On my first trip to Paris, I went alone. I was in my mid-20s and new to living in London, whilst my first husband was working in Africa. I knew, however, that I didn’t want to experience the City of Light with him. Whilst he wasn’t a bad man, he could be unpredictable at times, and my vision of Paris didn’t include emotional outbursts under the Eiffel Tower. And by emotional outbursts, I don’t mean passionately kissing. Continue Reading
