Je suis une noix de coco, pas une pêche!

So I wrote a very long, very brilliant blog yesterday but pressed the wrong damn button and now you will never have the honor of reading the gems I call my thoughts. You would have laughed, you would have cried, let us just say it would have truly changed your life. But alas...it won't.

So the lesson of the day is, or was since this was the topic of yesterday:
Americans=Peaches
Parisians=Coconuts
In order to understand the cultural differences between us Americans and the frenchies we were given two examples.
One: When children are playing on the jungle gym and they fall down and get hurt American parents pick them up, wipe their tears, tell them they are going to be okay and that they should try again. Parisian parents say one thing, "Tu n'ecoutez jamais!" "You never listen!"
Two: Americans are very outgoing. They have a soft shell, they talk to the people next to them in line for their coffee and get easily hurt (or bruised like a peach) when people are mean to them in any way. Plus we all smile. Americans are loud and seem to have nothing to hide. Parisians are like coconuts. They have a hard shell. They let no one in, they keep their thoughts to themselves. They don't smile. They bump heads, but it does not get under their skin. But once you get to know them they have a sweet and watery center that tastes much better if you add some sugar and toast them until they are a beautiful golden brown. Oh wait no that can't be right. That must be actual coconuts. It's true up until the sweet in the center part. I have decided that I am not a Parisian, but I am a hell of a lot more of a coconut than a peach.
The second part of yesterday was a three hour bus tour of Paris. Needles to say it was gorgeous, but of course I still have no way of getting my pictures up. One day you will all (all being the 3 of you that there are) see the beauty that I see. One day I will have the connecty cord. There is not much to say about it without the pictures, but it felt like I was in Paris more then it has before.
This morning I felt very proud when a man was watching the five girls I was with on the train, sizing them up, or more likely sizing up what might be in their pockets. He didn't even look at me. My coconut attitude was totally paying off. But then one of the girls asked me a question and of course I answered in English. My cover was blown. I saw him gesture to a man right behind me who started "accidentally" poking me in the ribs to feel if I had any good loot. Right before his stop he reached into my pocket to grab whatever he could. Yup. He reached right in and took my stuff. Luckily I have been taught how to act on the train and had everything in my bag with the exception of a business card I was meaning to throw away anyways. So thank you Mr. Pickpocket man. I hope he recycled it.

The rest of the day I learned about the Sorbonne, took a french placement test, lost my feet when they fell off after refusing to walk any further, and cooked myself the poor man's Turkish Lentil Soup. Only three ingredients. I ate it with a baguette. A delicious french baguette.

Now before I get tooo boring I will tell you one last thing. I have done something wonderful. I have signed up for something on March 17th that I believe will be a most fantastic day in Paris. Hopefully I will still be writing this blog by then so you can find out what it is.