I want you to shriek that title when you read it.
Because even as I am typing the rest of it, I imagine that I am still internally screaming.
I have always been fascinated with France and everything french (think more along French toast than French kiss) and it is a bucket list input to live a year of my life here. It is still W.I.P to determine what year that would be.
My visit started from the small towns and graduated to the major league. I do not exaggerate when I say my body knew the exact moment we arrived France. I had flown to Brussels and took a bus to Lille, where I would be meeting my friends. I’d been snoozing and certainly jerked up. Adjusted light sensitivities and glasses later, I read the first road sign that confirmed that I was indeed “home”.
While the visit has been nothing short of wonderful thanks to my Parisian and Lillian hosts, it had a life lesson lurking.
Like all great romances, France wasn’t perfect. The metro stations had a smell the Milanese stations I had grown used to didn’t have. In Paris, there were demonstrations and protests disrupting the order of things. Routes were inaccessible and public transport shut out the affected routes, which were popular tourist destinations.
It cost me my walk along Champs-elysee. My Louvre moments. The possibility of a French kiss on the Seine Bridge.
On the bright side, I was on the bridge replaying the dunk scene from Inception in my head. And I WENT TO DISNEYLAND.
Disneyland is a fantasy I hadn’t even considered. It was enough consolation for all the disillusions past. I didn’t know how to behave. Singing along to the overhead music, gasping at beautiful things, or pointing and laughing at adults playing dress up (& I don’t mean Disney staff).
I even got me an Edna Mo keyring!!
Since my brief stint in Europe, my sister, Fatima, has taunted me with: picture or we don’t believe you. Lucky for all of us, I have “a” picture to share
Love & Laughter,
Ps- is it necessary for me to reiterate that I will come again?