I walk Toronto’s smog filled streets and I breathe the thick hazy air, but I don’t see the endless concrete horizon. I don’t see the destitute man lying in a heap on the corner. And I don’t see the sprawling line of cars reflecting glaring sunlight into my eyes.
Instead, I see the gentle rolling waves of the Seine. I see gorgeous people in colourful cloth cut according to the latest trend. I see the ethereal Eiffel Tower twining it’s way into the sky.
I’m imagining myself in Paris. A city of romance and fashion and food.
With a sigh I am brought back to reality. Horns blare around me and oppressive heat beats down on the sidewalks. Visions of France have flitted away.
But not for long. I just have to hold out until March break. Maybe you don’t have to hold out long either.
All French students at Marc Garneau are being offered the opportunity to travel to romantic France. Ms. Matthews, better known as the woman who passionately runs the meditation club, is taking 13 children en vacance à Paris for eight days during the break.
There is only one problem with this trip: the money. Isn’t that always the problem?
The luxurious getaway will cost you a fine penny at $2500. Which is a lot of money… at least, my mother says so.
Hopefully I’ll be able to secure enough funds through blackmail and bank robbery to participate in the trip.
“I don’t see the destitute man lying in a heap on the corner.”
-In my opinion Paris had quite a bit more of those poor souls than Toronto. And Paris is filthier.