Je suis a Paris

I think I got the grammar right in the title, but probably not. I haven't been able to update as much as I would like to because my laptop got damaged on the way over, so things will be rather sporadic until I get it fixed. Fortunately I don't think anyone reads this, so no one besides me will care.

The first thing I saw in Paris, after getting out of the airport and onto the Metro, was a crazy person singing. It wasn't until halfway through the song that I realized that it was the Spanish national anthem, and that I was the only one not visibly enraged by this. And it turned out she wasn't crazy at all, just homeless. Or at least, begging. I was the only one who gave her any money.

The hostel I'm staying at is called the Woodstock, and was described in my guidebook as "the miniature American embassy" but fortunately it's not seemed to be like that at all. There are a few other Americans here, but there's also Australians, Brits, a Spaniard, a Frenchman, a Chilean, a Ukrainian, a Kazakh, and a dozen other people that I haven't found out where they're from. So far getting sloshed on wine in the evening with them is the highlight of my days.

Paris is incredibly lovely, of course, and there's way too much to do. Today is a relaxing day, resting my feet after having walked several scores of kilometers in the past few days. Once I'm done here I'm going to go lie on the grass in front of Sacre Cour and draw, read, and drink wine.

There's a dozen other things I want to write about, but I've been on my computer for too long and I'm not writing well at the moment so I'll stop now. If I can get everything to work my next update will be in poorly-photographed comic form.