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“Ahh, Paris. Chinois, Chinois, Chinois…”

Paris

Ahh, gay Paris.


I must hold my hands up, and say even though I have been to France many times, I think I have been to Paris only once before. And even then it was on a trip to the Paris air show to see some big planes, and I never made it into Paris proper.
So, time to see what all the fuss was about.


I was trying to eek out of Meg what the big fascination with Paris/France was to all American girls. This perceived romantic city, food, wine, etc. The only answer I got was that her old French teacher never actually taught her French but just kept banging on about Paris and how great it was (she didn’t even realize French people carried onions around their necks – she claims that’s a British only stereotype). But, I have to begrudgingly say it is a very impressive and grand place (begrudgingly as, for non-British readers, there is a permanent slight distrust between our 2 nations. And it didn’t help when one of the tourist guys selling us the Louvre tickets, on me telling him I was from the UK, was “well, it’s not your fault”. I held my head high as I walked off slightly aggrieved…)


First stop Pompidou Centre. Yep, pretty 80’s, and basically a glorified McDonald’s play pen. Notre Dame next. Quasimodo was not in, but it was one of the first churches/cathedrals we’d seen that didn’t have scaffolding around it. Then onto the D’Orsay to see some Impressionists (Monet and the like). I just spent the whole time trying to recognize things – all from a board game called Masterpiece that I used to play as a kid (I looked to download it as an app. Not available. Loved that game). The D’Orsay itself had recently been done up and was very fancy inside. Next was Eiffel Tower – I thought it was black. It’s brown. Then Arc de Triomphe and Champs Elysees. Fancy shops. Finally to Le Louvre, which I ran through on the hunt for The Mona Lisa, found it, ran back downstairs to the Venus de Milo and out. Final stop Mont Marché to get a view of the city, had some macaroons, and it was home time. And there it is. Paris in 6 hours (and you could skip the Mont Marche bit, and do it in 4).


I feel as if cities like Paris and Rome, will be appreciated much more when I am a little older. When I can happily spend 4 or 5 days in a place, more than 30 minutes in a gallery or museum, and don’t mind queuing up for an hour to get into said museum or gallery.


After a bit of a train journey back to the campsite, it was back to our depressing looking tent and another night camped under the stars (a lamp post) and nature (sound of the shower block generator).


We’re nearing the end…

Day 40

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