Image by slashcoconut via Flickr
Last month, I decided to turn the tables on my Letter From Paris column, and I invited readers to send me original (not published elsewhere) material as Letters To Paris.
And this is from Shannon...
MY HUSBAND AND I just got back from our vacation to Italy. We went to Sardaigne expecting the tropical beaches and a luxury hotel with all the perks. Two words: "all inclusive." After weeks of working like a dog under the gray skies of Paname, our ship had come in. Hello sun!
The experience was not what we planned. The hotel was a scam and the beach smelled like, well, a giant fart. Algae, don't ask.Vactioners have a tendency to idealize the coveted sanctuary from reality. We dream of the white beaches and picture how happy we will be "when." Little did we know that our wait was not going to be worth it.
But, there was a bright side: we couldn't wait to get back home.
When we returned to Paris, I sat on our front balcony and listened as a bus drove by. Then a garbage truck clunked around outside and scooters buzzed down the street. The racket was pretty loud, but that "noise" was like music to my ears.I went down the street and bought a croissant at the bakery that had just opened after a month-long hiatus. The woman behind the counter must have gotten as much sleep as I did, because she plunked the still-warm pastries on the counter without so much as a smile, but a predictable amount of disdain. Parisians, don't ask. The first mouthful was like biting into happiness.
It's funny how going away can sometimes make you appreciate coming home. You don't imagine how good you have it until you go some place that's out of your element. The remote is not where you keep it. The beds are not as soft. The air smells flatulicious.
Image by Vietnam_Pictures via Flickr
Last night we sat out the balcony and watched the Eiffel Tower's light pass through the clouds. I listened to the sounds of the city streets, knowing that I wouldn't trade that siren, honk or bus for the world. Take your sandy, smelly beaches and shove'em. I live in the city of lights, and I'll always come back to it.
-Shannon, Je ne sais quoi
