Our week in Paris has been eye opening to say the least. We were warned, in advance, about the French. About their rudeness. Their lack of patience. Their hatred of tourists.
We were warned. And we thought we were prepared. But we really weren't.
Because the people of Paris were amazing! We expected grumpy Frenchies refusing to speak to us in English, yelling hard-to-understand French abuses at us that we'd still clearly understand in the universal language of intonation and rude gestures.
But the French were lovely, giggling politely at our terrible French accents (mostly Sarah's, lets be honest) using sign language as a way to communicate with us if they couldn't speak English, and answering us in English if they could. Clearly hearing us butcher our way through their beautiful language was more insulting than having to speak English themselves.
And thank God cause I didn't understood much of what they said. Sixth form French was a long time ago.
Paris je t'aime.
And then there was Mona. What is it about that girl? She's old. She's flat. And she just kind of stares at you. But my God she's amazing. In a way I can never describe, seeing Mona in the 'flesh' was one of the highlights of my life. I love her.
We were warned. And we thought we were prepared. But we really weren't.
Because the people of Paris were amazing! We expected grumpy Frenchies refusing to speak to us in English, yelling hard-to-understand French abuses at us that we'd still clearly understand in the universal language of intonation and rude gestures.
But the French were lovely, giggling politely at our terrible French accents (mostly Sarah's, lets be honest) using sign language as a way to communicate with us if they couldn't speak English, and answering us in English if they could. Clearly hearing us butcher our way through their beautiful language was more insulting than having to speak English themselves.
And thank God cause I didn't understood much of what they said. Sixth form French was a long time ago.
Paris je t'aime.
And then there was Mona. What is it about that girl? She's old. She's flat. And she just kind of stares at you. But my God she's amazing. In a way I can never describe, seeing Mona in the 'flesh' was one of the highlights of my life. I love her.
The Louvre itself was incredible. There are so many works of art just jumbled together on walls, in room after room, that we were both overwhelmed. You really need a few days in that place to really absorb all it's awesomeness. I, for one, want to live there. I could totally set myslef up in Napoleon's ridiculous apartment with 3 metre tall chandeliers and more gold embossed furniture than is really decent. I would have to get a new bed though. That guy was really short.
We also climbed to the tippy tippy top of La Tour Eiffel, and though the climb up the 7556 steps (that's what it felt like okay?) almost killed me, I was delighted to see they offer glasses of champagne at the summit for the thirsty.
Not water. Not juice. Not snacks. Just champagne. You can see why I really like the French.
We also went to Disneyland Paris. It was average, avoid it. Notre Dame. It was beautiful, but no hunchbacks in sight (apart from some of the tourists). Dali Museum? Check. Montmartre? Check. Arc de Triomphe? Check.
But maybe my favourite thing (apart from standing before the unnerving gaze of Mona) was going down into the Catacombs hidden underneath the city. About 6 million Parisians are interred there, their bones put together in a macabre sort of decorative wallpaper for tourists to view. And none of it was behind glass, you could just reach out and touch the bones. If I had wanted, I could have stolen a skull.
I didn't.
But I could have.
So thank you Paris for a wonderful time in your beautiful city! I'm even starting to forgive you for the €8 pints.
Not water. Not juice. Not snacks. Just champagne. You can see why I really like the French.
We also went to Disneyland Paris. It was average, avoid it. Notre Dame. It was beautiful, but no hunchbacks in sight (apart from some of the tourists). Dali Museum? Check. Montmartre? Check. Arc de Triomphe? Check.
But maybe my favourite thing (apart from standing before the unnerving gaze of Mona) was going down into the Catacombs hidden underneath the city. About 6 million Parisians are interred there, their bones put together in a macabre sort of decorative wallpaper for tourists to view. And none of it was behind glass, you could just reach out and touch the bones. If I had wanted, I could have stolen a skull.
I didn't.
But I could have.
So thank you Paris for a wonderful time in your beautiful city! I'm even starting to forgive you for the €8 pints.
