- I'm finnish. You know, Finland. The country that got named either after a bog (Fen-land), of for being at the end of the world (Fin-land).
- As a child, I dreamed about living in France. For me, a history and art geek, it was supposed to be the ultimate rush. As it turns out, I was right.
- I've tried other countries. First Finland (duh), then France, then the USA, Malaysia, the Canary Islands. Always kept coming back to France.
- My thing about France is inexplicable. I've suffered six years of Paris, after all, and still stayed.
- No, I will not start on french-bashing. These people may look at me weirdly and snigger at my accent, my rowdy habits and my Viking matron look, but they let me stay.
- I love food. I'm in awe of french food. The wines don't exactly bother me, either.
When I take a walk around my little medieval village, I only see cats. People are moving out of these charming little towns. My wish is to get them to move back. Artists, especially. There is an old Renaissance hotel for sale in my village, ready to be transformed into a cultural center. Any takers? I'd be more than willing to run it for you. Artists need peace to create culture, the abandoned french countryside needs culture and inhabitants. Any ideas on how to get this unbalance fixed?