Last night we finally got around to watching the season finale of Sex and the City. At the beginning of the Paris episodes, watching her car drive her up to her hotel, the gleaming building all around just exuding Parisianity, I actually got somewhat choked up. This year was the second time I am not in Paris for Christmas, and I miss it.
I relished in seeing Carrie's first-hand experiences in the city, from yummy pastry shops to cozy cafés, tree-lined streets to Mercedes taxis. But then, as Carrie comes to hate the city because she's all alone there, it came back, all the things that have enabled me to actually leave the city; the bitchy people, the incessant winter rain, the ubiquitous dogs and their shits, the attitude.
I now feel the same way about Paris as I do about New York: love it to death, but could not live there.
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