"April in Paris"

I don't get this song. I feel like I need to see the movie, or at least the Broadway show, but as far as I know neither of these things exist for this song, despite it's presense in the 'All-Time Broadway Hit Parade' section. I think this song could grow on me, but it needs a bit of context, whether it's from my experience, or on the big screen or stage.

I've never been to Paris. All of my overseas trips have been to England, first because it was someplace that my mother and I had always wanted to visit, and then because of trips planned with my husband's family. He was born in England and came here as a thirteen year old. I have always been sad that he doesn't have more of an accent, but the peer pressure was intense at that age to lose it. My friends get a big kick out of trying to make him say 'banana', and the very few other words that still sound British.

What is the fascination with 'foreign parts', for me, at least? And mostly it seems to be centered around things that are very ordinary, and yet somehow different: grocery stores are so interesting, and magazines, and the coin and currency. (my money is always so much heavier there, and a change purse is a necessity.) I love the yoghurt drinks that they have in the highway rest centre where we always stop outside of London. The different kinds of sandwiches available in the fast food chain 'Pret a Manger', not to mention their freshness and relative cheapness, are always fun. We come home with suitcases full of shower gel from Boots, bath supplies from Lush, Branston pickle, Cadbury chocolate, weird flavors of Pringles like 'Curry' and 'Paprika', tea, and digestible biscuits. It's required that we have curry take out at least once, and fish and chips at least once, and that we have a 'picnic' that ends up being eaten in the car because it's raining. Somehow this never stops the picnic from occurring, and it's almost expected.

I love living in Pittsburgh, and for all my utter embarassment about politics in our country today, I am very happy, and lucky, to be American. But I like knowing that at any time my husband, or my half-British daughter, could decide to pick up and move across the ocean, and I'd probably be able to tag along. I couldn't imagine moving for good, but to have all the Cadbury chocolate that I wanted for a year or so--ah--that might be quite pleasant. Jolly good, even.