Cheese, it's one of the most important ingredients making up the rich tartiflette that is the French culture. Any Frenchman who doesn't have some mild obsession with the congealed stuff can hardly call himself French. Some people here in France do not like coffee, some have little affinity for wine, but everyone here loves cheese. I personally didn't eat much of it back home in Sydney, I did start to develop an appreciation for it back in London, and now living in Paris, cheese has become part of my everyday. So, after quite some time trying the soft stuff, the firm stuff, and even the green stuff, which ones are my favourites? > continue reading

It's not everyday that someone of my socioeconomic stature spends over £200 on a meal. And it's not everyday that one waits 3 years to finally sample the fruits of one of the most original restaurants the world has to offer. So after dining at Heston Blumenthal's internationally renowned The Fat Duck, I thought a few culinary notes were in order. > continue reading

A few weeks ago, after the triumphant feelings of finding work in Paris, I soon turned my intention towards accommodation. And still riding that euphoric wave I was quietly optimistic about finding a decent place to stay, with some cool flatmates no less. In the space of a few days my high had descended into an all time low. I spent countless hours surfing accommodation sites, I visited many shoe-boxed sized apartments and I even entertained the idea of living in the "banlieues de Paris". During this whole hope-crushing affair, I stumbled across Kijiji - a French version of the hugely popular free services site Gumtree (the one I used to buy my TV in London). Among the listings for unlivable filth-riddled studios and appeals from poor, desperate students, there were some rather amusing "offers". Here are a few that I came across. > continue reading

My intentions were clear - at the very least live one year in Paris to improve the French that I have been studying (on and off) for the past 4 or so years. I've sacrificed a lot to come to France. I tortured myself with French grammar, autonomously practiced speech for hours, and left some decent pay in England to pursue this - a Parisian birth. And now, after spending my first 24 hours in the French capital, I'm not really sure if I want to stay. > continue reading

Unlike the token World Cup support you widely find in Australia (myself very much included), London is full of proper die-hard football fans ready to put all their emotional wealth on the line for a solitary ball bouncing around a grass pitch. Not to say that Australians don't get 100% behind our national side, we just mostly turn it on during World Cup time while the English are absolutely mad for the game every day of the year. > continue reading

I was unable to go to work today after some medical treatment yesterday left me somewhat immobilised. After preparing a soothing cup of morning tea I was suddenly alerted to the incredible news of several bombs exploding during peak-hour here in London. There have been about 5 separate and simultaneous explosions leaving (so far) 20 dead and over 100 injured. One tore a bus right open like a thin tin of aluminum, people have been stranded beneath King's Cross underground for the past 5 hours and no one knows what the hell is going on. The whole thing is pretty horrific and I must say I'm quite jarred by it (even though safely at home). This is after all my first taste of international terrorism up close. The Bali bombings of two years ago were pretty savage, but they were far away in another country no one cared much about. This time it's different. This time all that destruction is a lot closer to home. > continue reading

Andrea and I have done about a week in Morocco now and while still extremely exhausting, we are starting to get used to the thieving culture ever-present to the average tourist. There have been some really dark moments along the way. Being ripped off by the tag-team combination of a Taxi driver and his guide at midnight along the dimly lit alleyways of Tangier's Old Media was an interesting experience. Getting sold a fake bus tickets on the way to Tétouan wasn't too bad either. I really should have seen that one coming - my bad. > continue reading