I suppose there are worse things than getting sidetracked in Paris
Today was lovely. It started out with me planning to walk in the direction of Montmartre and hopefully having time to stop and draw a little bit before going to class in the afternoon, but as happens with many an adventure, I got a little sidetracked. More accurately, I walked in the wrong direction. While I kept taking streets that went vaguely North, I realized afterwards that all of these were curved ever-so-slightly towards the right. This meant that by the time I reached the Seine and had no idea where I was, I decided to give in and look at a map on the back of the bus station (which looks way less tourist-y than pulling my pop-up "PARIS" map out of my backpack), only to discover that I was completely on the East side of Paris. Oops.
Evidently one could sit on the grass at this park
So I decided to walk a little further, buy a baguette to go with the goat cheese and tomato I had brought with me, and finally found a Dia that took debit cards to quench my thirst from the 27° C weather. [Note to self: always carry cash. The green, BNP Paribas ATM signs have now become like beacons in the distance.] I plopped down on what seemed to be the only free bench in a park jam-packed with other people with the same idea, and commenced to eat my lunch in front of a gorgeous church. After struggling trying to avoid getting tomato juice all over me, I walked to Concorde, took the Metro back to Reid Hall, and sat in class for a few hours. My attention span is quite short at that point in the afternoon, but like I said, my teacher does a great job. She always nods and winks at the class, saying, "D'accord?" to verify that we understood the point she was trying to get across, her big earrings chiming together and a smile perpetually on her face.
Mon dejeuner
Then after having gone home to take a shower (il fait chaud!) I met up with ma girls. I got to Anna's, greeted by Reid, who was sporting a slight variation of red white and blue, including a backwards trucker hat (although admittedly it was from La Sorbonne, a French University...). Mandi arrived not much later, and Reid and I went to the nearest Monoprix to buy drinks while the others made burgers from scratch. Then we packed up all of our goods for a picnic along the Seine to celebrate our nation's independence/birthday/day of patriotism. It was delicious. Anna had made a green bean and summer squash salad to go with our burgers (which were far from being very American, served simply with a slice of tomato on a baguette, and all, but ça va), and to finish we had a lovely strawberry... tart? Cake? It wasn't quite a pie, by my definition. Definitely not like Derek's pies (family, you know what I'm talking about). Still, it was as American as it gets in Paris, and we were all happy to be together. (I'll post some pictures that Reid took, later. It was a bit much to have four cameras out). By principle we boycotted speaking in French for the evening, laughing as we shared silverware and stories. There was even a man across the river who was juggling and swallowing fire. Almost like fireworks? Almost. Happy birthday, America.
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