Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Paris

Sunday in Paris. It was a beautiful day. We started our tour at the Louvre. We were warned not to take flash pictures, so of course some of our crowd did, and got in trouble. I took some non-flash pictures, and they were hard to see but turned out okay. The highlight was the Mona Lisa, but there were a lot of classic art there. From the Louvre, our bus took us around Paris and saw some sights. We ended up at the Cathedral of Notre Dame, where we went to a service. I didn't understand the language, but I fell in love with the Catholic style. It was a very moving experience. We went to the Arch de Triumphe, and I almost got run over by cars, as I tried to get a picture. Folks didn't want to stop for pedestrians. We drove to the Museum of Modern Art and saw some Picassos. I was used to interpret the art for others in the group. Outside of the museum, there was a guy on roller skates dancing. There was also a nice view of the Eiffel Tower, and I took pictures of Sandra and Talula sitting on a wall. Unfortunately, we did not get to go to the tower itself. After the tour was over and got back to the hotel, the girls wanted to go shopping. We went by a perfume store. Sandra said that Paco Rabanne turned her on, so naturally I bought a bottle. We got back to the hotel. After dinner, I went for a walk. I walked along the Seine and ended up at the Tuilleries. It had gotten dark, and I was sitting near a fountain. I was alone, but noticed a guy getting closer to me. I started to walk away, and he began to follow me. I got the impression that he was going to rob me, so I began to run. He ran behind me. I lost him by running through traffic along four blocks before getting back to the hotel. I thought I was fluent in French, having had five years of French in school. That was until a man came up to me on the street. He started a conversation with me, and he was talking a mile a minute. The only thing I could pick out was that he was asking directions. My fluent French ego was crushed, when I had to tell him in French that I didn't know, I was an American. He patted me on the back and apologized. It turned out that the French I learned in school was the French they spoke on the Riviera, which was different that Parisian French. The language was basically the same, but there were different idioms. Our trip was winding down. Our last stop was coming up. A lot of experiences with more to come.

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