out to me like no other.
I watched any movie that showed me a glimpse of London life. Oh, a double decker red bus, behind Hugh Grant. Yes, that’s Westminster Abbey where Joey met Fergie in Friends.
I knew the tube map like the back of my hand, and I had never even set foot on British soil!
Funny enough, I never left my homeland of South Africa until I was 28 years old. Until that time, I watched as my friends had annual family holidays to Mauritius and Madagascar.
Then the year I turned 28 years old, something happened. Mrs Wolf, met Mr Wolf, halfway across the world, in Paris. Online relationships never quite cut it, and in the discussion of who should visit whose homeland, I knew I was going to win that race. I was going to Paris! But first, even before I set foot anywhere else, I scheduled a quick dash to my city of dreams, London.
My very first overseas trip and I packed 3 suitcases full of tulle dresses, trench coats and knee-high boots in 5 different colors. (Blame it on the fact that I had just watched reruns of Sex and the City’s last season, with Carrie in Paris)
How was I to know that French women do not actually wear buffy tulle dresses and stilettos while walking down their cobbled streets?
I skipped the fancy outfits in London, and spent the quickest 3 days of my life doing every possible touristy thing imaginable. By myself, alone in a new city for the first time, I rode the tube like local, found little restaurants, and lay my head down on a London pillow. I had made it! I had become acquainted with the city I loved. Little did I know, that I would travel there again and again, and well, again. I was in heaven!
Onwards to meet my French hero in Paris.
Nervous and anxious, I arrived in Paris Charles de Gaulle airport with my 3 suitcases, and a heart full of hope.
Anyways, what followed was a wonderful Autumn month in Paris, filled with romance and sightseeing.
The French are famous (or notorious) for their romantic skills, and my Frenchman was no exception. In that month, he convinced me to marry him, and I said yes. What followed was a simple ceremony overlooking the Indian Ocean in South Africa, and a prompt relocation to the City of Lights. My travel dreams were taking root and starting to grow…
So why a travel blog? The world does NOT need a new travel blog; in an already over-saturated blogosphere.
But if you’ve been following closely, you’ll know that:
a) I love writing
b) I love travelling, and
c) I really thought French women wore buffy tulle dresses every day. (But that one’s not really important!)
For the past 5 years I have called Paris home, and I have had the sheer JOY of having travelled to places my heart has dreamed of!
I hope to share these travels with you in this blog!