I love Paris in the springtime.

I love Paris in the fall!

You know what I don't love about Paris? Chatelet.

Picture this - Beth, resplendent in pagne and flushed with dairy and good looks, arrives in Paris at Gare de Lyon at midnight. As a strong and independent woman, she declines the offer of help to carry her 50+ lbs of care package, prison bag and giant backpack.

Putting a brave face on things, she conquers her irrational distaste of escalators (caused by a terrifying story told by a cousin of a fictitious woman whose face was ripped off by one) and manages to get herself and her many bags on the escalator. Some beer-perfumed teenagers offer to help with the first flight of stairs; exercise be damned! She accepted.

Now that was just Gare de Lyon. It's a classy establishment, so there are escalators galore and very few short flights of stairs (maybe 2 or 3). I manage to get down the 14 train towards St. Lazare, which is equally classy and even wheelchair accessible (where was that elevator, when I was imagining tumbling down the escalator, wine bottles smashing on my head and having no face?!).

That's when it hits me. Chatelet is where I have to change to get the 4. For those of you who don't know Paris public transit well, Chatelet is a maze where five lines cross. When I remembered, I actually thought about going back up the many escalators to exit and maybe find a taxi and risking the metro fare I'd already paid. Lucky for me, I am particularly stubborn, when I know I haven't chosen the best option available.

The two lines that I used in Chatelet are possibly the furthest apart of all of them. I think that I took 10 flights of stairs. That was stairs, not escalators. I have the beginnings of blisters and my whole body is sore.

Do you know what Cameroon has that I am looking forward to? Almost no stairs! Also, less cold.

France again, France again, jiggity jig!

Maggi, you're everywhere!

Ever since I left Paris, I've been cold. Coupled with my newfound lactose intolerance (and swift reacquaintance with reliable modern plumbing), I was almost convinced that I had malaria. Luckily, I'm pretty sure that was just my hypochondria acting up.

In Paris, I spent most of my time walking around on my way to check out Sciences Po, where I'm thinking of going for grad school. I stayed up by the Gare du Nord and walked all the way down to St. Germain-des-Pres. On my way, I found the world's smallest bakery, had a delicious tiny cupcake and managed to confuse the employee into doing Cameroonian greetings (The 'soir' starts at 12 noon in Cameroon and 6pm in France.). I finally found Sciences Po and in true French fashion, it was a jour ferie, meaning it was closed. Sciences Po is in a really posh area of Paris, located not far from the Deux Magots (favorite cafe of Ernest Hemingway), Swarovski Crystal and Armani. I was getting a little worried that my Anglo-Cameroonian French accent and copious amounts of pagne wouldn't exactly fit in, but my accent is already changing again and everyone I talked to was so friendly.

Metz is clearly very ugly.

After I found Sciences Po, I treated myself to a movie, The Grand Budapest Hotel, and some Smurf gummies. I got to talking with the epicerie owner and I got my first ever "petit cadeau" in France and a standing invitation to go to Morocco. Ready for an it's-a-small-world-moment? His two sisters are both married to Marines stationed in Jacksonville.

Ready for an even more impressive it's-a-small-world-moment? The next morning in my covoiturage (ride-share) to Metz, there was a fellow Jacksonvillian. Not that impressed? He and I went to the same tiny elementary school in a city of 1,000,000 people. My first car ride in Europe was a bit of a change from the petites voitures of Cameroon... Instead of seven or eight people in a 90s Toyota, we were five people in a humongous Audi with leather interior and the new car smell.

Metz was incredible! It was wonderful to see the old crew again and though a lot of the colocs have moved on, we had a good reunion. I went to Bouche a l'Oreille (their slogan is "cuisine du fromage") and almost died from a cheese overload; I thought I was being so good! I ordered a salad on their menu, instead of oeuf cocotte or quiche Lorraine! For dessert, I had the coupe Lorraine - mirabelle sorbet with mirabelle eau de vie. So good!

I got to hang out with Morgane at la Migane and stayed at 32 RdPdM again. My last night a few of the Georgia Tech guys put on a great concert in the basement of the bar and I couldn't stop thinking things like "I knew them before they were famous!" They were wonderful! Afterwards, there was a going away party for Aaron, who's moving back to the States.

And now for the list all of you have been waiting for....

What I've Eaten So Far
-orange juice
-quiche lorraine (team effort from Elaine and me)
-pears
-strawberries
-blueberries
-blackberries
-raspberries
-fromage blanc
-goat cheese with raspberry-apricot jam

-baguette
-blueberry bagel with cream cheese TWICE
-tartiflette (potatoes and lardons smothered in cream and reblochon cheese)
-hot chevre on toast
-pancakes
-omelette sans spaghetti
-rosette
-orange oranges
-tuna (I like it now. Go figure)
-Indian buffet (curry veggies, jasmine rice, samossas, fried eggplant, naan, etc)
-coconut ice cream
-macarons (lime/basil, raspberry/rose)
-merveilleux (meringue, cream, shaved chocolate and wafer dessert)
-doner kebab
-Peeps and Reese's Pieces (Thanks, Glenna!)
-chocolate cake (Gracias, Heather)

Centre Pompidou-Metz

Somewhere during all that eating, I found some time for a little culture. I took an afternoon to go to Metz's Pompidou Center. Like Paris, it's a modern art museum. Unlike Paris, it's a good-looking art museum. They had a special exhibit on paparazzi and the relationship between them and their subjects. At the entrance, there was an installation of cameras, microphones and a red carpet to kind of give you the celebrity treatment. (I think I'll take my anonymity any day.)

Now I'm in Strasbourg staying with Heather and Ludo. This afternoon I'm going to brave the cold and walk to centreville and if everything goes according to plan, sit in a cafe and people watch.