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This is a long blog. It's about London and Paris. But, I think it's funny. Oh, and there are new pictures on Facebook and Webshots.

London

Ok, so I clearly have been neglecting the little blog. In the last few weeks, I have done some serious traveling… not to brag. I went to London two weeks ago and it was amazing. I got in on Friday around 1:30 pm London time and headed to my hostel, which took about two and a half hours, due to ridiculous transportation difficulties (i.e. my Tube train getting shut down half way through my journey and having to go back and start it all over again… awesome). I finally got there and got dropped off in the middle of South Kensington. Luckily, due to the fact that I was alone, it was a really nice, clean, rich area. So, I found my hostel and put my stuff down. Josh was already there and it was nice to see a friendly face. I put on some cooler clothes because it was frickin cold outside and we waited for Drew, Cassie, and Alex. The hostel was nice, but I was angry (weird, huh?) because the pound totally poops on the dollar. Ugh. Who do they think they are? Just get the Euro… jerks. So, we headed over to visit Emily Seawright and Elizabeth Johnson, then went and changed in preparation for the night. We went to dinner at this burger place and then went to see “Evita.” The show was great. The main girl’s voice was really on-and-off, but I liked the show overall. Sitting by Josh, as usual, was an exercise in vocal reactions to vocal performances. Hearing “mm-MM!” and “You betta SANG!” in the middle of a West End production came to seem commonplace to me by the end of the weekend. After “Evita,” we went and bought chips and drinks at the grocery store, went to Drew’s apartment, and watched “The Office.” Awesome. The next day, Josh and I met Elizabeth Johnson early and bought tickets to “Wicked.” We went to eat at Burger King and Josh left my camera on the table. When I realized it, he had the gall to say to me, “That’s what you get when you let me carry it.” Clearly, our friendship almost ended at that point. But, my camera was fine. After that, we did sightseeing, which was fun, but… I am an awful traveler, because not much impresses me anymore. I’m like, “Cathedral? Been there. Palace? Done that. Ugly teeth? Welcome to this continent.” Then, we saw the show. Idina Menzel and her incredible jaw rocked my life. I met her afterwards. She spoke to me, saying… “You’re welcome.” There was a definite connection, I just felt it. So, expect to hear about a divorce from Taye Diggs soon. Me and that jaw are going to spend a happy future together. After the show, I watched the Wake game with Ashley Eldridge as we destroyed the Seminoles 30-0. I hate Florida State. The next day, we went to church at Hillsong London, which was incredible. Then, I went to catch my flight that night, only to find that I had missed it by two hours. Long story short, I had to buy a new ticket, spend the night in the London airport ALONE, and I cried for three hours straight. Oh yeah, and I stood in line for 10 minutes to buy a ticket home to America. I was like, “I’ll just fly back with my family next week.” Great logic, right? Oh yeah, and I didn’t tell my mom until a week and a half later. Oops.

Paris

I don’t ever want to be quoted on this, but Paris may have been my favorite place I have visited. Don’t get me wrong. My distaste for the French is clearly still at a steady “A lot” and I think Jacque Chirac is a tool and a half, but the city was freakin incredible. Well, I didn’t think so from the beginning. When we got there, we went to our hostel. We stepped out of the metro station and looked around, bewildered and scared. There were neon flashing lights, illegal cigarette vendors, trash everywhere, and a smelly chill in the air (yeah… a smelly chill). I looked around and was ecstatic to be standing in what appeared to be the red light district. We later found out that the Moulin Rouge was close to our hostel. Go figure. We started looking around for our hostel and I jokingly pointed at a building with neon lights on it and was like, “We are staying in the porn shop.” Well, as luck would have it, that building was, in fact, not a porn shop. It was our hostel. Well, we entered the front door to see signs saying, “Please do not leave anything valuable in your room.” How comforting. We checked in after the guy went next door to get change (what an efficient operation) and headed up to our room. Luckily, we had a four person room and a nice, non-stealing German girl as our roommate. We went and got pizza and went to sleep. The next day, we totally dominated Paris, starting with the Arc d’Triumph. We went all over the city, seeing everything. We spent about three and a half hours just staring at the Eiffel Tower. That night we went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo. It was so awesome seeing all that. Chrissie was a ridiculously good tour guide. That night for dinner, we walked around for a while looking for a place and eventually stumbled on this baked potato restaurant. Amazing, and vaguely American. The next day, we again dominated sightseeing, hollering at Notre Dame and other random famous places. We saw Sacre Cour and drank hot wine, which I was skeptical of, but enjoyed. We saw Andie and her mom, who looks and acts like Molly Shannon. We also stopped and took a picture with our waiter at the restaurant who looked like Little Richard. We told him that he looked like me and Evan’s best friend from America, and Evan repeatedly called him Little Richie. That night, we saw this amazing photo exhibit and then went to dinner at this Italian place, where we ate… steak. Normal, right? Then, we had plans to go out, but to no avail. We got tired… and tried to find a cab in the rain for 45 minutes. We thought we found one, but then a woman behind us pointed out that there was a long line of about 50 people. Evan turned around and slowly transforming from his normal voice to that of a large black woman, said, “Oh y’all are standing in a… a line? Y’all is crazy as anything? Y’alls crazy. What is wrong wich y’all muh’s? Das ridiculus.” The people who understood English either laughed or just stared while me, Chrissie, and Bethany cried laughing. We woke up the next morning at 5:25 with the intention of leaving at 5:45, only to find that the front door was locked and the man behind the desk was nowhere to be found. I pounded on the desk with an empty glass orange juice bottle and went behind the desk to search for keys, to no avail. We eventually decided to make as much noise as possible, in hopes of him coming out, which he finally did with a half-smile on his face. I almost punched him square in the throat. He let us out, and we returned to Valencia triumphantly.