or stroll down the block to smell freshly baked pastries before they officially say they've been welcomed to Paris. After a few minutes of daydreaming, the taxi arrived at the apartment. As I got out of the car hoping to smell the freshly baked bread from a boulangerie down the street, I got treated to something else. It wasn't a cloud of cigarette smoke, or even a waft an old Frenchman's B.O., but it was the smell of a freshly deposited pile of dog poo. Making it even better, the person who was giving me the keys to the place witnessed it all, and said with a little laugh, "Bienvenue a Paris-- I think you've just been initiated!"Sunday, January 16, 2011
My Paris Initiation
I landed in Paris! Running on adrenaline, I hopped into a taxi to meet my landlord to gain access to my soon-to-be apartment. As the taxi took me into the city, I caught a glimpse of the Eiffel Tour and started thinking that I should begin my day with a hot croissant (and possibly even some champagne) to kick-off the exchange. And it didn't end with croissants... I think everyone wants to immediately indulge in a crepe, the cheese, the wine, 
or stroll down the block to smell freshly baked pastries before they officially say they've been welcomed to Paris. After a few minutes of daydreaming, the taxi arrived at the apartment. As I got out of the car hoping to smell the freshly baked bread from a boulangerie down the street, I got treated to something else. It wasn't a cloud of cigarette smoke, or even a waft an old Frenchman's B.O., but it was the smell of a freshly deposited pile of dog poo. Making it even better, the person who was giving me the keys to the place witnessed it all, and said with a little laugh, "Bienvenue a Paris-- I think you've just been initiated!"
or stroll down the block to smell freshly baked pastries before they officially say they've been welcomed to Paris. After a few minutes of daydreaming, the taxi arrived at the apartment. As I got out of the car hoping to smell the freshly baked bread from a boulangerie down the street, I got treated to something else. It wasn't a cloud of cigarette smoke, or even a waft an old Frenchman's B.O., but it was the smell of a freshly deposited pile of dog poo. Making it even better, the person who was giving me the keys to the place witnessed it all, and said with a little laugh, "Bienvenue a Paris-- I think you've just been initiated!"
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Oh Ben, you will get your freshly baked croissant before you know it. Speaking of bread, make a trip to Poilane, your French friends may have a better recommendation but this one of the best.
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