In the words of Julie Andrews, these are a few of my favourite things...
Picking our jaws up off the floor of Crazy Horse, both of us falling in major lust with Dita and marvelling at the disappearing G-string trick executed by a flawless hottie gyrating on a spinning disc surrounded by lasers. Had to be seen to be believed. Despite the amazing show put on by Miss Von Teese and the Crazy Horse girls, the biggest cheer of the night went to two lads who happened to be a hilarious pair of tap dancing identical twins.
Following a treasure map of Père-Lachaise on a drizzly Saturday morning and only finding Jim when we noticed a crowd of fifteen or so Americans all gathered taking photos in the one spot. Said hi to Oscar, Edith, Sarah Bernhardt, Victor Noir and the doomed lovers along our pirate trail, and loved the fact that the Bear enjoyed traipsing around this graveyard as much as I did.
Forgoing the fact that we were in a food capital, and drunkenly scoffing KFC in our tiny but gorgeous hotel room after spending the evening getting shitfaced watching the rugby match in a Scottish pub that charged €7 for a pint bottle of cider. Robbers.
Racing around Disneyland like children full of Haribo, stuffing ourselves with foot-long hotdogs and legging it straight afterwards to a ride that entailed a 200ft freefall drop. Giggling insanely at the photo taken of us on Big Thunder Mountain, as it appeared that a motionless serial killer was sitting in front of us the entire way. We named him Jason.
Packing all the cheesy photo opportunities we could manage into the last day and ducking out of the rain by drinking gin and tonic out of an Orangina bottle in a cinema on the Champs-Elyseés.
Magic. Cúpla photos tomorrow, I promise.