Pre-Christmas in Paris

Have you ever walked into a room and instantly felt underdressed? As in that sinking feeling that oh god, everyone else here is dressed several zeroes more expensively than me and that person just gave me the once-over and I'm definitely coming up short and I'm going to be stuck in this place for a while with no means of escape and oh god, so. awkward. ...? Imagine, if you will, rolling out of your first bed in 48 hours (not counting bumpy overnight buses and benches in museums), pulling on the clothes that you've already been traveling in for several days, doing --something-- to your hair without a mirror in sight, and then heading out to door to see what you can of Paris at Christmastime.

You wander over to the center part of town, gawk at the Opera house and smile at the throngs of children crowded around the moving window displays. You stop to pet a homeless guy's dog, and maybe even buy a dozen chestnuts or so. You feel rather at peace with the world and suffused with the Christmas spirit (whatever that means), and wander into the large and sparkly department store to see what all the touristy fuss is about. You wait in line to have your bag inspected, next to the impatient children and the women already digging out their Christmas gift lists. You head to the elevator to check out the view from the top floor, which you've heard is pretty spectacular on a clear day. The elevator opens ... and you realize that every impeccably coifed and styled person in it has turned to stare at your distinctly plain clothes.

You suddenly feel very, very much like an impoverished country mouse.

At least the view from the top was pretty damn fantastic.

(I'm dropping off the internet for ten days or so, to spend the holidays with family on a ranch somewhere in Brittany. Expect updates to resume after the 2nd, and in the meantime - happy whatever-holiday-you-celebrate, and have a wonderful, safe, and warm 2009!)