Mountain Misadventure

Well, if you’ve ever been on a hike with me, you know there are plenty of things that could possibly go wrong*.

So I’d read about this hike in the guidebook, and basically my takeaway from that was “you can ride the gondola all the way back down the like a loser, but you’re on a mountain in Europe, have some pride, put forth a modicum of physical effort, and actually get out there and do something, instead of just snapping a picture from the cable car like every other ungrateful American”.

I feel like most travel guidebooks are written for people at or approaching retirement age, which is perhaps why I got it into my head that this hike was going to be like 45 minutes long. Also key was that the guidebook described the hike as mostly slightly downhill, with a few brief uphills, and since ultimately you’d still need to take the train to get back to the town, it didn’t really occur to me that this might be a strenuous activity. 

Maybe my first warning that things weren’t going to go quite as I had envisioned them should have come at the guidepost, where the posted length for the Montenvers Mer de Glace hike was 2 hours and 15 minutes.

Man, it’s pretty though, isn’t it? And look at all of those other hikers**! If all these people are doing it, surely it must be an activity for everyone.

So this was maybe going to take a little longer than I had anticipated, probably slightly longer than the sign since I’m sometimes a slow walker, but no worries. I was in great spirits, singing Edelweiss in my head and feeling bad for all the chumps on the gondola who were missing this  incredible experience.

Selfie assessment: I think we can all agree this is the best selfie of the trip so far. 

Then the second indication that I was in for an interesting afternoon was when this happened:

RIP iPhone screen. I’m proud of you for surviving numerous drops at the gym, and that puddle on New Year’s Eve in New Orleans, but the granite of Mont Blanc (or whatever mountain this is) was sadly no match for you. You’ll be missed.

The thing is though, I’ve had the phone for more than 3 years, we’ve had a good run, so even the demise of its screen wasn’t enough to get me down. The rest of the phone appeared functional, so I carried on.

Maybe it was all that fresh mountain air, but I was having a great time. I couldn’t believe how beautiful everything was. And green. Like, really, really green. There were flowers in bloom and bees buzzing around, but not hordes of bees or anything, just a few here and there to add to the ambiance. It was all I could do not to stop every 5 minutes to take  pictures like these:

Looking down into the valley.

Looking up at the ridgeline. 

Looking forward at the path ahead.

Weirdly during the walk I’d seen a fair amount of scat on the trail, but no animals (other than the bees). The scat seemed fresh so I wondered if there were animals nearby, maybe further up the mountain that I was missing because, well, because honestly the trail was a little uneven, and I really needed to watch my steps closely. I learned quickly that if I wanted to take a look at something, I needed to stop, and then turn my head. If I turned while I was walking, I inevitably tripped. I mean tripped every time. And there were no guardrails or anything up there, so if I wasn’t careful, I was going down.

So I was paying attention to my steps and everything when I heard a  clanging noise up ahead. I paused, as did the people in front of me, and the clanging grew louder and closer and multiplied. And then, what do we see come around the corner, but a PARADE OF MOUNTAIN GOATS just out for a little stroll.

Comin’ through!

Man, this is the best hike ever!

Though…come to think of it I had been out there kind of a while. Hmm, well, just keep going, I’m sure the end is coming soon.

Ah, yes, another signpost was up ahead, I felt like I had to be at least 3/4 of the way through, well I mean I hoped I was since I’d been out here for 2 hours already.

Huh. Sign says I still have 1 hour, 10 minutes to go.

That is…that is more than half of the hike left.

And those clouds behind me, they were not the innocent white fluffy ones from this morning. They’re looking a little, uh, gray, and menacing.

Okay, well, no way to go but forward, I said to myself, and resolved to stop for fewer pictures and pick up the pace a little bit.

The really cruel part of this sign placement is that directly after it, so just after you realize that you’re not very far along at all, the trail goes suddenly and extremely vertical. So not only are you dragging about how much is left, but you’re climbing up 8 switchbacks, all in a row, muscles burning and lungs completely sucking wind. 

But then you get to the top (almost to the top) and you turn around and there are a few more picturesque goats grazing and you think, “you can do this!”.

I know it looks like a gentle slope, but that is a trick of the camera. It was brutal.

You also think “was that a raindrop I felt? how much would it suck if it started raining while I was up here?”, so then you drag yourself onward.

Maybe this hike would have gone better if I had eaten lunch, instead of just getting a Milka bar*** at the observation deck in Italy, or packed more than one measly water bottle, but no use dwelling on the past now.

I was doing okay and trying my best to keep a good pace going, but the thing that was slowing me down was that the terrain really was kind of rough. There were some sections where the trail was a nice path, but many more where it was nothing more than rocks. So in those I found myself trying to navigate the most level way forward, trying not to step  on loose rocks, and trying to keep my balance so as not to fall sideways off the mountain and tumble down into town.

An example of a rocky stretch of trail. This is one of those “brief uphill” bits I’d read about.

This is probably also about that time that I started getting concerned about the time. Not only did I have the impending storm to worry about, I’d seen that the last cogwheel train down the mountain was at 5:00pm. I’d completed a little less than half of the trail in 2 hours, so at that pace it would take me 4 hours to complete the whole thing. And if I had started at 12:45pm, that meant I would finish at…frankly, a little closer to the last train of the day  than I was comfortable with.

Finally, I went around a bend and could see a glacial valley opening up in front of me. That must be the Mer de Glace, which means the end of this hike must be near. Great.

Literally no picture has ever been taken of any person, anywhere, that more accurately captures their exact feelings at the moment it was taken than this picture right here. (Selfie assessment: perfection.)

It was shortly after this picture was snapped that the battery on my phone died. 

From this point on it was significantly downhill, and while you’d think that would have been good news, I can’t say that it was. Sure, uphill is tough on your cardiovascular and muscular systems, but the problem is that downhill is murder on your joints. And while you can slow things down a little on the uphill to give your lungs a rest, there’s really not any way to soften the blows on the downhill. So my ankles, my feet, my knees- oh my poor knees- they were feeling it.

I finally made it to the train station, which sold a plethora of trinkets and souvenirs but disappointingly no water bottles, and got in line to go back to town. It was 4:15pm. The hike had taken me 3 and a half hours.

Oh, and the gondola to the ice caves had definitely already closed half an hour before.

Met some nice young gentlemen from England on the train, and we chatted for a bit, but I was glad when we parted ways because I wouldn’t have wanted them to see what ended up happening next. As I was walking through town, keeping my eyes peeled for a shop that might sell bottled water, I noticed 2 people standing aside the decorative fountain in the town square. The one guy was taking a picture, but the other guy, he had his hands out and was cupping the water and taking a drink. He didn’t immediately drop dead of bacterial poisoning, and that was good enough for me. I’m not necessarily proud of this, but yes, I filled up my water bottle from the fountain and drank it right on the spot.

You know what though? All’s well that ends well! I trudged back to the hotel, found the strength to put on my swimsuit, and went up to the roof for a well-deserved soak in the jacuzzi. And of course the rain started falling as soon as I walked out on the deck, and of course the jacuzzi water wasn’t even that warm, but no matter. I looked up at the mountains and was overwhelmed with pride, for now I had a visual of how far I’d actually walked, and it really was kind of unbelievable. 

I ended the night with dinner at the Bistrot des Sports, a restaurant that’s been in Chamonix forever. The food wasn’t that great and the service was nothing to write home about, but I didn’t care, because it was in that very restaurant that a couple of Chamonix businessmen came up with the idea for the Winter Olympics, nearly 100 years ago.

Pretty awesome day.

*For a prime example, see the 2015 case of Sarah, Beth & Emily v. Mount Roberts.

**Yes, look at the other hikers. Look at how the other hikers are outfitted. Many have legit packs. Some have trekking poles. I’d find out later that those you don’t see with trekking poles in the picture probably just hadn't taken then poles out of their packs yet. I did not have a pack or trekking poles.

***Which was delicious, I’m not knocking the Milka in any way.

Mountain Adventure

The plan for today was as follows:

• Wake up early (remember, that storm is a-brewin') and walk to the gondola station.
• Take the gondola to Plan de l'Aiguille*, a viewpoint midway up the mountains.
• Take a second gondola to Aiguille du Midi, the viewpoint at the top of the mountains.
• Take a third gondola- a télécabine panoramique- to Helbronner Point and back. Helbronner Point is near the Italian side, and the ride across from Midi to Helbronner is supposed to give you stunning views of Mont Blanc.
• Re-take second gondola back down to Plan de l'Aiguille.
• Hike the Grand Balcon Nord trail to Montenvers and the Mer de Glace, the "sea of ice" glacier.
• Take a fourth gondola to the Mer de Glace ice caves.
• Ride the cogwheel train back down to Chamonix.

So, maybe a slightly ambitious plan but fairly straightforward. Go up the mountain, see the stuff, go down the mountain.

Things got off to a great start. I was on the 9:20am gondola up to Plan de l'Aiguille, and the weather could not have been more perfect. Sunny, clear skies, and warm but not too warm. I couldn't believe my luck.

I also couldn't believe how beautiful it was.

Panoramic view from Aiguille du Midi.

Selfie Assessment: not bad, but keep in mind this is the best of the no less than 6 selfies I took from this spot (and 15 overall from the Midi observation area), oh and a real thing that happened- someone saw me struggling and just offered to take the pictures himself.

Looking down across the Chamonix/Mont Blanc/(???) valley.

After taking a staggering number of pictures**, I transferred into one of the cute little gondolas pictured below for the ride over to Helbronner Point. The trip was fantastic; it lasted about 25 minutes and took you across what was almost a valley of snow at the top of the mountains.

On the way over there I shared a gondola with an older married couple who did not seem thrilled to be sharing with me, but on the way back I'd get my own gondola, take that suckas!

Note the crazy people hiking in the bottom, just right of center.

I got to the Helbronner Point side and it looked like there was an observation deck there too, so I got out of the gondola to explore a little. And what should greet me but this nifty little sign!

I guess Helbronner Point is not adjacent to Italy, but actually in Italy! Who knew?! No passport stamp opportunity though, unfortunately.

With the Italian Alps and even some of the Swiss Alps behind me. One of those mountain peaks is the Matterhorn. (Selfie assessment: my one eye looks very suspicious of the camera and of course the background is crooked, but I guess this one is fine.)

I stayed just for a little while at Helbronner Point, but then remembered the forecast and figured I shouldn't dawdle too long, and got in the gondola to go back to the Chamonix side.

I thought that was Mont Blanc in the center.

But then I got to this peak and it looked pretty high too, so maybe this one was Mont Blanc?

The view opposite the two peaks that may or may not have been Mont Blanc. I am pretty certain that nothing in this picture is Mont Blanc.

So far, so good! Everything was going according to plan and the weather was still good and it was only about 12:45! What could possibly go wrong...

*Despite extensive pre-trip research, and all the time spent in the area today, I still have no idea how to pronounce "Aiguille".

**And also taking a brief rest to catch my breath because the air is thin up there for real.

Ridin' the Rails

It was hard* saying goodbye to Natalie, Christie and the rest of Sancerre this morning, but I was excited to move on to my next destination- Chamonix, a small town on the far eastern edge of France, just across the border from Italy and at the base of Mont Blanc.

I got to Paris around 1pm, and had a little time before my next train at 3pm.  I briefly considered dropping off my luggage and heading into the city one last time, but instead decided it would be wiser to stick around the train station. And it's not like I was slumming it at the train station:

Gare de Lyon, French for "Wow that's a fancy train station", or so I assume.

I had lunch at the French equivalent of Tim Horton's, where my sandwich came with a drink and an eclair!

It can't be duck confit for every meal, but this was pretty good too.

Luckily nothing too exciting happened** on any of the three following train rides. The weather was good and the scenery was gorgeous. 

My view as we were at a stop near the entry of the Chamonix valley***.

I finally arrived in Chamonix a little before 9pm. It is fantastic. Everything you'd think a little French alpine ski village should be, it is. I walked through a bit of town on my way to the hotel, and there is a river running right down the middle, and cute, quaint little shops, and flowers everywhere.

Yes this is a real place!!!

The sun was just setting, and there were people out walking around and sitting down for drinks or dinner at all of the restaurants and outdoor cafes. I made my way quickly to the hotel so I could get back out and join everyone!

Front of my hotel, the Park Hotel Suisse.

Panoramic shot out my hotel room window. I guess this will suffice.

I found a restaurant right on the main street, and ordered French Onion Soup (just onion soup in France), and what I thought was a pint of raspberry beer. I mean, there were 3 different sizes listed on the menu, but they were all in mL or some crazy measuring unit we don't use in America, and I asked the waiter- who spoke English very well and so must have just seen an opportunity to mess with me- which size was about a pint, because I didn't want one of those little wine glasses, you know? So he pointed to the middle size, and I said okay, and then next thing I know, a gallon of beer was being delivered to my table. 

It is hard to tell in the picture, but I had to use both hands to lift the glass and yes, the people at the table across the way did laugh at me.

The beer was basically both my appetizer and my dessert.

The forecast for tomorrow looks good in the morning, but then there's potential for storms in the afternoon, so I need to get to bed and get up an at 'em early!

*No, like actually, it was hard. I'm not going to get into it here, but if not for the pair of friendly German wedding guests taking me on a little detour as they tried to leave for Frankfort, I would still be in Sancerre.

**Not that there wasn't potential for something exciting. And disastrous. When switching trains at Bellegarde, I went to the correct track, and somehow had the presence of mind to confirm my train with one of the staff people standing nearby. (When I say confirm, I mean, point at my ticket and point at the train and say "oui?") I did not have an assigned seat on this train, so I would have just gotten on the first car, had the person not steered me further back. Apparently the trains COME APART while you are riding, and if I'd gotten into the first car I would have gone to a completely different place. Tricky!

***Probably is not called Chamonix valley. Probably is Mont Blanc valley, or, really, I don't know.

Le Mariage

Natalie’s younger sister Lara is going to have a tough act to follow when she plans her wedding, as Natalie’s wedding really could not have been more perfect.

The day started with a trip to the local salon for the bridesmaids to get their hair done. When Natalie asked me last month if I wanted to get my hair done too, I considered the expense, but then also considered that I wouldn’t have a curling iron or possibly even a hair drier with me, and the hair appointment seemed like a pretty wise idea.  

Brilliant idea, actually, I looooooved the way my hair turned out.

The three women working at the salon were extremely talented and worked quickly, despite the language barriers. Natalie and one of the bridesmaids, Anjuli, were able to provide some translation, but for the most part hand gestures and head nods seem to do the trick.  The stylists got quite a kick out of all of us too. When bridesmaid Jessie took out the bottle of champagne and started mixing it with raspberry sorbet, one of them smiled and said (in French) “little early in the morning to be drinking, no?”. Anjuli heard her and commented that of course it wasn't, this was a wedding! Then she asked what French bridesmaids do, and the woman explained that in France, they don’t have bridesmaids. The bride might have a few little girls stand up with her, but otherwise, the wedding isn’t that big of a deal. She doesn’t even usually get her hair done for it, and she certainly doesn’t have an entourage of 7 more women getting their hair done as well. Anjuli told her that in America, it’s like a long party all day long for the bride and the bridesmaids, and the stylist just shrugged and said she thought we were British.

The wedding was scheduled to start at 5, so after some lunch and relaxation time, we all got ready, and made our way to the venue. The ceremony was taking place at what was essentially a large patio outside of one of the town’s government buildings, overlooking the hillside below. It was gorgeous. I mean, like, the kind of setting that you’d see in a movie and think no way does anyone in real life ever get married at a place like that. 

Oh, I should also mention that by this time, the weather in France had  returned to normal temperatures capable of supporting human life, so in addition to having an impossibly gorgeous setting, Natalie and Joe got an impossibly gorgeous day too.

Natalie & Joe exchanging rings under the chuppah.

Me & Natalie after the wedding- finally got to wear the black sparkly dress!!!

After the wedding there were pictures and a French tradition called a champagne toast*, and then it was time for dinner. We walked a few blocks, back to the square near where we were staying, and went to the restaurant, Sacripanti. It was a good thing those few blocks of walking were included, because we were about to partake in one of the most gluttonous meals of our lives.

Wine: white

First course: gazpacho soup- cold and refreshing, with little bits of cheese, delicious

Second course: salad**

Bread: of course there was bread, it’s France, there’s always bread

Wine: switched here to red

Main course: candied duck leg- prepared like roasted chicken but even more tasty; potato something- incredible, could have licked plate; green beans- is important to have vegetables; mixed mushrooms- tasty but was starting to get full

Um…next course: fruit salad- blackberries (yum), strawberries (yum), blueberries (skipped those), and unknown small red berries that looked like big pomegranate seeds, but lighter red in color and very tart (yum)

Cheese plate: of course there was a cheese plate, it’s France, there’s always a cheese plate

Dessert: macarons cake with sparklers on top- see below

Bonus Dessert: variety of tarts, I selected some sort of custard variety  and it was phenomenal

Natalie & Joe’s wedding “cake” was six tiers of brightly-colored macarons, topped with three giant sparklers, that, when the restaurant dimmed the lights and delivered it to the bride and groom, really brought the house down.

The meal lasted 4 and a half delicious hours.

Following dinner, the party moved out to the square so the dancing could begin. Neither Natalie nor Joe fell off their chairs when they were lifted up for the chair dance, though Natalie’s grandma did get a little carried away during the Hava and crashed into one of the barricades***.

I don’t recall what song Natalie & Joe are dancing here to for their first dance, but I definitely know what song Natalie used for her father-daughter dance. Bonus points if you can guess too. Marea- I know you can get this one.

The day and the night were both magical, and at several points I found myself saying, “I can’t believe this is real.” It was such an honor to get to celebrate with Natalie, and I hope she enjoyed the day as much as I and all of the other guests did.

Good luck Lara.

*Exactly what it sounds like.

**Honestly don’t really remember much about this course.

***She is the coolest Grandma ever, just brushed it off and was totally fine.

Belle's Village

All leading up to this trip, I was joking that Sancerre, the village where Natalie's wedding would take place, looked like the inspiration for the village where Belle grew up in Beauty and the Beast.

The joke was real.

This is Belle's village.

View from the tower, looking out over the village and the vineyards beyond. I am staying in the white house just left of the center.

Christie and I took the train from Paris to Sancerre this morning, and arrived in the village shortly after noon. After hugs with Natalie, we met up with some of the other wedding guests for a wine tour. The guide took us to their facility in town, told us a little about their wines, and then we went down two floors to the cave (pronounced caaaav), where saw their oak barrel storage and sampled a few wines.

Yes I like winery tours almost as much as I like brewery tours.

After the tour I had some free time to walk around the village and look for Belle, Maurice, Gaston, etc*.

The village square.

Cute side street in village. Could be any street. They are all this cute.

Belle's house?!?!

Yes, this is a real place. Not EPCOT.

Oh, you know, just your average chateau and gardens on the edge of town.

We finished up the day with the wedding rehearsal**, a delicious pizza rehearsal dinner, and drinks & live music at Martine's bar, down the street.

Natalie in her casual white dress, walking to the rehearsal.

Check out Natalie's parents dancing on the left. So adorable. 

Tomorrow is the big day! Can't wait!!!

*Obviously did not find any of them since Belle & Maurice have moved on to live at the Beast's beautiful and secluded castle, and Gaston had that unfortunate roof accident.

**I have been asked to be the official usher/bouncer/musical director/DJ Jazzy Beth. Very excited.

The Hottest Women in Paris

I know it is wrong to complain about a trip to Europe in any way, so please note that I am not complaining and rather only stating a fact- it is still very, very hot*.

I was fortunate to start my day today with a familiar face. Natalie's friend Christie arrived in Paris this morning, and we'd made plans for her to come to the apartment and spend the night, so we could travel to the wedding together the next day. Christie arrived around 9am, and since she was a little tired from her flights, she stayed back to rest and shower while I headed out.

My first stop was Notre Dame cathedral, a short walk from the apartment. For 10 euros they let you climb a steep, tight, stone spiral staircase to the top, and then walk out across the walkway at the front of the building. The stairs were challenging, but the view was well worth it:

One of the tower's famous gargoyles; can you see the Eiffel Tower in the background?

View in the other direction. The building I'm staying in is one of the ones on the island behind me. (Selfie assessment: meh. I'm sorta making a face, but hopefully the amazing view behind me distracts from this fact, and also that the view is crooked.)

One of the gigantic bells in the bell tower. (Selfie assessment: wish I could have taken this at an angle which actually captured the size of the bell, instead of just highlighting my very sweaty face.)

After walking across the walkway, people were corralled and released in groups. It took me a moment to figure out what the hold up was. It was not to limit the number of people going down at a time, but rather to limit the people going up. As in, where we were standing on the walkway, we were only halfway up.

I was feeling pretty winded and maybe** a little dehydrated, so I briefly considered skipping this and just going down, but when am I going to get this opportunity again?! So, huffing and puffing, I went. I'm glad I did and I wish I had taken some better pictures from the top to share, but sadly you'll just have to take my word for it that it was awesome.

After the morning's ascent I felt that I probably owed myself a little treat, and also was quite thirsty, so it was convenient that I had a lunch reservation to get to. On the fantastic advice of my sister-in-law, I'd be dining at Angelina, a restaurant that opened in 1903, and which is known for its hot chocolate. Spoiler alert- it was much too hot for hot chocolate. Luckily everything else on their menu was equally delicious. I had quiche lorraine and their signature dessert, the Mont Blanc-

The brown stuff on the outside tasted a little weird, but the white creamy buttery goodness on the inside was to die for.

Next on the schedule was another ascent, but thankfully this one had an elevator. Thanks to my diligence of waking up in the middle of the night not once but twice a few months ago, I had a 1:30pm ticket to the Eiffel Tower summit.

View of Eiffel Tower from...hmm...I'm going to go with Champ de Mars, though I cannot be 100% certain.

Getting to the top of the tower requires two separate (hot, sweaty & jam-packed) elevator rides, which I kind of remember from 1994. What I don't remember from 1994, possibly because it wasn't there and possibly because I was underage, was the champagne bar at the top. So I felt like I should partake in that, you know, just to get the full experience.

(Selfie assessment: dare I say- I actually like this one? Smiling- check, looking at camera- check, champagne glass visible- check, background scenery straight- ...sigh)

It was time for a little break and some water, so I made my way back to the apartment. Christie had gotten settled in and then gone out to do a little exploring of her own, so together we reviewed our mornings and remarked on the temperature. Not ones to let a little minor heatstroke slow us down, we pressed on.

Next stop was Sainte Chappelle, which I gather was the former personal chapel of King Louie some-number-or-other. I am not the history buff in the family, I am the photography buff in the family, and yet my skills don't begin to do justice to this breathtakingly beautiful space.

I mean like literally, breathtaking. I walked in and just whispered "whoa" and then my jaw fell open.

The one other thing I really wanted to see in Paris, which I had not seen previously, was the Sacre Couer cathedral in the Montmartre district. Though nothing in Paris is terribly far, Montmartre is a bit out of the center of the city. Scare Couer is one of Paris's "newer" cathedrals, having been completed in 1919.

Montmartre is known to be quite hilly, and in fact the site for the Sacre Couer was selected so it could be seen above the other points in Paris. We walked uphill for a few blocks, and then blessedly rode the funicular up the rest of the way, because I'd had enough climbing for one day. You can climb to the top of the Sacre Couer's dome, which is 300 steps up and is supposed to have a fabulous view of the city, but frankly, how many fabulous views did I need in one day? My legs were exhausted; they needed some sitting. I told Christie I'd wait for her if she wanted to do it, but somehow she resisted the urge as well.

Instead, we joined several of the locals in sitting on the steps in front, and just looked out over the city, and chatted, and watched the world go by. We were in the shade and getting a little breeze, and, along with all the Parisians sitting nearby, it seemed like the perfect thing to do.

(Selfie assessment: again pretty good, so chances are Christie took this one.)

When we got hungry we walked back down the hill and found a cafe for dinner. Well, dinner and a show. At all of the outdoor cafes in Paris, the seats at the tables are not across from each other, but rather next to each other, and facing the street, so you can see and be seen***. It was a quintessential Parisian experience, right down to the people smoking behind us and the waiter suggesting the snails as an appetizer. We skipped the smoking but I'm proud to say we tried the snails!

The snails had the consistency of mushrooms and were smothered in garlic butter. Would eat again.

Last stop on the whirlwind day in Paris- back to the Eiffel Tower, to see it all lit up for the evening. This time we went to the Place du Trocadero, which afforded us these incredible views:

As the sun was setting****

When they turned the sparkle lights on

And with that, our long, hot day has ended, now it's time to get some sleep before we travel to Sancerre tomorrow!

*Like, the kind of hot where you're walking around the city, sweating, and thinking you'd do anything for a bubbler, but the French don't seem to believe in this basic city infrastructure, so instead you'd pay upwards of 5 euros- okay make it 10- for a bottle of water, and yet none of the enterprising souls who were out last night trying to sell you one are anywhere to be found. So you think, oh good, I need to take the Metro next, it will be cooler underground. And it is...until you get in the subway car, with hundreds of other sweltering Parisians and tourists and saxophone players, and you're smashed so tightly you're not sure if the bead of sweat on your arm came from you or the next guy. Ew. And then you get out and walk up 5 flights of stairs to your super-cute apartment and remember the bottle of water in your mini-fridge, and you smile through the heavy breathing because you know that everything will be fine after all.

**Definitely

***Not like I was in any condition to be seen.

****Picture was snapped at 10:24pm. Feel like I was pretty lucky to be there on one of the longest days of the year.