Stee-rike!

So apparently, when the French aren't happy about something (like being forced to work more than 35 hours a week...horrifying, right?), they strike. They don't go to work, and they protest in the streets. And since they're not going to work, the rest of us may as well hang low too. Metros don't run, big trains don't run, mail doesn't run, etc. They march, they dress up, they hold up signs, they sometimes (but not always) do ugly things and get arrested. After considering the implications of the strike, I decided that Thursday would be a good day to stay home & study my French. I did leave to get some food. This girl is NOT going to miss a meal because of some disgruntled French strikers.

Anyway, that was Thursday, and for me, the strike was totally uneventful. Wednesday, however, was a little more interesting. I met Quinn for lunch in Montparnasse which has a great market on Wednesdays and Saturdays (see pics of olives and cheeses below). We dined on delicious crepes and shared a small carafe of wine. In the middle of the day. On a Wednesday. We felt decadent. And a little buzzed.

Oh, but wait...on the way there I had a metro encounter.

So there I was...sitting on the metro, minding my own business. We were approaching a stop, and a man who was leaving the train glanced at me then stopped in his tracks. Instead of exiting the train, he came & sat by me. He was dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, and other than the fact that he was smiling at me, nothing seemed unusual. He started speaking to me in French, and I didn't understand a word he said. I told him that I only speak a little French, and he switched to English which he spoke very well. Unfortunately, I understood everything he said from that point on. He said I was beautiful. (ok, I can take that.) He asked if I had a boyfriend. I said yes (because he wasn't cute; ok, if he had been, I would have said no). He said he liked my mouth. (hmmm...a little personal.) He asked if my boyfriend was French. I said yes. He asked if he could kiss me. I said no. He asked when I was coming back to Paris. I said I live here. He said, "are you trying to break my heart?" I laughed. He asked if we should keep in touch. I said no. He asked again if he could kiss me. Again, I said no. FINALLY we reached the next stop, and he asked if this was my stop. I said no, and he said it was his and asked once more if he could kiss me "just once." Again, I said no. He said, "ok, bye bye!" And left. Thank God. So while it's a little flattering, it's also a little creepy. Granted, if he were cute, it would have been a lot more flattering and a lot less creepy. And I never felt threatened. There were a couple of guys sitting across from us, and they kept watching me. I think they were watching for my reaction, and I sincerely believe that they would have come to my defense if they had felt I needed defending. They're rude walking down the street and getting on and off the metro, but generally speaking, French men are gentlemen and will come to your aid if they need to. Anyway...whew. My friend Anne-Marie once had a guy on the metro tell her she was beautiful and kiss her on the cheek, but that was it. A little less creepy than my experience.

And I went to my first meet-up Wednesday night. It was fine. Met a few nice French people who were working on their English. Their English is much better than my French. One woman, Marie, is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in Paris. She was very nice, and when I asked if she was working the next day she said, "Oh no. There's a strike. I told my students not to come to class." See. When the transportation workers strike, everyone else might as well too.

The day that started with a smackdown & ended with public snoring

Of course, I was only a spectator.

Today was try number 6 or 7 for the Carte de Sejour. I was at the prefecture by 8:25, and the line was not too bad. We were out the building & down the street a bit, but not by much. Everyone was just shuffling along quietly until the smackdown, which happened about 8:45. I was barely in the building when this woman "excuse-moi'd" past me and was trying to get by this older man who was two people in front of me. Unfortunately for her, he was not having it. He argued with her (in French, of course) about the fact that we were all waiting in line & she could darn well take herself to the back of the line. She argued that for some reason, she belonged up in the front of the line. I don't know what her reason was, but both were convinced of their opinions, so she just tried to walk around him. That's when he tried bodily to stop her and started yelling for the police. Now this man was elderly. He had no business tussling with what appeared to be a healthy (not small) young woman. The mean little man in the glasses (you'll remember him from my last visit) came out & asked what all the fuss was about, and they stopped wrestling long enough to present their arguments. She must have made her point because the angry bureaucrat let her move forward, and the elderly defender of the line got quiet. The rest of us were speechless. Now you know me...I'm as mad as the next person when someone tries to jump in line, but I draw the line at wrasslin'.

So, after that little diverson, the line moved relatively quickly, and by 9:15 I was speaking with one of the behind-the-counter-bureaucrats who determined that my paperwork was in good order. Yay! Progress! By 9:30 I was upstairs waiting for the NAB--next available bureaucrat. Excellent. Or so I thought. Apparently there are at least two groups of numbers given. R numbers are apparently for people renewing their Carte de Sejours. D numbers are for people getting theirs for the first time. Apparently the D stands for, "you'll be spending the day here." There were at least six people waiting on R numbers. There was one PAINFULLY slow chick waiting on Ds. Lucky me. When I got there she was on #3. When she left for lunch (and they all left for about an hour and a half while we sat, starving & waiting), she was on #8. If not for a guy who started seeing D people after lunch, I would have had to sleep there tonight.

On average, the chick waited on two people an hour. She'd call someone up, spend 10 minutes talking to them, send them to sit back down, then shuffle papers, walk behind the counter, and chat with other bureaucrats for about 45 minutes before she'd call someone else. I was sending "pick up the pace" vibes to her, but they didn't take.

So after six hours of just sitting there, waiting, watching numbers come & go, watching R people come and go, wondering if I would ever be waited on, my number appeared on the magic screen, and I got to see the nice, speedy guy at guichet 18! He was the nicest of all the bureaucrats so far, and after 7.5 hours there, I left. At 4:00 this afternoon, I left with my temporary card and an appointment for my medical exam in about four weeks. After that, I should get my real life plastic Carte de Sejour! Who knows how long it'll be good for--and therefore how soon I'll have to renew it, but we'll think about that later. Wish me luck!

So, there I was: temporary card in hand and medical appointment scheduled. I even lucked out and got a seat on the metro ride home. In the seat next to me sat a woman who was apparently very tired. I glanced over at her & thought, "is she sleeping?" A minute later her snoring gave her away. The woman across from me heard her and started giggling which, of course, made me giggle. I wondered if we should wake her. I mean, who wants to go to sleep in Paris and wake up in the Paris suburbs? (Take my word for it, it's not American suburbia; you don't want to wake up there.) We left her alone, and who knows where she's sleeping now. There are people who sleep in the metro stations, but I don't think they'll let you spend the night in the cars. And yes, I did think that a picture of her sleeping on the metro would be great here, but I thought that would be rude. And the flash would probably wake her.

So no pictures today. Just envision masses of hungry, irritated people playing musical chairs and wondering when they're going to get to eat again. Then picture me buying a whole baguette and eating 2/3 of it immediately. And if you want you can imagine the smackdown. Now THAT would have made a good blog picture!

Ahhh...Saturdays.

Even when you're unemployed and living in Paris, Saturdays are good. For one thing, the prefecture isn't even open, so there's no pressure to make any effort toward getting my carte de sejour. For another thing,...actually, the prefecture thing is the only thing that differentiates weekends from weekdays for me, for two more weeks anyway.

A great Saturday starts with a good Friday night, and last night I had dinner with my new friend Quinn whom I met when we were in line to take our placement tests at the Sorbonne. She's from Seattle, very nice, seems very normal & totally un-crazy, and is close to my age and single, so we have lots in common and plenty to talk about. We found a great restaurant in Les Halles last night called Les Petites Carreaux where I had steak (unusual for me) and potatoes followed by creme brulee. Quinn had coq au vin, and we split a carafe of wine. The food was hearty & delicious, the service was great, and I loved the restaurant in general. It's nice to have a new friend and a new restaurant!

As for the placement test, I'm pretty sure I won't end up in the strictly beginner class. I think I'm going to be in the "elementary" class. Which is one step up from beginner and feels right. I had to take the test over at the Raspail location, so afterward I walked a bit and noticed La Coupole, a famous Paris cafe. I ducked in for a cup of coffee and decided that since it was 3:00, Friday, and I had just taken a test, I would have a champagne cocktail instead. So I sat in the window, sipped my very strong cocktail, snacked on the dried fruit & nuts they brought me, and watched the world go by. It's a cool place, and it's huge! It seems to attract a mostly geriatric crowd, but it's beautiful, and the people watching is interesting. It actually felt more like a New York restaurant to me. It's certainly not my boho Montmartre village, but if you're here you should pop in for a drink. Here's a pic of the dome (coupole) in the middle of the restaurant and the sculpture that sits under it. After that cocktail, I needed a good, hearty dinner.

This morning my little energizer bunnies actually let me sleep in, bless their hearts. It felt great. After a leisurely morning of cereal & coffee, email, and list making, I ran errands & picked up some essentials including more bread, more wine, and more cheese. For my friends who are in the know with this sort of thing, I picked up some Brillat Savarin...mmmmm. And since you're not here to help me, I'll be forced to eat all of it. 'Tis a shame, I know.

After errands and a stop at home for lunch, I walked over to the Musee de Montmartre for a little Dali and Picasso. It's a small museum, but it has some great pieces. The Picasso pieces have a friendlier feel than a lot of his work--shiny, happy pieces, and the Dali pieces include some beautiful paintings and great sculptures. I would post pix, but they didn't allow picture taking. I saw two famous Dali clocks, but there's so much more to Dali than I've ever bothered to learn. Consider me a new fan.

I left the museum & walked home, but not before a stop at Arnaud Delmontel for a few caramel du sel macarons. I came home & made a delicious salad for dinner (lettuce, prosciutto, goat cheese, and potatoes) and had macarons for dessert. After tonight, I'm going to have to institute a "once a week" rule for macarons of any stripe. My budget and my waistline demand it.

Off to pour another glass of wine and enjoy some French tv. Bonne nuit!

Sammich Smugglin'

Today was a good day. First of all, I think Potter is over his illness, thank God. Also, I had a successful day on the school front. And a really good sandwich.

Woke up to rain and high winds but couldn't stay in because today was the first day of registration for my classes at the Sorbonne, and I was kinda excited about it. I showed up to the first event half-soaked but was met by a very nice instructor who talked me through what I would do today. We spoke in French, and although she had to repeat a couple of things for me, when she had explained it all, I repeated it to her in French, and her enthusiastic reply was, "parfait!" (Perfect, if you hadn't already guessed.) I was to leave there and go back to the main Sorbonne building to pay & get my student ID & schedule of other appointments. She gave me a card that said to be there between 12:30 and 1:00. Since it was 10:30, I had two hours free, and since it was raining, I needed somewhere dry to hang out. I found a cute little tabac, sat down, ordered a cup of coffee, and started going over all of the paperwork she had given me. I headed to the Sorbonne a little after 12 and was pleased to see that the line I had to wait in was pretty short.

After about 15 minutes of uneventful waiting, I saw her. The girl in the condom. She was wearing a head-to-toe clear poncho, and my first thought on seeing her was "Oh my God. She's wearing a giant condom." I knew she was going to be trouble just based on the way she walked. Well, that and the fact that she wasn't the least bit embarrassed to be wearing that thing. She marched right in the door, totally ignoring the line that the rest of us were dutifully standing in. I have to admit that my second thought about her was, "I hope they send her back out here & make her get in line." I can't stand those special people who think the rules don't apply to them. Anyway, shortly thereafter, I got my wish. I was close enough to the door to hear her reaction upon being told that she had to get in line which was, "even when I have an appointment?!" The reply she got was, "all of those people have the same appointment." haha! (btw, all in French, and I understood it all.) So she marched out, waving her ticket (the pre-printed one that she couldn't have thought meant she was the only one due between 12:30 and 1:00) and ranting about having an appointment. Watch it--she'll be in MY class.

Once it was my turn, I met with another very nice lady who gave me an appointment to take a placement test, an appointment to take a phonetics test (?), and told me when and where to pick up my schedule. She could not have been nicer. Beat the heck out any experience at the prefecture, which I get to have another go at tomorrow. Ugh. Wish me luck.

So, after a successful morning, I was hungry. I metroed (new verb) back to my arrondissement and decided to get a sandwich. One of my favorites is a jambon du pays--their version of a country ham sandwich, country ham being prosciutto. Yum. So, I went to my favorite sandwich shop and ordered one. This one also had lettuce, mozzarella, and roasted tomatoes on it. It was warm, and I could only take a couple of bites as I was on the run, running errands and heading home. I started walking and realized that by the time I got home, my sandwich would be cold! So, I unbuttoned the middle button on my coat & stuck my (wrapped) sandwich in to keep it warm.

As I walked home, I remembered that the water in my apartment had been cut off this morning. I didn't know why, and I didn't know when it might be functioning again. (Luckily, I had already taken my shower, made my coffee, and given my babies fresh water.) I decided that I'd better pick up a bottle of water, so I ducked into a store & grabbed a bottle. When I moved my purse to get my money out, the paper from my smuggled sandwich peeped out of my coat, and the man at the cash register caught a glimpse of it and started laughing. Hey, you do what you gotta do, man! It worked too...I came home and enjoyed that nice warm sandwich with not one regret!

So all in all a good, if rainy, day. I also joined a couple of meetups to meet people. They do everything from going to movies to having dinner to speaking English and French to just having drinks. It seems to be a great way to meet people, so I'm hoping to go to my first event soon. I'll let you know how it goes!

A bientot!

Glee induced nausea

Ok, I know one of my three blog followers is going to disagree with me on this, but I'm invoking blog-ownership freedom of speech here and just saying it: I am OVER Obama and Obamamania. All of the glee, all of the "thank GODs," all of the "here comes the sun!" What the hell are people thinking? This man is an empty suit. There. I've said it. Maybe he'll prove me wrong, but I'm on record right now as saying, I don't buy it. He smiles well, he speaks well, and he raises campaign money well. And he voted "present" a hundred or so times. That means, "I want to be counted as here, but I don't want to take a stand." Yeah, that's the kind of leader we need. Lord, help us. Ok, stepping off of the soapbox now.


So back on this side of the pond, there are other things happening. Or not happening, as it happens. Like my carte de sejour which my friend Amanda calls "the card that keeps you from getting deported." Yeah...about that. Went to the prefecture this morning for the fourth or fifth time (losing count is a bad sign). Anyway, the nastiest little man "helped" me up to the point where he learned that I didn't have my original pre-inscription letter from La Sorbonne. I explained that the FRENCH embassy kept it when I applied for my Visa. The way I look at it, the French have it; it's up to them to fight over possession. Unfortunately they don't see it that way. Soooo, I went to La Sorbonne and asked a very nice lady for an original. She explained to me that she would give it to me but that it would not suffice. "But it's what he asked for," I sorta whined. She said that he would not want the pre-inscription letter; he'd want the inscription letter which I couldn't get until Thursday because that was the first day of registration. She promised me that he'd turn me away again and suggested that I just wait until Friday when I will have the inscription letter and student ID. All of THAT, she said, would appease the nasty little man.


So. Once again, I must wait for more paperwork, copy it, and go back for more fun at the prefecture. You should know, my friends, that once I FINALLY get everything together at the right place at the right time, I will only then get what amounts to a receipt and an appointment to come back yet again to take the next step in applying for the carte de sejour. There is much involved. Like I said, they don't make it easy.


Afterward, I walked around & went by the Pantheon, which is behind La Sorbonne & took a picture of it and the row of Christmas trees still standing in front of it. It's a beautiful part of the city.






Oh, and I woke up at 5am with Potter throwing up...in my shoes. The clogs were easy to clean; the boots were less so. He hasn't thrown up all afternoon or night though, so I hope he's over it. I told him that we were going to go see the cute vet if he kept it up. Trust me, cute as the vet was, it's not a trip I want to make.


So every day isn't macarons, champagne, and delicious fromage, but hey...that's life. And Paris sure makes a lovely backdrop.

Random Report

The census taker came yesterday, totally ignoring the fact that I had taken the weekend off from French paperwork. He spoke not a lick of English, and while I know that I am to fill out the form and do something with it by Wednesday, I don't know if I am supposed to take it somewhere or if he's coming back to get it.

With a little help from an online translator and a tiny French phrase book, I got it done. Don't ask me if it's right. For all I know, it could look something like this:

Q: When did you move here? A: American.
Q: How long have you lived here? A: English
Q: How many people live here? A: Bachelor of Arts

I think I did a little better than that, but there has to be at least one question that I interpreted in a new and interesting way.

The other, more delicious, highlight of the day was the Nutella Crepe I got in the Place du Tertre. That's the square near Sacre Coeur where the artists, including portrait artists, sell their paintings to loads and loads of tourists. Not caring if looked like a total dork, I took a picture of it--the crepe, that is. I had taken a few bites, but that just shows off the choco-nutty deliciousness of the Nutella inside.

On another random note, we've had clouds, rain, and very high winds here for about 24 hours now. When I came home from my errand-running and crepe-eating yesterday, Potter was hiding under the bathroom sink. I coaxed him out, but he'd take one look at the kitchen window & dart back under. I finally noticed the shade (which is hung OUTSIDE of the window in France) occasionally banging against the window. Didn't seem like a lot of noise to me, and Gracie was totally unphased, but I ended up closing the curtain, and Potter eventually came out.

Last night we had crazy winds, and after spending half of the night in the bathroom (and hours of calling me to come see him), he finally settled on the bed for a few hours of sleep. This morning, the wind picked up again and threw my table to the other side of my balcony. The shutters started banging against the doors, & I finally had to close them. Potter is still freaked out, and the noise of the washing machine running isn't helping. What's a cat to do?

No big plans today. Guess I'll just go visit Potter in the bathroom.

A bientot! (see you soon!)

Seriously

So today I tried, yet again, to apply for my carte de sejour. I got the sardine treatment getting onto the 13, and took that line for seven or eight stops. I transferred to the 10 and walked three or four blocks to the Prefecture only to find a big note on the door: "Not taking any first time CDS applicants today." No reason, just not doin' it. Well, alrighty then. So, I decided to go shopping on the Champs Elysees instead.

It's sales season here--the stores are allowed to have "soldes" twice a year, and right now they're on. Of course, soldes on the Champs Elysees aren't like other places. I found a gorgeous purse for about $200 (on sale) that I passed up. It was beautiful, but I knew I'd regret it, so I opted instead for a gorgeous loaf of bread and some lotion for my dry, dry skin--and at a fraction of the cost!

You know what else costs ridiculously more on the Champs? The toilettes. I'm used to pay toilets, but I walked up to the counter and was asked for 1 euro, 50 eurocent. Seriously? That's, what, $2'ish US! To pee! No thank you. I HAVE seen the time that I would have paid $2 for a toilette, but not today. I was only four or five metro stops from home, and while I would have paid 30 eurocent, I was not about to pay 1.5E. Crazy talk.

Anyway, crazy Champs Elysees toilette's aside, it is beautiful. The restaurants are, for the most part, overpriced. But there is a Laduree there. And oh how I love a caramel du sel macaron. I skipped it today because the line was also ridiculous, but I'm sure I'll treat myself again soon. I'm not afraid to treat myself, as you well know.

Oh, and success on the cat tower front. Potter actually climbed to the second and third levels on his own today and spent some time enjoying the view. Gracie likes to sleep in the first level, but one of these days I just know she's going to climb higher.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and although this sounds ridiculous, I'm glad of it. I've spent every day doing stuff for the carte de sejour, and since they're closed until Monday, I feel like I have the weekend off. Don't know what I'll do, but I'm in Paris...there are lots of options!

Wasted days and wasted nights

Growing up we listened to country music whenever we were in the car. One of the songs I remember was called Wasted Days and Wasted Nights, and as I think about today, this line runs through my head.

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm supposed to apply for my carte de sejour (residency card) within 10 days of my arrival. As of this morning, I have three days left. Now I'm down to two since today was relatively fruitless. I woke up and went to the Prefecture to which I was told to go. Waited in a little line in relatively comfortable weather (cold but not freezing like it has been). Got in and spoke with a very nice woman who asked a couple of questions then told me to go to a different prefecture--the one for my arrondissement (neighborhood). So...back on the metro and to THAT prefecture where I waited for at least two and a half hours in a line that NEVER moved. These waits are well known, and even though I kept thinking, "how on earth are they going to move at this pace and wait on everyone before 4:30?" I kept waiting...because everyone else was waiting--even patiently waiting. My rule, you see, is this: when in doubt, watch the locals. However, since all of these people were probably there for the same reason I was, they're not actual locals--they're foreigners like me.

Nonetheless, I waited. And waited. For no less than two and a half hours. Then all of a sudden a woman came out & said something in French which elicited sighs and groans from the crowd. I turned to someone that I thought might speak English, and he explained that she had informed everyone that the computer was down & that no one would be helped today. But, he said, "I don't believe them." He had asked her "since when" as in "how long have you known this and let us stand out here?" and she said about thirty minutes. Which he also did not believe. He told me that they do everything they can to discourage people from waiting in line, and he said that he was going to wait. He was a lawyer waiting on behalf of a client who was wandering around taking pictures. We waited for another five minutes, and all of a sudden, they let a bunch of us in. Finally! In the rush to get in, three women jumped in line in front of us, and I wanted to slap them. They had JUST gotten there, and we had been waiting for so long! Not that it mattered. When we got in they said even more firmly that they wouldn't be helping anyone today. At that point my lawyer friend decided to leave, and I figured if he was leaving, I might as well leave.

I did get one bit of helpful information during those otherwise wasted hours. I asked the lawyer about a translator, and he directed me to the American Embassy for a list of approved translators. Why'd a French lawyer have to suggest the American Embassy to me? Never occured to me, I'm ashamed to say. Anyway, I left the madness & treated myself to a pain au chocolat and cafe creme. (I think we can all agree that I deserved it.) Plus, I needed to get inside somewhere to thaw out as it had become considerably colder, and hours of standing in the cold had numbed my toes and fingers.

After the thawing, I managed to get a French cell phone (which I barely know how to use), so the day wasn't totally wasted. And if I sleep well tonight, the night won't be either. As for tomorrow, well, wish me luck.

Pizza Pizza!

It goes without saying that one of the great pleasures of Paris is the food, and while there is fabulous food all over Paris, finding good food in your own neighborhood is tres important! The President's favorite boulangerie is in my neighborhood, and his favorite baguette IS delicious. And right across the street from said boulangerie is a little Italian restaurant that won my heart today.

The Pizza Isabella is a treat made of thinly sliced ham, cheese, and herbs, and I ate half of one for lunch (and the other half for dinner, bien sur)! Unlike American pizza joints, there are no little shakers of months old herbs, peppers, and what passes for parmesan cheese. Instead there is a bottle of olive oil infused with tasty herbs. You pour the olive oil on the pizza, and oh my, is it tasty!

After lunch I went to the boulangerie and picked up a baguette and three mini-macarons (caramel du sel--my favorite flavor). While the baguette is very tasty with a great texture, the macarons are not up to the expectations set for me by Laduree. I ate them, of course, and enjoyed them, but they aren't the melt in your mouth, savor every crumb tasty of Laduree. S'ok. I know how to get to several Laduree's, and while the baguette is a staple, macarons are (uh, well, they should be) a treat.

I'm attaching pix of the tasty pizza and the bottle of olive oil--just to make you jealous.

Oh, and on the practical front, I visited my bank today, picked up my carte bleue (ATM/debit card), and updated my address. Making progress!

Tomorrow I have GOT to apply for my CDS (residency card). From what I hear, that's a nightmare. I'll let you know.

A bientot!

It all started...

It all started with a simple comment: "I wish I could find someone to meet me in Paris for a vacation." With that comment Susan put things into motion that had never even occurred to me as possibilities. Naturally I responded with, "I'll meet you in Paris!" Why not? Susan would be in Paris for a week of work, and she wanted some vacation time in the City of Light afterward. I had never been to Paris and had always wanted to go. First on the to do list: renew passport. With a little extra investment, that was quickly done.

We met two days after her meetings ended, and we started--where else--at the Eiffel Tower. It was October and chilly, and the fog made it pointless to go past the second level. But the view was still beautiful. It was Paris, after all.

Site seeing, cheese eating, and wine drinking for a couple of days and then--oh la la...look at him! He was tres beau, and after a few hours of flirting, Susan took one look at me and told the future. "You're moving here!" She said it almost breathlessly--like all of a sudden she knew it. The mental leap from vacation to total life change didn't take long. I thought about what she said for a moment and replied, "Hmmm...I might."

One year and three months later, I sit in my apartment in Paris and start my blog. Not to be with him, by the way. No, just to live in Paris! After all, I can. No husband, no kids, and everything else...well...

House? Sold.
Car? Sold.
Job? Quit.
Cats? Certified for entry and here in the apartment with me. Against their better judgment.

I've got enough money to stay for a year to a year and a half, and I'm planning to do some contract work that, with any luck, will allow me to stay longer. Who knows how long I'll want to stay. We'll see...

Right now, I'm well fed (more on that later) and happy. Dad, bless his heart, helped me (and the cats) make the move, and after 4 fabulous days, he's back home. I miss him, although as great as the trip was, I know he was glad to get home, & I know how glad Mom is to have him home. We ate such great food including a fabulous dinner that we made (well, we purchased a rotisserie chicken, but we made the rest), some melt-in-your-mouth caramel du sel Laduree macarons, sinfully rich ham & cheese crepes at a surprisingly delicious creperie in my neighborhood, and a dinner or two out at random restaurants that turned out to be wonderfully delicious surprises!

We did the Louvre, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, the Tuilleries, Jardin du Luxembourg, Angelina, and other sites around Paris, and we were so cold that it was always nice to come home to my toasty apartment. We packed a lot into four days, and there's still so much we didn't do. I can't wait for both of them to visit me. I hope they're coming in May. The weather will be better, and maybe the metro will be less packed! Oh the things we'll see, the things we'll do, the things we'll eat! I have plans, boy do I have plans.