|Mollyís aunt then took us on her patented 20th arrondisment tour, and I got a chance to finally get a view of the city. Even though it was way too foggy to really see anything. But if you look closely, I swear thatís the Eiffel Tower on the right.|
We ended the loooooong day with dinner at Chez Omar, where we ate piles
of couscous and chicken and other yummy things.|
The next morning I packed up all my stuff and we walked to the Etoile (i.e. Arc De Triomphe) where I caught the Air France bus to the airport. My flight home was twelve hours long and the flight attendant for my row looked just like Liev Schreiber. Which is definitely not a good thing for a woman to look like. During the flight I read the entire book The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood and felt empowered or something.
We got into LAX 45 minutes late and the line for customs was excruciatingly long. On my way out to meet my friends who were picking me up, Helena Christensen (yes, the supermodel) bumped into me with her luggage trolley. Bitch. She was met by this scraggly actor guy, Norman Reedus, whoís on the cover of the Hollywood Issue of Vanity Fair this month. Then I met my friends, got home, threw down my luggage, turned on the TV and collapsed on the couch to watch the Oscars. Later, the jetlag kicked my ass for three whole days.
Paris was good, as a whole. But I could never live in a country with no diet coke, parmesan cheese or toilet seat covers. Plus they really need to learn the fine art of Pasteurization considering that they invented it! But itís a great city, though one I probably wonít go back to until Iím really really rich and can afford to really really enjoy it.