And then, there was Paris...

Almost immediately after landing at CDG, I aquired the insecure awkward stare of a person totally thrown out of their linguistic comfort zone for the first time. Christina had taught me a few essentials ("I don't speak French" "Do you speak English?" and most importantly "I'm sorry!") but they did little to alleviate this weird new self-conciousness. I tried to tell myself that it was good for me, and that I sure as hell needed to get over it before leaving for Egypt in the Fall, but still...ugh.

This wasn't my only first impression though. To get to the hotel we had to walk for about 45 minutes. The path took us through the winding streets of Northern Paris, overflowing with Cafes, brasseries Arab butcheries and more. Beautfiul balconies seem to poke lazily out of every building. Throughout the day yesterday, extreme language-lacking awkwardity and visual extasy competed for control of my brain.

Perhaps it was the 12-hour nap, or the late-night converstion with the kids from Philly who had to pound on the door so we would wake up to let them in to our shared dorm-room, or maybe the free croissants and coffee at the hostel this morning, but today has been a different story entirely. The extasy and excitement has cast the discomfort aside in an epic fashion, appropriate for the history and beauty that surrounds us.

It is hard to decide what even to write about this place. Because we've been around entirely on foot, Christina and I have seen many faces of the city. We've seen the gorgeous Place de la Concorde and the walked under the Tour Eiffel, but we've also been treated to the subtle beauties of Paris that care little about the industry of tourism. These, I think, are my favorite parts.

Yesterday evening, we spent a while in the chapel of St. Germain L'Auxerrois, listening to a choir practice. At dusk, we sat on the edge of a fountain in one of the plazas at the Louvre and listened to a man play flute concertos that echoed across the facades.

To counter the one big criticism that we have heard about Paris (both here and at home), the average Parisian has not struck us as rude or American-hating. Actually, to be quite honest, the only people we've heard this from here are ones who I would be totally ready to be rude to as well.

Despite how nice it is, we have itchy feet that we can't fight any longer. Tommorow, we take our TGV train down to Bayonne, then St. Jean Pied du Port, and its BUEN CAMINO from there!

Au'revoir