Let's talk...

# of cigarettes: just 1 so far. Not too bad.

# of hours it took me from the time I left my house until I reached my new apartment for the week: 21 hours

# of hours I slept in the last day: 3

# Times I've wondered if I really should have come all the way here by myself: a few

Today is my birthday. I am officially 26 years old. Ten years ago today my mother took me to London and Paris for my birthday and on the actual day--April 25th--we spent our first day in Paris. I remember that we had dinner at Les Bouquinistes, and the maitre de brought us champagne. That restaurant is still here, and although today marks my decade return, I sadly realized that I cannot afford to eat at the same restaurant, so I'll just have to commence my birthday night in some other way.

My best friend was suppose to be joining me here today. Unfortunately, US Airways screwed her over (due to the volcanic eruption in Iceland) and so here I am, alone in Paris on my birthday, while mon amie is stuck in Phoenix. So, the big question is, what does one do in one of the most famous cities in the whole world on her birthday...alone?

Well, before we ponder the many possibilities, I'd like to share with you what my surroundings look like. I am staying in an apartment--correction. A studio apartment, that is literally no larger than a dorm room. It has a tiny little couch against a wall--well, its not really a couch so much as a couple of cushions stacked upon each other. I'm sitting on the couch typing at the moment. To my immediate left is a giant window about 8 feet high or taller that opens up on to Rue Mazarine and looks down onto a cafe (Le Bistro Mazarine). In front of me not more than 3 feet away is the "kitchen" consisting of a microwave, two hot plates (the French love their hot plates!), a sink, and a small shelf above it. To the right of the sink is the bathroom with a shower and a toilet. Its about as large as an airplane bathroom. By the front door is a little desk and up the stairs is a bed (the stairs around directly behind the little desk to the immediate right of the small couch I'm sitting on). Its super tiny in here but with the enormous window that looks out on to the street who really needs anything larger? I also just happened to notice that all the clocks in here are behind by an hour. I thought it was a quarter to 7. It's actually a quarter to 8, which mean I really need to put on some makeup and decide what I want to do for dinner. Like the Italians, the Spaniards, and well, most of the Europeans for that matter, Parisians do not eat dinner at 5pm or 6pm like so many Americans do. Most restaurants don't even open for dinner until at least 7:00pm and they stay open well past midnight. However, since today is Sunday, I suspect that perhaps many people won't be eating at 11. So I think I'll plan to head out for dinner around 9. Oh, would you like to know another thing French people love? Military time. And really, it's actually quite sensible. None of this "am"/"pm" bs. But for those of us who refer to 13:00 as 1pm, it can be very challenging to calculate what 19:55 is (7:55pm by the way).

So, for tonight I think I'll walk down a few streets until I come across a restaurant that looks appealing (and they all do!) and then maybe I'll trudge through my old stomping grounds in the Latin quarter reminiscing on the good 'ole days 5 and a half years ago when I studied here and really had no idea what I was doing. It's always better sometimes I think going back to a place older. It's the whole concept of "had I known then what I know now." There's a reason that cliche saying is out there: it's always true.