tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26179518466002986422024-03-21T21:18:59.448-04:00Pritha's In Paris!Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-31751028642563785652010-08-14T02:59:00.011-04:002010-08-14T07:23:48.077-04:00Paris, Je T'aime<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCjjYRlkLOs58p54RxfqG5bCFkaiWBCOpxf9XeG6EHPWL1ywSKwGz37L5eK7y_91eoR8NYqUeFivR8O90uxtfiQ6Uxm7-JI2824Qo9OHHzMl9EdNbTQpzdG-yaCUm2LHU22ZlvL7LLj67/s1600/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+008.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRCjjYRlkLOs58p54RxfqG5bCFkaiWBCOpxf9XeG6EHPWL1ywSKwGz37L5eK7y_91eoR8NYqUeFivR8O90uxtfiQ6Uxm7-JI2824Qo9OHHzMl9EdNbTQpzdG-yaCUm2LHU22ZlvL7LLj67/s320/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505224314987967106" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">My last post! I cannot believe it. As I sit here, eating chocolate for breakfast (<i>pain choco aux amandes</i>) I am saddened, thinking that this might be the last time that eating chocolate for breakfast is actually okay. Of course, you can do it in the States, but it's simply not half as classy (or half as well-made). Despite my initial wariness, and a really rocky first day here, and all the little bumps in the road along the way, I have been elated with my time here in Paris. Every day has brought something new, and exciting and marvelous. Paris is in my heart now, and it would take a seven nation army to keep me away for long.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, a quick spiel about my last few days here. I, of course, cannot sit still in Paris, when there's always something to be done and seen and explored. So even my last week was filled with activity. First, Thursday. </div><div><br /></div><div>During my lunch break, I had plans to go shopping for gifts for my boss back home (Rich Rein) and for my bosses here (one more than I had originally planned on having). So I took a stroll down Boulevard St. Germain, hoping to run into a fondue store I had gone to my second week here. Apparently I went in the wrong direction, because the road stretched on forever and ever and ever until I practically passed the Louvre. I was in unknown territory, but it was quite enjoyable seeing all the high-end shops and cafes that I had yet to see. There were people shopping, eating, chatting, the sun was shining, my mood was great, I had money to spend. Good stuff. </div><div><br /></div><div>I ran into an open market on the side of one of the streets and browsed the collection of handmade jewelry, cheap scarves, random crafts, and a very awesome soap stand. This little kiosk had a collection (a HUGE collection) of artisan soaps made in Marseilles, and you know how I can't resist things that smell good. I spent about fifteen minutes trying to decide which scented soaps to get my two bosses until finally the vendor chose for me. I believe she knows her soaps better than I do, I trusted her and paid for the two (only 6 Euros total!!) that she told me to buy. She even gave me gift wrappers! How nice. I wanted to grab three more for myself, but my suitcase is already heavy...sigh :-( </div><div><br /></div><div>I then turned around and walked back the way I came, meaning to go back to work. But, of course, I saw an artisan chocolatier and had to go in! So I did, talked to the man working there, and he picked out a small box of assorted chocolates and gift wrapped it for me! And then...he let me try a piece of any chocolate I wanted. I chose <i>chocolat au lait praline. </i>Real French chocolate. MM.. I'm going to miss free chocolate. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then I really did go back to work. But of course I peaced early (really, I'm so glad they weren't paying me) to go to Palais Garnier. Otherwise known as the Parisian Opera house. It closes at around 6 everyday, so I knew I would either have to go on a weekend or leave work early on a weekday, and well...my weekends were always full! </div><div><br /></div><div>In any case, this place is beautiful. I guided my self through all the floors, an exhibit honoring a former contralto (with some crazy lavish opera costumes), up and down the stairs, into the hall itself...and really, the building just screams nobility from every corner. Marble and velvet and huge framed photographs and columns and sculptures and gilded corridors and beautifully ancient chandeliers...so epic. One day, I will have a box at an opera house. So very <i>Age of Innocence. </i> Or <i>Anna Karenina.</i> </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCvn7NrhcYVcOQ39AlPAzQQU9OkkvIBhRqJd85kfq4a929_r2oqQ2EO_m8JNklYBHKVcQ_Z77n5t4TVrVML1Sfj_g0zw3jA4yocjgTuhyxftigAVrYrvIzT6sbIDz5EmExkj61DiYi-4P/s1600/Palais+Garnier+016.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCvn7NrhcYVcOQ39AlPAzQQU9OkkvIBhRqJd85kfq4a929_r2oqQ2EO_m8JNklYBHKVcQ_Z77n5t4TVrVML1Sfj_g0zw3jA4yocjgTuhyxftigAVrYrvIzT6sbIDz5EmExkj61DiYi-4P/s320/Palais+Garnier+016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505160266542485906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHl7yrp9pAN2B-GbfEmyOSzZXJk993xE7P0gZAiMmkYDpR-gvuw6R-1HptPUpzex4Qoz8ERZDjDaMXNkaMqrtej61Px_sjwaP3liaWb5r1_eTKaj_CI-tWffUqazuGeWps8ZNyaw-kbn2U/s1600/Palais+Garnier+051.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHl7yrp9pAN2B-GbfEmyOSzZXJk993xE7P0gZAiMmkYDpR-gvuw6R-1HptPUpzex4Qoz8ERZDjDaMXNkaMqrtej61Px_sjwaP3liaWb5r1_eTKaj_CI-tWffUqazuGeWps8ZNyaw-kbn2U/s320/Palais+Garnier+051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505160740349501570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>So that was that and I was back in the Foyer for dinner, and a ton of packing (most of which I got done, impressively) before I found my way to the terrace for Foyer smoothie time! Pamina had signed me and her up weeks ago when we found out there would be free smoothies. Our counselor, Lucile, had a ton of fruits in huge bowls set up around two tables (as well as a few bowls of M/Ms and a ton of brownies and <i>madeleines</i>) and a blender that didn't initially work. It was freezing outside, but none of us really cared. We just wanted some fruity goodness. </div><div><br /></div><div>So we each picked our own flavors, grabbed a few cups, went back for more and then Dorothee and I peaced to go take a walk (my last nighttime stroll... sigh) around the Marais and by Hotel de Ville and through Ile de la Cite, all the places I have come to love so much. It was a nice, long, relaxing (albeit chilly) walk on which we found a random fountain (they're everywhere!) and had some very nice conversation. I am, without a doubt, going to miss that girl. </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, on to Friday. The most eventful thing was that my co-intern, Rebecca, came back and the four of us went to lunch at a very high-end restaurant called L'Orangerie (which happened to be right next to where I live!!). We talked about the news, and the internship, and religion and food, and it was a very good meal. I got a main plate and a dessert, the former was the <i>poisson du jour, filet du noir </i>which is sea bass (I think?) with some really fabulous veggie puree and some kind of sauce that I would die for. The dessert was <i>figue et mirabelle </i>sorbet from Berthillon, served on some really nice China. Topped with a couple of berries and a leaf. Really, the French overdo it with the niceties. (They changed my silverware between the appetizer and the main dish even though I didn't eat an appetizer...) </div><div><br /></div><div>Beatrice (my original boss, the Princeton alum) also had gifts for us both, very thin and portable and beautifully wrapped. I later opened it to find a gorgeous light pink scarf (which I am now wearing). Other than that, the day was quite uneventful. I took a lot of pictures of everyday things so I could remember them. I went to the Louvre (for the fourth and final time) to see the rest of the Egypt exhibit and as much of the French sculptures as was possible. </div><div><br /></div><div>I then went out later for dinner with Pamina and Anne-Sophie (a French girl who lives in the Foyer) at my creperie, but we sat down and ordered. I, like an idiot, ordered <i>la Bretonne</i>, which is a crepe with honey, walnuts and rum that's lit on fire in front of you. The fire was cool. The rum, not so much. I have always hated alcohol, yet I keep convincing myself that one day I will like it. Nope, not true. So I let Anne-So finish the crepe. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then Pamina and I took a walk around Le Quartier Latin, past the Pantheon, around the Sorbonne, past all the cafes and then we ate at McDonald's. All we got were fries (and really good entertainment by way of the very drunk and noisy people all around us) but this was no ordinary McDonald's. No no no. You simply don't understand. This McDonald's was CLASSY. See pictures: </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLAxnaHSI5FGwv-FgloDek3HdApiRXo560lriCTEnxLB5k8hBuQfVN_g8XiZ4ACzfPZUlCK4uJUn3JXeqxxJzhunYwlHN3XPBaR5j4OXTMGIUJ_IOotif8P4bEssrEp6uq9z8QdDZyH43/s1600/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+060.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLAxnaHSI5FGwv-FgloDek3HdApiRXo560lriCTEnxLB5k8hBuQfVN_g8XiZ4ACzfPZUlCK4uJUn3JXeqxxJzhunYwlHN3XPBaR5j4OXTMGIUJ_IOotif8P4bEssrEp6uq9z8QdDZyH43/s320/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+060.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505222889866474114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgcJLE2JoN-FR1vihKvjS7hTjATAqk58pvqaMIKf3yM9oreKdFf54wlJnZvCBPTUvWH5cmdC9ufhvzJu5fGcog26dmaHTiPshXqaYlXVmZ6XLt4nKNu0TGhSFN4W7aXhZVXzwlGtzFLl00/s1600/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+066.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgcJLE2JoN-FR1vihKvjS7hTjATAqk58pvqaMIKf3yM9oreKdFf54wlJnZvCBPTUvWH5cmdC9ufhvzJu5fGcog26dmaHTiPshXqaYlXVmZ6XLt4nKNu0TGhSFN4W7aXhZVXzwlGtzFLl00/s320/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505224004629131266" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>And then we were cold (and tired of laughing so hard) so we called it a night and went back. On the menu for today: last touches on packing, a photography exhibit, perhaps a trip to the Luxembourg gardens, and then plane! Ahh. It went so, so fast. Sigh, life. <i>Paris, tu etais comme un reve.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTN73HABJE2WBM5hnDLLH9t0zpczUt70HnkzstlTleKjXblDPAdzx34q_wM-WULKsEpu-Kih-zv3vSUgX26RVdPIRCVFQV0-MmbDqHZ6uYU2yxrO69EpPnHUn0-UV13SJu5lRKlTT8RExw/s1600/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+050.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTN73HABJE2WBM5hnDLLH9t0zpczUt70HnkzstlTleKjXblDPAdzx34q_wM-WULKsEpu-Kih-zv3vSUgX26RVdPIRCVFQV0-MmbDqHZ6uYU2yxrO69EpPnHUn0-UV13SJu5lRKlTT8RExw/s320/Foyer+La+Vigie,+Isle+St+Louis,+Eglise+St.+Severin+050.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505224551714025426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></i></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-6535643386372265592010-08-12T04:03:00.010-04:002010-08-12T04:35:20.571-04:00The Home Stretch<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQUVgNkL8wZ7dTqbFVNJnSOy2yz7cR63kRKRZ4KPQGRbbPk-DAmxEdWCh3TZGeH8tfh_gHc8bF0qufYLcrzAKCCibpavJd2lYzOzvHtgM4cw2NDc9tgPK1X8iWMlmdC4hyphenhyphenx5jwGSnTaQn/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+042.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAQUVgNkL8wZ7dTqbFVNJnSOy2yz7cR63kRKRZ4KPQGRbbPk-DAmxEdWCh3TZGeH8tfh_gHc8bF0qufYLcrzAKCCibpavJd2lYzOzvHtgM4cw2NDc9tgPK1X8iWMlmdC4hyphenhyphenx5jwGSnTaQn/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504438901413732146" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Only three days left! How did I get here? I can't believe these six weeks have gone by so fast. Now that the days of this week are quickly speeding by, I find myself wanting to slow down time and give myself an extra week or two to continue to absorb the Parisian life, culture and history. There's too much here for six weeks to be enough time to do it justice. Sigh. Paris, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">tu vas me manquer.</span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Alright, on to this week. We'll start with the big one: Monday. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After work on Monday, I ran to the Foyer to put away my work things, grabbed an apple, and practically ran out to catch the metro to Concorde. I have no idea what Place de la Concorde is, besides a beautiful roundabout next to the Jardin des Tuileries, with two very impressive looking government buildings (I think, government buildings?) on two sides, and a pathway to the Champs Elysees on the last side. It also has two beautiful fountains a large Egyptian monument...thing. Ordered to be built by some King. To commemorate something. Yes, I know, I'm well informed. Google it. But, hey, it was beautiful! And the day was sunny! (Of course, I wasn't wearing my shades because it had been cloudy up until then. Great.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcBdefqsutRR3eI8kkc-b-v2-utAOdbUUaBfp8cjjCl2QzgCU9wwwPzQyijvYmx5d1DruBWbfA3sOcX28AwqEdOu_8E0B7pefwNUV4qLIi0_4bZWuiVsMpTFTTdHiDx5BFvYgrxIfGASA/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+007.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcBdefqsutRR3eI8kkc-b-v2-utAOdbUUaBfp8cjjCl2QzgCU9wwwPzQyijvYmx5d1DruBWbfA3sOcX28AwqEdOu_8E0B7pefwNUV4qLIi0_4bZWuiVsMpTFTTdHiDx5BFvYgrxIfGASA/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504431998901787682" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrfG_b0K5BZZ3C13srqfCxdQwDtez2sNcIVwGgnJUScLaCXgmLg7ATo6a70rsIhjp_o9hqcQ5Z-rCnu43KQmIGbus3qvdVIVqtOtRg9vUmpZBEMqXCCn55w0MBVRiV6-FQP7VcWnaQ8i2/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+020.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrfG_b0K5BZZ3C13srqfCxdQwDtez2sNcIVwGgnJUScLaCXgmLg7ATo6a70rsIhjp_o9hqcQ5Z-rCnu43KQmIGbus3qvdVIVqtOtRg9vUmpZBEMqXCCn55w0MBVRiV6-FQP7VcWnaQ8i2/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504432352644851250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 222px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After a bunch of more picture-taking, and an attempt to understand the inscription on the Concorde monument, as well as the Egyptian hieroglyphics, I started my walk towards the Champs Elysees. It was a nice, long promenade alongside a park (like everywhere in Paris) lined with nicely-pruned trees. A bunch of families were coming back with bags in their hands, finished with shopping and about to go have dinner, I guess. For me it was only the beginning. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Once I got on the Champs Elysees, I looked around for stores I wanted to visit as I walked towards the 3-story Haagen Daaz (it was hot and I needed ice cream). I got a mini cup of some peach, apricot, fruity sorbet with walnuts and almonds on top (I think). In any case, it was really tasty and took me just until I got to Louis Vuitton to finish it all. I had already planned on going to LV just to see what shopping in there was like, but when I got there I saw a LINE just to get in. Like the Eiffel Tower. Or the Louvre. I was shocked into amusement and decided that I had to go in. Also, I kept seeing people coming out with the designer shopping bags, and I wanted one just to say I had shopped there. I planned on spending a max of 60 Euros on a gift for either my father or my brother. Yeah. Funny. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It took me twenty minutes to get in and then I walked around, looking for something simple but classy. The first thing I saw was the cheapest: super ugly tiny wallets that each cost 107 Euros. That was the cheapest thing in the store. I would have run out right then if walking out without a bag didn't look so bad (they have guards, multiple, standing at the doors). So I continued my search for gifts upstairs. I asked a nice man, who walked me (WALKED ME) to the man who specialized, who hovered over me while I looked thoughtfully through their collection of *** (in case the recipient is reading this blog entry) choosing a color a style a design. It was incredibly intimidating. And this man looked painfully polite. As if he were speaking to me simply because someone was holding a gun to his head. Freakishly awkward. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I made my selection, he took my information (I had to fill out something oddly similar to an immigration card) and then walked my downstairs and asked me to wait while he put the gift in tissue paper, in a beautiful box and then added a gift receipt in an envelope and a receipt for me, all on designer paper. DESIGNER PAPER. Then he walked me to the door of the store, handed me the bag and then wished me a good evening. Most surreal experience of my life. NEVER going back to that store. Or anything that charges that much for anything. Ridiculous. There were teenage girls in that store shopping for handbags. How incredibly spoiled. Insane. I would never buy something that expensive for myself. Their bags must run upwards of 400 Euros, or 570 dollars. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I then, clutching my new gift bag like a paranoid bag lady, took a trip to the Arc de Triomphe. Sadly, entrance to one of the most famed historical monuments in the world cost me a fraction of a designer clothing article. Sigh this world. Anyway, the steps weren't half as tiring as people were making them out to be (people kept stopping to take breaks, weaklings!) and there was a mid-level (two I think) that had mini models of the arc and stone sculptures and historical videos playing, etc. Oh, and a gift shop. Can't forget that! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The view from the top was pretty incredible, though. You can walk around all four sides and see to all corners of Paris (most noticeable, Sacre Coeur which you can see from anywhere in Paris, and the Eiffel Tower, which is virtually inescapable). I can imagine it would be magical to be there at night, but I can't stay out that late. Curfew and all. Also, I'm a helpless little girl in Paris by myself. Must not deviate from the parental constraints. (Enough with the bitterness. I'll be back one day.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8c-r4JByqN7qgVbp0pZ0igsSTP_TTydY31KAMT_URNh9pakji1SyD4SZblRyAuEwij0mavPjl4A5SQBKAvNsROmXdlYrPAj4zqua8AdBRfaLcacMSZKQrzoeXei7dShbaP0WiizUeq9I/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+037.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp8c-r4JByqN7qgVbp0pZ0igsSTP_TTydY31KAMT_URNh9pakji1SyD4SZblRyAuEwij0mavPjl4A5SQBKAvNsROmXdlYrPAj4zqua8AdBRfaLcacMSZKQrzoeXei7dShbaP0WiizUeq9I/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504435692373766226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I would include more pictures but, as always, I'm running out of Blogger photo space. After my walk around the Arc de Triomphe terrace, I was done for the evening. Or so I thought. When I got on the Metro, instead of taking the Line 1 back to St Paul (very close to the foyer), I took it in the opposite direction, 17 stops away to the Grande Arche or La Defense, the business district of Paris. This place has crazy architecture and absolutely magnificent views. Here, see for yourself.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzGqK2edcIxPHTg7KCgRy7yY1yuLTqNCHhrIRX8Eycf_uM9Rnp0CcIM2icP3i3O6UrYwOjTBMbok22D-iNIUG6NqMEHeUFnX3Dec1JSAcL96-OH6rhddPdIC4KeyzbgBUdygubU-2sUPt/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+086.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvzGqK2edcIxPHTg7KCgRy7yY1yuLTqNCHhrIRX8Eycf_uM9Rnp0CcIM2icP3i3O6UrYwOjTBMbok22D-iNIUG6NqMEHeUFnX3Dec1JSAcL96-OH6rhddPdIC4KeyzbgBUdygubU-2sUPt/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504438579208872146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqL-JU0u6-kZuTo5y02Wfy0vmdqWOcJ5Q1i1D-tSChU-KXfo12VSZSfc5LVMldeXpemRiWPCJWiY0qcKSU_WS1_TLrWjdecJZ0DB-MCrkqwxBEQQLOF1g_yqoFoP9lTcamUH-sS7Ah9vX6/s1600/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+078.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqL-JU0u6-kZuTo5y02Wfy0vmdqWOcJ5Q1i1D-tSChU-KXfo12VSZSfc5LVMldeXpemRiWPCJWiY0qcKSU_WS1_TLrWjdecJZ0DB-MCrkqwxBEQQLOF1g_yqoFoP9lTcamUH-sS7Ah9vX6/s320/Concorde,+Arc+de+Triomphe,+La+Defense+078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504439037649002562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Spent a few minutes there, admiring and then peaced, still clutching my Louis Vuitton bag for dear life. And that really was my night. I had asked the Foyer to hold dinner for me, and they had: a tray with a small plate of salad, another of fruit, spaghetti, chicken, spinach, a dessert and a cup with a napkin and plastic utensils. So cute! It was a pretty good (filling) dinner. And that was my night.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tuesday I was exhausted all day and ended up staying in, listening to the rain, and watching a lot of TV. Last night, I went to my favorite crepe place (next to the mosquee, which was closed by the time we got there) with a friend who was celebrating her 21st, and then we had dinner at the Foyer anyway (we were hungry...) I worked a bit on actual work stuff (since I no longer concentrate on work when I'm at the office) and then went out for ice cream with another good friend of mine. We went to Amorino, an amazing Italian gelato place on the island that I had yet to visit. The ice cream was incredible. It was priced based on size, not based on flavors. So I got three flavors in a tiny cone and they put heaps of ice cream on (all sorbet, of course) and shaped the different flavors into a flower on top of the cone!! It was ridiculous. My friend took a picture but I don't have it on me, alas. It was amazing though. So so tasty and worth every penny. We also went to MyBerry to get my friend froyo, on my suggestion. I've already been there several times so I wanted to try something else. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We took our ice cream and took a walk through Island, across a few bridges, sat down by the Seine and talked to some random guy and his friends who were also chilling by the river, got up, continued our walk and conversation, and were back to the foyer a quarter past 11. I will definitely miss moments like this most of all. So relaxing and beautiful and refreshing to be in Paris in the evenings with your friends. Something everyone should do at least once in their lives. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And that brings me to today! I had breakfast with the ice cream friend (Dorothee, a German) and the woman who works breakfast (Mary Jo) gave us Nutella! Even though it wasn't Friday! I almost cried from joy. It was like an unexpected treat. Love those. And now I'm at work. Ignoring work. Using the free internet. Wee. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps one more entry before I leave, and then we're done! A plus tard!</span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-16899356522838671912010-08-11T03:30:00.008-04:002010-08-11T04:06:41.520-04:00The Gaufre Debacle<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJ7AWGKc4NfX330iyXHv_L-YDNEuTdtdC8HKWL-AX7i7Jue5yge4bVRsXABAoEZ9pzjyVA6obvZL6I3Syd9dvmhU6uwm4wp8B1uXfSBdWQnMlRbw6fAnlmwtRVkyb50Rmllg42dSY_s19/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+078.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqJ7AWGKc4NfX330iyXHv_L-YDNEuTdtdC8HKWL-AX7i7Jue5yge4bVRsXABAoEZ9pzjyVA6obvZL6I3Syd9dvmhU6uwm4wp8B1uXfSBdWQnMlRbw6fAnlmwtRVkyb50Rmllg42dSY_s19/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504060551809346146" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; ">Paris is cold. For a week and a half now, it has been cold and rainy and windy and gross. Disgusting. I thought this was supposed to be my summer vacation?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In any case, let's talk about Sunday and Monday! Sunday morning I grabbed the Metro with a Parisian friend, Edith, and an English friend, Jo, to Sacre Coeur, the church on a mountain that you can see from basically any peak in Paris. So, I'd already seen it from the Eiffel Tower and the Notre Dame when I went to Montmartre (the town that houses it) on Sunday. We got there before the noon mass, and already there were a ton of people sitting around on the steps, taking pictures and roaming around the souvenir shops that lined the cobblestoned streets. Despite this difficulty, we took pictures anyway as we climbed the hill of steps to get to the church. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM2Az1eagK4bJvw_aFLX6TwIMCf7yTbiAOMld9QQDlhUBznCQt7MkZNk35A4Ty1Ztm2biqMUOu-4uWx1OX-Cv1j1i64j-6nNz3Kstkfebb8-v4wR0EAwLkhRKR3IoAXmjvnKpL9Yy-Soz/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+003.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSM2Az1eagK4bJvw_aFLX6TwIMCf7yTbiAOMld9QQDlhUBznCQt7MkZNk35A4Ty1Ztm2biqMUOu-4uWx1OX-Cv1j1i64j-6nNz3Kstkfebb8-v4wR0EAwLkhRKR3IoAXmjvnKpL9Yy-Soz/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504052746573295586" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So we climbed all the way to the top, right in front of the Church, and got a magnificent view of Paris (this is basically at the top of mountain, after all). Unfortunately, I did not spend enough time admiring this crazy view as we were immediately pushing our way through the crowds of the church to get a spot for noon mass. Guess what? No noon mass. At least we heard the end of the 11am mass (I looove church choirs) and got to admire the interior of the church for a bit. The interior is absolutely breathtaking, but I think that's true of most churches in Paris. Or in Europe, for that matter. Unfortunately, no pictures of the interior. You'll just have to go yourselves! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxOGNIzU-iISfsha2x6Klsb_PvvgNuTl3SlEB8fHE82FDZ4yRlYXJVT4RPSigsGEqRSS5DuSkXYwGYHV3Ht4jUeXS99orWS-aby4_ZzZ8EFwKy1nQkQ6TPLnecZDx6PiLYsGnB4OBy7gt/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+009.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxOGNIzU-iISfsha2x6Klsb_PvvgNuTl3SlEB8fHE82FDZ4yRlYXJVT4RPSigsGEqRSS5DuSkXYwGYHV3Ht4jUeXS99orWS-aby4_ZzZ8EFwKy1nQkQ6TPLnecZDx6PiLYsGnB4OBy7gt/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504053762166373186" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We then took a little tour around the outside of the building, back to its gardens which are absolutely beautiful. It has several little nooks covered in ivy and shaded by trees, with little benches inside. It also has a pathway of rocks lined by trees that make a green awning. In addition, there's a mini waterfall at the center where a bunch of birds were nesting and twittering away. Very calming environment. We wanted to sit and have lunch there, but first we had to get food!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So we took a walk through the town of shops and cafes and lots and lots of local artists hawking their very cool art (I almost bought a 45 Euro pop-art square with a painting of the Eiffel Tower...absolutely magnificent), but we were hungry and there was no time to waste, so we kept going until we found something that we were satisfied with. I immediately, using my sixth sense of French pastry-scavenging, found the best creperie on the block (and there were many). I ordered </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">une crepe au beurre sucret et noisettes. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was pretty incredible. It was a humongous crepe with butter, sugar and walnuts and it took me a good twenty five minutes to eat. It was incredibly filling. So so good and worth every centime of the three euros I paid. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We found a park and sat down and ate for half an hour before continuing our walk through town, down some roads that Edith knew incredibly well (she had grown up there) until we got to the red light district of Paris. YES. So awesome. And guess what it houses? The Moulin Rouge. Crazy. I was so excited to get to see this, because I didn't think I would! I didn't realize it was such a short walk away from Montmartre. So of course, it was picture time. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLvsA-4m0dn72ja5dVWXQZkeQJXZ4cNVrMrnRgJv86rf_Ad2PfOFa9WwzSBIe6TCMW80HDMtMXXGSK9OFqNSYUb246SWVmC1Ak9VkpbZWSz2bw8FoOnwDZ-VHM70O2hxXTa-21UrwbOAI_/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+072.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLvsA-4m0dn72ja5dVWXQZkeQJXZ4cNVrMrnRgJv86rf_Ad2PfOFa9WwzSBIe6TCMW80HDMtMXXGSK9OFqNSYUb246SWVmC1Ak9VkpbZWSz2bw8FoOnwDZ-VHM70O2hxXTa-21UrwbOAI_/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504055363214346402" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So then we continued on a little walk through the district, marveling at the very interesting stores and cafes it houses...hm. We got on a bus (yay! finally on a bus!!) that took us magically straight to Isle St. Louis. And man, were we tired. But, you know me. always on the go! And I refused to waste the few hours that I had until 6pm (when I assumed I would be having dinner with two of my friends from the Foyer). So I grabbed some Berthillon ice cream (no longer worth the money, IMO) and hopped on the Metro to Chateau de Vincennes. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was about 4:15 at this point, which gave me about an hour and a half or so at the chateau. This was nothing like Versailles. Versailles is huge and lavish and very touristy, and has grounds that stretch forever. This has two courtyards, several buildings that you cannot go into, a chapel and a dungeon. But, honestly, it was even better than Versailles. Its authenticity basically screamed at you. Instead of being like castle from a little girl's fairy tale it was like a castle from the historical fiction books you read as a fourth-grader, fascinated by the Knight of the Round Table. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The chapel was pretty, of course, but nothing mind-boggling. It had an exposition about angels who are musicians, which showcased sculptures, paintings and musical instruments from the 1500s and before. Things they grabbed from the collections of kings and queens and royalty of the past. Pretty well done. A security guard randomly started conversing with me about what I'm doing in Paris and such. Nice enough man. Didn't follow me for the rest of my tour around the chapel, which was a pleasant surprise. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Then: the dungeon. So so cool. They housed the Marquis de Sade here, as well as other famous names who wrote letters and little memoirs during their stay. This place was incredibly well-maintained. (Also this whole castle belonged to Charles V, who lived in the keep that houses the dungeons) Every room was labeled with the purpose that it once served: study, music room, wardrobe, bathrooms, etc. It had bridges and tiny windows and concrete doors and all that jazz. It was so easy to see exactly how this could have been from the 1500s. It was like being transported to another time. In fact, they had a room in which they had placed black/white "barcode posters" on the walls. Using an electronic handheld pad, you could scan the 'barcodes" and see exactly how that section of the room looked when Charles V lived here. Hard to explain, but it was cool. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SFv5xgyKIhsGcjaRlRjw4ZscMuTIP__vmDLOyNXEY_9DY1lcOtUUCTEv9itwRpdt-bSAZoeIWXv6j7DbMCfN5tk1hshhA95SZsmy1STnqZ4UY_jndybuolPIgWdyzSlRnEyrS3AQQjS8/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+095.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0SFv5xgyKIhsGcjaRlRjw4ZscMuTIP__vmDLOyNXEY_9DY1lcOtUUCTEv9itwRpdt-bSAZoeIWXv6j7DbMCfN5tk1hshhA95SZsmy1STnqZ4UY_jndybuolPIgWdyzSlRnEyrS3AQQjS8/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+095.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504057994347843970" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I took a nice walk, up and down and up and down winding stairs as always, through the keep, seeing all the rooms marveling at how OLD everything was. So awesome. And then I took a nice stroll through the back courtyard, just to take pictures of the buildings that I could not get into and the whole grounds as a whole. It was a sunny/cloudy/not cold/not hot day, so just the perfect weather to enjoy something like this. And enjoy I did! Traveling alone has become my friend...well, not really. But you get the gist. It was nice.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41Rq7z1_yF3ZBOpxjuwyzUA2A9rejAz9B-m2KErFRstOvTwtkienxYbYXBhm4ksZu3e4rFoQsv1z_JInF7P6QMCvPZWcH5a7JMgWzzt1gOJj_fdHwEFcybEbimcHuqVzQhUQZ7WAsqt7G/s1600/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+111.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41Rq7z1_yF3ZBOpxjuwyzUA2A9rejAz9B-m2KErFRstOvTwtkienxYbYXBhm4ksZu3e4rFoQsv1z_JInF7P6QMCvPZWcH5a7JMgWzzt1gOJj_fdHwEFcybEbimcHuqVzQhUQZ7WAsqt7G/s320/Sacre+Coeur,+Montmartre,+Moulin+Rouge,+Chateau+de+Vincennes+111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504058308514961234" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I was back to the Foyer around 6pm, but lo and behold, one friend already had plans for dinner and the other was nowhere to be found. So I skipped dinner, cleaned my room and took a shower. I met Jo around 8pm in the reception and we went back to the Fete des Tuileries. I thought we'd walk around, grab some candy, etc. I didn't want candy though, just some food. But all the "real food" (and there isn't much at a carnival) was super expensive and not worth the line that we stood in for a few minutes. So I decided to have my first "gaufre" (aka waffle). I got a pretty gross-looking, unnecessarily large waffle with strawberry jam dumped on top. No fork, two napkins and a plate. Great. We walked through the gardens and found a bench to sit on while I ate this disgusting concoction. It wasn't even a good waffle. It was just a bunch of oil in the shape of a waffle with store-bought sugar-pumped jam. EWWW. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That wasn't very pleasant. What was pleasant? Afterwards, we took a walk through the gardens, past the Concorde, and towards the Champs Elysees. On the way, I found a crepe stand that sold me a crepe with ham and salt for 3 euros. And THAT, my friends, was real food. MMM delicious. It was getting dark then, but there were still a ton of people on the Champs Elysees, on top of the Arc de Triomphe, in one of the dozens of cafes that were still open, getting ice cream from the 3-story Haagen Daaz, doing some evening shopping. The lights were on and it was beautiful. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And that was pretty much it for my evening. I would write about Monday evening, but I actually have to start work at some point. And that point has come. A ce soir! </span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-26530057554764711582010-08-09T03:19:00.008-04:002010-08-09T04:00:46.513-04:00C'est pas gratuit pour tout le monde!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowbvxBNSLsXcOLrQRq-7rSdVObemf1Jr0beoiBGM2v_KXqkUoNIC6p_MhB-4k3Xi1Sc6opd5bJlhEiFPXLTg5C0-BNDcVcULKvi8jCo-zmebIKpbcz-W0EcK6K7FVfbJiVa7NtoKXVdeX/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+103.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowbvxBNSLsXcOLrQRq-7rSdVObemf1Jr0beoiBGM2v_KXqkUoNIC6p_MhB-4k3Xi1Sc6opd5bJlhEiFPXLTg5C0-BNDcVcULKvi8jCo-zmebIKpbcz-W0EcK6K7FVfbJiVa7NtoKXVdeX/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503316907252232050" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; ">Pritha is having a bad morning. So before I talk about my wonderful, long, tiring weekend, I will talk about my morning. Woke up and was incredibly tired. Got up, showered at was at breakfast by 7:30 as usual. Enjoyed breakfast (bread was good for once), talked to friends, etc. Planned on taking a pastry to the Jardin du Luxembourg every morning this week but I just went back up to my room and took a nap instead. Left for work around 9 and decided no pastry this morning, just work, then a baguette from my bakery during lunch break and some grocery shopping for lunch.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Got to the crossing where my bakery is situated. IT WAS CLOSED. My heart almost stopped. Okay, I know most of Paris is on vacation. There is no one in my office but me most days. The bakery next to where I live closed about a week ago. BUT MY BOULANGERIE?? WHERE I PLANNED TO GO TWICE A DAY THIS WEEK UNTIL I LEAVE???? WHERE I ALWAYS GET MY LUNCH BAGUETTES?? HOW WILL I LIVE??????? </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I'm a bit distraught. I almost started crying. Of course, when bakeries close, they direct you to the next nearest one (which is usually about ten feet away) so I went to the one across the street and bought a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">couronne de choquette. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was quite delicious. Almost ALMOST mitigates the pain I'm feeling from having lost my bakery. Sigh. Now if my creperie goes on vacation too, I'll really fall apart. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Enough about that. On to Friday. I peaced from work at about 430 (I was actually quite productive that day), got back to the Foyer, ate a demi baguette (from my bakery....tears tears), grabbed my things and grabbed the metro at 5:10. Despite the half hour train ride, I still managed to speed walk from Bir Hakeim (the closest metro the Eiffel Tower) to the tower in about ten minutes. Thank god for my speedy legs. I love overtaking people on the streets. They never know what's going on. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Anyway, I get to the Eiffel Tower and there's a line. For people with reservations...there is a line. Huh? Yeah, that's right. So it took me about half an hour just to get the top (elevator only, of course), but that was so worth it. The view is incredible. The ride is actually pretty magnificent. Kind of like the Tower of Terror, although if this elevator drops, nothing will save you. First you go up to the first level (which is already quite high) and then you keep going all the way to the top (which is quite, quite high). Takes a while because you have to wait in the line for the elevator each time, with all the hundreds of other people. Anyway, the magnificent view: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSip4fw3Nmyp1L_IJzcy2rCJcQO9aG8J9w6GRLqNdHmaFIjMSI59b6txdA72xlK2_GOxtKYtGCwDByzM_J84CcUKljd-984Gj6S8-kI1XinlLa6MqZxeUESyzYxDMDKGo-_ncjQH8jecmg/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+018.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSip4fw3Nmyp1L_IJzcy2rCJcQO9aG8J9w6GRLqNdHmaFIjMSI59b6txdA72xlK2_GOxtKYtGCwDByzM_J84CcUKljd-984Gj6S8-kI1XinlLa6MqZxeUESyzYxDMDKGo-_ncjQH8jecmg/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503310517093516338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 166px; height: 222px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJk2p0_UxxgJPb43_5z9BhMfNYODVI4vXYgIWJ3ZbLeTNAOltg4yn9QRQDth1i8mio6k5zLHDx2geYnWZTnljTkXiURU6b0K9V-8rdv0XRy1SwD03b2YYI965UJn8yXGbDW4zdaLlXscaI/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+039.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJk2p0_UxxgJPb43_5z9BhMfNYODVI4vXYgIWJ3ZbLeTNAOltg4yn9QRQDth1i8mio6k5zLHDx2geYnWZTnljTkXiURU6b0K9V-8rdv0XRy1SwD03b2YYI965UJn8yXGbDW4zdaLlXscaI/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503310679977054898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 166px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Well, enough about that tower. It took me another half an hour to get down, and even though I speed walked so fast I practically ran to the Metro, I was half an hour late for my 7:30pm rendezvous with my friend Jo at the Louvre. In any case, the Louvre is free on Fridays so I decided I might as well stay for the remaining 1.5 hours the museum is open. Checked out the Medieval Louvre (where they had doors that were my height!) and part of the Egypt exhibit. I didn't finish looking at everything, of course, so I'm going back. For the fourth time. Don't judge me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Saturday. I had to be at Gare St. Lazare for the Giverny Bike Tour (with the same company who conducted the Night Bike Tour) at 10am so I woke up at 6:30, did my laundry, had breakfast and left at around 9am. Got to the station half an hour early and prayed that I would find my tour guide (same one as before). Thankfully, everyone from the tour managed to congregate at the same spot and we introduced ourselves to Jackson and were off! 50-minute train ride. I sat with a New York couple who apparently bike A LOT. Interesting enough. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We got off at the Vernon station and walked to a shed nearby where our bikes were being stored. I, of course, as always, got the super tiny kid's mountain bike. I'm short and proud. We then rode the Vernon Market. Probably the biggest outdoor farmer's market I have ever seen. It had everything. Including clothing and shoes and underwear and jewelry. We had fifty minutes to shop for our picnic, during which time I bought berries, apricots, a peach, some meat casserole thing and (from possibly the classiest boulangerie I have ever seen) 4 </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">macarons </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">for 4 euros. Expensive, but possibly worth it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">With all our things on our bikes, we rode across a beautiful bridge to a park very close by and had our picnic. I met a lot of people, talked about school and my work and France, talked to Jackson the guide about France and India and we all shared our very good food. It rained, but only for 5 minutes, and then it was all well and good and we were off, once again, finally to Giverny! The bike ride was straight through a path for about twenty five minutes and it was extraordinary. Through a country side ,with small stone houses, overlooking mountains and hills. The day was cloudy, just the right temperature and it was very freeing to be so far from everything. Very enjoyable. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We reached Giverny and parked our bikes across a very cute pink hotel. (I would include a picture here but I'm running out of space on Picasa) We walked to the entrance of the Museum and Gardens and then were on our own for about 1.5 hours. So I explored, as always. Gardens, Water Lily Pond, the house, the workshop, everything. And it was beautiful. Exactly like Monet's paintings. The gardens are perfectly maintained, pruned and arranged. There are archways everywhere, a couple of chicken coops on the side, pathways carefully marked. Looks just like a painting. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjp7Awafr-8DObHpEd3r-a5tbQ99jVUbk7EmW2ItQnmAzHe6M2D2xUd2aWpDbMlOtefj2T5Ok8rNduZpyPrdY_eMZBjDd4MmzmTAdY88I8r34QaZ0-ydJ_JpYDZxM56QZG-iFstCVPyTa/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+091.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtjp7Awafr-8DObHpEd3r-a5tbQ99jVUbk7EmW2ItQnmAzHe6M2D2xUd2aWpDbMlOtefj2T5Ok8rNduZpyPrdY_eMZBjDd4MmzmTAdY88I8r34QaZ0-ydJ_JpYDZxM56QZG-iFstCVPyTa/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+091.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503313733210397650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 222px; height: 166px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The house is very cute. Almost everything in it is original and has been restored and perfectly preserved. There are paintings and photographs (prints and copies) everywhere, along with original furniture and the Japanese prints by which he was inspired for his own art. No pictures allowed inside the house, unfortunately, but the exterior was photogenic enough: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTtqziSkSMUgViJZZehcH9jY4VbVZIc2eCfsVyCYPSaSY_-UGbPvX0czf92QsCrDB-m3M-zhOsJVCYReRChxN765x2lRg1guR8g4FzxgjZIvOuludP490du7Rlzg4VMI38uIWfEhXuMby/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+102.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTtqziSkSMUgViJZZehcH9jY4VbVZIc2eCfsVyCYPSaSY_-UGbPvX0czf92QsCrDB-m3M-zhOsJVCYReRChxN765x2lRg1guR8g4FzxgjZIvOuludP490du7Rlzg4VMI38uIWfEhXuMby/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+102.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503314303722181538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">After the house, I continued through the gardens until I arrived at the tunnel that goes underground and comes up at the park with the water lily ponds (completely constructed and engineered by Monet, inspired by the Japanese). Here, there are little bridges and pathways and large bridges and archways and weeping willows and beautiful shrubbery, all pointing to the main attraction: the water lily pond, clear and shallow and gorgeous in the light. The whole effect of the landscape was impeccably created, right down to the empty kayaks waiting under the willows. Beautiful does not even do this place justice. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQ4yE1svizfRqM3X9WVh1kMyRnlJ21M3nYq-p79103m0nzrfNqKxISOrKFgwymOq-TEFCa-ClpiyKY2R2IFUB8wNBJMrYXheKBdRJSioJcyjk4a_i3trXTRKXwsap_LOF-dXvzurgxuRB/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+176.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYQ4yE1svizfRqM3X9WVh1kMyRnlJ21M3nYq-p79103m0nzrfNqKxISOrKFgwymOq-TEFCa-ClpiyKY2R2IFUB8wNBJMrYXheKBdRJSioJcyjk4a_i3trXTRKXwsap_LOF-dXvzurgxuRB/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+176.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503315068762012194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtNyyWwnbBhvyTj0-9J64YB2WkueXfIZRYmYjGqQfORgeLV2DOQX5GA0NhPqPCd8QpbWK_bzBj2OT19Jvq7_PuanrbnfWOvP9ux1rQjPUwjX3P1-vBF7aL8xQYKYxhd7FiWY3ROFYWiCI/s1600/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+207.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdtNyyWwnbBhvyTj0-9J64YB2WkueXfIZRYmYjGqQfORgeLV2DOQX5GA0NhPqPCd8QpbWK_bzBj2OT19Jvq7_PuanrbnfWOvP9ux1rQjPUwjX3P1-vBF7aL8xQYKYxhd7FiWY3ROFYWiCI/s320/Eiffel+Tower,+Louvre,+Giverny+207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503315302804960114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">After reveling in this magic, I saw Monet's workshop (now turned into a boutique of incredibly over-priced, unnecessary items) and then we all gathered again across the hotel where we parked our bikes. After a quick hunt for the missing Kiwi girls who had somehow passed the bikes and gotten themselves lost in Giverny, we were off. And then it was pouring. For our entire 25-minute bike ride back to Vernon, it was pouring pouring pouring rain. And did we stop? No. Did we get soaked? Yes. We were absolutely drenched and disgusting when we got back on the train. Thankfully, we dried off a bit during the train ride back to the station. Unfortunately, I was wearing jeans. And they were soaked. Also, mountain bikes do not have fenders to keep off the dirt. So I was dirty and soaked. Wonderful. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">In any case, I had a very nice chat with a Colorado college student here with her boyfriend on the way back to the train, and then a very nice conversation with an Englishwoman from LA about the movie industry, of which she is a part. She has been to the film festivals that I only dream of attending. She has a friend with an Oscar, for god's sakes! She gets preview screenings of the Best Picture nominees! Ahh. So cool. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">So after all this, I was very tired. Got a baguette and had some pate for dinner with yogurt. Borrowed "Crash" from the foyer DVD collection and watched it in English with French subtitles (borrowed a laptop from my friend who pointed out to my that my own did not have DVD playing capabilities). Left halfway during the movie to walk to my creperie, get an egg/ham/salt/pepper crepe for almost no money (sooo tasty) and then ate the crepe while watching the rest of the movie. Fabulous movie. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">I was super tired afterward so instead of going out, as planned, I crashed. Good, good day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">More on my weekend later!</span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-44451141538009178202010-08-06T04:06:00.009-04:002010-08-06T07:43:27.572-04:00Ici, on se partage le monde<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwoUT1WutaSktDMHScAKfuJ4teg8J-J789eRGLKUwnpPWLFx-Gw7YHKhzhyphenhyphen1uqZDe40zQCwIbGuysx7cdrjVBJ3azd0uElyUUcXKUUwBJpZA1ZtOeHMlh2XF2D5WXQ6oNG3sd2Vu1Xd2M/s1600/Paris+D%27Amour+001.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRwoUT1WutaSktDMHScAKfuJ4teg8J-J789eRGLKUwnpPWLFx-Gw7YHKhzhyphenhyphen1uqZDe40zQCwIbGuysx7cdrjVBJ3azd0uElyUUcXKUUwBJpZA1ZtOeHMlh2XF2D5WXQ6oNG3sd2Vu1Xd2M/s320/Paris+D%27Amour+001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502209578652480898" /></a>So I realize that I have fallen inexcusably behind in recounting all my days and all my stories. Unfortunately, I am out almost every night enjoying myself, and rarely have the time (or patience or energy) to blog about it, with pictures and everything (especially since blogger will no longer let me post pictures...sigh). So I've decided to recap the highlights of last week, the highlights of this week and then talk about the most important parts. Onwards. <div><br /></div><div><b>Last Week: </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b></b>Went to the <b><i>Jardin du Luxembourg</i></b>, went shopping for <b><i>secondhand books</i></b>, went to the <b><i>Musee D'Orsay</i></b>, saw the <b><i>Jardin des Plantes</i></b>, passed by the <b><i>Mosquee de Paris</i></b>, ate a ton of crepes, went for drinks at a nice bar, spent the day at an adventure park beating up my body, went back to the Louvre, explored the <b><i>Centre Pompidou</i></b>, ate more crepes, went to the <b><i>Fete des Tuileries</i></b>, rode the highest<b><i> ferris wheel</i></b> in France and got a <i><b>chawarma </b></i>in the Jewish district.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>This Week:</b></div><div><br /></div><div><b></b>Went <b><i>shopping </i></b>for myself, bought my <b><i>mom </i></b>a present, bought <b><i>Nathan's mom</i></b> a present, bought<b><i> Bbach's mom</i></b> a present, saw an <b><i>incredible exposition</i></b> at Hotel de Ville (where the mayor's office is located, and where he lives), bought <b><i>Sarah </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">a present, </span></b>saw <b><i>Victor Hugo's</i></b> old apartment, went to <b><i>Place des Vosges</i></b>, spent an <b><i>evening by the Seine</i></b> with friends playing games, took the metro to <b><i>Fauchon Paris</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> (a gourmet grocery store) and bought myself some gourmet hot chocolate and <i>pate </i>(french meat spread), </span></b>went back to the beautiful exposition, bought my <b><i>roommates </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">presents </span></b>and went to the <b><i>Paris Film Festival</i></b> on the Champs Elysees with girls from the Foyer. </div><div><br /></div><div>My favorite park of this week was, without a doubt, the exhibition that I've seen twice now (and will probably go back to before I leave). Called Paris D'Amour, it is a free exhibition of wedding photography taken by a professional French photographer in Paris. He captured moments during the wedding day, before the wedding, preparations, during the wedding, at the reception, moments that are symbolic and moments that you wouldn't think to capture. Almost all in black and white, and displayed on walls of red and black with really low lighting, interspersed with little quotes and anecdotes from couples and people in love and the like, it spoke to me. It moved me to tears several times. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbJBI_qSQSI66Lb1u3m8OmxSPldwSJ5pzV635NlhgdTJblLBMhbX3__Z0RUjdX7W_S1AYijI9EtlQ8GmqTvUl3H1hoWN-HyE8Av6sWhfqRfdSFT5NNt_ebk0hLRdoHmFgMI6W-7I3j880/s1600/Paris+D%27Amour+004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjbJBI_qSQSI66Lb1u3m8OmxSPldwSJ5pzV635NlhgdTJblLBMhbX3__Z0RUjdX7W_S1AYijI9EtlQ8GmqTvUl3H1hoWN-HyE8Av6sWhfqRfdSFT5NNt_ebk0hLRdoHmFgMI6W-7I3j880/s320/Paris+D%27Amour+004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502257290881749154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The pictures were absolutely magical. Moments you wouldn't even think to get on film. A bridge walking down a beautiful set of stairs. The groom's side trying to kidnap the bride. Two children kissing in the foreground while the husband and wife-to-be are photographed in the background. The hand of a bride with the word, "oui," written on it, reminding her what to say at the altar. The flower girl and ringbearer waiting patiently among the guests. Just some beautiful beautiful images. And what made it better were the non-traditional, quirky, quippy, sincere one-liners and anecdotes sprinkled throughout. So nice. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewxvP84HwLCBPxVPCmyucxmeUULwBVKlZIEGBUYyaK1at3SxLcd5c3h-IYGkVxlmZu3ki5HguguL4H1N5mSxyH9AdGbPf9SfmrubLSYoAJCeP41tI-KvM-ZzGY13zvL_uoMLKkv2UAvMs/s1600/Paris+D%27Amour+008.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewxvP84HwLCBPxVPCmyucxmeUULwBVKlZIEGBUYyaK1at3SxLcd5c3h-IYGkVxlmZu3ki5HguguL4H1N5mSxyH9AdGbPf9SfmrubLSYoAJCeP41tI-KvM-ZzGY13zvL_uoMLKkv2UAvMs/s320/Paris+D%27Amour+008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502257519796037570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUcF4cxTluhmfPtCL_rVzb0UQYZsbzmeGbMNnOPFs_SaWr72UT43_lPA0cUXsBc4bJ0b8pG5DAeYaR-EBu2Y7cLXHEap8ilJUIjQQWQ3M_VLdab1sqV0t87JKBNNqodgmN77mo37kDhke/s1600/Paris+D%27Amour+037.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXUcF4cxTluhmfPtCL_rVzb0UQYZsbzmeGbMNnOPFs_SaWr72UT43_lPA0cUXsBc4bJ0b8pG5DAeYaR-EBu2Y7cLXHEap8ilJUIjQQWQ3M_VLdab1sqV0t87JKBNNqodgmN77mo37kDhke/s320/Paris+D%27Amour+037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502259521609100818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>Some of the phrases also spoke not about love, but about Paris in general, another reason why I started tearing up. This is it, my last weekend, my last hurrah and then one more week of a tiny bit of tourism and a lot of time with friends, relaxing, and then I'm gone. And you know what? I really really love Paris. And will be heartbroken to leave it behind. It has been good to me. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; ">But I'm going to enjoy every moment I have left. Soak it up, breathe the Parisian air, live <i>la vie a la parisienne. (</i>also eat a ton of chocolate: this morning I had nutella with bread and a ton of gourmet hot chocolate for breakfast, then a crepe with nutella and coconut with a large hot chocolate for lunch. I thought I would explode and bleed chocolate). Tonight: going up the Eiffel Tower (finally!) and then back to the Louvre with a friend (third time!). </span></div><div><br /></div><div>A demain! </div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-56015085069315265142010-08-04T07:06:00.020-04:002010-08-05T03:49:17.989-04:00The Most Obnoxious Painting in the World<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv-rZeugHGrkAnnLeBgvM1oOhmhnxQvB_hxZ8EplohDOfnCqnomVWGZlnwRwqLN-zarfpZt0TZwxf_SGRXK4B2E0r5mb7JdiaODbTr_LGXLFNMPgKd7M035D2CNly9Zp5HlSTjcn7up0p/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+096.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv-rZeugHGrkAnnLeBgvM1oOhmhnxQvB_hxZ8EplohDOfnCqnomVWGZlnwRwqLN-zarfpZt0TZwxf_SGRXK4B2E0r5mb7JdiaODbTr_LGXLFNMPgKd7M035D2CNly9Zp5HlSTjcn7up0p/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+096.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501829606010839426" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay, so on to Sunday. I had plans to wake up super early and get to the Louvre at 7:30 (it was Free Museum Day, like every first of the month) so that I could avoid the huge crowd of tourists. Unfortunately, tired as I was from the crazy physical activity the day before, my body basically falling apart, I didn't wake up until after 8 and didn't get to the Louvre until 9. My body was aching all over. If you had seen me, you probably would have thought that I was in a terrible, terrible mood.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In any case, I got to the Louvre at 9 and, of course, there was a huge line of tourists stretching around the main pyramid, around the front courtyard, through the arches, into the back courtyard. Thankfully, it only took me half an hour to get in. (When I looked out the window at 11am, the line stretched all the way around the back courtyard. Hah.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So, the first thing I did, of course, was go see the Mona Lisa, to a) make sure I got that done with and didn't have to go back for it later and b) to avoid the crowds that were still pouring in. Of course, I went up several stairs and passed several halls of paintings, ignoring all the Italian art, before I got to the room specifically called "La Salle de la Jaconde," </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">La Jaconde </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">being the formal name of the Mona Lisa. And of course, there was a crowd. Snapping pictures. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlqnjGM91Y_DDnPALLxxdUmtle9iL2OELozHNoKngssDpHONVu042Ds9L0UhRaKyNt7XnJTHdqe0lZZlY8zlOIvBUuwjYsmPylphbzcLpdvQ0SDNnGM6vty-tiGIu998Uxx8ln6W2yO5w/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+030.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxlqnjGM91Y_DDnPALLxxdUmtle9iL2OELozHNoKngssDpHONVu042Ds9L0UhRaKyNt7XnJTHdqe0lZZlY8zlOIvBUuwjYsmPylphbzcLpdvQ0SDNnGM6vty-tiGIu998Uxx8ln6W2yO5w/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501522814612247698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That wasn't the surprising part. The actual Mona Lisa is incredibly obnoxious. It's a tiny, tiny painting, maybe 60% smaller than most of the other paintings in the Louvre, set in a glass showcase, towards the bottom end of a huge rectangular slab of wood in the center of the wood. Maybe five feet in front of the showcase is a semi-circular banister and maybe twenty feet out from that is black tape (the kind in airport waiting lines) on all three sides, marking the boundary for the crowd. So, the closest you can get to the painting is about thirty feet. Maybe a bit less. So incredibly obnoxious. Of course, I took a ton of pictures anyway.</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmYNWCF93KYmGfzAf9UcU9C4Y5PGV9gi5Mdy5Q-N54P3ok8hyeZ8jwj9qdU8ZSNIO6P-jHUxVh283jLiG8Y2pIX_XKRVZvMo9XfTU8RIFNB6FRXnh6qzRUWjzlBYNB_otlea2m0-TRHB9/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+035.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmYNWCF93KYmGfzAf9UcU9C4Y5PGV9gi5Mdy5Q-N54P3ok8hyeZ8jwj9qdU8ZSNIO6P-jHUxVh283jLiG8Y2pIX_XKRVZvMo9XfTU8RIFNB6FRXnh6qzRUWjzlBYNB_otlea2m0-TRHB9/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501523079730855362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So that was that. Afterwards, I went through all the Italian paintings, all the Spanish paintings, and even finished the French paintings that I had not seen the last time. It was difficult this time around to see everything, simply because there were so many people everywhere. Crazy tourists. I also wandered into some rooms that I did not intend to and saw some graphic art, sculpture and antiquities. My feet were dying with every step, my legs were aching, my arms were crying and my stomach was growling. But I forged on, determined to see as many paintings as I could. Oh, and this: (apparently it's famous..)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmorQq7pgMRNWoX2JxG4XldkU3KPcdDRva_HcuoxW05P9oyxowmBORUz_c0MtDxJM2KOXlmx69ZhD_vBEGgzZvgm2lFXg44cSLBhgx7PBN_PnUtt27vmIuCLlS7O3IRnvaFESklPvo7K7/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+037.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrmorQq7pgMRNWoX2JxG4XldkU3KPcdDRva_HcuoxW05P9oyxowmBORUz_c0MtDxJM2KOXlmx69ZhD_vBEGgzZvgm2lFXg44cSLBhgx7PBN_PnUtt27vmIuCLlS7O3IRnvaFESklPvo7K7/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501523805473444994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I also saw my favorite room in the Louvre, La Galerie d'Apollone (or some spelling variation of that). It had a bunch of silverware, cups, goblets, jewelry boxes and other antiquities from prominent French families throughout the ages. It also held the Crown of Charlemagne (created for Napoleon the 1st...I don't get it either) and the crown of some empress.. (yeah, I forgot, sorry). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HAHysQhH4JslvYIstnNFWZXwwW-oGeGDT1OSfpz4OUdWqdFyX-I2ipHCtvUo3-GQPmCQRS9ZBHs-8XKd9LdmgA85rXmiFevvVG_VHr0dWRezW46Yx1rlZ37EebOoOo-m5RT9Qo61ptE2/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+045.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HAHysQhH4JslvYIstnNFWZXwwW-oGeGDT1OSfpz4OUdWqdFyX-I2ipHCtvUo3-GQPmCQRS9ZBHs-8XKd9LdmgA85rXmiFevvVG_VHr0dWRezW46Yx1rlZ37EebOoOo-m5RT9Qo61ptE2/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501524471362088722" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZViwQxpwdLkcGn4S335KJ9jV9QkxZpjS5F6zQYGHgnHRTezx7go-2MXXOhh65hT0mosjtJX5MA3rYyksrtvKqUpx-8I62X3O6R1p9_9D25GfriEQhD7TpUEAlPWla3EaWrf6SOBdf4_nt/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+050.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZViwQxpwdLkcGn4S335KJ9jV9QkxZpjS5F6zQYGHgnHRTezx7go-2MXXOhh65hT0mosjtJX5MA3rYyksrtvKqUpx-8I62X3O6R1p9_9D25GfriEQhD7TpUEAlPWla3EaWrf6SOBdf4_nt/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+050.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501524625763808642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But the best part was the room itself. Beautiful. Paintings of prominent French mathematicians, kings, philosophers, lawyers, etc. adorned the walls which were otherwise painted and gilded. The ceiling was covered in netting because it is currently undergoing renovation, unfortunately. Still, the room is incredible. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_vLAl8iHfnNvutmrvqpwAVOV7OeWZ6ZDz5V6DyTTjN9qiUy55pfvR_Qg3zSdCav71up7Xm1jfDU8W1iYvCF-2I1wJ79H19sxR-VtsVqio9faw1WWCyCmOCbHaKdhdPQHv7oM0QX9TAQV/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+043.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_vLAl8iHfnNvutmrvqpwAVOV7OeWZ6ZDz5V6DyTTjN9qiUy55pfvR_Qg3zSdCav71up7Xm1jfDU8W1iYvCF-2I1wJ79H19sxR-VtsVqio9faw1WWCyCmOCbHaKdhdPQHv7oM0QX9TAQV/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501525473082863586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Also, basically all of the Louvre is beautiful. It should be an attraction in itself. Forget the amazing works of incredibly expensive art it contains within. It is, in itself, a work of art. So much I still haven't seen. Oh well. Future trips to Paris!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglZkH-R7a4oq0gDHN2AVLAv8SE4M9RJ4eFdodDj_EFZ4hkBIKcUfakFdlk7EJpxty9JX0YQrBdW8lnHpx75rIjtCamw3PVW0PLkbfY0l3XruuQ9GgXjdIhyJGmLNTILaqXL513RFZs6dx/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+063.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjglZkH-R7a4oq0gDHN2AVLAv8SE4M9RJ4eFdodDj_EFZ4hkBIKcUfakFdlk7EJpxty9JX0YQrBdW8lnHpx75rIjtCamw3PVW0PLkbfY0l3XruuQ9GgXjdIhyJGmLNTILaqXL513RFZs6dx/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501525809202727218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUdCN_c_I3TE7wr-PSo8fvo4ejPu15whh7iygxYD5xALrsbIM__V6wN3VPNSk5JX4D5vxs8DIsy5bSl04p9q9nQ7ixzKT7CPpdYVJAlOq4AKZW_yqMhSgHIuLMsyt2FDjnrp0whplU12U/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+066.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUdCN_c_I3TE7wr-PSo8fvo4ejPu15whh7iygxYD5xALrsbIM__V6wN3VPNSk5JX4D5vxs8DIsy5bSl04p9q9nQ7ixzKT7CPpdYVJAlOq4AKZW_yqMhSgHIuLMsyt2FDjnrp0whplU12U/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501526068710779874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay, so after the Louvre (in which I planned to spend three hours and only spent two and a half on account of my pained body), I decided to go in search of crepes. I (against my better judgment) went back to the crepe place where Maria had bought a crepe the night before (as she said it was delicious and well worth the higher tourist-induced prices) and bought myself a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">crepe au beurre et sucre</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. It was incredible. Delicious. The butter literally melted and fell out of the crepe...on to my dress. That was unfortunate. I had a butter stain on my dress the rest of the afternoon. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Well, on to Centre Pompidou. I magically managed to walk a good twenty minutes and find the place. I guess the big tip-off that I had found it was the fountain, surrounded by people, with large plastic sculptures in it. Yes, modern art indeed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I went around to the entrance, which is basically a huge ramp full of people selling cheap knick knacks, tourists chilling, residents chilling, and little kids running around. Centre Pompidou, in fact, is not so much a museum as a cultural center. It has galleries and expositions and a two-floor museum, but it also has shows, a library, a media center and a kid's workshop (and more, I believe). Very nice place to bring kids to. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-ecQ7XkR2TfP7sxULjsbDdPBrjv9ZF221KpeChfWtE8lG-neXcuE-C6aMMdQV5TWPD52E2GS7OPT6S64TGCPLQp6VkMb_6TKyW9Gl6agi_9pK6py5lSTTGNndBuWX6K4zM7nzXh6ImF7/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+081.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi-ecQ7XkR2TfP7sxULjsbDdPBrjv9ZF221KpeChfWtE8lG-neXcuE-C6aMMdQV5TWPD52E2GS7OPT6S64TGCPLQp6VkMb_6TKyW9Gl6agi_9pK6py5lSTTGNndBuWX6K4zM7nzXh6ImF7/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+081.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501527141456731058" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Again, worth the free trip. Also very interestingly constructed. Looks like an industrial building. except for the strangely-colored escalator that takes you up all (six? seven?) floors. Also looks unfinished. But the inside is quite cool, with its bright neon signs and futuristic architecture. Very carnival meets modern decor. Like a fun park for interior designers. So immediately, I start following the crowd up to the fifth floor, where they have their modern and contemporary art, 2-level museum. (Also, view from the top:) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBLFBqi5WuSskBqkzO6Od03g6JBRTQM_EdgdzIDH1D46POwEFnupgreOahv_99U4Byo3z2I7PvbN6QzNRGbgQ24262wVm4XArY73KhcWY6hH5JT1Qmf0pKaga_tyOn8P0AOdzaTpOoIQl/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+078.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBLFBqi5WuSskBqkzO6Od03g6JBRTQM_EdgdzIDH1D46POwEFnupgreOahv_99U4Byo3z2I7PvbN6QzNRGbgQ24262wVm4XArY73KhcWY6hH5JT1Qmf0pKaga_tyOn8P0AOdzaTpOoIQl/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501825183625059458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Walking around, looking at all the collections and women contemporary artists and French art from the mid- to late-1900s, I realized that, well...I don't really like contemporary art. The collection of elles@centrepompidou (the female contemporary artists) was a very angry, frightening, graphic and disturbing collection of silent films, films with background audio, photographs, torture devices, and other very strange things. Lots of anger and frustration and resentment from every corner. It was very strikingly displayed, with darkened rooms for the projections and little booths for viewing the videos (and there were warnings in several rooms that "certains oeuvres peuvent heurter la sensibilite du public" but it still really freaked me out. The only cool part was the furniture, where I saw a glass table on bicycle wheels. That was cool.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I did almost all of the contemporary art, and then moved on to the modern art, which I liked even less and so only skimmed through. Also, my body was still begging for some solace, so I decided (after only an hour of wandering) that I would skip the "Dreamlands" exposition that I wanted to see on the next floor, and simply walk home instead. I, of course, had no idea where I was but, like always, managed to find a main road and wander back to the Foyer. I have gotten really quite good at that. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So then I went back, showered, and took a nice, long nap before having a semi-dinner and leaving with Maria to go to the Fete des Tuileries, where we would finally board the Ferris Wheel of Paris. Of course, we passed by the Louvre and the arch in front of the Louvre, and the Jardin des Tuileries (which is absolutely beautiful, like every other park in Paris) and so took a ton of pictures. Like always. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJz9REkLIlkXvq-PmFs68Udu6PduZeTRw0fGnEP4McUx9VcTwAcFY83IRvS-CcIvjrbPvMcHoVoKjGJAag6xKmwUoP2efuhA8Du4DSTe56mtUQuVjZ7iyGVYZpJTohqECC5mCPlLV_R6b/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+082.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJz9REkLIlkXvq-PmFs68Udu6PduZeTRw0fGnEP4McUx9VcTwAcFY83IRvS-CcIvjrbPvMcHoVoKjGJAag6xKmwUoP2efuhA8Du4DSTe56mtUQuVjZ7iyGVYZpJTohqECC5mCPlLV_R6b/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501825656031342418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuCCbbGQnAyjlbf6AIKhnvwhGKj_Q67ocyzenX5FeSEs9Ij5hZK6d3Xq87xRX37AXjaefyRAHXHLMt20RiW4ftxPV4Nbvg5nonix8oR5eHo6BK2lsSm3eCTBsf74SRX5YdPJK4NwBLiSa/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+090.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuCCbbGQnAyjlbf6AIKhnvwhGKj_Q67ocyzenX5FeSEs9Ij5hZK6d3Xq87xRX37AXjaefyRAHXHLMt20RiW4ftxPV4Nbvg5nonix8oR5eHo6BK2lsSm3eCTBsf74SRX5YdPJK4NwBLiSa/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501826801389311986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We also took a moment to sit by the fountain in the garden (one of many fountains, actually) and eat chocolate waffles that we had bought at a cheap tobacco store the night before. MM.. delicious. They were actually pretty good, although we got chocolate all over our hands. I also saw a woman eating a candied apple (which I haven't had in YEARS) and asked her to direct me to where I could find them. She pointed to the carnival taking place (with carnival games, little rides, sugary candies, the works) right next to the Ferris Wheel. And then it was Ferris Wheel time. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was a ridiculous amount of money, but so worth it. We went around three times, super high and pretty slowly (with really cheesy dance music playing in the background) and got incredibly panoramic views of all of Paris. The lights were just coming on everywhere, but there was still light outside, and it was simply magical. So nice. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2Yp09VciosMVKVACujKZhb-MKEwGjY7XN4-DTNdGa5YObUu6sdIDkeDjOOlsrFotugrf0jPyUaL8SjP9DhruLDLGFwQ5ySOVEKnuo7NB5TwI-BKUInO2J4MHnJIIiIBWhSwkoUze6d30/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+114.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2Yp09VciosMVKVACujKZhb-MKEwGjY7XN4-DTNdGa5YObUu6sdIDkeDjOOlsrFotugrf0jPyUaL8SjP9DhruLDLGFwQ5ySOVEKnuo7NB5TwI-BKUInO2J4MHnJIIiIBWhSwkoUze6d30/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+114.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501827227372002018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAneYQGgCMGDZQyQDimqOMP_WT_hqa_cPoNh-Z8ceCpotzMTLT_3gF2TSJPYX_DoZs7Btth6Q6bTcorhl269gqlHCIilqLnbGCbXGQve45RrddzArrGiWDum7uiOEBjrA0jdkS6SOFUjB2/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+132.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAneYQGgCMGDZQyQDimqOMP_WT_hqa_cPoNh-Z8ceCpotzMTLT_3gF2TSJPYX_DoZs7Btth6Q6bTcorhl269gqlHCIilqLnbGCbXGQve45RrddzArrGiWDum7uiOEBjrA0jdkS6SOFUjB2/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+132.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501827392710777906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Afterwards, we took a little stroll through the carnival, laughing and smiling at all the lights and such (yes, cheesy, but it reminded me of the good old days when I could eat all that crap and not worry about gaining 30 pounds) and then took the metro the Marais (very close to where I live, and a historic, Jewish neighborhood). It was time to finally taste the famous Parisian falafels at L'As du Falafel (which always has a line, no matter what time of day or night). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was getting dark then, but we stood in line anyway and I ordered a chawarma (which I guess is like a falafel, but with turkey?). It was highly amusing seeing dark-skinned Middle Eastern chefs speaking to me in French (and in fact, I didn't understand him when he asked me if I wanted </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">sauce piquante</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, or hot sauce). After really quickly throwing a bunch of stuff into a pita, wrapping it, and getting me a couple of forks, he gave me the chawarma wrapped in tin foil and I just stared at the behemoth I was meant to eat. It was basically pita bread, filled with pieces of turkey (and maybe chicken?), some kind of yogurt, onions, lettuce and other vegetables and a bunch of other goodness (no hot sauce, unfortunately...). It took me a good while to eat, both with a fork and with my hands. I thought I was going to get it all over my clothes. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was quite filling, but also quite good. So that was Sunday (yes I'm falling really behind at this point). Hopefully I'll have a chance to write again, later today. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">*Also quick story about Saturday. I ran to the bakery next to the foyer Saturday morning to grab a demi-baguette for breakfast but only had 50 centimes, and it costs 55 centimes. So I told the baker that I would owe him 5 centimes and he said okay and let me go. Later that day, I got back late from the adventure park and was afraid the bakery would close so I grabbed five centimes and ran to the bakery (people were staring and laughing) and handed the woman and man standing outside 5 centimes (different man, but very nice, always says hi to me when I pass by). They both smiled, asked me if that was why I was running, took the money and then offered me a croissant. Free of charge. So I went inside and the man handed me a huge croissant. Where else can you do something like this? Nowhere. I love Paris. (Also, he then reminded me to breathe.) </span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-83963558427616521662010-08-03T02:48:00.009-04:002010-08-03T03:17:10.247-04:00Pritha, combien mesure-tu?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12dcW6Eu_1OoePAb1NrsfQLdNt8xQThCp02tJZyH150IJDoYvFzSwHtZRK2ExB6QKbdxOor3ugnFFikZaAOCizekDlU1yKf374Ur9EcxRxKqlpDFQKuenc183NV-R1QndgURS7MekqaZ3/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+029.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12dcW6Eu_1OoePAb1NrsfQLdNt8xQThCp02tJZyH150IJDoYvFzSwHtZRK2ExB6QKbdxOor3ugnFFikZaAOCizekDlU1yKf374Ur9EcxRxKqlpDFQKuenc183NV-R1QndgURS7MekqaZ3/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501079196791271858" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay, here it is: last Friday and Saturday. Let's start with Friday.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The morning on Fri held nothing interesting. Went to work as always (earlier than usual), was bored as always, came back to the Foyer for lunch yada yada. Started falling asleep at work around 3, like always, and so peaced early around 4:30 because I literally couldn't take it anymore. I decided to walk to the Jardin des Plantes and the Mosquee de Paris before going back to the Foyer, as both are really close to my work. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Went first to the Jardin des Plantes, which is incidentally in a pretty shady area of the city. Back streets and run-down buildings and all that jazz. The garden itself is huge and comprises several natural history museums. It's basically an ode to nature and evolution. There was a greenhouse that I wanted to see, but everything started closing when I wanted to go in. Fortunately, I was tired and didn't care that much about not being able to walk around and stare at things that I could probably find in the States. So I just took a quick stroll through the park and took pictures instead. (Also, parks really suck when you're by yourself. Just a tip.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gM-aeCvjpFD3kCzr6ikSP5TRvDLMPMsh0otJ6J69KPq13ycz4w4QhN5yOLaJF5FU2IrShljosxBKSbR9qOfCGEdYApzfQn3TYc1nAL36da7k_fF5VWmIarclbd4p0pQ_MMP561kiYgkX/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+002.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8gM-aeCvjpFD3kCzr6ikSP5TRvDLMPMsh0otJ6J69KPq13ycz4w4QhN5yOLaJF5FU2IrShljosxBKSbR9qOfCGEdYApzfQn3TYc1nAL36da7k_fF5VWmIarclbd4p0pQ_MMP561kiYgkX/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501073156741975650" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The place was quite pretty, and had nice "labyrinth" that you had to go through shrubs to get to. Also had a nice gazebo at the top, which served as some kind of a lookout. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOllN4mMzgUmzMP6JPrVtqNIcIWfenczeTvg2TlJ8Kkmd2AVQDjQ1qITS6tpqqi_NIJ8BWs-8-jfOndYRSVeXHgarm6CQjbsjnmTi3XCjZ1uxDP1qVmLwEdZgD1RedmXA6Dh2R7ocUiL6j/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+007.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOllN4mMzgUmzMP6JPrVtqNIcIWfenczeTvg2TlJ8Kkmd2AVQDjQ1qITS6tpqqi_NIJ8BWs-8-jfOndYRSVeXHgarm6CQjbsjnmTi3XCjZ1uxDP1qVmLwEdZgD1RedmXA6Dh2R7ocUiL6j/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501073464363820978" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And, like I said, impressive-looking buildings (like all of Paris) that were actually museums (that were closed). </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVbJUCVZ4dpDjLgEqbzj7Jc5M2S6oie1vs48tGr23_6_25y02MtP2_IlLCKTpI93NBXG8MCqev0BXLpsVGjhOfegPkfMPOIbb-kcGG4k2Akk-6FtZqcsXMBIu8lGMHGzNeHchqmCiPcfK/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+013.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVbJUCVZ4dpDjLgEqbzj7Jc5M2S6oie1vs48tGr23_6_25y02MtP2_IlLCKTpI93NBXG8MCqev0BXLpsVGjhOfegPkfMPOIbb-kcGG4k2Akk-6FtZqcsXMBIu8lGMHGzNeHchqmCiPcfK/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501073761109654338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay, onwards. I then got lost for a while trying to find the Mosquee, but when I finally did, it was unmistakable what the building was. Beautiful architecture, and definitely unlike anything else I had seen in Paris. This place is impossible to miss.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuBxaFbMBpeAI1wEhksPlkxtGtEFFVFWhhEDUG6oAQjhJNEA1SFeibddhKmJk-wiItWLB1VmcDOWiDPLMUh-w0a7iBw8-uGJtirHIccQridWV2dN1R995025ciDPUgtoseGcspfSBlkpd/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+017.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKuBxaFbMBpeAI1wEhksPlkxtGtEFFVFWhhEDUG6oAQjhJNEA1SFeibddhKmJk-wiItWLB1VmcDOWiDPLMUh-w0a7iBw8-uGJtirHIccQridWV2dN1R995025ciDPUgtoseGcspfSBlkpd/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501074276654375026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I went in through what looked like the main entrance only to find an Islamic restaurant. Not what I wanted. I then asked a man, who told me the main entrance was on the right. So I went out and walked around the entire building until finally I came to the main entrance, only to learn that...the place was open EVERY DAY BUT FRIDAY. Sigh. At least I got some pictures.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0qc_DoDUah6vxqezorCF9C3HFA3Xz4fvK2p6KQ4BYMMvNe51YMgoLe85cKekbsMby2mAsv9AoFf9kiwPrF1nai-xlTI4a9UhfjbdbtO9sBzkccIycDt_iqMKmBr-P2dDXqkALFOX_N8h/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+019.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0qc_DoDUah6vxqezorCF9C3HFA3Xz4fvK2p6KQ4BYMMvNe51YMgoLe85cKekbsMby2mAsv9AoFf9kiwPrF1nai-xlTI4a9UhfjbdbtO9sBzkccIycDt_iqMKmBr-P2dDXqkALFOX_N8h/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501074548463869938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Disheartened, I thought I'd get myself a crepe, as I was really craving one. On my way back to the Foyer, I passed by a cute little cafe called Le Cactus that seemed to be open, as the doors were open and music was playing inside. The crepe menu looked pretty reasonable and delicious, so I went inside and waited for a few minutes. Seeing no one, I turned to leave but a man came out of nowhere and greeted me. So I turned back, surprised, and ordered a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">crepe au caramel beurre sale</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. He went off to make it and another random man popped out of a door that was apparently on the side of the bar...very strange. It was pretty much me, this second bartender, and the bartender's sometimes-friend chilling in the cafe. I waited a good while and was starting to get upset when the first man came back out, walked straight to me, and handed me a humongous crepe, wrapped in tin foil, wrapped in several green napkins. It looked beautiful. I stammered, not knowing how to respond and paid him. Then I tried to figure out how to carry/hold this gigantic, dripping crepe. I somehow stumbled out the door as he bid me a fond farewell, and worked very hard to keep the dripping caramel off of my iPod. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I did, but did not keep it off my shirt. Whatever. So worth it. This was the crepe of my life. Incredible. Huge, tasty, well-made, perfect. I vowed to go back. So I went back to the Foyer and told my friend Pamina about my wonderful crepe-y day and told her that we needed to go back that night. We did, after dinner, but by then it had turned into a slightly-shade, completely-dark, men-only bar. Alas, no crepe for Pamina. (She then got a crepe from another random street stand with an Indian chef who tried to converse with me in Hindi. That crepe was nowhere near as good, though.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But Pamina and I continued on our nighttime stroll through the 5th, looking at all the restaurants and cafes filled with tourists until we found a brasserie we liked on a side street. We sat down in a supercomfortable booth, ordered drinks, and enjoyed the fabulous live music that was playing right next to us. There was a gorgeous French woman singing popular American songs and a white French guitar player, who rapped the Kanye part of "American Boy" in French...awesome stuff. Once it hit 11:30 though, we decided it was time to head back, but I got another crepe (don't judge) and we took our time walking back to our residence. Another fabulous night in Paris. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Saturday. The day of accrobranche. This was basically an adventure/ropes course with wooden bridges, cables that you have to walk across, trees to climb, about an hour from Paris. There were seven of us going with the counselor so we had breakfast together, got all our stuff together (I woke up poor Maria, desperately seeking sneakers) and headed off to the Metro carrying boxes of picnic food. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Once at the park, we were all instructed to sign waivers (yeah, it was serious), put on our restricting protective gear that would hook us to cables/trees/ladders and ensure our safety at all times, had a quick safety and instructional lesson from poor Bruno (a young man harassed by all the girls in our group) and then went off to choose our courses. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A couple of my friends and I decided the red course (second-to-hardest) would be the best to start off with. I was fearless. I told myself, you can do it, Pritha. No, no I could not. The first station itself was a rope bridge held up by two cables, and you had to step on thin wooden logs and stretch your legs from one log to the next to get across. The logs moved when you stepped on them, so you also had to balance. Not fun. Not fun at all. I did another bridge, a zip line, a square rope ladder, another zip line. Until I got to Tarzan. A girl before had jumped onto the Tarzan-style rope and had not managed to swing across and grab the rope ladder in front of her (as required) and was now just swinging there, freaking out, going out of her mind with fear. So, of course, I decided it was time to throw in the towel. Stressed, Bruno had to come tell me how to jump onto the rope as necessary and then slowly lowered me down. Phew. Scary stuff. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A bunch of girls finished the red course and went on to the black one (which was really not funny at all. It was deadly). They clearly did not finish the black, although they got astonishingly far. Me, I decided to do the green course and then the really long zipline (which wasn't scary at all) and then eat and walk around. We all picniced together before the other girls decided they had enough energy to keep going. I, alas, definitely did not. So I chilled and followed those on the black course, thanking God I had not decided to follow them. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We came back around 6, our bodies aching and our souls weary, but with a lot of new friendships formed and bonds made. We all were wondering whether or not to keep our respective plans for the night. Most of us did not want to. Some of us went straight to sleep. I showered and went out with my friend Maria to picnic on the Pont des Arts and do the largest ferris wheel in Paris. Never happened. I started feeling awful when we were almost there and we turned back and went home. We did take pictures, however. (Of course.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFBM624f4Ss2_TTZjabRsyXKi3tEP9mZmvU_rZ7VY1LoaUTdNLnaySwBXf80f4YS5_lUHoJ5sTQ5nJ5EksjBHRFSBmRCnX4kMRmsZOJ4r1LDqjJXEJMqMDZqwRQg1h8NVlW7UstOFXJ1W/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+023.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFBM624f4Ss2_TTZjabRsyXKi3tEP9mZmvU_rZ7VY1LoaUTdNLnaySwBXf80f4YS5_lUHoJ5sTQ5nJ5EksjBHRFSBmRCnX4kMRmsZOJ4r1LDqjJXEJMqMDZqwRQg1h8NVlW7UstOFXJ1W/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501078397134270690" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After I took a little rest in my room, Maria and I went out again. I got some incredible plain yogurt with mangos from MyBerry and then we walked to Notre Dame to watch all the street performers contact juggle and play with fire. I started freezing soon, though, so we didn't stay out too long and went back, vowing to do the ferris wheel the next day. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp2ymOLTPf4C7iQGUnesT5D4rlZk8clPFA3_aqrnbUXaGQS3fofj2f1wlvK4DVuEMWAUR1Hu07SIno8AhoDkUJpUyKyFtEwGyHlXSvHm0lHU7GcQ6bZxAkmq9UxdkHihw6c341dEgxlV3/s1600/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp2ymOLTPf4C7iQGUnesT5D4rlZk8clPFA3_aqrnbUXaGQS3fofj2f1wlvK4DVuEMWAUR1Hu07SIno8AhoDkUJpUyKyFtEwGyHlXSvHm0lHU7GcQ6bZxAkmq9UxdkHihw6c341dEgxlV3/s320/Jardin+des+Plantes,+Mosquee,+Tuileries,+La+Roue+028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501078860002174146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">More to come!</span></span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-90890784574936387452010-08-01T17:02:00.016-04:002010-08-01T17:58:06.091-04:00Paris In Shades of Gray<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzOFbzZE2-E7xZG0K_FyULjaI0rttGdLJATJgEAYbqETW0LodYUPo4cubVqpsI7NMfr-ePFY1fIbFasH6aXOXiz-1X-vILsEfwaXUXwnnlRe7zEk52ubFFJ1L9SR4VF7DbdoD0ZqK9BVQ/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzOFbzZE2-E7xZG0K_FyULjaI0rttGdLJATJgEAYbqETW0LodYUPo4cubVqpsI7NMfr-ePFY1fIbFasH6aXOXiz-1X-vILsEfwaXUXwnnlRe7zEk52ubFFJ1L9SR4VF7DbdoD0ZqK9BVQ/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500563965273321426" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay, so this post will comprise last Wednesday and Thursday. And then perhaps tomorrow I will write about last Friday and then at some point I will write about the weekend. I am seriously falling behind, but will remedy this as soon as possible. I'm busy, you see. Busy having fun! Woot.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Okay so last Wednesday night after work, I came back to the Foyer and got ready to go to dinner with Akash uncle, my dad's friend who also invited me over to his place for Spain-Germany semi. I met him at La Defense, which is basically as far west in Paris as you can go. I initially got off at the wrong metro, sent several confused text messages, got back on the metro and then finally found him inside the huge train station that is La Defense (Grande Arche).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The station itself is basically a huge shopping mall. Upon exiting, you enter into a huge courtyard of large business buildings, shopping malls, a cinema. And of course, this being Paris, all the beautiful business buildings surround a garden with a fountain and you have a straight path to the Champs Elysees and L'Arc de Triomphe. One of the business buildings is built like a picture frame (quite literally) which frames L'Arc de Triomphe if viewed from far away. It's extraordinary. Unfortunately, I did not take my camera that day. Oh well. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So then we took the Metro to some random place closer to the center of Paris and walked to a Spicy Asian cuisine restaurant that he and his family frequent. Surprisingly, it was filled with French people as opposed to tourists. The food was just delicious. Thankfully, he ordered for both of us, and got plates that were very tasty and only the absolute perfect amount of spicy (not too much, not little). We had some kind of cooked cabbage, a mushroom entree, and a main plate of fish in some kind of spicy sauce. Yes, my descriptions are fabulous. In any case, it was amazing. We talked about traveling and school and Paris and all that. He told me that I need to come back and experience Paris </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">sans touristes </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">because all the real Parisians are around then, and the atmosphere is absolutely changed. Maybe I will. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After dinner, we went our separate ways and that was that. Now on to Thursday. I had already decided beforehand that I wanted to leave the Foyer early and see if I could get a bit of early morning shopping done (I needed to hit the Body Shop for some shampoo and body wash..I hear it's cheaper here, really!!) and walk to the Jardin du Luxembourg. I set out a bit before nine (eating only a tiny bit of breakfast, as the bread was terrible that morning) and began my walk toward Bld. St Michel. Found the Body Shop easily but it turns out it only opens at 10:30. So I decided to grab a delicious </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">viennoise au chocolat </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">at the nearest patisserie and walk to the Jardin du Luxembourg.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljMAzq6IRKhhre4vJpNJUProv8Q5_wXjR-83sP9XGita1MhsACoQHN2agSJpoPWeU6msZ-EH_brRNg7isTglKNGGwomdmg3joIwosbnHNr11YsI2690j8to0aKfm004dle3PfVzHQt3ow/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjljMAzq6IRKhhre4vJpNJUProv8Q5_wXjR-83sP9XGita1MhsACoQHN2agSJpoPWeU6msZ-EH_brRNg7isTglKNGGwomdmg3joIwosbnHNr11YsI2690j8to0aKfm004dle3PfVzHQt3ow/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500555493082146834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Wow. Was this place gorgeous. It was early yet, so it was quiet, calm, serene. A few people running, some people running, a couple with their grandchildren. Untouched practically. So, I sat down on a bench, enjoyed my very chocolaty pastry and watched the scenery. And then of course I took pictures. Paris is basically a city of photo ops. It's difficult to walk four steps without wanting to take a picture.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-_gYqdtAEoWh6IQYWUpMhyphenhyphenVLLNUi2oWqLpgkDqXEdCKjal69zwWCXZ0Dlx-fw-7eWgLGSsriyT3iFVwpb5mtYc17gEz2MdQl_D63eHMhSED0GgOjDpPZtRBaPwyMGIZhRwkVc9Fyg_dT/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+006.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh-_gYqdtAEoWh6IQYWUpMhyphenhyphenVLLNUi2oWqLpgkDqXEdCKjal69zwWCXZ0Dlx-fw-7eWgLGSsriyT3iFVwpb5mtYc17gEz2MdQl_D63eHMhSED0GgOjDpPZtRBaPwyMGIZhRwkVc9Fyg_dT/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500556501862518434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I took a few pictures, asked the grandparents to take a few pictures of me (soo nice!! the man took it from several directions and one even included a duck!) and then asked a nice resting runner to take another (he had a bit of trouble and had to try several times before he figured out how the camera worked...). At that point, the sun was shining brightly and it was time for me to get to work. (Also the building is the Palais du Luxembourg, right next to the gardens. No, I don't know what it does. Look it up.) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqE3Qq-U0moyFIq8T0TmQ66BQNNqVjzfthLnlpQ0-4_6xZ_cUeBrI7JNVRrjJ7s_3E5HHo6bX_KSL5IRARYFV2u-MfwU7KGU-tPBIDd4ej0Wj7GRH8xs3DgX6OfLlnU4BxduRTn_S_raQ/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+016.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqE3Qq-U0moyFIq8T0TmQ66BQNNqVjzfthLnlpQ0-4_6xZ_cUeBrI7JNVRrjJ7s_3E5HHo6bX_KSL5IRARYFV2u-MfwU7KGU-tPBIDd4ej0Wj7GRH8xs3DgX6OfLlnU4BxduRTn_S_raQ/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500556979249192050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">During lunchtime, I made the most of my two hours and went out to do some shopping. I grabbed a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">demi-baguette </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">for an on-the-go lunch from my favorite bakery (they really must know me by now) and ate it on the way to the Body Shop. I spent literally an hour there trying to decide what to buy, looking for the best deals, weighing what I wanted versus what I needed versus what I was willing to pay for. At one point, I was the only one in the store and I am positive the saleswomen were giving me looks. Finally, I bought a pack of body wash/shampoo for a really good deal and peaced. I thought the cashier would kill me with her death glare. Whatever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I started on my way back to work, thinking I would stop at the Monoprix for some other necessary items, when I ran across a crazy book sale. A secondhand book/DVD/music store had tons of books displayed outside for 20 centimes. So of course, I looked through them but, as to be expected, they were all pretty ridiculous titles. So I went inside the store and looked there. I wanted to buy it all! They had a ton of English language books that I wanted and then so many French classics, all for 8 Euros! I got some Moliere plays, a Maupassant book, a Voltaire book, and the original Thank You For Smoking. Very excited to read them all. Don't know what I'm going to do about fitting them into my carry-on/suitcase. Oh well. Totally worth it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At this point, I was pushing my break, so I speed-walked (Lord knows I am an expert speed-walker) back to work with my bags. After work that day, it was time to go the Musee D'Orsay as it is open late on Thursdays. I took the metro and took an awesome connecting bridge (very strange bridge, industrial-looking, with flat steps that turn into steeper steps, and are made of metal rungs as opposed to concrete...interesting. anyway) to a main street. I had no idea what the Musee looked like, so I was lost for a few seconds until I followed a group of people to a building that looked kind of like a museum (but don't all buildings in Paris, really?). I saw a big poster outside that said "MO" which I assumed meant Musee d'Orsay. I went on, got my ticket and then decided to spring for a guided visit. This was my first guided visit in Paris and I figured I was going to need to do one eventually. I also wanted a quick overview of the museum and this was only supposed to be 1.5 hours long. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOlB8TPnEJ8_U_uAPolaO5T9xpdTCNVZX_AXh1YzVb8TI2lVrJeZA5xPyTtSTH0r-D1AfZN0_Ji9bC-GIgYFjE6bsSzpO01YGDIvOM1F91UL-QF6zVFQwfToHb3G140VOc0H7u4TXKxyo/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+023.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOlB8TPnEJ8_U_uAPolaO5T9xpdTCNVZX_AXh1YzVb8TI2lVrJeZA5xPyTtSTH0r-D1AfZN0_Ji9bC-GIgYFjE6bsSzpO01YGDIvOM1F91UL-QF6zVFQwfToHb3G140VOc0H7u4TXKxyo/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500560216766470850" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Big mistake. I learned a ton about the painters and works we discussed, but we only saw four (maybe five). And then I had about an hour to see the rest of what I wanted to see. I did see a good number of things though. Degas sculptures of dancers, Manet's controversial art, Ingres, Delacroix, Rodin sculptures, Van Gogh's awkward childlike (really, they are) way of painting) and my personal favorite: Monet. Wow. I decided right then and there that I had to go to Giverny, where Monet lived and the subject of his breathtaking landscapes. The place looks like heaven. Can't wait to see it with my own two eyes.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TFK_kDfGBQtTD1t4Q3YZsIpZYZnqMKypRsEKHK-oiGIlppAvAmqGHxCDfeXBmcEm7YxZ-E9mHNva8pw8Waus71zAiEwSYjhlTmlRMOvum_hmJXNN1DuQJ_bhk8fY3DPibUx-mqKLMQ6U/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+026.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_TFK_kDfGBQtTD1t4Q3YZsIpZYZnqMKypRsEKHK-oiGIlppAvAmqGHxCDfeXBmcEm7YxZ-E9mHNva8pw8Waus71zAiEwSYjhlTmlRMOvum_hmJXNN1DuQJ_bhk8fY3DPibUx-mqKLMQ6U/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500560897292723410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After the tour, I went through some of the paintings I wanted to see, some more Monet, the Van Gogh, a ton of Renoir and then a collection of photographs on the second floor, displayed in special exposition. This was, of course, my favorite part. I'm a sucker for good photography. Love it. And then, I was hungry and sick of paintings and decided to peace. (These are random people painting outside the museum...) </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJIj-5sUJeIINSjIPq54LwPw4JDcDNiHKnNFkBwi349DQ84czL3JUfH678O15WEZpzrLHP571Vq8qtaZg4TPYMa6WJeobciGOqVRI-MN4h7tpddmdXLnRjg24dzE-7JaUJEQkAU3EnlAz/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+027.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJIj-5sUJeIINSjIPq54LwPw4JDcDNiHKnNFkBwi349DQ84czL3JUfH678O15WEZpzrLHP571Vq8qtaZg4TPYMa6WJeobciGOqVRI-MN4h7tpddmdXLnRjg24dzE-7JaUJEQkAU3EnlAz/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500562866794412082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I got on the nearest bus and tried to use a ticket. The bus driver took it playfully, then handed it back in jest, informing me that the bus was only a shuttle and that it was free. Stupid me. He shuttled all of the other tourists and myself to the nearest metro, which happened to be another perfect photo op. Really, what is wrong with Paris? The metros provide photo ops???</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXipJZoCBZ3WGamXqRIoviY3XstOlSyFY4T6bn_gOMhJG5WSYEevh4dwMiAL2AW0D5xHT-4Fr7WK0orWEeaFI9K4IWdIZmNVouJFDHqdjF3PvY61N53eS8C91Ay3IEdwQIIFirkUiYJSDU/s1600/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXipJZoCBZ3WGamXqRIoviY3XstOlSyFY4T6bn_gOMhJG5WSYEevh4dwMiAL2AW0D5xHT-4Fr7WK0orWEeaFI9K4IWdIZmNVouJFDHqdjF3PvY61N53eS8C91Ay3IEdwQIIFirkUiYJSDU/s320/Jardin+du+Luxembourg,+Musee+d%27Orsay+028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500563286417745714" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And then, it was back to my isle, a straight shot to my creperie where I got a very tasty crepe au beurre et sucre (cheap and mmm mmm good) and went back to the Foyer. Satisfying night. Like most nights in Paris, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">en faite.</span></i></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Until tomorrow, dear readers! </span></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-88104377067085831732010-07-31T18:08:00.011-04:002010-07-31T18:33:43.892-04:00Tour de FRICKIN France<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu_2SuNFzMcy9J_cw0wEJ3atxJ5TpFrkqvjZpi6-dprO6EXdebs7PQV4x8Ly65ATjXHtfsPsd6NPkL170CWm4Qd1MdBCQbBhrzDbT6b4cKXQXvlJEdqUN10nDHLLRavX6tyEH3lGkBvKn/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+357.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvu_2SuNFzMcy9J_cw0wEJ3atxJ5TpFrkqvjZpi6-dprO6EXdebs7PQV4x8Ly65ATjXHtfsPsd6NPkL170CWm4Qd1MdBCQbBhrzDbT6b4cKXQXvlJEdqUN10nDHLLRavX6tyEH3lGkBvKn/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+357.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500202005269617122" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; ">Okay, so I've been really remiss in updating the blog. In fact, I'm several days behind. But when I go out, I come back late and I'm tired and sigh. Whatever. So this is going to be a pretty short description of what went down last Sunday. It was pretty fabulous day.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7AUYC2KeqZlPhFuh_2k8Ngorjd2-kCxTJOCZPHRijPiS8A4sDgYcQ19qGghMwNzKA5omsjy_qBFx7Z3ZskzKWYbqDJUZ1kUwlVmKxe4GOR5Jg7l1szF6S3jhO3JE9ae32FCNoUP4Q9Ox/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+304.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr7AUYC2KeqZlPhFuh_2k8Ngorjd2-kCxTJOCZPHRijPiS8A4sDgYcQ19qGghMwNzKA5omsjy_qBFx7Z3ZskzKWYbqDJUZ1kUwlVmKxe4GOR5Jg7l1szF6S3jhO3JE9ae32FCNoUP4Q9Ox/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+304.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500197875673312162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div>So at 11 or so, Celine and I met up in the reception and went to the creperie that now knows us both and got two crepes. Then we took a nice walk to Hotel de Ville, where we took the metro to Les Champs Elysees, where the Tour was doing its final stages. There were already tons of people there, but not as many as on Bastille Day. So the first thing I do, like a genius, is buy ridiculous amounts of souvenirs and Tour de France gear for my family back home. Because, really, how often do you get to say you went to the Tour de France? Right. Not often at all. So we walked a good ways until we spot a completely empty spot (right between a tree and pole, whatever) and claimed it as our own. Very good spot. Practically right next to the road, and 100m from the finish line (called "Sprint").<div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFarw_9A5uR4s0tOibtYizF5wJE563VHUVcIJ0KHyDuPGeunKQ062JC9Zp9eSrE92JqMjsxEhyorFq0QqAhYOyBfF2M08qpU5ZuaNn52AxwZDYYlips_-8EbRxOonlCgVqkE8zNVd8izHG/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+311.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFarw_9A5uR4s0tOibtYizF5wJE563VHUVcIJ0KHyDuPGeunKQ062JC9Zp9eSrE92JqMjsxEhyorFq0QqAhYOyBfF2M08qpU5ZuaNn52AxwZDYYlips_-8EbRxOonlCgVqkE8zNVd8izHG/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+311.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500198148342448386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There we stood. For 5. Frickin. Hours. FIVE HOURS. The bikers were supposed to come by at two but the only people who started coming by at 2pm were the Tour sponsors. Sponsors after sponsors after sponsors, touting their products with huge floats, moving automatic structures, trucks with dancers, loud music, painted vehicles, hoses, the works. It was a very entertaining procession that lasted way too long. But entertaining nonetheless.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZorzZdPp_9ttQnjq7VVfLruCZiX_lXVDu_K4a3V-Fk-a5AKf9Sh44a01eX3-GzRQyWZdgFjVkLrAto-yJVZ6U7bvICrqCFRl7BRu5jFXQA7s-rh4AIUbL0PULjqiF37CbuVNtjgPYlGU/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+333.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZorzZdPp_9ttQnjq7VVfLruCZiX_lXVDu_K4a3V-Fk-a5AKf9Sh44a01eX3-GzRQyWZdgFjVkLrAto-yJVZ6U7bvICrqCFRl7BRu5jFXQA7s-rh4AIUbL0PULjqiF37CbuVNtjgPYlGU/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+333.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500199197160242594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMYjNqNWzYvs8wEnZDWFP_A-RwdCvsC2SWeWCKrIwHxEz3L_9k6smEMK9-Xtg1O0eRWFzJ_6IU8L_lRyRVJTF7RDKcLEUn0iJUfXZEdGeNpQZG8GI1_8yGOeMgfd1fMKG7NDQ1JCsOz7U/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+326.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMYjNqNWzYvs8wEnZDWFP_A-RwdCvsC2SWeWCKrIwHxEz3L_9k6smEMK9-Xtg1O0eRWFzJ_6IU8L_lRyRVJTF7RDKcLEUn0iJUfXZEdGeNpQZG8GI1_8yGOeMgfd1fMKG7NDQ1JCsOz7U/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500199459924579010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Before the cyclists came by, we had an interesting "incident." Celine and I had great spots so people kept trying to squeeze through and get as close as possible to the road. At some point, a very large foul-smelling mouth-breathing man came by and kept trying to squeeze through the crowd towards the railing, putting his hand right next to mine. I kept pushing him away so he went and stood right behind Celine, practically pushing up against her. Finally, the very nice man next to Celine called over the police and the police shooed the man away. I thought a fight was going to break out and was extremely eager. Unfortunately, it did not. However, I did notice another neighbor once Mouth Breather had left:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8BF6irszwq-q-ZMC2J-87lIWRyvvjfcKZ_DAoh8kdFvXEBD5qFyrk6KV0Um5H18LNp_t3s7r79Qyk0nRyC_XTe_wTeTdqTxIcae3DFCCDtU-ZRcQh35b2HFYzKN5Ooq2jG-GPFYhblwd/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+345.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8BF6irszwq-q-ZMC2J-87lIWRyvvjfcKZ_DAoh8kdFvXEBD5qFyrk6KV0Um5H18LNp_t3s7r79Qyk0nRyC_XTe_wTeTdqTxIcae3DFCCDtU-ZRcQh35b2HFYzKN5Ooq2jG-GPFYhblwd/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+345.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500200067220406386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Too cute. Too too cute. Okay, on to the cyclists: everyone freaked out when they saw the first cyclist coming towards us. And then suddenly, it was a procession. Several cars full of supplies and security officials and the like came speeding by, followed a tight throng of cyclists all biking at insane speeds, followed by a lot more cars with bikes strapped to the roofs, a medic, and some policemen on motorcycles. The cars were going so fast to keep up with the cyclists. Most of the photos I took were basically blurs because they were moving so fast. Anyway, it was pretty thrilling.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwZH-b4auIA3ODipBcdAqabW2CqLaeT94pTxeVqxFVrsa_JC41U83pA4BDtxXQu7DmNNMxDmrx5cFArnokDr4OleQCQVcfH166yhj55NfPyPD0QmXp4gZMct1kzgTQXaqksnKvv2yfZTv/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+359.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwZH-b4auIA3ODipBcdAqabW2CqLaeT94pTxeVqxFVrsa_JC41U83pA4BDtxXQu7DmNNMxDmrx5cFArnokDr4OleQCQVcfH166yhj55NfPyPD0QmXp4gZMct1kzgTQXaqksnKvv2yfZTv/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+359.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500200503494702562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAYQPwDCFfgmU7LUoWQ9qLYGZwmiNbv_6gUHR-D3Laba2OZ58LazBYu9MPGTOlGtQBI2FQE4Hh_I7Mg1jImr_zyGgS60ga3PjzeAxXCi9eXSv4LoBp1J06FdK8Zwa_NuHHw3QxW328JQa/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+355.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAYQPwDCFfgmU7LUoWQ9qLYGZwmiNbv_6gUHR-D3Laba2OZ58LazBYu9MPGTOlGtQBI2FQE4Hh_I7Mg1jImr_zyGgS60ga3PjzeAxXCi9eXSv4LoBp1J06FdK8Zwa_NuHHw3QxW328JQa/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+355.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500201254366834258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:medium;">These things are timed trials though. So basically they do several laps and get points for finishing with a certain time (I believe...) so they had to do eight laps around the Champs Elysees and that was the final leg. After the fourth lap, Celine and I decided we had seen enough blurs on bikes and peaced out. After getting back to the foyer, we got Celine her last ever crepe, I ate a dinner of something..and we had a nice snacking session by the Seine as the sun debated setting (it was only 6:30, so it decided not to).</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTchI2AxIe18Cbb9I6bxOpRN3s4AdOHRVihQACbgFrdaeeVHdU0b7_gN4Qg1zIQzVMF8MFO_0Ozw2xQ_d8VPV6X8ao0nFF7SpJTuwND77JboKHAWnxnvPPzbPJkt6OUnfI6PFBhnUkgVj/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+372.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQTchI2AxIe18Cbb9I6bxOpRN3s4AdOHRVihQACbgFrdaeeVHdU0b7_gN4Qg1zIQzVMF8MFO_0Ozw2xQ_d8VPV6X8ao0nFF7SpJTuwND77JboKHAWnxnvPPzbPJkt6OUnfI6PFBhnUkgVj/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500201628801779906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">All in all, pretty awesome day. So these last few days have been chock full of events, which I will write about asap. Tomorrow: Free Museum Day!! Woot. Going to be a busy busy LONG day. A plus tard!</span></span></div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-68291012890323253592010-07-29T01:50:00.002-04:002010-07-29T01:58:54.600-04:00Very Belated Week 3 Recap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOP508zUQhV03WYc9MTGN6Kd923_SVdQPuvDY1mUd92dZqte9mHs50QMXsFCoSr8UbFvNjOPz4-_YdS4oW38_lw1dK1TFn3lYXeB2Lgsyo1HX0YPuRqpRKrJlE5_2W0Vys-ibnTlFxCcp3/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+104.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOP508zUQhV03WYc9MTGN6Kd923_SVdQPuvDY1mUd92dZqte9mHs50QMXsFCoSr8UbFvNjOPz4-_YdS4oW38_lw1dK1TFn3lYXeB2Lgsyo1HX0YPuRqpRKrJlE5_2W0Vys-ibnTlFxCcp3/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499203571000246738" /></a>(for Daddy) <div><br /></div><div>1. went to the Louvre on Wednesday. Got lost. Saw only half the French paintings in 2 hours and 45 minutes. Made plans to go back several more times. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Now have my own creperie. And my own boulangerie. They know and love me (I hope). </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Had lunch with another Princeton alum. Couldn't cut my duck. The waiter teased me (what is it with French waiters??)</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Failed at finding a farmer's market. Failed at shopping at a farmer's market. Failed to properly by produce at the supermarket. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Went to the YSL fashion exposition at the Petit Palais. Was awed by haute couture clothes. Went to Les Invalides. Saw Napoleon's tomb and an amazing war museum. Saw armor from centuries ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. Went on a bike tour throughout Paris at nighttime. Took a boat cruise on the Seine. Magical. </div><div><br /></div><div>7. Went to the Tour de France five hours early. Got great spots. 100m from the finish line. Right by the course. Spent ridiculous amounts of money on gifts for family/friends. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, that's it. Going to the Musee d'Orsay tonight. Hopefully will have time to post about Tour de France//what I've been doing this week!</div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-61018822345223832002010-07-27T14:33:00.018-04:002010-07-28T16:38:55.733-04:00The One With the Flowers<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1D2qeFNc0a0UNsXtuQyD5f-t7-zq2ocLQVj_Mj71UzXIH8s5yewDd2skx8xrRVYV3KbLYlQN3Z0m0JFIZWiyTthbaWsOrKDcDYbdvMyuP01Gl79eQDMLjX8_QY68XUlVBb9eBxYp6tTYc/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+143.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1D2qeFNc0a0UNsXtuQyD5f-t7-zq2ocLQVj_Mj71UzXIH8s5yewDd2skx8xrRVYV3KbLYlQN3Z0m0JFIZWiyTthbaWsOrKDcDYbdvMyuP01Gl79eQDMLjX8_QY68XUlVBb9eBxYp6tTYc/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+143.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498657951657416034" /></a>Okay, Bike Tour time! Finally. If you haven't read my post about the YSL Expo and Les Invalides, scroll down and read that first. I mean it. Read it? Okay good. On we go to the Bike Tour. <div><br /></div><div>So I got back from my trip with Isabelle at about 5:45, hurriedly changed into biking clothes, quickly ate an apple and went to the reception room to meet Maria at our decided time of 6:15. She was walking through the door at that exact moment...in a skirt. Turns out she had just gotten back from her own long day and had to change. Took her about 20 minutes, which meant we were rushing out of the Foyer and running to the train. Had to change the metro and then go about ten stops and then run around like lost people trying to find the Fat Tire Bike Tour office. We were following the directions on their website, but still failed. Finally, we got there at about 7:07 (for a 7:00 bike tour), breathing heavily, talking between gasps. Turns out we weren't even close to being late for the tour. There are several groups that leave in short bursts, and we were put in group six, which left right before 8:00pm. So we had some time to kill, doing nothing, watch the Day Bike Tour trips come back and the Night Bike Tour groups get their bikes and take off with their respective leaders. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPDn98hpBYA6Gfh5510pXHx6Kpef6xSWtbEGZOtTRQFTqxijoblBXGBisfF3QQvsA4y22vWO8AQiU1K-0F9Y_LXonzj9jfwKmGvO1DtxoeRcGY9LaWHoQh_MvtB2o9sfOvu1yoMpxaFXK/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+147.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilPDn98hpBYA6Gfh5510pXHx6Kpef6xSWtbEGZOtTRQFTqxijoblBXGBisfF3QQvsA4y22vWO8AQiU1K-0F9Y_LXonzj9jfwKmGvO1DtxoeRcGY9LaWHoQh_MvtB2o9sfOvu1yoMpxaFXK/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+147.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498658423461218466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div>When it came to our turn, I got a kid's bike (of course), we got into our group of 24 English-speaking people (from England, Australia, the States, etc.) and our very awesome American guide, Jackson. Very funny. Witty. Loud. Just the kind of person I like. He told us to stick together, follow his instructions, and DOMINATE the streets. So we did. And off we were into the streets of Paris. Biking through Paris: a lot of fun. Not half as scary as I thought. We almost killed a bunch of pedestrians, though. And pissed off a LOT OF cars and motorcyclists. Some pedestrians thought we were the Tour de France...hahaaa. It was a nice, breezy day, we all stuck together, and it was quite a relaxing enjoyable ride (especially since I'm used to biking every night back home and had quite missed the endorphin high).<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-GCMqd9uYdmEM79QsIN7890cPNTkC0XIN7Heacmuon-bnV2Ai-X2bp0fFdOhBzYjj9NkxDP3bxAsQTha95EwrpeGBmTd2AMHcDa5Tz7J915ctC51K7XnTYUXoT90oIAFgCxjpPAnGfi7/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+156.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-GCMqd9uYdmEM79QsIN7890cPNTkC0XIN7Heacmuon-bnV2Ai-X2bp0fFdOhBzYjj9NkxDP3bxAsQTha95EwrpeGBmTd2AMHcDa5Tz7J915ctC51K7XnTYUXoT90oIAFgCxjpPAnGfi7/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499055959224892370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div>Our first stop: the Notre Dame. We barely stopped to take pictures, but we had an interesting time trying to navigate the crazy amounts of people always crowding the courtyard in front of the Notre Dame. Almost ran into a few carriages. Next stop: the bridge right next to where I live, to get the best ice cream in Paris from Berthillon. The main store is literally on the street next to mine, but I've been avoiding it so I could save the experience for the bike tour. Berthillon itself was closed but almost every ice cream place on the island sells Berthillon, so Maria and I, like true residents of Isle Saint-Louis, went to the place that we know wouldn't have a crowd in front of it. Know what? Everyone on the bike tour followed us! Hilarious. I got a bowl of two scoops:<i> cacao amer</i> and <i>framboise</i>. Very good. Walked back to the bridge and enjoyed it with the rest of the group while we listened to Jackson's anecdotes about every historic site around us.<div><div><br /></div><div>For example: apparently, Johnny Depp lives on my island. Um..woot. Why did I not know this before? Now I have to go stalk his apartment. Sigh. I can't believe this isn't common knowledge at the Foyer. We should have a bonding trip to hunt down Johnny Depp. Okay, but I digress. Back onto the bikes. And now, through the streets of Paris, to the Palais du Justice, which I've already been to. Stop for some stories, blah blah. Never got off the bikes. Next stop: Louvre. Where we did a few laps around the fountain in the courtyard before biking to the front with the beautiful glass pyramid. We actually were allowed to get off and take pictures this time! </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X0mWV5LhbwZqfjsQ8SwkeXvTlFeynPFvYfnr0PHr_BmDwesyZKMqllFIeCfNFRSQZxsN6-w7hZVkJncH34baCE48-kZG3ipHVEoshfpwIK9bFLqOXpLaB6PF1REogGrBuycA3zk-gHLq/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+150.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2X0mWV5LhbwZqfjsQ8SwkeXvTlFeynPFvYfnr0PHr_BmDwesyZKMqllFIeCfNFRSQZxsN6-w7hZVkJncH34baCE48-kZG3ipHVEoshfpwIK9bFLqOXpLaB6PF1REogGrBuycA3zk-gHLq/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+150.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498661844244558946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div></div><div>After the Louvre, we continued through the streets, past a beautiful pedestrian bridge of picnicers, past a ferris wheel, through a beautiful park and down a ramp to get to the boat docks. We parked our bikes on the side of all the tour buses that were there and got on to our boat, called Les Bateaux Mouches. We made up only a small part of the all the crowd on the boat. There were at least eighty people on that boat, on both the bottom and top decks. We sat down in a group and waited for the tour to begin. </div><div><br /></div><div>The whole ride along the Seine lasted about an hour, with an recorded tape announcing (in five or six languages) every time we passed an important historical site, and a bit of information concerning the site. By the time they got to the Mandarin translation, we had passed the site and the Chinese tourists were getting incorrect information. Unfortunate. But Paris at night, especially on the keys with all the tourists and the parties and the picnics and the music and the dancing, so beautiful. It was past ten and Paris is alive! It took me a while to figure out how to get my camera to take good pictures in the dark, but I got a few. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjPdmpliWon9bXiOl8ss0qk97dif0pXNsJGiJUL98nZIYw2s4tLjR0y1FqB3yoLo8-8GEo63VrINKOWBM0IFOz2HVI1ddxYr1krt3pP_Hc44sHITB3vEdh1sZRTHjo2I_nxRjZUPQMlNL/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+174.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjPdmpliWon9bXiOl8ss0qk97dif0pXNsJGiJUL98nZIYw2s4tLjR0y1FqB3yoLo8-8GEo63VrINKOWBM0IFOz2HVI1ddxYr1krt3pP_Hc44sHITB3vEdh1sZRTHjo2I_nxRjZUPQMlNL/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+174.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498663851952483874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>The back of the Conciergerie (mentioned in a previous post): </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcHrV-qcFKtY9mWdXMYGpUfIwQmO1fXVcjWVcuer34ICb8Oj_U4N6CcGzMuHUwlHUh7Q6y2YjuL5tTPH9Bs-rroLxXwN6VejuKjpF4E0IBtpBLEQWXj_RGUOP9lNFkzNcibjzk3UmgQm5/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+209.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJcHrV-qcFKtY9mWdXMYGpUfIwQmO1fXVcjWVcuer34ICb8Oj_U4N6CcGzMuHUwlHUh7Q6y2YjuL5tTPH9Bs-rroLxXwN6VejuKjpF4E0IBtpBLEQWXj_RGUOP9lNFkzNcibjzk3UmgQm5/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498664146472740498" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>A bridge (every time we passed under a bridge, the whole boat screamed as if they were on a rollercoaster, and often the pedestrians on the bridge joined us in our ludicrousness):</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0M_MbZUDUmJ5JxPZmelMypxnnXOvoJz3LQfYMsXAu8O5zHOMu0oThT8LkVJDhTRW0g3ayR1YClGCbmPjyjn47wnusmqZyPyFJ11_eLds8GzWMFXO7H2SdJlIAY8FlzfARowHx4PtXPqc/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+243.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0M_MbZUDUmJ5JxPZmelMypxnnXOvoJz3LQfYMsXAu8O5zHOMu0oThT8LkVJDhTRW0g3ayR1YClGCbmPjyjn47wnusmqZyPyFJ11_eLds8GzWMFXO7H2SdJlIAY8FlzfARowHx4PtXPqc/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498664480596335522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Another night cruise (we passed quite a few, and a ton of them were quite lavish, with dinners going on inside, plants everywhere, themed decorations, one had a nightclub, etc.):</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4YGTA_SVQ4MfhwzXQ3kvYFb1mcVgcfuOsXpIvMTYF0zJWBvFJ5f3Ju7IYORROEbfxVBBIzRqIm8KbqYNzLpS81Mk14snMhC8SP8aGjt66PHOOSrd6FmNS_zKAXE1Dma4SK8ALsDLhog-/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+238.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN4YGTA_SVQ4MfhwzXQ3kvYFb1mcVgcfuOsXpIvMTYF0zJWBvFJ5f3Ju7IYORROEbfxVBBIzRqIm8KbqYNzLpS81Mk14snMhC8SP8aGjt66PHOOSrd6FmNS_zKAXE1Dma4SK8ALsDLhog-/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498664981021669618" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div>By a few, I mean I got forty pictures of just the Eiffel Tower. It's pretty. And we were so close. It's absolutely gorgeous at night.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAZEyzq4M8I0cINvX2a6zep2OlaSCFn4b5qFapIQDzeEpkcB-6X_pWi-o16Qunkf0e-KS-7Jhbx4dOUeYx_yYhBd9aItMHL4Sr28Bj5b7P22vwEJLkg7b60wLl3TOVuvMCe6UiWxERuKb/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+261.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVAZEyzq4M8I0cINvX2a6zep2OlaSCFn4b5qFapIQDzeEpkcB-6X_pWi-o16Qunkf0e-KS-7Jhbx4dOUeYx_yYhBd9aItMHL4Sr28Bj5b7P22vwEJLkg7b60wLl3TOVuvMCe6UiWxERuKb/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+261.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499054163809231282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vroeRz_0xuSW7M2vDFqgW0s2wbzyYDV-rMobhaW5eFR4u2J8-He1qdgi1yKdSGRnQG_NcC_Lr4hOjwLUTZMmYE42j9stArx3ixrJnnKuaN-BDeQaF7pBqqJuJdio1uiw8EtD08qLLixs/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+271.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vroeRz_0xuSW7M2vDFqgW0s2wbzyYDV-rMobhaW5eFR4u2J8-He1qdgi1yKdSGRnQG_NcC_Lr4hOjwLUTZMmYE42j9stArx3ixrJnnKuaN-BDeQaF7pBqqJuJdio1uiw8EtD08qLLixs/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+271.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499054488152141570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91aUZnyyoNvQC-t1bh_o3Gk39hd7sREYvBHir_9cfL0WJDMYzfwCaJ9MYBBAk3-pwHq3yccC6h_rZh6EERHO5XppdzuXCiDjL2PnMK5qiRzuWg3AbsCLNJ6uumQaPG8fMaCtWZysTe46O/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+294.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg91aUZnyyoNvQC-t1bh_o3Gk39hd7sREYvBHir_9cfL0WJDMYzfwCaJ9MYBBAk3-pwHq3yccC6h_rZh6EERHO5XppdzuXCiDjL2PnMK5qiRzuWg3AbsCLNJ6uumQaPG8fMaCtWZysTe46O/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+294.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499054828431726786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmC9uvPsIW9zWL2dDTkw_aHD9vjokQ1UfDDKTeBWQhVVAgmrL7XzevU051dj0oT5w7LrG-Be3f3PvbUFXf4JbeTK1wzM_NmWIHb5DzPo9lPgPIEfR5l09eFnB4NTr7DkT2ShB4Ip5uEl7/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+292.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOmC9uvPsIW9zWL2dDTkw_aHD9vjokQ1UfDDKTeBWQhVVAgmrL7XzevU051dj0oT5w7LrG-Be3f3PvbUFXf4JbeTK1wzM_NmWIHb5DzPo9lPgPIEfR5l09eFnB4NTr7DkT2ShB4Ip5uEl7/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+292.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499055503175151442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div>As always, more pictures are up on the Picasa web album.</div><div>By the time we finished the boat tour, it was almost midnight. We got back on our bikes, plowed through a crowd of pedestrians and biked back through the still-jumping streets of Paris to the Fat Tire Bike Tour office. It was past midnight at this point and by the time Maria and I got back to the foyer, it was 1230am. In any case, it was a night very well spent. </div><div><br /></div><div>Next post: Le Tour de France!!!</div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-33184534112982304292010-07-26T05:28:00.027-04:002010-07-27T10:45:15.394-04:00Voulez-vous que je vous accompagne?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSgOFPTwJaRpv1nJ44kzhCUZYHChg0DzZzs8CcRPRSJXCoQVDAIAEtrFQ63-Ry5hqEqBxjX9jGa4GQ_X4lWzI3cET0W5itkc5Em2IDxKa4CWsnHe01DgGo2lk_oX6X7-umE3_XfjuEM5D/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+095.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMSgOFPTwJaRpv1nJ44kzhCUZYHChg0DzZzs8CcRPRSJXCoQVDAIAEtrFQ63-Ry5hqEqBxjX9jGa4GQ_X4lWzI3cET0W5itkc5Em2IDxKa4CWsnHe01DgGo2lk_oX6X7-umE3_XfjuEM5D/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+095.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498596332113275314" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; ">These are the artisan marshmallows (which I have now finished--thank god!!) which were the bane of my existence for so long. To be completely honest, though, the last couple were not so bad. They were almost good.</span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpldjbVi-hedbWFnZP03x5Z24dWkf2NBc5pbxkchxXyKCWy3068aD65TJfdSkihdeO7e65nSkf0raesem7E8hvMfY6utmScRzmMGRJKgi_s4IAX_E-Ee4j40DG9Qt0boUaFKwg0xxIzo7/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpldjbVi-hedbWFnZP03x5Z24dWkf2NBc5pbxkchxXyKCWy3068aD65TJfdSkihdeO7e65nSkf0raesem7E8hvMfY6utmScRzmMGRJKgi_s4IAX_E-Ee4j40DG9Qt0boUaFKwg0xxIzo7/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498595675016125746" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, this entry is about Saturday. My fabulous Saturday. As of Friday night, I had been planning on going to Centre Pompidou and Les Invalides (all by my lonesome) before joining my friend Maria for the Fat Tire Bike Tour. However, a friend of mine, the Belgian Isabelle, was sitting next to me in the reception area and told me about the YSL (Yves Saint Laurent, a very famous French designer) exposition currently going on at the Petit Palais (a Parisian museum, one of about 1000). It also turned out that we both wanted to go to Les Invalides! So we decided to spend Saturday together. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEJQvr5BNReL8TQgUSz-9oweTv47rfs_sMt41g7fj0knTgr3UHiBzrzLQhhwv5CBmRJucDJHjsMbQkZpOp7v3NEvbzOdk_HHkym_Ka1lt0etTLJKQ51sQbtG_JFARW3JxFBHSwkjoHCZW/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+027.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEJQvr5BNReL8TQgUSz-9oweTv47rfs_sMt41g7fj0knTgr3UHiBzrzLQhhwv5CBmRJucDJHjsMbQkZpOp7v3NEvbzOdk_HHkym_Ka1lt0etTLJKQ51sQbtG_JFARW3JxFBHSwkjoHCZW/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498499548887128802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>I woke up pretty early, had breakfast with Isabelle and then we made the 40-minute trek (very beautiful in the morning, just along the Seine, nice cool weather, all the beautiful buildings all around us, very calm and quite) over to the Petit Palais. The place hadn't even opened yet and yet there was already a line of ticket holders and non-ticket holders. Sigh. We though we'd never get in. Thankfully, we only had to wait half an hour and then we were in! Lucky us! </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-aAO9yv02QR9A6pqqzYCKk86j636LfFbZA9Pdz5pPo8-3Z3dfGWdNa6ftXS6_IwYXJWjrMMBoILLaMgrL28p6jpuVwprxM-DfJ2bn0NNjBF9IIBJkGmQ5GAG_zenmoMq9Sw869KTGMu4/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+005.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-aAO9yv02QR9A6pqqzYCKk86j636LfFbZA9Pdz5pPo8-3Z3dfGWdNa6ftXS6_IwYXJWjrMMBoILLaMgrL28p6jpuVwprxM-DfJ2bn0NNjBF9IIBJkGmQ5GAG_zenmoMq9Sw869KTGMu4/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498496667788694050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>Well so we went into the exposition...and it was absolutely amazing. Very beautifully crafted. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, photography was not allowed. So I couldn't take pictures of the reconstructed Yves Saint Laurent workdesk, his many sketches, and over 300 pieces that had been put on mannequins, lining about 20-30 rooms. There were pieces in glassed showcases, videos playing on screens (of interviews of friends and the designer himself), framed prints of magazine photos of models wearing his clothing, walls reprinted with newspaper article excerpts talking about his shows, plaques on every room describing the era and theme of the set of clothing within the room...it was just so so well done. My favorite room was the one with the ballgowns. Very haute-couture, high fashion, exquisite looking. The room of exposition itself looked like a high-society ballroom, where an actual ball would take place. I took a very sneaky picture: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1-9QiuzidHa-_WmVMan5zNbCc5IOIKU9ij8HqIk-WTBs0zDyZ_wWeqti2NmGoiu_wGYOrGbsK8qu8Oe4IKWQhfa3_slhp09bE1eFnEjxgpxtjRgfcmsgnyWdhNCPPDmPRhUrxd_IgI8L/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+009.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-1-9QiuzidHa-_WmVMan5zNbCc5IOIKU9ij8HqIk-WTBs0zDyZ_wWeqti2NmGoiu_wGYOrGbsK8qu8Oe4IKWQhfa3_slhp09bE1eFnEjxgpxtjRgfcmsgnyWdhNCPPDmPRhUrxd_IgI8L/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498497840117467394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>Yes, it sucks. Deal. The last room featured hanging gradient dresses, made of the softest chiffons and silks and completely airy materials. The room was covered in squares of fabric in all color palettes, lining the hanging dresses that were blowing in the breeze of built-in fans. Very nice effect. Couldn't picture very well, but you get the idea: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTayYMt7AlFG2QUBxwkQzBpL3tkeRtQATHg5fUsDJjRtk8dBUUmqxcInU-V4YlJ5z4cH-LudwD3LsAeuEYVIWdnHbdCgjzlMtdE5p4Yi_OU5pBHncGaxN7ClHJ6tVVDA7lvTTc5gjV_oF/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+012.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnTayYMt7AlFG2QUBxwkQzBpL3tkeRtQATHg5fUsDJjRtk8dBUUmqxcInU-V4YlJ5z4cH-LudwD3LsAeuEYVIWdnHbdCgjzlMtdE5p4Yi_OU5pBHncGaxN7ClHJ6tVVDA7lvTTc5gjV_oF/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498498452259885042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>So after the exposition, Isabelle and I decided to explore the rest of the Petit Palais, which is basically like any other museum, just smaller. Paintings, sculptures, precious metals, the like. I got bored pretty quickly and decided to wait for Isabelle (an art student) in the garden (which I infinitely preferred to the paintings). Look how pretty!!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAylnjfzs4AimB1_BdUIra67HnNb2I0_pNbU5UMsFyOhSwnJBjSenhjvBq2Jo7-poja2gzwdIjffk_EuaUbhSftpjc4-a7XS4mx7LBBbB6tdVoP4IM1fYSZ0UQFaM1Bnmc_vcHPZrKqU4S/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+021.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAylnjfzs4AimB1_BdUIra67HnNb2I0_pNbU5UMsFyOhSwnJBjSenhjvBq2Jo7-poja2gzwdIjffk_EuaUbhSftpjc4-a7XS4mx7LBBbB6tdVoP4IM1fYSZ0UQFaM1Bnmc_vcHPZrKqU4S/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498499139675210402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZCEmihgmm-FdTN8SwhZowa4sze1tWOe4u002HUv9urrIWuVnSwLNjZ26E6F4VCz70iZ4b0wA2CfvHT0edjFfjd_V4z0Oqi-MGbxlU3gIMqQxDfNHTkyhbT4oBZiDJbQbPFOhFK-T1_he/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+023.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZCEmihgmm-FdTN8SwhZowa4sze1tWOe4u002HUv9urrIWuVnSwLNjZ26E6F4VCz70iZ4b0wA2CfvHT0edjFfjd_V4z0Oqi-MGbxlU3gIMqQxDfNHTkyhbT4oBZiDJbQbPFOhFK-T1_he/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+023.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498499293212144434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>Okay, on to Les Invalides. Les Invalides was basically a ten-minute walk from Petit Palais, a straight walk across the most beautiful bridge I have ever seen, Pont Alexandre III. Seriously, this bridge is spectacular: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3C3XJZH_zhwb_hwdeLs312QZRGITxmaSCMg5FNOQqu3yNn_fOrr-mKOu6Xz6YVW1m9SYDvTJa4x-DAxRVeQu6iYKyUgSD_L3KV-6p-YRPtXXnkqJOxO80fSrotA4_OJYRbsaf1TV6qte-/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+033.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3C3XJZH_zhwb_hwdeLs312QZRGITxmaSCMg5FNOQqu3yNn_fOrr-mKOu6Xz6YVW1m9SYDvTJa4x-DAxRVeQu6iYKyUgSD_L3KV-6p-YRPtXXnkqJOxO80fSrotA4_OJYRbsaf1TV6qte-/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498499986086832482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>And then we continued to Les Invalides. Basically, Les Invalides is a collection of buildings that, together, pay tribute to soldiers and wars and the victims of wars past. It has a hotel, a hospital, a church, and several museums commemorating wars and war relics past. We started out by visiting the L'Eglise Saint-Louis des Invalides, which is absolutely breathtaking church dedicated to fallen soldiers. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rv0m0f41Qf5Uc6_nV-ZgH0VLGmrusg_4NCYNSFwu1wd1zpkRruekodG4B9QUM2Xbf4ODJIq4n6pFtziDqNGVGtZxo-GjWuST3AJfpK-4RkbwoUM1lAEi9zHr57186CMKBTWztteyjZzn/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+044.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rv0m0f41Qf5Uc6_nV-ZgH0VLGmrusg_4NCYNSFwu1wd1zpkRruekodG4B9QUM2Xbf4ODJIq4n6pFtziDqNGVGtZxo-GjWuST3AJfpK-4RkbwoUM1lAEi9zHr57186CMKBTWztteyjZzn/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+044.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498530844912262546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjWGm7D5tWxPuXTcVcEFVhe5quo1PMe-vubl4v76RL82E5LWmvgAhYNDeEzYXjIyLDui-KhZpuHjwpadZ9EvSqQXxdgDnCkwSXC0XUNVA3rR9ce5bgrIKPYLpQLQF_QoqJIA2u8pDNY__/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+053.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjWGm7D5tWxPuXTcVcEFVhe5quo1PMe-vubl4v76RL82E5LWmvgAhYNDeEzYXjIyLDui-KhZpuHjwpadZ9EvSqQXxdgDnCkwSXC0XUNVA3rR9ce5bgrIKPYLpQLQF_QoqJIA2u8pDNY__/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+053.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498531521265716674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>And then it was on to the many, many museums of Les Invalides. First was Le Musee de L'Ordre de la Liberation. Basically, a hallway playing old war documentaries on giant screens, and then several rooms and hallways displaying war diaries, war propaganda, uniforms, tributes to actual soldiers, war medallions, Nazi swastikas...basically a ton of paraphernalia from World War II. The upstairs of this museum contained a particularly frightening (but thankfully very small) memorial to the Holocaust...pictures I never, ever want to see again and little plaques of information, as well as artistic representations of the horrors in camps. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9vAqNSQyEk_-5OiCP4-gZAR-zQPq49th5fiEM9ejVyTWZ_kTX7skGyFUD-Z0pm229kijU2FhRgJ9Jk_t1JdIT2TxqcIlENTrE8fAxkVRdSXbguJPs9iCMF7B24Xugkwg0lAZsT0kwfzh/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+058.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9vAqNSQyEk_-5OiCP4-gZAR-zQPq49th5fiEM9ejVyTWZ_kTX7skGyFUD-Z0pm229kijU2FhRgJ9Jk_t1JdIT2TxqcIlENTrE8fAxkVRdSXbguJPs9iCMF7B24Xugkwg0lAZsT0kwfzh/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498532866199732114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>And then...on to Napoleon's tomb! So awesome. It's a gigantic building with several small circular rooms dedicated to other, very famous fallen soldiers (like the other Napoleon...who no one really hears about) and generals and the like. They all have very large coffins, all of which are blocked off from the public. Beautiful though. Napoleon's is in the very center of the building, set in a large circular crypt with a viewing gallery, columns, and walls covered in sculptures and bas relief art. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3vEel8Bd7bFcFSdXFZlMq7l1JdC0Q9qKuNxcDd_gEfaqdTQAr-sfxZvSO_QAMQzO3YYmAztCcHmH3TJQASpZLKmkQRGqdNPrhDGwb_Fs-CuQsAENj18iEBk22i3d4TolOr3gNjAGuIv1/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+071.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3vEel8Bd7bFcFSdXFZlMq7l1JdC0Q9qKuNxcDd_gEfaqdTQAr-sfxZvSO_QAMQzO3YYmAztCcHmH3TJQASpZLKmkQRGqdNPrhDGwb_Fs-CuQsAENj18iEBk22i3d4TolOr3gNjAGuIv1/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+071.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498533754554862002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WhbTQMik4eZygsWMvqasb7OqeE-hTlzHLAz6Ob4GwQaH-YxJ7PHc-70q8YGYortRweDcleGVVCtOVG0K6bjqgQn4Us8WEKkK0i8vOXbYweCUSWsuXK2Ba1GkcHuWvJdiUQfb-swQr2gr/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+088.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WhbTQMik4eZygsWMvqasb7OqeE-hTlzHLAz6Ob4GwQaH-YxJ7PHc-70q8YGYortRweDcleGVVCtOVG0K6bjqgQn4Us8WEKkK0i8vOXbYweCUSWsuXK2Ba1GkcHuWvJdiUQfb-swQr2gr/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+088.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498534079607774466" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>After a bit more wandering around the tomb and the rest of the amazing church and the gardens right in front of it (also very beautiful place..pictures are now on Picasa), we went on to the Musee de L'Armee, my personal favorite part of the entire Les Invalides experience. The musee is essentially a tribute to World War I and World War II. It's incredibly well-made, with artifacts, reconstructed war artifacts, letters, propaganda, newspaper article reprints, videos, walls covered in murals, war banners, medals, uniforms, artillery...I thought I had died and gone to heaven. (I'm a big non-fiction war story fan.) </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzr2hO5COvxFlQ5y3OIKmoJN_W3Dm_Dj0E5rqxg_toHy03AOMsnC6X3d-452ybNjBnerPBazuzScZGtEoJ31aHtdskzHanJ0r7ZWobo2bqnYJCBwApykzHTWK-gDx-uL8MIwm8qdcRFsu/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+126.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzr2hO5COvxFlQ5y3OIKmoJN_W3Dm_Dj0E5rqxg_toHy03AOMsnC6X3d-452ybNjBnerPBazuzScZGtEoJ31aHtdskzHanJ0r7ZWobo2bqnYJCBwApykzHTWK-gDx-uL8MIwm8qdcRFsu/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+126.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498593454691094626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5_MKPMNuzUySesjBNhFuSAjuS6Vwlvnm22E5vlGe0td49vO7uTNKKoTRaNVRrhI0fiH0yctYm4f9cWKdR3jv4fVyDqH_IsUod7VJgsrVONH8m_R5FfIVGi6U4GUE1WFG4poWwEvTB5Xa/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+112.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5_MKPMNuzUySesjBNhFuSAjuS6Vwlvnm22E5vlGe0td49vO7uTNKKoTRaNVRrhI0fiH0yctYm4f9cWKdR3jv4fVyDqH_IsUod7VJgsrVONH8m_R5FfIVGi6U4GUE1WFG4poWwEvTB5Xa/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+112.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498539198026290994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqP0c5I8Uk3YBybn_F0kqzbJaNBJ9mYnKKDlKEk3ua-IbwgHebSef1IVrGZevv10XD-sUoID4z3j-tuBOMrOvCMvbPdv1y_AR8gSKSpp6e4F0PVduS-ll2bj-TdV3a2LhuIXnj6i8oAhM/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+123.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiqP0c5I8Uk3YBybn_F0kqzbJaNBJ9mYnKKDlKEk3ua-IbwgHebSef1IVrGZevv10XD-sUoID4z3j-tuBOMrOvCMvbPdv1y_AR8gSKSpp6e4F0PVduS-ll2bj-TdV3a2LhuIXnj6i8oAhM/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498540735239575394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></div><div>It was so so so cool. Unfortunately, I had to quickly skim most of the rooms, as we just did not have enough time to see everything there was to see in detail. The rooms were cluttered with things to watch and look at and read. I could have spent days just in the war museum. However, by then, our feet were tired and we were both quite hungry. So we went to our last stop: the arms and armory museum, which featured ...arms and armory from several different countries and many different centuries. Bayonets, swords, guns, pistols, horse armor, Chinese warrior gear, descriptions of the many, many layers of armor a soldier had to wear...we saw it all. Pretty neat stuff. Most of them were donations, so it was all authentic, as well. So cool. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-dxrnuHcN1uI3PXMkIS2zSer3gqqtY0I-OqmKRNDsjFeKPT4_IM0kcHUwI3r5hcLSUEmHgjYmxlBOLNKMBLX5pC8yPQz0vWCVDMLFkbshuOdVwnsBi5m0FIbRKH-CrXqhE29J_5cA9fk/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+139.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW-dxrnuHcN1uI3PXMkIS2zSer3gqqtY0I-OqmKRNDsjFeKPT4_IM0kcHUwI3r5hcLSUEmHgjYmxlBOLNKMBLX5pC8yPQz0vWCVDMLFkbshuOdVwnsBi5m0FIbRKH-CrXqhE29J_5cA9fk/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+139.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498594235028065698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div>>Afterwards, we wandered onto a side market street well-hidden from tourists, with a ton of cafes and bakeries and other little shops. I got the worst crepe I've had since I've been here (turns out it wasn't as well hidden from tourists as I thought, as they charged the same price for crepes that weren't freshly made, which I guess makes no difference to unsuspecting tourists) and was upset. It was still pretty tasty though. Isabelle got flan from a gourmet bakery. Much better choice. I decided I need some salt, stopped at a supermarket and bought a ready-made frozen tuna sandwich. I had to get back to the Foyer at that point for the Bike Tour, so Isabelle dropped me off at the Metro and we parted ways.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQV0oLdaaCX01KItHgU9cZxOYCkc-9Zpj2iQFqiAjQsQ3XDKRmu8ZeiHYvodYBiAcvlWgCQaJq62k-7DwfiLJLr9S0sjusRf9JWVFGl3rzdjI82fd3LS-IacP3oVxS5JV1dE2h1eWBu8jV/s1600/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+035.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQV0oLdaaCX01KItHgU9cZxOYCkc-9Zpj2iQFqiAjQsQ3XDKRmu8ZeiHYvodYBiAcvlWgCQaJq62k-7DwfiLJLr9S0sjusRf9JWVFGl3rzdjI82fd3LS-IacP3oVxS5JV1dE2h1eWBu8jV/s320/Yves+SL,+Invalides,+Bike+Tour,+Tour+de+France+035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498594713788238002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div>Bike Tour: next entry!! Stay tuned.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-21702773889534368192010-07-23T14:08:00.005-04:002010-07-23T15:41:25.473-04:00Lost in the LouvreOkay, so this post will comprise three things:<div><br /></div><div>1) my first time at the Louvre</div><div><br /></div><div>2) my second lunch with a Princeton alum </div><div><br /></div><div>and</div><div><br /></div><div>3) my very Parisian day today </div><div><br /></div><div>But first, I must answer my wife's questions. American chains in Paris are a heart attack because the prices are insane. For example, at my house (aka Starbucks), I get a tall soy frappuccino (no matter what kind) for about $4.70. Here, it would be about 5,30 Euros. Which means a bit more than 7 dollars. Which is a ridiculous amount to pay for a caffeine fix. I can proudly say that I have not been to a Starbucks once during my Paris sojourn. (Or a Body Shop store.) And second: the bakery down the street from me is, in fact, open from Tuesday to Saturday. My mistake. But there are other stores (many) that only open random times of the week and spontaneously take vacations during the year. (But these are small, privately-owned enterprises so I understand.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, on to the Louvre. Wednesday night I decided I was bored, the Louvre was open late and cheap after 6pm, so I had a quick dinner (..can't remember what I ate), hopped on the metro and walked right in to the Louvre. The metro stop actually opens into Le Carrousel du Louvre which is a collection of random department stores and a food court and gift shops and boutiques...basically a mall. You have to go through the mall, past the security check and past a Starbucks (sigh..the tempation) to get to the actual museum itself. I happily bought myself a ticket from a ticket machine (some American cut me in line. Really, American? Really?), got myself a map in French, and proceeded to get lost. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I really wanted was to see the French Painting wings, which was marked on the map as being on the second floor. Technically, there is no second floor. In essence, the Louvre is separated into several wings, and each wing has a certain number of floors. So I was looking for the second floor, but of a specific wing. Which is why when I asked two security guards to be directed to the second floor, they gave me strange looks. The second security guard I spoke with happened to have a friend standing there, a very nice man who somehow knew the entire layout of the Louvre, offered to explain the directions to me in several languages, and finally decided to accompany me to my destination. Nice. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, I only needed him to take me as far as the escalator of the wing that houses the French Paintings. I took the escalator to the "0" floor and then climbed a ridiculous amount of wide, empty, creepy stone stairs to the get to the second floor. And then I proceeded to go through EVERY SINGLE ROOM IN THE FRENCH PAINTING WING , determined to see every single painting in the three hours I had until the museum closed. So I made the full circle (square). But guess what? In those 2 hrs 45 min I only saw HALF of the French paintings. Damn prolific French artists. Sigh. But at that point, my legs were dead and all the paintings had started to look the same and I was itching to go back to the Foyer. (Btw, a map of the french painting wing:)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="http://www.paris.org/Musees/Louvre/Plan/gifs/louvre_wingsT.gif"><img src="http://www.paris.org/Musees/Louvre/Plan/gifs/louvre_wingsT.gif" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 365px; height: 177px; " /></a></span></div><div>So the entire square labeled Sully was what I did. About 50 rooms of paintings. And it was ONLY HALF. Dear Lord. Many more trips to the Louvre to come. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I went back to Ile St. Louis (which is where I live), walked straight to the best, oiliest, cheapest creperie on my street and paid 2 Euros for a delicious sugar/butter crepe and 1,50 for a small cafe au lait, walked to the Foyer only spilling minimal amounts and lazied away the rest of my night. </div><div><br /></div><div>On to the next day. Most of it was boring, except for the lunch with another Princeton alum. This one was a Parisian, and did her Masters and PhD in Princeton in the Linguistics department, specializing in Chinese grammar. Now she's a researcher and a professor in Paris. We went to a really celebrated restaurant near where I work, called Le Buisson Ardent. Apparently it's been around forever. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="http://www.parisbestrestaurants.com/img/items/buisson-ardent-restaurant-paris.jpg"><img src="http://www.parisbestrestaurants.com/img/items/buisson-ardent-restaurant-paris.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 208px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>She and I both order a "formule" which basically is a set price for a main dish and a dessert, chosen from a list of the day's offerings. We both ordered <i>magret de canard avec des pommes de terre purees </i>and I got a <i>brochette de fruits avec du sauce chocolat </i>for dessert<i>. </i>(Translated: some kind of duck with delicious mashed potatoes and a fruit skewer with chocolate sauce.) It was absolutely delicious. The meat was impossible to cut, so the table started shaking, water spilling, until finally we demanded sharper knives. The conversation was also delightful. She gave me a bunch of tips about getting around Paris, tourism, told me all the places I should go during my lunch break, etc. So I will definitely be doing and writing about those things in the weeks to come. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="http://www.tourisme-montdemarsan.fr/upload/Magret%20de%20canard.jpg"><img src="http://www.tourisme-montdemarsan.fr/upload/Magret%20de%20canard.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 220px; " /></a></span></div><div>We exchanged business cards, and that was that. (And she paid. Good stuff.) </div><div><br /></div><div>And then on to today. This morning I decided to go to find the Marche Mouffetard, which I had stumbled upon a couple of weekends ago but hadn't had time to explore. It's basically a cobblestone street with a ton of cute shops and cafes and all that jazz. I left pretty early but got lost, found another market, got scared because I didn't know how to buy stuff in an open farmer's market and left. By that time, the actual supermarkets were open. So I bought a ton of apples and a bag of chocolate marshmallows (they were on sale...). When I went to pay, the cashier got all frustrated and told me that I had forgotten to weigh my fruits. Because apparently you have to weigh your fruit, get a sticker from the self-service machines by the produce and then pay. Holding up the line, I went back to pay and the man working there (noticing my incompetence) simply did it for me. He even stuck the sticker on my bag. Peachy. </div><div><br /></div><div>At lunch, I decided to do it Parisian style. Bought a super cheap demi-baguette for 43 cents at the BEST BAKERY EVER aka the bakery down the street from where I work, walked back to the Foyer, bought jam from the bakery down the street from where I live, went to the Foyer's cafeteria and had bread with jam. And yogurt. And then some fruit. Very sugary lunch. But so so good. This is my plan for all lunches from now on. Also, we always have leftover bread in a basket from breakfast at the Foyer so I might start just eating those instead of buying my own (although my bakery's bread is infinitely better). </div><div><br /></div><div>MMM Paris. Okay that's enough for tonight. This weekend should be exciting. BIKE TOUR. FINALLY. Let's all cross our fingers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, this is my Mummy: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PsRu6W1mjtuQMPYpAb_kDK8HwkGjxT0h4WsoKMfetD-NhfEojp_Ijcs216KpviBR-AGArL4R1kqq5GgwKaiMsAsMLlpzeTU1dEhqv-4eGhAY_U9Fygm-4QJknGsNZcOQZSt7GDXwtKrd/s1600/Video+call+snapshot+1+(2).png"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PsRu6W1mjtuQMPYpAb_kDK8HwkGjxT0h4WsoKMfetD-NhfEojp_Ijcs216KpviBR-AGArL4R1kqq5GgwKaiMsAsMLlpzeTU1dEhqv-4eGhAY_U9Fygm-4QJknGsNZcOQZSt7GDXwtKrd/s320/Video+call+snapshot+1+(2).png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497184140993991010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 99px; " /></a></span></div><div>And, wife: I did take pictures of the gross marshmallows (of which only one remains!!! VICTORY SHALL BE OURS). I will post them next entry. Promise. </div><div><br /></div><div>A demain!</div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-19486731735109033492010-07-22T14:16:00.014-04:002010-07-22T15:33:24.076-04:00"OMG, this is so cute!" (Our Day in Chartres)<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AZNQEDzjUxlIdoWPIuVgl9cMcS74ZA0yHxD8j4yrlYrjliIldi0uP1eWofc4scNaMEVQVdwjRC4TWixiFGlxbG08UhZcnTOsqFZqjcBO5aR7hMKz5ki_9UbubSbw9nrQXflaVhw2L3FA/s1600/Chartres+040.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AZNQEDzjUxlIdoWPIuVgl9cMcS74ZA0yHxD8j4yrlYrjliIldi0uP1eWofc4scNaMEVQVdwjRC4TWixiFGlxbG08UhZcnTOsqFZqjcBO5aR7hMKz5ki_9UbubSbw9nrQXflaVhw2L3FA/s320/Chartres+040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496798984922589458" /></a>Chartres. One hour southwest of Paris by SNCF train. Cute little town, famous for the most beautiful cathedral I have ever seen, Notre-Dame de Chartres. <div><br /></div><div>On Sunday morning, I woke up at around 6:30 (after spending a grueling day traveling between London and Paris and all that tour-bus-hopping) and got ready for Chartres. I went with Maria and her friend Isabel, a Spanish PhD candidate, doing her studies in gothic architecture (hence the trip to see a cathedral). </div><div><br /></div><div>We got there and immediately were shocked by the difference in pace from Paris. There were almost no people on the streets. All the shops were closed. Dead calm. And all the way uphill, we could see the towers of the cathedral, guiding us toward it. Not a very long walk, but still quite uphill. And, of course, the tallest structure in the town. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEChDZDgGoJ1S5Sy5akY62HKAXfuUftzlvq5DARkD1HojwCsNwmFJzB2aby7sfwbAdahykkvodO6S3r1OMdx_qkFTcPXzl_lnUIdMD72A1sfoS9kEWfWo-PEvta6cxwKPQ5Ykg0GNtdOE/s1600/Chartres+007.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEChDZDgGoJ1S5Sy5akY62HKAXfuUftzlvq5DARkD1HojwCsNwmFJzB2aby7sfwbAdahykkvodO6S3r1OMdx_qkFTcPXzl_lnUIdMD72A1sfoS9kEWfWo-PEvta6cxwKPQ5Ykg0GNtdOE/s320/Chartres+007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496802598596913474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>But first thing's first. Must talk about the craziest bathroom I have ever seen. Of course, as a tourist, the first thing you do when you reach your destination is use the public bathroom. This was an outdoor structure, with three stalls for women. Each stall had a light above it, green signifying empty and red signifying occupied. I went into an empty one and was immediately confused by the glistening floor. Is it wet? Or is the shine an effect of the blue ceramic tiles? Took a chance and put my bag down. </div><div><br /></div><div>On my right was a silver touch pad on which there was a button I had to press to lock my bathroom stall. I pressed it and voila! Locked my door and turned on the red light outside. Genius. Did my thing, went to wash my hands. But this was no ordinary sink. No. This thing had three separate holes. On the left, an automatic soap dispenser. In the center, an automatic faucet. And on the right, an automatic hand dryer. So. Frickin. Cool. And this from a girl who has gone to the bathroom in at least fifteen different countries. And then, to exit, I had to push the button on the silver pad again which a) opened the door and b) flushed the toilet. AMAZING. I know. I sang its praises so much that Maria decided to give it a try. Haha. </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay. On to the actual town. First was the Office of Tourism, where we got a map that outlined the most efficient walk to take through the town so as to see its cutest and most historic buildings. But we decided to walk up to the cathedral first, stopping several times along the way to take a ton of pictures (you would have too--this place was uber cute!!). </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVajrttlw-m1Qnp32VR-L8ALm9cQplyDumoKjIj5tjFkxI9yyB8kQ7W_i0JfFoyB4RhxriWXGDp5qfrlYZQf55XWytBgfqRHXUNy6bY86RG-GNtH7x5LhZI3AkZ2WdDQAQ_yNJbYz7-zaY/s1600/Chartres+010.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVajrttlw-m1Qnp32VR-L8ALm9cQplyDumoKjIj5tjFkxI9yyB8kQ7W_i0JfFoyB4RhxriWXGDp5qfrlYZQf55XWytBgfqRHXUNy6bY86RG-GNtH7x5LhZI3AkZ2WdDQAQ_yNJbYz7-zaY/s320/Chartres+010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496802852611569458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>We get to the cathedral and see that it's being renovated at the front, so the effect of the facade is lost on us. Still, the main attraction is inside. We go inside to find that we've walked into Sunday Mass. Um, okay. So we found some chairs, sat down, and listened to the sermon (which Maria and I actually understood almost all of). At one point the priest asked the congregation to pray for "those who have walked into the cathedral simply to witness its attraction but have not felt the power within." Maria turned to me and said, "They're praying for us!!" Haha. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QalMrBLGbrz0ZG8qDWnGuFjQ20W6FfW0apZxsf0XghBj6gqE3DTY61IOEZ4yEKF00Mzi8aO_Y4_dljxyHcoz1fF486sfABSFpkutjgfro0nln90IGybRKFE4LQ-_f04bETODy4rydVzG/s1600/Chartres+013.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QalMrBLGbrz0ZG8qDWnGuFjQ20W6FfW0apZxsf0XghBj6gqE3DTY61IOEZ4yEKF00Mzi8aO_Y4_dljxyHcoz1fF486sfABSFpkutjgfro0nln90IGybRKFE4LQ-_f04bETODy4rydVzG/s320/Chartres+013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496806437490884386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>After Mass, we walked around a bit and discovered more photo ops, in the cathedral's garden, a museum just next to it, and the many, many steps leading up to the several entrances to the building. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66am-aNUN7kRgllghqnBSPBwb1qgtXdfq9fwjUuUhvvf_ru-_9maiernHr7GKshoQwjB-rEn2Wop6PdCJ2E-5UAU-QBtSKSMamRHViAzkc92-J88OID_G-iV01wJo5INlqDAGY6vp8PZj/s1600/Chartres+021.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66am-aNUN7kRgllghqnBSPBwb1qgtXdfq9fwjUuUhvvf_ru-_9maiernHr7GKshoQwjB-rEn2Wop6PdCJ2E-5UAU-QBtSKSMamRHViAzkc92-J88OID_G-iV01wJo5INlqDAGY6vp8PZj/s320/Chartres+021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496807572672239586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zR2ys5jt1S1PTgq_Ad_f0EI3y4x76m7C2gL7qXqRJaCx1hMeH4zamuNmTsfZjIYZeex4cNypimzBiUkLAfOoln6CV8kocEvXYDJo8dRpnkq3zWfk2zt7CqpmIDR5sTzeedwfEUvfrij7/s1600/Chartres+028.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zR2ys5jt1S1PTgq_Ad_f0EI3y4x76m7C2gL7qXqRJaCx1hMeH4zamuNmTsfZjIYZeex4cNypimzBiUkLAfOoln6CV8kocEvXYDJo8dRpnkq3zWfk2zt7CqpmIDR5sTzeedwfEUvfrij7/s320/Chartres+028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496808425476775906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxQTbP407bJGk2keLwz5qKjKCAhclRAjmKjxbXLhx6BUDAcydZYib25WQHLaP-5cRzFA8qR_WafHdJ5CjfA0iRR0g2Zr1H6xWHNhWhFsQ-q41jKG8SyDxPVijJKre6BajhlY8OLpddiY7/s1600/Chartres+031.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxQTbP407bJGk2keLwz5qKjKCAhclRAjmKjxbXLhx6BUDAcydZYib25WQHLaP-5cRzFA8qR_WafHdJ5CjfA0iRR0g2Zr1H6xWHNhWhFsQ-q41jKG8SyDxPVijJKre6BajhlY8OLpddiY7/s320/Chartres+031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496808818204976546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Okay that's enough. The album is on Picasa. Afterwards, we went looking for tour information (Maria really wanted to have a guided visit by some random English man who came here 40 years ago to do research, ended up staying, and now gives very entertaining tours; alas, it was his day off). Bought tickets for the French guided tour at 3pm and decided to use our time to eat lunch and take a walk through the town. Tried to have lunch in the gardens by a tree but were covered in a tiny tiny bugs within seconds. So we left and had a walking lunch, then went on our walk through the empty, empty, very adorable town, guided by the highlighted route in our tourist brochure. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nswnXk-LuVVxLuioooMuvkoSRZ5lnOpWyEa_709nIeUL1Jk1sYq4AaSvSN6T47_X9BcR0WsJ9cfnm9SQPDVlUMPmcy9Yomx8tkisMIKTK6Lo_xAOImsfD0QE-ktg6Wlbn80h2KCb18kp/s1600/Chartres+058.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5nswnXk-LuVVxLuioooMuvkoSRZ5lnOpWyEa_709nIeUL1Jk1sYq4AaSvSN6T47_X9BcR0WsJ9cfnm9SQPDVlUMPmcy9Yomx8tkisMIKTK6Lo_xAOImsfD0QE-ktg6Wlbn80h2KCb18kp/s320/Chartres+058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496809833769089890" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvEIZ2xfClSSPvQrPkON6efPzMUXxYy0UojrndWwQOvKFgKoQwOOu9UxwadQmMbVBW1WnBfYnvdkvkWVkQzrfdyAYean6d8KAdFTCGDuKpBUr-U3XUQpZH_HjowmpvgV5s2s29Kn8PVBq/s1600/Chartres+079.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAvEIZ2xfClSSPvQrPkON6efPzMUXxYy0UojrndWwQOvKFgKoQwOOu9UxwadQmMbVBW1WnBfYnvdkvkWVkQzrfdyAYean6d8KAdFTCGDuKpBUr-U3XUQpZH_HjowmpvgV5s2s29Kn8PVBq/s320/Chartres+079.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496810181895731154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>We also found several more churches...how many churches does a tiny town need, really? </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZPNURfrtpkQ_0gMPEaE4rkpIpcwp5w57R91FxVBf9M9vZieNtLacysjB5pjNXZ426fCOU6zrZ3dwU3vrbOxPvh07m2fW9u0ABsldrsdAAFysoJGRf4-bR9V_EkTpLmfn6lrUAbf32daH/s1600/Chartres+062.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZPNURfrtpkQ_0gMPEaE4rkpIpcwp5w57R91FxVBf9M9vZieNtLacysjB5pjNXZ426fCOU6zrZ3dwU3vrbOxPvh07m2fW9u0ABsldrsdAAFysoJGRf4-bR9V_EkTpLmfn6lrUAbf32daH/s320/Chartres+062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496810734381049634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>And another one: </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZGM2FmERI5ErgLbWdIuUXT4vkyFq9DEMvOb0Xpi0NaUAcYl3Q0ERo2C8GQezFRLCisZGohQUEn1v2CFQ6ihHqzyzYqNZoYtSQdHh1zoFPYhwnOBgvBMsw6OH0Pc5yLolZMwSnr9QkZJK/s1600/Chartres+076.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZGM2FmERI5ErgLbWdIuUXT4vkyFq9DEMvOb0Xpi0NaUAcYl3Q0ERo2C8GQezFRLCisZGohQUEn1v2CFQ6ihHqzyzYqNZoYtSQdHh1zoFPYhwnOBgvBMsw6OH0Pc5yLolZMwSnr9QkZJK/s320/Chartres+076.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496811155840585954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>There was more cuteness, but that is for the web album. Finally, we walked back up to the cathedral for our guided tour. And man, did it last a while. The guide just kept talking and talking and talking. And the cathedral was even bigger than I thought! We just kept finding random nooks and crannies and small praying areas that I had not seen. Every sculpture, window and column had a story. It was a very long tour. As I said, the place is magnificent but I was not able to capture its magnificence on film, as there is basically no lighting inside. Sorry! Just imagine beauty. Or Google the cathedral. My apologies. </div><div><br /></div><div>After the tour, we sat in on an organ concert. Beautiful ambiance, lots of somber audience members, very grandiose music. I started falling asleep, so within 10 minutes I left. Isabel had gone to explore the crypts and towers when we went to the organ concert so she met up with us twenty minutes later. At this point, I had already secured a very cheap location to get a drink, sandwich and dessert for only 6,50. I got my much-needed meal (with some fabulous coconut and raspberry sorbet, I might add) and Maria got a baguette and we were back on the train, back to Paris. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLkxW4E6w7LnPLMjxA82JaaIUu1Uh3J0iS-MtR3dmX56W83bgyDGrSwT-OP4vrB0_6BjMETqpbS7p9kzTNM-rvd12BtTAkNXw2z1LHtMqevr8QSMTBaglryutq5n7ofNWE1hI5_zFbD90/s1600/Chartres+085.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLkxW4E6w7LnPLMjxA82JaaIUu1Uh3J0iS-MtR3dmX56W83bgyDGrSwT-OP4vrB0_6BjMETqpbS7p9kzTNM-rvd12BtTAkNXw2z1LHtMqevr8QSMTBaglryutq5n7ofNWE1hI5_zFbD90/s320/Chartres+085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496813410744840658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And that was my Sunday. Sorry it took so long to post. I have to actually work, you know. And go do more interesting things so that I can capture you all with my stories. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow: Louvre, pt 1 and Lunch with an Alum, pt 2.</div><div><br /></div><div>A demain! </div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-74745550119348696392010-07-20T16:29:00.002-04:002010-07-20T16:36:56.509-04:00Week 2 Recap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoy2RWIBlW0wgeeWwCK9mklaNw80ODNwribisXkL7AC4jVEnWEC9bOt69ehTYllGg_d-dN5CalYxW0VhYUVVUWryWhqtm5p6DERcy_3lzl0a59zF_127ehAUHg24oA1gpcRg2zgh3ncJO/s1600/Chartres+029.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoy2RWIBlW0wgeeWwCK9mklaNw80ODNwribisXkL7AC4jVEnWEC9bOt69ehTYllGg_d-dN5CalYxW0VhYUVVUWryWhqtm5p6DERcy_3lzl0a59zF_127ehAUHg24oA1gpcRg2zgh3ncJO/s320/Chartres+029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496088557003069890" /></a><br />(for Daddy) <div><br /></div><div>1. Went out several nights in a row. Had a picnic at night by the Seine and was bored. Went to a Fireman's Ball and was bored. </div><div><br /></div><div>2. Went to the Bastille Day military parade and was soaked. All I saw were planes. Had dinner at a very cute cafe. Went to the fireworks show at the Eiffel Tower and was amazed. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Went to Les Galeries Lafayettes and was blown away by this gorgeous, huge huge HUGE shopping establishment, full of designer clothing, accessories, home goods and more. </div><div><br /></div><div>4. Did not go on bike tour for fear of rain. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Went to London. Was confused by English accents. Saw basically almost all of the important places in a very short time span. Met up with two old friends. Ate non-English food. Slept on the Eurostar. Got mistaken for a French native. Didn't really see the Changing of the Guard. Took lots and lots of pictures. </div><div><br /></div><div>6. Went to a cute little sleepy French touristy town named Chartres, famous for its beautiful cathedral. Saw some really adorable sights. Was blown away by the scenery as well as every single church (how many do you need for a small town?). The main attraction, the Notre Dame de Chartres: the most beautiful and the largest church I have ever seen. More on that to come tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Disgusting gourmet marshmallow update</i>: had my third on Saturday. Tasted like toothpaste and chalk. Had another one last night (yes, I am hopeful): tasted like nothing, a vast improvement from tasting like crap. </div><div><br /></div><div>Until tomorrow! </div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-13441443372426317502010-07-19T13:28:00.023-04:002010-07-20T06:55:50.941-04:00Was that even in English?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6egGFk70B4MnA-M-n5fOIYiy7QngteUtNGYALrgNoHChHm8_nkPYik3XCdR1CbXguJ0cUR5weyfUHrMbeAHR9Rkg96BC3X_bwyH17G2vVXJpZ0olR620UMaR2RG0T9eayFR-JMPiqcNq-/s1600/London+Town+049.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6egGFk70B4MnA-M-n5fOIYiy7QngteUtNGYALrgNoHChHm8_nkPYik3XCdR1CbXguJ0cUR5weyfUHrMbeAHR9Rkg96BC3X_bwyH17G2vVXJpZ0olR620UMaR2RG0T9eayFR-JMPiqcNq-/s320/London+Town+049.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495940365883643266" /></a>So, a long, long post (perhaps even TWO posts) about my fabulous weekend. Starting with Saturday morning.<br /><div><br /><div>Woke up at 4:30, stressed that I wouldn't wake up in time to get to Gare du Nord at 6:30am for my 7:15am Eurostar to London-St. Pancras International. Went to go take a shower and the lights in the shower short-circuited. Perfect. Had to go to another floor's showers. Got into this new shower, undressed and all, only to find that I had half a shower door. Just getting better. Showered, dressed, hair-combed, tooth-brushed, went downstairs to have breakfast (at about 5:45 now). Took a swig of my soy milk from the carton, only to find it to be the consistency of cream. Delightful. Had to throw half a carton of milk down the sink. Thankfully, I had enough <i>pain de brioche au raisin</i> to last me for breakfast (as well as an apple). </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Took a metro (filled with mostly non-seedy people...really just people who had partied too much Friday night) to Gare de L'Est where I switched lines and go to the HUGE Gare du Nord. Navigated through the station to find the international departures, filled out an immigration card, passed security/customs and finally boarded my Eurostar car. That train was freakin' packed. I was super tired so despite the beautiful hills of Northern France rolling past my windows, I took a nice 2-hour nap. </div><div><br /></div><div>Reached London and stepped out of the Eurostar. Immediately cold. At least it wasn't raining. Made my way out to the Arrivals terminal and who was waiting for me? My old friend Adam! I was absolutely delighted to see him. Haven't seen him in about two years, so that was a really nice reunion. If you want to know, this is Adam: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqqFzyC8yAO7SwDHufQYzl74QV33-gQIceEIkNVrCzenJFin1rRsRfB7bKCAcgXhuFnyHEGrij0DSRYIHVidR5F_GhJ7zfkqw7byNNeLrLkdJCyoRb9hCEpUSPxLWmqAse_D_ydilkPy6/s1600/London+Town+029.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqqFzyC8yAO7SwDHufQYzl74QV33-gQIceEIkNVrCzenJFin1rRsRfB7bKCAcgXhuFnyHEGrij0DSRYIHVidR5F_GhJ7zfkqw7byNNeLrLkdJCyoRb9hCEpUSPxLWmqAse_D_ydilkPy6/s320/London+Town+029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495672879572328370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>Yes, beautiful. So we took the Tube (vastly more comfortable than the Parisian metro) to Piccadilly Circus, where we found a ridiculous-looking souvenir kiosk where a man was selling tickets for The Original Tour, London's best hop-on, hop-off sightseeing tour by bus. We bought a couple of tickets, found the nearest stop and hopped on the bus. Sat on the top and toured London for about an hour on the bus, taking pictures of one old building after another (that was basically the extent of Adam's commentary on his hometown--"I don't know what that is. An old building?" Or maybe that's just what it sounded like. Impossible to tell through that British accent). We passed a whole lot of neat sites but ended up getting off at St. James Park, from where we then had to walk all the way to Buckingham Palace, already packed with people for the Changing of the Guard. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhjYO18Hj5tAWhK_fF-3d6H4VK_tydEVLUPXsfOpcw_Sb-IC5PPb88WLBEzsRXSn-bgfAszRjsTkflGaV4Nhs9JfzNSLaFyPJB2Bt_QCfvVi2qIzbzWpHoC774nPeqSEObV2Uw87h63Iu/s1600/London+Town+026.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhjYO18Hj5tAWhK_fF-3d6H4VK_tydEVLUPXsfOpcw_Sb-IC5PPb88WLBEzsRXSn-bgfAszRjsTkflGaV4Nhs9JfzNSLaFyPJB2Bt_QCfvVi2qIzbzWpHoC774nPeqSEObV2Uw87h63Iu/s320/London+Town+026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495674164746971618" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Being small, I pushed my way to the front of a crowd blocked off by rails but, as we were not next to the gates leading into the courtyard, we saw none of the actual 'changing,' just people marching in and out in funny-looking guard uniforms. Some woman commented, "What good traveling pair! She fits anywhere and you're so tall" about me and Adam, as I had handed him my camera and he was taking pictures from his much-higher vantage point (he's about 6'3"..where do I find these tall friends???). </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2UjywerRopB_UF1AE6UE43ootrpSXXFf50ZixPchtaW96v5abmE9fo9D4xQM7FpvpnvJwiaTgzeGqPgxLQygUS4ZeTz3h29wGhsBIhHaitZDrR0C1ON5KeKLGUrVqVBJUe5uLIHy_r3k/s1600/London+Town+033.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc2UjywerRopB_UF1AE6UE43ootrpSXXFf50ZixPchtaW96v5abmE9fo9D4xQM7FpvpnvJwiaTgzeGqPgxLQygUS4ZeTz3h29wGhsBIhHaitZDrR0C1ON5KeKLGUrVqVBJUe5uLIHy_r3k/s320/London+Town+033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495674517936213442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, we got bored after about an hour or so of standing around and seeing nothing so we peaced and walked towards Hyde Park Corner, where we intended to meet Spencer (another friend from Harvard Summer Program, which is where I met Adam). We got there and waited for about twenty minutes or so for a very-lost Spencer to arrive. Adam got lazy and sat down, but I demanded we take pictures. (Me in front of Wellington Arch)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_MWCTCH72toKtnHqD_0PE-qYjbB4FUxk9udBmIXevtJb4Ba-JdoJyjrHEjUfbZ6fxWmmZ-ln35Bi7IPnHxX8EdxAXOXGgwinGQzMBq2XTe4ON15vak5msCZwOlHWP7XdDjy1Q3jvFvtl/s1600/London+Town+038.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_MWCTCH72toKtnHqD_0PE-qYjbB4FUxk9udBmIXevtJb4Ba-JdoJyjrHEjUfbZ6fxWmmZ-ln35Bi7IPnHxX8EdxAXOXGgwinGQzMBq2XTe4ON15vak5msCZwOlHWP7XdDjy1Q3jvFvtl/s320/London+Town+038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495674938160151282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Spencer finally found us, and we started off on a long trek to Brompton Road, which is apparently the only place to eat in London (not really, but it seemed that way). We ate at some random sandwich eatery and all I had was a Moroccan falafel, which took just as long for me to eat as it took the boys to each eat several meals (or so it seemed to me). Incidentally, we happened to be eating right across from Harrod's (a huge and famous department store, as well as the only place in London nearly as photographed as the Buckingham Palace). So, of course, we took pictures. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJShA5h6b1e-XdEpC5lK_GEbHrbC9rsGiDfQYdlA2Rg8DDotYorE0hm4q7BfQdlvJbeXXMAcSAKIHz3z927XBCBBhSotjgFOuKtLlcCtGMlrHIlP73CdrMJL71u3E21-eOOb-tsWvLf-E/s1600/London+Town+039.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJShA5h6b1e-XdEpC5lK_GEbHrbC9rsGiDfQYdlA2Rg8DDotYorE0hm4q7BfQdlvJbeXXMAcSAKIHz3z927XBCBBhSotjgFOuKtLlcCtGMlrHIlP73CdrMJL71u3E21-eOOb-tsWvLf-E/s320/London+Town+039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495675679211579858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div>Adam, that jerk, squatted for every picture he was in with me. Should have slapped him. </div><div>Didn't. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGWgdeJnehQTwZR3lSGsLKEKEWJY7Gez4fj__df57SPitpPGyLqGyH_hNLd83O2jEtXpt4TbATX62WGQ0EmP2PL_EXzL3kPVX1CcLjynAbYLrnBfZjRA9bDBCMoKuBFhsOQV0I7rjXnJh/s1600/London+Town+042.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGWgdeJnehQTwZR3lSGsLKEKEWJY7Gez4fj__df57SPitpPGyLqGyH_hNLd83O2jEtXpt4TbATX62WGQ0EmP2PL_EXzL3kPVX1CcLjynAbYLrnBfZjRA9bDBCMoKuBFhsOQV0I7rjXnJh/s320/London+Town+042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495675946637913362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Then, we were off! To find Spencer tour bus tickets and to get on at the nearest bus stop. Once on the bus, the rest of the day was basically touring, finding places to get off and take pictures in groups of two. Marble Arch: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15vb89KAm2GrG4C30BDnh7VgxObchiS4QVUwW9_UD4OLDsgKdVJm_gAIUDBxkVN5fjdm0w14GdG3lVtmR5iBi5a7x_LJgPccOWEzwn0RG9QqZ_MzDGTvkWGCnTyL6Wi_POVYf7KF58Gg0/s1600/London+Town+054.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh15vb89KAm2GrG4C30BDnh7VgxObchiS4QVUwW9_UD4OLDsgKdVJm_gAIUDBxkVN5fjdm0w14GdG3lVtmR5iBi5a7x_LJgPccOWEzwn0RG9QqZ_MzDGTvkWGCnTyL6Wi_POVYf7KF58Gg0/s320/London+Town+054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495676360904218146" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Buckingham Palace: </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KLojtuyRekxSvSWrjktHcllozoXzspFKHvyUUYFBjCymTqK3l_Whyphenhyphen0adhzSuccbGVT5Xj_AohhvKf-gQSwhAf-yYUl7-iIcQ5dOUFdDNPdHdb2JLebce6nJNRMJB_ZbYhwYetoTQf8uI/s1600/London+Town+060.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KLojtuyRekxSvSWrjktHcllozoXzspFKHvyUUYFBjCymTqK3l_Whyphenhyphen0adhzSuccbGVT5Xj_AohhvKf-gQSwhAf-yYUl7-iIcQ5dOUFdDNPdHdb2JLebce6nJNRMJB_ZbYhwYetoTQf8uI/s320/London+Town+060.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495676681159242898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;">Memorial statue thing in front of Buckingham Palace:</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XE9vupyC4EFw4agdZaJn8zCIE_2F9OJ89g32ext7wv5M4KnrK-mlqVwZxEy1tOQFBhqfk30zp6Yh-PjAOM1RrXojAWRui6ptekT3jINLK_XrfG1TyruIW70w2dwGouGxiAWMQsJuXB70/s1600/London+Town+063.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XE9vupyC4EFw4agdZaJn8zCIE_2F9OJ89g32ext7wv5M4KnrK-mlqVwZxEy1tOQFBhqfk30zp6Yh-PjAOM1RrXojAWRui6ptekT3jINLK_XrfG1TyruIW70w2dwGouGxiAWMQsJuXB70/s320/London+Town+063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495676975550031330" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;">London Parliament building:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Bc-4XkQphqFgRh_0iIuXe2ZeHVwjlYnDLv7Ww0IHDkdZmXAzWHWfS1VP8E5sd_K9CpKT-IRVLh6gMeDD1SE72-CWz2b2u7e1BP-M0KIyE1vH-aII9BHVxbecoWAdA6Kfz5YHS6FscTe_/s1600/London+Town+078.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Bc-4XkQphqFgRh_0iIuXe2ZeHVwjlYnDLv7Ww0IHDkdZmXAzWHWfS1VP8E5sd_K9CpKT-IRVLh6gMeDD1SE72-CWz2b2u7e1BP-M0KIyE1vH-aII9BHVxbecoWAdA6Kfz5YHS6FscTe_/s320/London+Town+078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495677337965792242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Westminster Abbey: </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUi4ZTu8ySNqDmrWX65vg8WxytkDh5i-fYtEl3gPV_RKtDyJAieKA1XCgMjOLBraqoWQz9LoTYTmILAJ8Io6Nh1jndB5qamRRrvgVLeGtoXuVNxXI8SGYr1PEgeFJ9nPLfxmpQ_-CDfBq7/s1600/London+Town+089.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUi4ZTu8ySNqDmrWX65vg8WxytkDh5i-fYtEl3gPV_RKtDyJAieKA1XCgMjOLBraqoWQz9LoTYTmILAJ8Io6Nh1jndB5qamRRrvgVLeGtoXuVNxXI8SGYr1PEgeFJ9nPLfxmpQ_-CDfBq7/s320/London+Town+089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495677675030156786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5o-JJOqLY9uiO02TI7rlSl3KUTKZ_QmaDtQW0JiS6vC6f97R1bcHpqeT4sxxoJesp_7iBA4uE7Ymgb_HDc02traCNgnAMNiVAi-7dHUCb7lEsdZPZFS5vgIHuE9dshNHEdgPYpidv9CEt/s1600/London+Town+099.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5o-JJOqLY9uiO02TI7rlSl3KUTKZ_QmaDtQW0JiS6vC6f97R1bcHpqeT4sxxoJesp_7iBA4uE7Ymgb_HDc02traCNgnAMNiVAi-7dHUCb7lEsdZPZFS5vgIHuE9dshNHEdgPYpidv9CEt/s320/London+Town+099.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495678929885017218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Big Ben: </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsCWWbsCLtkkhVXxPLcdRkd78N3wRjkKYZu8aARdO2JfUx-mCf87A2CDXgDcGF7XqRqnCCXAgpRiFl3hyphenhyphenGAzxIrbcDUlZ3XgowAlpIS10wN_PF3pNHmz5LtscJwsu4gPMHmIrA6UUvIs2/s1600/London+Town+104.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsCWWbsCLtkkhVXxPLcdRkd78N3wRjkKYZu8aARdO2JfUx-mCf87A2CDXgDcGF7XqRqnCCXAgpRiFl3hyphenhyphenGAzxIrbcDUlZ3XgowAlpIS10wN_PF3pNHmz5LtscJwsu4gPMHmIrA6UUvIs2/s320/London+Town+104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495678241200142962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>London Eye (and some bridge..Westminster Bridge?): </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTDLg8xl2J56GEPebMArVyx6lad7iS6fnRU46_3AOA1S9rNh_vwI1DYyZTPIikN4bLO9-C_j-NNZP0Y5J3lz2WVz66mUG2XniZZPhFpV1de9nsMQBp_XqGOpJ3QI45jIgUY-XMXqsUsBz/s1600/London+Town+111.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTDLg8xl2J56GEPebMArVyx6lad7iS6fnRU46_3AOA1S9rNh_vwI1DYyZTPIikN4bLO9-C_j-NNZP0Y5J3lz2WVz66mUG2XniZZPhFpV1de9nsMQBp_XqGOpJ3QI45jIgUY-XMXqsUsBz/s320/London+Town+111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495679296890731666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>St. Paul's Cathedral (where Diana and Charles got married): </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU5STnPoyF0bcHjaa_Jw1hO7gYYGbxiZObzhsAQ7oMsck5Q2d658ty6-Yu10KvKqh_nxB44adP5I8NAnxzouLT35L5S_Roe2-adsQhn39kJ_Oy9nuWOV9WWXTmgJjLkOl_4Ai-82SVIW9/s1600/London+Town+131.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU5STnPoyF0bcHjaa_Jw1hO7gYYGbxiZObzhsAQ7oMsck5Q2d658ty6-Yu10KvKqh_nxB44adP5I8NAnxzouLT35L5S_Roe2-adsQhn39kJ_Oy9nuWOV9WWXTmgJjLkOl_4Ai-82SVIW9/s320/London+Town+131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495680204916492482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-vyo6qU4VoD49bnCF5phl5dJe5ERQhcUKR1_q7QJQTZVIFsHtl0al36lwIcypardNWeB0HqUep7ROmwG_ik5rBi5RdXwxilZjd0uaqhsnOhySIg3kc1b8cVKWDM0s6EDXH_QtIDOklw5/s1600/London+Town+138.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-vyo6qU4VoD49bnCF5phl5dJe5ERQhcUKR1_q7QJQTZVIFsHtl0al36lwIcypardNWeB0HqUep7ROmwG_ik5rBi5RdXwxilZjd0uaqhsnOhySIg3kc1b8cVKWDM0s6EDXH_QtIDOklw5/s320/London+Town+138.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495680569081618530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>London Bridge: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LuwZhuh7vJKN7E8HJtR-VbHwsQ3D-VSXnIXHQ39hMPxpfGu6E7vrGkKA6hnDqIuLH7vWliZMnTjvoLjj6nUsN2tif6_xZXjekvG1hKIJF5qgG-ORJbBqUmRnsnr5WyQsc_bDtGujyoui/s1600/London+Town+149.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1LuwZhuh7vJKN7E8HJtR-VbHwsQ3D-VSXnIXHQ39hMPxpfGu6E7vrGkKA6hnDqIuLH7vWliZMnTjvoLjj6nUsN2tif6_xZXjekvG1hKIJF5qgG-ORJbBqUmRnsnr5WyQsc_bDtGujyoui/s320/London+Town+149.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495680918856908594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>London Tower: (incredibly incredibly old castle/fortress, now holds the crown jewels)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2A_hFSoiYlo9GA0gUInaEeM6-_I8HRGiW_IetLCf2Fyg5w_BVkcNZZtWI5aL_LewdQbO37SA4VJ9JhMiuJbCiltG-yfv9JjyGEf8i-BW2q43mQ3FLUGW0rPcBt9k-B6ZwQCAG0qVnQ-Mh/s1600/London+Town+155.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2A_hFSoiYlo9GA0gUInaEeM6-_I8HRGiW_IetLCf2Fyg5w_BVkcNZZtWI5aL_LewdQbO37SA4VJ9JhMiuJbCiltG-yfv9JjyGEf8i-BW2q43mQ3FLUGW0rPcBt9k-B6ZwQCAG0qVnQ-Mh/s320/London+Town+155.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495681565645033586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>And me in an English telephone booth: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYtO1ipqBbvdToI6qgSMNrnJlkIAFD3TAhl30RN5sQgYkicctWzT2SmEKuGu4wMJ_7mEjqJMSHrkyr-FoINO6dsCAGEfqjT-tG5NCsGd7ppl9M2VZ5CnBlxHRBE8cpLrFvgn8CaCfJlw9/s1600/London+Town+045.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDYtO1ipqBbvdToI6qgSMNrnJlkIAFD3TAhl30RN5sQgYkicctWzT2SmEKuGu4wMJ_7mEjqJMSHrkyr-FoINO6dsCAGEfqjT-tG5NCsGd7ppl9M2VZ5CnBlxHRBE8cpLrFvgn8CaCfJlw9/s320/London+Town+045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495682235170757618" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div>So at about 4:30, our tour ended (sadly) and I took a very early Tube (several Tubes in fact...got lost) to get to the train station about 1.5 hours early. Boredom. Bought a sandwich and a hot chocolate. (Also, tried to pay in Euros, French currency, for the hot chocolate and the cashier had to call over her French-speaking co-worker to speak to me, thinking I preferred speaking French...LOL) Took another nap on the Eurostar. Took the far-less-complicated Parisian metro back to the Foyer, had a yogurt and voila! Went to bed. Such was my night.</div><div><br /></div><div>Blog post about Chartres to come. </div><div><br /></div><div>Also, update about tonight: went shopping for a bathing suit and sunglasses. Bought fabulous <i>Galeries Lafayettes <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">sunglasses for 20 Euros. Also, while shopping, bought a </span>pain aux raisins. </i>Yes, two pastries in one day. Means no pastries until Friday. Sigh me. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-69292351696175055892010-07-19T07:17:00.005-04:002010-07-19T08:25:46.408-04:00Quick Update about French Life<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://rlv.zcache.com/i_love_paris_postcard-p239212140864886893qibm_400.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 333px;" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/i_love_paris_postcard-p239212140864886893qibm_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div>So tonight I will update about my wonderful, fabulous, exciting weekend in London/Chartres (and also post a recap of my last week for Daddy) but right now, I thought I'd talk a little a bit about some interesting tidbits about Parisian life...<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Clothing must be below the knee.</span></span></li><li>Your groceries will not be bagged for you. Bag them yourself. </li><li>The Parisian metro is the most convenient transportation system ever. </li><li>Sun rises at 6. Sets at 10. (What the hell????) </li><li>Every five steps you take is another place to eat. </li><li>Coffee after lunch. COFFEE RIGHT AFTER LUNCH. Practically mandatory. </li><li>Do not buy the artisan marshmallows. DO NOT. </li><li>French pastries: bread with chocolate and other tasty goods. </li><li>French meringue: basically cream.</li><li>French baguettes: the best thing you will ever get for 43 cents. </li><li>French boutiques: no. Robbery. </li><li>American chains in France: no. Heart attack. </li><li>French coffee: small cups. No milk/cream. Lots and lots of sugar. </li><li>French breakfast: bread and jam, bread and jam. Bread and Nutella if you're lucky. </li><li>French snack food is gourmet snack food. </li><li>Parisian bathrooms are in no way high-end. </li><li>Don't try to drive through the streets of Paris. Definitely don't try to park on the streets of Paris. </li><li>Paris at 6am? Alive. Paris at 11pm? Jumping. </li><li>French people hate working. Most stores are not open on Sunday. Many (if not all) stores have specific days during which they are open (like the bakery down the street from me, which is only open Thursday-Sunday. sigh.) Lunch breaks are (legit) two hours long. </li></ol><div><i>Pastry update: </i>Had a <i>petit pain choco pistache </i>this morning for .50 Euros. So so good. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That's all for now. Expect a long, long post later tonight! Also, check your emails. All my photos are now online! </div></div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-48622004075958064382010-07-15T15:01:00.006-04:002010-07-15T15:30:25.058-04:00Une nuit avec de beaux pompiers<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N0kLAtRLV5lB7RWQrBkoShIeVvmc1bYSYk-DFuCRuMZ_HKDcPcFLqO4AnAoG0-gqPHEvfMjOSXWnil6rMo42vyw6AJfEh89VsahyCo4uF9yE00_7OofvyyNnbbYj5ZhtK2uUAvyvhsQS/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+068.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N0kLAtRLV5lB7RWQrBkoShIeVvmc1bYSYk-DFuCRuMZ_HKDcPcFLqO4AnAoG0-gqPHEvfMjOSXWnil6rMo42vyw6AJfEh89VsahyCo4uF9yE00_7OofvyyNnbbYj5ZhtK2uUAvyvhsQS/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494210715323095874" /></a>So it's been a few days, but it's been an exciting few nights so I'm here to tell you all about it.<div><br /><div>Monday night, I was planning on staying in and perhaps reading or streaming online tv, when I met a few girls from the foyer in the common room. They told me they had plans to go out with friends and friends of friends later on that night to have a picnic by the Seine and invited me along. It was a beautiful night so I willingly obliged and went out with them for a couple of hours later that night. </div><div><br /></div><div>The night was gorgeous, Paris was all lit up, we could see the strobe lights from the Eiffel Tower, the bridges were teeming with tourists, music was playing. It was very nice. Also met people from England, Spain, Russia, Norway, Belgium...and two Princetonians! What are the chances? Apparently Paris is simply teeming with Princetonians. After a couple of hours though, a friend of mine and I decided to go in search of food and got back to our rooms no later than midnight after a quick stroll through our neighborhood from an open creperie (there were none). </div><div><br /></div><div>Tuesday night was the <i>veille de quatorze juillet</i>, which means the eve of 14th July, in essence France's Independence Day. So there were parties all over the city. There was a concert happening at the Bastille, which was free and apparently full to the brim with people, but there were also dances happening at fireman's houses all over the city. So a couple of my friends and I hopped on the metro and rode on over to the 13th for a dance. We were pretty early and it was pretty dry when we got there. After about half an hour of sitting around chatting, we decided to get up and dance. For about an hour and half, we enjoyed ourselves. Then we decided we were a) bored, b) annoyed that the firemen were not dancing and c) tired. The music was pretty terrible anyway, so we left very early (about 11:45pm) and, unfortunately, got back to the foyer several hours before we had planned. </div><div>In a way, this was good, as I had to be up at 6:30 the next morning to get to the parade at Les Champs Elysees with fellow Princetonian Maria and her friend (Harvard student) Pamina). </div><div><br /></div><div>We got to the Champs Elysees and walked several blocks (everything was blocked off) before finally finding pretty terrible standing room. I'm small as it is, so you can understand that I basically saw nothing. Pamina luckily had a connection at the Ministry of Defense who got her prime seats (she even got to meet Sarkozy and Carla Bruni!!! SO jealous). Maria and I and everyone else in the huge dense crowd waited several hours before the parade finally started with some men and horses. Then stopped. Then some men in uniform with flags. Then more nothing. Then finally planes flew overhead. With red, white and blue streaks in their wake. That was my favorite part. Except for when it started pouring rain. Wonderful. We, of course, had not thought to bring umbrellas. So we hid under a tree for a couple of minutes before decided to brave the rain and find the nearest metro home. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKMencgOrMLHygoGknuFZZRSbKITLE_f0KEIbZDyPzbwWsShJWY9n0eLM7pMlHlS0W6p0bpo7g6JBj3kS-TdT55Rea8eciiw5hHP7h9UfU0fZH89Ilul8fAx6KFbrMg1tLSZpVL6pDtdJ/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+004.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKMencgOrMLHygoGknuFZZRSbKITLE_f0KEIbZDyPzbwWsShJWY9n0eLM7pMlHlS0W6p0bpo7g6JBj3kS-TdT55Rea8eciiw5hHP7h9UfU0fZH89Ilul8fAx6KFbrMg1tLSZpVL6pDtdJ/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494215702046197138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Chocolate pastry update: seeking shelter from the rain, and salvage for my hungry hungry body, ducked into a great boulangerie and bought <i>pain au chocolat</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once home, I washed all the dirt off my feet and took a nice nap while it continued to pour outside. At around 6:30pm, Maria and Pamina and I went out for dinner to a very nice cafe very close to where I work. Like all waiters in Paris, our waiter here also decided to tease me endlessly. Sigh. Dinner was absolutely magnificent, and not as expensive as I would think. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYZeW1o2vpRP5_Ggp2mkGj_tUZ_EZbO0d2vtL_61TGj5bGSDl5YJnRPOcSQLuPhPo2ncDZ29r9axnhztjxfcSg37cKwYqEJuC2Baj0PIsWvh5g-yLZ_tCnQmoGe9SKIeWRYtqovVU0fCl/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+044.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWYZeW1o2vpRP5_Ggp2mkGj_tUZ_EZbO0d2vtL_61TGj5bGSDl5YJnRPOcSQLuPhPo2ncDZ29r9axnhztjxfcSg37cKwYqEJuC2Baj0PIsWvh5g-yLZ_tCnQmoGe9SKIeWRYtqovVU0fCl/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+044.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494216149238479426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>We finished by 8 and took the metro to Champ de Mars, the field right in front of the Eiffel Tower. That thing is huge. We found a nice, cold but dry clearing in the grass to sit on but decided we did not want to be cold for three hours while waiting for the <i>feux d'artifices. </i>So we took a walk to find me some hot chocolate (I was quite cold) and Pamina some crepes. At that point, Maria decided she wasn't feeling well and went home (<i>quel dommage!</i>). Pamina found cheap crepes and we found a nice cafe to shelter us from the cold and bring us some <i>cafe au lait. </i>I swear, <i>cafe au lait</i> will suck all my money away this trip. So expensive. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYd9pcDkWS43765ZJ6kG6pqZHSaPvUw_qEa2u7_3zkI9XLDrM0fSCu4XyjyYBml-3YbD7Q-N1wyUez5tIbqkPrDsJpIL0Rpfzthxah7165L7aHLS1RrYUoUxfDZvQIRoFRnpHI6hoi6SF/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+065.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHYd9pcDkWS43765ZJ6kG6pqZHSaPvUw_qEa2u7_3zkI9XLDrM0fSCu4XyjyYBml-3YbD7Q-N1wyUez5tIbqkPrDsJpIL0Rpfzthxah7165L7aHLS1RrYUoUxfDZvQIRoFRnpHI6hoi6SF/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+065.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494216469215797234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 199px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Pamina and I chatted and monitored the ever-increasing cigarette-purchasing line in the <i>tabac</i> right next to us until about 10:30pm when a mad rush of people started walking towards the Eiffel Tower. We quickly finished up and grabbed our stuff and joined them. Thankfully, we're small, and squeezed through the crowd until we found a pretty decent viewing area. The Eiffel Tower was lit up and sparkling and simply magnificent. But that was nothing in comparison to the fireworks in conjunction with the backdrop. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15.6px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZApD2gS0E6QVokKxSJQhQKL0mIBaUrZOOMQo5qjgJWoVtbplvkGKZ1iqDhdjLQRQDT71tadXudDpp23awL-QLhUsWtl1l9fZchG_JTLXJilkxoOX5m2y7iGc4Q92EoR3t6uZ-KyUOe34/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+080.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZApD2gS0E6QVokKxSJQhQKL0mIBaUrZOOMQo5qjgJWoVtbplvkGKZ1iqDhdjLQRQDT71tadXudDpp23awL-QLhUsWtl1l9fZchG_JTLXJilkxoOX5m2y7iGc4Q92EoR3t6uZ-KyUOe34/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494216974185756626" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Oh. My. God. I've never seen anything that beautiful. Fireworks and French music and the Eiffel Tower. Just amazing. So so epic. It just made warm inside to see something that gorgeous. It was the perfect end to a great day. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.6px; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJoNHhzCnzWlgB5hFlEyIH3XQMF5iobgWGLK33toqy46dB5qhkpkeNIwrdPEK9MD3Uw8COHupShAiJUYK4DAk6N174crSMDOcQaYxGLlrWruUCNAQRAlyN75_bpBo5EWY14AWq2ss1Pqi/s1600/Paris+Bastille+Day+094.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJoNHhzCnzWlgB5hFlEyIH3XQMF5iobgWGLK33toqy46dB5qhkpkeNIwrdPEK9MD3Uw8COHupShAiJUYK4DAk6N174crSMDOcQaYxGLlrWruUCNAQRAlyN75_bpBo5EWY14AWq2ss1Pqi/s320/Paris+Bastille+Day+094.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494217428386530578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 266px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Today actually was also pretty great. I finished work early so I peaced out and went to <i>Les Galeries Lafayettes, </i>(the biggest designer department store I will ever see) with my roommate. So many nice clothes and bags and shoes and jewelry and oh my! Even the place itself is gorgeous. It's seven floors and simply magnificent on the interior. Kind of like every shopper's heaven. </div><div><br /></div><div>So that's my update. (Also, I spent about $11 today on handmade artisan marshmallows...one of which I tasted earlier and found to taste like nailpolish. Sigh. Hopefully the other seven flavors I bought taste better.) </div><div><br /></div><div>Until tomorrow! (Bike tour. Finally) </div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-74978646442363833332010-07-12T14:14:00.021-04:002010-07-12T18:01:47.074-04:00View from the Top and Domaine de Versailles<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36ps8FTyYNXSUu1ogHaFDj_SlIFKjZJT9_BA8LoVO6g1dA7kFzEnUNPS_JQMzmihSVA5zJOIkrhhadJ9v1ByjufxU8BxABncSzPscNHcedHBF2YSMXM6Dqoey0AmgY8wqaOYhtzS1iJbW/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+072.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi36ps8FTyYNXSUu1ogHaFDj_SlIFKjZJT9_BA8LoVO6g1dA7kFzEnUNPS_JQMzmihSVA5zJOIkrhhadJ9v1ByjufxU8BxABncSzPscNHcedHBF2YSMXM6Dqoey0AmgY8wqaOYhtzS1iJbW/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493086016151344754" /></a>Okay, on to the Notre Dame. Even at 9, there was a long line. Thankfully, during the summer it doesn't close until 11pm (probably so people actually have a chance to see Paris in the dark, as opposed to in perpetual sun). The line moved pretty quickly and, before we knew it, we were climbing the never-ending, slowly-tightening staircase. When you thought it was over, nope! There was more. Stairs that went forever and ever and ever. How did the monks ever get up there? I thought my legs were going to fall off. <div><br /></div><div>Finally, we get to the top. We can see basically all of Paris, as well as the famed Notre Dame gargoyles and several beautiful parts of the Notre Dame that we could not see from the bottom. Huge arches and columns and overall amazing architecture. </div><div><br /></div><div>A few pictures follow: </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTH9G-WTfSX6xe7zQ_FGgqcCTlRfH-hLRESNx_KmZXIhbDceCdQVrAY-GN2EsRpl99iZypsie5HaQAdwl38VVvy5TyApMIBJucPKr9_duBMMZ7QO38x_MB61AUrThWZWTtMkUPiQQv-jx/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+039.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTH9G-WTfSX6xe7zQ_FGgqcCTlRfH-hLRESNx_KmZXIhbDceCdQVrAY-GN2EsRpl99iZypsie5HaQAdwl38VVvy5TyApMIBJucPKr9_duBMMZ7QO38x_MB61AUrThWZWTtMkUPiQQv-jx/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493086836837898482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVvHknBHWetx_lkSx4oqPo4ekrLQPalaPfE-AWP-hIodct4yweShsy04VTEuGi14dVELOXQLo4mt8Ol95qR_J1ql9ntxotdV7W2-OXmGZ3XVsovUsxMOqy9VOBYBYIJp_bKpJMbnqQ6cc/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+033.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIVvHknBHWetx_lkSx4oqPo4ekrLQPalaPfE-AWP-hIodct4yweShsy04VTEuGi14dVELOXQLo4mt8Ol95qR_J1ql9ntxotdV7W2-OXmGZ3XVsovUsxMOqy9VOBYBYIJp_bKpJMbnqQ6cc/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493089498086551490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, we thought that was it. But when we tried to go down, there was a huge crowd in front of us. Confused, Joy conjectured that it was a tour group. We pushed through and, at the top of the stairs, a man demanded if we were going up or down. Up? I thought. And then sad. <i>Il y a plus en haut? </i>So Joy and I turned around and got in line to go up more flights of stairs. Even tighter this time. I swear, this stairs were made to kill. </div><div><br /></div><div>But so so worth it. The view at the top is just incredible. Its a tight squeeze, with the wire framing and all those people. Very small viewing deck. But very very nice. The wind, the sunset, th view. Picturesque at its utmost. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8VD1KB5FNcGzwM87UrhGxsp8E-nN2_hCEeSptcFVySjKjBR-aVDHSRLoxC7-4bnCYcrVf319Zs1-Zllcado2tUjO-iM83LQ-2w3TrtX5cX7Na3FL4VO15g2vywCcsWTv4GSoBpoKPTpZ/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+071.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY8VD1KB5FNcGzwM87UrhGxsp8E-nN2_hCEeSptcFVySjKjBR-aVDHSRLoxC7-4bnCYcrVf319Zs1-Zllcado2tUjO-iM83LQ-2w3TrtX5cX7Na3FL4VO15g2vywCcsWTv4GSoBpoKPTpZ/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+071.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493090606330239858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>We also saw the famous Notre Dame bell. Not very interesting. But very large. Very old. </div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, we had to leave. The stairs down: much faster, much easier. I was supremely gross from the long day of walking so I took a quick shower and that was it for the day!!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">6 Euros for a bottle of water??</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">Really quick entry about Versailles, because now I'm getting behind on my posts. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Took the metro to a mutual meeting point where I finally met up with a fellow rising sophomore at Princeton. We had made no plans about how we would found each other but, using some fabulous Princeton logic and common sense, managed to find each other in the crowd and board the <i>train de grand vitesse </i>to Versailles Rive Gauche. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">Got there and there was already a huge line for tickets. Tourists, I swear. Waited an hour and a half in the heat. (Thankfully, only until 1pm; we got there early enough so our flesh didn't melt off our faces) Finally got tickets and went inside. I swear this place is made of gold. HUGE. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64u7yX5obUeVkXW359_mTpYpBH0b8RRzQzkHKn0xRHu8XE8MESbV631AZffByhu37FODQuCMEDQ5MzIQzpf23ppxUYSolOG8wWcQNiUbyuSXqUEAnQMKdrwHjJidetBgURJWEz72gdpZD/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+008.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64u7yX5obUeVkXW359_mTpYpBH0b8RRzQzkHKn0xRHu8XE8MESbV631AZffByhu37FODQuCMEDQ5MzIQzpf23ppxUYSolOG8wWcQNiUbyuSXqUEAnQMKdrwHjJidetBgURJWEz72gdpZD/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493135910986224434" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">We saw a bunch of unimportant rooms, tons of galleries of art, a chapel and a few ridiculously ornate bedrooms. One thing of note in Versailles: the ceilings. Every single ceiling is ridiculously lavish, decorated with paintings and gilded carvings and the like. Examples: </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLR7steYWZPAF2sZwv-PSCu6wTP-VLoCxniKjKRyWnyB21AddLVz5cphUoukpPQR_zuLvEBC7YWJnZDMZrtWUIpHNh2-9XRDJcKjIYXn7JxAGlvb-Q0_CfO0HCCyYwfQkkI228H3i7cmY/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+037.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLR7steYWZPAF2sZwv-PSCu6wTP-VLoCxniKjKRyWnyB21AddLVz5cphUoukpPQR_zuLvEBC7YWJnZDMZrtWUIpHNh2-9XRDJcKjIYXn7JxAGlvb-Q0_CfO0HCCyYwfQkkI228H3i7cmY/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493136353035548402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe8ggdUgMdoRFLzrTfkj0EHjfhfxxwzwCtDIaPC-wLeFiJ_4WXc1RvcnEUxAE_L_Jxwvy1DiCsjjX7Coa4nArCS0X-uOWBW87VTTAzDEC99UzL9IatZLF1U0mhWYlfMkD56TiYUqurQER/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+040.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAe8ggdUgMdoRFLzrTfkj0EHjfhfxxwzwCtDIaPC-wLeFiJ_4WXc1RvcnEUxAE_L_Jxwvy1DiCsjjX7Coa4nArCS0X-uOWBW87VTTAzDEC99UzL9IatZLF1U0mhWYlfMkD56TiYUqurQER/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493136996831359138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrIRdrQYwxCpyF5ZmQDnUGdGzUmfRshGPp8TkC3bmmH73MY0GfihGnPGtmxn13ltHlaKWa93Nyc9IyJ-iruJiQm3aQpy-jnOKhzSZC5TbkaHy2V2Z1ap11Lwo7kAlDJz-8JGIteGyjP_J/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+045.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrIRdrQYwxCpyF5ZmQDnUGdGzUmfRshGPp8TkC3bmmH73MY0GfihGnPGtmxn13ltHlaKWa93Nyc9IyJ-iruJiQm3aQpy-jnOKhzSZC5TbkaHy2V2Z1ap11Lwo7kAlDJz-8JGIteGyjP_J/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493137461074829634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My favorite room in the Chateau: Galeries des Glace. Hallway of mirrors. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mnAa6LNdB8HW_WhSJXaQiwYdYHSVhERKa8neAgsSt46Uxl4IcaFKOFO6d2JP7KXfM9Wh9b0S9DWSX3ewaGEHdo3Zhv1Qxg6KT1XmlUAj6vmAgvETz3yNFNbjZ9ZXhoI9rZoHZXlScdSO/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+051.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mnAa6LNdB8HW_WhSJXaQiwYdYHSVhERKa8neAgsSt46Uxl4IcaFKOFO6d2JP7KXfM9Wh9b0S9DWSX3ewaGEHdo3Zhv1Qxg6KT1XmlUAj6vmAgvETz3yNFNbjZ9ZXhoI9rZoHZXlScdSO/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493138457888082306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">After exiting the Chateau, we went straight to the gardens. The gardens are enormous. They stretch forever. And have a fountain about every 10m.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKoCXIns-riThRiIXBMYXZ0JKw-WCw_vDLNRmz7TQG2s0NsS0IdaOu2JSzZ7NBUs8SG7YQLg7qbXyhkeZZKS7Hkq5QT3DIYTUi-t6JvfsWkJ_Tv2-yZ5H9n98Vf9AUdq_Xu4s9BKum7Qd/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+076.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwKoCXIns-riThRiIXBMYXZ0JKw-WCw_vDLNRmz7TQG2s0NsS0IdaOu2JSzZ7NBUs8SG7YQLg7qbXyhkeZZKS7Hkq5QT3DIYTUi-t6JvfsWkJ_Tv2-yZ5H9n98Vf9AUdq_Xu4s9BKum7Qd/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+076.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493139232239698642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">We found a little cafe in a maze (there are lots) and all I bought was a perrier because a) I thought I was about to die of thirst and b) I was too excited to be hungry. Also had a big breakfast. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxIF6AFacHTXlbYZtPl4CEhlw6vbp8Iwp7RAvYL7bdGJfauOSfxTO6O6zSaijmxyKpzZwbl5KPaQTm_OsSrXL_V4fJ853ErzBuT1HrI41RSg6N8V3Rri1Y_ZhJGheNJSKpmUVQ__ftNqj/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+106.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxIF6AFacHTXlbYZtPl4CEhlw6vbp8Iwp7RAvYL7bdGJfauOSfxTO6O6zSaijmxyKpzZwbl5KPaQTm_OsSrXL_V4fJ853ErzBuT1HrI41RSg6N8V3Rri1Y_ZhJGheNJSKpmUVQ__ftNqj/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+106.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493139727429158770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">Onwards: after walking around a bit more, we saw the Grandes Eaux Spectacle, which sounds really great, but is really only them turning the fountains on. Woopee. So Rebecca (the girl with me) left to go meet up with her friends and I left the gardens to go see the rest of Versailles (like I said, it stretches FOREVER). I realized that I would pass out if I tried to walk through the rest of the land so I found a bike rental stand! BEST IDEA EVER. Biking through Versailles: beautiful, carefree, <i>inexprimable</i>. It was so nice to be in the shade, zipping through the trees, passing along the picnicers, stopping only where I wanted. The people even gave me a kids bike after I very shamefacedly asked for one. (What?? I'm small...) </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfkv9DRVmMhQKB8TGDBvCbC8gXTssFnx_wNCWEbEXsHIduPzR_d4ha5eagtQ_HlEs1p44y_qGguW0comXbn4fto_OC5QhjDldX1FO_Y-VrspfocvAF0cZ9NyrN-XeEFPKCRV656fbuHrA/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+117.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGfkv9DRVmMhQKB8TGDBvCbC8gXTssFnx_wNCWEbEXsHIduPzR_d4ha5eagtQ_HlEs1p44y_qGguW0comXbn4fto_OC5QhjDldX1FO_Y-VrspfocvAF0cZ9NyrN-XeEFPKCRV656fbuHrA/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+117.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493140197197272818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">Saw <i>Le Grille de Neptune. </i>More fountains. Realized that all you need to do is speak French or English to ask some random passerby to take your picture. If they speak neither, motioning with a camera in your hand and a big smile on your face will usually do the trick. Tourists are quick to catch on. And they will demand the same favor in return. It's only fair. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6A_73IM-XUbvF9_WYtC_LwWBmC06f99_E6LlxFrz72PvcTCH78kuWvseJZACZFUkDbOwI8lqK5zWd1F5CNw1ELKm-yYkKEvZNR47cIrcZih0z5m6YLveIxcNpOFjX9EY-pJRsBTHRr5To/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+113.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6A_73IM-XUbvF9_WYtC_LwWBmC06f99_E6LlxFrz72PvcTCH78kuWvseJZACZFUkDbOwI8lqK5zWd1F5CNw1ELKm-yYkKEvZNR47cIrcZih0z5m6YLveIxcNpOFjX9EY-pJRsBTHRr5To/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+113.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493140750115221346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">Next: <i>Le Petit Trianon</i>, part of Marie Antoinette's estate. Also saw the jardin anglais. More fancy stuff. Nothing extraordinary (except for the fact that she had a whole space in Versailles all to herself, complete with several large castle-like structures. Unjust). Sadly, I didn't get to see the main attraction of her estate because I had to return the bike. Somehow, I managed to get back to the rental stand at exactly the time I was due. I am just amazing sometimes. Fabulous. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6eL6L9CWP7Iy3AAT9o4yOZYWDyQLIsxkWSVB-siZg3apCDGjClV9oogSXluEe-CdTpd7v5IjqvBWtVACWK8uin3tS0xGEw1IKvhyphenhyphenCkk8rJquD4IemqDKLQAewMXZq2tKU7ABXCxMGAg7/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+134.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6eL6L9CWP7Iy3AAT9o4yOZYWDyQLIsxkWSVB-siZg3apCDGjClV9oogSXluEe-CdTpd7v5IjqvBWtVACWK8uin3tS0xGEw1IKvhyphenhyphenCkk8rJquD4IemqDKLQAewMXZq2tKU7ABXCxMGAg7/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493141301478856226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;">The rest of the night was pretty crazy. Took the metro to Trocadero, where they had a huge screen set up, and hundreds of soccer fans had filled the park and the space in front of the screen to watch the match, donning yellow and red all around. I was so mad for forgetting my jersey. Crazy, loud, intense atmosphere. Thankfully, I left after halftime. Leaving after Spain had just won the World Cup would have been impossible and probably dangerous. But it was a crazy fun experience, being surrounded by all that Espana pride. Would have forgotten that I was in Paris and not Spain, had it not been for the bulwark of the Eiffel Tower in my plain sight. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vIYIuUBzabrYTbu2mzBifsTv1iK62Q8so-Km02WucovEdywktCo674VjfuNDDiiGmP_kcAkmWGVo6k-C5tDfw670HragoOQu2-bZkNn7idkjwyuPa1B7nRptL4f1T-kH7fyqMOq5Kmwj/s1600/Paris+2010+Versailles+139.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vIYIuUBzabrYTbu2mzBifsTv1iK62Q8so-Km02WucovEdywktCo674VjfuNDDiiGmP_kcAkmWGVo6k-C5tDfw670HragoOQu2-bZkNn7idkjwyuPa1B7nRptL4f1T-kH7fyqMOq5Kmwj/s320/Paris+2010+Versailles+139.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493141799734801858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">VIVA ESPANA!!</div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-79175984242405777952010-07-12T09:24:00.002-04:002010-07-12T09:33:06.574-04:00Recap of my first week(for Daddy)<div><br /></div><div>1. found the equivalent of Target: the <i>Monoprix</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>2. met my employer, found my office, and was introduced to my very tedious, very laid-back job</div><div><br /></div><div>3. went to a local bar with a Princeton grad, watched the World Cup in style</div><div><br /></div><div>4. bought a few cheap french pastries. found a famous used/new English-language bookstore called Shakespeare & Co. bought a book. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. went shopping. bought a very expensive leather designer handbag. saw the actual Sorbonne (I work at on off-campus site)</div><div><br /></div><div>6. visited Le Pantheon, Ste. Chappelle, La Conciergerie </div><div><br /></div><div>7. ate crepes by the Seine</div><div><br /></div><div>8. climbed the steps of the Notre Dame</div><div><br /></div><div>9. went to Versailles. walked through the Chateau. Biked through Marie Antoinette's domain. Saw lots and lots of fountains. </div><div><br /></div><div>10. went to Trocadero with hundreds of ESPANA fans. Saw the World Cup final in even more style, surrounded by French Spain fans and Spanish Frenchmen. </div><div><br /></div><div>Daddy, asking me to sum up my life in Paris in a few bullet points is simple cruelty. Also: details and pictures of points 8/9/10 to come. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-40944363032610406392010-07-11T17:46:00.009-04:002010-07-11T18:10:14.761-04:00Il y a plus en haut? pt. 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiES2TW_iwqZyqLrd0xK6Go4mr1LZ0Ppe99PwVQ5sxfzd9t14ZZmWQi0-RKv1IttJE4NKTdbVuubZKR4wLGfP4nNxrFDR4sacD3sF6uaQpUQMUilsdz17XofPAPaS8iU_pJwqInXIo9ZIc/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiES2TW_iwqZyqLrd0xK6Go4mr1LZ0Ppe99PwVQ5sxfzd9t14ZZmWQi0-RKv1IttJE4NKTdbVuubZKR4wLGfP4nNxrFDR4sacD3sF6uaQpUQMUilsdz17XofPAPaS8iU_pJwqInXIo9ZIc/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492774332280201970" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Today was a crazy day but first I have to finish talking about yesterday.</div><div><br /></div><div>After visiting Ste. Chappelle, Joy and I walked over to La Conciergerie which is basically connected. Like I said, the two, along with some other awesome buildings, make up the ancient courthouse/prison thing. Yes, I'm not explaining very well but it's really irrelevant. The Conciergerie also used to house armed soldiers/guards/policemen. Thousands of them. Its beautifully preserved and was very nicely constructed. The King also sometimes met there with parliament. We saw reconstructed prison cells, the women's court, the expiatory church, and the floor of the cell of Marie Antoinette. Also, a window with her seal. And two plaques commemorating her and her husband, Louis ...something. Anyway, some pictures: </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09vWwdw8Q9PYecvkAMlhWs8c0jGhijaCwpZTnbLT1TCoF4jOWQqjUpeHgJjStEdcm5bpYTAKpvOj-8htBe5yv4fPbkFSVvTJc3nPCcTl_8KIGkwvx5Teu9Wt2cxbUGme-DTC6L0AT2vAM/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+076.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09vWwdw8Q9PYecvkAMlhWs8c0jGhijaCwpZTnbLT1TCoF4jOWQqjUpeHgJjStEdcm5bpYTAKpvOj-8htBe5yv4fPbkFSVvTJc3nPCcTl_8KIGkwvx5Teu9Wt2cxbUGme-DTC6L0AT2vAM/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+076.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492769663124632930" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTSrNg-BYaym_1eemFNh8g-ZRSxUyz00MxAIm-uWmTajcGuoL9jvgfeKBB0cg_aoDzhVnNAelIUxiV6g4q6edtTP9dFb41DeVoHzVpTqo__qE5BaretcP0ZDaIKcnR9vTpaYQOmBK7_5w/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+079.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTSrNg-BYaym_1eemFNh8g-ZRSxUyz00MxAIm-uWmTajcGuoL9jvgfeKBB0cg_aoDzhVnNAelIUxiV6g4q6edtTP9dFb41DeVoHzVpTqo__qE5BaretcP0ZDaIKcnR9vTpaYQOmBK7_5w/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+079.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492770265922271970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQl2qRpzASjrLZjJaQAYnVMODRI7XccYd2wsXGpz4wVWDminbIBefTJ61a8Wyqv7cWR5JxXrc1kcvuIAwsNDZsuEMUd3fpjWmMmx50I6TUdXx4p_kzAvrLXA6yRhyphenhyphenWBSdKj7xMnUKFOvO/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+081.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQl2qRpzASjrLZjJaQAYnVMODRI7XccYd2wsXGpz4wVWDminbIBefTJ61a8Wyqv7cWR5JxXrc1kcvuIAwsNDZsuEMUd3fpjWmMmx50I6TUdXx4p_kzAvrLXA6yRhyphenhyphenWBSdKj7xMnUKFOvO/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+081.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492770830813900754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><br />Marie Antoinette's reconstructed cell: <div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y0rynOlgsT26rBf7tCEZLk5cN-BiSJmnpGut_gFu0rTXpsKtzBPGsRAmvDbyrYNRoVVEHwmT0a7KXKBJZTyMawpF_nM0V3TnoYJPaaT8kiO6Lr4AtvD0x3KfcGXMpYI66EC3FTbDywLt/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+108.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3y0rynOlgsT26rBf7tCEZLk5cN-BiSJmnpGut_gFu0rTXpsKtzBPGsRAmvDbyrYNRoVVEHwmT0a7KXKBJZTyMawpF_nM0V3TnoYJPaaT8kiO6Lr4AtvD0x3KfcGXMpYI66EC3FTbDywLt/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492771369299686418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>The last words of Maximilien Robespierre, revolutionary: </div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUbgs2p7M6L0JMBfwyIwOcm-qPl4sY5NNDLRaeekiHiQONOFWJTwc3gGNpFn755LnZixaIeyhOVjPa3mAd_wJEqcIGIaga_LfOoLwBNQnNKV4d6DHW3AwMZmY91HO7Z1GtQvOoUSqzBL6/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+115.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUbgs2p7M6L0JMBfwyIwOcm-qPl4sY5NNDLRaeekiHiQONOFWJTwc3gGNpFn755LnZixaIeyhOVjPa3mAd_wJEqcIGIaga_LfOoLwBNQnNKV4d6DHW3AwMZmY91HO7Z1GtQvOoUSqzBL6/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+115.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492772563543127426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>Okay, on to the Notre Dame.</div><div><br /></div><div>After a quick break so Lucille (from the foyer) could do a room inspection, Joy and I went out again. Saw a huge line at Notre Dame so we decided to grab some delicious delicious crepes, super cheap, by the side of the street and eat them by the Seine on the keys. Beautiful scenery. So many people. Very nice experience. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJ8n4o3s-XzOZir3aJNAw7VMJEcSCYlPNAhhP9Xnve6cAyWFVCS4Cm8A1NmZG1WhGWRhhLmqVp_BgD35VANKBETt8F7r83zXPKrgcGAF3y8HhoT32C02q9T7PESKRM74zu9NqQDa0q4A_/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+008.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrJ8n4o3s-XzOZir3aJNAw7VMJEcSCYlPNAhhP9Xnve6cAyWFVCS4Cm8A1NmZG1WhGWRhhLmqVp_BgD35VANKBETt8F7r83zXPKrgcGAF3y8HhoT32C02q9T7PESKRM74zu9NqQDa0q4A_/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492773632215847362" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrBk2shrMl0x8jKPl_OR8rgzFvnlLTZ5z1YDxjU989BHkx2ZxpYjKSqdqZFRc27BSUuYNA0Fvv-flic53lyWuGf3Ru71pHRVWqexaF4gnkO3sXspAxGZnHhd2ZpekbUJgscn5yMhkBvK6/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+021.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrBk2shrMl0x8jKPl_OR8rgzFvnlLTZ5z1YDxjU989BHkx2ZxpYjKSqdqZFRc27BSUuYNA0Fvv-flic53lyWuGf3Ru71pHRVWqexaF4gnkO3sXspAxGZnHhd2ZpekbUJgscn5yMhkBvK6/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492773881876687554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>All the boats with the tourists passing by..beautiful. Very nice place to be, Paris in the summertime. </div><div><br /></div><div>Notre Dame: tomorrow. Pritha is again very, very tired. Also: Chateau de Versailles and VIVA ESPANA!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Night. </div><div><br /></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-49450141687953985622010-07-10T17:48:00.009-04:002010-07-10T18:29:02.152-04:00Il y a plus en haut?<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><u><br /></u></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiNi2ipobPfufxg_xbW-zOvingOodAWw06NU-Z2je1TI_kT7M-FlHWVDljSMyow85lYRHOALTMC_aH2QNTN29Mc9jPA4k9cff86fkVQFdK6KXovVIPVQ8AY_IzOCtf5q-epp1z_eN_fuZ/s1600/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+052.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNiNi2ipobPfufxg_xbW-zOvingOodAWw06NU-Z2je1TI_kT7M-FlHWVDljSMyow85lYRHOALTMC_aH2QNTN29Mc9jPA4k9cff86fkVQFdK6KXovVIPVQ8AY_IzOCtf5q-epp1z_eN_fuZ/s320/Paris+2010+Notre+Dame+052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492398758191156242" /></a>So, today was a good day. <div><br /></div><div>I met up with a fellow Princetonian, named Joy, also living at the foyer, in the morning around 1030. We trekked up to the Pantheon, about a fifteen minute walk but we wandered a bit so it took a bit longer. On the upside: the wandering took us through the Rue Mouffetard farmer's market and it was magnificent. We didn't get a chance to stop because our day was packed but there was everything you could want there. Beautiful. </div><div><br /></div><div>Finally found the Pantheon, which is surrounded by two other quite large, very beautiful and old buildings. I think one of them is a school and the other is a government building but I'm not sure. In any case, the Pantheon is huge, has a beautiful dome and is covered on the inside with gigantic tableaux. It also houses the tombs of some very famous French writers, philosophers, thinkers, the like. Saw Marie Curie, Rousseau, Voltaire, Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas, etc. Beautiful tombs: </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFeBChkfDzG102XtlmI0WZFYQUKjz2MXHniVo2-KhyddhM-XumTx0S-6VkNO09hta0NrsTe4FzauimlAdcSAguriF_3YyHFjOO5u_yIHQo-BnclLunkAiDHolE5jT7_HGIajOeH90lnSf/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+013.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFeBChkfDzG102XtlmI0WZFYQUKjz2MXHniVo2-KhyddhM-XumTx0S-6VkNO09hta0NrsTe4FzauimlAdcSAguriF_3YyHFjOO5u_yIHQo-BnclLunkAiDHolE5jT7_HGIajOeH90lnSf/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492401305962309394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>(I'm the small thing in yellow/white) </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGbY7U7g0CUgZOzk6sn7tCalzrlfgI24s6VPmPfWxjoeX00UzQxoP3oVFjmyVXMNTSRBzt777QpdYC_Pb9b4UCShYQE0pBWh3g3ZfMbmmQlqgFlQl-bhkNBoCVMIO6D64bXAMedK1NBpj/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+018.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGbY7U7g0CUgZOzk6sn7tCalzrlfgI24s6VPmPfWxjoeX00UzQxoP3oVFjmyVXMNTSRBzt777QpdYC_Pb9b4UCShYQE0pBWh3g3ZfMbmmQlqgFlQl-bhkNBoCVMIO6D64bXAMedK1NBpj/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492402160607031986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ7oEV5IqWTJqiltueabXDff5_4UiSoKkTTO5ov4Z0oEK81mxHrGMM9x7_oqUMwkfF4EnvjffJ-K-GN-lnjxpbPhfRz5HCsAphB102sUzuczc9xPp0TAm1RWuKzDDLZza8ww1NTWApJQ5/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+057.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuZ7oEV5IqWTJqiltueabXDff5_4UiSoKkTTO5ov4Z0oEK81mxHrGMM9x7_oqUMwkfF4EnvjffJ-K-GN-lnjxpbPhfRz5HCsAphB102sUzuczc9xPp0TAm1RWuKzDDLZza8ww1NTWApJQ5/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492402585796075026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz7EE2eBZZ8nL6CvB1zMql8uSKHyGjV_yjbhd0NogX47sg48gsbGs5GxIWzavh2M1MD8KlaskXsW9P218ET8rmT0wBgkzqBtUvqRq8JkyPayLQgP4kMwoerxJF3WtDhbzLCpYpsuW6xMf/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+061.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisz7EE2eBZZ8nL6CvB1zMql8uSKHyGjV_yjbhd0NogX47sg48gsbGs5GxIWzavh2M1MD8KlaskXsW9P218ET8rmT0wBgkzqBtUvqRq8JkyPayLQgP4kMwoerxJF3WtDhbzLCpYpsuW6xMf/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492403347154793906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>I have a ton more pictures but they will have to wait for a Picasa album or a Facebook album. To be created soon. But, on with the day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Next stop: Ste. Chappelle, a famous cathedral that houses concerts and is currently under renovation for the stained glass windows. So, unfortunately, we didn't see it in all its glory but it was still beautiful. It's actually a part of the major courthouse/tribunal/Palais du Justice in Paris. It was ordered to be built by Saint Louis to house some piece of the passion of the Christ...not sure what that means. Whatever. It's gorgeous anyway: </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOVunZvGxroCpWckz1vCssKzihOp2a68Nk7z9n8zqF6Psn-aT92om-2AlgAYtCeS1yCjl-dbY_Ny4y3cBCKZrIYJPiaZnx89cZbsp3EsMGV-s_czuSAHiLXB0e6g-QjU8z2kJ7a9ygIaf/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+073.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOVunZvGxroCpWckz1vCssKzihOp2a68Nk7z9n8zqF6Psn-aT92om-2AlgAYtCeS1yCjl-dbY_Ny4y3cBCKZrIYJPiaZnx89cZbsp3EsMGV-s_czuSAHiLXB0e6g-QjU8z2kJ7a9ygIaf/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492404640526148210" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQd8eD3lSDzLkmeu4iRTDZ4XSF4GNS5m8_n5sa85R19MPoNqq6p22vpkT7X3OHhrjOkLZ5R0KgY3to7V6ffjEMpKG-dH7CG9ywdbZuXcXlXiNDFaxE9R0pifS6sOw4CfC98UnqOQEwEei/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+068.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQd8eD3lSDzLkmeu4iRTDZ4XSF4GNS5m8_n5sa85R19MPoNqq6p22vpkT7X3OHhrjOkLZ5R0KgY3to7V6ffjEMpKG-dH7CG9ywdbZuXcXlXiNDFaxE9R0pifS6sOw4CfC98UnqOQEwEei/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492405368934985634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHfwPgO8N63exc5YnQzn0PcK-1i8K-QEVvP9IfvVUJXo6mT-zfpi26jkkaaA7mJXmTJk5ufHA23EWUob6_2r_P0LcX489O2iyvuTY3rWeqgg-VhZpzLJZ1q4FQURLmhGw49orfRLszDz1/s1600/Paris+2010+pt+2+062.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkHfwPgO8N63exc5YnQzn0PcK-1i8K-QEVvP9IfvVUJXo6mT-zfpi26jkkaaA7mJXmTJk5ufHA23EWUob6_2r_P0LcX489O2iyvuTY3rWeqgg-VhZpzLJZ1q4FQURLmhGw49orfRLszDz1/s320/Paris+2010+pt+2+062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492406690450870786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>Well, there was a lot more to my day, but now I'm tired and must go lie down. My feet hurt like hell (which I will explain tomorrow) and it's finally a bearable climate in my room. Also: no comments, no posts. Comment!</div><div><br /></div><div>Peace out home slices. </div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-80202343570837822172010-07-09T17:10:00.003-04:002010-07-09T17:42:11.394-04:00Ne fumez que deux fois par jour...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx8ShM-1mKaKrBL2liZ4owA-Xp9F-y3ievi8HenWP2xEqOdYaBp4-7Hp-JTmibVBl0m2ygWZEnq-o_To2wlAqtNwDbCcVCjHBAo2DPNUFx54dJcEKxtuWGsgKJ7IZPyM-dv8IvGMwf4X5/s1600/fabulous+bag.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 201px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKx8ShM-1mKaKrBL2liZ4owA-Xp9F-y3ievi8HenWP2xEqOdYaBp4-7Hp-JTmibVBl0m2ygWZEnq-o_To2wlAqtNwDbCcVCjHBAo2DPNUFx54dJcEKxtuWGsgKJ7IZPyM-dv8IvGMwf4X5/s320/fabulous+bag.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492019424085260658" /></a>So I'm going to explain this bag to the left. In a few minutes. <div><br /><div>First, my day. </div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, I met my employer at La Bibliotheque Nationale de France at around 1030. She was so cute, walking extremely fast (and I know fast walking) with a rolling suitcase in her right hand and a purse on her left shoulder. Amazing how fast she was walking. I couldn't find the library at first and asked a man at a kiosk but he started joking with me and I was just so perplexed I couldn't respond coherently. Finally he realized my lacking sense of humor and simply told me how to get where I needed to go. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well I didn't see much except a dusty old reading room with a bunch of desks and offices. I ended up taking photographs of breadstamps from various angles for about two hours. Thankfully, only two hours. <i>Je croyais que je serais la pendant cinq heures</i>. I thought I was going to be there for five hours. I would have died of boredom and hunger. </div><div><br /></div><div>Afterwards, we met her friends for lunch and coffee. Really cute: the French always always always go from lunch straight to coffee. At the cantine at the Sorbonne, the cafeteria exit actually leads into a cafe with couches and really soft mod furniture. So I had a small pasta salad for lunch because she was paying and I wasn't hungry and listened to them speak for a couple of hours. At first, I enjoyed exercising my comprehension and trying to follow them. Afterwards, I started falling asleep. That was not so polite. Thankfully, at around 3pm, we left and Beatrice (my employer) showed me around the Sorbonne University. It's beautiful. Looks just like any another famous old building in France: ancient, ornate, historical, epic. </div><div><br /></div><div>Third french pastry of the week on my way back home: <i>petite brioche au chocolat</i>. Super cheap. Super good. </div><div><br /></div><div>After I got back to the foyer, I realized that I would have to go on the bike tour alone because none of my Princetonian friends wanted to go with me tonight. So I decided to save it for another night. Instead I decided to go out (I'm really restless in Paris) because a) I was bored and b) the heat is <i>insupportable au foyer. </i>Meaning, the heat is unbearable. Couldn't just stay in my room with the sun beating down at 6pm. Ridiculous. </div><div><br /></div><div>Took the metro (I'm an expert now) to Place D'Italie where there's a gigantic <i>centre commercial</i>. Walked around for a bit looking at all the stores, searching for a handbag. I've wanted a nice oversized tote for a while now and all of France is <i>en solde</i> right now, meaning sales are mandatory. So everything is discounted. That is how I went into a quasi-Macy's and found their handbag section. Spent about an hour trying to decide how much a good handbag is worth. Finally stared at the one above for about twenty minutes. Talked to a saleswoman about how I couldn't afford it, and she told me simply to smoke fewer packs in a day or eat less to make up the money. I think I will actually have to do just that. It was a good dime. (Mommy--don't ask how much. Please love me anyway.) But I needed that bag. Designer. Parisian. Beautiful. Convertible. I'm in love. It's currently locked in my closet. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I got back with my purchase and had dinner with my roommate. Ran into another Princetonian and hung out with her talking for a good while and going over plans we had already made for tomorrow. We had a really nice time getting to know each other and talking about our experiences so far in Paris. She's leaving Monday so I unfortunately won't have her to hang out with for the next few weeks. </div><div><br /></div><div>But tomorrow should be fun. We're doing Notre Dame/Ste. Chappelle/Conciergerie/Le Pantheon, all of which are right by where we live. Should be awesome. Also buying <i>crepes </i>and eating them on the <i>quais </i>by the Seine. Sounds magical already. Can't wait to see <i>L'Allemagne</i> redeem themselves tomorrow night!</div><div><br /></div><div>Woot. </div><div>I'm also sweating bullets right now. There's no place here with good wifi and breathable climate. Death. </div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-14991458460424178862010-07-09T03:22:00.003-04:002010-07-09T03:29:35.819-04:00Le Diable S'habille en Prada<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.fan-de-cinema.com/affiches/comedie/le_diable_s_habille_en_prada,0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 370px; height: 500px;" src="http://images.fan-de-cinema.com/affiches/comedie/le_diable_s_habille_en_prada,0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Apparently that ^ is how <i>The Devil Wears Prada</i>, which I watched with my roommate in French last night, translates in French. Very amusing. The characters speak quickly as it is, and the French dubbing in the movie is so fast. Very difficult to understand at times, but good practice. <div>Also good practice? Going into every store and pretending I don't speak English. Spent over an hour in the cutest, most eclectic used/new bookstore in Paris (Shakespeare & Co.) last night and pretended not to speak English when I got to the counter. The cashier spoke both but couldn't understand me and got frustrated and just started ignoring me. I still got my book. (<i>Three Cups of Tea</i>--remember, Mommy?)<br /></div><div>I took a nap after work because I was tired as could be, while waiting for my roommate so we could go get dinner. She found me sleeping and decided to let me sleep and, when I woke, I decided I wasn't hungry and would prefer to take a walk. I know it's been hot in New York and all, but it is also quite quite hot here. Rebecca keeps getting sick from the heat because she's so used to air conditioning. Which , of course, there is none of in the foyer. In any case, I wasn't hungry before my walk, but stopped by "MyBerry" (the French version of pinkberry?) and got a really tasty non-fat plain frozen yogurt with some raspberries, brownies, and coconut shavings. So good. Taking a walk along the Seine while eating yogurt and watching the sun slowly set: perfect. </div><div>Today is pretty exciting. Going to la Bibliotheque Nationale for work and then going on a Paris Night Bike Tour for four hours. Should be wonderful. I'll definitely have things to say then. </div><div>A bientot!</div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2617951846600298642.post-88922115274903250672010-07-07T04:35:00.003-04:002010-07-07T09:44:40.964-04:00The Trying French WorkplaceQuick update about my awesome job:<div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Pritha's Morning</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><ol><li>woke up, had breakfast with someone new</li><li>procrastinated until 930 online</li><li>took a walk along the Seine (yes, that is my commute to work)</li><li>went to Shaksepeare and Co. where only one woman spoke French. I pretended I didn't speak English. She directed me to her favorite cafe, as the bookstore had yet to open</li><li>found a better cafe. bought a cafe au lait and enjoyed it inside the store of INCREDIBLE SMELLING BREAD PRODUCTS. spent 4,70 € (wtf?)</li><li>walked to work. found another amazing bakery. told the woman I only had 1,30 € and she directed me to a whole shelf of products under 2€. This is how the tourists get fat: all they can afford are French pastries. bought a <i>croissant a la noix du coco</i> for 1€</li></ol><div>Also: French keyboards? super annoying. This took me forever to type. Procrastination win. Kay back to work. Love my life.</div></div></div>Pritha D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/14519901441443047954noreply@blogger.com2