I know I'm not a typical Parisian, but do I stand out like a sore thumb? I'm sitting in the park by our place, in one of Paris' "Paris WiFi" (pronounced "pa-ree wee-fee") spots, as advertised on the front of the park's gate, while mothers play with their kids on the playground, old folks take a rest, guys play ping-pong and pigeons search for some grub. Normally, just sitting in the park wouldn't merit blatant stares of curiosity, but I've got this big, dinosaur-like laptop with me that I'm typing away on while sitting on this park bench. They're probably wondering what I'm doing in a park, outside, on my laptop. Those things just don't go together, I suspect, in their eyes. I wish I could ask them if I look strange, but I don't think I need to. I'm totally an outcast.

It could just be me, being paranoid like usual, but I'm not so sure this time. Even when I'm just walking to the grocery store to do some shopping or sitting on the metro alone, I feel like an outcast. It's like maybe they know I'm different, that I can't really hold a conversation with them the way I'd like to. Or, maybe it's not appropriate to give a small smile when I pass someone on the street or not turn my head when some dude yells, excusez-moi, mademoiselle in what sounds like a catcalling voice. I know I know I'm weird, but do they know, too? Back home I can get away with being weird and not letting anyone know...here, I think it'll take time for me to figure out a way to mask my weirdness. For now, I'll just carry on as the paranoid non-Parisian and go about my business looking for a place to fit in.

That's right, Gui and I are taking a train to Austin. No, it's not the Polar Express, but we booked tickets on the Amtrak Texas Eagle to get to Austin after spending a weekend in San Antonio. It's a real, live, breathing passenger train that serves the central Texas area! We thought we'd save ourselves the hassle of renting a car one-way and spare our friends or family a boring drive from Austin to pick us up, as well as be conscious of our ecological footprint by sticking to public transportation. Plus, it's so much nicer to have someone else in charge of the driving.

When Gui first asked me if we could take a train to Austin from San Antonio, my cynical American response was, "yeah right." But, lo and behold, there actually is a train in Texas that transports more than cattle and horses! With the rising cost of gas (I heard it's something like $3.78/gallon on average today), it's worth taking a look to see if Amtrak serves the places you're traveling to around the States - our tickets were only 15 bucks a piece (less than gas would have been). The only downside to our ride is that we'll have to leave super early in the morning (luckily, the best tacos in San Antonio are available 24-hours, so we'll be stopping by at 5 a.m to scoop some up), and there's only one departure per day. Maybe with all the demand for public transport in the States, they'll finally put into place the so-called Texas T-Bone Corridor that would connect some Texas cities by rail and make taking the train more convenient for travelers. Or, maybe I've just become a silly, optimistic European already.

So, I've started a list. A list of things I must bring back from Texas. They mostly consist of sauce or other bottled and jarred goods that I can't easily (or cheaply) get here and that I'm already starting to miss or know it's only a matter of time. Besides the few bottles of yellow mustard (a la French's), peanut butter (especially with honey) and BBQ sauce, Guillaume and I are hoping to pick up a few household items we can't find here (or can't find cheaply). Most important, and perhaps most interesting on that list is the Roomba, which is sold in France, but for the not-so-bargain price of 300Euros (that's like $450!!). I've seen them as cheap as $200 at Target, and I hear Costco has 'em even cheaper. We'll have to find a plug converter, but I think it'll be worth saving a couple hundred bucks to get it in the States. I think every single friend we have owns a Roomba or two, so we know it's tried and tested. I just hope we don't get stopped at customs!

This weekend has been a crazy one. We managed to get a lot done, but at the cost of sleeping in late. Saturday was Ikea day, and after a bbq lunch with the family, we headed out to Thiais for what we hoped would be a new kitchen set-up, a bed and a couch. Ikea is insane. Much more so here than back in Texas. Everyone who works there is too busy to help you, and when you finally flag someone down to ask for help, they explain that the color you want is actually $300 more than than the beige one and whatever's on display or pictured in the catalog is actually not what you get, but instead some smaller version. I was super frustrated by the time we left and felt like we hadn't accomplished anything we had set out to, only returning with a bag of delicious Swedish cookies (which somehow eased my frustration a bit). That evening, we made a list of what we needed to get, from where and what our budget would be for everything.

Sunday was a much more productive day, and we managed to come away with a washing machine (we actually found it on Craigslist for a really awesome price), a stove and oven, and a refrigerator. We checked out a few couches, too, but didn't have much luck with finding one we liked, so we'll have to wait for next weekend to get that. The coolest part about our purchases is that the two biggest things (the stove and fridge) are going to be delivered to our 5th-floor apartment and installed by the delivery peeps. Score!

The best part of Sunday was hanging out in Montparnasse with Bertrand and Benjamin. We had a really great lunch on a tree-shaded terrace that lasted a few hours into the afternoon. The weather was ridiculously perfect, and we had a really lovely time catching up on each other's lives. It's pretty crazy that soon we'll all be back in France at the same time, talking about the visits we make to our counterparts in Austin. We should all have some sort of an agreement to visit each other once a year - trading off who visits who each year. Gui and I will start off with visiting Texas this year so next year it's up to you Texas folk to cross the pond (well, actually we have a plan to visit next year, too so maybe we'll start in 2010).

There are still a few things on our list of things to do before we officially move in on Thursday (it's strange that we have the keys to the place, but don't officially take over until the 15th), but we're hoping to have most everything taken care of by the weekend. This weekend is actually my birthday, but we'll be spending it doing what I hate doing the most - moving. It'll be a nice gift, though, to be able to sleep in our new place and start turning it into a home. I'll take some pics and upload them this week!

I've added more pictures from the wedding to the google album I started. Check out the second half of the album if you've already viewed the first half.

Gui and I accomplished so much today. It was yet another day off for him, and poor guy didn't even get to sleep in this morning. There was too much to do! Around 9:15 we headed to the Champs-Elysees to sign the documents for our new flat!! Yes, we're proud key-holders of a very lovely apartment in Boulogne-Billancourt, just southwest of the peripherique. Let me just say that getting an apartment in Paris is NOTHING like getting one in the States. It seriously felt like I was signing a mortgage, not a lease. We had to initial every single page of a nearly 50-page packet of documents three times so we could have three originals. And on top of paying a deposit and the first month's rent, we had to fork over nearly 900 euros for a stupid placement fee...yeah, money that we'll never see again that's going to pay this woman who's giving my hand a cramp. I think it's ludicrous, but I guess that's how they roll here. After signing our lives away ('seems like we're doing that a lot lately), we swung by our new pad to check the place out; the las time we were there, the floors were covered with plastic and the place was getting a fresh coat of paint causing the entire floor to stink of turpentine. This time, it was in a lovely state - the floors are really nice and we discovered a few things that we hadn't really paid much attention to before - like the nice mirrors on the hallway wall and the small but very functional window in the bathroom. I think we'll be happy here for a while.

After a tried and failed attempt to take a short nap, we rushed over to the prefecture (administrative offices for the town) to get a clear understanding of what we needed to start the carte de sejour process. It was a pretty hysterical moment for me - facing the reality of all the stories I'd read about this process. It was almost as if a dream I'd been having for so long was turning into a very real and tangible situation...the administrator was just as I'd pictured - wearing an armpit-stained shirt and a hellish scowl across her face. To begin with, we didn't have a number because the number dispenser was dispensing tickets that said they were closed. Luckily, Gui's mom came with us (she does this for a living, so we wanted her input) and she told us to just go to the first floor and wait in line. We found the line that wasn't calling numbers and stood in it. When the window became available, the woman asked us what we needed and then asked if we had a number. Of course we didn't have one (and she knew damn well that they weren't handing them out), but when she spotted a crumpled ticket that said service fermé, she picked it up and said "oh, ok, there's your ticket, now go ahead, what do you need?" So, after she proved her point (that we need to have a ticket, even if it's not a ticket at all, but we need to at least appear to have tried to take a ticket before even thinking about coming to her window), we proceeded with requesting the information about the cds. We had no intention of doing anything but picking up a list of required documents for our next meeting, but she made it clear that she was going to examine all the things she requested (my passport, Guillaume's identity card, our marriage certificate) before doing anything else or answering anymore questions. After looking over our stuff, and not saying much, she finally said, "You've got an appointment, so you'll need to bring the following documents with you to that appointment." No mention of the date, time or location of the appointment, but just that we got one! When we inquired more about this elusive rendezvous, she simply said it was "Thursday at 3pm." Gui can't just leave work whenever he wants, so he asked if he could pick the date and time. That's when she clarified that the appointment was scheduled for 3 months from now - Thursday, August 1st. So, we left it at that, took the paperwork that shows what we need to bring back in August (and is required for me to travel to and from France until then), and went on our way. That's when she finally gave a toothy grin and asked us to have a nice day. I guess it just takes some time for French folks to warm up to you.

Well, that was our day today. We tried to take care of some banking business, but were only able to schedule an appointment for the end of the month...better than nothing. Tomorrow's another early day - we get to check out our wedding photos (yay!!) and start some furniture shopping at Ikea (double-yay!!). We still have so much to do, but the important stuff is at least on the right track towards accomplishment! Things are looking peachy.

Can I start out by first saying that OMG, that was a LONG, BORING, TIRING flight, and what in the world was I thinking when I decided to save $500+ by making two connections - one in a totally different country - instead of one?

So, my flight out of DFW was canceled, which I thought for a second would mean the cancellation of my entire voyage. There we were, sitting in line on the tarmac, when the pilot informs us that we are 22nd in line to use the runway. 22nd!! My mind starts to calculate the time in my head...22 times at least 3 minutes per plane to take-off, plus an additional minute or 2 to taxi there...whoa...that's like at least an hour and a half, yo! I patted myself on the back at that moment for allowing myself a 3-hour layover in Philadelphia to make my flight to London. I'll have plenty of time...I'm brilliant! Ten minutes later, the captain comes on again and says, "Folks, I've got some bad news..." which, of course, provokes an inward sigh from the entire plane. "I've been flying for over 16 hours now, and FAA regulations only permit me to fly [some-odd number] of hours , and waiting here will push me beyond my allowed flying hours, so we're going back to the gate"...and outward sighs/moans/expletives commence. I stay pretty calm, knowing that I can always try to reschedule my flight, but as my brilliant self booked an entirely different carrier from London to Paris, I was pretty much stuck with taking that flight and knew my options were limited with changing it. So, I check the numbers on the boarding pass card that I usually toss in the trash, and give US Airways a ring while we head back towards the gate. My quick thinking pays off and I get a flight out of Dallas just 2 hours later and avoid the mad, angry rush for the gate when we get back, as passengers try to frantically get to their destinations. I feel a little guilty for my wily move, but nonetheless content. I'm still praying that my flight makes it to Philly in time to catch my next flight - this new flight from DFW will only give me 40 minutes to make it to my London flight on time - and that's if there are no further delays!

It's a miracle, but we somehow made it to Philadelphia with nearly one hour to spare before my next flight. I even had time to make a desperately-needed pit stop to release my ginger-ale-filled bladder and had time to cool off at the gate before piling onto the 80s-inspired vessel.

Arriving in London was another story...I had to go through customs, get my luggage and get on and off a train before checking into my flight. The new and (thankfully) improved Terminal 5 was beautiful. I couldn't help but fall in love with the Chanel, Tiffany, Dior and Starbucks-lined halls and wonderful assortments of food-stands and restaurants. I had just enough time to grab a bite (dumplings and japanese rice) at Wagamama, which I hadn't visited since my first trip to London more than 5 years ago. The weather was perfect, too - at least mid-70s, bright and sunny.

So, 4 planes, a train, a coach and 27 hours later, I made it to Paris. It was a great day in the city - people were people-watching, sipping coffee on the terrace, couples were making out on a bench in the park and tired business folks were resting in the grass and soaking up the sun. Ah, Paris.

Thursday's a holiday, Friday is a bridged holiday and Monday is another holiday, so Gui and I are planning to spend some time in the city, taking in the amazing weather and doing things that Parisians do. I'm happy to be home!

...especially compared to Paris! I finally got out of the house today when I took a trip to the local Kroger for some peach pie, Blue Bell vanilla ice cream, and other various necessities my mom needed to replenish. I'm heading home to Paris tomorrow and the nostalgia set in as I pushed in the industrial-sized shopping basket toward the produce and bakery sections. It's so nice to know where everything is in a grocery store, or to at least have an idea of where to find it. And So. Many. Choices!

Anyone who knows me, knows that I love to grocery shop. LOVE IT! It's so much fun walking up and down the aisles, dreaming of the delicious dishes that might make it into my belly from the plethora of ingredients in this 30,000+ square foot box. And, after spending some time shopping at Monoprix, Franprix and Auchan over the past few months, it sure does feel so great to leisurely push around a cart in a wide-open space where other customers smile and politely excuse themselves for having their cart slightly more than halfway into the aisle you're trying to get through. Not to mention the oh so pleasant odors of freshly-baked bread and cakes that hit your nostrils just as the big, sliding glass doors swoop open. Kroger is no Trader Joe's, but it was still able get me excited about grocery shopping again. I think I'll have to dig a little deeper than my neighborhood Monoprix back in Paris to get that feeling when I'm back, and after doing a little searching, I'm anxious to check this place out. And this one, too.