Top Ten

I've always liked a good list.
When looking for places to see, places to eat, films to watch, music to listen to (etc.) the first thing I want is a top ten list. I want someone to say,
"Here you go. This is what the best ten ____ is. Trust me, cos I know my shit."

So I'm going to give you a top ten list: the top ten places I saw when travelling through London, Dublin, Cork, Galway, Paris, Amsterdam, Sicily and Rome. And you should listen because - well, I know my shit... (not really, but I've got some worthwhile opinions : P). I tried to steer clear of the regular touristy spots cos - well, they're so touristy.

These are in no particular order - it was impossible for me to choose one over the other. And I plan to write you a proper lil entry on each of these, so don't fret at the brevity of this list.

1. Monmarte Hill, Paris.
- Not only for the reasons listed in my last entry, but because EVERY SINGLE patisserie was a god-send. Pain au chocolat had a crust that broke to pieces under your teeth and a centre that although was golden with butter, was fluffy and light. And the chocolat, oh that chocolat - it was dark, rich and gooey. You didn't even care that after eating one you were left with golden flakes of pastry on your shirt and clinging to the corners of your mouth - you'd probaly go and pick every last flake and cram in into your mouth. To quote Peter Mayle, 'It was like eating the sun'. It was warm and rich and light with a smooth, dark centre of creamy chocolat. It was gooooooooooooodomgIcoulddroolnowonthetable.

2. Isola Bella, Taormina - Sicily.
- Because Sicily is the most beautiful place in the world (yes I'm going to make that gutsy statement). And Taormina is the most beautiful part of Sicily that I've seen SO FAR.
This place makes you believe in a higher power.

3. Brick Lane/Spitalfields Markets, London.
- This place is the essence of cool. As uncool as it is to say that, it is so true. There are small boutiques with vintage clothes and one-of-a-kind handbags, there are grungy bars that look like abandoned warehouses, there are original market stalls with organic/spice-infused/gluten-free (trendy) foodstuffs...and of course, there are those 'wicked cool', 'troubled' characters with purple hair, army boots and bull nose-ring piercings to go with it all.

4. Red-Light District, Amsterdam.
- An eye-opener. A must. And places actually have red lights.

5. Il Colosseo, Roma.
- This was the most profound historical sight for me. And although it's an obvious one, it is so for a damn good reason. I looked up at this place, and just felt the history seeping out of its travertine walls.

6. Brighton Beach, Sussex.
- Imagine crashing waves a la the opening scene of Grease and a long-stretching pier with milkshake stalls, toffee apples, fairy floss and claw vending machines aplenty.

7. Chateau de Versailles, Versailles.
- Marie Antoinette lived here. As if that doesn't catch your attention? If not, it is the epitome of grandeur in architecture and design - the hall of mirrors will make even the most avid hater of consumer fetishism wish she/he was of 'noble birth'.

8. Aran Islands, Galway.
- Hire a bike and get lost here. You will never want to be found.

9. Blarney Castle, Cork.
- It's beautiful. It has a great story to it. And it comes with that Irish humour.

10.  Notting Hill, London.
- If I had to live anywhere else in the world, it would be here. Notting Hill - Portobello Road especially - is a charming, colourful (literally and figuratively) and lively area. Plus, you can visit the Travel Book Store and Hugh Grant's blue-now-painted-black door from the movie.

So there you go. My top ten. I'm actually pained that I have to stop at ten cos I have at least another ten I could rave on about...but I won't. Top twenty just doesn't sound as good.

Monmarte Hill

I have always wanted to see Paris. Not unlike most people who have been enamoured with the sight of Le Tour Eiffel lighting up the night sky.

But now having seen Paris; having walked its streets, tasted its food, smelt its scents and encountered its people, (not the nicest...) I have to say it is not the romantic scene out of classic Hollywood that most imagine. Yes, the architecture is spotted with sculpture so detailed you can see the veins bulging out of the arms of France's most revered. Yes, the croissants melt in your mouth like butter in a frying pan. And yes, the sight of the Eiffel Tower is almost an hypnotic vision - just try not to squeal when it sneaks up on you from behind the buildings surrounding it. But, I think that this French city has been so romanticised by Hollywood, and maybe even by our own naive assumptions, that the place itself simply cannot live up to its reputation.

When I stepped off the plane I half-expected to hear Nature Boy sounding in the background, while Parisian youths, wearing striped t-shirts and black berets, cycled along tiny streets with fresh baguettes sitting in the small woven baskets at the rear of of their push-bikes. Instead, I was met by a sea of Algerian men shouting out in French while waving fluorescent Eiffel Tower figurines in my face. Across the road from the Moulin Rouge was a Starbuck's store. And the only berets to be seen were those, often brightly coloured ones, worn by Aussies sporting I heart Paris t-shirts.

I did not fall in love with a tall, dark and handsome man with a strong jaw-line, a thick head of hair and a love of cooking. I did not 'discover' myself or experience a cultural revelation... but that is not to say that there was no magical allure to the City of Love. I just did not find it in the city centre with an eclair in hand; I found it in the red light district.

Historically, Monmarte Hill was home to the majority of Paris' many artists as it was cheap and boasted broad-spanning views of the city. Today, it is much the same. The top of the hill is filled with Parisian artists offering to paint the portraits of passing tourists... I discovered this place on a warm afternoon in July. It was crowded; so packed that I couldn't stand still for thirty seconds without feeling hot flesh rubbing up against me. I sat on a vacant piece of sidewalk and watched on as one particular artist tried to charm passersby. 'Bonjour! Shalom! Hello!' He'd jump out in front of unassuming tourists and tell them they 'had a great face for characature'. He proudly wore a rounded belly and his white Santa-Clause beard covered most of his creased face. I watched him for a good twenty minutes. When I stood to leave the artist market he was still searching for a subject...

I walked along one of the hill-top's narrow streets, toward Sacre Coeur. There I found myself a comfortable piece of grass, planted myself on it, and stared out onto the panorama of Pari. And that, was pure magic.