WTF, Paris. Still Love You, Tho.

Bonjour!

Today is our last full day in Paris. The time has gone by too fast.

But, guys… Saturday? Madness. The majority of the Paris rioters usually convene around the Champs-Élysées, which is in the eighth arrondissement. Our hotel is also in the eighth arrondissement. I had no idea the extent of these riots. I mean, look at this:

I was marginally worried that they would decide to come into the hotel and start rioting, but the staff told us not to worry about that, that they wouldn’t. And the staff didn’t seem to be too worried about it, so I tried to put it out of my mind and just enjoy the hotel.

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I also had a facial, which was lovely and my skin looked great afterward, but–I was also bankrupt afterward. Ah, well. It kept my mind off being possibly dragged from the hotel by rioters and beaten to death in the streets!

On Sunday everything was calm again. The streets were clean and people were out strolling to bakeries and such. Kinda like nothing had ever happened, which was a complete mindfuck. But midday, I decided to go out and re-join the city, too.

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Ladurée

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Yesterday, we went to the Christmas market in Tuileries Garden and the catacombs. I also found a New Year’s Eve dress, and I can’t wait to tell everyone on New Year’s Eve that my dress is from Paris. I mean… It’s from Zara, but Zara in Paris. Gonna be pretty insufferable, I must warn you.

Today I went out in search of a home decor item that I could bring back and look at every day (and also tell all my visitors that it’s Parisian), and I found it. I’ll show it to you later after I’ve had a chance to take some really good pictures of it!

Alright–I’ve only got about 18 hours left to enjoy the best city in the world.

À bientôt !

C’est Moi

Guys, I’m so tired.

I’m out here going to bed at four in the morning, dancing on balconies, waking up at six-thirty to try to take pretty pictures of the sunrise. Basically living my life like a thirteen-year-old on summer break forgetting that, of all my friends, I was the one who needed the most sleep when I was thirteen. I’ve got about two full days in me without sleep before a meltdown is imminent. But, like…having a meltdown in Paris? A French meltdown?! I can’t even be mad at that.

I’ve got things to do and see, so I can’t have a meltdown. That’s why I took a nap a few hours ago that I’m just waking up from, and I feel brand new. But maybe I’ll go to bed by midnight tonight, just in case.

Maybe.

Today we went to take a look at the Ritz Carlton because we were curious if we’d chosen the prettiest hotel in Paris. The Ritz was opulent and glamorous and luxurious. But I still think the Four Seasons is prettier–more modern decor, which I like. We may go to the Mandarin Oriental tomorrow to see what their hotel looks like during Christmas. I’m dying to know. But across the board, I can say the French know how to do Christmas. I’m in awe of every single Christmas setup I see here. I couldn’t even begin to think up, let alone create, some of this stuff. It’s stunning.

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I also went to a few pharmacies today. A pharmacy in France is where they sell a bunch of skin care products. I mean–french moisturizers? I felt like I had won the lottery, kids. While I was in the second pharmacie I visited, another customer asked me what products I use and what my French skin care regimen was.

Let me repeat that.

Another customer asked me what products I use and what my French skin care regimen was.

A tourist thought I was French. A tourist thought that my skin looks like it’s on a French skin care regimen.

OOOMMMMMGGGGG. Day made. Call Macron and ask him to sign my citizenship papers. I’ve met the necessary criteria.

Later, I was reunited with my loyal and steadfast friend:

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Yesterday I went to Hermès just to bear witness to some extravagant French luxury.  Saw a handbag for thirty thousand dollars and was, like…

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Alright, I’m on my way to eat dinner. It’s 9:30pm. I’m sooooo fucking French.

Bisous !

Paris, Je t’adore

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We made it to Paris tonight! I was tired and dirty when we landed, which would have sent me running to my hotel immediately for a shower and a nap under normal circumstances, but… I’M IN PARIS! THERE WILL BE NO SLEEP! But, don’t worry–there will be showers.

It’s a little rainy and cloudy right now, but I’m going out to sing in the streets, take pictures, and somehow pretend to be Parisian while I’m doing those things. Gonna fool all the natives. That’s my goal. We’ll see how long I can go before I’m found out. I’ve got a big day planned tomorrow, so I hope it stops raining. But, if not, I’ll just get wet! Alright, kids, Paris beckons.

Maybe if I have the energy tomorrow night, I’ll come back here with some pictures.

Bisous !

October

Life Tip: Do not binge-watch The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix, then go to a haunted house, then re-watch Paranormal Activity if you ever want to sleep again. I made that mistake yesterday. Still awake. Still a wreck.

Every October it becomes clear to me that I’m still the same eight-year-old who confidently and defiantly claimed that “scary movies/stories/haunted houses don’t scare me anymore” and the same eight-year-old who begged to sleep in her mom’s bed afterward. This is who I am. I’ll never change.

But it’s October, and haunted houses and horror movies are mandatory. I don’t make the rules. You know what else happens in October? The silly debate over whether candy corn is disgusting or not. And I think we can all agree that candy corn is disgusting–but in a wholly delicious way and if you don’t like it, you’re probably a serial killer or some other kind of horrible person, and I will be suspicious of you until the end of time.

If you live in/near Atlanta, you should check out Netherworld Haunted House. I go almost every year, and every time it’s still so f#$king terrifying! I mean–I’m a chicken so it doesn’t take much, but still. Highly recommend! Also watch The Haunting of Hill House, because it is phenomenal.

This Friday I’m going to Six Flags for Fright Fest and then maybe another scary movie, so I’ve stocked my place with enough wine to put a horse to sleep. And marshmallows. And candy corn. Like I said before, I don’t make the rules.

What I Did Do

I read four books this quarter. I didn’t even complete half of my goal of ten books. But, you know what I did do?

I hung out with my closest friends. I behaved like I was ten years old. I leaped off boats under a scorching sun and into cool waters. I made juvenile jokes and laughed at them myself. I drank Shiraz and woke up at eleven in the morning with pounding headaches. I drank champagne and woke up at eleven in the morning with pounding headaches. I drank rosé all day. I went to sleep when the sun came up. I forgot sunblock when I went stand-up paddle-boarding and didn’t worry once about crow’s feet. I made my friends laugh and got sore stomach muscles from laughing at their jokes. I skipped the mani and pedi. I spent twenty minutes on my winged eyeliner and eye shadow. I went four consecutive days without checking the news. I wore six-inch heels. I walked barefoot on wet grass and hot sand. I ate authentic Italian food and saw centuries-old art. I spoke in French. I cried. I volunteered. I committed. I swam at midnight. I ran at dawn. I test-drove a Lamborghini. I sailed a boat.

I did all the things you can’t do while you’re reading ten books.

The Salt Water Cure

Several years ago I had a private blog that I used to share with only a small number of people. It was called Kristin’s A Jerk, so you can probably imagine some of the things I would write.  I would vent to my friends about whatever was pissing me off at work, at home, at the grocery store. I used strings of vulgarities, plotted practical jokes, and derided people for frequently misspelling words on Facebook. I miss it.

Not only because I can’t write about the idiots I encounter daily, but because I miss being able to write about all the things/people that gave me the most joy, the times that I have been broken and the people who put me back together, the times I have been lost and scared, and the times I have been so happy I thought I would burst wide open.

If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a big share-er. I’m okay sharing anger and incredulity with people all day, but that’s about as far as it goes. I don’t even know what my point is except that I miss writing that way. Maybe one day I just won’t care and I’ll be like,  “I have all the feels and I’m not afraid to share all the feels with you!” I mean, I doubt it. But stranger things have happened.

I will say, though, that things have been trying lately so I took a quick vacation so as to prevent future gray hairs. I went to the beach, which is very unlike me. I don’t like most things about the beach during summer. Sun beating down directly on my skin? Kill me now. Birds flying over my head ready to shower me with poop at any moment? This is not okay. Sand burning my feet? Nope. None of that makes a good time.

BUT at night, I love the beach. I find it very peaceful and beautiful and soothing. The sunsets, the stars, the sounds. Those things just can’t be beat. So during the day I stayed indoors, refused to put on pants, drank lemon drops, ate croissants, and napped. And at night I grudgingly put on pants, drank more lemon drops, took pictures of the beach, stared at stars (I’m obsessed with stars), and made up dumb jokes and laughed at all of them (I’m my own biggest fan).

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It was a good escape and just what I needed.

Although, returning to real life where pants are required can be quite shocking to your system.

Snowy Vacations

Every single day for the last two weeks I’ve heard someone going on and on about Stranger Things. That it’s so great. That it’s so amazing. That I have to watch it. Look, I watched it. I didn’t love it. Kanye shrug.

I will, however, admit that I’ve been egregiously mistaken about Game of Thrones. HOW HAVE I BEEN SO WRONG?! I was forced to watch the first season, and two episodes in I was hooked. I’m a convert. No matter how late it is when I get home, I have to watch at least one episode.

So… Stranger Things–meh. Game of Thrones–yes. And the jury is still out on the new Frank Ocean. I’m leaning toward yes, but can’t commit yet.

It has just now occurred to me that maybe you don’t care what I think about any of those things?

Here’s something else…

I’m saving for a winter vacation. Don’t know where yet. But definitely somewhere cold and snowy where I can make snow angels during the day and burrow under thick, soft blankets at night. Doesn’t that sound like a dream? Add snowboarding, hot chocolate, marshmallows, wine, and a Scrabble board and now we’ve got a party. A pretty tame party, but still–my kind! Also, old school Chucky movies. Because it’s not winter until you watch a Chucky movie, am I right?

I know I am.

Anyway, this vacation is my top savings priority (also my robot vacuum–lest we forget).  Gonna be eating a lot of rice & beans dinners and driving sadly past Starbucks without stopping during the day. It’s okay. I’m up for it.