The Champs-Elysees at night. The Ferris Wheel at the Place de la Concorde is visible in the background.

Thursday. Thanksgiving 2014. I am very grateful to be in Paris regardless, but I am also thankful to be away from all the drama in the States. Chuck Hagel was forced to resign as Defense Secretary—I wonder what that means for my situation. (He was enlisted in the U.S. Air Force.) Seems like a lot of plot points are changing – like Connie Stinson – oh, excuse me – the REVEREND DR. Connie Stinson – resigning from the D.C. Baptist Convention before she became its president. Enquiring minds want to know!

I’ve used the day so far to plan what else I will do, making sure I make the most of free/almost free things. There is a still a lot I’d like to do, but I’m being mindful of going to London for a day or two. I’m not really looking forward to it. I love being here. I love the French people and everything about their culture…I am truly in heaven. It isn’t that I haven’t had a bad or unpleasant experience here; it’s that an unpleasant experience here is easier to tolerate.

I need to see if I can print and/or redo my CV and apply to a few places, perhaps at Sephora, and of course, to teach English. The computers at Plug-Inn Hostel will only print .pdf documents. I’m not going to plan my trip to London much, except for what I will say on my placard at Buckingham Palace.

I believe one reason French people are more physically fit than Americans is because they savor food. When you eat slow, you eat less.

Rick Steves says that American ex-pats in Paris during the holidays all tend to go to a shop named Thanksgiving to get cranberries and boxes of stuffing on Thanksgiving Day. (Nothing like a little solidarity on an American holiday.) I thought of going there just to be part of the excitement and to see other American ex-pats. I decided, instead, to have a Thanksgiving meal after all. I went to Le Basilic again (4^th time!) and had veal with green beans in mushroom sauce, a glass of Pinot Noir, coffee and chocolate mousse. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Le Basilic should be at least a 3-star restaurant, it is soooooooooo good. And who can complain about the service? They check in with me from time to time to see if I need anything else while allowing me to enjoy the experience. As Rick Steves says, once you get a table for dinner at a restaurant in Paris, it is essentially yours for the night. Tips are included in the bill, so there’s no rushing you out the door. It also makes for more relaxed servers: they know they’re getting paid. The U.S. should adopt this philosophy with servers.

I purchased a black cape similar to this one in Paris. When a woman feels elegant, she carries herself elegantly.

I decided to buy the cape I saw, since it has been a lifelong dream to buy a cape in Paris since I first saw one at Garfinckel’s so many years ago. I love it!!! I feel so feminine in it!! And my Cache pants fit! It was a magnificent night, probably around 57 degrees Fahrenheit. I LOVE the energy of Paris at night. People feel so alive: it’s in their faces and their body language. Many people are with their significant other. Love is in the air. The lights are beautiful. I didn’t want to go back to the hostel, I wanted to feel that energy from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and in my bones.

I love the energy of Paris at night.

Finally, my bones said, “Enough already! We need some sleep!” So I took the metro and went back to Plug-Inn Hostel. I crawled into bed with a huge smile on my face.

Salut !

Image of Champs-Elysees and restaurant by Can Stock Photo. Image of Vintage Black Cape by CastawayVintage, Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Image of energy of Paris at night by Elsa L. Fridl.

Wednesday. I woke up feeling happy. I savored breakfast, had a shower, and simply started to walk. I walked for a mile or two taking pictures and enjoying the moment; and, once again, I followed signs and walked to Champs-Elysees, where I spent just a moment in Sephora to see how much Dior Skin costs. I found a cape I like at a nearby shop…oh my goodness…since working at Garfinckel’s (my store!), I’ve had a secret, life-long desire to buy a cape in Paris! I’ll have to think about it.

I ducked into McDonald’s to use the bathroom. Sometimes I feel a little like George Costanza, always knowing and thinking about where the public restrooms are. I was tired from walking again. I thought long and hard about whether I should buy the cape while I was on my way back to the hostel. I was too tired to exercise.

It pays to know where the McDonald’s restaurants are in Paris since they have public restrooms.

Salut !

Photographer image by Can Stock Photo. McDonald’s image on the Champs-Elysees by Shunsuke Kobayashi, Flickr, CCBY 2.0.

The Champs-Elysees at night. The Ferris Wheel at the Place de la Concorde is visible in the background.

Thursday. Thanksgiving 2014. I am very grateful to be in Paris regardless, but I am also thankful to be away from all the drama in the States. Chuck Hagel was forced to resign as Defense Secretary—I wonder what that means for my situation. (He was enlisted in the U.S. Air Force, as I was.) Seems like a lot of plot points are changing – like Connie Stinson – oh, excuse me – the REVEREND DR. Connie Stinson – resigning from the D.C. Baptist Convention before she became its president. Enquiring minds want to know!

I’ve used the day so far to plan what else I will do, making sure I make the most of free/almost free things. There is a still a lot I’d like to do, but I’m being mindful of going to London for a day or two. I’m not really looking forward to it. I love being here. I love the French people and everything about their culture…I am truly in heaven. It isn’t that I haven’t had a bad or unpleasant experience here; it’s that an unpleasant experience here is easier to tolerate.

I need to see if I can print and/or redo my CV and apply to a few places, perhaps at Sephora, and of course, to teach English. I’m not going to plan my trip to London much, except for what I will say on my placard at Buckingham Palace.

Food is to be savored in Paris.

Rick Steves says that American ex-pats in Paris during the holidays all tend to go to a shop named Thanksgiving to get cranberries and boxes of stuffing on Thanksgiving Day. (Nothing like a little solidarity on an American holiday.) I thought of going there just to be part of the excitement and to see other American ex-pats. I decided, instead, to have a Thanksgiving meal after all. I went to Le Basilic again (4^th time!) and had veal with green beans in mushroom sauce, a glass of Pinot Noir, coffee and chocolate mousse. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Le Basilic should be at least a 3-star restaurant, it is soooooooooo good. And who can complain about the service? They check in with me from time to time to see if I need anything else while allowing me to enjoy the experience. As Rick Steves says, once you get a table for dinner at a restaurant in Paris, it is essentially yours for the night. Tips are included in the bill, so there’s no rushing you out the door. It also makes for more relaxed servers: they know they’re getting paid. The U.S. should adopt this philosophy with servers.

I decided to buy the cape I saw, since it has been a lifelong dream to buy a cape in Paris since I first saw one at Garfinckel’s so many years ago. I love it!!! I feel so feminine in it!! And my Cache pants fit! It was a magnificent night, probably around 57 degrees Fahrenheit. I LOVE the energy of Paris at night. People feel so alive: it’s in their faces and their body language. Many people are with their significant other. Love is in the air. The lights are beautiful. I didn’t want to go back to the hostel, I wanted to feel that energy from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and in my bones.

I love the energy of Paris at night.

Finally, my bones said, “Enough already! We need some sleep!” So I took the Metro and went back to Plug-Inn Hostel. I crawled into bed with a huge smile on my face.

Salut!

Wednesday. I woke up feeling happy. I savored breakfast, had a shower, and simply started to walk. I walked for a mile or two taking pictures and enjoying the moment; and, once again, I followed signs and walked to Champs-Elysees, where I spent just a moment in Sephora to see how much Dior Skin costs. I found a cape I like at a nearby shop…oh my goodness…since working at Garfinckel’s (my store!), I’ve had a secret, life-long desire to buy a cape in Paris! I’ll have to think about it.

I ducked into McDonald’s to use the bathroom. Sometimes I feel a little like George Costanza, always knowing and thinking about where the public restrooms are. I was tired from walking again. I thought long and hard about whether I should buy the cape while I was on my way back to the hostel. I was too tired to exercise.

Salut.