The only thing that I could never miss about this state is the sight of barren, brown crop circles stretching to the horizon from 3000 feet in the air. Certainly there is something about the view that seems so American… so hard-working and idealistic… so sweat-off-my-back. It would most-likely inspire me if I didn’t long so much to run around barefoot on a lonely acre of Kentucky grass. This fact is one of the few reasons that I am willing to exit Colorado at all, though this morning’s flight isn’t as much of an exit as it is an entrance. I will refer to this week as my own little venture into the secret wardrobe. The only lions I may encounter include French culture and my own ignorance of the latter. My traveling companions may prove to be witches… but we’ll see. The wardrobe of Paris, France. Sounds alluring, doesn’t it?

The knowledge I’ve attained concerning the most romantic city in the world (arguable on my part, especially compared to small-town Montana or some quaint town in northern Italy) comes from my brief experience in France traveling as a soprano. Singing acapella solos was the priority, the culture didn’t really turn my toes.

This time around, or across I should say, the city seems a bit more attractive. Traveling with people I like instead of people I compete with brings about a contentment, and traveling with John reminds me to see Paris as a village, a culture, instead of an amusement park.

John is the 25-year-old cultural guru of the trip. Jena and I have taken to calling him the tour guide (or fashion nazi as I’ll discuss later), but never to his face. He spent much of his childhood/teenage years in the city of Paris, and is entirely responsible for our week in the wardrobe. I was, upon our first encounter, intimidated by his “cultural understanding.” Living all around the world and fluently speaking the language I wished to know is all it takes to catch me off guard. John is one of the few men I’ve known in Colorado who values Vivaldi, traveling and a good hiking trail…, maybe even on the same day. Paris is his favorite place in the world, and when he starts discussing the city it suddenly becomes the most beautiful place and language. Who better to travel with than my friend John.

I should also mention that he is a travel sleuth. Who knew that first class customers have their own foldout television screens and chairs that fold out completely? That combined with the foccocia sandwich could make this the best flight I will ever have. I’ll never fly again without reminiscing about my lunch in first class sitting next to the wardrobe tour guide John!

Anoter reason to vacation outside of Colorado would be to see friends in a completely different climate than what they are used to and how you know them…. I’ve known Jena for five years. Students at Miami of Ohio (the name is a story in itself) we both have become 8th grade English teachers. My largest influence on her, next to our conversations about God, faith, and living life abundantly, would be her present love of the outdoors. We were part of a circle of women who would meet once a week—and one week we persuaded Jena and a couple of other girls to go camping at Hueston Woods in Oxford, Ohio. Fortunately it was a good camping experience (though I’ve never had a miserable one) and she now owns her own Sierra Designs sleeping bag. This just goes to say that she has invested in the pastime, and through-which she has invested in our friendship.

Jena and I have never traveled together, atleast not to this extent. Living together this whole year in Colorado Springs has afforded us greater understanding of our strengths and weaknesses as women, but also reminded us that we are as good of friends as we thought before her move to Colorado. I hope to see her enjoying Paris and these boys as we do the things we most enjoy about traveling: writing, reading, discussing, and resting.

All women should try traveling with their closest girlfriends. You think that you know each other, and you might. But there is so much more to be found-out. Leave the personality tests online while you take a road trip to TAOS or sit next to friend on a flight to Toronto without watching the movie. Jena and I will discover the Parisian wardrobe with the sole intent of doing it together… with John and Drew as our guides, of course.

Speaking of Drew, I know nearly nothing about him. Though he has passed every-question-answered with flying colors, which is entirely too arrogant for me to say… but this is my venture. He loves old movies, namely Casablanca. He is not above listening to country music and he hopes to move to Colorado. I’ve also heard that he is an informed swing dancer. You’re right, these things are nothing in the long run, or in terms of living life well. BUT—they point to a guy who values slow plot lines but great movie-making, who took the time to learn to dance somewhere along the way, and who wants to live in the most beautiful of the 48 states.

Drew will provide great comfort and entertainment for the three planners/thinkers. He seems laid-back and encouraging. He observes without assuming—and he and John know one another as well as Jena and I know each other.

We have just passed over the Blue Ridge Mountains of Kentucky, and will reach Dulles Airport in twenty minutes. The green plots of land and rolling hills with thick undergrowth are a refreshing scene. Spring in the humid Midwest…, I guess you can’t escape the humidity and still dance barefoot on that lonely acre of grass.

And thus I enter into the mystery of the passageway, leaving behind student and the mountains, pushing aside garments of relational differences to a new culture….