Paris, je t’aime.

I arrived in Paris this past Friday morning tired, cold, and rained on.

I had just gotten off the bus and was walking towards my hotel, luggage in tow, when I witnessed an accident between a small car and a man on a bicycle. In there, the dilemma: the man on the bicycle only spoke Spanish, while the man in the small car only spoke English. The local police officer who stopped to help didn’t speak a word of any language other than French.

So there I was — with my tired and cold English, my rusty French, and my broken Spanish — standing in the middle of the intersection, luggage in tow, surrounded by three men who could only speak to one another through me.

In the end, the police officer walked away satisfied that the situation was under control, the Englishman drove away after receiving a harsh warning, and the Spaniard rode away with just a small bruise on his left arm.

Leaving me alone to walk to my hotel, luggage in tow.

Welcome to Paris.