Feast or Famine

"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast."

-Ernest Hemingway

About six months ago, I admitted to Micah over dinner that "I hate Paris." Hate might be too strong of a word, but I definitely would never describe it as a 'movable feast.' My dislike was sparked by an unfortunate incident in the Parisian subway many moons ago.

After my freshman year of college, my dear friend Julie and I decided we would backpack through Europe. We didn't exactly know the ins and outs of traveling through Europe, but were brave enough to give it a go. I would like to say that we were dramatically robbed in the Parisian subway when we lost a small fortune, but instead we naively handed over a large sum to a man who we assumed in good faith was buying us a three day subway pass.

Shockingly he pocketed the money, and we got a very expensive one way ride back to the lonely Aloha Hostel. Mourning the loss of several hundred dollars, we decided to forgo more jamon y fromage and high tail it out of there to the greener pastures of Budapest, Hungary.

Micah convinced me to give it another go with tales of good food and wine. We decided to make both Amsterdam and Paris a stop on the way to Tanzania. Luckily, the second time around was much nicer. Having some one to hold hands with while strolling through Paris definitely helped. So did drinking good wine under the Eiffel Tower, and the numerous delicious lemon sorbets and crepes! I have to say now that I have had a change of heart.