Sleeping in is both the most refreshing and frustrating event… especially this morning when we meant to wake up early to spend time together before John left for the week. He still had plenty of time to get things together, and we got an extra hour of sleep after last night’s events.

We returned from Normandy in time to go out with Charley and Jonathan. I think that overall it was a pretty funny evening. Wine all over—literally. John needs a new traveling sweater, and Jena needs a new pair of corduroys. Good thing the wine isn’t expensive in France.

After John left the apartment, Jena, Drew, and I really began our cultural experience. His presence acted as a buffer, which helped me to enjoy Paris as Paris, like in the beginning of the book when I described it as a village. Through his preparation course, which it was, we are now prepared for a bit of fun on our own.

The lady at the boulangerie was incredibly precious when I was there to order bread by myself (80% body language). Almost finishing the jar of Nutella, we chilled in the flat until around noon, and we then ventured out on our own for the market. Jena and I bought vegetables, wine, and desserts without any assistance, and by that time had worked up the courage to tread through the metro towards the Louvre for some pictures and shopping.

Our schedule is much more laid back, we told ourselves as we meandered through the streets not really knowing where we should go and loving it. We ultimately ended up sitting on a bridge to journal and to sketch. It was a very similar view to a postcard: Musee d’Orsay, a long bridge, and the top half of La Tour d’Eiffel. When Jena got just cold enough to move on with the day, we kept walking toward the square of museums.

Inevitably, with as many pigeons as are present in Paris, someone will become a target for a crafty little bird. That person was Drew. The unsuspecting American felt a drop on his shoulder and was ‘caught unawares’ (as they would say in Pirates of the Caribbean). We never looked more like tourists than we did that afternoon in the squared park, cameras around our necks scraping (excuse my crudeness) pigeon shit off of Drew’s black coat. Makes a great photograph, though.

Later that afternoon we surprised ourselves by spending four hours shopping and walking near the opera house at Galeries Lafayette. Jena bought a bag, Drew bought gifts for his mom, and I bought a pack of cards. Do you feel like you know us well enough?

The only bit of agenda we were still trying to hold was a set dinnertime of 6:00 back at the apartment. John’s flight may have been bumped—you know—and we would need to be there to let him in. We did decide to allow a wrinkle in the schedule for a quick stop at the bakery for a baguette, two tarts, and a chocolate cake. We were most definitely going to eat well as we played cards and drank our 2 euro bottle of wine! Luckily John was not there when we returned to the house—though he might’ve been a bit excited that we have been running on French time.

After dinner that evening we laughed as hard as I’ve ever laughed. Everything is funny with chocolate, tarts, goat cheese, bread, and red wine… am I right? I mocked someone’s laugh, and someone made fun of me, and the other person couldn’t catch his breath.. and so the laughter continued all night long as we played Rummie and Pigeonshit… a new form of the time old game. I know that more things happened to make me forget myself…. One was the crazy lift door that I consistently pressed the button for even though I didn’t need to do so. The one time I remembered that it wasn’t necessary, I grabbed the door to pull it open and found that this one time it was completely necessary.

The next morning we decided that we didn’t need an alarm. We had only one destination, and we could arrive late. The one for whom the alarm was necessary had most-likely arrived back in Denver and was heading to Colorado Springs—the greenless country on the other side of the wardrobe. Sad.