But I come by it honestly. My great-grandmother (my mother's mother's mother) was born in Paris. I never met her but I own several pieces of her jewellery. I feel the connection.
When I was in high school, my mother bought me a Sorbonne sweatshirt, not the genuine article but good enough for me. One year (grade 11, I think) we were planning to spend March break in England and finally - finally - I was assured of a trip across the English Channel into the Promised Land. Unfortunately, there was a death in the family and my mother had to fly to the UK for a funeral before that trip took place. In university I had a poster of the Eiffel Tower in my first apartment and I took French courses. The dream was still alive.
Then what happened?
Long story short: I met a boy.
So, forgive me if I spend the next six months rattling on about tout les choses françaises. I am excited that I will be spending a month in Paris this summer. Indulge me a little, would you?
A trio of Eiffel Towers in miniature lined up on my dresser.
A beautiful necklace from my mother, sent to me for my birthday.