My Bird's City - Paris

As most of you know (or should), I left behind (in very good hands) my lovebird, Parisse. I named her phonetically, as I did my parakeet Brittan who died several years ago. Parisse is a very intelligent little bird, she doesn't like people in her space, and she'll certainly let you know when she's unhappy. She loves to bang her toys around and peck the side of the cage, and if you look at her warily or perhaps annoyed from the banging, she'll return the look with a cocked head, as if to say, "yes? And what of it?".

Paris began with a three hour wait at the bus stop close to the Arc de Triomphe for my bestie Michelle. Many people stopped and asked for directions, so I got to practice my best "I have no idea" face, and assorted French expressions to match, such as "Sais pas", "Non", "Je suis touriste aussi", and "désolée". I did strike up a great conversation with a Sedonian woman who tried English first (I guess I just have that look about me?). After giving her an extra map, she shared her whole week's schedule and asked my advice on which site to leave out (I said do everything). She and her husband left, looking sympathetic at my worried face (after all, Michelle really didn't want to catch the bus...had she been kidnapped, as she warned me would happen?).

Jewels and shoes from the first shows

Luckily Michelle soon hopped off the bus and gave me a slightly hysterical hug. We then traipsed off in search of the fantabulous Moulin Rouge. I have to say a small part of me was really hoping Nicole Kidman and Ewan McGregor would be swooping around the roof, crooning to each other, but even so, it was magnificent. So were the prices for the dinner shows.

The lovelocks on the Pont des Arts

My absolute favorite thing (thanks to Marie for the suggestion), was the sweetest little bookshop I've ever seen. In the corners were little padded benches to cuddle up in, a little ladder lead upstairs, old, humorous, strange, and goofy books lined the walls. When Michelle and Gwen stared at me curiously, I knew their limit of soaking it in had been reached. I also discovered one of my favorite authors had just published a new book, so I gleefully bounced out of the shop.

If you have seen a man die at some point, always consider that the same awaits you.

My next favorite was strangely enough, the Catacombs. We waited in line for an hour, making friends with two guys from Slovakia. They agreed to protect us from any ghosts, and we began the journey down the 100+ steps to the chilly, and at times wet, undergrounds of Paris. Thousands upon thousands of skulls...leg bones...arm bones. I didn't expect the designs in the piles, however. in the walls of bones, skulls were placed to make crosses, hearts, and random other shapes. Many signs in Latin and French (I showed off my basic knowledge of both languages, perhaps why I was skipping the whole way) told us to appreciate life, to get used to death, to kiss life goodbye, that heaven was waiting (or hell), that we had no hope, that we must hope...you name it.

And a close third was Notre Dame Cathedral. Fortunately, we walked through during a mass service, and were able to enjoy the stained glass and ceilings and ancient confessional closets with lovely singing and French readings.

Loved the gargoyles, gotta admit..

The Louvre was...triangular. The Mona Lisa was...anticlimactic. But I fell in love with the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Honestly, halfway through our visit of the Louvre, I was just looking for a bed. Even the marble benches were beginning to look like pillows...












After a couple days, our feet were screaming, "stop", but we ignored them and on the last evening, were accompanied by the lovely Gwen up to the top of the Tour Eiffel.

View from behind the Wall of Peace