Zen

It’s Saturday. The city is in full swing. Tourist season is beginning. People are making plans. You need a rest. You need a day. To hear your thoughts. To connect with yourself. To forget a bit. To write. To be your utter self, in your company… Fully comfortable.

Bisous, 

Veronica

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Yeux

Eyes say more than motions and words. They express or inner selves, crying to explain. Any language, any city, any race… Les yeux connect and express.

Bisous, 

Veronica

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Xenia

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“The French are rude and they hate Americans.”

This is probably one of the biggest lies I have ever heard dealing with the French, or so I believe. Never once have I been shamed for being an American (except with my old host family, but even the French think they were weird). Revealing my roots, they get excited and ask me about where I am from. If they have traveled to America, they will recount about their experiences abroad. It is quite interesting. Continue reading “Xenia”

#WhenIWas: Growing Up as a Girl 

My W post today is a hashtag that has taken Twitter by storm these past few days.

When I moved to Paris, I realized my femininity. I was in the big city and I wanted to dress well, forgetting the small town norms of jeans and a t-shirt and feeling self-conscious when wearing red-lipstick, I went all out in heels and dresses that made me feel beautiful. I wore pumps for the first time, bought myself a sexy romper for girl’s night (first time I ever truly dressed sexy and a little provocative) and you can now see me always sporting the lipstick, what my friends now call V’s trademark. I always highly believed that my self-conscious of being slightly revealing was due to my body image. This weekend while reading #WhenIWas tweets, I had a sudden flashback to 5th grade.  Continue reading “#WhenIWas: Growing Up as a Girl “

V, Veve, Vero, Veronica


I have always loved my name. I find it sophisticated, and one that sounds like any language… Meaning, it has it’s sound in Spanish, English and French. It has always been easy for people to find nicknames for… V, Veve, Vero, Ronnie… It is my name and it starts with V.

Bisous, 

Veronica

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Under the Covers

Sundays are for under the covers, our bodies intertwined, our morning voices and our uncombed hair. Food fights, sacred kisses, burnt breakfast, unstoppable laughs… At least I tried. I don’t need much, just these moments with you.

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Train


Colors. Map. Numbers. I am lost. How do I get home? Small town girl, big city life. What if I never get back to my apartment? I have no phone. Anything could happen and no one would know. Shit. It’s stuffy in here. I’ll hop on this one. Damn, now I have to change lines. Why is this complicated? I was not prepared for this. Directions. Savez-vous…. She looked at me weird. Ok, I will figure this out by myself. You’ve got this. We’ve been stopped in this tunnel for a good 10 minutes, I swear. Line 13! Finally! I’m on my way home!

Oh wait, tomorrow the metro will not work due to a protest? Yay… France.

Bisous, 

Veronica

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