And now for something completely different

Dear Blog Readers:

I should mention that I do in fact always think of you when I write this blog. The scariest part about this is I'm not completely sure who you are. I would like to assume that you are at least my mother and my grandmother, but let's be honest, my grandma probably doesn't read this every week (and mom, if you don't either, let me keep my self-esteem and don't tell me.) Maybe you're my friend, or acquaintance, or maybe you're just some creep who is way better at computers than me and managed to come across this blog. Well, whoever you are, I hope you have been enjoying my adventures or at least finding my prolific use of sarcasm entertaining, and I would like to let you know that I am sacrificing precious sleep hours to write this. Today is Thursday, and for some reason apparently I write blogs on Thursday. (Or maybe I just don't like change, and not writing a blog this Thursday would be change at this point.) Also, I think about you quite frequently, whoever you are dear blog reader, and because of the mystery of your identity (and because I have the unfortunate gift of candidness) I thank God that someone invented the backspace key. I find removing the foot from your mouth is much easier when your mouth is a keyboard instead a piece of anatomy.

When I left off, I was on my way to Paris. I was in an airplane saying good riddance to Vienna and hello to France. First hurdle: Charles de Gaulle. Now, me and ol' Charlie have a history. My first encounter with this ill-tempered creature was last year on my Blue Lake trip. When I arrived there for the first time, I was already overwhelmed by a number of things, including but not limited to: having friends/coworkers fired, having a new job position, having new, untrained coworkers, being the new choir accompanist, sleep deprivation, walking pneumonia (unknowingly at the time, just thought it was a weird cough), 1st time in Europe, etc. On top of all this, just when we landed in good ol' Charlie, we found out that the orchestra that was accompanying us had had their trip canceled due to Swine flu. Not a good first date, Charles.

2nd time: Survived that which could be properly described as "the trip from hell" (though now I prefer to focus on the good aspects), and landed in Charles de Gaulle. I'm the counselor at the end of the line, monitoring the kids. Of course, one girl has misplaced her passport, but this is after all the others have gone through security. So I'm running around the Paris airport frantically looking for this girl's passport only to come across another one of our girls who had gotten lost. Now I am alone in Paris with two crying 14-year-old-girls, facing the realization that we have missed our flight and the next week will be spent between the American Embassy, Mr. de Gaulle, and on the phone with Blue Lake. Fortunately, the passport was recovered eventually, the plane had a 3 hour delay (only partly due to us) and we made it back to Chicago. Strike #2 Charlie.

3rd time to Charles. Get off the plane, wait in line for luggage. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. And here comes my bag. (well, technically my mother's, but mine for 6 months.) Huge rip in center of bag. 3 Strikes Charles. Game over.

But that's enough negative. My last blog had negative vibes, and I'm afraid I've started this the same way. Let's pull out the sunshine, and be happy!

And that's exactly what happened. I couldn't have asked for more perfect weather. Always warm and sunny, but never too hot that I couldn't sleep or even be too uncomfortable. Also, people seem to have this stereotype that the French people aren't nice. I have always been told they are cold and impersonal. This is simply not the case. Everyone I met was warm, friendly, helpful even. Perhaps this is because I tried to stick to French, a thing most Americans do not have a habit of doing. The people I met were always understanding and helpful. So I love the French people, as well as their city and their food.

Now I know this sounds like a big claim, but it's true: Everyone is Paris is beautiful. By "everyone" I really mean 80%, but still that's a lot. And if you're not beautiful in Paris, you better be well dressed. And if you are neither beautiful nor well dressed, you are simply a tourist who is not from Paris. It was incredible to be in a city with so much beauty, from buildings to people to gardens. Of course, it does make one somewhat self-aware, especially when you are not as beautiful or as well-dressed as everyone else, but hey, I was a tourist.

I won't bore you all the details of my stay; but I saw all the sights that were on my list. I've decided to write my list and give a catchphrase to describe it:

Eiffel Tower--overwhelming enormous and not cliche at all
Jardin Luxembourg--exotic and relaxed with a huge flow of people
La Defense--awesome modernness
Arc de Triomph--big
Champs Elysee--expensive
Louve--enormous and gorgeous, masterpieces galore
Notre Dame--musty and jam-packed
top of Notre Dame--the best views, complete with gargoyles!
Centre Pompidou--WILD
Musee/Jardin Rodin--Romantic, Physical, and delicately overwhelming
Musee d'Orsay--incredible
Sacre Couer--Religious experience and favorite sight despite annoying con men
Versailles--unbelievable
crepes, baguettes, croissants, and other general french food--delicious

Other details about Paris: I got my own personal tour guide! It was great. Maurine is the older sister of Clemence. Clemence is a bit of a celebrity in my house due to her stay their a few years ago with Gracie. So Maurine and I became buddies. Most of the conversation was in English, but occasionally it would switch over to French. She had the most perfect French accent while speaking English: not a single "h" was pronounced, and all "th" became "z"s. It was great. On Friday night I crashed at her house, where I ate a huge French meal with her family, got to meet the famous Clemence along with everyone else, got to play a piano for the first time in a month, and then I even got a pull out bed to sleep on instead of a couch. Definitely an improvement from the hostel.

Then I took the Chunnel and went to London, where I am currently. But I'm exhausted, and I would love to write about London, but I think sleep would be a better plan. So that's the story of Paris, and I can say that it is the most wonderful city I have ever been to. Currently I'm beginning my plot on how to live there at some point.

I'll try to update before Thursday; maybe this weekend if I have time. Until then, Au Revoir