*disclaimer* a portion of photos refuse to rotate- tilting your head to the left a few times will be necessary to obtain a proper view.I arrived in Paris oh so tired- but surprise! Guess who's here??? My favorite frenchie, Ines! And with her is our amigo Nate- from Texas! We took this group shot that I couldn't resist posting. God I love being a tourist.
The day that I decided to do a lot of stuff in Paris didn't begin with the smoothest morning. i filled up my water bottle- ran outside to catch up with the walking tour- took a sip of my water- it was boiling. i should have put a tea bag in it. that's how hot it was. then when we get to the first stop on the tour i look into my bag and a packet of butter has exploded all over it. (please don't ask me why there was a packet of butter inside of my purse.) it's everywhere- sunglasses, wallet, lip gloss, and even in the shutter of my camera. i don't want to talk about it too much, but i found some way too close to my eye later on in the afternoon.
things started to look up when i heard the story of the original FB. check it:
there was this king (who has a name- but i can't remember it) who was having a fiesta where he and all of his friends got super wasted. the king then had a `bloody brilliant` idea and summoned sculptors to make statues of all of his wastey friends. and then put them on this bridge.
how is this the original FB?
FB is the bridge.
and now i put this on the blog. because it's already on FB.
I went to bed sending off positive vibes that the next morning would be a much more delightful experience. Well... The French will be French. It's 7:30am and all I can hear are those stupid horns being blown- the ones like in the world cup. I'm thinking- oh it must be the neighbors revenge. It's possible we were a little loud last night. They're making a point- lesson learned- can't last longer than 15 min. So naive. So wrong. 45 min later I go downstairs to see it's the janitorial staff of the hostel. And guess what? They were on strike! Surprise!! Not even French citizens- they didn't even speak French! And guess what they wanted... A free meal with every shift that they worked!!
Good. God.
Obviously I needed to get out of there mas rapido. I decided to play one of my favorite games- get lost for fun! And boy howdy did I. I also made it a point to stop by pere lachaise cemetary (which is beautiful)- at no later than 10:30am I turn the corner to Jim morrison's (of 'the doors') grave and I am welcomed by a cloud of pot smoke, shots of Bourbon, and a champagne toast to Jim himself. There was even a quite older couple crammed in there having a cheese and baguette picnic. On his actual grave there were a fee joints laid down and bottles of booze. I'm thinking: illegal. But a guard told me this happens everyday all day. There are even regulars who visit the grave at least once a week.
This night we went from being incredibly French to incredibly American. Well I was the only American... So Canadian and Australian. It began as a quiet evening eating a bomb baguette with stinky/yummy cheese and drinking red wine while sitting by the seine river. Just like the locals! And it ended with the most outrageous game of kings I've ever played.
In a nutshell- kings is a drinking card game. Each card has a rule to it. Ex- 6= chicks. So ladies drink. Or 3= me. And that person drinks. One of the best cards is the 'rule maker' card, this person gets to make a new rule. Ex- if you touch your hair you have to drink. Someone thought it would be fun to have 6 different new rule cards this night. So by the end of the night if you wanted (or needed) to drink, this is how it went:
1. Slap your face with your left hand
2. Make an animal sound
3. Drink
4. Stand up and curtsy
5. While curtsying say "thank you, wolfie."
(yes, there was a Canadian there named wolfie. Real life.)
The next day (eventually) I made the journey out to the catacombs. Forever away- in the 1700s-ish the French were running out if burial space with all of the plagues running around and killing people. So the remains of 6 million people were dug up and delivered at night by a full brigade of priests to this old rock quarry. So creepy.
See how creeped out I am?
I also went on a walk through Montmartre- home of the moulin rouge, many locations were 'amile' was filmed, and also once where Picasso and van gough used to live. Now home of the 'bobo'. A French term used which means the 'bohemian bourgeoisie'. The super rich and young something who wants to live the artists lifestyle. But with a lot of money. And not be an artist themselves. A term I believe is becoming relevant in ausin... hmmm...
The best of all paris was the night bike tour.
1. We got to ride bikes in Paris. (like the Parisian. And all other tourists.)
2. Paris at night is no words can describe beautiful. When the Eiffel tour sparkles, you can't help but go "ohh! ahh!"
3. Ended with a boat tour on the Seine.
4. Free wine on that boat.
5. The ride back to the garage after that free wine on the boat.
I hadn't ridden a bike in over a year- since that one time I thought it would be fun to ride 50 something miles in the Texas hill country. I started off a bit shaky- like stopping. But it was just like.. Riding a bike!
Cruzin' through the louvre at sunset.
I have to mention part of a conversation that I had with some Australians while in Paris.
Aussie question: Erin, I've been wanting to ask you this for a few days now- but I don't want to offend you. But I just can't take it anymore. (suspense) Do you have a 'Bubba' in your family???
To sum up the situation I simply described to her a scenario that likely occurs at my mothers family reunions.
Mama: Have you seen Bubba?
Me: Your Bubba? or Carl bubba? Or his kid Kyle bubba? Or my bubba?
Jaws dropped!
I've been thinking a lot about how things will be when I get back to Texas. Having this amazing experience and being the person that I want to be- I feel like I am confident to bring this all back to the 'real world'. Not saying that I want to go home- I'm just getting more and more excited/anxious to see how life will unfold!!
But somethings just don't change. Like how much people annoy me. I'm sitting on a bench in a park with 20 other open benches. And Right now at the very second I wrote that paragraph some asshole has to sit down right next to me and eat his lunch- smacking so hard I can't even see straight! Were you raised in a dang barn?!!?!
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