It snows every winter in Paris.
Imagine my excitment when the meteo announced that it will be snowing this week.
The amount of merdes I heard for the next couple of days was unprecedented. While the Frenchies were cursing the snow, I was mad enthusiastic about it.
I bundled up and took out to the streets of Paris. Sweater, coat, gloves, uggs, fluffy socks, beret, you name it and I was wearing it. I remember wondering how could those little French women still look elegant under all those layers of clothing. But I guess that's something we'll never know, just like how they stay thin after all the baguettes and cheese they eat.
For how much I tried, I still looked hideous after 18-layers of clothing.
I think I almost slipped about seven times while running around the city, taking photos of the neige. But I am happy to inform you that, nope, I didn't slip, not even once. I guess the snow was rewarding me for being the only resident in Paris who didn't putain-de-merde him.