les jeux sont faits
Had there not been a certain someone who brings apple pies to my house in Miami, my parents, before leaving might have told me, "Don't fall in love in Paris (ie: with a French guy and stay with him and never come home again)"...
But what they should have said was not to fall in love WITH Paris.
It seems that somewhere in between the cold tortures of record low winter temperatures and the strikes that paralyse everything and the impossibility of finding a decent toilet to use 80% of the time, Paris became home. And I love it not for the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe or the Louvre or the Champs-Elyesees...but for the way it always surprises you with how small it really is, so that no matter where you walk you always end up at a place you know; the way that whenever you walk in the store, you will always be greeted; the taste of gelato at Amorino; the way the sun comes in my window as I sit here and type at my computer; the view from my window upstairs; how inexpensive books are; watching Friends episodes till one (or later) in the morning with Michel and Isa; the walk home from Notre Dame des Victoires; picnic lunches with Katie; the fact that there is so much to explore and you can find any type of restaurant from Cuban to Lebonese to I don't know what...
And amid all the normally dismal sights of a big city, I've beheld some pretty beautiful ones like the snow covered rooftops one winter morning, the Cuban flag flying from underneath the Pont des Arts...and one of my favorite sights of all: the moon over Paris.
Paris is always a good idea.
And incidently I'd like to say thanks to all my friends back home who've been so good about keeping in touch and making sure that I was smiling in spite of the homesickness and who have been so supportive. You guys are the best. Thanks for being there for me.
Gros Bisous.
But what they should have said was not to fall in love WITH Paris.
It seems that somewhere in between the cold tortures of record low winter temperatures and the strikes that paralyse everything and the impossibility of finding a decent toilet to use 80% of the time, Paris became home. And I love it not for the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe or the Louvre or the Champs-Elyesees...but for the way it always surprises you with how small it really is, so that no matter where you walk you always end up at a place you know; the way that whenever you walk in the store, you will always be greeted; the taste of gelato at Amorino; the way the sun comes in my window as I sit here and type at my computer; the view from my window upstairs; how inexpensive books are; watching Friends episodes till one (or later) in the morning with Michel and Isa; the walk home from Notre Dame des Victoires; picnic lunches with Katie; the fact that there is so much to explore and you can find any type of restaurant from Cuban to Lebonese to I don't know what...
And amid all the normally dismal sights of a big city, I've beheld some pretty beautiful ones like the snow covered rooftops one winter morning, the Cuban flag flying from underneath the Pont des Arts...and one of my favorite sights of all: the moon over Paris.
Paris is always a good idea.
And incidently I'd like to say thanks to all my friends back home who've been so good about keeping in touch and making sure that I was smiling in spite of the homesickness and who have been so supportive. You guys are the best. Thanks for being there for me.
Gros Bisous.