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Sugared Out

When I got back from my week in Paris, I was telling my neighbor a little about the experience. She asked, “And did you try all kinds of pastries?” I paused for a moment, not because I had to think about it but because I was surprised by my answer. “No.” What surprised me about this was that when we were in Paris, it didn’t even occur to me to go try a lot of pastries. It simply wasn’t something that was appealing to me at the time. Don’t get me wrong – the dessert that I had at our Thanksgiving lunch was amazing, and I definitely enjoyed the Taste of Paris tour we took, where I got to sample spicebread, various cheeses, chocolates, and hot chocolate. It was more that since we were walking a lot, I was craving more substantial foods that would hold me for longer. In fact, my niece and I had the following conversation on our way back to the apartment Thanksgiving evening. As background, a friend of mine had recommended a particular chain that sold Italian gelato, and we all thought that might be fun to try at some point. We found one of the places on Monday, but at that point we were too chilled to think about something cold and instead had hot chocolate. (Side note – hot chocolate in France is the real thing, not the pale imitation we have here. It’s actual chocolate that’s heated to the point of being liquid, and oh so tasty.) Since by Thursday our stay was coming to a close, I asked my niece and brother, “Do you want to stop for gelato?” My brother was noncommittal, but my niece replied, “I’m not really in the mood for it. I feel like I’ve had enough sweet things right now.” (This was after our big lunch with the tasty desserts.) I considered if I wanted some and realized that I had to agree with her. “Yeah, I’m fairly sugared out, too.” Instead, we stopped and got some salad with tuna and bread. When I think about my younger self, I’m not sure I ever got to that point of being “sugared out”, except perhaps on Easter or Halloween after gorging on candy. Certainly not after just one sweet hours beforehand. It still surprises me to think that I’ve come to this point, where I don’t want something just because it’s there, or it may be the only chance I’ll have to try it. If I’m hungry for it, I’ll have it, but at that time and place I wasn’t, and I’m okay with that. Besides, having things yet untasted just gives me another excuse to go back to Paris someday.

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