What to expect + The Calm Before the Storm

I hope to photograph all the things I see in Europe. Whether dull or brilliant, I want you to see what I see. Part of the reason why I'm going is to show my friends and family what they might have seen or may not have seen yet. I will write about things sometimes in english, sometimes in french. I hope to use some of these photos to build some sort of photoessay about Europe. Nothing too serious but maybe I can show things that you've never seen before in a way that you might never see it. I need to get used to explaining my feelings without having a specific person in mind. Please reader, understand that I've never done this. I was under the impression that nothing I could say was intelligible by other beings with some sort of pulse. Recently someone, that I honestly don't listen to, told me that this website was overrated which inspired me to try this thing out. I called this "Tales from the Eiffel Tower" because if you use your imagination, all that I'm photographing can be seen from the famous tower. (You'll probably notice that my sentences are random thoughts that are stitched together in something you've learned to call "paragraphs". My paragraphs tend to lack any sort of flow. This is my style, or lack there of.)

So... I'm going to France. It's crazy isn't it? The very thought of that makes my mind implode. It helps to think that in nine month's I'm going to look back on this and think of the great moments I spent in the cradle of civilization. I call this part The Calm Before the Storm because if I could paint you a picture of how my stomach looks/feels right now, that's it. I feel relaxed but at the same time it's almost like I'm wincing at the knowledge that I'm going to go on three different flights, cross quite a few time zones, and leave the realm of general ignorance. By that I mean, I'm leaving the USA. I'm finally going to immerse myself in the world of where my father's mysterious roots originate from. For those that don't know, my father is a mysterious person. Not to say that he's a former French special forces agent who fought in five different continents and has battle scars when he flexes his monstrous biceps; quite different. He's a relaxed man that'll talk when spoken to and he's from a foreign land that I've failed to embrace my whole entire short life. So I can't help but thinking. This is it. This is my chance to take a stab at being semi-cultured. Do you know what it is when I say, "Lyon? Oh yes, I've been there. Twice, in fact. Fantastic brie if I do say so myself..." (In a wicked Berkshire accent, might I add.) The more I think about it, the more I come to the following conclusion. This is it. You're going to France, make this the best thing ever. Live it, Love it, Breathe it, Be it. Hopefully this is the most satisfying thing I've ever done. EVER. (That's what she said.)

-Didier.

This is my father. He's awesome.