People always speak of ‘Paris’ with a breathless whisper – Paris.
Paris, the city of love. Of poise, of elegance, of some sort of magical romance that linger in the air.
Amidst the many touristy posts, here’s one for the ordinary.
one of my favouritest pictures 🙂
I almost got pickpocketed today. A pickpocketing story – almost a to-do on a Eurotrip, no? Mine goes like this:
I entered the train cabin with papa and sis, vaguely overwhelmed by the crowd and trying to squeeze on. The person next to me kept pushing, and it was squeezy. Sis said ‘pickpocket, pickpocket’ it took me awhile to register, about 4 seconds, which is considerably long under the circumstances, by which I looked down at my bag (by which i was carrying by the FRONT) and realised this annoying person who kept squeezing by me was covering the side of my bag. I pulled away out of instinct, still not quite registering what my sister was saying, and saw this orange plastic bag near its zip- by which a hand extended sneakily from the stupid orange plastic bag and had its fingers at the tip of my black wallet peeking out from the zip of my Kanken. Stunned, terribly shocked, I zipped up my bag and turned to my sis and dad, incredulously wondering if they saw the whole thing. Pickpocket, pickpocket! Started swearing and announcing she tried to pickpocket me, point point, the group of teenage kids – presumably the accomplice – did not dare look at us again. On hindsight I wish I took a picture of her or something, or I don’t know, do more…? The locals stared on blankly while the 3 of us remained shocked, discussing the whole scene blatantly. The kids got off at the next stop.