A Five-Minute Talk

Determined to not repeat yesterday’s mistakes, I left early and biked to the Symposium. Along the way I bought a pastry for breakfast, which I enjoyed while waiting in the security line that I had missed by arriving so late the day before. It also appeared another event was happening down the hall and their registration was part of the hold-up, but I still managed to arrive early which gave me a more confident start to the day. Before I knew it, it was time for our session: the last of the day on the last day of the general sessions. I was the first panelist and my nerves helped me shave off a few seconds as I spoke faster than my practice. But finishing first also meant I could be more focused on the remarks of my fellow panelists, who were from diverse organizations and were really interesting to listen to. This was followed by Q&A, and it was nice to be in a position where I didn’t have to be embarrassed to not know the answers. I jotted down the questions to ask my colleagues when I got back to DC and with that, the event wrapped up.

Celebrating a successful presentation and wanting to work off the nerves, I wanted to bike to a pastry shop. One of the attendees lived in that neighborhood and gave some vague advice but a very helpful word I hadn’t learned on previous trips: Boulangerie. Armed with that, I wandered a bit before finding a bit of a perfection in a passion fruit torte.

One of my new favorite words in French!

And then I attempted to do the most cliché thing I could think of, in part inspired by a comment my younger brother had made right before my flight: I ate a baguette at the base of the Eiffel Tower. Or at least part of it; the rest would be part of breakfast the next day.

Cliché and delicious. 

Then it was back on the bike for a tour of the area, stopping at a few Boulangerie I passed along the way to practice my new-found vocabulary.

What's more vibrant, my coat or the bike?

Back at the hotel, I started to pack for the next phase of my trip and wrap up the work emails for a few days. Both resulted in a late dinner which was very Parisian, but terrible for bedtime. This time, I decided to let the internet provide a recommendation and the winner was a few blocks away but worth it. I ordered the Onion Soup, which would’ve been a meal in itself, but added the most amazing mashed potatoes as an additional dish. They were creamy, garlicy, and a larger portion than I thought was possible in this city of skinny people and dainty things. 

They just call in Onion Soup in France—so good!

I was so delicious I wanted to keep eating, but between the soup and all the pastries I’d enjoyed that afternoon I simply had to surrender before finishing it. Stuffed and tired, I shuffled back to the hotel and showered before the final packing and crashing for a few hours of sleep.