"It looks like Ohio," he said in response to my oohs and aahs. How plainly put. With my nose pressed against the cold window during the last leg of our flight to Paris, the northern French countryside could've been the surface of the moon. After circling above the Baltic Sea and starting our descent into Charles de Gaulle one could only hope that the thirteen hours of miniature cocktails, artsy Swedish plastic ware, and aromatherapy …showed first 75 words of 738 total…

…showed last 75 words of 738 total…an. I was surprised at myself when I noticed how relieved I was to hear the sarcastic tones of the customs official when I landed in Washington, D.C. Although my puerile notions of traveling to France were realized, and I had set foot in museums and seen in person works of art I had poured over in textbooks since I was little, the Northern French countryside did look an awful lot like the Midwest.