This sounds stupid, but don't laugh. I just realized the other day that I can write a believable story/short story set in Paris. I mean, I spent six months there.
It's amazing how sometimes you just don't think about the most obvious things in the world, isn't it?
I've been going through all the pictures I took there and systematically saving them onto my laptop. It's weird to see pictures of Versailles, and think, "Oh, I love that palace." And then remember that that day, it was pouring, and Yolanda wouldn't stop complaining about the rain, and I just wanted her to go away so I could enjoy myself. (She did, she took a tour of the palace - I'd done that before, and did it many times thereafter, and I enjoyed walking around the palace gardens.) Silly Spanish girls. (She's getting married in August. Yay for her!)
The first time I was in Paris, for mine and Sarah's little weekend stint, we managed to get to Versailles. Granted, we bought the wrong tickets and ended up paying a 40-euro fine, but that could happen to anybody.
Anyway, we have video evidence of poor, sweet, innocent, Sarah pointing her camera to L'Hotel de Ville en Versailles and saying, "And this is Versailles Castle."
"No dear," I said, and walked quickly to point around the corner, "Actually, that is." And there, spread out before us, lay Versailles. Sarah did this little gasp thing and shut the camera off. We both just stared. I wish I had a picture, but that was before I realized that it was wise to get pictures on cds.
That trip, the one with Sarah, was absolutely crazy. What were we thinking? What were our parents thinking? Ah well, it was fun, and we have some great memories. I have to admit, I'm impressed with us. Somehow, we were able to do everything we wanted to do. Everything. (According to my parents, I was supposed to look at La Sorbonne, but we didn't do that. Eh.) Even though we got lost at almost every turn, we still did everything we wanted. Amazing.