I made it to Paris this morning. And now am happily jacking an unsecured wifi connection up in my tiny fourth floor room on Rue St Antoine, in the Marais.
The view out my window is so typical Paris, it’s sick – 19th century buildings and a massive, dark church. I immediately did what American girls in Paris do when they get here: threw my window open, leaned out it, looked out at the slate roofs and iron balconies and grinned.
Now, I’ve rested up a bit from the ordeal that was getting here (with a heavy backpack, that’s no joke) and I’m ready to go look for cafe au lait and lunch. In that order. And buy a museum pass, and take on some of the recommended guidebook walks, and interact with people in my half-assed French.
Actually, a nap may be in order first – I was up far too late hanging out with dufresne at the hostel in London. Perhaps I’ll just shut these windows to block out the traffic noise and crash out for a bit. Because I’m still going to wake up in Paris.
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