Paris Part One

I just arrived in Germany again from Paris not 12 hours ago. Oh what stories I have to tell. I have determined it necessary to split this post into two parts for reasons that will become obvious. Just a warning, if you care to keep your romantic ideals of Paris as the city of lights, love, and shopping, then I suggest you read this post only, as Part 2 of the Parisian saga has much less sugar on it.

Ohh the joys of living in Europe! It was only a 8 hour road trip down to one of the most famous cities in the world for us; when I think about it, it takes me 8 hours to get to Denison from North Carolina...these lucky ducks over here. We had only an extended weekend in the city of lights, but I was able to see most of the sights. The most wonderful, amazing part of this trip was the fact that I actually saw all of those things that you hear about existing. I honestly never predicted that I would be running around that city, looking at the real Eiffel Tower, gazing deeply into Mona Lisa's eyes, and finding myself lost in a sea of Monet's lilies. It was magical!

My favorite part of the city, location wise, must have been Montmarte, a hilly part of Paris that used to be its own little village. The cobblestone roads that wind and curve around the contours of the land made me feel safe and secure as I looked out on the vista of Paris at night. There were plenty of places to eat, buy clothes, and simply be in Paris. This area had quite a few tourists, but I felt that it was here that Paris simply existed, versus other parts of the city where Paris jumped and screamed to make itself known (for example, Champs Elysees.)

I was also overjoyed to see the type of diversity that I am used to seeing in the United States. I don't exactly come from the most diverse part of the world, however, in my town in Germany, diversity means wearing black pants instead of jeans. Otherwise everyone looks and dresses just alike and is just fine with that. (Please reference the post about schools, where the German kids were completely flabbergasted that Parisian students had to attend school with immigrants.) There were all sorts of people in Paris! And everyone had interesting outfits, lots of fur, and REALLY cute bags. I also felt at home as I saw the colors red, white, and blue everywhere. The French fly their flag with pride all over the city. And, in my mind, they really do have something to be proud of!

Finally, the food. We actually didn't really have a chance to eat like Americans do on their vacas. I was expecting the typical three meals a day...but I forgot that Germans only eat like one real meal a day and then have bread for the rest of it. (By the way, all of the Germans brought their own water...like 4 liters or more!...and their own snacks for the entire 4 days) But when I did eat, it was so yummy! The mashed potatoes I had...just imagine the best you've ever had in the US, then add a cup of butter (eat your heart out, Paula Deen!). And, oh wow! Have you ever had an eclair?? Have you ever had one in Paris from an amazing bakery!?!? I was just in heaven eating that thing.

My favorite memory from the trip is my short time alone as I went from dinner to the Eiffel tower. I rode the metro and saw the cafes and shops lit from inside. Passing through the city, I watched the tower grow larger and larger, just as my anticipation did. I jumped off the metro and almost skipped to a crepe stand where I got chocolate and banana. All the way to the tower I was beaming almost as bright as the tower was, eating my dessert with eyes aglow in the lights of the city. Despite the hawkers that are almost as annoying as mosquitoes in a North Carolina summer, standing under the structure was like no other feeling I've ever had. Just to understand the height of the thing, the way it reaches towards the sky like a hopeful beacon. I could have stayed there all night.

I already miss the city. It is almost like I was never there. I took tons of pictures, so I will be sure to post those within a year or so. It was hard to be there without friends or family to walk with through the streets, but I forgot I was alone sometimes, as I stood under the watchful gaze of Van Gogh and next to Degas' ballerinas. Those Parisians sure do know how to have a good time.