Photo of Paris by Kari Herer
Do I write too much about Paris? I just can't seem to get enough of that city...I feel like I am always homesick for Paris!
I found this article to be hilariously amusing, especially because of my own experiences in France. This is from Glamour and was written by Nichole Robertson (you can check out her blog here).
Here are the five things Nichole finds hilariously tricky about daily life in Paris...
1. No Speak French. I don't speak a whole lot of French. I can ask where the restroom is and order a coffee, but my husband does most of the talking. When we go to the grocery store or to the bakery, I feel like his submissive wifey who nods and smiles. When I do speak, I imagine I sound like Borat... "Me like your bread. Yes. Your bread is nice."
2. No Cheddar Cheese. It's not surprising that my toddlers love cheddar cheese. What is shocking (unless I'm the last to know) is that cheddar cheese is not too popular in Paris. We searched for two days to no avail. Desperation led to a pretty shady move: We bought something orange and told them it was cheddar. Lucky for us, Mimolette tastes and looks a whole lot like the real deal!
3. No Hot Showers. I weep for hot showers. I dream about hot showers. I would travel miles for a hot shower. But our water tank is teeny, and we learned the hard way that we have about three minutes each before the hot water runs out. So everyday is a choice: Shampoo or shave? Face or feet?
4. No Bathroom Power. I have long hair, and I absolutely need to blow it dry. There's only one outlet in the bathroom, and it says razors only. So I dry my hair in the kitchen, the only place that won't fry my hairdryer. I even hung a mirror in there. Bonus: Now I can monitor the toast while I'm doing it.
5. No Anonymous Med Shopping. The scenario: You have diarrhea. United States: You go to CVS, pick up some Immodium, and disguise it with a copy of In Touch while in the checkout line. No one discusses diarrhea (although they may discuss Jessica Simpson). Paris: Medicine isn't sold in a supermarket or otherwise anonymous place, so you go to a small pharmacie. There are at least six people in this small pharmacie. All of the embarrassing medications are behind the counter. You skulk to the counter and spend ten minutes trying to explain in broken French that you have diarrhea. In public. With hand gestures.
All of the not-so-charming stuff aside, Paris is everything you'd expect it to be. The romantic cliches exist for a reason, and I've never had better bread, butter, eclairs or coffee. The people are super nice; I have yet to meet a rude French person. Our apartment is beautiful, with exposed beams, huge windows and a sweet cobblestone courtyard, and when I'm not in it, I'm surrounded by some of the most amazing architecture in the world. It's a truly magical place to be, and I enjoy living life in a place where people champion beauty in all its forms.