Bienvenue!

Everyone should know how to say "Welcome!" in lots of languages. Right? In French, we say "Bienvenue!" And everyone should know Thank You (Merci) and Please (Sil vous plait) and You're Welcome (de rien). So that at least we can be polite.

Except, if you're French-Canadian, these basics can be confusing. In French, as in Spanish, the precise translation of "you're welcome" (as in, the response to Thank You) is actually "it's nothing." De Rien means, literally, "of nothing."

But in Canada, where the French is mixed with the English from next-door, someone will say "Merci" and be met with "Bienvenue." Because the Frenglish mixes "you're welcome" with its literal translation, which is "bienvenue." Which is funny.

It's also why Canada is in desperate need of native French to come and translate (dub) their American TV shows. So that there remains some semblance of proper French, as if any language is a static or proper thing. But its also why Isabelle Neyret moved from Paris to Montreal to dub shows such as Smallville. And when she left, she left an apartment and a studio in the 19th. Where we now stay. So you see, its all related.

Anyway, the point of all that is that I'm back in Paris. Michael is with me. I'm recovering from jet-lag, which is to say, in the past month, I've been from Paris to Texas. Texas to Hawaii. Hawaii to Texas. Texas to New York. New York to Paris. My internal clock has sputtered, bleeped, and imploded. I don't know when to sleep, when to shit, when to be hungry. But life will settle out - for the next two months, at least.

To be brief, Hawaii is as beautiful as they say. We stayed on Kauai (pronouced: kwai), the Garden Isle, home to a mountainous coast and the wettest spot on Earth. It rained, sporadically, for twenty minutes at a time about ten times a day. But the payoff? Lusciousness. Waterfalls. Surf.

What is deceptive about Hawaii is its distance from the mainland. On maps, we see it in its little box right next to California. But it is not, as the ten hour plane ride assured us, right next to California. Not in the slightest. It is, in fact, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Which I guess explains why we acquired the place; not, in fact, purely as a vacation spot for deserving Americans. But rather, as a strategic naval base. And also a delightful vacation spot.

Delightful, indeed. We surfed. We did a helicopter tour. We rafted around the island. We ziplined over valleys and swam in the ocean. We layed around the condo and read books and watched TV. My dad got hitched. I kauai'd. It was lovely.

Texas was just an acrobatic attempt to see all my friends, and to catch up with them on their lives, which apparently went on in full force in my absence. Shocking, I know, but true. Babies were conceived, babies were born. Weddings were planned, break-ups were orchestrated. Hairs were cut. Beards were grown and shaved. Jobs were quit and houses were bought. Law school semesters were completed. All in all, it was a whirlwind and a half just to keep track of the crazies.

New York was lovely, too. Caitlin lives in a beautiful Harlem brownstone, near 145th, right around the corner from the Tenenbaum house, in fact. Her roommates are great. We went to the Whitney, ate dinner with my cousin Tim, and went to my favorite village restaurant, the Grey Dog. Other than that, we mostly slept in and watched Curb your Enthusiasm on DVD.

But it was wonderful, and I spent the whole time glad to be coming back to Texas - in the end - and glad to be headed off for Paris Round 2, as well. I feel entirely welcome in both spots. This time around, we'll hopefully welcome quite a few visitors: Bob arrives in a couple of days, and Kristin & Mike will be here for their spring break. Lots of others have mentioned coming, but my new policy is to not believe it until I'm sent a flight itinerary.

So if you've always wanted to come to Paris - or, hell, Texas, for that matter - you're welcome, to be sure, with open arms. Bienvenue!