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Not the famous lock bridge.

Another lock bridge near Notre Dame, but not THE famous lock bridge.

“Locks of Love Taken Down”

In early June I left Cheng to toil away in Hyderabad and traveled to Paris, meeting up with 5 of the Ultimate Frisbee Windmill crew (Sam spent time with his Amazing Grace and joined us later.) I wasn’t interested in doing the expected touristy things, and told Cheng as much beforehand, but lo and behold…I did all the touristy things.

Early on I found French difficult to pick up. Coming from a place where I had somewhat mastered the art of greetings and ordering food in Hindi, my long-learned Spanish kept bubbling up to get in the way as I searched my brain for the basic French I’d been practicing on Duolingo. But I woke up early my first morning there (3.5 hrs behind India) and wandered around looking for breakfast that wasn’t a croissant, roll, or crepe. I stumbled on the Sunday market near the Bastille stop as they were setting up and began practicing my limited vocabulary (Bonjour, merci, au revoir) until I felt quite comfortable making myself understood.

Eventually, I found amazing rotisserie chicken, fresh cherries, salami, and purple cabbage slaw for breakfast. I chatted up some of the vendors, enjoying myself immensely before making my way back to the Austinite nest for my third coffee of the morning and some stretching yoga.

Later that day, I dragged the rest of the crew back to the market to enjoy the fresh smells, tastes, and sounds I had found earlier.


One Comment

  1. Wow! I would love to experience what you are doing!! Have fun and be safe!

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