I see Paris, I see France

I saved my highschool French notes, and years ago stole my dad's French phrase book, in the hope that someday I might make it to France. I even bought a copy of 501 French Verbs so that when the opportunity presented itself, I would be that rare, chic américain, who eats at hole-in-the wall restaurants and orders without reading translations. I'm part French on the inside, you know. But of course, all my foreign language materials were shipped off with our storage last fall because why in the world would I need them before December? But you know what? It's not December; it's June. And I'm still living in my mother's house. (For which I am eternally grateful. But it's my mother's house.)

Now, who was strolling in the sunshine along the Seine today singing Beauty and the Beast songs in skinny jeans and ballet flats? C'était moi. I've visited the Tuilerie Gardens everyday for the last three days and I've not tired of it yet. I've seen the Mona Lisa in person (though I had to dodge some elbows to get up to it and in the end, I much preferred other pieces.) And I prayed in Notre Dame (which is hard to do, the architecture is so distractingly fascinating). Who will not be ordering andouillette sausage again? That would be moi, again. No tripe, merci. I'm still experiencing the aftertaste 17 hours later.

I am in France and I speak just a lick of French. I am trés embarrassed. Not really. I'm in France where most people speak English and I'm too enamoured by my daily view of the Eiffel Tower to waste any thoughts on being unhappy or disappointed in any way. France, France, France. I was held to secrecy until this last day of my trip so I'm indulging in the liberty of saying it now.... FRANCE! 

So what have I been doing here? Eating, walking, journaling, reading St. Augustine's Confessions, breathing.... The air feels so clean here.... when you're not walking behind a smoker anyway. I've been admiring the gumption of men in designer suits and ties zipping through traffic on bicycles, marveling at the chicken-sized pigeons, agonizing over whether my outfit is "French" enough, and doing some more walking. I have blisters on my pinkie toes because wearing flats is much more "French" than hiking boots in this "walking city". The French are classy but I'm not so sure about their logic. 

Clearly, I've left the kiddos behind. I've needed a respite desperately. This was infinitely more than I would have hoped for. Danny says it's an anniversary present. Even though he is working, we've been able to put a lot of hours towards romantic wanderings. This is a big anniversary for us so we've been celebrating all year. In February we bought a video camera (we haven't had one since Noemie was a baby) and this month he's buying me a house. So we're splurging a little. Not really. God has provided all these things out of His riches- we've hardly paid for any of it. It has been the craziest, hardest year of my life but I feel so blessed.