Day one: Paris

I jet-setted to Europe with two journals in which I was assigned to log my daily life, my experiences, my impressions, and my sense of how the culture of this continent works/differs from my beloved Land of the Free. Still, during my very first Parisian shower (which certainly made me miss my not-so-humble-after-all Queens dorm room) I realized two hand written journals is not enough. I have quite a handful of people (I assume you're one if you're reading this!) who want updates every day. What better way in the age of technology than a bloody blog!

So here I am. Still wringing the french water from my hair, letting everyone know that 1. I am alive and well, 2. I am already having a wonderful time, and perhaps, most importantly 3. that even in the hustle and bustle and excitement of being in a fresh new land with a fresh passport, there's no place like America.

Having named three topics I want to discuss, I want to be sure to avoid structuring this like a 5 paragraph essay. That's not what anyone wants to read. Let me veer away from my lengthy introduction and get down to business...

HOLY SHIT. I never felt more out of place in my life. And even though I can feel the stares penetrating my suspicious Americanized grip on my bag, it's kind of fun. I've always been the one rolling my eyes at the idiot on the train who can't decipher an E from an F, or who want to marvel at the Statue of Liberty or Empire State Building.

Now, I look at the Eiffel tower just 'meters' from my campus and think to myself... DAMN. That thing is big and sparkly and I'm standing in front of it. I imagine it's somewhat like crossing over into Nirvana.

French. The language that is... Spanish, I can understand. Italian, I can figure out. FRENCH is other worldly. Already though, just simply in the bus ride from the airport to the campus, I learned so many words. Perhaps the most important: Soldes translates to SALE. gimme gimme gimme.

A baguette is a baguette is a baguette. UNLESS OF COURSE you get one here. As a connoisseur of thinly sliced Boar's Head ham, I was greatly impressed by my first European sandwich. Delicious leanham that was probably carved from a pig bathing in a puddle of gold on an entire baguette with shredded cheese and BUTTER. You understand correctly; swap that nasty stinky mayo I always have to request to be withheld with BUTTER and I found myself a god of ham sandwiches. (Don't worry Krystal, I'll cut back in time to look cute for the wedding.)

Speaking of God, the churches... well. Since I haven't been in them, I'll just save that for when I can do justice to a description.

But, in the spirit of the blood of Christ, 24 cl. of red wine is going to be sweating from my pores on the hike up that Eiffel Tower in the very near future.

Yeah, it's all very exciting. But I really love the hateful glares. I know they wanna be American like me.

Oh, and the flight sucked. I don't think any details of 8 hour agita need to waste any portion of the ether.