I was in Paris for one day in 2002.  One day.  It seems ridiculous – who goes to Paris for that trivial amount of time?  Me.  It was a brief stop in between London, where I’d been studying abroad for a semester, to Madrid, where my best friend was studying.  I was there long enough to visit the Eiffel Towel and the Arc de Triomphe, and to piss off a lot of French people with my rolling suitcase and sneakers.  But not long enough to have an Amelie-esque experience.

It might be a pipe dream, but I’d really like to go and see the world in shades of reds, yellows, and greens.  To see nuns playing badminton at the Sacre Coeur.  I suspect these things only happen in Jeunet films, but I’d like to find out.