Zach's Mission to Planet France

Zach is on a quest.

"I really, really only want two simple things," he keeps telling me, with a slight plea in his voice. "A Wall Street Journal to read and a gym so I can lift."

These rather quotidien things would seem simple enough to find in a city that has a newsstand in every charming square and is bursting with strolling Aixois who eat copious amounts of butter while maintaining a jean size I would kill for.

Zach has forgotten one simple fact though: he isn't in American anymore.

All the gyms we come across seem to have a naked or partially naked woman lifting weights on a poster out front. This automatically means Zach won't dare enter-- afraid to find what they advertise amongst his godly bench and saintly free weights.

All the newsstands do not sell his paper of choice. They sell papers in French, German, and Italian. They sell magazines and crossword puzzles and sudoku. We even checked a few bookstores, hoping their international section might contain an old issue. Absolutely no journals amongst the rows and rows of French literature.

Zach's mission has failed-- but maybe, this French culture hazing is good for my solidly American boyfriend.

Annie, thinking of Zach, bought him a copy of the Herald Tribune (the international section of the New York Times) today. He smiled from ear to ear when he showed me the paper after I arrived back from class this afternoon, and commenced to read outloud a hilarious article about Switzerland's problem with nude hikers in the Alps.

For those of you who do not know Zach-- he only needs four things to be truly happy.

1. A gym
2. Wall Street Journal
3. A full stomach
4. Access to his email on his Blackberry

So, maybe after date tonight, he will be half happy, as a 3-course French meal finished with an evening read of the Herald Tribune isn't a bad French compromise.