DAY 1: AirFrance (or AirFucks?)

Upon departure for France, I was greeted with a long-ass line. AirFrance proceeded to ignore my isle seat reservation and stick me in the middle row. What's French for "no fucking way!" I wasn't about to sit through an 11 hour flight sandwiched between some crying baby and sleazy yapper, so I negotiated with the guy at the boarding station to success.

Like the New Yorkers, the French have a bum rep. It's not so much that they are rude (like in any culture-we all have our individual assholes) but more impatient. I got lost debording in De Gaulle as I walked out some side door without going through customs or getting my luggage. I asked in my best French (and it got much better throughout my stay) two guards for directions, which they gave me half-assed, proceeding to mock me as I walked away. Finally went through customs only to walk out the door without my luggage. Much to my humility, I got a pass from the airline info desk (this apparently happens more often than you'd think) went back in and got my bag.

My shuttle was waiting with a very nice driver who proceeded to take us on the real Parisian version of Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. I've never heard as much annoying siren activity as in Paris, due to one of many inevitable strikes in effect. But I didn't care-it was beautiful, new and fabulous! The photos I took are black and white which I've always felt added to the aged romanticism of Europe.

My first day was at my hotel (this picture is the view from my room) and I ventured out, going to Notre Dame and exploring St. Germain. After it started to hail, I made my way back to the hotel and despite best efforts, fell asleep for many an hour.
Notre Dame is beautiful. There is a quiet hum as you enter and the stained glass sparkles down red and blue.