I hate leaving Paris, It makes me feel frazzled, grumpy and a little, triste. IT is always a goat rodeo at the airport to leave Paris which is part of the frazzle, and this trip was no exception. I got a confirmation e mail from Delta indicating that the flight was an Air France flight, and the short of it is, that I ended up in a Air France website which said it could not give me any information. Arriving at the airport I went to Air France, and queued and waited, and got my boarding pass and then queued and waited and on and on, I got shuffled to 4 different gates before I was in the right place and got rid of my bag, then security again, and then Schengen Contorl, and then security and then another check, though no, I did not need to be there, I was already checked, and then another check.. I was waiting on body cavity searches, I had been security checked so much, my boarding pass was nearly in tatters. Then I get on the plane and I am in the last damn row, seriously? IT is bad enough to be leaving Paris, and this?
This morning I got up and ran to the market to find more honey drops for Jodi, I had searched all over Paris to no avail and I was hoping that the honey man would be there and he was!
I am always struck by the beauty of the produce here, the multicolored tomatoes, the steaks of root veggies, and the flirty boys!
Anyway, now I am all tucked into the airplane seat, grateful to be moved up a row and all alone in this row!