Riding over cobblestones in a wheelchair is a curious sensation. Not entirely comfortable, but not altogether unpleasant either. And there are lots , and I do mean lots, of cobblestones in Paris. Every day is like an amusement park ride.
If you stay in Paris long enough, you start to develop a certain contempt for things American. The food here is better, the people here are thinner, the parks are nicer, and the buildings are more interesting. Of course, in the States, I don’t have to usually worry about jumping a six inch curb to cross the street. Perhaps travel is meant to remind you of the things you take for granted at home.
My high school French teacher would be proud of me. Most of the time, I can achieve a basic level of communication with Parisiens. I probably speak like a seventh grade drop out, but I’m also remembering words that had fallen into the synaptic cracks of my brain. I suppose that as long as people aren’t laughing when I open my mouth, I’m doing okay.
I’ll write more about my specific activities once I can post pictures. I’m still using a public computer and I don’t want to dump my photos onto its hard drive. Tomorrow, I leave on a train for Berlin. Hopefully, another overseas dispatch will be forthcoming in a couple of days. A bientot.
I was wondering about the accessablity when I visited NY I could belive it! Thats amazing that your high school french was good enough to communicate in your teach should be proud!