Or is that front?
I have about 20 pages in a notebook, journaled, I guess,
and I'll probably transcribe some or all of that at some point.
But for now...
I'll just say there were some great times, and I'm glad to be home.
There was also a rather large amount of stress, starting with my connection in Detroit, where I was supposed to meet my mother.
TRAVELOCITY had issued both tickets to me.
And no one would change the ticket.
I had 30 minutes to try to figure shit out before my plane issued the most final of all final boarding calls, so I ended up walking onto that flight knowing I would know nothing for 9 more hours.
She has no cell phone, being old fashioned (and living in the woods where such things as cell towers get in the way of the migration paths of hummingbirds or some such garbage) so I was unable to reach her directly.
Instead, I sat on hold with Travelocity until the last second with no word from them.
It was really a horrible flight, because of that.
I wasn't sure what she was going to do--
I thought I may end up in Paris alone, and with the greatest failure of my life surrounding me like a cloud.
Little did I know, she had bought a new ticket on a new airline and was racing me across the Atlantic.
It wasn't my fault, but yet it was.
I should have caught the error.
Can you tell me how, with all my careful planning and preparing, I didn't call to confirm our flights???
I've never done it before, and never had a problem, so it just didn't occur to me.
So, I called the husband again as soon as I got to Paris, and he still didn't know anything about my mom.
He suggested waiting there, but I was exhausted and didn't believe it was very likely that she would be there any time soon, if at all.
So I took the Air France bus to the train station, and wandered around for a while trying to figure out WHERE THE FUCK THE METRO WAS, (down the escalators, to the left, for my line--#1, fyi),
and off at the right stop (St. Paul) and to find my hotel.
I wandered through the Jewish district for a while, and it turned out my hotel was only a block from the metro stop, almost in view of it.
At least it was the Jewish district and not the big scary mean guys district.
So I checked in and walked up a flight, then got in the world's smallest elevator--
it claimed to hold 3 people, but I'd like to see 'em.
...perhaps that's where "menage a trois" came from--you'd have to all be groping each other, at the least, and be spliced together if you're of a larger persuasian, in order to fit 3 people in that thing.
With my backpack on, I couldn't even turn around.
So I backed out of the thing when it hit my floor.
Or rather, the 5th floor, at which point I cruised another kick-ass spiraly flight of stairs to the 6th, where my room was.
With two little balconies, looking out over the street and a cool church.
(looooved that room!)
So I called the husband again, and was now informed that my mother was at the charles de gaulle airport.
I began to get nervous because it was really not as easy as I thought it would be to get to the hotel the way I did, but just when I went out to look for her,
she arrived by taxi (thank god).
I don't think I've ever been so happy to see her!
So we caught our respective breath, and went out exploring.
That's all for now, but I'd just like to say this:
our last dinner in France was at a seemingly popular restaurant,
but it was part of the Chateaux tour package we did, and they gave us this special menu...
I'm now 99.93586% sure that it was a menu designed for english speakers,
and its sole purpose was to FUCK WITH US.
Her appetizer turned out to be herring, but she ate the whole thing thinking it was snake--
until the last bite, when I made her tell me what she thought it was, and here's how that conversation went:
Mom: It tastes like fish, but the shape of it made me think...
Lisa: Oh, god, is it EEL??
Mom (looking inexplicably crestfallen): Oh. Wow, it probably is. I thought it was snake.
She is decidedly finished.
(the reason I was surprised that eel was more upsetting than snake was that she is petrified of snakes.)
My appetizer remains a mystery, as I have yet to see any of the words in its description in my phrase book (which was conveniently NEVER present at meal times... what the fuck was wrong with us?? didn't we learn?? uh...as this story demonstrates, NO, no, we did not.)
So we giggled our way through the course, trying to look cool and, quite obviously, failing in a brilliant shade of flaming orange with purple polka dots.
By this point, I couldn't remember what I had ordered, although I was fairly sure that my translation of "moules" as "mussels" was incorrect, and I would be presently receiving mutton, which I've never had and my mother described as "It's lamb. Old lamb." (and not like sheep old, but like, sitting around for days uncovered in a warm kitchen old)
Ok, so when they arrived with my heaping bowl of steamed mussels and heaping plate of AMERICAN STYLE FRIES!!! I was overjoyed.
I loooove mussels.
However, I bet most people think they're icky looking, which is why my theory of "fake menu to freak out stupid-ass americans" is spot on.
Mom's was whitefish--bland but safe.
So, we had some chocolate mousse and something else I can't remember, and got the hell out of there.
Left the waiter a huge tip, though, because he was so damn cute with his mop of spikey hair and his adorable attempts at english--much more adorable than any of my attempts at french, trust me.
Kid looked about 12, I swear, so I wasn't like checking him out, he was just very likeable.
That was a long story for a person who said she was finished...
We had lots of really wonderful food, but that meal was pretty crazy.
I have tons of pictures, and all that journalling to post, so maybe I'll work on it over the weekend and make up a little linky thing--a title for each story or day and you can click on the link to read it or something.
yes, that sounds way more organized than I usually ever am.
And a hearty thanks to all my delicious and nutritious guest posters!
You guys are amazing and funny and sexy and smart--
and I appreciate very
much the effort you went to in order to keep my seat warm.
I hope everyone got better acquainted, and everyone now has hordes of new fans
(or at least a few new, very cool, commenters).
I am, however, a little surprised that so many of you still think of this as a sex-laden site.
I hardly ever talk about sexy stuff, and I only post one measely shot each week
(which, by the way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to quit doing. at least on a regular basis--i liked it better when I only did it when I felt like it. pressure is so 2005.)
Eh, who cares?
Me and my jet lag are going to go back to bed.
(So we can have a threesome with my husband. in a very small elevator...?)
Bienvenue, a moi!