Ma cherie
Oh, Paris. You are not Worcester, you are not America. You are beautiful. You are expensive. You are L Arc de Triomphe, La Tour Eiffel, La Musee d Orsay, Versailles, La Musee de la Mode et du Coutume, Sacre Coeur, Les Deux Magots, walking by La Seine... Turkish neighborhood in the 20th arrondissement, getting hit on by French laundromat men and inventors and vendors in the market (men are inescapable, and the more I travel the better I realize that it will never be different), MetroMetroMetroMetroMetro. I will miss the Metro a lot, you whizz past the signs and think...
I am not in America.
Tomorrow is Le Centre Pompidou, Notre Dame, the Pyramides of Le Louvre (but not the art, because we are cheap and short on time, and it feels like more of an obligation than a wonder), and hopefully more goat cheese. Dinner on La Tour Eiffel at night, which will be expensive. But worth it. It is pretty much all worth it.
Amsterdam in 2 days.
Ireland in 6 days.
England in 11 days.
America in 16 days. How very very strange.
College in 28 days. Gnarly.
I am not in America.
Tomorrow is Le Centre Pompidou, Notre Dame, the Pyramides of Le Louvre (but not the art, because we are cheap and short on time, and it feels like more of an obligation than a wonder), and hopefully more goat cheese. Dinner on La Tour Eiffel at night, which will be expensive. But worth it. It is pretty much all worth it.
Amsterdam in 2 days.
Ireland in 6 days.
England in 11 days.
America in 16 days. How very very strange.
College in 28 days. Gnarly.