We stayed at a really great small hotel run by a friend of a friend. The place was great--nice location, lots of quirky Parisian charm, and a magical convergence of fates that allowed us to park right out front.
First stop: Lunch at a corner bakery--Patisserie to all the purists. She shared a few bites.
Next stop was Notre Dame and ALOT of souvenir shopping combined with the heart wrenching decision on whether to wait in the line to climb the towers or move on to:
Of course Mona won. This is, in fact, the entire reason that Julia wanted to go to Paris in the first place. She took this picture and made the following observations:
"It is bigger than I thought."
"She is pretty in a weird sort of way."
"That Leonardo, he was kind of good."
"I think I like Raphael's ladies better."
We then moved on to the second real reason for a trip to Paris: The Eiffel Tower. After waiting in line for 45 minutes, they closed the upper viewing deck 7 people in front of us. Undaunted, we sailed up to the first platform on a double decker elevator and waited patiently until the upper deck was re-opened. We arrived on top just as the sun was setting and the first thing that Julia did on exiting the elevator was...wait for it...run into the gift shop! Not even a glance over the city. Not one oooohh or aahhhh. Straight to the tacky pencils and brass Eiffel key chains. It was a bitter pill. I left her there to admire the tacky while I admired the view.
Paris is lovely at night.
When we made it back to the bottom, Julia spotted just what she had been looking for in all those gift shops: A glass, multi-colored, light-up Eiffel Tower, sold by the thousands across the bridge from the tower by a United Nations of emigrants who probably know how to barter in every language known to man. Julia paid 5 euro. She was thrilled. Our last entertainment of the evening was watching, and listening, as the wave of international street-hawkers took off at full speed, Eiffel Tower key chains clanging in cheery cacophony, right toward, through, and past us followed by the Parisian street police. What a day.P.S. The volleyball games and cross country meet went well. I did show an uncharacteristic amount of self sacrifice and restrain as I drove past an amazingly tempting Brocante (massive French yard sale) that stretched for a good 2 kilometers on the way to the school. Sigh...
