I ’ve just returned from a few days in Paris and while it was undeniably chaotic, architecturally stunning, and buzzing with energy, it also gave me unexpected space to think.
A Francophile Reaffirmed
Once again, I’m reminded how much I love French culture. The food culture alone is enough to stir admiration: the supermarkets bursting with fresh produce, fish, and meat far beyond anything most UK stores offer. There’s a real sense that cooking from scratch is still normal here. Junk food? Far less prominent on the shelves. Instead, rows of legumes, pasta, and bottled veg make healthier choices easier and more accessible.
And then there’s the thriving local café scene. A pastry and coffee for €3.50, yes please. But more than that, cafés are hubs of connection. Old friends linger over espresso, conversations flow, and there’s a kind of slow-paced sociability that feels increasingly rare in UK high streets.
Food, Culture, and the Art of Eating Well
One of the things that stood out most was how food is still woven into the rhythm of everyday life. Supermarkets may look ordinary at first glance, but a closer look reveals something very different from back home: far less shelf space dedicated to crisps and convenience snacks, and far more emphasis on fresh, seasonal ingredients. The culture here still encourages you to cook from scratch, to gather around the table, to enjoy food slowly not just refuel quickly.
Even though I’ve since learned that fast food and convenience meals are on the rise in France, particularly in urban areas, that shift hasn’t yet overtaken the country’s deep-rooted traditions. The daily rituals of eating together, preparing simple meals, and taking time to enjoy them are still clearly visible. It was a timely reminder of something I’ve come to really value: eating well doesn’t have to be complicated or expensive it just needs to be intentional.
Whether it’s a bowl of pasta around the table, a croissant shared on a bench, or a meal that takes an hour instead of ten minutes, these moments align deeply with what Slow Living is all about: presence, simplicity, connection. The joy of preparing a meal, of lingering over conversation, of choosing ingredients with care. These things are life-giving. It reaffirmed my desire to resist the drift into default convenience and honour food as part of a good life, not just a daily chore.
A Different Pace, A Different Place
Another observation: there seems to be less visible obesity. Perhaps it’s down to the smaller portions, the open green spaces, the number of cyclists, or the slightly slower rhythm of life. Movement feels more built-in.
Even their big shopping centres felt more curated with room for smaller specialist shops selling music, art, comics. I even caught myself wondering about getting back into vinyl again… though perhaps not just yet.
May be slightly controversial but to me there’s also something subtle but noticeable about how French families carry themselves. There’s a relaxed elegance, a kind of confidence in simplicity. Not overdone — just casual, considered, and comfortable. And I wonder whether better diet, better lifestyle options, and better design choices all contribute.
Fast Food vs. Shared Tables
One strong contrast was how jarring fast food felt after enjoying slower meals. Sterile lighting, noisy crowds, and bland, forgettable bites. In contrast, we spent a couple of hours in a small Italian restaurant one evening — enjoying beautiful food, laughter, conversation. It’s the kind of experience that creates memory, not just satiety. It reminded me how much we lose when we prioritise speed over experience, fuel over fellowship.
Head and Heart in Two Places
Trips like this always stir a bit of wanderlust. A part of me still longs to spend more time on the European mainland. But I also know the practical and emotional challenges — language barriers, cultural differences, the risk of isolation. I wasn’t born in France or Italy — I was born in Britain. And maybe that’s for a reason.
The quiet of the Peak District calls me back. I love a city hit (Paris, London, Rome…) but only in small doses. After a few days, I crave the silence of open spaces. The city gives me inspiration; the countryside gives me peace.
Moments That Matter
This trip reinforced something simple but important: quality moments don’t have to be complex or expensive.
A bowl of pasta eaten at the table.
A croissant on a bench with a view.
A good book on a quiet train.
These are the moments that stay with us so long as we give them the space to happen.
Great2Live 
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