Don't worry...I brushed this morning. AND used mouthwash.

I’ve never been one of those people to pepper my language with foreign phrases…the affectation drives me insane. When in America, and when you have no discernible accent, a “lift” is an elevator and you don’t “queue” up for a movie. It’s called a line. And so, while I could scatter a “mais oui!” or “ausgezeichnet!” legitimately throughout my speech, I would hope someone would whap me over the head with a baguette or force me to wear a beret as punishment for putting on airs. The beret alone scares me…the things it would do to my hair.

Language aside, however, it is a little known fact that I am a raving Francophile. I keep this to myself mostly because several people in my life are of the opinion that France would be lovely were it not FOR the French. I, however, couldn’t disagree more. I believe I was born in the wrong country and should, at this very moment, be riding along the Seine on a scooter, trailing a scarf behind me in the wind. And what of those complaints of “Oh, but THEY ARE SO RUDE!”? Clearly, these people never leave their houses or interact with the service industry in our own country. If anything, the fact that the French might berate you in such a lovely language should be reason enough to put up with some light disparaging.

Regardless, one thing I do in each city that I visit is look for their local French bistro. It’s fun to see other people’s take on such a traditional cuisine, and often chefs who attempt it are gloriously good at what they do. And so last night, our first in Portland, we went to Carafe, a restaurant I had read about first in Sunset magazine. People, I didn’t even brush my teeth last night so as to allow the Cassoulet to linger in my mouth for a while longer. It was bliss. A recommendation should you ever find yourself in this part of the world. The immediate arrival of a carafe of wine and freshly baked bread warmed us up from what was a rather brisk and long walk to the bistro. It’s my first time here...I’m allowed to get slightly lost.

So this morning I’m relaxing a bit and mapping out the rest of the day. I woke from a dead sleep to find that a cold had taken up residence in my chest. But! What HO! The hotel has a steam room which I’ll take advantage of later. Smoke out the germs, if you will. My goal today is to locate a good frozen yogurt shop, because along with scooting along the Seine, frozen yogurt is my other love. And an easy one to fulfill since it doesn’t require a passport to enjoy. Take note, should you ever need to get swiftly on my good side…