Day 1 - August 16

Bonjour!

I am in Paris but back at CDG airport on my way to Vienna. I have really spent the last two days travelling, getting lost, feeling sore, and crying my eyes out. But, on the other hand, I met a cute little French boy on the plane over who taught me how to ask, "do you speak English?" in French. My accent is so bad I'm surprised they had any idea what language I was speaking.

While the French have not lived up to their notoriously rude reputation, a surprising number of them don't speak English at all. Not that they should, but before I left I was comforted over and over again by friends saying I would easily get by without any French. SO not the case. By the time I got to the storage facility where I left my ridiculously heavy luggage, I had a couple of hours to fill before my flight to Austria. So I wandered around Paris. I sat in an adorable outside cafe with my French coffee and croissant. I just sat and watched the people while sitting near various Frenchmen doing the same while also smoking like chimneys. I then wandered around some more with a very bad map at hand. That's when I was so surprised when I ran straight into the Eiffel Tower!

So of course I took a million pictures and was finally aware I was travelling Europe and totally free! I could do whatever I wanted. So instead of standing in line all day at the Louvre like most tourists and family vacations, I sat outside in the sun, taking photos and looking around me until I felt it was time to go. As I walked back I looked through some cute shops, admired a church and it's beautiful garden - both of which I've never heard of. That's when it started to pour, with no warning and with me completely lost in the middle of Paris. I was out there for two hours.

There was nowhere to sit and look at a map besides a cafe, where I sat and sulked in confusion while paying 7 euros for an uneaten crepe and cold coffee. When I finally swallowed my pride and tried calling the storage place, the stupid number wouldn't go through! Though they had given me the country code, I had no idea how to call Europe from another European phone. After literally 10 attempts I had to call the states and have a friend Google how to call Paris from a London cell. Oh, and this was after 2 cab attempts, where both drivers spoke no English and had to talk to my friend on my cell in French and then decided - no, refused - they couldn't' take me to the address that ended up being a 5 minute walk away after all. At the end of this delightful episode I was so sore in my legs plus got a bruise on my shin days after dropping the stupid suitcase I had to store on myself. Not the best start to my trip of a lifetime.

But, I did get a marriage proposal. A handsome young Italian named Lorenzo stopped to tell me I was beautiful and kissed my hand. He asked me out to dinner but I showed him my fake wedding ring as an excuse to politely walk away. Without blinking he said if I ever were to get divorced to call him as he would marry me right away.

So much for Paris. But Italian men are smooth....