OLE!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi friends and haters alike!

On behalf of #TeamMexicanGeordie (me), I'd like to thank you for being here today, on this memorable occasion, in which your eyes shall feast on the beautiful words flowing out of my nonsensical brain AND also feast on my booty-licious body, because--hear, hear!--there's a VIDEO at the end of this post.

Now, don't be a jackass and skip to the video. I know you want to see my face, but listen to what I have to say!!

Honestly, it has been so long since my vacation that I don't remember much. And I didn't take any notes, so...

But let me see what I can conjure up.

Ah, yes, let's start at the beginning, which also happens to be the most interesting part.

Ugh, it's so tacky...

I arrived to Spain in a state of mind that I can only described as the most incongruent, contradicting, and heart-breakingly fragile. I had been wanting to go to Spain for such a long time, so it was a dream come true in that respect, but at the same time the fact that this was a change of plans in my original itinerary would never leave my mind. I was keenly aware of the "should haves" and the "would haves" and it was at times such a sharp pain that it left me breathless. Nevertheless, I had spent hundreds of dollars changing my trip, so I had to make the most of it, and Spain seemed like the perfect destination to distract myself from what was not to be.

Anyway, cryptic as shit, but I'm sure most of you have figured out things have happened in my life in the past few months... and I rather not talk about some of the crippling, debilitating effects of--let's move on.

I HATE to ask strangers for photos... worst part of traveling alone!

MADRID

1. Intensely gorgeous.
Small, clean, and with beautiful architecture. Everywhere you look you see a beautiful building. La Puerta de Alcala. The Royal Palace. The Prado. El Parque del Retiro. I MEAN CAN IT BE ANY MORE BEAUTIFUL? I got to take a night bus-tour of the city and enjoy its cultured buoyancy and powerful majesty. There were several points during the three days when I told myself this was my goal city to live.

2. Feeling of safety.
I was walking alone well after midnight, roaming around like thousands of other people, enjoying a pleasant summer night (the temperature really does drop a ton... but the days are horribly hot and dry). I didn't feel in danger at any moment, and I saw many families out with their children strolling around.

3. FOOD GALORE.
You really can't go wrong. There's food for everyone. I found me a fantastic taqueria one night, and the night after I had Subway. I mean, YOU CANNOT LOSE (weight).

4. No sleep for you.
Between jetlag and anxiety, my sleeping schedule was shattered. I was going to sleep at 4am and waking up at 9... and if I decided to stay in bed, it was a lost day because...

5. HOLY HEAT, BATMAN!
I'm talking well over 40 degrees Celsius (that's well over 100, America!). I was melting like delicious yet sticky chocolate Popsicle under the dry Madrid sun. I had to come to the hotel room every day from 4-6 to just shield myself from the radiations (and I totally did not wear sunblock the first couple days so I was a nice crispy toast color by day three... not to mention with the most bizarre tan lines in the world, including a perfect circle in the middle of my chest caused by a combination of camera straps and the shirt I was wearing that day. I don't know... don't ask me how.

BONUS: WROTE A POEM ABOUT MYSELF:

Caught the ocean in my hair,
Gumption for the ages,
Freckle constellations,
Lava in my veins.
Crystal joints, shifty knees,
Samson-with-hair strong,
Pearly whites, hips don't lie,
Honest to the core.
Story-telling eyes,
Voice made to speak aloud,
Piano hands, football feet,
Nuclear-hot heartbeat.
Unquenchable, unfathomable,
Unending 'spite the storm,
My heart's still afire,
And You. Will. Get. Burned.


AVILA

1. St Teresa everything!!
I mean, isn't that self-explanatory? Museum, church, another museum, convent. Guess what, though? St Teresa's relics... NOT THERE! #KILLME

2. Death by exposure to heat.
This was the hottest day. 45 degrees. Pretty sure I was delusional as I waited outside one of the museums for them to come back from lunch.

yikes... gory!

3. Beautiful Medieval town!
I climbed up to the tower and walked on the city walls, beholding the red roofs and stone houses.

ZARAGOZA

1. Our Lady of the Pillar
Need I say more? Walked through the Door of Mercy, got confession, communion, AND got to kiss the pillar where Our Lady first appeared to St James. First Marian apparition in Church history. Catholic Universe implosion! The priest I confessed with was holy and gentle, and he knew exactly what I felt and what to say in response. It was like having a personal face-to-face with the Man Upstairs Himself! God's mercy at work!!!

2. Food poisoning
Just when I had finally gotten over my jetlag. Three days of torture courtesy of a Tapas Buffet. THAT'S why I always look for Subway.

BARCELONA

1. Crappy hostel.
Broken AC, LOUD PIPES running water at all ours of the night, tiny-ass bed, shared bathroom.
SPEAKING OF SHARING A BATHROOM. So one day my jeans got soaked, and they were fairly new, so they dyed my legs and bum dark blue. Then my body dyed the toilet seat dark blue. Then I panicked and thought of ways to fake my own death but I figured, 'Hey, it's a shared bathroom... no one has to know it was my tainted butt that did this." I regret nothing.

2. MASSIVE PLACE
This city is huge. Unless Donald Trump's hands. ANYWAY, it's big like London so you have to use transportation to get around, or else you end up walking a marathon, like I did. Why do I always do this to myself? Sigh...

At least I got to see a lot of the city, even the uninteresting parts!

3. SANGRIA!
Met some whinny Americans (from California and Florida.. DUH) and they bought me some sangria, which honestly I had never tried before. The stuff is delicious and quite cheap. I drank it like Kool Aid. I stuck with the Americans for a few hours and then we parted ways amicably.

4. ALTITUDE
Having the privilege to see the city from above was just priceless. I went up to mount Tibidabo and made myself nauseated with the height. I also went to Montjuic, where I paid 8 euros for a Cable Car trip down (instead of having done it going UP, so I didn't half-die on the climb... well, you live, you learn).

This is Tibidabo

5. I LOVE BEACHES!
As a beach-lover, I had to make my way to La Barceloneta, the main beach of Barcelona. On the last night of my stay in Spain, I walked to the beach and decided to take a dip... fully clothed! Besides almost drowning and looking ridiculous, I'd say it went pretty well.

There's a moment I do want to share...

After getting into the Mediterranean fully clothed, I came out and sat on the sand to try to dry. As the night began to fall, I started shivering because the temperature after sunset was quite cool and I was drenched. I knew there was a way to stop shaking so violently: I could just take off my shirt. But I kept thinking "HOW? I CAN'T DO THAT... I'm not like... well.. I don't look like someone who should take off their shirt in public..." So I sat there, trembling, cursing because I had not just brought a bathing suit and a towel.

But then, I started to think. Well, first, I started remembering what the last few months had been. Then I started thinking about who I was, and the poem I had written a couple days before. And I asked myself... "who? Who says you can't take off your t-shirt? You're at the beach. That's what people do at the beach." Of course, one is prone to think that flabby bellies with stretch marks are not what beach-goers want to see. But then, for just a moment, I thought...

"Who the hell cares?"

Who cares if I sit at this beach in my jeans and sports bra? Who cares if I have three levels of rolls of fat? Who is going to come tell me to cover up? Or laugh at me? Or scoff at my grossness? No one.

Not a single person. Because they won't dare. Because I am going to sit here, and breathe the salty breeze, and look straight ahead at the Mediterranean, and smile, and push my shoulders out, and keep my chin up, and none of these people will dare to break me because they can't. Because the only one telling me to cover up and to hide my embarrassment of a body is me. It's that high-pitched voice of the insecurities passed on to you generation from generation, the immature comments of your high school friends, the rude remarks of annoying older women who don't know any better. But I have the power to drown that voice. I have the power to punch that voice in the face, so to speak. And hear my own, my very own voice tell me, "Who the hell cares? You are who you are and you're cold and you need to take this shirt off and don't give a fudge about the teens over there. No, they are not laughing at you. They're smoking pot, they're laughing at everything. No, that lady didn't look at you, don't mind her. Sit here. Feel the breeze. Breathe. Enjoy not shivering to death."

I sat there, God knows for how long, and watched the waves come and go. And I felt like I was almost gazing at myself from outside my body. And I told myself that, even if he'd gone, even if he'd taken my poetry, my secrets, my dreams, and my favorite songs, he hadn't managed to take me completely. I told myself that I still had me, broken and raw, but alive and breathing. I told myself that if everyone else failed, I'd still love me. Always and forever. I'll love me even after everyone else is gone.


Thank you, España. You were exactly what I needed.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnfOT34X5bc&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnfOT34X5bc&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnfOT34X5bc&feature=youtu.be

THE UNITED KINGDOM: RELOADED! A history of my travels told with Miranda GIFs

OI! WELCOME BACK! Apologies, it's been a solid two months without a blog entry. I would love to tell you that it was because I was extremely busy planning my wedding, but the truth is I was lazy and--let's face it, only five people still read this thing (thanks guys!).

Where did we leave off? Ah yes, it was my birthday and I was being a complete downer, eh? But just in case you were wondering, I was able to recharge my joy batteries during 25 fantastic days in my favorite side of the world! That's right, I WENT HOME, BABYYYYY!!!!

But let's start at the beginning, shall we? I think the trip was eventful enough to actually write more than one blog entry, but let's see how much I can milk this cow.


1. Canada, eh?

the afternoon of Sunday, June 7th, 2015, I got on an AirCanada flight to Toronto. You may call me cheap, but I choose to call it economical. It was a very tight flight with no TV screens, so I was left to my thoughts and delirious excitement about going back to the UK and seeing all my favorite-est people in the universe.

Toronto airport was lovely and I am now a Tim Horton's Coffee convert. Who can even think about Starbucks now? Tim Horton's is every Catholic man's fantasy: the hotter, humbler, more modest sister of Starbucks. Starbucks definitely has a superiority complex.

Turns out, however, not everything Canadians make is beautifully perfect. AirCanada is crap, ya'll. Their planes are crammed and they make you download an app on your device to be able to watch anything instead of having screens like other normal airplanes. Of course, I missed the part where they instructed us which app to download, so I literally was stuck on an intercontinental flight with no movies-- torture, basically, since I just cannot sleep in planes for more than 30 minutes at a time.

2. Dublin meh-ness

With red eyes and bags under my eyes, I arrived in Dublin and was received by Autumnal weather. After an encounter with a very nasty bus driver (who I dared to call a jerk to his face) and much idle walking with my two HUGE suitcases (don't judge me, you know I can't help it), I finally managed to find my hostel. They made me wait for an hour and a half to let me into the room, but I was so exhausted and sweaty (TMI) that I just decided to stay there waiting for my room instead of trying to get adventurous and finding food.

After a nice shower and some Subway, I dared to venture out into the streets of Dublin, only to quickly change my mind. Don't get me wrong, it's not that Dublin is not a charming little city. But I was SO. TIRED. And jet-lagged. So, I am ashamed to say, I did the awfully touristy thing and bought me a ticket to one of those hop-on-and-off tour buses that takes you around the city.

I am sorry, but those things are WONDERFUL. You cover a lot of ground, you can get off whenever you want to and go do your thing and then just get back on later, you have a vantage view point for the majority of the trip,  and you've got a person explaining to you all the ins and outs of the city. TOUR BUSES, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE??

I saw the Guinness factory, the Old Jameson Distillery, and Trinity College, and a bunch of other nice buildings I honestly don't remember. Then, I went and had a huge three course dinner, eventually making my way back to the hostel for the night. Feeling tired really blurs your perspective. I really thought I did not like being in cold, rainy Ireland. Luckily, that changed the next day, when I arrived to.... *drumroll*

3. SUNNY GALWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

You guys, the place is a dream. Big enough to be called a city but small enough to stroll around in a day. Quaint and clean yet packed with booze and yummy food! Did I mention live music in every other pub? Even the sun likes Galway better than Dublin.

Now, my hotel was quite out of the way, about four miles away from the city centre (which means it was in a totally different town). But I stayed in the world's best B&B, so Anne, my lovely hostess, actually gave me a lift into town. And made me tea. And gave me brochures. And booked a cab for me. JUST ALL THE THINGS!

Music, fish and chips, drinks, the works. Oh, you know what else? MEN.

I guess this is when I tell you about the Claddagh ring.

Months ago, the Claddagh ring was brought to my attention by my friend Iris. Little did I know that it was a symbol originated in Galway. So when I saw a jewelry shop with a big painting of the ring on the wall, I couldn't resist. I went in and entered the realm of the Claddagh magic.

According to what I understood, the Claddagh ring symbolizes loyalty, friendship, and love. It is customary for women who are married/taken to wear the ring with the heart pointing inwards, while ladies who are looking for luuuuuurve wear it pointing outwards, to draw in "the one".

I honestly bought the ring because I think it's really pretty; little did I know of its power. After buying the ring, I went into a restaurant to eat, and as I came out of it, sighing with satisfaction and smelly fish breath, a man approached me.

"So, good fish and chips?"
"Yeah, fantastic!"
"What's your name?"

Just like that. We chatted casually as we walked up the street, and after a few minutes he asked if he could buy me a drink. Yep. Just like that. I politely declined, since I'm pretty sure he was my dad's age (although I gotta admit he was not bad-looking... we just reached a whole new level of 'eww', huh?).

Oh my gosh, this ring works!
Don't be silly, that's just a funny coincidence. 

Except it wasn't. The next day, I met a couple guys at a tour of the Cliffs of Moher. I spent the whole day hanging out with them. One of them kept winking at me. From then, it was just a series of cat-callers, kiss-blowers, starers, smilers, plain ole' creeps. What. the actual. f****?

Look, I'm not saying the ring has magic. All I'm saying is that I am suddenly super irresistible and very confident. Especially to Irish men. Clearly, I've been wasting my time with a bunch of non-Irish men my entire life. Now it's only a matter of finding a somewhat sober Irishman with acceptable teeth.

But it didn't stop there. It went on. In Durham. At the Lake District. In Scotland. In FREAKING LAFAYETTE, LOUISIANA. Everywhere (except in Texas, apparently). I'm quickly collecting binders of men around here.

4. THE CLIFFS OF MOHER

Also known as The Most Beautiful Place on Earth. Seriously, there are no words to describe the Cliffs. Dumbfounded. Awe-struck. Fangirling. There really isn't much to say. Just look at this place:

5. Day of Madness: Galway -- Dublin -- Manchester

Took a train from Galway to Dublin.
Took a bus from Dublin's train station to Dublin Airport.
Took a flight from Dublin to Manchester. I almost lose my life because I looked at a wrong screen and I thought the flight was leaving so I ran and ran and suddenly discovered that running with luggage practically makes me asthmatic. Turns out I had plenty of time. Fool.
Took the metro from Manchester Airport to the city centre.
Took a million years to find my hotel. I hadn't had food all day. But they have burgers. Delicious burgers.

Then, I waited and waited for someone I was supposed to meet up with. Waited and waited. AND WAITED. After hours of waiting (I waited, ya'll), I decided to dust myself off and take my pretty dress out for a walk, for a night in town. By a night in town I mean I went to the nearest Tesco to buy comfort food to bring back to the hotel so that I could watch the Women's World Cup. I bleeping hate this stupid city forever. #notbitter

Oh, here's a "Things that Only Happen To Me" moment:
Turns out, my hotel had been going through some "renovations", and it seems that they might have forgotten to actually finish some of the walls...

This meant that the walls of my room did not go all the way up to my ceiling, the same ceiling I was sharing with several other tenants. It was a matter of hours before I realized there was a beast sleeping next to me... because I could hear every single thing that was happening in the room next to mine. And it was not pretty. Burping. Growling. Hardcore snoring. GROWLINGOMGWTFISGOINGON!!!! The guy was GRUMPY, slamming drawers, windows, the door. I was actually scared for my life. Then on the other side there was someone else, also snoring. Oh, did I mention there was a drunken homeless man shouting "OI MATE!" outside my window for what felt like hours? Yeah, I had almost no sleep that night.

But it's totally fine, ya'll, because the next day I was Durham-bound. And that, my friends, is enough for me.

***TO BE CONTINUED***

Christmas thoughts

Happy Christmas, all! I hope you have a lovely, blessed, joyful holiday. 

As I prepare for the craziness and excitement that is our Christmas at home, I feel the need to put down in writing those things that a part of my heart is feeling.

I love Christmas. It is my favorite time of the year and I thoroughly enjoy the way we celebrated at home. But I can't help but notice that I woke up this morning with a tinge of nostalgia for what was my home for a year (and all the people that were there with me). I feel homesick for Durham; there's a hole in my soul caused by longing--the longing to see those faces that managed to sneak inside my heart in a span of a few months.

I miss my Durham home and my Durham family. I miss the cold air and the cloudy skies and the laughter and the warmth of tea and radiators and cozy jumpers. I miss all of you my Durham loves. So, so much. It's a bittersweet moment, too, because I've never spent a Christmas away from my immediate family, and I'm grateful to be here. But I just can't help it-- I think I'm destined to have a torn heart. But that's the price I must pay for having lived an amazing year and for being loved.

So, know that you are in my heart. I love you and I miss you. Happy Christmas.

The Vlogging life

Check out that one time some weird guy called me from "The District of Columbia"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcrDJgsId4E&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcrDJgsId4E&feature=youtu.be

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcrDJgsId4E&feature=youtu.be

Vlogging!!

I'm trying this whole video blogging thing-- so.... yep:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LhH4KTLZBJc#t=17

THE PREMIER OF THE NEW VIDEO!!!

As expected, there wouldn't be a Eurotrip without a video documenting my adventures, so here you have it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oY-gRcsFds

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oY-gRcsFds

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oY-gRcsFds


(It's all the same video... but some people have a hard time seeing a link in here, or so I hear)

Granted, not as many clips as I would have liked, but it's hard being my own cameraman without feeling pretentious and narcissistic. Enjoy!

French Kiss (NOT): Forever alone-ing in the city of Love (Real Life Eponine Chronicles)

BONJOUR! 

Oui, c'est moi, le Geordie mexicaine... en utilisant Google translate! #lifeskillz

It was only after being in France that I realized how lame I have been my entire life for refusing to learn "that stupid language"-- in my defense, I didn't think I would ever, ever need it! Who would have thought that I would ever roam the streets of Paris with only a few bucks in my pockets and guard my bag from the gypsies and pickpockets?! Dreams come true, after all.

Shall I tell you all about it?

1. I arrived in Paris north station after a couple hours in a Belgian train. Sure, I had been to Brussels and other cities, but nothing had prepared me for Paris: people, people, and more people!

I went to the Tourist Info kiosk and asked for a free map of the city. The nice tourist helper was not happy about this. He was not nice.

those skinny bastards...

What did I do, you ask? I ran to the nearest McDonald's. Ah, yes, the solace of an American institution. This is American territory, this is like the embassy, right? Well, I hate McDee's food, so I just sat there, using their internet. I saw all kinds of people, including a cool bro with a surfing board. But then the employees started eyeing me suspiciously, so I actually had to buy food. Meh. It's better in France than in the States, ya'll, but it ain't Burger Boy.

2. After a while, I took my heavy things and embarked in my first day adventure. Yes, because of my....shall we say, accommodation arrangements, I had to carry my stuff around with me all day until 7pm that day, when I was to meet my friend Clement. This meant I looked like a backpacker, or a gypsy, or a homeless person, however you want to look at it. Moreover, Paris was HOT... and we all know what happens to me when it's hot...

Streams and streams, endless.... gosh, it was awful. But hey, you know what? I walked around for 6 hours, 15 miles that day, and with my map I saw a good chunk of the city.

the Bastille

 I took a lot more photos but I'm just giving you the best of the best. I wandered around until I could no longer find any landmarks, which was indication enough that I was nearing the outskirts of central Paris. After almost being ran over by a bunch of cars when one of my bags broke and fell as I was crossing the street, I decided it was best to use the metro to go up to the north side of the city. The nice (not) metro man with broken English helped me figure out how to purchase a metro ticket (and by that I mean I spent 10 minutes looking at the self-service machine until I figured out on my own).

Anyway, I culminated my walk that day with the most beautiful sight in Paris:

It absolutely takes your breath away. It is the most magnificent thing, and its standing at the top of a very high hill just gives it an even bigger wow factor. Did I almost faint going up those stairs? Sure! I clutched my crucifix with whatever strength was left in me and I made my way up those steps. And I got in just in time for mass here, at Sacre Coeur, where they have perpetual exposition of the blessed sacrament.

After that I waited for Clement outside the church... and was harassed by several ambulant vendors and disgusted by the fact that beer is sold right on the steps leading up to the basilica. UNBELIEVABLE.

Anyway, we went to Clem's hipster apartment and he made me dinner and it was like a little piece of heaven. Then I basically fell in a comma of exhaustion.

3. AH, IT'S A NEW DAY--and I was feeling like I was ran over by an 18-wheeler. I set off much later than I would have liked, but honestly I was lucky enough to be able to move after the killer previous day.

THIS WAS THE DAY OF THE LOUVRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You guys, it's so massive. It's like the Mall of America of museums. DANG. I'd like to tell you that I saw the whole thing, but I can't lie to you--my time limit in a museum is 3 hours. After that, I stop being able to tell between a Botticelli and a Picasso.

that's the best photo one can aspire to when asking people who don't give a crap about one's photos to snap one.

It was amazeballs, even though I was already tired because I had been walking for 3 or 4 hours before I got there. And I know you are all wondering one thing---did I see it? Here:

4. What the ACTUAL f*ck? Mona Lisa has got to be the most overrated thing in the world. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHAT IS THAT? I WANT MY MONEY BACKKKKKKKKK!!! CRAP, CRAP, CRAPPEDY CRAP!

Yes, there will be a rant.

First, don't get me started about the size.

another brilliantly taken photo by a douchebag American who thought his "I'm going to beat that bald guy" joke was funny.... DOUCHE.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL WORLD? Why is a tiny ass painting like that so popular? There are paintings in the Louvre that are as high as a two-level house. What's so special about this tiny portrait? I guess size wouldn't really matter if IT WAS ACTUALLY GOOD. Are you kidding me? 

AAAAAAAAAAAHAERKLJAGJKLAERGNERKLAERARGAGAERGAE. I look at that woman and I want to gently slap her out of her idiotic facial expression. Leonardo painted a handful of things better than this. Why, WHY, WHYYYYY? I don't get humanity's fascination. Any photoshopped version of La Gioconda is better than the original. Don't believe me?

English Mona Lisa

Mooooooooooona Lisa

Mona Fierce

La Legonda

Duck-face Mon' Liz

Biker Lisa

La Jackonda

But yes, I saw it. It totally sucks. Everything else was great, though!

After that, I walked through the gardens and then through Champs Elysee, taking in all the Parisian gorgeousness and feeling mind-blown at the fact that I was in Paris. Did I mention I saw the French president? Yeah, that happened. He was having a ceremony with some soldiers and other important looking people here:

I finished the evening with dinner with friends. I ate crepes, my new food spouse. Crepes for starters, crepes for entrees, crepes for dessert. A LIFE OF CREPES. I could do it, you know... I could eat crepes for the rest of my life. They are beautifully thin and stuffed with goodness. 

I could cry of happiness just looking at these pictures. Bacon, whipped cream, ice cream--oh, the loves of my life! 

After dinner, we wandered around Sacre Coeur again and looked at the Eiffel Tower from far away as it lighted up at midnight. 

look at this beauty

A good second day, and I equally died that night for 8 hours out of pure tiredness. 

5. OH GLORIOUS THIRD DAY!

I saved the best for last-- Eiffel, Notre Dame, and everything in between!

Sacre Coeur from the Tower

The Louvre from the Tower

Seine bank

It was here that a gypsy tried to take money from me by pretending to be fund-raising for a nameless non-profit organization that helps children in Africa. I think she might have put a curse on me, because she kissed her hand and rubbed it on my shoulder when I told her I was Mexican--don't look at me like that... I had to...

Gypsy sister of charity: do you speak English?
Me: No. Español.
UN Gypsy: OOOH, YO HABLO ESPAÑOL.
Me [inwardly]: dammit.
St. Gypsy of the African Children [in Spanish]: we are collecting signatures to help the children of Africa, would you sign?

SHE SAID SIGN, NOT DONATE? HOW WAS I SUPPOSE TO KNOW?

Me: Sure!
Esmeralda: eres de Mexico?
Me: Si...

[Does the whole creepy kiss thing, calls me beautiful... I thought it was a sign for some kind of sexual slavery ring to snatch me]

Then our selfless lady proceeds to ask for funds... to which I said "I got no money..."

Without saying a word, she walked away....

ANYWAY, PHOTOS:

Palace of Luxembourg 

Notre Dame

I finished this day with mass at Notre Dame. Wow, wow, wow. One of the most memorable days in my life. Oh, Paris, you are a magical, you are a dream.

Three days, 45 miles, dozens of sights seen. A map falling a part to prove it:

That night, I went to eat at a legit American dinner and then headed to the station for my overnight train to Lourdes! More to come!

C