Home
America, America… the womb that nurtured MacDonald’s, and invented the word “drive through.” The country that banned alcohol, encouraged the death penalty, and single-handedly destroyed the Gulf of Mexico.
Well no - BP is a foreign entity.
What can I say? Who wouldn’t be glad to be home?
Everyone speaks English again, and Verizon is as dependable as ever. (Talk about foreign country phone withdrawal. Ick.) Jet lag is finally behind me, but I’ve been re-infected with the local malaise. We should put that on t-shirts: Proud to be a Lazy American.
France was an experience. From adventures in metro travel (I don’t recommend getting lost without a map) to the enlightening idea that those lines on the road (you know, the white ones) aren’t invisible walls in the air, but more coloring book outlines: true art involves ignoring them totally.
I find myself dreaming in gargoyles and plaster moldings, imagining a world filled with stonework and Louis XVI furniture. Driving down colorless streets, looking up at cardboard apartment buildings, I imagine the cobblestone windings of Paris - fondly reminiscing on the curving six stories that meet in a canopy over the alleyways, their wrought-iron railings throwing shadows on the ground below.
As a young American pre-Paris, I focused my anticipations on the museums and the food - enticements I thought would be the most memorable. Visiting the Eiffel Tower was a necessity, but something I had labeled expendable.
From the top floor of nearly every building in any situation in that city, le Tour towers above the horizon. From the right angle, it seems even to curve with the line of the firmament. No skyscrapers compete for your attention - only that great feat of engineering draws the eye. As a young American post-Paris, I find myself craving the Eiffel Tower - the very cultural significance of it, the way it gets inside your bones.
The most beautiful view I have ever seen - above the soft blue Appalachians, beyond the churning Atlantic seas, surpassing vastness of the New York City skyline- was le Tour Eiffel burning in the night, a yellow and white light-show looming over the Champs Elysees - l’Arc de Triomphe glinting in the other direction.
On aura Paris toujours - mais je ne peux pas en avoir assez. Elle me manque beaucoup, Paris.
