France, the Land of Stereotypes

I'm here! I'm alive! Stop worrying!

So after a rocky beginning- our pilot trying to takeoff from the wrong runway and causing a near-collision at O'Hare- I'm in Paris. The commute was a relatively easy one, despite the portly fellow who took his seat next to me and the lion's share of mine as well. I made it to Paris at about 1:30p yesterday and the stereotypes began.

After getting out of the airport and changing some money, I found the train to the city pretty easily. I hopped on and we started a ride through a graffiti-tagged path and it wasn't 5 minutes before an accordion player was on the train, directly behind me, Frenching it up. That's right, an accordion player. Imagine riding through Paris on a train with accordion music playing in the background; it was a little ridiculous. I got a bit nervous when the train didn't stop for the first six or so stops and wondered if we were actually going to slow down at Saint Michael-Notre Dame enough for me to bail off. We did. I did get a mean look from a Parisian who wanted to sit where my 1,500 lb. bag had already taken up residence. I felt it fair, but she disagreed in an angry couple of sentences. I realized then how my dog always felt where you can't tell what the hell the person's saying but you're pretty sure it's nothing good.

I got off at Saint Michael and out of the wrong side of the station. The fountain Casey told "You can't miss" I missed. However, I asked someone on the street, she said a bunch of stuff in French and then finally pointed. I met up with Casey and Sean shortly thereafter.

Paris is old, cobblestone streets with lots of people making out and tons of bikers (bicycles, not Hell's Angels). It didn't take long to find someone eating a baguette, they literally eat them everywhere, just walking down the street munchin' on some bread. Sean also pointed out a beret and my stereotype list was pretty much complete. I'm still hoping for someone to shout out "Merde!!" to something I do or to see a mime, but I'm not getting my hopes up.

The bustle is great and the three of us went out in search of the perfect French restaurant. We walked and walked, Casey explaining why each place wasn't good enough, us amazed by that fact, since each one looked great. They really are just all little cafes with seating on the street and people looking out at everyone as they sip tiny coffees and eat crepes (which are delicious). We settled on an Italian restaurant and I had some very good, very fresh pesto; but don't worry Mom, it wasn't close to yours and they use pine nuts. We walked a bit and ducked into a pub for a local beer, which was fancy-named Budweiser. We talked for a while and just wandered, eventually making it to a creperie before calling it an early night.

Sean and I are about to get started on a day of walking about and sightseeing. We'll have a short day as our train to Marseilles leaves at 6:45p. We're totally screwed in the language department, but I guess we'll make-do.