She Went to Paris...

I told a lot of people that I was going to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered me so. That philosophical reasoning stems mostly from my love of Jimmy Buffett, but as I reflect during my last evening in Paris I'm realizing that there are quite a few questions that bother me so - and I've been looking for answers that I won't find in Paris.

So tomorrow I spend the day in London and the night in Scotland. Okay, I'm kidding - I know I won't find answers to life there, either, and if my limited past experience has taught me anything, I won't be "finding" them at all. I am going to London and Scotland tomorrow, though, and am extremely excited to spend a few nights with the illustrious and ever-entertaining R. G. Bradshaw Hawkins. Actually, I think that if anyone could convince me that I've found the answers, it's Bradshaw.

Maybe a little confident convincing that we comprehend even mildly the events taking place around us is good every once in a while. Even though I know the truth - that I'm completely lost and trying to remain calm about the fact that everyone else seems to be, too - I think that a bit of reassurance will help me stop hyperventillating out for long enough to get a bit of clarity about how to go about life. (An interesting sidenote here: I am terrifically afraid of heights, and today I climbed up to the top of the Notre Dame towers. To put the size of those staircases into perspective, the claustrophobia I felt overpowered my fear of heights. To put the level of my calmness or lack thereof into perspective, when I considered my job prospects for next year, I no longer worried about how high I was or the fact that I was crunched into a tiny staircase with every other tourist in Paris.)

While in Paris, I navigated around a foreign city without any French on my own, walked through three museums full of art so famous even I recognized it, made my way to the top of the Eiffel Tower, climbed up the towers of Notre Dame, avoided petting the puppies of the homeless, had several conversations with extraordinarily jovial policemen who joyed in making fun of me for not knowing my way around, and even eaten pate and bone marrow (and no, Michael Keller, it was not a handful. It was more like a TIBIAFUL). It seems as if I should feel indestructible and detached from normal life, but instead I feel more rooted in my life in DC than ever. With so many big decisions coming up, all I wanted to do was to make my great escape to Europe for a few weeks - and while I have enjoyed it so far and am sure I will continue to, I guess what I've figured out is that just because I'm on a different continent doesn't mean I've escaped (thanks a lot, global communications). In fact, I don't even feel like I want to escape anymore.

I hope this isn't too philosophical for a blog post. I started to write a description of my day, but that seemed boring in comparison. Tomorrow will be much more light-hearted...