Written: 5/29/2010
Please read blog entries in order. I do not guarantee anything to make sense if read out of order.
So I need to start where I left off yesterday.
And for right now, because there's so much I need to tell you, I'm going to write the bare minimum, except for the especially interesting stories. If you want to know anything more, just let me know and I'll write more.
Now where was I? Notre Dame.
Walk walk, I'm there. Beggars. Street performers. Went inside. Huge. Snap snap, lots of pictures (see facebook for pictures). Little museum, I'm twenty-two. Lit candle, said prayer.
Back outside. Wanted to climb to the top. Found line; line was long. Stood for over an hour. Germans, Frenchmen, Asians all in line around me.
Finally went up. Lots of stairs. Out of shape. More pictures. See all of city. Even more stairs, saw bell tower. Stairs small, skinny and going round and round. Not made for fat Americans like me.
Street performer with black clown nose: scared me! Ah! Went to tiny cafe by Notre Dame. Ordered Croque-Monsieur and a Coke. Croque-Monsieur, like grilled cheese and ham, cheese on outside. Sat down, ate, had paid wrong price (huh??!). Ordered chocolate milkshake, used men's bathroom.
Walked around. Went to deportation memorial. Liked quote (see picture). Walked past Saint Chappelle church, decided to go to le Louvre instead. Lots of bridges, lots of walking.
Now, I told you that the French people are very nice... maybe too nice.
I decided to go sit down inside one of the courtyards of the Louvre. My legs were still kinds shaky from all the stairs and all the walking (shaky, I know, it felt really strange). While sitting there, collecting my thoughts, going through pictures, etc., a french guy comes over and starts speaking in French to me. I tell him I don't understand (je comprend pas), and then he repeats himself in English.
He told me he noticed me from the other side and that I was very beautiful.
Do you think I'm making this up? No! I kid you not!
Of course I blush and he sits down. We started talking and it was very pleasant. Where do you come from? Why are you here in Paris? What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? He was going to New York City in August; I'm working in Germany for the summer. Etc., etc., etc. The conversation continued with the talk of languages, and how long have you been learning them. We talked about the things that I would still like to see, and about how I would need more than three hours to visit inside the Louvre.
Then a group of girls caught my eye. They were jumping and taking pictures (just like us Max Kade girls!) and I started to smile and laugh. He asked me what I was thinking and I explained about my friends and I. But while he asked that, he tucked my hair behind my ears.
I hadn't noticed it until then, but he had been moving closer and closer. He was practically touching me!
I had all but ran from the scene. I mean, I was enjoying the conversation, and perhaps would have let him join me on a couple of my stops, but this had just weirded me out!
He had been so forward. Are all French men this way??
But once I had calmed down a bit, and thought through it, I came to realize that his intention all along was to pick me up. He wasn't just interested in practicing his English like he said; he was just out to find and American to hang out with.
Sure, if I had been anyone else... I would have continued to hang out with him. But it's just not the way I am. I am weirded out by strangers touching my hair.
For the rest of my first day, there isn't much to tell. I took the Metro (it was a better experience this time) back to the hostel. Loaded pictures onto computer (over 300 for one day), ended up falling asleep. Woke up again, wrote yesterday's blog, went back to sleep.
As far as today goes.... hmmm... Got up around nine-ish, ate. Fell asleep again, out the door by eleven. Bought day ticket for Metro, headed to the Eiffel tower. Guy playing accordion, another one starting singing with karaoke machine- all on the metro. Long line to go up the Tower. Talked to the Canadians ahead of me. Took stairs. Went to top (from the second floor to the very top, everyone takes the elevator- thank goodness)! Gorgeous views. Hundreds of pictures. Back down, back to hostel by six.
Yes, my whole Eiffel Tower experience took about seven hours.
A couple notable things about this experience: there must have been some kind of big game going around somewhere. It was for the USAP team, in- I think- rugby. Surprised that it wasn't soccer. I'll have to look it to know the details for sure. But one thing's for sure- if you ever thought that the Wolverines were crazy fans ever in your life- think again. The Wolverines have nothing on the USAP fans. Everyone was in red and yellow (and we can't even get everyone to wear yellow for a maize out!), everyone was shouting and screaming and chanting and singing. There was merriment all around, even before the game. There were many crowds in the Jardin next to the tower, and the traffic was crazy for hours. Honk honk. Beep beep.
The second notable thing, at least for me, was the waiter in the restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower told me that my French was very good. Of course, it was a very simple sentence: je voudrais une Croque-Monsieur et un petit Coca-cola. Anyone could get that correct, right?
Now I am back in the hostel, and new people are moving in and out. One even said that he had been moving rooms.... hmmm.... I'm glad I haven't had to move my junk all over the place.
Tomorrow I will be heading back to Germany, so now I must go to a train station in order to reserve my train back to Frankfurt. I still haven't decided if I'm heading to the west coast to see Normandy or not yet.
Au revoir!
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