Good Morning, England!

Mon Dieu!

I mean...bloody he**!

Where are we, anyway?

Well, after a string of tearful goodbyes and frantic last visits to all our favorite sights and restaurants, we said goodbye to Paris last Friday. I'm still not even sure how to process leaving the City of Lights. When we set out on this adventure I knew we'd have culture shock, I knew we'd spend months, even years battling the stereotype of the Dumb Americans in Tennis Shoes, I knew we'd struggle with the language. I didn't know we'd make wonderful, lifelong friends. I didn't know that eighteen months later, the sight of the sun hitting the Seine beyond the Pont des Arts would still take my breath away. I didn't know that my trek across the 7th on Rue de Grenelle would become as familiar as a walk down Broadway in Nyack. I didn't know I would fall so deeply in love with Paris.

I spent my last three weeks (largely without Jeff, who had already started his new job in the UK) frantically hitting exhibits - a terrific photography show by Willy Ronis, the amazing Yves St. Laurent retrospective at the Petit Palais, the Catacombs (I would not recommend going solo, very creepy!), the "Crime and Punishment" show at the D'Orsay... and saying goodbye to friends. Here we are at Bistrot Peres et Filles, my crazy Parisian posse. There were dinners, picnics, awards ceremonies... it was all too much. THEN the mad scramble to please difficult Parisian landlady who sounded very much like Cinderella stepmother. "Before you go to the Ball - er, Baff (they don't say "th"s here) you must clean the sofas, wash the windows, replace the lightbulbs, scrub the walls," etc. I really became a nut job as I watched our security deposit tick downwards to zero. But it was also like the city was telling me it was time to leave.

Then, finally, it was over. The taxi came and in we went. The second we turned onto Boulevard St. Germain for the eastward drive out of the city the tears started rolling down my cheeks. Josie, little brow furrowed mightily, declared "I'm sad, too!" We said goodbye to all our favorite things (see list on left), Tower, Dome (Les Invalides), Castle (what she calls the Palais de Justice), Louvre (where Peter Pan sleeps on a couch, did you know that?), river. Lots of new photos that will trickle up slowly.

And now, here we are! And talk about culture shock! Everyone speaks English (sort of - still looking up wodges, scrummy, bangers, minger). People smile at you and say hello! Less than an hour after we moved in our neighbors next door arrived with flowers and a warm welcome (as opposed to the French "ehhh merde," and flicked cigarette butt). Now that we have two floors, it's taking us about six times as long to unpack. We've also moved from a furnished to an unfurnished flat, so we have quite a bit of furniture shopping and organizing to do. But Josie loves her long-promised Peppa Pig Bed and her "own room for toys" complete with new dollhouse assembled by moi. Will get pics up when flat doesn't look quite so shambolic (I think that's British for "messy").

True, we are already missing baguettes, Pompotes, and sunny park days. But I am also appreciating the new, small things... like being able to take a hot shower whenever the heck I want! Like shopping without a dictionary. Like being told I'm "brilliant" all the time. Like ordering pizza and cheesy garlic bread and having it brought to my door, with a smile and a "Cheers"! Like the blooming cherry tree next door that reminds me of home. Like finding ground turkey and non-sugar-drenched Cheerios in the supermarket! Like being able to walk outside in my (ok, only about 8' by 8', but still!) garden. Like not freezing in a dark, remote, unheated kitchen. Like an exciting election, in which I can follow about 80% of what's going on (there's that "minger" word again).

Oh, but speaking of freezing, we are completely inappropriately attired and outfitted. I'm sure there will be many posts about England's mercurial weather, but suffice to say one should leave the house dressed to accommodate rain, wind, sun, and about a 30-degree F swing in temperature depending on, well, wind, rain and sun. Why oh why didn't I place that large L.L. Bean order when I was in the States? Bollocks.

See? I'm getting the lingo already. More soon, mes amis. Cheers, then! Brilliant.