Welcome to Paris.

I wonder — is it on everyone’s bucket list?

We arrived in the brief pause between the Olympics and the Paralympics, yet the city pulsed with life. Streets buzzed with activity, preparations still in full swing, and people from every corner of the world weaving through the magic of Paris.

Our base was near the Champs-Élysées, within walking distance of the Eiffel Tower, standing tall like a beacon over the city.

Two and a half days — far too short to embrace all of Paris. Partly because the city is overflowing with wonders, partly because the Olympics had cordoned off parts of the map. Yet we wandered, letting the city guide us.

My husband avoids museums, yet even he could not resist the call of Parisian history (although he did start to sigh at the suggestion of the Louvre). We couldn’t see them all, of course, but we explored Les Invalides and the tomb of Napoleon, the Musée de l'Armée, and the Louvre. And yes, after a while, one sword or gun began to blur into the next.

Still, Paris was alive with stories, grandeur, and hidden corners — enough to make even the briefest visit feel unforgettable.

While at the Louvre, we did see the Mona Lisa.

It feels like a must while in Paris, yet the moment was strangely underwhelming. You cannot get close enough to study the brush work or the application of paint; instead, she is framed behind glass, glimpsed through throngs of people. In the crowd, she almost disappears, a quiet mystery swallowed by the bustle around her.

One thing I adore about Paris is how the cafés are draped in flowers, their awnings blooming with colour and charm. It lends the city a quiet romance, a magic that seems rare in other corners of the world.

Of course, in Paris, one cannot skip the classics: visiting the Arc de Triomphe, gazing up at the Eiffel Tower, drifting along the Seine on a gentle cruise. And, of course, a night at the Moulin Rouge — a dazzling spectacle that feels quintessentially Parisian.
(note: no photography allowed at the Moulin Rouge)

One thing we missed was Notre Dame, still shrouded in scaffolding and construction… and, of course, experiencing Paris by night — that will have to wait for next time.

Merci, Paris. Until we meet again. ✨

The beauty of the French Riviera is something to behold.

Arriving in August, with summer at its peak, felt almost overwhelming — the air heavy with heat and humidity, the days stretching languidly before us. Learning to surrender to slower rhythms, to lazy afternoons and dinners that drifted late into warm evenings, took time.

A week spent in beautiful Antibes — or more precisely, Juan-les-Pins, nestled within its embrace — unfolded beside a glorious coastline. The Mediterranean shimmered endlessly in shades of blue, while old stone streets met modern life, a meeting of past and present that filled me with quiet excitement.

The area has much to offer - new and old.

In the Old Town of Antibes, we wandered winding laneways awash with colour and life. It’s amazing how potted plants and cascading vines can turn quiet corners into small pockets of beauty.

Our week was wonderfully full.

We spent a day at the beach, renting chairs and lingering over lunch on the sun-warmed shores of the Mediterranean. The only blemish was the chorus of nearby complaints — tourists lamenting the lack of Wi-Fi or a coffee made incorrectly. I think people seemed to forget they were in the South of France, of all places, it felt like a reminder to pause, to look up, and to truly be present.

I swam in the Mediterranean, its waters crystal clear and gently warm, an experience that felt both grounding and quietly unforgettable.

We wandered through local markets and shops, soaking in the ambience and settling into the gentle rhythm of our surroundings.

My husband tried frog’s legs for the first time — a true achievement — and along the way we discovered a wonderful restaurant, Le Perroquet, where the food was exquisite and the service just as memorable.

Antibes became our home base as we ventured out to Èze and Cannes.

Èze, a medieval hilltop village perched between Nice and Monaco, felt timeless. Its old town — a maze of stone buildings and winding cobblestone alleys — climbs steadily upward, leading at last to the Jardin Exotique, where sweeping views of the French coastline and rolling hills unfold below.

Cannes felt distinctly more cosmopolitan, polished, and expensive — and with that glamour came a noticeable price tag.

A simple lunch at a local café was astonishingly costly; a salad and a non-alcoholic drink for the two of us totaled over AUD $100. It was a sharp contrast to the slower, simpler pleasures we’d grown used to elsewhere.

Another thing that stood out was the prevalence of smoking at restaurants, even though it might be outdoors, the smell of smoke would still waft back through the indoors — a habit woven into everyday life in France, yet one I realized I could never quite grow accustomed to again.

Beyond the sights themselves, we delighted in remarkable food and unexpected moments — even feeding squirrels along the way. Sometimes, it’s the simplest pleasures that linger the longest.

Next stop: Paris. ✨