My final day

My last day was like a perfect Sunday (yes I know it was Friday, but it felt like a Sunday). I stopped at Place des Vosges and sat in the sun sipping my latte and eating my bread. I then wandered and did some leche-vitrine, which the literal translation is window licking. I practically laid my forehead on the window and sighed at the beauty within. I found a cute little eccentric shop and bought a couple of wee gifts. I searched out the second hand stores and bought myself a red velveteen jacket. A red velveteen jacket people. The irony is that it is from Sears. I continued roaming aimlessly up and down and around the streets people watching and window licking.

I stopped at a restaurant called Philosophie where I had a brilliant lunch a previous day. I am glad I did. I scored a table outside and ordered a beer and the tomato tart tartine. It was the most delectable tomato dish of delight that I have had in a long time. It was served with a side salad and some bread to sop up the juice. I sat for over an hour enjoying my lunch and then my latte. I shopped some more and then stopped at Cafe Hugo for an aperitif. I sat watching the people in the park who were all out enjoying the beautiful day. Finally I realized it was time to go. I went to a fromagerie and got some brie and the boulangerie to get a baguette. I picked up my luggage from the hotel and headed to my hotel by the airport.

I sat cross legged in bread tearing off chunks of bread and scooping up the creamy brie. Even though I was in a functional hotel by the airport the spirit of Paris still lingered.

More art

The Louvre is exhausting. The bloody thing is huge. I got lost just trying to find the stairs to get to the top floor to look at art. I did manage to see the German, Dutch and Flemish paintings from the 1500s to about the 1800s. There were also some French paintings thrown in there. I then went down one floor to see the Italian paintings and yes, I saw the Mona Lisa. There were so many amazing paintings in all the rooms around her that I was kind of underwhelmed. It does not help that there is a huge crowd, it is behind glass so there is a glare and people are taking flash pictures. It's like a circus not an art gallery. I kind of wanted to say to the people snapping pictures, "did you not see the fabulous Delacroix in the next room", but I knew they wouldn't listen. The Louvre might as well chuck all the rest of the art and change its name to Mona Lisa. I'll just end that mini rant.

I did see the Winged Victory of Samothrace, which I admit I fell in love with. I took a picture of the Venus de Milo that I hope turns out. After wandering around for hours, sometimes in circles, I admitted defeat and headed off to Montmartre. This is also the point where I admit I forgot to go visit the Catacombs. There were about ten gazillion other things I was supposed to go do, but quite honestly the days I have enjoyed the most have been the ones spent in La Marais not dealing with the tourists. My next paragraph will sum up more touristy feelings.

I then went to Montmartre and I admit that I had not yet had lunch and it was 3PM. I also only had a pain raisin for breakfast and was dehydrated. As I left the metro station and headed up towards Sacre Coeur I wanted to stop and check the map and find some place to eat lunch. As I pulled out my guide book one of the street hawkers said excuse me, and I ignored him, he then grabbed my arm and I shouted do not touch me. I continued to walk away but at that point I headed up into the crowds and the stairs to Sacre Coeur. He continued to call after me Hey Big Girl. Yeah- Big Girl. Needless to say I was hot, hungry and really pissed off. I got to the top of the mountain and I admired the view for two minutes and then I wandered into the teeming mass of tourism. It just made me twitchy. I kept walking until I found a quiet street and stumbled across La Maison Rose. By the way, La Maison Rose just happens to have been painted by Marice Utrillo.  I sat outside and had a nice omelette. I felt much better afterward and walked down to St. Vincent's cemetery. I was completely flummoxed though because there was just a high wall and no way in.

I started to try to pull out the map and see the sights, but I was done in. There have been very few moments where I just gave up on this trip and this was just one of them. I walked back the way I came and down the steps to head to the metro. As I was walking down the steps another street hawker did an excuse me and I ignored him and then he stepped in front of me and blocked me. The invasion of my physical space felt really threatening both times. I took the metro back to my neighborhood and stopped at the hotel to rehydrate. I then walked up to a boutique shopping department called Merci. They had some beautiful things, but most were outside my price range. I did thankfully find a very cute jewelry shop and I found a present for someone. I have not had much luck shopping and finding presents for people. It is hard to find something that is a step up from the 6 for 1 Euro key chains, but does not break the bank. Tomorrow I plan on wandering my neighborhood some more. I also want to try to find myself a little piece of art. We shall see.

I am starting to feel a bit sad about having to leave the day after tomorrow. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here but I have a feeling that I'll be back. 

A photographic day

Today, like everyday for the last week, was sunny. I started out my day sitting in a patch of sunshine on  Place des Vosges sipping an espresso au lait and nibbling on un pain chocolat. Amelia and Neil recommended Maison Europeenne de la Photographie Ville de Paris and I am very glad that I went. The special exhibit was titled "Collages by Jacques Prevert". He is known for his poetry and he is the screenwriter of Children of Paradise, but his collages are not very well known. He would take found photographs and bits of ephemera and make these collages that are almost like short stories.

Another exhibit was by Marc Trivier and covered the period of 1980-2010. They were all black and white prints and I found myself drawn to the play of shadow and light. There were also a couple of prints where either light leaked in or there was a mishap in developing and it just added to the ambiance of the photo. He did quite a few portraits of some very important authors and artists, but it was almost as if they were like the stark trees that he shot. Although each portrait caught the essence of the person, each portrait was shot in the same manner. At a certain point each person begins to seem to be the same.

My favorite exhibit was of Herve Guibert. His photos were so intimate, even if it was just of the pen on his writing desk. There were some shots that I felt like he was taking pictures in the moment-if that makes sense. It was as if he was living life through the eye of the camera. His photos made me see a bit of what was missing in my shots. I think I was looking at photography as a way to document a moment or place and Guibert showed me that it can be so much more. I find intriguing that his father gave him a Rollei 35, which is not a very technical camera and yet he caught so many images with it.

I then took the metro, which is so ridiculously easy to use, to Cimitiere du Pere Lachaise. It would almost be easiest to say anyone who was anyone in France is buried here-Collette, Chopin, Edith Piaf and Oscar Wilde just to name a few. At the request of a friend I did seek out Jim Morrison's grave and took an electronic (via the crackberry) and black and white photo. I wandered around taking pictures and simply enjoying the beautiful spring day.

The only sad point to this day was the creperie that Amelia recommended had no room for me for lunch. After visiting the cemetery I took the metro back to my neighborhood and stopped at a little bistro. While, I missed the creperie, I did enjoy a Kir Mure and a salmon sandwich as I sat in the afternoon sun.

My days have fallen into a rhythm here. I sight see all day and stop at the hotel for a rest in the afternoon before I go out to dinner. I have gotten some cold medication that is helping, but I am still fighting this cold. Today  I had lunch so late that I was not super hungry for dinner. I ate at a little bistro around the corner from my hotel and had seafood soup with some bread. I sat outside and watched the stars come out in a beautiful blue sky.

I am going to have to learn how to cook a proper French baguette. Bread here is life. There is a boulangerie on almost every corner. Breakfast is bread with a bit of butter and coffee. It is so contrary to my concept of breakfast that it was difficult to adapt to, but you do get used to it. Granted, I've been doing the weekend version, which is either a croissant or pan chocolate! Everyone stops and gets a loaf of bread on their way home from work or school. You will see people gnawing on it as they head home. Leftovers are simply tomorrow mornings breakfast.

La Marais

This morning I went back to the little cafe I had dinner at and had tea and a brioche for breakfast. I sat in the sun overlooking the Places des Vosges watching the people go by. After my tea I walked to the other side of the plaza and there was La Maison de Victor Hugo. The apartment that Victor Hugo lived in for almost twelve years before he was exiled from France has been turned into a museum. They tried to recreate the rooms as close to as when he lived there. They also had the desk he used to write at and surprisingly it was a desk you stand at to write. I think seeing how Victor lived made what he wrote even more incredible. He wrote about the downtrodden and yet lived in luxury. He was really able to empathize and recreate the environment that other people lived in.

I then planned on walking over to the Musee Carnavalet which is housed in two hotels, one from the 16th and one from the 17th century. Except, on the way I tripped over a Campers store. I may have bought these jolie shoes. Back to the Musee Carnavalet, they had a really interesting exhibit about store signs because in the past there were no addresses and so your sign was how people knew your shop.They also recreated rooms from the 16th and 17th century. With a large courtyard and the rooms opening up onto each other you almost felt like you were walking through one of Paris' celebrated salons.

After leaving the museum I walked over to a used clothing store, but I was too hungry to enjoy the thrill of the hunt. I found a cafe and sat outside and enjoyed a delicious baguette with Roqueforte cheese, walnuts and endive. I died and went to heaven. As I sat there sipping my nice hot cafe au lait the sun started to come out. It was so nice to sit in my little patch of sun and watch the people go by. I know I mentioned this before, but it is so nice to be able to sit in peace with my thoughts and not feel the pressure to busy myself or get something done. Then I stopped at Pozzetto and had a gelato. It was sublime. In the center was the caramel and around the outside they put the special of the day which was chocolate with bits of fudge in it.


I ate my gelato as I window shopped. There is definitely some window shopping to be done in this neighborhood. I stopped by another second hand shop and bought a beautiful scarf that is perfect for spring with its blue flowers and bits of lace. I'm trying really hard to not buy anything black. My wardrobe needs a face lift and after so many years of only black I am ready to branch out. At least I am trying really hard to branch out into color.

I stopped by a pharmacie and asked if they spoke English, but no. So, I managed to convey my ailment in French and get drugs. I realized what I was taking was helpful, but it was completely homeopathic and so I was having a rough time simply breathing because I am so congested. Now I am taking my vitamins and something with a little pseudophedrine. The best of both worlds. I also got liners for my shoes because I am in pain. I think I have finally worn my boots out. I have walked so much that it feels like I broke a bone. I am hoping that tomorrow with my new drugs and my shoe inserts that I will be ready to take on the day.

I walked over to a restaurant that was recommended in my guide book, but it was closed. My guidebook had also mentioned the Hugo Cafe which was not far from La Maison Victor Hugo and so I headed in that direction. The ambiance was nice and the food was delicious. I had grilled bass on a bed of mashed potatoes with grilled tomatoes. That and a bit of wine made my evening complete. 

Tourist for the day

Monday morning I took the metro to the Place Concorde and wandered up the Champs Elysees. It is a wide tree lined avenue and the trees are all trimmed to size. It does not cease to amaze me how well arranged nature is here. I wanted to take a picture of the trees, but none of the shots seemed quite right and so I did not take the picture (more on that later). Half the walk is trees and then you hit shopping. I wandered past a lot of stores and then I realized how hungry I was, especially since I had not had any breakfast and I stopped at George V. I paid too much money for a cafe au lait and crepe with smoked salmon, but it was worth it. Sitting sipping my coffee under the sun on the Champs Elysees was a moment to be treasured. I have gotten used to traveling alone, but I find that eating alone I usually arm myself with a book. I watched an older lady sit and sip her cafe content to be in that moment and I had an aha moment. It is perfectly ok to sit and enjoy ones meal or linger alone over coffee. That may seem obvious to some of you, but it was a life lesson for me.

I walked up to the Arch de Triumph and it is very grand. memorial. It reminded me of all I learned about Europe and the devastation of World War I and II. To see Paris as it is today it is almost hard to see how it had been pummeled during the war. Then you come across the Tomb of the Unknown soldier and stop and take a moment to reflect.

I then took the metro to the Eiffel Tower. There was about an hours wait. There was no wait for the tower that only had stairs, but there was no way I was up to climbing to the top. This cold I have will not go away and has knocked me on my bum. It really sucks. I keep trying to pretend I'm not sick. That is kind of working until I collapse. The Eiffel Tower is just oooh la la. The view is stupendous. Going up to the top in the elevator was one of the first times I had a little bit of fear of heights. It felt like there was nothing holding us up. It definitely was worth the brief moment of terror though. I took a couple of interesting shots and I hope they come out ok. My tour of the Eiffel took about 3 hours with the wait and by then I was exhausted. I took the metro back to the Champs Elysees because I needed to do a little shopping.

I stopped at Zara and was seriously disappointed. I expected some feminine flirty items and it was a sea of beige and black. H&M had some better choices, but everything that was pretty was polyester. I did at least find some unmentionables that I needed. I headed back down the Champs Elysees to the Place Concorde and there was the shot. The sun was setting and so the trees which are all in a perfect row were casting their perfect shadow. This woman wandered into my shot and did not seem to understand I was waiting for her to move it. Then she did and I have a beautiful shot of the boulevard.

I went back to my hotel to rest for a bit and then I went to dinner at a little bistro on the Place des Vosges, which is right around the corner from my hotel. One of my most memorable meals was a baguette with a bit of butter and cheese in the Hague. Dinner was a salad with a delicious mustard vinaigrette and a baguette with a bit of butter and cheese. It was just perfect.

Sunday in Paris without George

Sunday I moved from my hotel in the Latin Quarter to La Marais. My new hotel is quite posh. There is a little light in the water faucet in the bathroom that is blue when the water is cold and purple when it gets hot. How cool is that. It has one of the best showers I have had the delight to experience in a long time. Any who...back to Sunday.

I have to mention first that I am blessed to have such amazing friends who then introduce me to their equally amazing friends in foreign countries! I walked to Amelia's flat and met her and Neil. We went to the Jeu de Paume and saw Société Réaliste : "Empire, State, Building" which is a cooperative work with Ferenc Gróf et Jean-Baptiste Naudy. It was a really interesting concept because the exhibit broke down what we know of  time and location and remade it. I felt like I was missing something though. It was sort of like trying to read hieroglyphics without the Rosetta Stone. There was also a film installation Aernout Mik, Communitas. You really just have to see it.

The Jeu de Paume is right off the Place Concorde and you can see the obelisk and all the way down the Champs Elysees to the Arch de Triumph. We took a walk through the Jardin Tuileries and it seemed like all of Paris was out for a stroll. The garden is laid out in perfect harmony. Nothing is out of place. The trees are in perfect lines and even trimmed square. I just wanted to mess it up. We had worked up an appetite and so we stopped at a bistro for a late lunch. I forgot to mention that we walked through the Louvre on our way to lunch. Neil pointed out that everything all the way to the Arch de Triumph was in line. Very impressive Napoleon. Then we went to Gerard Mulot and I was introduced to macaroons. I kind of wish I had never taken that first bite. They are a bit crisp on the outside and then a wee bit soft with a creamy center. Certain foods taste good, but the texture is off. These taste sublime and the texture was perfect.

We continued walking along and wandered through the Jardin du Luxembourg. There the children can sail their sailboats across the pond. That is the only thing that can be a bit wild there, because once again the garden is laid out perfectly.It is kind of like when someone is wearing brand new white tennis shoes and you just want to muss them up a bit. We found a couple of chairs and did some people watching. There is some great people watching to be done on a Sunday afternoon in Paris. By then the sun was starting to go down and so we took the metro to a bistro close to my hotel in La Marais. There I had my first aperitif. I had a kir framboise and it was good. Then Amelia and Neil were kind enough to walk me to my hotel where I bid them au revoir.

I forgot to mention that when I met them at the metro stop the night before I immediately stepped in to give Amelia a kiss on each cheek. I've actually gotten used to the practice, but then Neil went to give me an air kiss on each cheek and I visibly recoiled. I have become so accustomed to not touching any man in Iraq that I did not know how to respond. I recovered and air kissed, but then I had to explain to him later why I had stepped away. Cora sent me an article called "Don't Touch Me, I'm British", which is quite interesting. Add to that the fact that I'm an American woman living in Iraq and travelling through France and I just don't know which way is up!

J'ai un rhume

Translation-I have a cold. Today I slept in, because I have a cold. I went to the boulangerie that I got the fabulous croissant from yesterday, but there was a line. So, I went to the boulangerie/cafe a couple doors down and they carried the baked goods from  the other place and served cafe au lait and had a place to sit. Score. I drank my delicious coffee and ate my delicious orange brioche and then continued on my walk to Notre Dame, across the bridge and to Centre Pompidou. When you look at this building it just makes almost no sense, but then it kind of does. Walking towards it I saw what I thought looked like gerbil tubing on the outside of the building. Oh the irony, that 'gerbil' tubing is the escalators to the other floors. I then felt like a gerbil.

I do enjoy most modern art. Most. I think what I find interesting is watching the transition that many artists go through to reach their apex. Some days though, it is too much and I feel like I have information overload. Today was one of those days. There was an interesting exhibit called Mondrian/De Stijl which was about a Dutch movement that translated is called neo-plasticism. The philosophy behind it is interesting, but it was just too much. Actually if you see one of Mondrian's paintings you would recognize it. The one cool part of the exhibit was a pseudo recreation of an exhibition in the early twenty's that included a charcoal drawing by Mies van der Rohe of the first glass skyscraper.

I then went to the museum's gallery which included work from 1905-now. I don't know why, but it made me miss the Art Museum in Chicago. I have been to quite a few modern art museums all over the world now (which sounds pretentious, but it is just the truth) and I find that I am piecing together an artists work based on what I have seen elsewhere. It has definitely deepened my understanding of art. Today though I admit I just wasn't in the mood. I was making my way through the exhibits more quickly to find the exit and then I stumbled on a room of photographs by Man Ray. The photographs themselves were really great, but the subject matter was astounding. There were pictures of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Hemingway, French philosophers and artists. The range and depth of people was just mind boggling.

I left the Centre Pompidou and headed to a sushi restaurant that was in the neighborhood. It was very delicious. I love sushi and now  I have had my sushi fix. After lunch I headed over to the Saint Eustache church. It was built between 1532 and 1640 and it is just beautiful. It has the soaring arches of Notre Dame, but since it is on a smaller scale it feels so much more intimate. As I was walking through the church I stumbled on a section dedicated to St. Vincent de Paul. I have not been actively looking for him, but he is such a part of Paris' heritage that I keep finding him.

By then I was a bit cold and tired and so I headed back to the hotel. I dropped off my camera and then walked to Mosque de Paris, which has a hammam. It was not quite as nice as Cemberlitas in Turkey, but it definitely did the trick. I laid on the warm marble slab until I felt like goo and then I went and had a massage. The other difference about this hammam was that it was much more communal. There were groups of girlfriends and families and it was a very lively experience. After my massage I went back to the hotel and got a hold of a friend of Cora's, who I then met for drinks along with her American boyrfriend. Of course I knew that since they were a friend of Cora's they would be fabulous and I was not wrong. I am meeting her and her boyfriend tomorrow to go to a photography exhibit.


I'm still plotting a way to stay forever. Sigh.

Ile de la Cite and Ile St. Louis

Today was a touristy adventure. I started my day with an almond croissant from the Erik Kayser boulangerie. Holy merde was that thing good. Then I felt guilty because I just had a croissant for breakfast. Of course after I had ordered the croissant I saw the small raisin pain that was not nearly so fat filled, but I'll save that for tomorrow. I vaguely knew what direction I was going in, but I wasn't quite positive where Notre Dame was. So, I nibbled my croissant and headed one way and well, there it was. Really, you can't miss it. I mean it's Notre Dame. The Notre Dame. Can you tell I was a wee bit excited. There is no history class or architecture class that can prepare you for how awe inspiring it is. Except, at one point I was thinking to myself that it was all a bit overdone and garish. Not the architecture of the building, but some of the side chapels. Anyways, after I wandered through the church and thought about all of the crazy huge historic events that had taken place there, I went to the Crypt Archeologique, which a friend had recommended. No, there were not any dead people, like I thought, but it had foundations of the city that came before Paris along with foundations for some medieval buildings. It was a whole layer of history hidden under the street.

After the crypt I headed over to Saint Chapelle, but the line was so long and there was no sun and I was hungry. I then walked to the Pont Neuf, partly to walk off that croissant and also to see the bridge. I then headed along the North side of Ile de la Cite and crossed over to the Ile de Saint Louis. There I had a delightful lunch of a quiche and green salad at Le Flore en Ile. Usually, I follow native customs and drink whatever the locals do. Today though they had tea on the menu and I've got a cold. Nothing sounded better then hot tea on a chilly day. There I was an American drinking tea British style in France.

As I was finishing up my lunch the sun started to poke its head out. While I appreciate long lunches and lingering dinners it can get kind of annoying when you don't have a dining companion. I finally got my check and went back to Notre Dame to climb up to the towers. Except for the American family, who were annoying as all get out, the view is definitely worth the climb. The whole city is spread before you and there, right there just hanging out are the gargoyles. I took so many pictures of gargoyles and I just hope they turn out.

I then went back and stood in the line for St. Chapelle. Since it is in a government building you have to go through security. It was well worth the wait. There is a lower chapel that is very intimate and beautiful in its own right. I was staring so intently at the strained glass that I didn't realize there was a small step until I hit it and almost catapulted myself into the statue of Louis IX. Note to self-look where you are going. I managed not to fall over and thankfully saw the signs pointing upstairs. This had been recommended by a friend and I'll admit, it was nice, but I couldn't see what the fuss was about until I went to the upstairs chapel. I probably would have fallen over if it was a sunny day. Even on an overcast day the stained glass is simply breathtaking.

After St. Chapelle I was done in and so I headed back to my hotel after I stopped at the pharmacy. I managed to have another whole conversation in French describing my ailment and getting the correct drugs. Woot. I think I'm going to rest a bit and then go find some dinner. Tomorrow, depending on the weather, is either the Champs Elysees or the Louvre.

Quartier Latin

This morning I had a bit of a lie in and grabbed a late breakfast/early lunch before I hopped a cab and headed to my next hotel. I booked the hotel at about midnight last night because I was supposed to be in Normandy, but que sera sera. I am now at the Hotel California St. Germain, which means I am constantly singing the song Hotel California to myself. I checked in and took an hour to orient myself and figure out what the plan was. Today I knew I just wanted to wander. Tomorrow though, I will go to St. Chapelle and Notre Dame because I checked the weather and there is supposed to be sun.

According to my guide book (the Lonely Planet Paris City Guide, which I actually don't recommend. There is no map of the metro-which is absurd, and the pull out map sucks.) there is a very famous bookstore called Shakespeare and Company that was not far from my hotel. I headed in its direction and instead of taking a direct route I wandered around. I was quite impressed with myself because you know how hard it is for me to walk slow, but I did. I got to the bookstore and I felt at home. It reminded me so much of Myopic bookstore in Chicago. There were books piled on books and random books that you never even knew were published. There were little hidey holes filled with books and a rickety old chair to sit in. Every corner you turned there were books packed to the ceiling. I spent a good time wandering through the stacks and wishing I had more room in my suitcase. I picked up a Norton Anthology of English Literature that was published in 1968 and paged through it. The bloody thing was so familiar because many of the authors and texts had not changed. One thing that has changed over the years is the acknowledgment that, oh yeah, women wrote too. The edition I picked up did not have one single female author. Not one.

Then I headed to the Musee National du Moyen Age, or the Medieval museum. The collection was amazing, but even more fabulous was the building it was housed in. A portion of the building is the remains of a Gallo-Roman bath from 200 AD and the 15th century Hotel des Abbes de Cluny. I would like to point out that most people go to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower and I head straight to a bookstore and medieval museum! They have the tapestry named the Lady to the Unicorn and it is staggeringly beautiful. It is one of those things that I have seen pictures of, but it is definitely something that has to be seen in person. I stood in that room and was in awe of the skill and beauty, but also the sense of history. The museum reminded me of the research I had done on cross-dressing women in the Renaissance. I miss them. The cross-dressing women of the Renaissance, I mean.

I stepped out of the Musee and across the street was the Sorbonne. I suppose you have to speak French in order to go there. I stopped in a cafe for some coffee and it was then that it struck me that I had been walking all around the neighborhood on my own. I am greatly appreciative of the sense of freedom I have here. On leaving the cafe I saw that it had rained while I was safely ensconsed inside. I then wandered up the street and did a little bit of shopping. As much as I am against McDonalds taking over the world, I have to admit to a guilty pleasure of being able to step into a GAP and find something that fits. I also stopped at a bookstore and picked up a recipe book called "Brunch & Slunch" (this seems to now be a tradition for me). All this time I had not pulled out a map and then I headed in the general direction of my hotel. Walked past the Sorbonne and looked at the street I was on, which is Rue des Ecoles. Well, duh it's the street of schools because the freaking Sorbonne is on it. It is also the street my hotel is on. I had not eaten since 11 that morning and so I stopped at the Boulangerie and picked up a multi-grain baguette to tide me over until dinner.

Dinner was at a very romantic restaurant called Le Petit Prince. I had the mussels gratin, which was mussels in a chunky tomato sauce that I sopped up with bread. Dinner was salmon on a bed of vegi's with a baked potato with a dash of creme fraiche.I made it through the entire dinner in French. It was delicious. The only problem I had was that I can eat in the 'Continental' manner, but I was completely stymied when the fish came to my table and they set a fish fork down (ok), but then they gave me a butter knife. At least I always thought it was a butter knife, but maybe I was wrong. Regardless, I ended up eating it American style because I could not figure out how to use the utensils. I need a utensil lesson s'il vous plait!

J'adore

Here is how to lose track of one month of your life- Hold a conference in Iraq, immediately have a one week training on peace building for you and your staff, and then spend the next week frantically doing everything that needs to be done before the end of March so you can leave for Paris. Phew. That leads us to today.

I flew out of Erbil on Tuesday and had a connecting flight to Paris through Frankfurt. As we flew in to Paris it was dark and I saw bits of light sparking in the darkness and in the distance this gleaming sea of light. As we swooped around the city I saw the Eiffel Tower standing bright among all that light. Charles de Gaulle airport felt like space mountain to me. It is the oddest configuration I have ever encountered in an airport and yet, it is very memorable. After taking an escalator shute to baggage claim I waited while everyone else claimed their luggage and I was still waiting when everyone left. I wandered around asking people in French if they could help me. Finally, I found some baggage claim people. I was filling out the lost luggage form when an airline worker brought my bag. Phew. Then I climbed into a taxi and headed to the hotel. The road to Clichy, where my hotel is located, was closed. It took a little big longer and a few more Euro to get to my hotel. Then, the gentleman at the front desk shook his head sadly at me when I said I had a reservation (in French no less). My reservation was for Wednesday, not Tuesday. Thankfully, he was ridiculously kind and called around and found me another hotel. My room was on the 5th floor in the eaves and felt like a dorm room and I was happy. The only problem is I hadn't slept in a twin bed for so long that I kept almost falling out of bed.

I got up in the morning and stood in the wrong line for a ticket, which meant I missed the 10:46 train to Caen. No worries, I took the 12:10 and still arrived in time to pick up my car. Except, they would not give me my car because I did not have a credit card (I only had my debit card). At that point, I was tired, cold and hungry. I was trying to think of some plan B that would keep me in the countryside, but with out a car and no public transportation I had no options. I wanted some time in the country and to see Normandy, but alas, no. So, I took the next train back to Paris and checked into the hotel I tried to check into last night. Thankfully I have a double bed. I went to dinner at the bistro across the street and had a delightful Croque Monsieur (pas de jambon, bien sur) and a couple of glasses of wine. Oh, and a nutella crepe. All I had eaten all day was a croissant and yogurt. There was some dijon mustard on the table that was so strong it burned, but in a good way. I was eating my Croque Monsieur with tears in my eyes and joy in my heart. I then traipsed across the street to my hotel.

Tomorrow, I think I am going to move to Quatier Latin. The only reason I was over here was because it was close to the train station to take me to Normandy. The real excitement is that I have been able to make my way around speaking French. There are a couple of times that I can't think of the word, or I conjugate verbs incorrectly, but I am doing it. In some instances I think I even have people fooled that I am not an American, until they respond so quickly and I have only have half a clue as to what they said. Oh well. Considering it is only day one, I think by the end of my vacation I'll be speaking more fluently. In shallah. Which reminds me, I responded to one gentleman in Kurdish. There have been a couple of phrases that pop up in my head in Arabic that I then translate to French. Too many languages!!