The countdown gets real. Nine away.

Nine more days and away I go to Paris! It’s nine days too soon. I have not bought my travel insurance nor changed currency nor planned my days there (still!!) since I last said I would nine days back. Come, let me clap for myself.

What I did do was to get packing. Since I’ll be flying in alone, I decided to place my clothes into the hand carry luggage which would go into my check-in one. This was what my first “draft” looked like.


So many clothes, so little space.

Uh oh. Something tells me I’m in deep shit. This is not even all the clothes I’m bringing. There are currently eight pairs of jeans/pants in there. He laughed at me when I told him and said he only brought six pairs for three months worth of travel. But I’m not you. I’m a vain pot, and I AM going to the fashion capital of the world….. Did I also mention I have to work all this into a 23kg baggage limit? Great.

Think I’ll need to change my strategy. I most likely will remove some pairs of pants and bring more monochrome tops (which I actually hardly own) then accessorise with scarves and outer wear instead. I previously also assured him I wouldn’t bring any skirts or dresses but oops, looks like I might break my promise (sorry!). I can always wear them on days he’s not with me, yes?

My sweet friend also gave me a crash course on basic French so that I wouldn’t look like a complete idiot. I sometimes have trouble with my mother tongue, let alone a third language. Good luck.

Nine days. Oh gosh seems like I still have lots to do. I better start preparing a to-do list or something lest I forget anything important. I must must must have the utmost perseverance and willpower to say no to any drinking this weekend until I’m done with packing and (at least some) planning. Why I placed importance on the drinking is because plans were already kinda made last weekend while I was drinking. I must be strong.

Nine days before I can forget all about work for a month! Eat all the croissants and macarons and cheese and drink copious amounts of wine till I can’t button my jeans! Still contemplating bringing running gear. I’m terrified at the thought of putting tons of weight there. Bonjour Paris!



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