Paris. Paris? Paris!

Paris.

Lucy POV

We exited the plane hearing whispers from our classmates. Paris. We are in Paris. WHERE IN PARIS BABY. I'm classmates are unique to say the least. Me. I think Paris is over rated. I mean the Eiffel Tower. It's just a heap of old metal. Mont Marte. A big old church. This place is soooo tacky. I mean come on. The art of Greece is so much better. The architecture, the statues, the ceramics, they all come from ancient Greece. We walk though the airport grab our baggage and leave Charles de Gaulle airport through a road that keeps spiralling up and up and up and up, around and around and around and around. We arrive at the motel in Osny (pronouced oh-knee) and get ready for bed. If I can admire the French for more then 5 reasons then I'm either crazy or in love with this tacky city. The sun sets at 10 and I curl up in bed and read about ancient Greece. My obsession. The next morning Mr Taylor took us to see the sights of Paris while we were on our way to the Museum. We went through all these rooms talking about the fashion and the life of an impressionist artist. One of the rooms was like a train carriage and you look out the window to see the screen. We all had audio guides in English except Susan. She can speak, read and write in French fluently. The reason we are here is the next unit we are doing is impressionism. After the museum which was the actual house an impressionist artist who's name I have forgotten we walked around and had a drink looking at a building Van Gogh painted. Across the road from that building was the room Van Gogh lived in. Instead of a house or an apartment he lived in the attic of a little inn. You can see the window in the roof which was his only window. His apartment was so small and cramped. To pay for his room he would give the owner a painting every week. He never sold a painting in his life. Mr Taylor then took us the see his grave. One thing the French are known for is for fancying up places and things but Van Gogh and his brother Theodore's grave was left untouched with ivy and flowers growing over it. I have to admire the French for that. I was glad people weren't crowding around and taking photos. Instead everyone was solemn except Justin and his posse. They were laughing and mucking around. As usual. Mr Taylor silenced them and for once they listened. Susan nudged me. Did I forget to mention Susan is my best friend. Susan spoke to me as we left.

"Lets go to a Boulanger Patisserie (Bakery and Pastry Chefs Shop)." Susan took her phone out and started texting someone. 

"Who are you texting?"

"A friend of mine."

"This 'friend' of yours wouldn't happen to be Mr Mystery would it." 

"No" said Susan blushing. 

"OMG it is." 

"Shut up."

Mr Mystery is Susans mystery guy. He lives here in France and they always get together if either of them are in the same country.  

"Come along girls." said Mr Taylor "We have to get back to the hotel."

"5 more minutes. Sir." Susan pleaded

"2." 

"Fine."

Susan dragged me into the shop and bought us both a bread roll.

"A bread roll." I whined. I wanted one of those pastries in the window. They looked fantabulous. "I could have a bread roll at home."

"Try it." Susan pressed

I took a huge bite.

"OMG. This thing is amazing."

"They use plain flour but because the flour isn't exported and because of the soil, bread tastes even better. Everything tastes awesome in Paris. You have to admire the bakers. They are marvellous."

"Time to go girls."

"Coming sir." I said, but sounded more like Oming ser since my mouth was still full. "I'm so glad you dragged me in there."