Originally published at my real blog. Please leave any comments there.

Well… Paris. Certainly is a beautiful city. It’s more beautiful than London, Dublin, New York, DC, and probably San Francisco too (my memories of how it actually looks, beyond the Golden Gate, are fuzzy). The fantastically ornate buildings in London impressed me a great deal. Paris has one of these around every corner. They all use far more squiggles and dangly decorative bits than are needed. Even the apartment buildings are covered with window boxes featuring wrought iron swirly designs. There is simply not an inch of space left bare or plain. The impression it gives is one of excessive opulence.

And the food is the same. Everything is rich and creamy. I tried escargot and steak tartare for the first time. The escargot was delicious. I thought the steak was, too, but it made Josh sick that night (he ate more of it). I also sampled a croque, which is an open-face slice of bread layered with ham and cheese, then broiled, with a fried egg placed on top. Oh, and chocolate. Wayyyyy too much chocolate. I signed up for a “Taste of Paris” walking tour, thinking I’d get a whole sampling of signature foods — a baguette (people do just walk down the streets holding these), some fancy cheeses, some coffee, maybe some fresh fruits from one of the many outside stands, and some some chocolates and pastries too. My tour guide must have the largest sweet tooth in the history of women because we sampled nothing but dessert after dessert. This may be heaven for some people but it wasn’t so great for me. I couldn’t finish everything she gave us, and by the end all I wanted was one of the gorgeous avocados we kept passing! However she did take us by some pretty dwellings in the Montmartre district that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

The people, however, I have to say… sort of do live up to the reputation of being snobby. I was ready for this to not be the case. I wanted to like them, and them to like me. I read a lot of websites before going, which advised me that Parisians are more friendly if you try to learn a little of the language rather than just barging in expecting everyone to understood what you’re saying (even though most do speak english). This is the opposite from what I’ve heard before: don’t try to speak their language unless you are fluent because they will sneer at you for butchering it. Now that I’ve been there, I’m still unsure which is true. In the pressure of the moment, my choices were made by more utilitarian reasons. I found that if I started in french, the person would reply in french, and I would have no idea what they were saying. The confused look on my face would usually cause them to switch to english. I found it much easier to just start in English and avoid that weird stage. In retrospect, if I return, I will make sure to learn how to say, “I do not speak french very well,” or something along those lines, to smooth over the confused awkward moment. I did learn to say, “do you speak english?” but it felt too demanding…

Anyhow, the french are polite. Very polite. They rub the politeness on so thick. And they expect you to be the same. They’re overly sensitive to infractions. This is hard for a person who does not know the rules. I was huffed at for trying to pay a small admission fare with too large of a bill, and not knowing how to read the menu. Josh was huffed at multiple times for trying to use a credit card to pay for a cab. They all take credit cards, they just don’t like to. They will actually lie and say they don’t unless you press them (eg, by insinuating that you don’t have enough cash to add a tip). We were also scammed at a restaurant that requested an additional “american style” tip on top of the 20% service charge that is added to every bill by law. But the funniest example happened the last evening to the whole group, at a swanky restaurant in a modern art museum. We were there for 4 hours because the food was so long in coming. They had us sitting in at a u-shaped table in this special enclosure that looked like a nostril (no kidding). I was impressed when I first arrived by the shiny white table and long stem red roses.

But, the centerpiece of the room was two wide-screen tvs hanging right in front of the faces of half the table. These tvs played a video on loop of some guy creating modern art on canvas in a studio. Like he’d spend three days painting a red x on a white square, rotating it round and round to get the best perspective. Hmmmm. I think we were supposed to be inspired by this piece. And we were inspired… to great annoyance. Being the brightest, flashing thing, in a dim, placid room, it was hard to keep the eyes away from its endless repetition. It was driving some of us crazy so we requested it be turned off. The waiter had to go ask the manager of the museum if he was allowed to do this. She came over personally to tell us, no, we will not turn off the tv screens. Why? “They are part of the museum.” Wait, are these screens somehow also being projected downstairs, in the actual museum? No, these two screens, right here, in this secluded nostril of the restaurant, are part of the museum. It is an “art installation” and you watching it, is the art.

Ah, the french :).

It’s adorable now that I’m removed from it :).

Highlights: our gorgeous room in the Hotel du Louvre, the Mona Lisa, Notre Dame cathedral outside and in, a nighttime river cruise down the Seine, the Panthéon, Rodin’s “The Thinker” statue. Pictures of all this and much more are here: http://picasaweb.google.com/aubrhea/Paris
As before, I’ve added location maps to most, and comments to some, so it’s worth clicking on the thumbnails.

Non-picture highlights:

1. Having a french-only-speaking guy try to chat me up while I was out sightseeing by myself. My inability to communicate did not deter him from listing a bunch of countries until I nodded at the one I was from, pointing out the names of every street within sight, and making sure I didn’t cross the street until it was safe. Definitely an exception from the snooty category :). In fact maybe that only characterizes people in the service industry, who have to deal with us annoying tourists all the time.

2. Getting included in a couple of Josh’s many press photos. So I’m probably featured in some french newspaper/magazine right around now.

3. Getting unexpectedly upgraded to upper class on the plane ride home!

Virgin Atlantic was trying to make up for construction that was happening in a terminal of Heathrow airport that was causing confusion, chaotic redirecting, lost luggage, etc. We did not go through this terminal but got caught in the blanket of apology none the less. Well, my goodness. I thought premium economy was good. I had no idea.
I would have been perfectly happy if the flight had been twice as long. Maybe then I could have gotten a manicure in addition to my moisturizing hand massage. I watched “Into the Wild” and had to fight back tears for more reasons than I expected. Note: blog about this later. I also read a poem. In a book. Note: blog about this too.

Better end here or else I’ll go off on tangents. Viva la France!

“To live and die in the airport lounge
Is to have a glimpse of another town
You’ve got to be a child
To have such strange problems…”
-My Teenage Stride