Portugal, England, France, Me.

Portugal was really, really nice-- warm, sunny (usually), full of friendly people and hills.

I flew into Porto, in the north of the country. Three nights there meant lots of time to explore the generously sloping roads all over the city, and admire the view from our hostel. It looked over the valley where the river cuts the city off from the port factories just across the way. Straight across was a view of the castle fort (Sé) and it lit up at night with a beautiful effect.

There was a lot of seafood eating and port wine tours-- everything was much cheaper than London and Paris, so it was easy to do everything we wanted without paying a ridiculous amount.

The people I travelled with are extremely chill and fun to be around. It felt like we went from one meal to the next, just using sightseeing as an excuse to kill time before more spicy chorizo sausage and vino verde.

Portuguese was definitely a problem for me-- understanding it was basically impossible until the very end of the trip. It sounds like a cross between Spanish and Polish, with soft slurred sounds that are really hard to imitate. Luckily, most of the people in Porto and Lisbon speak English, and all the restaurants in the center of both towns have multi-lingual menus.

We took the train from Porto to Lisbon, much of it sweeping past the coast. We got into Lisbon around dinner time, and dragged our bags over the cobblestones (but no hills, thank Deus).

Lisbon is much bigger and more centered around the ocean. It also happened to be a solid upper 60s and sunny for most of the time I was there. One day, we went up around the hills and ended up walking around in tee shirts, sweating and worried about sunburn. It was glorious.

My one qualm about the Portuguese (and Iberian) lifestyle is the fact that everything happens so late. We would hold off on eating dinner until 9 or 10, but then were forced to kill time until midnight to go out for a drink. Then, if you want to hang out at anything club-like, it doesn't get interesting until after 3am. I am quite used to my local closing at 11, and then going to a bar until 1 or 2 and then crashing and getting up at a reasonable hour the next day. The club we went to in Porto was really cool but basically dead when we left at 3am. SO bizarre.

The flight from Lisbon back to London was uneventful, thankfully. I just stared into space, listening to music, or read my book for most of it. With public transportation and the usual small things that add up, I didn't get home until midnight. Then I had to pack my bag, through my disgusting dirty clothes from a week of constant wear in the hamper, and sort through packages and letters from the fam. Understandably, getting up at 3:45 am after two hours of sleep was NOT fun.

The Eurostar to Paris was extremely chill. I rested my eyes and listened to people chatter in French and English.

Getting in to the Gare du Nord was exciting-- I really feel like I'm coming home, by being in Paris. After a long struggle whether to bring my bag to the Mère's and then run off to stalk the Chanel show, I decided to drop in on her and be rude about leaving after 5 minutes. But of course, the Mère topped me immediately.

She opened the door in her robe, faire la bised, and then told me she was going back to bed. "Make yourself a coffee!" she murmured down the stairs, and then her bedroom door shut. Okay.

It ended up being nice that she didn't want me to sit and chat, because I made it to the Grand Palais with my trusty camera with plenty of time to get situated for primo Chanel fashion show stalking. I struck a friendly but aloof friendship with the professional paps and photographers-- I didn't get in their way when someone famous was coming, and in exchange I was allowed to stand behind them. I actually saw a photographer physically block a girl and then yell at her in French because she was trying to stick her dinky little point-and-click in his shot. Which I really understand, frankly. That chick had NO business screwing up his money shot.

Celebrity checklist:
Claudia Schiffer
Rhianna
Kanye (obviously)
Anna Wintour (coming in with the glasses on, and then leaving with them off and a HUGE smile on her face... unsettling)
Mary Kate Olsen (Olsen sighting people!!)

Plus some French celebrities I didn't know and dozens of models still wearing the makeup. It was GORGEOUS-- their eyelids were heavy with golden iridescent shadow, and they had gold powder paint all down the center parts of their hair. It looked like someone (probably Uncle Karl) had gone hogwild with some gold paint and just accidentally gotten it all over his models. But it was cool.

It is both extremely weird and insanely right being back here. The gyspies are gone, replaced by little kids doing the "Is this your ring? Give me reward money for finding it on the ground" trick. I was almost offended that a kid tried in on me when I was walking to the Place de la Concorde. The big ferris wheel in Concorde is also gone. WTF? I will get the story from Madame later. They are doing construction on Le Bon Marché, and the Zara across the street has disappeared. At my apartment, the hotel across the street is renovating, the empty store next door has morphed into an awesome-looking flower and furniture place, and two very good-looking men have moved in. They chose to show up at the same time and breeze past me waiting to be buzzed in by the door. Of course some hot men moved in right after I left. Of course.

At the same time, nothing has changed. Some of the posters I remember are still up in the metro. One of the lines is perturbé because of a mouvement sociale (code for grève). The guy at Bon Marché with the black eye and enormous swollen jaw (from a fight? Moto crash?) is still not completely healed. I didn't acknowledge a homeless guy begging for money on the street and got called a slut. Madame's Gentleman Friend brought oysters for the weekend.

I need a bit of a dodo now, and then I will go walk around some more. I've already covered Concorde to Grande Palais, walked through the Tuileries to Saint Germain and then to Le Bon Marché. I also have not forgotten French, which is a plus. In fact, I was pretty damn proud of my amazing accent when I got to the station. I was asking questions left and right about the cost of the luggage storage, buying packs of metro tickets, and ordering food without stopping to worry if the français had left me. It hasn't!

Tonight I'll sleep in my old bed, and I'm typing this on the "new" Anna's computer that she graciously told Madame I could use while she was gone for vacation. (I probably shouldn't spread this around, but the rumor from Madame and Gentleman Friend is that Anna version 2.0 doesn't speak French very well and isn't even half as nice as me. I admit I needled, but I definitely didn't expect so much flattery. Hee. Madame moved her stuff to a bottom shelf in the fridge, telling me I was the "dame" and had seniority in the apartment.)

Tomorrow, I have a very ambitious plan that involves being all over central Paris for most of the day. Perhaps I will check out the Chloé show, perhaps I will get some espressos and go into a people watching coma near the Hotel de Ville. Nothing is ever certain.

I thought coming back here would make me absolutely dread going back to London, but that's not true. It's becoming what I told Jess at the beginning of the year-- Paris and London are like your kids, and you will love them both for different reasons. At first, I had a really hard time adjusting to life in London, simply because it's so EASY. Everyone speaks my language, the customs aren't terribly different, and the people are usually mild and polite. The opposite of the French. However, deciding what to do tomorrow, Saturday, made me a bit sad that I wouldn't be able to shop at Borough Market until next weekend. Also, being by myself during the day here is completely normal. I am a bit of a loner when it comes to sightseeing and during the day stuff, but I miss my friends that are in London now.

It's also extremely easy to remember the time I had last semester, and wish I could go back and keep living that life. The kids in the program with me are all (except for Jess) back at their respective schools, and I don't even talk to some of them anymore.

One more thing I find hysterical and also strange as hell-- I left so much stuff in "my" room here, and I'm going to try my damndest to get it back to London with me. Pens with purple ink? Check. Huge advertising coffee table book that was a present from work? Check. I might even steal back some CDs I downloaded onto my computer and then decided not to worry about.

Pictures will be forthcoming, starting on Sunday night. I start my internship on Monday though, so we'll see how this all goes down.

Ohh Paris.