Where's Scott?

Another week hanging with the Gordons, drinking gallons of the black stuff, eating fine sushi and sweating through some spectacular Indian, and I finally decide it’s time to jump the channel.

I’m heading East, slowly… so I figure Paris is a nice spot to stop for a few nights. I hop on the Eurostar and arrive in the City of Light in just a few hours – I love rail travel, so much lower stress than air!. The Paris metro is easy to navigate (although not as accessible to a foreigner as the London underground), smells heavily of urine, and is packed with people of all shapes, sizes, and smells! I find a trio of black jazz singers in sequined red dresses performing on the platform, and an old man plays the accordion in my rail car; everything I expected ;). I have no problems locating my hotel, but I’ve arrived late in the evening, without much of a plan, and so end up wandering the streets to get a feel for Paris life. It’s not long before I’m face to face with a landmark (they’re under every rock in this city): “Moulin Rouge” (appearing just as it does in the movie). I drop a quick email to my sister-in-law Kate (as it’s one of her favorite movies) and regret not pocketing my camera; I resolve not to repeat that mistake. You never know when a photo moment may jump out of the dark.