London Calling

We were originally scheduled to meet up with some of my sister's Yale SOM classmates at some bar but after lugging my giant suitcase up two flights of subway stairs and considering Cathy's general state of exhaustion, we cancelled.


The Hoxton is a chic, modern hotel just north of London's financial district.  Having travelled to London about four times in the last five years, I've seen the major tourist destinations and didn't feel at a loss to take it easy this time around.  Cathy obviously agreed and when we began our trip by canceling the first of our engagements, it was a no-brainer as to what came next: room service.

Midnight in Paris

…is supposed to be magical.  For those of you who’ve watched the film, you’d agree with me that Woody Allen makes it out to be this mysteriously beautiful time and place.  I was 16 the last time I went to Paris, at the height of any average person’s hyper-dramatic stage.  For many of us (and don’t deny it) it’s a back-and-forth dance between desperately hopeful romanticism and bleak fatalism, bossa nova in the sun and Elliott Smith in the dark.  So yeah, being 16 in Paris (Paris in the spring no less) is nothing less than magical.

What was Paris really?  We were tired, it was raining, our joints were aching, my sister’s feet were on fire, and there were throngs of tourists everywhere, just lines and crowds everywhere.  Our schedules were packed starting from 7 AM to beat the lines as best we could and we powered through sites and museums like fruit flies with only 24 hours to live.  Nevertheless, the charm of the city of love did creep in at unexpected moments and then I could really imagine saying, oui, Paris je t'aime.