The France Recap

For two weeks of 2010, I was genuinely happy and carefree. Being in France with Shane from Sept. 6th through the 20th was incredible in every way possible, from being able to hug and kiss at any time to getting lost on the streets of Paris to gorging on gouda. Lots of gouda.

Ah, where to begin. The first time we saw each other again, naturally.

Contrary to friends and family thinking he and I would both cry (more bets placed on me of course) at the sight of each other, such was not the case. As I walked into the arrival area, Shane was standing in the front of the crowd and all I could remember thinking was “Wow, this is it! That’s him!” The only way to really describe it is that it felt like I was seeing a celebrity. It felt unreal at first. Then it felt completely normal. We hugged, we kissed, we exchanged our money, we hopped into a cab. Ironically, “Born In the USA” was playing on the French radio.

We got to the place we were staying for the first eight nights, the New Orient Hotel. It was absolutely adorable, complete with a bottle of champagne waiting for us courtesy of Shane’s aunt. Needless to say, we didn’t leave the hotel until it was time for dinner. ;-)

That first night, we wandered the streets surrounding our hotel and ended up at a little Italian place where we each got pizza. Pizza! I can’t get a decent slice in Texas, but I can get an amazing personal size pizza thousands of miles away. Go figure.

The second day was Eiffel Tower Day. Also the day we snapped my favorite picture of the entire trip. (Ahem, see picture from last post or my current profile picture on facebook). We didn’t plan on seeing the Eiffel Tower that day, we just kind of started walking and eventually saw its peak and continued to follow it until we were at the base. Pretty fantastic.

Over the next few days, we hit up the tourist sights by day, and experienced Paris bars and clubs by night. In random order (because the details of France are blending into one giant cluster of AWESOME) we made it to the Catacombs, the Louvre, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triumph, the Invalidades, Sacre-Coeur Conciergerie, Pigalle (Paris’s red light district) Jardin de Luxembourg, and so much more.

At the Louvre

We usually made it out to start our day by 11am or noon, grabbed some poulet (chicken!) baguette sandwiches, and went exploring. We’d come back around 5-6pm and drink wine and eat cheese before finding a place to eat dinner.

At night, we went to a whole assortment of places. Among the notable were Harry’s New York Bar, a neat cocktail bar that sported banners of American schools on its walls. Unfortunately, I did not see a Rutgers one though. Anyway, at that place, we each had an absinthe cocktail and some other things I can’t recall. I don’t fully remember how that night ended. Must have been a good one.

One night we took a boat ride down the Seine River which provided an immaculate view of all of the city’s sights, most of which are illuminated at night. The Eiffel Tower sparkles on the hour every hour at night. It was absolutely beautiful. See what I mean?

Oh la la!

On the boat

Our night in Pigalle was amusing. Another not so clear evening, but nonetheless a fun one. Our night ended at some club where I remember hearing “Be My Lover” by the Spice Girls. Shane loved it and couldn’t stop singing to me.

Just kidding.

It was me singing.

That first week in Paris, I probably gained five pounds, not that I care. Between pizza, crepes, cheese, bread, poulet sandwiches, Indian, sushi, wine, crepes, quiche, chocolate, pastries, timtams, and whatever other random crap we decided we needed to consume, it was entirely worth every excessive calorie.

After eight nights in Paris, we hopped onto a train on the 14th and made our way to the French Riviera. The 5.5 hour ride was beautiful, going through the countryside, French alps, and eventually to the Riviera. We spent the time sharing the headphones to my mp3 player, talking, and napping.

Nice was nice, as I knew it would be. The second place we stayed, Hotel Gounod, was just four short blocks from the Mediterranean. We had just one good beach day, but that was good enough for us Jersey bred kids who hadn’t seen the ocean in more than a year. The beach in Nice (capital of the French Riviera) is made up of rocks rather than sand, which made for a fun walking experience into the water (not really). The people there were quite the sight. Men in speedos and women having the option to go topless made for the best people watching all trip. And hey, I can’t say I didn’t try out the French way of laying on the beach ;-) (Sorry Mom and Dad, I’ve got no shame!)

In Nice

We discovered a cool little hookah bar in Nice which had amazing mojitos. Mixed with mint hookah, it was a tasty time. On our third day in the Riviera, we took a train to Monaco, which was only a 20 minute ride away. It was absolutely picturesque, from the teal water to the floral landscaping virtually everywhere. Ferrari, Merecedes and Bentley logos lined the streets, while Shane and I appeared to be some of the youngest visitors to the place. The rich vibe had me worried that grabbing food would cost a fortune, but we found a little café by the harbor that we stayed at for the afternoon. A few mojitos later, we were a little tipsy and on our way back to Nice for another couple of nights. Ah, drinking mojitos in Monaco. Where’s the rewind button in life?

In Monaco, with the Monte Carlo Casino in the background

A night out in Nice

On Saturday the 18th, we were on a train again back to Paris. Shane fell asleep on my shoulder for about 20 minutes, but it was long enough for me to start thinking about how I’d have to say goodbye soon. I cried a little, but I blame it on Regina Spektor getting the best of me.

Our third hotel was by far my favorite. Located smack in the center of Paris a block from the Seine, Hotel Brittanique was adorably romantic. It was the perfect place to spend our last couple night together until Shane’s return. That night was our first actual serious miscommunication with the language barrier thing. Until our second to last night, the fact that neither of us spoke a lick of French didn’t seem to be a problem. Everyone we encountered spoke at least some English, save our waiter on this particular night at a French cafe. He knew enough English to say “No English” when we tried talking, so we went with pointing to things on the menu. Shane pointed at what he thought was some egg appetizer, but when a platter of assorted meats came out, it was clear this guy didn’t get it right. I think that night we experienced duck and liver. We’re still not sure, and I don’t think we ever want to know.

Our last day together, we just walked around a lot, buying an assortment of things and enjoying one another's company. I hardly slept that night, and immediately felt sick upon waking on the 20th. I held myself together until after we ate our final poulet sandwiches together at the airport. We started saying our goodbyes and giving each other pep talks and then I lost it. How could I get on a plane headed to Killeen having just spent two amazing weeks with Shane in France? It was hard. Not as hard as the first time back in January, but hard. Our final goodbye took place at the start of the security line. Shane stayed for most of the time I was stuck in the hour long line, standing about 20 meters or so behind me. We kept staring at each other, signing “I love you” as I continued to cry. And no, for anyone wondering, Shane did not cry. I have never seen him cry in fact. I’m hoping he does when he comes home for real though :-)

When Shane waved his final goodbye to me, I cried harder. I was slightly embarrassed that I was surrounded by people but my ultimate thought on the matter was “fuck these people.” I got onto the plane and fell asleep soon after takeoff. I awoke to my own snoring- you know, the kind where you let out a big, obnoxious “SNORT!” – throwing myself into consciousness again. I started laughing and turned to my side, looking for a Shane who would surely be on the verge of shitting himself with laughter. But no. I snap back to reality, and remember I am on a plane, moving further away from Shane by the second. (I neglected to mention that yes, I left Paris before Shane. He left a couple of days after. He spent the rest of his time shaving his crazy beard that formed in 2 weeks and catching up on sleep) Anyways, when the blunt reality hit me, my eyes began to well with tears just as the drink guy is standing to my side asking what I wanted. I somehow manage to hold back the growing lump in my throat and muster enough strength to say "diet coke, please.” I wanted off that plane so bad. I wanted it to turn around and fly me straight back into Shane’s arms. I was hurting bad. And I was only an hour into my flight at that point.

I survived the next nine hours, and eventually ended up back in Killeen that night, with Shane still in Paris. I was a mess, but a strong mess. It was comforting to know that it was the last time I'd have to say goodbye.

Soon after my return from my alternate reality which now already feels like a dream, I held onto the fact that there is only one more third of deployment to go. The final third. I think it’s something like 114 days until it was a year he left. That’s not awful, considering I started my countdown to France around this number of days.

So yes, France was amazing. My words and even my pictures don’t do it justice, but the memories will keep both me and him going. It was clear our love for each other has only grown and will continue to do so. France was totally worth the wait, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that I will be saying the same thing 3.5 months from now when he returns home for good. Until then, I've got pictures such as this one to stare at!

Oy. Are we there yet? Almost!