They all said it's different when you live there. Paris. Worse they meant, but when I lived there it was better. The best. The Paris you live in is the best Paris. Those who were born into it don't understand the Paris that is Paris by choice.

A faint air of grandeur streamed through the colossal pillars of the Parthenon as the ruin lay bare before us like a whale skeleton’s rib cage. Stranded atop an outcrop in the middle of Athens, the cluster of marble bones was surrounded by others—devastated remains of the Acropolis, the once pulsating citadel in the heart of Ancient Greece.

Well, Jakarta, there is no easy way to say this, but you didn’t make my Top 10. Or the Top 50, or the top, or even just the list. But then again, you know that I disdain these lists and that I made this one up just to tease you. You’re alright Jakarta. Sure, you are no Paris, but why would you be, or want to be? I'm sorry if I'm getting under your skin here, but see, that's exactly where I want to be. For yours isn’t a superficial Paris-beauty; yours is an underneath-beauty.

When is Venice? Because it doesn’t look like it is now. It is a replica of a fairy tale and at least one hundred million stories old.