Spotted in London: My Favourite Things

The British explorer and travel writer, Freya Stark, once wrote: "To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world."

How exciting!
I won't question how I got here or who gave me this turban.

While I can think of many situations where this would not ring true (Taken, anyone?), I'll agree that travelling is infinitely enthralling and addictive, akin to the world's greatest roller-coaster, the bonus being there's no fat guy screaming in the seat behind you. Usually.


The whole experience is such a whirlwind that it can be quite a challenge returning home, where people speak your language, accept your money and find your tendency to use hand gestures when speaking just plain odd, rather than endearing.

Okay, you're happy, I get it.

While the sudden change of pace can leave you feeling a bit bewildered, it's also a great opportunity to reflect on all the reasons you call home, "home", for example:

1. The Tube - More existent than in Ghana. More efficient than New York. Less entertaining than the Paris metro, but it has a cooler name.
2. The Clothes - No one does boho chic better than Londoners. It's a fact.
3. Boris bikes - And seeing the most unlikely riders on them.
4. Pubs - Not a bar. Not a club. Not a fancy soiree. Just good old-fashioned after-work drinks with friends. Yes, please.
5. The Weather - Call me crazy, but I like the rain. And the fact that hardly anyone bothers with umbrellas here.

That said, my suitcase sits less than a foot from my bed, open and ready for action. London, I hate to love and leave you, but I'm a travel junkie, and always will be.

Tools of the trade.

Spotted in Versailles: Vive La Revolution!

Fifty minutes from Paris, in the city of Versailles, is one of France's most famous paintings, Le Serment du Jeu de Paume or the Tennis Court Oath by Jacques-Louis David. If you're a history buff, you'll know this is the site where the National Assembly first convened and vowed to draft a state constitution. If not, you're probably wondering: a tennis court? Really?

"Guys, I'm looking for a doubles partner. 
Anybody free post-revolution?"

I can't help but think that if six hundred of my closest friends and I ever had to bring down an absolute monarchy, it would probably look more like this:

The Starbucks Pact:
Changing the world - once we finish our Frappuccinos.

Not quite as stirring, I'll admit. But it did get me thinking, where would be the weirdest place to start a revolution?

The Urinal Understanding:
"Guys, I have an awesome idea."
"Can it wait?"

The Ultimate Pillow Fight:
Winner gets the country. Bed bugs included.

But the winner has to be:

Vive la revolution!

Spotted in La Rochelle: Oysters

Located a mere two hour train-ride west of Paris is the delectable seaside city of La Rochelle. I say delectable because not only is the city stunning, with its picturesque port, attractive architecture and huge yacht marina - it's also a terrific place for food. In particular, les fruits de mer. Or in English, seafood.

The Vieux Port

From enjoying moules-frites in the old town centre, or chowing down on langoustines and sea snails in one of the city's many nautical-themed restaurants, La Rochelle is definitely an epicure's haven. What the area is most famous for, however, are its oysters, and for good reason. They are amazing, fresh and decidedly moreish.

Delicious.

So much so, that after consuming close to my body weight in oysters and champagne over the course of one day, I did wonder briefly: Can you have too much of a good thing?


Nah.


Loving La Rochelle! 

Spotted in Fontainebleu: The Disney Experience

Every so often you come across a view that is literally breathtaking. When I first arrived in Paris, city of lights, bespoke fashion and gorgeous architecture, this happened about once every ten seconds, prompting conversations like:


What happened to you?
Oh nothing. Just saw another fancy-ass building.


I have to admit, having become accustomed to the general, all-round beauty of Paris, I've become a little desensitized.

But not enough to ignore the spectacular sight that is the Château de Fontainebleau.

Wow.

Fifty miles from the centre of Paris, Fontainebleu is a dream come true for any aspiring Disney princess.  The château boasts about 130 hectares of sweeping lawns, gardens and tree-lined avenues, as well as a gorgeous lake, home (of course) to several swans.

I could live here.

And its interior is just as sublime. Whether or not you're a history buff, the story of Fontainebleu stars some fascinating characters like Henry IV (my favourite French monarch), Leonardo da Vinci and Napoleon Bonaparte.

The library at Fontainebleau.

As Napoleon was the last monarch to inhabit the château, it seems the fairytale castle is up for grabs.


So, girls, get your frogs, forks and fairy-godmothers ready...

Do you have what it takes to be a princess?

Spotted in Paris: The Late Night Menu

You know how it is with babies and their evening shenanigans. There's music. There's dancing. A few drinks. Or more.

You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor
 without holding on.

But this famously fun concoction has a potent side effect: the munchies.

Kid knows what I'm talking about.

And at 3am, who cares what you're consuming? As long as it's cheap, fried and/or covered in chocolate.

Aw, yeah...

Let's face it, the typical late night menu is about as classy as a TOWIE wedding. Unless you're in Paris. In which case, it's gourmet dining all the way. Don't believe me? Have a look:

THE LATE NIGHT MENU

STARTER:

Croque-Monsieur:
As delicious as it looks.

MAIN COURSE:

Moules-frites:
Mussels at midnight. Mmm.

DESSERT:

 

 

Crepes:
Need I say more?

So whatever these hell-raisers get up to, at least in Paris, it'll taste good.

Okay, Billy, you're our designated driver.
You've watched more Noddy than the rest of us.

Spotted in London: The Holiday Diet

There's nothing like coming home for Christmas. The family. The presents. The good food... Oh no, wait. Scratch that last one. Because I am being forced to go on a diet. Why?


Well, while in Ghana, I managed to contract malaria. And typhoid. (I know, I skipped that, but who likes hearing vomit stories?) It was pretty bad while it lasted, but upon returning to London, fully recovered (and ten pounds lighter), I was looking forward to stuffing my face in a way that is only acceptable during the holidays.


I didn't realise I'd be held hostage by my stomach. Like a reverse grinch, it has apparently shrunk three sizes. Or more.

Insert evil laugh here.

So at the moment, an average meal for me tends to look like this:

I'm so full.

The most annoying part is that I still feel hungry. I just can't eat more than baby mouse. Apparently this is normal, and my appetite should be back soon. But in the meantime, I can revel in the fact that it only takes me eight hours to eat a Crunch bar. Silver linings!

Spotted in Tamale: Stalker Kitties

In case you didn't know, Ghana is hot.

As hot as it is in Accra, though - and it's getting close to dry season - that's nothing compared to Northern Ghana. Specifically, the region's capital, Tamale. The weird thing about Tamale heat, is that it seemingly increases at night. Weird.

The city itself, though, is very cool. The godforsakenly long time it took for us to drive there was definitely worth the sights, such as the Tamale Central Mosque:

The biggest mosque I've ever seen.

Seriously, this place is huge. And pretty.

 We also visited the Pikaro Slave Camp, which was a strangely harrowing experience. There aren't many places that are so simultaneously desolate and beautiful.

An interesting welcome.

View from high up on the rocks. Feels like the savannah.

Place where captured slaves used to eat.

Not as social as it sounds. 

But the scenery is awesome.

En route to Pikaro, we had a little extra time, and so decided to check out the Ghana-Burkina Faso border. The nice border patrol guys even let us take a picture on the Burkina side. So, I guess I can check that off the list.

Welcome to Burkina Faso!

And I can't forget to give a shout out to the little stalker cat that may or may not have had rabies, but kept a close eye on us in our lovely Tamale accommodations. 


Good bye, stalker kitty. You were cute. And scary.

Oh, hey. What?
 I'm just hanging.