Paris is full of hipsters

"My God.... It's full of hipsters."No, but seriously, Paris is full of hipsters. Should I be surprised? Not really. Am I? A bit.

Also, I'm making a list of nationalities people have guessed me to be, as well as a list of nationalities I have pretended to be (to avoid the American stereotype of being 'easy'). The lists are as follows:

Guesses:
American, Australian, Canadian, English, French, Irish, Italian, Scottish, Spanish, Swedish

Pretenses:
Canadian, Scottish, English

More lists include how many men have accosted me (so far 3, one tried to walk up to me and hug me in the middle of the sidewalk but I evaded him; another asks "Do you have a boyfriend?" I respond, "Yes." He asks again, "Are you SURE?" I say, "Yes!" And he swears, "PUTAIN!"), how many people have mistaken me for being Parisian (7-10), how many people have listened to me stutter and realized I'm NOT Parisian (6-7), and how many people have asked me for directions to a Metro station (4).

I'm sure as these numbers mount towards innumerable, I will give up on the lists. But for now, it's a very good indicator of how well I am (or am not) fitting in here.

I had coffee today. Delicious. French coffee is amazing, there's none other like it. I think I had a dream where somebody was correcting my grammar. I forget.

I walked past Notre Dame today and back. (Below is the view of Notre Dame standing on Pont Sully--Sully Bridge)That's a round trip of about 8 kilometers (4-5 miles?). This walking was caused by my new friend from the hostel, a girl from Sweden named Hanna. That is, she has a job in a clothing store called Cop-Copine on Rue du Four (near Boulevard Saint-Germain), and we had lunch together. She says I should visit her in Sweden during one of my vacations. I agree.

I stood staring at that view (above) for a good 20 minutes. They were doing construction on Pont Sully below me, so some Protection Civile de Paris guy in a boat was going in circles below. Lots of tourist boats passed by... but whatever.

I've spoken to my host mother twice so far. She's extremely nice, and we're going to have breakfast on Sunday, where she'll take me shopping for groceries and give me the key to the apartment. This will be great; my only concern is that I won't be able to figure out how to get inside the apartment building. Apartments in France are confusing. Gah.

Alright, I'm bored. Gonna find something else to do on the internet, 'k bye.