Bonne Saint Valentin

Four years of French, straight A’s and couldn’t understand a word. Ash and I spent Valentine's weekend in Paris. There’s a street named Franklin Roosevelt, which in French is apparently pronounced “Frrron Rrroooooooos”. No hope if we can’t even understand English.

We flew Easyjet, which everyone scoffed at - as if we were going to be strapped to a plywood seat and water-boarded on the flight over (ouch, sorry, has Obama signed any bills to fight that yet? Maybe a few hundred billion should take care of it). Maybe we got lucky, but I found it pretty much the same as flying any other airline. It was a bit hectic flying back from Charles De Gaulle; it wasn’t as organized as the flight from Luton, so you had to be a little aggressive to make it to the front of the line since they don’t assign seats, but otherwise, a comfortable flight, polite flight attendants. We will definitely fly with them again.

The first night we checked into the hotel and immediately ventured out to find a fondue restaurant I came across online:

It was full of French charm from the time we walked through the door… hot and stuffy, no personal space, rude staff and belligerent owners. All that I hoped it would be!

Two long communal tables, you sit shoulder to shoulder, the girls have to climb over the table to their seat and they serve wine in baby bottles:

Apparently wine served in stemmed glasses are taxed, so this restaurant came up with a convenient way around the law…

I placed our order in French, fairly straightforward, cheese or meat fondue are your only options and red or white wine. Fromage et rouge s’il vous plait. Appetizing, non?

So as we eat our dinner of bread and hot cheese, sipping on vin rouge, it’s inevitable to make friends with those next to you. Luckily we had a couple of Brits next to us – ahh, English, you gain such an appreciation. They were celebrating their birthdays, which were only days apart. We made the London connection and got past all the basics, working there until June, blah blah, so I asked how old they were – 19 and the other 20 !! Wow, we’re getting old. Haha.. I knew they were younger, but 19??? Geez.

At this point we’re down a couple baby bottles, I had to run out and find an ATM since the place doesn’t take cards and we hadn’t stopped to get cash yet, so by the time I get back (an adventure in and of itself), the owner’s are ready for us to leave. It’s a prix-fixed menu, we’ve been talking to this other couple for an hour plus since we finished dinner, so the owner comes over and bangs on the table and tells all of us to leave. Ahhh, Paris…

It’s late, but our night isn’t over… we’re in the Montmartre area of Paris. We grab a glass of wine at the famous Chat Noir and wander by another famous place:

Then it’s back to the metro:

5 flights of stairs... THAT'S why everyone was lining up for the elevator. Eh, after a bowl of cheese, I suppose we could use the exercise :)

The Eiffel tower looks amazing at night, a monstrosity in a city of low lying buildings, but when the tens of thousands of lights sparkle on the hour, it is a sight to see. We make our way through the quiet streets to the base of the tower, no crowds, it’s like we have it all to ourselves. So we take advantage of the opportunity for some great pictures before going back to the hotel for a long night’s sleep to prepare for the miles of walking to take place over the next few days:

I’ve dreamed of coming to Paris since 8th grade when I started taking French. It intrigued me from day one - who knew I would have such an opportunity this early, I thought it would happen at some point in the future, when I retired.. the first night lived up to all of my expectations and more..

This is just the beginning, but it’s late and I’ve got a lot more pics to share.. stay tuned!