There are a thousand posts that should, and with any luck/discipline will, come before this one, retroactively.
For instance, “April in Salt Lake City” doesn’t normally come with its own song, except for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsal we accidentally stumbled on. However, it’s where the dreamlike state began in our British Airways’ First Class pods (a first for us!), so there are two posts in the queue right there.
And then there’s the post that will be called, “Finding Your Paris Apartment with a Misnamed Door In A Foreign Language, With a Sweet Cab Driver Who Speaks No English at Eleven at Night, in The Dark Because You Can’t Identify A French Light Switch.” This will be a particular favorite of mine.
Extreme inline skating aeronautics, how to buy a multi-day Paris museum pass (and why you might not want to), and why Boursin cheese is such a great calorie deal…
These will all wait for another time.
Maybe I’ll get to them on the flight home. Or not.
Today, it was a mildly hallucinogenic experience with three big takeaways, the first two thanks to the phenomenon known as “le jet lag.
Yes, this is a multiple-choice option. You can either go with “package-ladened European swallow dad,” or, “white-haired, red-scarved Parisian cafe sitter in April.”
The “Jet-Lag Cafe” was purely coincidental.
I’m pretty sure.
2. When in Paris and completely under the influence of le jet-lag, choose a companion who is a head or two taller than most of the local inhabitants, extremely handsome from all aspects, and readily identifiable in a crowd. And then ask him to wear the chic burnt orange sweater that you gave him for Christmas.
3. Even if it feels a little chilly when you head out in the morning to mosey around the city, wear sunscreen on your upper chest.
See?! Who foreign said travels were difficult?