After nine hours of sipping champagne and munching on cubed cheese, Grégoire and I landed in Paris. Greg's best friend, Matthieu, was waiting for us in a car that he semi-legally borrowed from work. I climbed in to the back-seat of the petite automobile pinned between two of the four suitcases containing all of our possessions. As we rolled in to Paris I was feeling tired and slightly traumatized. Leaving America and my life in Seattle wasn't easy, even if it was my idea.
We made a quick stop at the café for an espresso and buttered bread as we headed to Levallois-Perret, the Mercer Island of Paris. Our two friends Matthieu and Caroline are hosting us. They are both young journalists and live relatively rugged lives for this sleepy, affluent suburb of Paris.
That afternoon we jumped right in to the task at hand, finding a place to live. We visited our first potential neighborhood, the 12th arrondissement. In an effort to fight off our jetlag and view the area from above, we walked along the celebrated Promenade Plantée (www.promenade-plantee.org).
This park cuts through southeast Paris following the path of an old elevated tramway. The views were gorgeous, the flowers were in bloom and I could hardly keep my eyes open. Oh jet lag! Why are you so cruel?