The French

I forgot how handsome the men are in Paris. And how well put together they all are. How am I so dumb? Not to mention how helpful they are when I am snapping French in my mouth. Tinder is not necessary here, let me assure you. AND THEIR HAIR! So thick. And the older the man, the more handsome he is. Have I mentioned their hair?!

Hi Momma Sumaya! CALL ME!

Jenn is the first non-family friend whom I am visiting. Lucky me, it is in Paris. Pulling this up from gratitude –  if it weren’t for T, I would have never met her and for this, I am so very grateful. ❤

Jenn feels like home. This is really the best way to describe this extraordinary woman. Her home itself, it is filled with Arabic art work and I might try to thieve a piece. By this, I mean just take many many photos of the same piece over and over again every time I walk past it, and sometimes even a selfie.

Oh! Before I forget. None of my trips have been planned, really. So Paris was originally on the books for possibly the summer. But then I decided otherwise, and popped over now, in January. Which is winter. With my suitcase from the desert. Where it is summer.

If I die of pneumonia, at least I’ll have eaten all of the cheese. Everyone send a prayer up for Jenn, who met me and my ridiculous suitcase with an extra jacket and mittens (Olympic! Canadian! Mittens!). See how everyone is dressed like an adult.

This is one of the many things I love about Paris, by the way – sitting next to your dinner partner, rather than across from them. I learned this here, at the age of 19, my first ever trip alone. It’s a lesson I carry with me still today; I always sit next to people, never elsewhere. It makes for more intimate conversation, and touch is lovely.

Now. Regarding all of the cheese, our afternoon was spent eating all of the cheese. So much of the cheese, in fact, that we couldn’t finish it all. I tried. But I simply couldn’t. Please enjoy this photo of much cheese –

On our way to the cheese, something quite interesting. Naturally, we headed out into the wrong direction, when we eventually stumbled upon a man living in a tent set up along a fence. Next to his tent, along the rim of where the iron fence stops and meets the concrete wall (at about knee-high level), he has placed three beautiful pots of fake flowers, exactly as one would along a window. He was peeking out from inside his small tent waiting for a pot of water to boil, with a smile on his face, watching passersby. It was really something. I will try to find him again this weekend if I can remember how we got lost. (Do not mistake this as my being okay with his tent. I am not. He should be properly sheltered and with a window sill for his flowers. He should be safe from cold and rain and wind, like I am and like you are.)

Finally, and because you’re wondering. Yes, I saw yellow vests (inside 10 minutes of my arrival). And yes, I purchased a baguette.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Winter clothing.
2. Shelter.
3. Safe air travel.

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