Ok, so today was definitely a better day. We went to the Louvre, and even though I was supremely annoyed that we still had to stand in line, even though we purchased the (expensive) Paris Museum Pass (which promised us immediate entry to all locations included), I made it through the line. It probably took twenty minutes. And the only reason I even waited in it in the first place was because we immediately got into a conversation with two very nice guys behind us (who were either a couple or very, very good friends. I really hope it was the first because they were super nice and very happy together.)
And I had a good time at the Louvre. We were there for six hours, so I guess I had a really good time. And yes, we stood in line for EVERYTHING. That’s really the only choice I have here, and so I’ve decided that I’m going to deal with it (when it is within reason–the line for Notre Dame was NOT within reason) and then never return to a place again that requires such lines.n line to get in, to go to the bathroom to have lunch–we even had to stand in line for the escalator to get OUT of the building.
But all bitching aside, as we spent most of our time in the areas of the Louvre that no one cares about, it was actually very nice (fortunately for me, I like Dutch painters–a lot. Second only to French impressionist painters, which is why we’re going to Orsay tomorrow). I loved the building itself, and took dozens of pictures of painted ceilings and staircases. My favorite part was Napoleon’s ‘apartments’, which were, in a word, insane.
We saved the ‘worst part’ for the end of our visit–we glanced at the Mona Lisa–and the mob surrounding it–from the doorway, and clicked a photo over our shoulder of Venus before running from the masses. We took the amazing metro home (we either have really good timing, or one comes every 45 seconds), and decided to not make the transfer required to go right to our doorstep, but instead walked through some pedestrian walkways whist I window shopped (I’m totally coming home with, like, eight pairs of these sort of genie-meets-mc hammer pants everyone is wearing and selling).
We returned to the apartment to drink wine and rest our feet going across the courtyard for dinner. Want to have an embarrasing experience? Go to a Chinese restaurant in Paris. Ask the waiter ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ and realize that he doesn’t speak French (or English). We pointed at the menu, and ended up with the best meal we’ve had here so far. As we can see it from our kitchen window, we will be going back.
We then took a stroll (so the husband could smoke–I’m ‘letting’ him smoke while we are here, which is only fair, as he’s ‘letting’ me live, despite my extreme bitchiness), and then got a gelato before walking back home. We planned out tomorrow–sort of–and decided that we’re only thinking one day in advance.
He also took some time to jot down some notes for the blog–or blogs–he’s planning on guest writing. That’s definitely something I’m looking forward to reading.
Additionally, as promised, here are some photo sets from Flickr, for anyone interested: