Day 1. Lesson #1 in Paris: The rumors are true; Parisians aren't the nicest people.

Lesson #1 in Paris: The rumors are true; Parisians aren't the nicest people.

Maybe (hopefully) eventually (very soon) I'll learn that this in, in fact, a giant myth.

The customs officer was, in retrospect, very nice and kind of funny. But since the joke was that he wasn't going to let me into the country because I didn't look like my passport picture--"Something something cheveux courts something something différents"--I failed to find very much humor.

After an incredibly relieved reunion with Drea, a long taxi ride to Cité (where I'm staying), an awkward but mostly smooth check-in and arrival in my room, it was time to eat. It was Sunday. At like 2:00. Nothing (absolutely nothing) was open. After walking aimlessly for 15ish minutes, passing closed Boulangeries and some sort of restaurant called Chez Alex, we found a little liquor store-type thing. We bought bake-them-yourself baguettes and a jar of nutella each.

We feasted, then went on a "tour" of the area, which consisted of loading up our transit cards (unlimited bus/metra rides for a month!!!) and taking the metra 2 stops to go to some sort of supermarket. After getting a couple things, we decided to try the Pharmacie across the street. The haughty, disgruntled Parisians bunched in what they might have thought was a line gave us infinite dirty looks when we tried to get through to look at everything. One extremely disgruntled man yelled at us.

Completely discouraged, I returned to my room to sleep.