L'agonie

The time has come for me to announce the demise of my faithful digital camera. These images are the last you'll see coming from the little ol' Kodak EasyShare. You'll be missed, little buddy.
Things are heating up in Paris, in more ways than one. I'm currently spending my last day as a 20-year-old holed up in my bedroom at 24, rue de Rocroy, trying to put together a dossier on John Ford's Vers sa destinée (Young Mr. Lincoln), so that I don't have to spend my first day as a 21-year-old doing so.
Paris has really been jerking me around, lately, weatherwise. We've had a couple of really gorgeous 60-something degree sunny days, where it feels like the whole city tumbles out into the Luxembourg Gardens to soak up the sun and feed the ducks, or stroll along the quais, perusing the wares of the bouquinists, or play a friendly game of boules in the neighborhood park. But then there's days like today, where it's cold and rainy and dark and there are too many other Americans on the metro for me to reveal that my metro book is in English -- heaven forbid I be associated with all these 16-year-old yahoos screaming at each other and slightly older women talking about way-too-personal-for-public-transport things ("So then she found this RASH..."), just because they assume no one else can understand. Joke's on them, I suppose.
Then there's been other craziness, both in and out of Paris. I've been out of town the last couple of weekends - the first in Provence with Sweet Briar, where I dangled my toes and skipped stones in a bright blue river under a 2000-year-old Roman aqueduct, spent the night in a monastary nestled in the brushy hills overlooking the Rhone valley, and followed the world's most thorough tour guide through Important Sites like the Palais des Papes in Avignon and the Roman ruins in Arles. I would have liked a little less talking about Romans and a little more visiting local agricultural producers (the vines were calling to me!), but it was a lovely weekend just the same.
Then Emily Freeman (of the Brattleboro Freemans) appeared on her spring break, and stuck around for a few days before the two of us whisked away for a weekend in Switzerland chez Frutzli, where we visited baby cows and a watch museum, ate a lot of good food, went grocery shopping at least three times, wandered the streets of Geneva and rolled along the country roads around Aclens, read light vacation literature, and spent some good quality time at the Crazy Pub, along with everyone Johann has ever known, where I discovered a certain hidden talent for darts. Kind of.
And now I'm back in Paris for another week, featuring a guest appearance from Emma Chubb (of the Pittsburgh Chubbs), before heading off to Berlin and Krakow for a week, then coming back to show some relations around the City of Lights. I just can't wait for spring to actually get here for good. Here is a picture of my friends standing illicitly atop a Roman amphitheater (now used for bullfights) in Arles: