amiens is a small city about one hour north of paris. not one that many visitors to france would get a chance to see. lucky for bryndia, one of their best friends majken was living there, teaching english to really well dressed french high school students. for three nights, she let the nomadic couple sleep in her bed, cooked them amazing food, and shared all of her cute international friends with bryndia. they had a great time.
bryndia was in amiens to celebrate majken's 23rd birthday. they saw shutter island. (we drool over leo no matter what language he speaks in.) they baked betty crocker spice cake with cream cheese frosting, decorated it with pink candles. went to an irish bar that was called "my goodness!" and put back "lagers" while day dreaming about living in new york together in the fall. they visited majken's school, visited the amiens catherdral, saw the skull of john the baptist, drank cafe cremes. india took advantage of the kitchen, and majken taught her how to bake potato leek tarts and pasta sauce.
on thursday, march 11, bryn and india headed to paris. the city of lights. the city of romance. the city of ASHLEY OLSEN. yes, guys. that's right. they saw ashley olsen. in the flesh. lookin' fly. so, lets recap: new york - kate moss? check. paris - ashley olsen? check. if gaga is in barcelona, by god, india's idol sightings, the trifecta of blondes, will be complete. ("gaga sucks." - bryn little.)
paris is beautiful. it is filled with beautiful people, people who are too fashionable for their own good. who wear sunglasses when it's cloudy and capes and bowler hats and flowers in their hair. there is gold everywhere. gold in the architecture, gold sparkles in the sidewalks. and there are gardens. big green gardens with blossoms who, we could tell, were just about to poke their petals out, to bloom big, just about to turn to spring.
bryndia stayed in monmarte, right at the base of sacre coeur. at nights, they would walk up the 250 stairs to watch the eiffel tower sparkle and the spanish tourists get drunk on the steps. they visited notre dame, and bryn made a lot of victor hugo jokes. they walked through the jardin de luxenburg and pretended they were louis and marie antoinette. but, you know, before the whole execution thing. they went to the top of the eiffel tower, blended in among the tourists. men were strapped to the iron beams, hanging almost upside down off of the side of the tallest building in paris, patching up the corners that had rusted away. they walked the entire champ elyssee while india talked about proust. they visited the louvre, at night, when the museum was empty and the lights were low. and, most importantly, they walked everywhere, and felt very parisian.
on saturday, majken came into paris and met them. the three went to the mosque of paris and drank tea and ate at majken's favorite kitchy restaurant, "breakfast in america", where they ordered bagels and fried eggs for the first time in over a month. and then the three trouped to majken's favorite bar, chez george, a small, secret place in a stone basement in the fifth, where they drank bottles of wine and made friends with french africans who bryn taught how to play crazy eight countdown.
on one particularly sunny afternoon, bryn and india were walking by the river, wandering. they were talking about the street performers, boys who juggle soccer balls for hours, or dress up like the mona lisa, try to stand very still and get pictures snapped of their moving eyes. as the two discussed, they saw an older gentleman in front of them stoop to the ground. he rose and looked around, searching for someone. "excuse me, excuse me!" he called after india as she passed. he held up a shiny gold ring. "you drop? is this yours?" india shook her head no. he looked at it again, back up at india's face. he demonstrated the size of the ring, pushing it onto each of his fat fingers, being obvious that it did not fit his, and he handed it to india. "now, it is yours," he said. she smiled, said thank you, and turned to go. "oh, but sir, may you spare some change for a sandwich?" india emptied out her change purse into his palm and turned, twirling the ring on her finger for the rest of the walk. hours later, bryndia returned to the same boulevard to return to their hotel and there was their friend, stooping down in front of them, a new ring in his hand, marveling at the "real gold" he had just found. india punched him in the shoulder and showed him her bling bling he had given her hours before and he cracked up as india stormed away.
paris is filled with little surprises like that. kittens curled in hotel lobbies. michael jackson murals made of duct tape. carousels that spun in circles to american pop music. curries and wines and sweet smelling cigarettes, spicy perfumes, accordion players on the subway.
but paris is also very expensive. so now, the pair heads south.
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