I woke up at 10:30 AM.
It appears I am finally adjusting to the time change. Gonna kick this day right in the butt!!!
I walked everywhere today in my galaxy pants. If you haven't seen them in person, I'm sorry, you are missing out. I have great pants.
Today was so much colder than yesterday. It was almost as if mother nature said, don't worry my children, go back to work, you're not missing out on anything. A grand gesture of soothing everyone's FOMO.
After 4 hours of studiously working at The Hood (pictured above) I dropped off my laptop, and proceeded to walk an hour and 15 from my place to the Champs Elysees for ... what else but hot chocolate and pastries. On the way I ducked into Starbucks to use the toilette and people were EATING AND DRINKING COFFEE inside. WHY?!!!!!!!!! WHY would you waste your hard earned money on that crap when YOU ARE IN PARIS?!?!! Starbucks is already dodgy by American standards but in Paris it's just plain criminal.
Ok, so YES, fine. I did it. I stopped and ate in a chain called Eric Kayser, which is essentially a super upscale Pret A Manger. Whatever. At least I didn't eat at Starbucks.
On top of that, I went to Laduree on the Champs Elysees, and the takeaway line was spilling into the street. Uber touristy but uber worth it. Once inside, I felt like I was transported back to the 1920s. Sadly, I didn't leave myself enough time to dine in, but it's absolutely on my list for my return (ohhhh, HELLZ yeah, I am so coming back).
Even though I was in the vicinity, I didn't get up close and personal with the ET, aside from my romantic Saturday night boat ride. We've had a long distance love affair this entire trip. When I visited last time with my brooding ex bf, we went up to the top of the tower. And it was not memorable. In fact, I'd forgotten I was ever even in the tower until today. The next time I do that, I'd like to rewrite the memory with a happy love.
Getting anxious that my 40-minute wait for an Ispahan macaroon was going to make me late for my webinar, I called an Uber, as much as I would've loved to walk back (that's a lie, my feet were killing me).
Afterward, I New-York-walked over to a local French bistro before it stopped serving food, and had the divine pleasure of sitting outside under the heat lamps to watch the passersby. The restaurant had no wifi connection, so I was forced to do nothing but be.
Man, I wish I was French. This lifestyle is bananas. Smoking, eating, drinking, laughing, lounging, and all the while looking manifique. EVERYONE eats steak tartare. It literally looks like it was unwrapped from the plastic wrapping, shaped into a circle, and thrown on the plate.
I tried to be a badass one night and impress the French bartender by ordering the steak tartare and the strongest wine on the menu. It was pretty gross. Maybe it was just the restaurant I chose, but I couldn't hang with the texture. There must be something to it if the entire city practically lives on this stuff, but I didn't get with the program ... this time.
Note to self: remember not to pack your ego on the way to Budapest.
I wrestled myself (psychologically) from my seat, even though I want to live here forever, because I need to pack and fly on a plane tomorrow. I feel sad. This was incredible. I am obsessed with French culture, want to learn French, and am already planning a 2-month return. Who's comin with?