I feel as though every time I attempt to start an online journal or blog, I fail miserably. I am gung-ho for about a week and a half, and then life happens, and I no longer have the time to write about it. However, as I’m doing nothing other than sitting in Adam’s room at the moment, I might as well blog (yes, that is now a verb).

To be honest, I don’t know what exactly to write about. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t done or seen anything...it just means that I’ve done and seen too much to even know where to begin! I suppose I’ll just make a few notes on observations I’ve had thus far of the French people and France itself.

1: There are an abnormal amount of extremely attractive people.
I realize that this is a really shallow place to begin, but I can’t help it. It’s true...everywhere I look there is someone that Adam and I would classify as a “BB,” or “Bon Bon” (aka: a 10 out of 10). Maybe it’s because everyone here seems so exotic, or maybe it’s just a stereotype, or maybe it’s a projection of my internal sexual desires onto the faces of young French men. Or perhaps there truly are quite a few attractive BBs in France. Either way, people-watching is much more enjoyable when the eye’s taste is frequently whetted. Likewise, long lines seem much shorter when there is something besides the ground to look at (namely, attractive Italians...there is a story attached to this, by the way). Again, I apologize for the shallowness of this observation.

2: Bread and coffee is equivalent to a full meal.
Yes, bread counts as a breakfast. And lunch. And perhaps dinner as well if our wallets are feeling particularly light. This is not all together bad. Keep in mind this isn’t a piece of chewy, gets-stuck-in-your-teeth Wonder Bread. It’s good, crispy, please-dip-me-in-olive-oil bread. Baguettes make not only for excellent weapons (yes Tom, that was for you), but for satisfying meals (at least according to the French...I’m not sure yet if I agree).

3: There are more birds than people.
With a population as large as that of Paris, I would not be surprised if this were a true fact. Frankly, I don’t know how they all survive...I know I’m not feeding them. While waiting for my train to Avignon at the Gare de Lyon, a darn mutant Parisian bird actually flew into my head. Yes Alfred Hitchcock, it was scary.

4: Non, apparently, means oui.
No matter how many times I said “no, I would not like to buy a little glowing Eiffel Tower, even if it changes colors and I can get three for one euro” to the men near the Eiffel Tower, they didn’t seem to get the picture. I saw this trend continuing elsewhere in Paris, especially with street vendors. My annoyance with said phenomenon led me to almost run away with a rose from a Middle Eastern man. I will expand upon this story if asked.

5: The French are not snobby, except in the following situations:
if spoken to in English
if not greeted with “bonjour” upon entering the room
while in cars
when selling something
if working in a particularly touristy places

Allow me to give a few examples of the anti-snobby nature I have encountered instead:
the waiter at the restaurant we visited on our first evening here, who pleasantly joked with us and explained how the French tip system works
the men who run the hostel who, despite our late arrival at 1:30 in the morning after running through the streets of Paris, did not lock us out
the man who owns the Scottish bar down the street, who gave us each a shot of macadamia nut flavored vodka on the house
all those who have put up with our terrible French thus far
the woman at Orange who patiently helped us as we figured out our phones
the woman at the pharmacy who explained how to say “straightener” in French (which is an incredibly difficult appliance to describe with minimal vocabulary, by the way)
the French fashion designer who spoke with Catherine and me for over a half an hour (again, if you ask, I will tell you this story)

6: The French + cars = dangerous.
Roads look like sidewalks and sidewalks look like roads. Cars do not stop. Pedestrians right of way simply does not exist. Drivers pay little to no attention to common lane rules. Basically, it’s scary. Look both ways before you cross the street, children.

I could go on and on. My life is one of constant observation (even though some people whose names I will not mention think I’m horribly unobservant). The time I’ve spent thus far in France is like sensory overdrive. I can’t describe all the things I’ve seen, smelled, felt... However, despite my inability to adequately relay my experiences thus far, I hope I’ll be able to give you all a relatively accurate (though slightly skewed) portrayal of my life in France in my upcoming blogs. Jusqu’à là, au revoir!