Paris! or Scottish Deja Vu

I spent the weekend in Paris experiencing some strange deja vu, which seems to be a running theme in my blogs these days. I have never really had a strong desire to visit France, ironically I had originally planned to go to Scotland during this study abroad, but alas, the best laid plans...Yet somehow, Scotland found me... We arrived Friday and as a class we did the touristy things one would expect, the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, a wine tasting lunch cruise up and down the Seine. All lovely, yes, but my real time in Paris began after class on Friday night. We chose a dinner cafe at random and lo and behold, they were flying the Scottish flag. When I asked the bartender about the flag, he simply said, it was actually from his friends bar called "The Highlander." Anyone who knows me, knows that was the BEST reply I have ever received. I was given sketchy, très French, directions on the back of some napkin and tucked that little gem away for the next night! 



On Saturday, I spent four hours walking at a snails pace around Père Lachaise cemetery with my mates Eric and Tara. After a nice stroll though history, and some Spanish deja vu (that would take too long to explain here) we made our way via the Tube to an old cathedral in a little spot where it seemed not to belong. 

Things happening in threes...

After a browse around their WWI memorial, we left and made our way to another cathedral (as planned) and there, lo again, was a real Scotsman in full regalia. Eric, always a quick thinker on his feet, pretended to pose for a picture as I secretly snapped the Scotsman. We continued on our journey to the cathedral at the top of a very steep hill, in yet a second pilgrimage - of which I, only 3/4 the way up and having only two legs, gave up on and sat on the steps. While waiting patiently for my mates to meet the summit and descend with their report on how great the things I just missed was, I started to collect my thoughts in my little black travel journal, fuel for these blogs. The rest of the day was very, very strange...We rushed back to the hotel to change clothes and went to the early 5:30 mass at Notre Dame. The service, in French as one would expect, was lovely and complimented by the magnificent architecture and ethereal voices of the choir. The trip back to the hotel was very solemn, reflecting on the neat deja vu's in in the cathedrals, the perfect-for-walking-weather... For dinner, we decided on the exquisite seafood restaurant where we shared miles of mussels and oysters and other wonderful raw, fresh fish. 

By midnight, most of the crew on board was dogged tired, and only a few mates, Kaitlin and Alesha were up for the journey to The Highlander. As we waked down the jaunty streets in the heart of Paris, so many of them reminded me of New Orleans. (I will not go off tangent and talk about the Gulf Oil Spill, but it is always in the back of my mind.) After a few wrong turns, we finally arrived. At the pub, the plan was to take some photos and stay a bit and then retire. That was, of course, until I met my two newest mates. A lovely couple whom I quickly learned we had a ton of commonalities, this is all part of what I call the deja vu. Dan (also my husband's name) is from north England and Lisa is from Scotland. Holy cow, I meet and hit-it-off with a real Scot, in a Scots themed bar, in the heart of Paris!

We had the same sense of humor, same age, loved the same films, read the same books, had the same life experiences and even hated the same football (soccer) teams! I was in my element, millions of miles from home (pardon the hyperbole.) We spent the night laughing and sharing stories, quizzing each other on Dune trivia (Dan's favorite trilogy) like we were old pals from long ago. Just carrying on like old friends do (like catching on to something fishy, e.g. Dan was giving this long rant in French and I knew I had heard that before and I called him out on it, and he looked astonished that I had memorized so many of Eddie Izzard's comedy bits in French! HA! ) So, after we bid goodnight and exchanged email addresses, I realized that Paris had not only nursed my Scotland travel ills, but also nourished some little pieces of my soul and gave me the gift that keeps on giving, friendship!