To recap the start of the Princess Half Marathon, here’s basically how it went:
RunDisney announcer: “We have a special announcement for you, but first a video…” [Video starts showing France in Epcot, Kellie and I start hitting each other on the arm] Kellie starts yelling: “IT’S PARIS! IT’S PARIS! I MEAN THAT’S FRANCE IN EPCOT BUT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT THE PARIS RACE!”
I’m not a Fracophobe. I don’t have a knee-jerk reaction of “I hate the French”. In fact, I actually kinda like French. My French sucks, but I like it. I’d show you photos of my one trip to France, but this was 10 (ok, 11) years ago before anyone had digital cameras so they’re all on actual film. In a Diddl album, that’s how European I am.
It was fall. It was wonderful. I loved it. Nutella crepes on every street corner for like less than 5 euros. That’s living the fucking dream, people. It was like being in a Madeleine book, I even had these two windows in the hotel room that opened up and you just saw rooftops and the Eiffel Tower and were like “Oh god, it really is like the France pavilion.” BECAUSE IT IS.
In fact, I would go so far as to say I will spend the bare minimum amount of time in Disneyland and the rest of my time eating my way through Paris, because in my family we don’t tour museums, we eat. Then we eat some more. And honestly, I can forgive these people a lot because their pastries are just so damn good.
“Don’t worry, you’re not missing anything.” — My Mom on the Louvre