My French is very good. (Not really--see my comment on my last post, but I wanted to throw Ann off the trail of this new post.) Real topic: I'm in Paris! Specifically, I'm at Charles de Gaulle airport outside of Paris, and since I never went through immigration or showed anyone my passport, I suppose it could be argued from the standpoint of international law that I am not actually on French territory right now. But most people around me are speaking French; many things are not clean and perfect; and at 7:45 in the morning, someone's already been mean to me. I'm home, and all is well with the world again!Unfortunately, this uncomfortable airport seat is as close as I'll get to Nirvana on this trip. I'm only in CDG for five hours, on a layover on my way back to West Africa for a week and a half for work. And my plans for a three-day stopover in Paris to see friends and stock up on staples, like fleur de sel, unavailable in the frontier wilderness where I now live, have been foiled by the West Africans changing the work schedule last week without telling me. Someday, I may forgive them.
Instead, I can only try to console myself with a decent croissant and perhaps some real yogurt.
If any of my French readers see this today, Wednesday, August 27, they can give me a call on my French cell phone until about 13h!
