Je ne parle pas francois...

It is quite the experience trying to survive in a non english speaking country. I have learned the art of the "point and grunt" method to get my meals, but have come far enough to know "un croissant plus un café creme s'il vous plait" will get me what i want. man cannot survive on bread alone, but a little coffee and chocolate to go along with it usually does the trick. we have almost made the rounds of all paris has to offer--the Louvre (round 2 is tomorrow), notre dame, and the eiffel tower have all been conquered, and we're not done yet. its quite upsetting to be blinded by flash photographers while looking at van Gogh and de la Croix (and also while sitting in mass during communion...) but braving the throngs of art-illiterate tourists is usually worth the battle. And although I've been told to expect haughty glances and rude answers from Parisians when they hear my poor excuse of an accent, I've actually found everyone to be friendly, kind and very understanding of my foreign incapabilities. Sure, they're probably hiding their real sentiments beneath the surface, but if i just continue to keep up my oblivious naiveté, none's the worse for wear, right? Paris has adapted beautifully to the influx of tourists every year and will continue to do so, especially since George Bush's days are numbered.