Paris, je t'aime! Mais tu n'es pas Seville.

PARIS, FRANCE--I arrived in Paris today, somehow safe and sound and I am now, at quarter to two, in a little apartment with a crane-your-neck-out-the-window view of the Eiffel Tower.

I packed today in 20 minutes, not even coming close to reaching the 10 kilo RyanAir weight limit. With my high level intelligence after four hours of sleep, I crammed everything I could into my tiny leather backpack from fake-Morocco in Granada, rather than a larger, more comfortable and decidedly more American backpack.

I hopped onto my RyanAir flight and up in the air, over the lush countryside of France, as I was stuck in my seat--which was unassigned, as apparently is the norm for RyanAir--I debated whether or not to get up and find the bathroom. I hoped that RyanAir hadn't started charging for the bathroom. Thankfully, they hadn't.

My friend Natalie is in Paris for part of the summer and was kind enough to let me come. We both keep lapsing into Spanish instead of attempting French.  So far, it's been a fun experience to be in a country where I don't understand most of what's being said,

I arrived in Paris Beauvais airport: surprise for me. So, to note for other travelers: there was no payphone and a taxi ride would cost 160 Euro into Paris. I hopped on the 15 Euro bus ride, half-slept the hour or so journey and arrived in Paris, unsure what to do.
The French girl ahead of me, talking in broken English to an American Navy woman with the world's cutest baby, was kind enough to show me where the nearest metro station was. I figured she had a phone, mentioned the fact I needed to find a payphone to call a friend and--as I hoped--offered me hers! Her iPhone was sweet, I reached Natalie, gave her ambiguous directions to find me, and waited. For 45 minutes on an ever-darkening, ever-crowding Paris city corner. I nearly resorted to strolling over to a huge line outside of a club to ask a friendly patron for his or her cell phone to call Natalie again, when I saw her!

I literally had no plans for my arrival, hadn't researched where Beauvais was nor had a clue where Natalie lived as far as the metro lines go. But, no need to worry.

I'm here now, happy, full and tired and nursing my wounded nose: I just had the hottest dijon mustard in the planet. I love spicy foods, like jalapeños, but this thing burnt the inside of my nasal cavity. I think the man at the greasy spoon café was trying to kill me. Maybe because I called the salat, lechuga. Lo siento...I mean, je regrete.

*EDIT: Thanks Lucas, for the correction in the title.