Paris: Day 2

I don't know what time zone I'm on but it's not Boston and it's not Paris. I think I'm on Tokyo time. I slept three hours last night, got up at 6 a.m. worked from 7 until 2, then fell asleep. The room is so quiet, I didn't wake up until 6.

I strolled around and took some night photos and grabbed a bite to eat. I was stopped in the street two times and asked directions in broken French. Perhaps I'm not as obviously American as I thought. I replied back in broken French that I had no clue as to where Rue _____ is.

I may have avoided being instantly labeled American by two people - most others did peg me for English speaking - but I can spot the Americans here from a mile away. Shoes tell all. As does sitting spread eagle in the courtyard of the Louvre with your buttcrack peeking out of your jeans and the darker streaks of the tanning lamps marking your back from laying in the tanning bed too long as you rummage through your North Face backpack for a stick of gum. God give me strenth until this buttcrack phenom blows over.

For some reason the MTV in the hotel is German MTV. While I was getting ready I caught that dating game where one person has five dates to choose from who all sit on a bus and wait for their turn. It was the American version with German subtitles. Besides being totally horrified with the stupidity and shallowness of it all (this from a girl who watched Studs religiously) the subtitles cracked me up. While I don't read German, I still tried to figure out how they would possibly translate all the slang and cheeseball sex metaphors being tossed around. I think they took some creative liberties because when one girl said "my body's at tight as a Jay-Z bootleg" the German subtitles said, "Ich ben ein Beyonce" or something like that.