Beware of Paris

Last spring, my kids and husband and I went to Paris for a week, thinking, hey, Paris is a moveable feast, it'll be an amazing experience for the kids and it's Paris, what could be better?

It was wonderful trip, excluding that moment when the plane took off and my daughter said, "I have the worst feeling that we're going to crash!" and then described that feeling transatlantically for the next six hours. Paris is indeed beautiful (duh) and everything was delicious (double duh) and I felt really comfortable there despite the rumors that Americans are not widely adored there. I think part of my appeal to the Parisians that I met was that my limited vocabulary made me appear really easy going and fun loving, which, incidentally is pretty much the polar opposite of my natural personality. Whoever thought that "just be yourself" was sound advice for interpersonal relations has never had the good fortune of meeting me. Anyway, since my vocabulary consisted of "viola" and "c'est la vie" and "croissant", my popularity was secured. Yes, of course I know "ooh lala" but no one likes a show off.

One of the things that I loved about Paris was how child-friendly it was. I don't mean just the bistros, but the boulevards were made for kids to run around on. Or for Napoleon to march on, really, I fail to see the difference. And Husbandrinka had lived in Paris for years, so he was a fantastic tour guide, showing us the Obelisk that Napoleon swiped from Egypt, the Russian gold bridge and for some inexplicable reason, the bus stop where he first disembarked when he first arrived in Paris as a student. (I'm assuming that he didn't take the bus all the way from NYC, but I never asked).

The other thing that I loved about Paris is the Eiffel Tower.



I don't know who that person is in the picture, or why the hell she wouldn't get out of my otherwise postcard perfect shot. But it's not me, so you don't have to tell me how adorable I look or anything like that.

I also loved the views from the Eiffel Tower



And visiting Husbandrinka's friends whose apartment faced the Eiffel Tower. I can't tell you how amazing it was to drink champagne at their apartment, look out at the Eiffel Tower all lit up and smile broadly at them because they don't speak English and I already Viola'd them to death.  They told us that when they first moved there, they'd sit up all night and look at the Eiffel Tower all night. At least that's what Husbandrinka translated it as. For all I know, they could have been saying "she sure does like to drink, that one.  And from the looks of her, doesn't pass up on too many meals, either."

So imagine my surprise when, months later,  I came across this list that my daughter made, warning the general population not to go to Paris if they don't like certain things, many of them, incidentally, not generally or exclusively associated with Paris, but all of which we encountered. Ah, youth.  C'est la vie.