paris, part two

So, day two. After seeing the Eiffel Tower, my mom and sisters and I went home and slept. The three of them got up early the next morning because they had planned a trip to Normandy, which I had declined attending. This was for three reasons: a) I knew I'd be jetlagged, b) I'd been looking forward to a peaceful day in France for a month and knew I'd need it soon after I got to France (and I was right), and c) I knew that going on a side trip with my family that would include an itinerary and a fast-moving pace would likely cause me to become agitated and a bit murderous. Which, let's face it, nobody needed during a trip to Paris.


So they left, and I spent the day doing what any world traveller would do if left alone in a cute Parisian apartment with good wifi: I watched a metric ton of Doctor Who.

Yep. I sat on my ass and watched TV on my laptop. There was a point when I showered and dressed and went outside for a walk and ate food and bought groceries and made dinner, but mostly there was a lot of Doctor Who.

(Below are pictures to prove I went outside that day. I swear to God you can aim a camera in ANY DIRECTION in Paris and get a good shot. There are, like, no bad pictures in Paris.)

The next day I was expecting my family back around 2pm, and when that did not happen (nor did I hear from them) I got really worried that something had happened to them. Or, even if they were okay, I worried they were stuck somewhere sans internet and wouldn't make it home for Christmas, which was the next day. I didn't realize how deep-seated or horrifying this idea was to me until I went outside in the early evening and, upon seeing my mother walking up the street with her suitcase, began to sob.

Because the Paris trip to me was not about Paris. I mean, it was about Paris, but if we'd gone anywhere else I wouldn't have given a damn because I'd have been with my family for the one major family holiday of the year. Not being with them for fucking CHRISTMAS was basically more than I would have been able to handle. It would have been hands-down the absolute WORST Christmas in the history of ever.

Fortunately, this did not happen, thank God. My mother and sisters returned with amazing pictures of various places they'd been and stories of many detours and travel frustrations, the latter of which I was glad to have missed out on.

I can't remember if this was the night that my sisters made mushroom risotto with chorizo (spicy sausage that is OH MY GOD) and we all watched Midnight In Paris, but it did happen at some point and I'm going to add it in now. I found that I really enjoyed Midnight In Paris, and it did not hurt to be squished onto a sofa with my family at the time of watching.

Long story short, Christmas was saved, and we went to bed soon after dinner so we could wake up early enough to go somewhere the next day.