This title stems from Suzanne's side-splitting comment tonight: So...let me get this straight...I'm going to Amsterdam with two Jews and staying in a Christian hostel?
Yes, that is correct. How Suzanne, Brittany (the other Jew), and I have come to make plans to stay at a Christian hostel in Amsterdam is more than I have time to write. But I can promise that it will make for some quite funny stories come Monday's blog.
Tonight, I could blog about how my boss took me out for lunch (a baguette sandwich of course) and then for a walk around the Eiffel Tower and the Seine River, and describe how picturesque the scene was in the crisp winter weather (and it was)....but I would rather blog about Snack Time.
If you've been reading my blogs, I'm sure you caught on that us American girls adore Snack Time. Well, we met there tonight, for a quick snack (snack being the operative word here), and we ended up spending almost 3 hours there. Keep in mind this is mainly a take away place with limited seating. However, we hunkered down at the one large table with our pizza, quiche, crepe, and croque monsieur, and did what can only be described as "scarfing." This view for our table neighbors was accompanied by our really loud and inapropriate but innately American conversations. Once a few hours had passed, we decided we were ready for cookies, and since the guys at the counter now know us oh so well (maybe too well since one of the guys asked if he could take me with him along with our plates and napkins....), they agreed to heat the cookies up for us. I seriously contemplated finding a corner to be alone with the gooey sweetness of my soft, melted triple chocolate cookie that was oozing all over my hands and literally dissolving in my mouth. Wait...I'm having a moment... Each week I will await Snack Time with the giddy anticipation of a teenager awaiting her first kiss. Perhaps I should have called this blog "Ode to Snack Time...?"
On another less delicious note...after visiting 2 new metro stations today, I have come to realize that the Paris metro system is more intense than some airports. Two words: Moving Walkways.
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