My first "day" in Paris passed quickly. The rapidity of which it seemed to pass was most likely aided by my status as a zombie. Though I assume I got a few hours of sleep on the plane, by the time I had landed I had been awake almost 24 hours. However, for a person that has trouble functioning on less than 7 or 8 hours, I think I held up pretty well during my first day.
I "surprised" Morgane at the airport--she was reading a book, not expecting me to pass through customs, etc so quickly. The ease with which I was able to exit my plane and make it through customs made me feel like George Costanza on his fabled trip to the airport, "I was seeing moves 4 times ahead." Everything fell into place for me (and I never hit the Van Wyck!). I got the tram right before it left, my bag was the fifth off the plane, and unlike the U.S., France has no problems with my name.
After a long cab ride into the city (we are in the Marais, Bob I'll post some pictures), I got to open my birthday and Christmas presents. We went for a walk through the city and then had falafels with the rest of America. Evidently the best falafel place in Paris is right around the corner and has garnered mentions in all the American guidebooks, so I felt a little funny spending my first meal in Paris surrounded by Americans. The falafel was excellent. So it goes.
The temperatures here are not too much worse than they would be in Arkansas-30s to 40s (I'm still adjusting to that celsius thing).
One of my presents from Morgane was a scarf, so that's helping me stay warm. Much to Morgane's dismay, I've never owned a scarf before so I needed pointers on how exactly one comports oneself while in a scarf.
The sun finally seems to be coming out (it's hard to tell since th windows face a courtyard) which means it's time to face day two en France.
3 comments:
It's not George, it's Elaine. When she takes that guy to the airport with his brown sweater. This is your old roomie's favorite Seinfeld episode (PS- she's engaged as of the 19th). Ok... I'll keep reading your blog. Just had to make that one comment about your Costanza referrence. :)
Good so far!
I stand humbled: "I never knew I could drive like that. I was going faster than I've ever gone before, and yet, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. I was seeing three and four moves ahead, weaving in and out of lanes like an Olympic skier on a gold medal run. I knew I was challenging the very laws of physics. At Queens Boulevard, I took the shoulder. At Jewel Avenue, I used the median. I had it. I was there. And then, I hit the Van Wyck. They say no one's ever beaten the Van Wyck, but gentlemen, I tell you this... I came as close as anyone ever has. And if it hadn't been for that five-car pile-up on Rockaway Boulevard, that numbskull would be on a plane for Seattle right now instead of looking for a parking space downstairs."
I wanted a more romantic description of seeing Morgane for the first time at the airport. Please add something along the lines of "She was reading a book, one silky strand of creamy brown hair lightly touching her nose and then being brushed away unnoticed, unimportant compared to whatever was happening on the pages. I took her in my arms, my manly chest pressed against her warm breasts..."
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