Was I to find the archetypal Paris? The city of romance, with elegant bistros with waiters in starched white shirts, a place with a glamorous Bohemian underground of artists and socialites drinking red wine out of skulls and reading Sartre? Actually, my Autumnal three day foray in Paris showed a very different side: striking museum workers, beggars, endless queues of tourists, and bridges along the Seine lined police with body armour and rifles. Even if it wasn't quite the Paris I was expecting, I still had a great time, especially hanging out with two very good friends Tavish and Zoë (on their honeymoon from New Zealand no less) and being treated to some excellent hospitality. My first morning was spent huddled in a corner of a Montmartre hostel drinking weak coffees and watching the All Blacks
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