THE INFAMOUS PARIS ROMANCE!!!!
So long ago (the summer of '06), I was on my way to study abroad in Namibia, Africa. Namibia is a significant country because, as we all know, Angelina and Brad had baby Shilo there that same year. I went for the much less interesting anthropological things there. I mean live with natives for a month, kill snakes, see elephants? Pales in comparison to having a chance to actually see a real celebrity baby! I mean how many times do any of us have a chance to see that anywhere?
I digress...Paris plays a part in all this because my dad was able to find a flight that allowed me to meet my parents in Paris (my dad was going to take my mom to Italy right after for their 25th anniversary, so we were all there) and then fly to Africa.
So the first day that I'm not jet-lagged, I go run around Paris just looking at things, eating things and exploring the city. It's marvelous fun. I stop next to the river Seine to read my map. Apparently this signals "tourist" since not a minute later a Frenchman comes up to me and asks if he can look at my map too. However, I notice that he didn't seem interested in finding anything (at least on the map) as he quickly starts making conversation with me. Let's fast forward to two hours later when we're sitting in a cafe talking. Think American films that take place in Paris are full of stupid stereo-types...?
Ummm...they...really....aren't. Let me give you some highlites of our conversation: (Note that this must be done in a THICK Parisian accent)
"Ah, Laurel, your smile, it is so beautiful. I am not a painter, but you will make me one."
"Bravo, bravo Laurel to your parents for making you. I should send them a bottle of wine."
"I would send my heart to you across the ocean, but I cannot; I only have one."
"Ah, Laurel, your laughter! I must remember it. I am not a writer, but you will make me one."
I literally have a page of these written down because they were just so....French. Did they work on me? Well, if you hadn't kissed anyone for over two years because you were serving a mission most of that time, and a cliche Paris romance knocks at your door, what would you do?
Exactly. Kissing on top of the Eiffel Tower was awesome.
I digress...Paris plays a part in all this because my dad was able to find a flight that allowed me to meet my parents in Paris (my dad was going to take my mom to Italy right after for their 25th anniversary, so we were all there) and then fly to Africa.
So the first day that I'm not jet-lagged, I go run around Paris just looking at things, eating things and exploring the city. It's marvelous fun. I stop next to the river Seine to read my map. Apparently this signals "tourist" since not a minute later a Frenchman comes up to me and asks if he can look at my map too. However, I notice that he didn't seem interested in finding anything (at least on the map) as he quickly starts making conversation with me. Let's fast forward to two hours later when we're sitting in a cafe talking. Think American films that take place in Paris are full of stupid stereo-types...?
Ummm...they...really....aren't. Let me give you some highlites of our conversation: (Note that this must be done in a THICK Parisian accent)
"Ah, Laurel, your smile, it is so beautiful. I am not a painter, but you will make me one."
"Bravo, bravo Laurel to your parents for making you. I should send them a bottle of wine."
"I would send my heart to you across the ocean, but I cannot; I only have one."
"Ah, Laurel, your laughter! I must remember it. I am not a writer, but you will make me one."
I literally have a page of these written down because they were just so....French. Did they work on me? Well, if you hadn't kissed anyone for over two years because you were serving a mission most of that time, and a cliche Paris romance knocks at your door, what would you do?
Exactly. Kissing on top of the Eiffel Tower was awesome.
4 comments:
Your life sounds so romantic and exciting. First Paris, and then Bret Michaels? What's next?
Shut. up. No. way.
BWAHAHHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
Oh, your children'll love that story for years and years to come...
...
your husband will not. LOL
P.S. I still think that me dressing up in trash so that we look like lunatics to thus discourage the "Newsboy" from calling on you is a better story... probably just 'cause I was there. ;)
Lobbie, it's me again, bugging you to update your blog. Please?
Post a Comment