Wails and Other Surprises

I spent a few days last week in Wales. Cardiff, to be precise. It was horrible. I think this is not entirely Cardiff's fault - it was more a case of whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. A horrible hostel, some horrible people, some creepy people and some downright unsanitary people unfortunately weighed more heavily in the balance than did the nice people I met and the cool Victorian-era faux-medieval castles I saw. I won't condemn the whole of Wales, but what I have seen of it left a nasty taste in my mouth - sorry Wales.

Since my almost indecently joyful return to London I have kind of hung around for a few days, but on Saturday I went to Brighton! It was great! I was rather surprised at this - I had decided that all continental beach towns were tawdry, over-inflated tourist traps with no more soul than a Simpson-Grierson lawyer. It turns out that if you can forget that these places are meant to have anything to do with what we Kiwis think of as a beach, they can actually be quite cool in their own way.

I am now in Paris, for the third time, and I have a cold! I don't seem to have much luck here - I've had bad weather or a cold both times (the weather is lovely this time, touch wood)! Still, it hasn't lost its charm and I am enjoying it, and am looking forward to seeing the catacombs and the (inside of) the Louvre this time.

After Paris I catch the eurostar back to London for my final weekend in London. I'm going out with Jamie on the Saturday, and possibly having drinks with all the people I've met in London on Friday or Sunday evening. I leave on Monday, in the evening thank god, so at least I don't have to rush. A week in Brisbane, and then... home!