Two weeks feels too short a time to spend in Paris, city of lights, especially duing winter when darkness falls so early and the lights start sparkling. It sometimes seemed we had just finished lunch and emerged sleepy and contented from the bistro, after two bottles of cheap and excellent wine and a hearty meal that ended with creamy cheese and strong coffee, and it was already nearly twilight. The light was pale and silvery, and just a few blocks away on the Champs Elysee we could see the graceful trees, stripped of leaves but adorned with white lights arranged in perfect spirals. I knew it was cliche but I couldn't help it - I was moved.

We were staying at the apartment of a friend of ours who was spending the holidays in San Francisco. His place was breathtakingly huge for Paris (or for San Francisco, for that matter.) Three bedrooms, a vast salon, an adorable kitched with bright blue tiles on the floor, and excellent heating. It was also situated in the posh 16th (ah, le seizième, said Jesse's mom with a grin when she heard) on the Avenue Kleber, next to the famous Hotel Raphael.

But I think my favorite feature of Parisian apartments is the proportion of the windows, tall, elegant, stately constructions that even the tiniest closet-sized box has.

Two weeks without touching, I swear to you, a single videogame. I couldn't even locate my DS Lite before my flight, so I didn't have my trusty Advance Wars or Fire Emblem to keep me company. And I didn't miss it at all.

Now of course I'm home and the DSL has mysteriously stopped working so I will need to bend my energies to fixing that if I'm to play any WoW this weekend.

Still, when the frigid air hits my cheek as I walk to work, I can't help thinking how much I miss Paris.