LizAndDickaGoGo Lands

Liz says: We hit the ground in a sea of fog, not all of it outside. After all of the prep to sell the house and the election we were exhausted and elated.
I couldn’t even process that America had just elected an articulate, thoughtful man as president. After Duh hubbya and Sarah dumber than a fifth grader Palin, “Africa isn’t a country, really?” That’s right moose girl. Anyway, enough of the old, the dust on the floor is no longer under the bed.
I kept waiting for this sweeping feeling,”Yeah, I’m in Paris.”
Instead it was blank, too tired to worry, too tired to be excited. Just get through customs with more bags than I have ever taken anywhere. The two women at customs couldn’t care less about us. They hardly looked at us and asked us none of the questions I’d prepared for, like what our address in Paris was going to be or what was the purpose of our visit.
We did everything wrong as soon as we got to the apartment. We had all the intentions, get out of the airport, walk, walk, walk, hydrate,stay up until bedtime in your new destination, then sleep. We ate, drank wine and collapsed.

Today, it was raining in the morning/afternoon. Then, as I sat on the phone with US AT&T tech help, the sun broke through. Now, everything works, they were actually quite helpful, but on to shoes.
We walked to the restaurant by the Luxembourg Gardens, my preferred new neighborhood. Chaussures everywhere, the cutest sloppy purple suede boots, little kitten heeled ankle boots with pointed toes, 80’s style granny boots, over the knee butternut suede.
An uber-femmie little black and white newsprint coat walked past with a cinched waist and a round pouf of a skirt. Darling! A black and white fuzzy tweed coat, once again with a waist, defying the very nature of tweed. Its around 50-55 in the day and rainy, so far. Then in the evening it goes down about 10 degrees and dries up. Everyone is deeply engrossed in conversation either with their walkmates or mobiles.
God, I love the french! Everyone seems to be so busy living, not just going here and there. 20 something guys walking there dearest moms to someplace or other. Mom in her wildly elaborate glasses, the grown son holding her forearm, both of them engrossed in conversation.

A guy putting chapstick on his girlfriend as she barely resists laughing, the market smells as you go by. Apples reak of appleness, cheese stinks its wonderful musty smell, roasted chickens, lined up with tiny potatoes all asking you why bother with a restaurant. A shop for each and everything, all in a row, so that shopping becomes more of a social activity than a chore. No errands, just living.

Okay, so I’m probably romanticizing, but its my first day and everything has a newness.

I bet that’s what Obama is thinking, too.