Paris- the Journal excerpts #3

Day 3- afternoon
After getting into Paris from Versailles...

Metro, lotsa people...oh, caught a conversation between two American guys. They were talking about which hostel was better, traveling Europe, bla, bla, bla. Then we get off on the same stop as them, they are behind us walking through the huge station. I hear their self-important drivel about how Americans are so lazy, they sit on the couch, how these guys love Europe where you can walk or Metro everywhere...on and on about American's and their fat asses. Then in mid sentence eschewing on the faults of their own countrymen an elevator opens it's doors and they excitedly hop on as the rest of us keep schlepping up the 7 staircases to the exit! Using my physic powers I believe the thought in their heads was, "Woo Hoo, elevators can carry our American-Jet-Setting-Back-Packing-Hiking asses up 4 floors so we won't get out of breath talking about what lazy curds Americans are!!" The irony was not lost on me.

We get off at the stop for the Marais district and run into a wall of people at the exit. We glance around them and see it is pouring outside. And guess where my raincoat is? Back at the hotel. We wait with everyone for 10 minutes or so but the rain shows no signs of letting up. Even though I have started my period (oh, I didn't mention that? Oh yes! I started my period and now have to be on the constant look out for another toilette and am cramping like you would not believe. Yay.)...what was I saying? Oh yea, I am cramping, sore from walking up 284 steps and now I am going to get soaked but we decided to make a run for it. We slink along the wall to the first awning we see. Then to the next. Then to the first open door. We pretend that of course we were coming in here to shop not just get out of the rain...Then we notice all the cool stuff. I find a green voile scarf for my Mom and an awesome multi-colored clay stone necklace for moi!

We continue hopping from store to store.

We find Paris' version of a Family Dollar with the coolest inexpensive stuff inside. As we leave Wendy asks the security guard if they sell umbrellas. He looks at us blankly. We then try to think of the french word for umbrella..nothing. We say umbrella in a french accent...nope. Then I mime an umbrella with rain falling on me. He finally shakes his head, points at the exit and we sulk away.

Stop at a cafe. I order a cafe and creme brulee. Wendy goes for safe with a cheesecake, you should of heard her and the waiter trying to figure out what they were each talking about.

Above is her cheesecake. This is about 1/4 of the size of a cheesecake serving in good ole US of A, am I right?

The creme brulee was heavenly. This coming from someone who hasn't eaten a sweet in 3 years and who once loved creme brulee. I crack the top and take my first bite. Wendy captured it on film (below), not sure how I feel about this picture of me but I love the french couple making out behind me.

Ecstasy of creme brulee

Really cool shop

Our Metro station, love the Art Nouveau

Marias by night

This is a cool district and it was hopping! Tourists and residents alike, walking, biking, scooting around. We found a lot of crazy shops (above) with costume stuff and S & M type wear. There were Pizza Hut's, McD's and KFC (the french love them some KFC) which were so incongruous with these cute boutiques and cafes.

Got back to the hotel (did we eat dinner?) and were met with the concierge, we liked to call him NateDog, who asked weren't we checking out tomorrow? Uh, no. My mind flashed back to when we checked in with a different concierge who I thought said "Sree (french accent for 3) nights?" Wendy said, "Yeah, oui." with her big smile. And I asked her about it in the tiny elevator, she said, No, the concierge said six....Back to the present, we stare at NateDog. Wendy starts smiling and going, "Uh, no, no...we check out on Wednesday." NateD doesn't give a flying french you-know-what. He says we need to talk with his associate in the morning. Well, NateDog, we are taking a train to London tomorrow morning, we can't do that...He says nonchalantly that we need to pack and have our stuff ready so they can move it in case the room is already rented (yes, it's rented to US, Jackwad!). Wendy is still smiling, she can't help but be nice, and he is already calculating what percentage of happiness it will bring him to be rid of us stupid Americans...I finally speak up, channeling my mother and Julia Baker, and say, "We are going to have a place to sleep tomorrow, right?!" Oh, yes, at least for one night, we will arrange it, he simpers. We go upstairs bitching and get our shit packed.

The Adventure continues...