Je ne parle pas francais (Summer in France, Part 1)

One of the few french phrases I have learned since I entered the country one month ago.  It is terrible. I know.  A unilingual American cliche.  Alas, I forgive myself as I practice my bonjour madame/monsieur.  If I can say this simple phrase with the right inflection, they know I’m trying.

After a spring of travelling through the SW with Mike and Louis, I spent a substantial amount of time cuddling my niece before a NW road trip with my mom.  The travelling continued as I boarded a plane at the end of June for a summer in France with Mike.

How romantic….your boyfriend asks you to spend the summer in France with him; he’ll meet you in Paris for a few days before you head to your home for the summer in the Alps.  Yes, I remind myself, this is my life.

After many hours of plane time and no sleeping due to my excitement, I freshened up before I got off the plane so I could see my boyfriend who has already been in France for 6 weeks.  All of the freshening goes down the tubes as I arrive in Paris during an abnormal heat wave carrying two 50 lb. duffels (because rolling suitcases are for…..smart people) a 40 lb. backpack and an overstuffed computer case.  I have to lug these to and onto 3 different subways.  By the time I’ve arrived at our meeting place (in the depths of a disgusting subway tunnel) I am disgusting.  I manage to change my shirt in the crowd and sit down on my bags and wait.  30 minutes later I ask a nice young woman “excuse-moi s’il vous plait, parle vous anglais?  Can I use your cell phone?”  After graciously letting me use her phone (just as Mike’s dad said a nice French person would)  I find that Mike has tried to suprise me at the airport and is there waiting for me.

After we have our reunion in (later to be determined the most disgusting of all) subway tunnels, we attempt to find our hotel.  A few more subway rides and about a mile of walking later we arrive at the mamashelter.

chewbacca hipster light on our wall

In true European fashion it is a small room, but has some very interesting decor matched with a flat screen apple t.v. adorning the wall and lovely AC coming out of the vents.  It suits us immediately.   As soon as they let us in I nap before we jet into downtown, yet again on the subway, for some delicious lebanese food and some walking around.  The next day involved more walking around, accidentally seeing the tour eiffel, and accidentally finding the louvre on the one day it is closed but happily dunking our feet in the water outside.

tour eiffel

louvre glass pyramid

All in all, I was glad we went to Paris after two full days of walking around and searching out good food, but Mike and I were ready to leave.  We are not city people.  We don’t pretend to be for more than 48 hours generally.  So we boarded the train a day early, rode through the french countryside for nearly 6 hours, lugged all of the luggage up the hill from the train station, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing our backyard and that Mike had red wine stocked in the cupboard.