There are a lot of things that go through your mind prior to taking a big trip overseas, especially when you go sans kids. Just a few may include:

1. Wow! It’s so easy to walk in the airport! No junk, no meltdowns, no peeing every three minutes!
2. Why do they make you take off your shoes at security?
3. Will my plane arrive safely?
4. Will my kids miss me?
5. Will I miss my kids?
6. Will my in-laws ever agree to this again?
7. What exactly is cross check?
8. Wow! It’s amazing how much bigger the lavatory is without two extra people in it with you.
9. My snacks. My earphones. My armrest. Aaaahhhh……
10. Would it have been too much trouble for the guy sitting next to me to have taken a shower prior to boarding?

Of course, once you land, there is only one thing that goes through your mind as the above questions are no longer relevant:

What food is this place known for and how quickly can I get some?

Yes, to me travel is all about food. Sure, I love sights and history, but put me in front of a plate of the best {insert indigenous food here} and I’m pretty much good to go. You go on your hike and I’ll just sit here eating and watching people and you can come get me when you’re done.

New Yorkers claim their bagels are superior (they are), Texans rave about their barbecue (okay), Georgia…well, never mind, but I feel confident in saying that the French can pretty much take a doorknob and saute it and it will taste absolutely unreal.

My god they know how to cook. They don’t know how to drive or how to install traffic lights or how to assist you with lost luggage or how to make manly men’s clothes in sizes larger than an extra small, but they know food. Six of us ate our way silly throughout the cities and countryside of this beautiful country. From pastries to pasta, cheese to seafood, wine to gelato, it was pure gastronomic gluttony and I am ever so grateful to have had the opportunity to travel with such a wonderful group of friends.

*Snob alert* After eating the bread alone, I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to step foot into a Panera again. There’s just no comparison. So instead, I’ll try to remember some of these “Frenchisms” I picked up while I was away to help me feel gastronomically superior better about the food I consume and feed my family. Feel free to try a few for yourself!

1. If you put a sandwich into a white paper bag and eat it on the street it will undoubtedly taste better.
2. If you take McDonald’s french fries and serve them in a paper cone you won’t feel guilty about eating them because all of a sudden they are pomme frites.
3. Fish with the head on it costs 8x as much as a filet. Not sure why but if and when I open a fish restaurant, I’ll be sure to remember this when writing up the menu.

4. Anything with Nutella tastes amazing. A crepe. A croissant. Your sock.
5. Street meat in France is better than any five-star Michelin rated restaurant in the U.S.
6. If you wear high heels you can eat anything you want and still look sophisticated. Chicken Wings. Barbecue Ribs. Your sock (with Nutella).
7. Denny’s should consider replacing its Grilled Cheese with this:

8. Our accents suck.
9. Bread looks better coming out of a bicycle than it does out of a plastic shopping bag.
10. Wine can and should be consumed with every single meal of the day.

I’d love to end it here but in memory of the great Peter Falk (who died this week), there’s just one more thing…

Le Chaos
Of course no experience in my family is complete without chaos. So I will quickly keep to this site’s theme by stating mine: After waking at 4 am and driving two hours and taking a four-hour train ride to get to the airport on the last day, we got off at the wrong stop only to be directed onto another train which was leaving in .0003 seconds that we barely made it aboard before the doors closed on our bags. Only problem was, it was the wrong train that took us 40 minutes in another direction. We now had only one hour and thirty minutes to make our plane (so much for Duty Free shopping). Exactly one hour and I don’t even want to say how much we spent on a taxi later, we finally arrived at the airport only to be told that the boarding had already closed and we couldn’t get onto another flight until the next night. Waterworks ensued (a special thanks to my Acting 101 instructor) and after convincing the very unsympathetic agent that we had to get home, someone let us through. We pissed off hundreds of people by cutting in the hour-long security line and didn’t even have time to put back on our belts and shoes after going through the X-Ray machine. We ran to the gate half-naked 007 style and somehow made it onto the plane as they were literally closing the doors.

I think I lost at least three chocolate croissants worth of weight in that experience alone. Guess the Pigpen phenomenon also follows me ‘cross the pond.

Seventeen hours later and I am happy to be home. And after a nice big hug, it’s as if we never left.

Tags: France, French Food, Grilled Cheese