When three sisters turn sixteen, eighteen and twenty-one in the same year it seems appropriate to do something fittingly mature and sophisticated to celebrate. But who wants cocktail bars and spa breaks when you can spend a week in Disneyland Paris! For my sisters and I this seemed like the better option, so we set off on the Eurostar for a magical break of childhood reminisces.
‘Skiing’ (Sk-ee-ing) verb; 1. sliding down a mountain, strapped to two planks made of fibreglass. 2. A questionable hangover cure; popular among students.
I’ve spent at least one week, often up to a month, every year of my life in Pont l’Abbé in Brittany, France. While France has always been one of the number one destinations for British holidaymakers, in recent years the numbers have dwindled due to the increased poor exchange rate of the Euro and of course the recession. But who wouldn’t want to spend their days looking perpetually windswept and rosy-cheeked after cycling around the luscious countryside and pristine coastline followed by evenings tucking into fresh shellfish and enough butter to send your cholesterol through the roof? It may be the Breton blood flowing through me making me a little biased, but there’s definitely something about the Finistère seaside and Atlantic sea breeze that slows down time and makes everyone a little more carefree. (That, or the fact that the majority of the population are either retirees or holiday-makers…)
Whilst studying abroad in Paris for a year is every Francophile’s dream, sometimes seeing my ridiculously model-like fellow students strutting carefree to seminars, down Boulevard Saint Germain, forces me to console myself with yet another almond croissant. With long, dark nights setting in and essay deadlines drawing closer, I jumped at the chance to abandon the library and the oh-too-beautiful Parisians in favour of a reading week mini-break.