I. am. so. glad. I. flew. in. early. The countdown is on for my birthday on June 8. My original plan was to hop off the plan on Sunday, rest up Sunday night and wake up Monday: ready. I don't even remember Monday. I really don't know how Wednesday got here. Now, I know what that saying means about people making plans and God rotfl. It's amazing that I wrote anything yesterday. I'm so glad that my friend is here, because I probably would've slept through Tuesday. Like I wrote yesterday, I did manage to get up meet our tour guide and stumble around Paris in the wrong shoes for walking and the wrong socks for the shoes that were all wrong for walking. But today, I'm starting to feel more like myself. For real for real. Note to self that it takes me three days to get over jet lag.
I don't know if it's the jet lag or the complete undoing of everything I was holding together to get through the semester: sleep deprived weeks, 12-hour work days, and relentless grinding. Then, there's the never-ending saga of having an uber sensitive tummy which leads to the parallel saga of getting enough calories/nutrients/beefing up for a big trip and the subtext saga of just getting over a bad allergy flare up resisting flare down. I thought sleeping on the plane would be enough to counter balance alllll of that because flying through the clouds to Paris was going to fix everything. My plan was to sleep on the plane, get to Paris, have a healthy lunch...pop a vitamin, a zyrtec, stay awake to shift time zones; go to bed early; wake up and viola!
But who can sleep on an AirFrance flight with all these amazing French films at your fingertips...and the opportunities to have tea from the flight attendants dressed in the colors of Paris. The little tea spoons were so. cute.
So what I was supposed to be writing about today was my trip to the Eiffel tower and some other touristy stops on the hop-on hop-off bus tour pass that I bought. I was going to get up early this morning, go to the little cafe on the corner and have a cute French breakfast. I reached for my phone at what I thought was 8...9 a.m. It was 11:47. I'd missed 9:30 and 10 a.m. messages from my travel buddy asking if I was already at the Eiffel tower, if I was okay. After checking my phone, I went straight to open the curtains to make sure it was really daytime, to make sure my phone wasn't in another time zone or something. It was daytime. It was a dreary, cloudy day in Paris. With the curtains to my hotel room drawn, my quaint French double became a perfect oasis for sleep-deprived souls.
With some prying, I hopped on the metro and met Alicia and Cleo in front of the Notre Dame. We walked the Latin Quarter and had lunch at Les Patios. I loved the vegan plate. Of course, we had our French wine cap out on the patio with all of the other Parisians. Our server Marta was a kind African woman who patiently allowed us to practice our French, even though she spoke perfect English. Thank you, Marta! I'm having a lot of fun trying to teach myself French even though I am butchering these vowel sounds, I know.
After lunch, we were on a mission to find my Big Bus tour, but it started raining. So, we stopped and had tea instead. I did manage to find a nice bookstore and bought a Basquiat hardcover all in French. I'm a little excited about it.
This is me at 39. In Paris, making plans...but sleeping, drinking wine, visiting bookstores and having tea. Yes, I could do all these things at home. So what.
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| A more awake me today in front of Seine River. |
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| The sleepy me yesterday (pic I was too tired to post): Alicia, Me & Cleo |
I don't know if it's the jet lag or the complete undoing of everything I was holding together to get through the semester: sleep deprived weeks, 12-hour work days, and relentless grinding. Then, there's the never-ending saga of having an uber sensitive tummy which leads to the parallel saga of getting enough calories/nutrients/beefing up for a big trip and the subtext saga of just getting over a bad allergy flare up resisting flare down. I thought sleeping on the plane would be enough to counter balance alllll of that because flying through the clouds to Paris was going to fix everything. My plan was to sleep on the plane, get to Paris, have a healthy lunch...pop a vitamin, a zyrtec, stay awake to shift time zones; go to bed early; wake up and viola!
But who can sleep on an AirFrance flight with all these amazing French films at your fingertips...and the opportunities to have tea from the flight attendants dressed in the colors of Paris. The little tea spoons were so. cute.
~
So what I was supposed to be writing about today was my trip to the Eiffel tower and some other touristy stops on the hop-on hop-off bus tour pass that I bought. I was going to get up early this morning, go to the little cafe on the corner and have a cute French breakfast. I reached for my phone at what I thought was 8...9 a.m. It was 11:47. I'd missed 9:30 and 10 a.m. messages from my travel buddy asking if I was already at the Eiffel tower, if I was okay. After checking my phone, I went straight to open the curtains to make sure it was really daytime, to make sure my phone wasn't in another time zone or something. It was daytime. It was a dreary, cloudy day in Paris. With the curtains to my hotel room drawn, my quaint French double became a perfect oasis for sleep-deprived souls.
With some prying, I hopped on the metro and met Alicia and Cleo in front of the Notre Dame. We walked the Latin Quarter and had lunch at Les Patios. I loved the vegan plate. Of course, we had our French wine cap out on the patio with all of the other Parisians. Our server Marta was a kind African woman who patiently allowed us to practice our French, even though she spoke perfect English. Thank you, Marta! I'm having a lot of fun trying to teach myself French even though I am butchering these vowel sounds, I know.
 |
| Roughing it through French One Cuppa Tea at a Time |
After lunch, we were on a mission to find my Big Bus tour, but it started raining. So, we stopped and had tea instead. I did manage to find a nice bookstore and bought a Basquiat hardcover all in French. I'm a little excited about it.
 |
| Basquiat Find |
This is me at 39. In Paris, making plans...but sleeping, drinking wine, visiting bookstores and having tea. Yes, I could do all these things at home. So what.
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