stupid jet lag

Okay, I've been awake since ~4am. I gave up and got up at 5 figuring I can use the extra time to catch up on the Parisian blogging. I'll start at the beginning.

The plane ride: Good Lord, I hate to fly. It's not like I'm afraid of it or anything, it's just so boring. I consider it a necessary evil. Ten hours of uncomfortable recycled air in order to enjoy one's self in a beautiful foreign land. It would be better if I didn't suffer from the affliction of "Unabletosleeponaplaneopathy." My mother got her ticket waaaaaay earlier than mine, so she was lucky enough to use miles to upgrade to business class. I was in steerage in a seat that didn't recline. Oh, and I was right next to the lavatory--occasionally stinky. And my headphones broke rendering my iPod useless. Arrgh! At least I had a super sweet girl sitting next to me. After hours of chatting (she can't sleep on planes either) about her singing and songwriting career, I found out she is one of the daughters of Hank Williams, Jr. True! My brush with fame in an uncomfortable airplane seat.

Then we land. Remember, we left DFW at 5:15pm and arrived at CDG at 9:30am. Where did the night go? We flew through it. This is the worst possible of days--trying to stay awake. Mother and I got our ride to the hotel, freshened up a bit, and head out for lunch. We walked and walked and walked and...well, you get it...until we found the place she had picked out for lunch. It was a place she's been to before and is known for its souffles. She had a fan-freaking-tastic Gorgonzola souffle whereas (in my sleep deprived state) I thought it would be wise to try something different. I ordered the haddock and spinach souffle. It could've been good, but it wasn't. Way too much fish. I decided it would've been better if they'd added a good hard cheese like parmesan or asiago, but they didn't. I couldn't even finish it because it nauseated me. That's when we decided that I was in no state to purchase anything--who knows what I would've bought in that state of mind! We spent a lot of the rest of the afternoon just wandering around the 7th arrondisement trying to stay awake. When we found ourselves back at the hotel, we look a nap and then got up for dinner.

Ah, dinner on the first night. It was so unbelievably magnificent I wanted to marry all 3 courses I ate and have their children. The restaurant is called Le Florimond ("19 Ave de la Matte-Picquet, 75007, Paris Traditional Cuisine, served with passion"). Here's what I had: (A) lobster ravioli in some sorta fantastic sauce, (MC) a leg of lamb stew with fresh basil, carrots, potatoes, and golden raisins, and (D) chocolate profiteroles filled with dark chocolate cream and surrounded with a passion fruit sauce and sorbet. *angels singing heavenly tunes*

Now I'm hungry. My Yunnan tea that I bought at the Mariage Freres tea shop just isn't cutting the hunger. It is, however, making my scorchingly raw and painful throat feel much better. Damn recycled airplane air. I knew I should've gotten that Airborn stuff. At least I have to see Dr. B today for something completely different. I'll make him fix me. ;-)