"Water...like water....WA-T-ER."

 Bonjour! Merci Buco! Au Revoir! Oui! Pardon!

For the past weekend I have been relying solely on these five phrases to keep me alive. Other than Spanish, I have never before dealt in depth with another language. This being the case, my automatic reaction was to respond to every French question with, “Si,” I could just not get Oui down at all; every person would just stare at me! The best language barrier experience I had was trying to describe what water was. I was ordering at this small café in Montmartre and was trying to ask for water, but had NO idea how to tell him. I just kept repeating. “Water, like uhhhh you know…water? Water? WA-T-ER???” I must have used water as an attempt to be a descriptive word for, water, about 9 times. The guy had not a clue what WA-T-ER was but was very demanding that he had, “coca cola light.” 

Although I am starting this off complaining about the French language barrier, I would like to clear some things up. The French are the nicest people I have come in contact with in Europe. We all need to drop the whole stuck up, baguette in the air, wearing my black and white striped shirt, image and throw it in the Seine River to drown.  Although they do not speak any, and I mean any, English, many of these Frenchies attempted to help me as I was lost for about 8 hours straight in France. Yes, I just said that I got lost for about 8 hours in France. Now before you go thinking I am a dumb little girl lost in the city, I was not at fault at all! 

Before we got to Paris, we decided to map out our address and find a route through the metro to get to the hotel. 57 Rue de la Tour….that street will forever be burned into my memory. Now, to set the scene I will inform you I was carrying a duffle bag probably more than half my size, and the only reason it was that large was because the weather was a 50% it is going to rain or 50% it is going to be the nicest weather ever, I had to prepare! Well, so here I am on Rue de la Tour, carrying a 60 pound bag, looking for number 57. We must have walked down and up that street for two and a half hours….the numbers literally went 54, 55, 56, and 72. It was the most frustrating thing ever. And although many locals were ready to help with directions, they were in French. Or French English, which is pretty much French. Finally after hours of looking for the possible 57, we decided to go into a hotel and ask for directions, thinking a hotel worker must speak some English. Well, he spoke very good English; clear enough to inform us our hotel was not in the city of Paris at all. As we pulled out our map, the town was completely off our Paris map…although the concierge man was very helpful to draw an arrow pointing off the map, as for us to remember that our hotel is not in the city of Paris. After deciding what to do, we couldn’t just give up on the hotel, it looked nice in the pictures and maybe getting there wouldn’t be so bad. Well, wrong, very wrong again. After transferring three trains to get to Torcy, France…the doors opened up to the French version of the Bronx.  Filled with the scariest looking locals you could ever find, we began to again wonder down the streets, listening to the pointing fingers of the French. Spending another three hours praying I wouldn’t get robbed, we decided to call it quits. I don’t even think there was a hotel; it was a fake address where I would show up to get killed. So finally at 10 at night, after re-transferring three trains, we got back into Paris. We found a hotel so close to a the Eiffel Tower, there could be no way of getting lost ever again. At this point, we are all literally pissed. Just dirty, angry, tired, and not to mention that 60 pound bag on my back the entire time, I was dead. But we trekked on; we conjoured up the strengh and walked the 300 feet to the Eiffel Tower. 

Within seconds of getting there, 20,000 light bulbs light up the sky in a simultaneous combustion. The Eiffel Tower sparkled like a diamond, a magical dust to take away, erase our minds of anything bad that had happened the whole day and to leave us at peace and excitement, knowing we were in Paris, gazing at the Eiffel Tower. 

And the rest of the trip was so picture perfect Paris, we did everything in the books. Waking up we hoped on the Red Bus tour, stopping at the Arc De Triomphe, taking us all the way through the city past the Grand Opera, the Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame, Louvre, and everything in between. It was perfect, no map necessary! We had a picnic lunch outside the Eiffel Tower, with our baguette and ice cream... Speaking of food, I have never before eaten so much in my life, especially so many sweets. Every chance we could we were eating crepes, beignets, ice cream, more crepes…all so rich and creamy. It was physically impossible for me to be full because I knew I couldn’t waste one bite. I even was able to squeeze in watching a local football game, the ball even came to me twice and I felt so cool kicking it back ahah. Watching the ball fly back and cross the view of the Eiffel Tower was unreal. It really hit me that I was in Europe, traveling!!! In the evening we got to really immerse ourselves in the Parisian culture as we joined the hundreds on locals gathered on the lawns in front of the Tower, to get down to some French Pop. We had no idea who was singing, or what, but we went on top the city to sing and dance right along. 

Later that night we took a river cruise down the Seine River and for some reason the water made the city that much more romantic. It was so calming and quiet, almost like we could watch the city moving but not hear a word. We went under the Lover’s Bridge, where you were told to make a wish, which I feel like I made a very good one ;) Paris is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, with its delicate food, friendly people, and amazing landscapes…I was speechless by the end. I understand how lucky I truly am, a weekend in Paris, doesn’t it sound great! I miss you and love you all. 

And last of all, my favorite picture of my favorite moment in Paris...

 Love Always,

                       Kels