La blonde

One interesting difference between living in Spain (as I did two years ago) and living in France now if my ability to blend in. Except perhaps in the biggest cities, I clearly stick out as a foreigner in Spain. The blond hair is a dead giveaway. In France, however, as long as I keep my mouth shut and resist the temptation to wear my comfy running shoes I can pass as French. Several times after getting into conversations with hotel clerks or museum workers or strangers on the street, I've been interrupted by a surprised, "You're not French!" Sometimes the phrasing is such that I can't tell if the person is making a statement or asking a question, and I usually respond as if it were a question ("No, I'm not. I'm American.") though I've been tempted to insist on my 'Frenchness' just to see if I can get away with it.

Today (after calling my dad before 8 am on his time...) I finally bought my return ticket to France for after this upcoming vacation. After my uncle Jim leaves from Krakow on March 1st, I'm going up to Warsaw for a few days before flying back to Paris on the 4th. The best ticket (by 'best' I mean available and cheap) was on Wizzair, a new budget airline based in Eastern Europe. Either because it is very new or because it generally only serves European customers, when I was directed to select my country from a pull-down menu the United States was not an option!