Bon Appetit Read Online Free PDF

eyelashes and just as mysterious. Window boxes spilled over with a gluttony of flowers. I smiled. This was Paris.
    I got off at Nôtre Dame, the most famous church in the world. I recalled watching
The Hunchback of Nôtre Dame
as a young teen, Tanya and I in our sleeping bags in my family room, me dreaming of France, a little Francophile already. Now I was a woman at the very church itself. I swallowed some sorrow and wished Tanya were here to see it too.
    The sanctuary was airy, musty, and thick with the history of thecity it dominated. The gargoyles grimaced at me, liked they’d escaped the legions of hell. A plaque read,
All distances in France are measured from Nôtre Dame. Nôtre Dame is Mile One.
    As I walked out and waited at the Big Red Bus Stop, I thought about that. It made me sad. The French marked their way from the church, but God was the last person on anyone’s mind. The cafés were full to bursting. The churches were empty of anyone save tourists.
    I ate an orange
crêpe
to stave off my hunger as I walked down the Champs-Elysées, wind blowing in my hair. Everyone held hands with someone, or had their arm around a loved one’s waist. I put my hands in my pockets and kept walking, looking for a place to eat dinner. Every corner had a café, of course, but I didn’t want to stop. Finally, I looked at one of the many chalkboards proclaiming today’s specials.
    Tables spilled from the café’s interior to the patio outside, full ofkissing couples and laughing families and friends. I wasn’t hungry.

    I trudged back to my hotel room, walked up the stairs, and closed the door behind me. And then I cried.
    So God
, I prayed through ragged breaths,
here I am. Some dream. No friends, no family, no one to hold hands with. I’m working with red knuckles. I’m not going to a friend’s wedding. I sold the most beautiful dress I’ve ever owned so I could sightsee alone. Is this the dream You had in mind for me? Why didn’t You tell me it would be like this? I could have saved myself the hassle, gone to some cooking school in the US, stayed with Dan, hung out with my friends, and had a life
.
    I waited for God to explain Himself. He remained silent.
    I washed my face with a cold washcloth to cool my cheeks. I picked up the phone and ordered a bucket of ice. So what if they knew I was American. I was paying. I took a Coke out of the minibar, not caring if it cost $7.50. When the ice came, I poured the Coke over it and slammed the whole glass in one guzzle.
    Then I sat, waiting for God again. I wanted to hear from Him. I really did. I thought,
look in the Bible
, but then remembered I hadn’t packed my Bible. In fact, I hadn’t read it at all since arriving in France.
    I opened the drawers of the desk and the bedside table. Nothing. Of course not. The French didn’t put Bibles in hotel rooms.
    I really wanted to read the Bible. This was the first time in my life I had craved it, and none were accessible. I felt empty.
    I looked at my watch and called my dad.
    “Hi, Dad!” I said, trying to sound happy.
    “Hi, Lexi. What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just calling to say hi”.
    “At eight in the morning?”
    “Time difference, you know,” I said. “I’m sightseeing in Paris. I went to Nôtre Dame today”.
    “Good, honey, I’m glad you’re having fun. I was a little hesitant about you doing this French thing, but if you’re happy, I’m happy. It was worth the cost of the ticket”.
    I swallowed a lump. “Thanks, Dad. I’m doing well. Everything isn’t as easy as I thought it would be …”
    “Nothing is ever as we expect it to be, Lexi. The higher the expectations I have for something, the more disappointed I usually am. Take all of your expectations and throw them out the window. You’re not French, remember. You don’t give up”.
    My sorrow cracked a little, and I laughed. “No, Dad, you’re right”.
    “And you can come home after your schooling if you want,” he said,