At first, my hotel room was a little disappointing—very small. Both the bath door and the big window hit the bed when open. I’ve come, however, to find it very homey. Light floods in from the large Parisian window. I'm on the sixth floor—looking down on a lively street. It's very clean and has every thing I need. Across the street you can see in the windows of other travelers, just doing their thing. It's all, and more, of that romantic Paris that I remembered—and imagined. After the harried and demoralizing experience at the train station, everything has improved and people have been great. One student ran a block to give me a paper I'd left with her when asking for directions. My room wasn't ready when I arrived, so I took a stroll down the
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