Sicko...

The last time I was in Paris, nearly 10 years ago, I became suddenly quite ill. There is nothing worse than sickness while traveling, especially in a foreign country where you are not fluent in the language. An internal battle raged- do I ditch out on the month of European travel that we had been planning for months (leaving my college roommate, my travel companion, to go it alone), or do I stick it out, with a face looking like a lopsided harlequin? I chose to weather the storm, mostly because I had already saved, planned, and yearned for this trip and it seemed such a defeat to give up on it in the 2nd week as long as I could still walk. I sat on the steps leading away from Sacre Coeur in Montmartre and cried in the summer rain because I was torn. But I made my decision: I was in Paris, darnit!, and I would enjoy it no matter what.

So, I'm happy to say that I survived, even though to this day I look at pictures from my first time in the city and wonder how I did it looking like I did. Freakish though I felt on the the outside, in a city where every girl is beautiful, slim, charming, and smirking, on the inside, it was exhilarating to know that even mere physical weakness could not stop me from thoroughly enjoying my trip. I look back on the decision to stay and finish the journey, and realize that the travel challenges we face and how we respond to them is one of the major perks of globe-hopping. After all, if everything went smoothly, where would the challenge, and therefore the growth, be? It is during the lost-luggage, nausea-inducing, face-freezing, wire-crossing, sign-misunderstanding, and rude-metro-clerk-meeting experiences that travel evolves from the mundane routines and drudgery of the real world to marking our most memorable adventures. Where is the excitement if you don't have one or two travel struggles per trip? On a positive note, I found that in my Bell's-Palsy-stricken state, I could smirk with the best of the French.

Comparatively, at least regarding health, this last trip was a breeze. Taking photographs and not worrying about which side of my face was showing (was it the frozen-statue side, or the "normal" side?) felt like heaven. So, of course, I snapped so many pictures that it became quite excessive, I'm afraid. Many of them were awful (of course, I am no trained photographer). However, the one above, a view of a Marais courtyard from outside the gate- illustrating the idea of different perspectives- was a happy accident. In my defense, I allowed myself to take as many pictures as possible to work through the joy of seeing everything from healthy eyes, but to also take advantage of another positive development this time around- the advanced technology of the digital camera. In the end, one thing my first experience in Paris taught me, is not to waste time wishing that you had taken a picture, but instead, to follow through and take the time to do it. Who knows when the opportunity will present itself again- and I don't want to miss out on amazing memories just because a few obstacles stand in my way. A lesson I learned since I have experienced Paris both from the sicko perspective and a healthy one.