French people smoke a whole fucking lot.
Went to Paris for the weekend at the very last minute and had a blast. I couchsurfed with 3 French guys who have a pretty big apartment on top of a wedding dress shop. Romain took me to a bar next to le Canal St. Martin, where Amelie threw skipped stones in the movie. Two pints of beer cost 11 Euros. Jeebus. Day 2, I went to les catacombes to see all the bones that were moved from cemetaries in the 1800s because of the diseases they carried from open mass graves. Gross.
While waiting in the hour long line, I met some Californians from the Bay Area and LA. It was so nice to hear American accents and people talking about BART, that I uncharacteristically got over my shyness and barged in on their conversation. They were probably around my parents' age, but they were friendly. After the catacombs, they invited me to have coffee with them (I paid 8 Euros for a café au lait and a bottle of Perrier. RIP OFF). I chatted with one of the guys from LA, who gave me life advice and told me that if he could relive his life again, he would have traveled as much as possible when he was younger and said I was doing the right thing. It felt really reassuring and parental - very Bill Murray/Scarlett Johansson/Lost in Translation-y.
That night, I went to see Coraline in 3D with Romain (12 freaking Euros), which was amazing and freaky. Later, we spied on a homeless man in front of the apartment being robbed while sleeping.
On Day 3, I woke up and went to Le Pure Café, which is the café Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy go to in Before Sunset. It was so cute inside and I had a nice corner seat next to the toilets with a perfect view of where they sat in the movie. Although while seating me, the waitress asked if I was alone and I felt embarassed. Gah.
On the train back to Metz, I sat next to a slightly sour smelling man for an hour and a half.
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