Bonjour!

After four flights in less than 24 hours (yes, it saved me a few hundred dollars and yes, now I wish I hadn't set it up that way), I'm back in Paris. The flights were fine, it was just a long day.

I arrived at the apartment about 3pm local time, and it is really good. It isn't as nice as the place I stayed last time (which was owned by American and very American-user friendly), and it is super small...like NYC hotel room small. However, the lcoation is fantastic; I'm in the middle of everything but on a quiet street. For those of you who have been to Paris, Notre Dame is on Ile de Cite; I'm on Ile de Sainte Louis, the "other island", just behind ND.

Last time I was here it was November, and I missed two things: the flowers and the crowds. It will be interesting to see if in a week I feel putting up with the crowds was worth it to see the gardens at their peak. People EVERYWHERE, and way more people (young people, especially) speaking English. I think I'm up against the recent college graduate crowd.

Today was mostly housekeeping and getting stocked for the week. Highlight of the day was getting yelled at by a cashier at Monprix (kinda like Target.) She's ringing me up, and I'm trying to help bag, but can't find the bags. She says something to me, and I say, in french, that I do not speak French. So then she says "un, deux, trois", slightly irritated. OK, I know what she's saying, by I can't fingure out why she's saying it. While I'm trying to put it together, she says it again, louder (of course, beucase that always helps comprehension), and this time uses her fingers to count. When I don't respond again, she says it a third time, even louder and with the fingers closer to my face. By this time another cashier has come over to say it in English (also loudly, also using her fingers to count). "one, two, three". By this time I'm having PTSD-like flashbacks of mom making one threat or another if I don't do "x" by the time she counts to three. However, it finally dawns on me that I need to tell them how many plastic bags I want. I resist the urge to say "however many bags it takes"...mostly becuase I do not know how to say that in French. I give them a "trois" and everyone was happy. The next store I went to I scoped out the cashiers before commiting to a line. One was a man with a very deformed left hand. I figured he would be kind (or at least patient), and I was right.

Other than that, I walked a lot, ate a quiche lorraine and a chocolate croissant, and unpacked. After very little sleep last night, I'm ready to crash. More tomorrow, when I will be joined by one of my former students, who is currently living in Germany.