Who's in France?!
So... I'm in France. In Paris, to be exact. A place I never imagined I would ever be. I'm not the adventurous type. I don't speak French. I know a grand total of two people who live in this country. So why not take a week of my life and fly across the world to do something unexpected, huh? Well, I did.
And, man, is it different here. Everyone speaks French, y'know? And it's crazy beautiful even with all the rain. Big beautiful gardens and historic buildings and French flags just everywhere. No SUVs. Everyone's wearing supertight sexy jeans and looking really hip. Mullets abound with the youth, as do cigarettes. And every direction you go, there's a museum or historical monument. Everyone's friends here, even the impatient cars that don't follow the rules of the road.
Today, my friend Emily woke me up from my jetlagged slumber state to a chocolate-filled croissant from Heaven's own bakery. After showering in the tiniest bathroom ever, I got ready for my day of Pariswalking. We went along the Seine to see all the major buildings where life flourishes for all Frenchies. Everything is well-preserved and proudly French flag-flown. I spent four hours at the Musee d'Orsay which houses one of the largest pre-, post-, and Impressionism collections in the world. Like, hello Van Gogh. Hey there, Monet. And what's up, Degas. Some of the most famous paintings in the world just hanging out like it's nothing. So that was better than sitting on my couch in Phoenix, I guess.
We went and saw the Notre Dame Cathedral as well, sat in a cafe and watched cute Parisians walk Frenchly by, and then went to an English bookstore called Shakespeare and Co. which has animals running around inside, mattresses for napping, and an entire floor just for browsing/not for sale. Then more bread and bread products for dinner, and now bedtime.
I still feel like an ugly stupid American whenever I have to say anything in French or when I see magazine covers that say things like, "Will America's Next President be Able to Fix the Mess?" Uh... But I'm taking it day by day. How else to process the otherwise paralyzing fear of being in a country where you can't use your cell phone, speak the language, or ask for directions to anywhere other than your friend's apartment? But I'm managing pretty well, keeping that voice to a low hum in the back of my head.
I long for sleep now. Will stop by again soon.
I don't update often because I don't feel like I have a lot to update about usually. But I think this is pretty significant.
And, man, is it different here. Everyone speaks French, y'know? And it's crazy beautiful even with all the rain. Big beautiful gardens and historic buildings and French flags just everywhere. No SUVs. Everyone's wearing supertight sexy jeans and looking really hip. Mullets abound with the youth, as do cigarettes. And every direction you go, there's a museum or historical monument. Everyone's friends here, even the impatient cars that don't follow the rules of the road.
Today, my friend Emily woke me up from my jetlagged slumber state to a chocolate-filled croissant from Heaven's own bakery. After showering in the tiniest bathroom ever, I got ready for my day of Pariswalking. We went along the Seine to see all the major buildings where life flourishes for all Frenchies. Everything is well-preserved and proudly French flag-flown. I spent four hours at the Musee d'Orsay which houses one of the largest pre-, post-, and Impressionism collections in the world. Like, hello Van Gogh. Hey there, Monet. And what's up, Degas. Some of the most famous paintings in the world just hanging out like it's nothing. So that was better than sitting on my couch in Phoenix, I guess.
We went and saw the Notre Dame Cathedral as well, sat in a cafe and watched cute Parisians walk Frenchly by, and then went to an English bookstore called Shakespeare and Co. which has animals running around inside, mattresses for napping, and an entire floor just for browsing/not for sale. Then more bread and bread products for dinner, and now bedtime.
I still feel like an ugly stupid American whenever I have to say anything in French or when I see magazine covers that say things like, "Will America's Next President be Able to Fix the Mess?" Uh... But I'm taking it day by day. How else to process the otherwise paralyzing fear of being in a country where you can't use your cell phone, speak the language, or ask for directions to anywhere other than your friend's apartment? But I'm managing pretty well, keeping that voice to a low hum in the back of my head.
I long for sleep now. Will stop by again soon.
I don't update often because I don't feel like I have a lot to update about usually. But I think this is pretty significant.