My friend Peggy and I had both been to Paris before, but always as chaperones for youth groups or part of adult groups, seeing all the usual tourist sites and hearing the same tour guide recitations. This would be the first time on our own -- without responsibilities and free to go anywhere and try anything.
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On previous trips we had seen all the famous monuments and "tourist sights." The guidebooks claimed that locals were rude and indifferent to visitors but there had to be more to the people of Paris than that. This time we wanted to find the real Parisians.
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We spent some time exploring small shops and lesser-known museums and churches. We walked along canals and down narrow lanes, seeing a different Paris, but still not making any real contact with the people of this magnificent city.

One evening, with the help of the night clerk at our quaint hotel, we found a tiny cafe known only to locals. Nestled inside a dark passage, its unlit sign read, "Chez Maurice." We peeked in the small window on the door to see a small room with half a dozen tables, each with enough chairs for eight patrons. We opened the heavy door and went inside.
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We were greeted by a burly proprietor, whose smile faded when he discovered we were foreigners with a limited command of the French language. He turned his back and retreated to the kitchen, muttering under his breath and slowly shaking his head from side to side. Not a good start.

A moment passed and a young woman led us to our seats at the other end of a table already occupied by an elderly couple. She gave us two menus.

For a few minutes we struggled to recall a few French words, but discovered that the descriptions of each dish were too much for us.
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Our table mates noticed our dilemma. The old man leaned over and began explaining each dish, one at a time. Since he spoke very little English, his translations took the form of elaborate gestures and animal sounds. A fish entree was depicted as a fish swimming upstream, jumping and splashing in the water. For the beef dish, he pretended that his hands were horns on the side of his head, accompanied by a 'mooing' sound.

When the young waitress returned, we placed our order and our new 'friends' gave her explicit instructions on how to prepare the food and what side dishes we should have. Despite our limited ability to speak the other's language, we continued our lively conversation throughout the meal. We discovered that they were in their seventies and had been sweethearts for about ten years. She lived nearby in Paris, while he lived in the country. They met here once a week to share a pleasant dinner. Frankly, I have no idea how we understood each other, but we talked about the beauty of Paris, our lives and families, and of course, our other travels.
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Near the end of the evening, a flower vendor made her way through the cafe. We watched as the old gentleman purchased a bouquet. Artfully, he plucked two flowers from the bunch, presented the bouquet to his lady, and gave her a kiss. Then, bowing smartly in our direction, he held out a rose, one for each of us.

We had found our Paris.

Father Frost

In a far-away country, somewhere in Russia, there lived a stepmother who had a stepdaughter and also a daughter of her own. Her own daughter was dear to her, and always whatever she did the mother was the first to praise her, to pet her; but there was but little praise for the stepdaughter; although good and kind, she had no other reward than reproach. What on earth could have been done? The wind blows, but stops blowing at times; the wicked woman never knows how to stop her wickedness. One bright cold day the stepmother said to her husband:

"Now, old man, I want you to take your daughter away from my eyes, away from my ears. You shall not take her to your people into a warm hut. You shall take her into the wide, wide fields to the crackling frost."wow power leveling

The old father grew sad, began even to weep, but nevertheless helped the young girl into the sleigh. He wished to cover her with a sheepskin in order to protect her from the cold; however, he did not do it. He was afraid; his wife was watching them out of the window. And so he went with his lovely daughter into the wide, wide fields; drove her nearly to the woods, left her there alone, and speedily drove away--he was a good man and did not care to see his daughter's death. Following continue.

Alone, quite alone, remained the sweet girl. Broken-hearted and terror-stricken she repeated fervently all the prayers she knew.

Father Frost, the almighty sovereign at that place, clad in furs, with a long, long, white beard and a shining crown on his white head, approached nearer and nearer, looked at this beautiful guest of his and asked:wedding dresses,

"Dost you know me?--me, the red-nosed Frost?"

"Be welcome, Father Frost," answered gently the young girl. "I hope our heavenly Lord sent you for my sinful soul."

"Are you comfortable, sweet child?" again asked the Frost. He was exceedingly pleased with her looks and mild manners.

"Indeed I am," answered the girl, almost out of breath from cold.
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And the Frost, cheerful and bright, kept crackling in the branches until the air became icy, but the good-natured girl kept repeating:

"I am very comfortable, dear Father Frost."

But the Frost, however, knew all about the weakness of human beings; he knew very well that few of them are really good and kind; but he knew no one of them even could struggle too long against the power of Frost, the king of winter. The kindness of the gentle girl charmed old Frost so much that he made the decision to treat her differently from others, and gave her a large heavy trunk filled with many beautiful, beautiful things. He gave her a rich cloak lined with precious furs; he gave her silk quilts--light like feathers and warm as a mother's lap. What a rich girl she became and how many magnificent garments she received! And besides all, old Frost gave her a blue dress ornamented with silver and pearls. This site is on the Crushers：crusher。

When the young girl put it on she became such a beautiful maiden that even the sun smiled at her.

The stepmother was in the kitchen busy baking pancakes for the meal which it is the custom to give to the priests and friends after the usual service for the dead.

"Now, old man," said the wife to the husband, "go down to the wide fields and bring the body of thy daughter; we will bury her."
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The old man went off. And the little dog in the corner wagged his tail and said:

"Bow-wow! bow-wow! the old man's daughter is on her way home, beautiful and happy as never before, and the old woman's daughter is wicked as ever before."

"Keep still, stupid beast!" shouted the stepmother, and struck the little dog. Went to eat, while repeat.

"Here, take this pancake, eat it and say, 'The old woman's daughter will be married soon and the old man's daughter shall be buried soon.'"

The dog ate the pancake and began anew:
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"Bow-wow! bow-wow! the old man's daughter is coming home wealthy and happy as never before, and the old woman's daughter is somewhere around as homely and wicked as ever before."

The old woman was furious at the dog, but in spite of pancakes and whipping, the dog repeated the same words over and over again.

Father Frost

While we all knew that the purples we had were essentially going to be more like blues, we did not hear, or even guess, that our armor would be nerfed by 2 new tiers of armor. The lack of communication for even some of my relatively new-to-WoW guildies (that is, those who just started raiding at the end of Lich King) are confused and a bit hurt by this move. It's hard to explain it to them, even as a vet, since this is something Blizz has never done.
As others have said, it feels like Blizzard is mainly aiming at the casual of casuals who simply wanna grind, and the ladder match crews, when it comes to pvp. World pvpers and BG fans are still stuck in an awkward area where we don't have access to the moderately high end stuff without needing a decent amount of coordination. Remember, we essentially need a full raid (no 9 manning it) for RBGs, and have to defeat real people to win our "epics." Yes, we can pvp, but as previously noted, the change to the high-end PvP currency actually gives you less of the currency than you could previously achieve even after Blizz attempted to raise the limit on weekly acquisition.
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