Paris Sunday

Our tour of Paris fell on a Sunday. What a difference a week had made. On Sunday, a week before, we were trying to handle the threats of terrorists. We had been whisked out of Jerusalem in the middle of the night. During that week, we had toured Germany (my homeland) and Switzerland. I had defended Sandra, and we had grown closer. I knew one of Sandra's favorite songs was "Love the One You're With", but it was more than that. Now, we were in Paris. Our first stop was the Louvre. We were told not to take pictures in there, but you know me. Thankfully, my flash didn't go off, like some folks' did. We were threatened, once again, with being kicked out, but we weren't. The Mona Lisa was beautiful, but my favorite painting was by Henri David on Liberty. Sorry, I don't know the actual title. Look it up. One thing that one has to be prepared about in Paris is the traffic. People drive like maniacs. We went over to the Arch de Triomphe and parked the bus. We had to cross six lanes of traffic without stop signs or traffic lights. It probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. Pedestrians do not have the right of way. It is every man or woman for themselves. We almost got hit many times over. It was like being in the inside of a pinball machine. I almost felt like some drivers were trying to hit us on purpose. So, we got our pictures and made it back to the bus, slightly battered emotionally. One highlight for me was visiting the Museum of Modern Art. Some tour members wanted me to interpret the paintings, especially by Picasso. I learned a valuable lesson that day. I can pretty much say anything, and people will believe me. That came in handy later in retail. We saw a guy dancing on roller skates there. We also took pictures on a ledge that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. Hitler had taken pictures at that same ledge some 30 years earlier. The disappointment came, when they told us that we weren't going to the Eiffel Tower. I don't remember what the reason was, but we didn't like it. We got back to the hotel and had a church service in the dining room. The girls and I went out shopping and found a store that sold perfumes. Of course, they sampled everything and had me do the same. I smelled like a poofter. Look it up. Sandra told me her favorite on me was Paco Rabanne pour Homme. It was a turn-on. That was good enough for me. We had dinner in the hotel that night and went to bed. Sunday in Paris. Filled with art and smells.