Bonjour Pari

Nice to see, smell, & taste you again.

There are just those certain places where you can go back to again and again and never grow tired of. 

In America, for me, that special place is Martha's Vineyard. As for in Europe, it's Paris—or my beloved Rome. So that's just where I jetted to last weekend.

I was in need of something, somewhere familiar. Sure, there are other places I could have used my weekend to go and see, but there's a certain something about Paris that makes my heart happy. 

For a big city like Paris or Rome, I did what I love to do best and laced up my sneaks and hit the pavement. The true taste and ambiance of a city is found on it's streets, with the locals, outside the cafes and around the neighborhood. 

My weekend was refreshing. It was a breath of fresh air that my mind needed. France of course is different than Italy.

Parisians pick up their feet more swiftly, They gracefully move down the street, in their own space.

They sing a different song when they speak, the words are produced from their lips not their tongue and throat like in Italian. A bonjour or merci sound like a light air kiss versus an Italian buongiorno that draws out the syllables—but still sounds like melted chocolate or smells of fresh baked bread. 

I enjoy the differences, the distance from Italy. It helps me creatively, I see Italy different in my mind when I return—the words, the way Italian move and dress, the way my cappuccino is made. 

Both cultures do things so beautifully, so visually appealing and with a Parisian or Italian heart attached to it.

The question still lives on, do the French or Italians do it better?