I thought our school French wasn’t too bad, but it turns out it’s terrible. No one understands us in Paris, or else they pretend not too. I used to think Niki was better at French than me for some reason but now I think she’s just more confident. She has taken to saying “Les dieux et les petits poissons”, which confuses everyone. It was getting late and we weren't having much luck - everyplace seems to be booked already. I thought sleeping on the streets in Paris might be kind of romantic, but Niki reminded me we need an outlet for our curling iron.
We did finally find a room, a square box on the sixth floor of a pension. The bed dips in the middle and there's ony one light in the entire place but if you stand on the toilet you can see the Sacre Coeur out of a tiny window in the roof. It's absolutely perfect!

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