La France

Paris is bathed in a soft gray morning light, which slips through the crack in the curtains covering our tall double-doored window alongside the cool, fresh morning air. I can hear the pitter-patter of rain on the rooftop, and the droplets pool and slide slowly down the low wrought-iron gate which overlooks a courtyard of trees and flowers below.

The rest of the family is still asleep - they just arrived early on Monday morning, and haven't quite had time to catch up with the jet lag. Their first introduction to Europe, in fact, was via a harrowing cab ride through the city streets! Our driver somehow managed not only to text and talk on his cell phone, but also to weave his way at blazing speeds through throngs of Smart Cars, bikes, one SUV, and thousands - literally - of motorcycles and scooters. It was a great first look at Paris, though, and since it was sunny and almost 70 degrees, it felt wonderful to ride with the windows down (and the French pop blaring). Most of all, I love how green everything is.

That day we met up with some friends from the south of France, who showed us around a bit and took us out to our first real French restaraunt, a creperie. Crepes are basically really thin pancakes, and here, they're HUGE, and delicious, of course, and filled with everything from ham and egg to honey and marzipan. Bruno even got one that was lit on fire! I can't say that lunch the next day was any less amazing - we took a river cruise on the Seine, which was absolutely beautiful, since the heavy clouds which worried us in the morning parted and gave way to gorgeous shafts of light: it was warm and sunny as we ate and listened to a violinist in our glassed-in boat, gliding down the emerald waters of the Seine. We had to sneak Ryan (my 14-year-old brother) in, though, seeing as his old sneakers and torn-up khakis didn't quite meet the dress code! I was also a bit surprised when I looked up at one point to watch a baguette float on by....

We also all tried escargot - snails! Mom had already had them when she was 13 (early traumatization), so she was exempt. Dad went first, and actually enjoyed them... then it was my turn... I figured after the Arctic Ocean, this shouldn't be a problem, but I have to admit that it was a little gross. Okay, a lot gross. They were all right - maybe a bit like clam, but a little earthy - regardless, the crepes were definitely better.

One of the most entertaining things, for sure, has been attempting to speak to people in French. My biggest challenge so far was probably ordering a burger for Ryan, without egg, and with cheese on top (our waiter seemed surprised that we wanted the cheese on top) in a restaurant where no one spoke English. It's been fun, and so many people have been really courteous and kind - though they do seem to enjoy correcting my French. Despite the snobby stereotype, yesterday when I had gotten a blister, I ducked into a tiny pharmacie looking for neosporin: the pharmacienne said she didn't have anything like it, but she told me to sit down in a chair, and said she would get me something even better. She disappeared into the back of the store, and in a few minutes, returned with not only cushioned bandaids, but also cotton with antiseptic, and helped me clean it out and bandage it up right there.

Otherwise, we've really enjoyed just wandering up and down the side streets by our hotel. There are little patisseries (pastry shops), boulangeries (bread shops), and even poissoneries (fish shops!) The placement of the high buildings creates courtyards between streets, and there are huge, tall doors that open into the streets to let the cars out. The balconies are lined with wrought iron gates and flowers, and there are ornate statues peeking out over the tops of old buildings, and casually reclining in alcoves. We also headed to one of the highest points near the Tour Eiffel to take some touristy pictures. :)

Today was a lazy, rainy morning, but we're going to head out to the Louvre soon, and I'm really looking forward to a bike tour of Versailles later in the week. It might be a little cliche, but it's true: Paris is beautiful in the Spring.