Bonjour à Paris

.... I almost didn't make it.

I either have the best or the worst luck ever because it was my last day in London and I thought I'd take a walk down Portabello Rd. We stopped for a quick bite to eat, spirits were high and the menu looked delic. It had only been about three minutes when I looked down and my purse was no longer there. It was at that exact moment that I started to freak: my passport was in there.

We searched and there was no sign. Bumming cigarettes from Katie, we trekked up the hill to the police station while my parents screamed at me on the phone. Not only was my passport in there, but also my green card (I'm not a US citizen yet). I filled out a police report avec tears to a dumbass police officer who was more interested in how I liked New York. I canceled all my credit cards, called Passport Control and they told me the earliest they could get me an appointment to fill out the paperwork would be Wednesday. It would take another week at least to get it to me.

Did I have a place to stay? Non. Did I have any money? Non. Was I screwed? Mais oui.

We walked back to the scene of the crime, ironically directly across the street from the travel book store that Hugh Grant woked at in Notting Hill. I vowed never to watch that movie again.

Miraculously within two hours Katie received a call from the police station saying my passport was found. Huge sigh of relief. They didn't know what else, but to come back to the station to retrieve it. So I trekked back up the hill, this time at a bit more ease. I walked in to see my purse was there. The only things missing was cash from my wallet (10 pounds) and my cell phone (which wasn't mine, sorry Conor). The culprit wasn't even a smoker. Credit cards, sunglasses, my silly magnet I bought...all there. I couldn't believe it.

So one thing was out of the way, I could continue my travels and eventually be able to make it back into the US. But then I realized I had no money, ATM card was canceled as well as my credit cards. Thank god for Western Union.

Needless to say. I didn't make it to Donnie Darko.

But I made it to Paris and realize that my French isn't as bad as I thought and that they really don't hate Americans (that much). I went to the top of the Tour de Eiffel yesterday and spent today at the Louvre. Tomorrow: Scotland.

C'est la vie.