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letters to france  
dear france: thank you for inventing fromage. especially goat cheese. and for inventing a salad that is topped with big slices of warmed goat cheese on toast. it is a very good invention.

dear paris pickpockets: thank you for not pickpocketing us even though at evey turn there were signs saying "beware of pickpockets!" also, thank you for having pickpockets because in the u.s we just have people that will shoot you for a quarter. craig and i wouldn't have been able to constantly asked each other "have you been pickpocketed yet?" and answer "yes, my socks and 100 euros are missing". we crack each other up.

dear waiter at fontaine sully bistro: thank you for saying "baaaa. baaaa." at me everytime you walked past our table making every american in the place scurry for their book on france to look up what that custom meant. only i knew it was joke about me ordering a goat cheese salad. you think you're funny? you are.

dear dog poop on rue st. antoine: thank you for maintaining at least ONE french stereotype and for winding up engulfing my slip-on loafer. i don't think i'll ever look at them the same way. p.s. i think your previous owner is eating too much fromage.

dear internet cafe on rue charlemagne: thank you for speaking english and only charging us 2 euros to send emails to our parents letting them know that we were alive. sadly, the french keyboard wasn't much help - why the hell are the A and the Q switched?

dear crepe makers: you are gods. there is special place in heaven for the streetside crepe makers in paris. especially the ones that give you extra nutella and pause in the crepe flip to let you take a pictures. you rule.

dear mona lisa: what IS IT with you? even i, the most law-abiding girl ever, had an overwhelming urge to smash the glass of your security case and run away with you. strange.

dear army guys with automatic guns at charles de gaulle: thank you for not shooting us even though i broke out in a sweat and looked guilty everytime i saw you. you scare the crap out of me.

dear luggage: thank you for meeting us in paris. it's okay that you decided to stay an extra day in philly on the way home. we didn't care.

dear paris weather: thank you for being sunny and perfect for five whole days. you may now rain and storm as much as you like.

dear thousands of parisian roller bladers: sorry that we didn't understand that we couldn't cross the street while you rollerbladed past us for a full 15 minutes. your police escort kindly reminded us by blowing the shrillest, loudest whistle and sceaming "NON - MADAME! MONSIEUR!" we won't forget anytime soon. (this happens on sundays, folks. heads up and bring a book. you won't cross the street until every last rollarblader -probably numbering 1500-get by)

dear eiffel tower: you are tall and pretty. everyone loves you.

dear marathon de paris runners: you run fast. if i was in the marathon, i would still be running even though the race was on sunday.

dear man who accosted us on the bridge over the seine sunday night: i don't know why you wanted us to "come with you" or why you grabbed craig's wrist, but i do know that you were a drunk college kid who totally understood "eff-off". thank you for watching enough of the sopranos to know the eff-word.

dear parisians: thank you for letting us speak french even though it made your ears bleed. thanks for being patient with us and helping us find the correct train to the airport. thanks for giving me one of your metro tickets out of your pocket when i totally lost mine and couldn't leave the station (inexplicably, you had to hold on to your ticket everytime you rode the trains because periodically you'd have to swipe it to switch trains or leave the station.)

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post #400
bio: lisa may

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