Days 75-79: Paris, France

Arriving in Paris is my first taste of culture shock. At the risk of coming across all road-to-Damascus-y and sounding like a complete prick who his changed his whole world view after a measly 8 weeks driving through Africa, it felt weird to be in Paris. I felt out of place. I'd had a few days in England, sure, but that was more like a quick pitstop at home, a wash of the clothes and a couple of beers and then I hit the traveller's road again.

Paris felt cramped, oppressive. Cars and people. No smiles. No hellos. The problem with Africa is that it makes you feel special- wide open spaces, obviously an outsider but a welcome one. And arriving in Paris, with my dusty backpack and sensible walking shoes, it was immediately clear that I was not.

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But what Paris lacked in a welcoming spirit for a newly confirmed Africa-phile, it more than made up for with eye candy, in all its forms. Beautiful people, stunning art and architecture, cutting-edge fashion. To turn a corner in Paris is to stumble across a magnificent building or sculpture that would command pride of place in any other city. It oozes class, style and elegance. The timeless beauty. And that's Paris- the most beautiful girl in the room, and she knows it. But she couldn't care less.

It drove me crazy with resentment. Still, I couldn't help but stare at her.