"Wait...so like, you DONT spend your free time listening to ABBA?" - Day 1, Paris

So really, the adventure began on Sunday evening. Frank, best older brother and gracious host for the week in Ghana, saw me right up to immigration and then we parted ways. I sat and watched some of the Greece vs Costa Rica game with Johnny, one of Frank's friends who was traveling back to England for a holiday/to meet with his PhD director or something of similar importance. When we had finally boarded and settled in, we hear a voice from the ominous sky tell us that there was a bag on the plane that shouldn't have been there (...how tho) so they had to remove all of the bags from the plane. pas bon fromage. We ended up leaving an hour late, which was super convenient for my hour long layover. Stupid. I decided I was going to deal with it later and just enjoy the movies on the plane. First I watched  'That Awkward Moment' which is probably the stupidest title for a movie ever, but despite not being revolutionary in any way, I very much enjoyed it. Michael B. Jordan is easily my one true love, and the interplay between him, Zac Efron and Miles Teller was great. I then watched a strange Irish movie with Andrew Scott, known for playing Moriarty in the Sherlock series. It was also a bit formulaic and wonky, but had some super quirky and bright spots that made it a fun watch.

British Airways did the damn thing and sorted me out on the next flight out to Paris, which was wonderful. Blah blah blah, got to Paris, and that's where all of the swamp-back (copious amounts of sweat) decided to reintroduce itself into my life. I dragged my super heavy suitcase halfway across the airport, searching furiously for a Relay (Its a little store) so that I could buy a new SIM card. After that small success, I decided that there was no way I was taking the train anywhere with my suitcases, and found a nice man to taxi me to my hostel for the night. We carried the whole conversation out in French, and talked about soccer, medicine, and life in general. According to him, my life essentially is going to end at 25 if I haven't snatched up a nice boy who doesn't care that I'm a doctor, so that was super encouraging. I got to the hostel and settled in a bit. I met Cesar, one of the people sharing my room. Cesar was sweet Colombian man who was in Europe for the first time, embarking on an epic Eurotrip. He left two little Colombian chocolates on everyone's bed and said in the most adorable broken english (side note, he spoke no french nor english haha. But I used my working knowledge of Shakira and Juanes songs to figure out the things that he just couldn't translate) that they were a way of welcoming us to France. Had I known we were doing this type of stuff, I would have saved the scraps from my pre-departure Chipotle and given it to him haha, but what can ya do.

First pic in Paris!

went on a walk

A nearby park overlooking the street

3/4 of the roommates for the night! 

a view from my window of the 15th arr

another view from my window

I hadn't even done anything particularly french, but it all still felt a bit surreal. I went to grab a bit of food before the France game that night, and returned about halfway through it, stopping at cafes and staring in at the screens that were broadcasting it like a mad woman. Thankfully I wasn't the only one though haha.

I ended up watching that game and the Germany-Algerie game with my new friends, whose names I now realize I dont know at all (and never will lol). But there was a very nice German, a Brazilian, and an American from Atlanta. The German found two other Germans at the hostel and they obnoxiously (in the best way) cheered their team on to victory. The game probably ended around 12:30am, but there is a weird thing in France where the sun doesn't even set until like, 10pm. So my sleep and eating schedule even for just that day was already all out of sorts. I was tired from the stress of watching Algeria almost win and then sadly not (ya gotta admit, they would have totally deserved it), but not tired enough to go to bed just yet. I got a bottle of water from the front desk, and ended up meeting the two remaining roommates, Tony and Simon from Sweden (I had originally guessed Norway). We chatted for a while and then I went upstairs. I started my usually nightly routine of searching for any and all celebrity gossip, when Simon walked in. We talked for a bit, and I proceeded to grill him about all things Swedish and Scandinavian. Sadly, he wasn't a bit fan of any of the Swedish music that I liked (no Erik Hassle, and more importantly, no Robyn - like...how?), and apparently Swedes not enjoy going to dance clubs that only play ABBA as much as I hoped they did. I dont think it took him very long to figure out my incredibly cheesy taste in music and extreme (non, vraiment extreme) passion for power pop music haha. But he did end up introducing me to some sweet folk-bluesy type Swedish music by a guy named Daniel Norgren.

How cool is that?? I never expected this kind of  sound, but it was a pleasant surprise! He also educated me on funny and a little bit weird Norwegian Kollektivet. I guess they do similar videos to the people that did 'What does the fox say.' Here is an example where they brag about the size of their larger alphabet.

And another where they lament the struggle of being a guy and always having to be the big spoon (I categorically disagree with the idea that little spoon is better, but that's a debate for another day). 

Basically, this had me thinking that my next European adventure should be based in Scandinavia, because the music is surprisingly soulful, and the people are maybe as weird as I am. Parf.

But for now, Paris is my work station and most likely my playground as well!