Journal Entry, Day 1

"Go to Paris as soon as possible, and remember it as best you can." -Betty Stanley

Everything about one's arrival in Paris seems designed to disappoint. The airport (Charles de Gaulle or Orly, it doesn't matter) is depressingly drab and anticlimactic. It is inevitably cold and drizzly, regardless of the season, as if the weather is purposely trying to dampen your natural American inclination toward overenthusiasm. Calm down, the rain says. Don't expect perfection.

The cab ride into the city is never much better. I have a theory that Parisian cab drivers take secret delight in driving Americans through the grittiest parts of the city. Meanwhile, I imagine nearly all Americans have the same reaction: "I just dropped a thousand big ones to fly over here, and it does NOT look like the movies. Shitballs."

It's easy to worry, on your first visit (for you will never have just one visit to Paris), that Paris won't live up to your expectations. If you find yourself disillusioned after the mandatory battle at the airport to regain your luggage and find transportation and understand just what in the hell people are SAYING, and a bit disappointed in your postage stamp-sized hotel room with the twin beds pushed together in the French version of a king-sized bed, do this. Go to the Metro stop St. Michel, and don't worry about the smell of the underground. Yes, it's urine that you smell, with maybe a little sweat and burnt rubber thrown into the mix. You'll get used to it. Once you emerge from the station, go to the cafe on the corner, Le Depart. Yes, it's a little touristy, but the food is delicious and the waiters will take pity on you for being American. Sit at an outside table, order a carafe de Bordeaux and people watch. You'll see tons of Americans (easily identifiable by their fanny packs and nasal screams - "CARL! The Eiffel Tower is THAT WAY.") But you'll also see tragically hip twenty-something Parisians, homeless people, families, people from every possible walk of life. And if you sit there for an hour, and occasionally peek around the corner to take in Notre Dame in all its ridiculously magnificent glory not two blocks away, I guarantee you will begin to fall in love with a city that, while not perfect, comes pretty damn close.