Though I sadly said goodbye to A this morning, I've happily begun my solo-travels with a trip to Marseille. My interest in this city originally came from a comment I heard during the rioting in 2005: because it is on the ocean, there is no room for the marginalization that creates "les cités" that can be found outside of Lyon or Paris. Thus, it is a far more integrated community than most other big cities in France. I'm discovering that myself, with hostel-managers who come from any country BUT France! This is great for me, since I seem to feel more comfortable speaking French with these non-native speakers.
But, before A left, we spent two glorious days in Paris, devoting the first to wandering the streets and the second to museums. Activites included: (1) splitting a beer on the steps of Sacre Coeur; (2) finding an urban vineyard in Montmartre, from which 850 bottles of wine are captured each year, and auctioned off for charity; (3) appreciating Winged Victory but skipping Mona Lisa; (4) using newly acquired GRE vocabulary at every opportunity (Nonplussed does not mean what we have taken it to mean our entire lives, or, in a sentence that sounds redundant but is, in fact, not: "The Mona Lisa leaves some people feeling nonplussed, and strangely underwhelmed."); (5) finding a cool street artist from Chile who sold us gorgeous earrings; (6) enjoying chocolate fondue under the watchful eye of a serenading waiter; (7) trying not to break, stain, touch or breathe on any of the amazingly pricey items in Louis Vuitton; and (8) marveling at the challenging and wonderful exhibition elles@centrepompidou.
Now, off to appreciate some bouillabaisse and spend some time imitating Julia Child, at least in my head.
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