I traveled over with four other girls and all of our honeys were waiting for us at the airport. When we landed, it was 3:30am our time and most of us hadn't slept very well on the flight over. But adrenaline is a funny thing, as is love, because I didn't feel so tired anymore once I saw my guy.
The next few hours went a little something like this:
Reunite. Try to figure out how to get into the city. Buy train tickets. Get on the train. Listen to a man perform a song for us. Switch from the train to the metro. Get off the metro right in the middle of the Champs-Elysees. Navigate the sidewalks and alleyways with gigantic suitcases that scream AMERICAN! on our way to our hotel. Hand our bags over and go out in search for lunch while they get our room ready.
We found a cute little cafe just around the corner and ordered lunch. It was then that I realized just how unbelievably tired I was. By that point, I'd been awake for over 24 hours and could barely participate in basic conversation. It wasn't pretty.
We finished lunch and headed back to the hotel for a power nap. After that and a shower, I was refreshed and ready to go! We wandered around and did some exploring before finding dinner at a bistro that was so good that I came back with the girls a few nights later. We caught up on the last two weeks and enjoyed a leisurely meal together without the interruption of a certain toddler or the Navy. It was beautiful.
The French do meals differently than we do - it's slow and spaced out and amazing. There's no rush, there's no leaving the table stuffed because you ate three courses in 45 minutes, there's no impatience while waiting for the check. You're forced to enjoy the time and the meal and we really enjoyed that.
And that was that. We turned in early, determined to get a good night's rest before our first and only full day together. It was a short trip, but it sure was sweet...
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