Wow. So I went to Paris. And it was even more random than the trip to London. As I’m beginning to type this now, I could cry a little bit because it was so amazing. This probably won’t be edited at all, but I’ll try to type the sites in French. Also, it’s going to be long because there’s so much to tell.
Before I even talk about anything, I am just so thankful to God I got to go and that I was with Lexi, Virginia and David. If it had not been for them, then most of this trip would have been lackluster and very underwhelming. So, I thank them and I hope we get to have more adventures soon. And next time, I’ll tell everybody!!!
I’m not sure what inspired this trip. Since January, I just needed a break from everything. I wanted to go out of town and I had planned on going to New York again, but I kind of changed my mind. It would have been too predictable and I would have seen some of the same things. Along with that, I also thought about Canada, but I felt that it was too pricey. If I was going to spend all this money, why not go to some other place, like Paris? I told myself that I was going, and then made a goal to go before April. I told my mom and my sister (who I sincerely wish could have seen it with me), and then I just started saving money.
Probably the other thing that inspired me to go to Paris was when I was planning to go to London roughly two years ago. When I asked the travel advisers about London and Paris, they placed London in their top five but said that Paris was okay, but it smelled, that it was more expensive to get in and that it was dirty. I decided to go with London, and I had a great time there. But I had always wondered whether or not Paris was better. So, maybe it was just a supreme urge to investigate everything people said about the city, along with making my own conclusion about it.
DAY ONE
When I left on thursday around noon, a woman had called me for a job interview.
"I’m sorry, I’m actually going out of town." I didn’t expect her to call the day after I had sent my resume.
"Well," she started, "This relates to your career. It’s either a day out of town or this opportunity." She was mostly joking, so it really wasn’t serious as it sounded.
"I’m actually going out of the country," I said. After I told her this, I apologized for the circumstances and scheduled the interview on Monday. (She would later cancel it, though).
I said gave my sister a kiss goodbye and took my bags to my Mom’s car. She told me to have fun and said to buy her a shirt. My mom drove me to the airport and after checking in, I got some food near the security gate. It was about an hour and a half before boarding time, so I kept looking back and forth and was rushing to eat my food. My mom told me not to worry and that I would be there on time. The line was crowded and I will never get used to the process.
As soon as it was over, I waved several exuberant goodbyes to my mom and then put my jacket back on. I was still excited, but a little anxious, beginning to realize it was all happening now, for real. The wait at the terminal was about an hour and I sat next to a flight attendant, who would actually be on my flight back home. She pulled down the window shade and slept. This part of riding the planes seemed to be the shortest or least memorable. When I got to Newark, I exchanged some money for Euros and noticed how colorful and crisp they were. I waited at a gate that had virtually no seats. I would later think if this is a pattern, indicating some sort of weird French-American relations. When I got on, I did get a window seat and sat next to an American woman, but we didn’t talk much. I watched "Shakespeare in Love" and slept for the most part.
DAY TWO
When I got to Charles de Galle, I had to go through customs, which, compared to the American one, is a joke. I asked the guy if he could stamp my passport. After I picked up my luggage, I greeted an attendant at the desk and asked her where the bathroom was. I said, "merci beaucoup" and she smiled, so I was happy I said it correctly. The next minutes were frustrating. I had to call my mom and let her know I was here, so I wandered around looking for a phone. I ran into an American woman who explained that I could use a telecarte. She offered to sell me hers for about seven Euros, but I passed. Anyway, I found a little store and got a prepaid card from the guy (who spoke some English) and he explained I could use it to call. At this point, I remember asking him in French if he had it, (Avez-vous un telecarte?) but my French was so bad and he asked if I spoke English. I called my mom several times, but there wasn’t an anwser. It was around 2 a.m., so she was more than likely still sleeping. I gave up and decided to call Lexi to let him know I was here. I had forgot to write down his number.
On the RER, heading to Paris.
Nearly freaking out, I looked for a place where I could use the internet. I finally found one and asked a really cute Desi guy for a pen ("Avez vous un STY-lO? STI-lo?") but the stupid machine didn’t work. I wasted about two Euros (if it charged me) and I went about the terminal, bypassing the diverse mix of Parisians and folks with all kinds of accents, looking for an internet station. I could find one after asking so many people, so I decided to try to call my Mom again and ask for his number (I gave it to her the night before). Still no answer. I had to get on the RER, so I just left and desperately hoped Lexi wouldn’t be waiting. I felt so bad, but I didn’t know what else to do.
"Bonjour madame. Parlez-vous anglais?"
"Oui, un peu."
"Does this train go to Gare du Nord."
"Uh ... yes."
On the RER, I looked out at the outskirts (sp? bainuelles) of Paris. There was so much graffiti, which gave any American counterpart a run for its money. But I loved it all. The train was getting more crowded as I got to Gare du Nord. When I got off there, I bought a carnet and took the 4 line to Monteparsse-Bienvenue, which would take me to the Passy stop, right around where Lexi and I would be staying. When I got on the green line to Passy, I saw my first views of Paris. It was cloudy and the buildings reminded me of those in London. Old, but still decorated with lost of modern adornments and fully utilized. The Metro went over the Seine and I saw the Eiffel Tower. It was brown---I know a lot of people say it’s brown, but I sort of expected it to be like a metallic brown. I snapped some shots and looked around.
I got off at Passy. I walked up an escalator and I realized I didn’t have the directions on how to get to the apartment. Whoops. So I asked people walking along the street, "Parlez-vous anglais" and "Monseiur/madame, je cherchez rue Charles Dickens" not sure if I was butchering this beautiful language or not. I found an elder Parisian man, who was riding a bike. I asked him where it was and he started explaining in French. He could tell I couldn’t understand, so he attempted to speak English. After asking several passerbys and going to a Pharmacie, we found a map and he told me to look for 9 and take a right. I thanked him generously. He asked if I was from Virginia.
I was still lost. About 30 minutes had passed and I was getting nowhere. After asking more strangers and several Parisian women sitting at a cafe and smoking (who looked to be the epitome of everything Americans think of French women) they told me to go inside. Another lady told me to take un droit after I passed by Passy and the Metro. Nope, this didn’t work. I had to stop two gentleman in the street.
"Bonjour ... parlez-vous anglais? Je suis de le Etas Unis ... I’m sorry ... Je suis desole ..."
After several confusing seconds of trying to articulate what I was trying to say (which had caught the eye of another Parisian man who literally stopped, turned around and listen to my bad French, they asked if I was looking for the Musee du Vin, which I didn’t know was nearby. I told them rue and square Charles Dickens and they told me to follow them and pointed to where I had to go. Take un droit, then a left. I finally found the street, looking for the apartment number. Lexi saw me and shouted out of the window, "Keith!!"
I was so happy to see him, so much so. I had felt absolutely terrible for being late and not calling. He asked how my trip was and said that he was waiting by the window watching for me. I explained what happened and decided to take a shower. After that we both got ready to go sight-seeing.
Lexi and the Eiffel Tower.
The first thing we saw was the Palais directly in front of the Eiffel Tower’s view. We were being courted by men who wanted to sell us little Eiffel Towers and this would only be the first of many times we had to deal with beggars and people trying to sell something. After I took a photo of Lexi, my camera’s batteries died. I was freaking out a little bit, but Lexi told me not to worry and that I could get some batteries at the gift shop. (I shouldn’t have worried at all because the Eiffel Tower had plenty of shops with batteries). We eventually walked over to the tower, which was crowded beyond belief. We stood in lne for several hours, with herds of people from either Spain, Germany, America, the UK or elsewhere. Lexi and I caught up on each others lives and we nearly froze, as the wind was so piercing.
We got to the second level and we looked around the city, pointing out various things that we could see. I saw La Defense way in the back, along with the Palais and other parts of the city. IT WAS SO COLD. Lexi and I were both freezing, but we took more pictures (I had bought batteries for six Euros) and went up to the top level. Even more crowded, even more cold. The wind could nearly knock you over, but the view was so fantastic. Lexi and I took even more photos and we took an elevator to the second level and walked back down, which was about 10 minutes. We took more photos of the tower’s interior and a monument of a painting job over the history of the tower’s existence.
After this, we went to a cafe. It was raining off and on. I noticed how all of the streets had the smell of a perfume of some sort. We found a place and after we sat down, we were both befuddled as to what everything meant. I recognized some stuff on the menu, the easy stuff like fromage and salade, but I literally had no idea what I ordered, other than the wine, which was delicious. Lexi didn’t know what he ordered either. I ended up getting this wonderful tourte (sp?) which came with cabbage. Lexi got a seafood salad, I think. I was so, so good. The food in Paris was just amazing. We finished our wine and left, heading for the Louvre.
Before that, we went to a crepe stand. I got the abricot flavor and so did Lexi and it was tasty. It started to rain again as we were walking to the Louvre. This place was crowded and in line, when we were getting tickets, it sounded like the girls behind us were American. (I didn’t realize some would be here because of spring break). Lexi and I went about the Louvre, looking at all the large Baroque painting I had seen in art classes, noticing how LARGE they really were. We eventually found the Mona Lisa, surrounded by a rope with hundred of people and encased in bulletproof glass. We both took photos of it, although Lexi speculated that it could have been a fake. She was smaller in person than I thought. After we saw her, we looked around for the Venus de Milo. We were able to get a lot closer to her, which meant more up-close (and humorous) shots). We saw the Winged Victory (thank you Bob) and then left a little bit later.
The next major site was the Notre Dame. (But before that, I bought a lovely scarf, the multi-colored kind so common here. Lexi showed me how to tie it.) The Notre Dame was crowded too, but not as much. The was a mass going on inside and it kind of reminded me of St. Paul’s (or St. Peter’s) Cathedral in New York, where there were shops everywhere. The architecture was so divine and I had a bit of a wish that I could be Catholic for five seconds, just to experience a service. Lexi and I left and walked along the Seine, which was illuminated by the setting sun. It was so beautiful, in every way. I stopped at another gift shop and afterward Lexi and I walked past the Musee du (de la?) Madame Pompidou. I really liked how it stuck out, with it’s white pipes and everything. You can notice it several miles away. After a brief stop, we took a train (I think) to get off at the Champs-Elysees boulevard. By this time it was night, and Paris looked even more beautiful than it had during the day. The Arc du Triomphe stood out prominently and we saw the crowd, along with all the high fashion shops and stores. I think this was like the Oxford Street or Fifth Avenue of Paris. We later walked to an aisle in the street where we took photos, trying to stand on a platform and falling in the process. The were people doing the same thing. I loved the night the excitement of pulse of the city, and how I was just like every other foreigner without any care in the world. Later we walked to the Arc itself and spotted La Defense directly ahead but distant. Le Arche Grande (sp?) stood out.
By this time, it was time for dinner and clubbing. We changed clothes and Lexi and I headed for Le Marais, which is the gay/Jewish area of Paris. We looked around for a restaurant and found one, which wasn’t very crowded. Our waiter, Fabrice, had the most adorable accent and greeted us. And by golly, he was cute. I think probably one of the things I absolutely loved about Paris is how greetings are so customary. We ordered wine (of course) and I think I had a wrap of some sort, but I can’t remember what it was called. (Lexi, I don’t remember what you ordered.) After taking a photo of the waiter (yes, I believe the wine was kicking in), I told him that his english was great and he said he had studied abroad at Harvard for a year. Go figure! We left and after this went to the Raidd bar.
Fabrice, our adorable waiter.
Gosh, this place was crowded. And the drinks were so expensive. There were shower boys that caught Lexi’s eye and we walked around, eyeing the club itself. After ordering some drinks, we walked around and looked for some other places. We went to one place, but were only there for like 10 minutes, it was kind of dead. We found another place, but it wasn’t as exciting. A woman kept playing with Lexi’s necklace and my scarf. I couldn’t tell if our "girlfriend" was drunk or really interested, but we later left.
The night ended at a club in some part of Paris I can’t remember. I think it’s fitting to note that when we were trying to find it, I was very drunk and while we were walking to the Metro, I jumped and fell down some steps. "Je suis bien! I’m okay!" I yelled, while Lexi and everyone laughed. The club was apparently a straight club. Most of the music was this techno-stuff I didn’t recognize and it was okay. I noticed several people doing a "Tectronic" dance (David, thank you for explaining what it was), which I guess is the equivalency of what "Soldier Boy" is here. We left about an hour later, only to get lost and spend another hour looking for a bus. My feet were killing me and we were both so tired.
DAY THREE
I asked Lexi to set his alarm from the phone at 9:00. I had meant to call Virginia that day, but I lost track of time. I sent her a text message with Lexi’s phone and I was worried because I didn’t know if it was a landline or not (it wasn’t and again, Lexi was right. I should not worry so much). Virginia responded!! She was awake and she asked where we could meet up. I mentioned that Lexi suggested Le Sacre Couer, so we decided to meet there in roughly an hour. On the way to the train, there were some people singing and clapping to a variety of songs, which would happen plenty of times while on the Metro during the trip. While everyone mostly ignored them, I listened and looked, as it gave me another idea of how distinct Paris is.
We walked through Montmarte after getting of at the Anvers stop. Lots and lots of markets, street stores and foreigners. There were plenty of people doing card and game tricks, as well. I saw the white church way in the front and I was kind of taken back. The weather was gorgeous----not to hot or too cold at all. Lexi and I walked up the steps and were solicited by some people selling arm bands. One of them grabbed my arm. We walked up some more steps and took some shots of the view, which was just really, really spectacular. I think this might have been one of my favorite stops, mostly because this part seemed a bit isolated, but at the same time flooded with activity from foreigners. I felt like one of them and that I was just another visitor, not any kind of American who stood out at all. Time was of no importance. We walked inside and I think I was more impressed by the architecture here than by the Notre Dame. There was a mass going on while we walked around.
After a little while, Virginia and David had arrived at the Anvers stop. Lexi and I looked around and didn’t see them at first. Soon we walked behind the entrance and I spotted them with the corner of my eye. I saw them both talking to each other and ran up to them. I couldn’t believe this was happening, it just felt like a dream. I gave Virginia the most massive hug I could, and gave David an equally massive hug too. I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE THEM, SO MUCH. I introduced them to Lexi and Virginia told me she lost her voice the day before. David explained that it happens every year for no apparent reason. Still, I was excited that we were able to meet up and we walked back to the Sacre Coeur. I caught up with Virginia and David, walking up the steps in the sunshine. I caught up with them, after walking inside again and circling the sanctuary. Virginia told me about her job and how her French had improved and David was talking about his plans afterward, along with a bunch of other stuff. I didn’t know he was leaving so soon. David and Lexi spoke in German, to each other at several points.
Lexi, David and Virginia at Le Sacre Coeur.
We walked to the Moulin Rouge, where Virginia shared more and more secrets about Paris and France in general, like how they love McDonalds and how life was like outside of Paris in other places. We passed by a cafe and I bougt a raspberry tartelette (sp) and it was probably the most delicious dessert I had tasted in several years. So, so delicious. After licking my fingers, we finally found the Moulin Rouge and took some photos. Apparently it had turned into an aquarium?
We decided to go to La Defense, the business district of Paris, for the most part. I just really wanted to see the architecture and skyscrapers. We saw the Grande Arch, which was literally quite grand (the Notre Dame can fit inside). We passed by this and saw a gigantic thumb in the middle of a square. We took photos of it and we laughed at the irony of it. We walked around a little bit and headed to the Catacombs, which Virginia really wanted to see. But they were closed until April 10th! Merde! After that disappointing discovery, we all decided to get lunch. We went to a little brassiere (sp) not too far away and ate there.
Virginia told us more about the French, such as ordering water for free (un carafe d’eau), not to leave tips unless the service is absolutely exceptional, and the items on the menu. At this point, I had to call my mom to let her know I was okay. I had promised before that I would call her yesterday, but I lost track of time. I told her everything, which was not enough. She was so happy to hear from me and was glad I was having a good time. I told her about all the sites we saw yesterday and how I was with my friends, which made me really happy. After about 20 minutes, I went back to the cafe and I ate my sandwich, while we all talked about our lives and what other things that just happened to come up. The waiter seemed busy. We paid for the food and left, not really knowing what else to see. I think Lexi suggested some shopping stores, so we headed to the nearest H&M.
This store was crowded, perhaps more so than the American ones I had been too. Oddly enough, I didn’t see anything I wanted! We walked around and later went to the Galerie Lafayette, which I think is a high-end store. Most of the stuff was over 30 Euros, so I didn’t really want to buy anything here. Later, Virginia said she wanted to go to the Monoprix, so we went there. I noticed how there was a huge selection of cheeses and yogurts, which David pointed out was almost rare in Germany. There was even more wine, which was so ridiculously cheap. I noticed that the carts had handles you could drag around. What also stuck out were the chips, which had different flavors for the same brands (Lays had Bolognse (sp) and Pringles, some other flavors I can’t remember). This store, according to Virginia, was like the Wal-Mart of Paris (or perhaps France?).
Sadly, Virginia and David and Lexi and I decided to split up. We walked to the Metro and we said our goodbyes, as I hugged them both. I wished I had seen more of them or even visited them at their hotel, but the time I spent with them was so precious in itself. Even better, they met Lexi! So, when we walked away, Lexi and I went back to the apartment to freshen up. Prior to that, we passed by the Liberty Statue (which has a replica of the Statue of Liberty’s torch) and the scene where Princess Diana was killed, with its wall of graffiti. We walked along the Seine, which was just so gorgeous in the sunset. (We also saw all the peddlers running together, away from the police and hiding their goods).
I had fallen asleep for about two hours when Lexi woke me up. It was around 8 or 9, I think and he was already ready. I had to change clothes, so I did and we decided to get dinner in La Marais again. We passed b the place where Fabrice worked, but we went to another place not too far away. There were people outside eating and the whole area was really crowded. We went in and sat near the window. I was unaware there was a TV overhead with a critical game the French were playing. I ordered panache du fromage, which is really just toasted bread and cheese. It was not what I expected but I was hardly disappointed Lexi ordered a tasty chicken salad and this time we both drank white wine. (I’m fairly certain after this, I have a newfound appreciation for wine). I also ordered pomme frites, which Lexi told me was how it was pronounced in German. We left soon and when we were walking to the Metro, a woman mistook me for a Parisian.
"Pardonnez-moi, ____________ a le Metro?" (I cannot remember what she said)
"Je ne parle pas francais."
"Oh, ok."
"Je suis de l’Etas Unis."
"It’s ok. I will know to have Metro directions next time."
A little while later, we went back to the Raidd Bar, the first time throughout the night. We ordered some drinks again, but this time I got a beer. (The day before we had tequila shots, which explains why I jumped from a platform). We found another room we didn’t see yesterday, but we left for another club. The club this time (I can’t remember the name) was actually a gay one this time. The men were so pretty and I danced and danced. It was hot and Lexi had dropped his camera, so we spent several minutes trying to figure out how to fix it. We couldn’t so we just went back dancing, took a break and a little while later went upstairs. The music was better up there, not most of the techno-stuff down below. I was having a blast, but Lexi was tired. We decided to leave and go back to the Raidd bar. At this time, it was around 4:30 and we stayed there until about five in the morning. Actually, it was now six in the morning because the time had switched over; Europe’s daylight savings time had gone into effect today. When we got home, it was around 6:30, so I immediately had to pack and change clothes. I gathered everything and said bye to Lexi, who I kissed and hugged. If it had not been for him, this trip would have been hollow and boring. I wished him a safe trip back to London and made it to Passy.
When I got on, I had planned to go to Gare du Nord and then take the RER to Charles de Gaulle. There was a fatal accident, which I didn’t know at the time. I had to get off and I asked a Frenchman what happened, but I couldn’t understand a word he said. Eventually I just shouted "does anyone speak English?" and an American couple said they did, but they didn’t know what was going on either.They needed to get to a train station as well. I walked around and asked some Spanish gentle if esta linea esta cerra and they said it was closed indeed. Crap. I asked the American woman, who I saw thank goodness, and she told me that I could get on the line she was getting on and take the RER to the airport. I did and when I got on the RER, I asked a wonderful gentleman about how to get to Charles du Gaulle. I had to get off and get on a connecting train, which went to the airport. He was so gracious in showing me how to get there. A parisian woman asked me if this was the stop for Charles de Galle and understanding what she said, I muttered, "Oui, ce la stop a Charles de Gaulle." An American family arrived several minutes later, asking the same thing. They had been visiting their daugther abroad.
"So are you an American?"
"Yes."
"Oh wow. What part are you from?"
"Kentucky. How about you?"
"California."
I had got off at the wrong terminal stop. I was supposed to get off at the second one, but I was in a rush and thought that 1-3 would be quicker. I had actually went out of my way and finally made it to terminal 2-A, noticing the line for Continental. It was exactly 9 a.m. and my flight was to leave at 9:55. Frantic, I asked the people in line what I should do. I went and showed them my e-ticket, but they said I couldn’t get on. I had to board an hour before the flight, so I was ten minutes late. I literally started shaking and my mouth dropped.
"What do you mean I can’t get on?! Is ... is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, you have to go to the ticket counter and get your boarding pass."
"Do I have to pay anything for that?" I asked.
I did that, but woman told me I only needed my ticket. When I tried running to get my bag and presenting it again, they said there was nothing I could do but switch tickets. My heart was beating out of my chest at this point. I couldn’t believe I had missed my flight and didn’t know what I was going to do. I went back to the service desk and asked to be reserved for the next flight at 11:30. She fixed it and this confusing process was over. When I presented my passport, the female attendants asked if I had to pay anything and they smiled when I shook my head. (I know nothing about airports, apparently.)
Charles de Gaulle was a bit confusing. I checked in and got my boarding passes and later went through security. I waited for my flight, which was delayed. I called my mom again to let her know I was leaving and she told me to be careful. I bought some French snacks (candy, Oragina-something and some chips), and waited for about an hour. I mostly slept. I sat next to an American high school girl named Arden was talking about her trip (a spring break trip) and how she was ready for college and finishing her senior year. She reminded me so much of myself when I was her age and I was so excited for her, as we exchanged some stories about our times in Paris. We got to Newark and I’ll just say that customs was pretty much a joke and that the people were rude as I don’t know what (I blame it on the fact that it’s in New Jersey). I don’t think I will ever like Newark again. But anyway, I called my mom again and told her I was on my way. I have to wait nearly four hours for my flight because there was a delay. I hate this flight, I’m not going to lie. The gentleman who sat next to me wore too much cologne and blocked my view of the window. I was tired and I was ready to leave. When we got to Newark, my mom greeted me with a hug and asked how my flight was. I said it was ok, actually meaning it was crappy. I had my bag of souvenirs and walked to baggage claim with her. I noticed VHS or BETA was there too, apparently arriving from Europe. I was too nervous to introduce myself and ask for an autograph, but they looked tired (plus I had helped give one of the band members his bag on the plane, so I didn’t want to act like a desperate fan). We home after that.
I still can’t believe this happened. This will probably be one of the most memorable times of my life and I owe it all to Lexi, Virginia and David, who made the trip so excellent for me in every way. I don’t know why I decided to go to Paris this time, after I had swore I wouldn’t go back unless with someone. Maybe it was a dream I had, or the poster in my room of an Eiffel Bar. Maybe it was just my usual need to get away every six months. Whatever it was, it was all too precious.
So, there’s several myths I want to point out. These are American ones I guess:
The French are really rude. I can’t speak for France, obviously, but the Parisians were hardly rude to me at all. Like I wrote above, all of them were courteous and helpful in trying to help me find places. Of course, there is that big city mentality and it reminds me of New York and London. But no, the Parisians were not rude to me at all, not in any flagrant way people seem to suggest. I think it’s also very, very important to note that a little French goes a long, long, long way. Just a simple "bonjour madame/monsieur" and "merci" is typical wherever you go, if not expected.
Paris is dirty and smells. There is literally dog crap on the ground, I’m not going to lie. And some parts of the Metro smelled like urine. But a lot of the places I passed by smelled like perfume and food, or both. I was honestly indifferent to the bad smells and because I thought that’s what made Paris, Paris. And the city, in my opinion is just beautiful. The only thing really dirty was again, just the ground, which had crap and lots of old gum, but this wasn’t the case everywhere.
Paris is expensive. Not really. London is way more expensive for Americans, but the Euro is somewhat closer to the American dollar and the prices aren’t too bad, comparatively.
London vs. Paris. I was debating this over the plane ride and I’m going to have to say I liked Paris better than London, by a slight edge. They’re kind of both similar in that big city feel, but not really. Again, most of the reason I enjoyed it is because I was with friends, but I just love how much pride I saw, from everyone only speaking French and turning their heads whenever I spoke in English, to the chants they sung about their soccer wins, so literally every other sign that didn’t have anything in English. France may be isolated because of this, but I think it’s what makes the city wonderful. And it’s a little smaller and the Metro seems easier to use. I loved the way the city just seemed to hug me with its warmth and elegance. It’s definitely not overrated in any way.
Lexi:
I had already told you before, but thank you so much for being with me there, considering how incredibly short the notice was. I had such an unbelievably amazing time and spending it with you will be one of the biggest highlights of my life. I loved how we saw everything and went to the clubs and that you got to meet Virginia and David. I cannot thank you enough for handling everything and just your presence because this trip would not have been fun at all, if not for you. I hope, hope, hope we get to do this again another time! And I hope your camera gets fixed really soon!
Virginia and David:
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Again, not very many words to describe how happy I was when I saw you both. It still didn’t hit me that I was actually in Paris, seeing you both just standing there at the stop. I’m was giddy for the most part and glad we got to catch up with each other. I’m not sure how difficult it was to adjust or synchronize your schedules respectively, but it worked out! And, without question, it was the biggest highlight of the trip, seeing you both. I will see you when you come back and we can share our stories over massive amounts of wine!
Until another adventure, au revior!