"The American arrives in Paris with a few French phrases he has culled from a conversational guide or picked up from a friend who owns a beret."--Fred Allen

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It's taken me two full days to finally adjust to Paris time. Granted, this didn't stop us from closing down the bar until they took our table and chairs away (literally) our first night, but tonight-- I am exhausted and glad that we called it quits relatively early.

I won't bore you with details about the eight hour plane ride here. Thankfully there is Xanax. And Air France is about a million light years ahead of us when it comes to technology and making air travel slightly more bearable. We were in coach and everyone had their own personal TV screen to watch movies or play games of their choice on. The typically inedible, gray airplane meal was replaced by about seven courses, all of which where actually decent. I conked out on the pull out tray for most of the trip though. :-)

Carousel near the Eiffel Tower
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When we arrived here Thursday afternoon (still late at night Detroit time), we were too excited to try and sleep. We checked out an open air market in our neighborhood. I couldn't understand anything that anyone was saying. I was unable to identify half of the food items in the stalls. Most everything smelled kind of funny. But, I loved all of it--made me feel sort of like the female verison of Anthony Bourdain, even if for just a moment. We grabbed baguette sandwiches from a patisserie across the avenue and ate them on a park bench, watching eccentric old women walk their miniature dogs and mothers in designer sundresses pushing designer strollers. The people here are so different. The simple task of walking to the grocery store is an occasion to get dressed up for, to see as well as be seen. And you can't fool them into thinking you are French. Even if you dress in all black and wear gigantic shades and refuse to smile at anyone (trust me, I've been trying). They somehow just know, it's like an American aura you unknowingly radiate, even without speaking English loudly and toting a fanny pack. Not to say that all of the French are snobby and dislike Americans. I've had quite a few waiters and waitresses treat me with far less disdain after I make attempts to speak the language. ;-)

Our Street - Avenue de Breuteuil
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On our first day we made it a point to see the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triumph up close. I know this will sound completely cliche, but the Eiffel Tower is truly amazing. You don't realize how larger than life or how ornately detailed it is until you are standing underneath it. And when it starts to light up like a Christmas tree on speed after sunset? You can't stop staring. We strolled the Champs Elysees with all the other tourists and pressed our noses against the glass at Louis Vuitton, Givenchy and Hermes. We sipped iced coffees at a cafe and people watched. We were the stereotypical tourists...but minus the fanny packs and "I Heart Paris" T-shirts.

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Our second day, more well rested, we grabbed fresh croissants for breakfast. Maybe the French are a whole lot thinner than us, but I still want my bacon, eggs and extra crisp hash browns for breakfast, Dix Cones style. Don't give me a dinner roll and expect me not to be hungry again in an hour! The croissant got me through our walk through the Luxembourg Gardens--which we just barely made a dent in. To Parisians, this place is like the beach in the summer time to us. They come to the Gardens with their friends and lay out or read books or even just sleep. Everything there is pristine and the sculptures and buildings that dot the 60 acres are breathtakingly beautiful.

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After grabbing a late lunch/early dinner (and making fun of my terrible attempts at French with the waiter), we walked down the Quai and crossed one of the several bridges that takes you over to the little island where Notre Dame and the Saint Chapele stand. If you didn't look at what people are wearing or driving, or what the millions of shops and boutiques are selling, you would honestly believe that you had stepped back into the 1300's.

We were so tired by the time we arrived back at the apartment by 9:30 that we just decided to stay in, drink some wine (about 3 dollars American per bottle for some awesome Provence-made merlot, which rocks!) on the terrace and watch a DVD. Tomorrow we are tackling the open air market on it's busiest day, trying to visit the Rodin Museum and then checking out a bar or two...of course. ;-)