I love Paris in the winter, when it drizzles.....

Per Facebook:
"Paris..... it is already grey, and I have already been yelled at by one old man. But I just witnessed a group of six other older men in suits (awww yeah!) who proceeded to do shots of espresso and then hit on me in French (and then translate for me to English when they realized I had no idea what they were saying), so I think I will like this place after all. :)"

I am not certain if it is the city that makes me feel this way, or my host Elvis, or both, but I am truly mesmerized by Paris. The city somehow gets a bad rap as far as the people being rude or cold, etc., but my experience is the exact opposite. Plus, NYC has that same reputation in America, and it too is false. Or perhaps I am one of the assholes, because I fit in quite well and in every case, people have been accommodating and sweet and hilarious. In addition, nearly every conversation has taken a bit of an inappropriate turn, which is completely appropriate to me. There is something funny about how some things translate, and in almost every case I have been able to speak English the entire time. Some are more self-conscious than others about their English, but I am not the judgmental type, they soon find out, and we all proceed to enjoy conversation and lots of ridiculous laughter.

Per Facebook:

"It is cloudy/foggy in Paris. I love it."
"Funny. I find my little destination place in Paris, and "Walking in Memphis" is playing on the stereo. Hilarious. Like I am not far from home at all. Also - turns out, I look French. I fit in here. Well, kinda..... :)"

"Get to see Elvis Buckwalter and Richie Bush (both from Manitou) today/tonight. Blast from the past, in Paris!"
"Having the best time in Paris. Uploading pics at some point tomorrow. This place is nothing short of magical and everyone is fantastically nice. I am so lucky that I am currently surrounded by people who are actually interested in practicing their English, so therefore I don't have to 'practice' my French.. I know a total of 20 words, if that. Sad, but true. Tomorrow I venture out on my own without amazing Elvis."
"Really don't ever want to leave Paris. Felt the same way about Prague. Something about these two places cling to me like a deep longing; an ache. So odd, because I can't speak the language in either place. Essentially, I am an outsider, but still this feeling persists. More blogging on the way....."

Seeing Richie Bush (Richard, as he now is called), was a definite highlight of the trip. He hasn't really changed a bit since seeing him last. Sure we have all gotten a bit older, but our rapport is identical to where we left off. Catching up with him and hearing about his amazing job and life was fantastic! He really has a great thing going, and is living in Cognac, France. His job allows him to travel a great deal, and he happened to be returning home through Paris the same day that I got into town! So we ended up going to an art gallery opening (lots of really cool, processed photo prints of nude people - awwww yeah!), and got to meet the artist. And then, we went to Elvis' house for a party later that evening.

Elvis, my host, is perhaps one of the kindest men. We randomly have both high school (Manitou Springs, CO) and college (Northfield, MN) in common, though we never really knew each other that well. In high school, I had no idea who he was, as a senior dealing with my own issues and attempts to escape CO for good. In college, also a senior, I was student teaching or just generally freaking out about what was next in life after the stupid madness of being a music major at St. Olaf College. I remember he contacted me once he was on campus. I vaguely remember a lunch or coffee or something along those lines back in the day. But I never brought him into my crazy senior world because he was still so young that I didn't want to corrupt (I am sensing a bit of a theme - read Barcelona).

Now he is an adult with way more education than I (2 BAs, 2 MAs and a PhD), which makes him and his brain immediately sexy as hell to me, but I will restrain myself from making a pass at him (haha!) because he is my host and I am supposed to be on this journey for M-E, not M-E-N. And yet, Paris has also cast its spell.

Paris is magical. You would think the lack of color used in buildings would make it seem cold, and it does. But I, too, subscribe to being colorless with my white skin and black clothing every day. To me, I find this to be a clean palate. In my case, I have a very colorful personality which needs the toning down of clothing. Over the years, I realized that wanting it or no, I pulled attention to myself. When I was younger (high school, college) I would probably subconsciously want this attention. It was perhaps a cry for help; for something I was missing - love, nurturing, support, and yes, attention. But still I preferred to hide under black clothing because it expressed me the best. My friends often laugh when they look in my closet - a series of black clothes with an occasional pop of color.

Well Paris' color palate is largely grey, and the people also wear a lot of black (like NYC), which gives it a platform that doesn't compete with its personality. It makes the colors that exist "pop." The art in this city is one such color, the nature, another, and the architecture still another. And then, there are the people, who prefer to blend until...... until they are sitting around a table for raclette (which apparently they have nearly every day here!), or for wine or coffee or tea. That is when the color begins to flow. 

In this way, I find life infinitely more interesting. I am no longer one to find the outrageous and obvious colors that life can offer as interesting as the ones you can discover along the way. When framed by normalcy and clean lines in the background, the colors begin to really shine in all their glory.

This is the closest way for me to describe Paris. Aside from the pictures...... :)