Please note the appearance of the long-unseen wine shorts in the last photo. My 'gym-fanatic' status is paying off and I can finally wear them again whilst breathing at the same time. Hurrah. Speaking of the gym, never mind walking in changing rooms to full-frontal nudity displays, on Friday I walked out of my shower to discover the woman opposite me did not believe in closing her cubicle door whilst showering. Totes awks, esp when she looked right at me like I was the one in the wrong for being there. HELLO, do you not know what doors are for?! Oh em gee. Also, decided I'd do a weights class on Monday, the added benefit of this being the noticeable male presence. Except it's not really a benefit when you look down mid-conversation with an attractive french boy and realise that the fact that you have not shaved your legs in 2 weeks is much more noticeable than you thought. Oh my life. So now I'm about to begin the waxing process. I say begin because it takes me so long to talk myself into ripping each strip off that if I did both legs and bikini in one go I would not make it to sleep tonight.
My evening's plans were originally to go for a run, but of course that plan went pear shaped. Today, after 3 previously failed attempts, I successfully purchased a new pair of trainers. Except it turns out it wasn't successfully. I tried them on in the shop, great. I bought them, brought them home, got ready to go out for a run AND IT TURNS OUT THEY ARE ACTUALLY TOO SMALL. 10 days, 7 sports shops, 8 metro journeys, 1 pair of trainers and too much effort later and I am still trainer-less. Why am I such a retard?
Anyway, we'll move on before you come up with an answer for that question (it's meant to be rhetorical). On Saturday I took a trip to Lille. The good news was I wasn't in Paris, the bad news was I was in Lille. I spent my morning mis-reading maps, getting chased by a duck (ironic given I had just the night before watched the Far East Movement 'Rattle' video and lolled at the thought of an angry duck), and finally in an art museum complete with audio guide (I hate museums, especially with audio guides), to pass some of my remaining 8 hours. The day did however improve from there, and apart from seeking refuge in Sephora to hide from a creepy stalker man, I quite enjoyed myself. The strangest part happened in Paris, on the bus on the way back from Gare du Nord. I was casually sat there looking out the window, and I don't know if the fact that it was grey and rainy confused me, but I had the sudden feeling like I was on my way home. I'm not even joking, like I actually felt at home in Paris. The expression of utter confusion which remained on my face for the next 5 minutes said it all about how unexpected that was but I came to the conclusion that my trip to relatively boring Lille was in fact, a good thing. After wine with a friend last week, I realised that it is about time I started making the most of Parisian life, and so now with my stage ending, my excuse for everything will be "I'm in Paris". Obviously if everything goes excellently this could become problematic because what would I write about then? but we'll cross that bridge when (not if - note the optimism) we come to it.
I'm going back to my beloved Granada on Thursday and I am more excited than I possibly have been in my life. Spain + spanish people + pomegranates + spinning + tinto de verano = one ecstatic Clare. Updates on my new amazing Parisian life when I return, that is if I don't decide to stay. Tehe.