On pense que

je suis française.

Today I was approached a number of times by Francophone people asking for directions or a lighter (un feu) and I responded with the ease and finesse of a suave French woman.

I feel like a French-Dutch-British chameleon. Or a fugitive.

Frinstance, now Cédric and I are sipping Merlot and watching the Monaco Grand Prix, and the living is easy. Vintage shopping at Place de Clichy this week, meaning 5 euro dresses and bags and hopefully I won't go shoe-cray.

Today I went to Montmartre (où se trouve le Moulin Rouge) and took the funiculaire up to Sacre-Coeur where I think the best views of Paris are, and where, 5 years ago, I had French Onion soup for the first time. I love all the cobbled alleyways and the pushy as fuck African men forcing shitey bracelets onto everyone who enters the gate to Sacre-Coeur. I gave them a very sassy

<<Laissez-moi!>>

I'm good at Europe.