Ancient porn is now art.
– Libby's accurate description of the grand artworks at the Louvre.
This is our last day in Paris (sob). It is a free day as far as our tour is concerned, so after a breakfast that may or may not have consisted of a considerable quantity of crepes, croissants and cakes, we metro to the Louvre.
The trick is to get there early, and use one of the side entrances. The line is not very long, and once inside, we follow the map straight to see our friend Mona. It's sad, but I take one photo and one selfie before I'm shoved out of the way. Oh well. After this disappointing affair, Libby and I pick an area of interest each to see at the Louvre. Libby picks sculptures, and I pick Egyptian. It is so odd, I am a graphic designer, but art history bores me like nothing else. I try to give the museum my best shot, but the amount of people, the amount of walking, my broken audio guide . . . it's just insane, and neither of us enjoys the museum. It is time to leave.
It has started raining by this time, and I haven't got a jacket, an umbrella, or a rain coat on me. I need not have worried, however, because as soon as it starts raining, hawkers selling umbrellas pop out of nowhere. We take a few photos outside the Louvre, and then metro to Champs-Élysées.
Now it's raining even harder, and we walk the entirety of the avenue as quickly as we can. The plan is to warm up inside Galaries Lafayette, but . . . it is Sunday, and we find out that Galaries is closed. Wop wop. We metro around and end up behind the Notre Dame.
It is drizzling now, and I am outside this gorgeous building covered in wisteria, on this little cobbled street in Paris. And then the bells at the Notre Dame start ringing. I have a moment. One of those unexplainable, beautiful moments that make you want to weep. I don't want to leave this city.
But leave we must, as we're supposed to meet our tour group at the Eiffel Tower for a picnic. Then, we happen to go across the front of the Notre Dame with a negligible entry line. Hallelujah! Goodbye picnic, hello Notre Dame! I feel very small inside the huge cathedral, and it smells of incense. People light candles and pray. There is a Sunday service on, and a smiling elderly chap with missing teeth comes to shake my hand after the service.
Later that evening, we walk along the Seine and find Shakespeare and Co., a well known bookshop. It's a quirky place, but we are not allowed to take photographs. Inside the bookshop, it is cramped, but cosy. Upstairs, there's a little nook with a typewriter, where people have left all sorts of sweet notes. There's also a little area for the Book Club. In another alcove, a father is reading a book to his child. Someone starts playing the piano. Gosh, I can spend hours here.
Outside, there's an alleyway that we see a few restaurants in, so we follow it but I'm not hungry and Libby ends up getting McDonalds (oh, the blasphemy!). We rush back to our hotel as it's getting dark, and pack our suitcases as we watch The Amazing Spiderman in French.
The whole day, we explore without a map, following our instincts and letting the streets of Paris lead us around. We are not disappointed.
– Libby's accurate description of the grand artworks at the Louvre.
This is our last day in Paris (sob). It is a free day as far as our tour is concerned, so after a breakfast that may or may not have consisted of a considerable quantity of crepes, croissants and cakes, we metro to the Louvre.
The trick is to get there early, and use one of the side entrances. The line is not very long, and once inside, we follow the map straight to see our friend Mona. It's sad, but I take one photo and one selfie before I'm shoved out of the way. Oh well. After this disappointing affair, Libby and I pick an area of interest each to see at the Louvre. Libby picks sculptures, and I pick Egyptian. It is so odd, I am a graphic designer, but art history bores me like nothing else. I try to give the museum my best shot, but the amount of people, the amount of walking, my broken audio guide . . . it's just insane, and neither of us enjoys the museum. It is time to leave.
It has started raining by this time, and I haven't got a jacket, an umbrella, or a rain coat on me. I need not have worried, however, because as soon as it starts raining, hawkers selling umbrellas pop out of nowhere. We take a few photos outside the Louvre, and then metro to Champs-Élysées.
Now it's raining even harder, and we walk the entirety of the avenue as quickly as we can. The plan is to warm up inside Galaries Lafayette, but . . . it is Sunday, and we find out that Galaries is closed. Wop wop. We metro around and end up behind the Notre Dame.
It is drizzling now, and I am outside this gorgeous building covered in wisteria, on this little cobbled street in Paris. And then the bells at the Notre Dame start ringing. I have a moment. One of those unexplainable, beautiful moments that make you want to weep. I don't want to leave this city.
But leave we must, as we're supposed to meet our tour group at the Eiffel Tower for a picnic. Then, we happen to go across the front of the Notre Dame with a negligible entry line. Hallelujah! Goodbye picnic, hello Notre Dame! I feel very small inside the huge cathedral, and it smells of incense. People light candles and pray. There is a Sunday service on, and a smiling elderly chap with missing teeth comes to shake my hand after the service.
Later that evening, we walk along the Seine and find Shakespeare and Co., a well known bookshop. It's a quirky place, but we are not allowed to take photographs. Inside the bookshop, it is cramped, but cosy. Upstairs, there's a little nook with a typewriter, where people have left all sorts of sweet notes. There's also a little area for the Book Club. In another alcove, a father is reading a book to his child. Someone starts playing the piano. Gosh, I can spend hours here.
Outside, there's an alleyway that we see a few restaurants in, so we follow it but I'm not hungry and Libby ends up getting McDonalds (oh, the blasphemy!). We rush back to our hotel as it's getting dark, and pack our suitcases as we watch The Amazing Spiderman in French.
The whole day, we explore without a map, following our instincts and letting the streets of Paris lead us around. We are not disappointed.
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