When in Rome...

Rome. Is. Awesome.

-the end.

I know every city in Europe is full of history. You can feel it in every cobblestone. But there's something about Rome that is almost overwhelming.

"That's where Julius Caesar stood. That's where Nero lived. That's where gladiators fought. This building has been here in some form for 2000 years."

On our first night in town, we checked into our apartment (a slightly awkward arrangement in which we had one bedroom and a couple had the other room and there was only one bathroom) and then we went straight out for dinner. We've had a problem with forgetting to eat on the days we travel...oops. after a quick calzone meal, we tried to get back into the apartment. Tried.

So I apparently am key-impaired. The door is one of those typical European ones, where the handle doesn't turn--you use the key to unlock and push the door open. Only it wouldn't unlock or open. For half an hour. We asked the owner for help, and she and her awesome husband came over. Of course it took them about 4 seconds to open the dumb thing. Since then, I always practice opening doors, like a small child...

The next day, we slept a little late and went to the colosseum. I love the colosseum. It's way smaller than it used to be, but it's still huge. It had this strange quality that makes it feel only large until you glance across the arena and see how tiny the people are over there are. Standing there and imagining what it would've been like to experience the colosseum during the games. Well, you know, without that whole people killing eachother thing.

We found ourselves a part of a tour group that had some great info, and afterwards they offered a "free" tour of the forum. The guide we had there was a British guy named Alex. If you ever go to Rome, get his info from me, because he's brilliant and knows everything about ancient Rome. He has worked at the Louvre, now he works at the Vatican. No big deal, right? At the end of the forum tour he offered everyone a morning or night walk through the "Secrets of Rome" the next day. It was expensive, but we like learning and Alex was a great guide, so we went reserved spots for the next evening.

The following morning we headed to the Vatican. I'm not Catholic, but I love the museums there. I'm pretty sure I hurt my neck looking at all of the ceilings. It's amazing. The Sistine Chapel, you guys. The rooms filled with statues. We wondered what would happen if all the museums in the world agreed to give the owner countries back all their art...so much art has been stolen or "borrowed" from its home over the centuries.

It takes hours to walk through the museums. I think we did it in about 3 hours, and that's not including the ginormous line out front.

By the time we got out of the museums, checked out the basilica, got pizza for lunch, and headed back to the metro, it was almost 4. The days go by so quickly here. I know it's because we are always headed somewhere, but I wish I could slow time down. I want to be here forever.

The night tour was spectacular. The monuments in Paris and Rome are lit from the bottom at night, so everything is bathed in golden light. It's like a dream. We went in a few churches, stopped in a few stinky alleyways....gazed slack-jawed more than a few times. Glass coffins, false ceilings, illusions. You know, typical awesome things.

And then it was done. No matter what city we go to (well, except for Milan), I wish we could be there/here longer. I could spend months in Paris and Rome. Years. Germany feels like it was so long ago, but I could spend years there, too.

Why I Love Paris and You Should, Too

Reasons I love Paris:

1. It's pretty. The mix of old and new makes it look like buildings have popped up looking like that for hundreds of years.

2. The history. Oh, that building? That's where we kept our queen before killing her. That one? That's where a famous thing was made. This old thing? Oh, we used it 300 years ago to symbolize the relationship with so-and-so. No big deal, you guys.

3. The people. Yes, you read that right. Imagine living in one of the most touristy areas on the planet. How would you treat idiot tourists who ruin all the fun things you like to do? I'm actually impressed with Parisians for not being rude. They almost all speak English and one or two other languages, and they're willing to help you figure out where to eat and what to see. What they don't like is when they do something nice for you and you either ignore it or don't say thank you.

4. Pastries.

5. 4€ bottles of wine that taste like heaven.

6. How everyone essentially wears the same outfit every day (especially the women) and no one seems to notice or care. It's so easy to get dressed in the morning. Black skinny jeans, long, black coat, black ankle boots, purse? Check and done.

7. When a guy in France checks you out, if you don't acknowledge him or don't respond when he says something, he doesn't cuss you out or tell you to smile at him (which is what happens in the States). He just shrugs and goes about his business.

8. All the things.

Paris.

I kept trying to write my Paris post while we were actually *in* Paris, but writing a blog about it felt too much like saying goodbye. So I waited until we were leaving Paris (about an hour from now; we're  at the airport as I type). That way I can say goodbye while trying to impart my feelings about this city.

Paris is... well, a friend once told me that the entire point of life is to get to Paris, and I absolutely agree with him. 100%.

I grew up in the suburbs and haven't ever really thought of myself as a "city girl". For me, a city girl and a suburbs girl and a country girl are all totally different things. Throw into the mix the fact that I'm ALSO a Colorado girl, which is a crazy, convoluted thing in and of itself...and you may see why enjoying a city, for me, can be kind of a big deal. Denver isn't  a city like New York, and New York is nothing like Paris. They all have different heartbeats and different ways of breathing.

I know that all sounds really floofy, like I'm trying to make it sound like this huge thing, but it's  honestly the only way I can think of to describe it. Paris can be just like any other city. There's graffiti, dirty sidewalks, confusing roads, millions of hair salons, poor sections, and rich sections. But there's something about Paris...I don't even know. It's  Paris. It's beautiful and exciting, and I just want to sit and watch the people walk by. I don't  even care that so many of them are tourists.

We arrived in Paris on Monday afternoon. Our hostess was thrilled to find out I understand french, and I was thrilled that she wanted to speak it to me. I've been a little paranoid that in the years since teaching, I've lost it. Luckily, that wasn't the case. Eve left us to the apartment, an itsy bitsy teeny tiny one-bedroom-one-bathroom-half-of-a-kitchen little thing.

I had planned to go walk around and see a few of the closest sites (our apartment was just inside the 10th quarter, at Porte Saint Martin). But I'd  forgotten that people who've  never traveled abroad before often experience culture shock. Steph has been out and about for several months, but Bri's travel has been confined to the States and a short middle school mission trip to El Salvador. If you've never experienced culture shock, know that it's awful. Everything feels like an emotional, physical, and mental overload.

So while Steph and I were happy to be in Paris, Bri needed to shut down. We let her nap while we walked down to the Seine and did some errand things like groceries and a post office stop. After being in Germany, it was refreshing to understand what was going on around us.

Walking in Paris feels like walking home.

Michulie-a

I went to see Julie&Julia a couple of days ago for a friend's birthday. It was the perfect adorable chick flick, and the worst decision I could have made at that moment.

You see, I am Julie. Er...and Julia. I am Michulie-a.

Seeing images of Paris brought back this terrible nostalgic feeling, like I had finally figured out how to teleport, but could only move the upper half of my body. My mind was in Paris, my feet were on a popcorn-encrusted floor in Colorado. And then there was Julie's story, about writing novels and never finishing them, about wanting to write and be read and actually getting published in the end. And watching that was like someone had read my diaries, done a little bit of creative work (I am, after all, so definitely not married), and set it up on the big screen.

I'm mad at myself for not having kept up with this blog all summer. I've been writing my thesis and working on some fiction stories I really am going to try to get published; not sure yet if I'll self publish or if I'll play the game with an agent. I want to do some more research, first. But with my last semester starting pretty soon...and with no more internship to talk about, I'm going to have to change my blog subject again. Maybe something more permanent?

Who knows? Does it even matter? Anyone reading that cares?

....thought so.

p.s. I have come to the devastating conclusion that I am one of the most depressing people I know. Dang sarcastic pessimism. It's like an awkward birthmark, no joke.