Fatties eat Paris!
That's right, I started a page on our trip to Paris with a picture of a too-long hotdog from Frankfurt. But for some reason those few hours in Frankfurt really stand out in our minds. I have no idea why. Just imagine that hotdog all in one piece in my stomach. I think it's still there.
Since there are so many damned pictures from Paris (but actually not nearly enough, because it rained so much while we were there), I'll present them in order. How boring. But it's not like anyone's reading this anyway. Actually, I'll just be impressed with myself if I can remember the correct order of the fotos (and, who are we kidding, I'll be damned impressed if this website is ever updated at all). But Liana won't correct me if I'm wrong. It's not like she's a bitch or anything.
First day we were just plain exhausted. Just look at us on the RER (the bus-thing) going into Paris. We look horrible/crazy. My friend Bjoern described me as evil, like I was planning something horrible. Maybe I was, but I don't remember now. Or do I?
And here's the view from our first hotel. It was such a beautiful little room. I have no pictures of it, so you'll have to take my word. But it had a view (and for comparison, check out the view from our second hotel, right below).
Day two was the cheesy tourist day. I made Liana go to the top of the Eiffel tower. I think to this day she hates me for it (check out how angry she looks in these two fotos; too bad they're such small fotos, because she really looks pissed). But c'mon, it's the goddamn Eiffel tower. It has to be done, and at least we got it out of the way early on. Besides, it was very pretty and we got an excuse to buy a cheesy Paris souvenier (is souvenier a French word? I think so!) in the form of a corkscrew that we later learned, conveniently in the line to have our baggage checked by Frankfurt airport security men armed with automatic weapons, included a two-inch blade. The best part? They let us take the knife on the plane. If they knew how many speeding tickets I've gotten they never would've let us keep that knife. No way.
We walked a lot that day. Actually, we walked a lot every day. Why did we walk so much? I think I'm a little bit stupid. Seriously, we must've walked like 2,000 miles that week. OK, not at all seriously, but we did walk like at least 200 feet everyday, and considering how much time I spend sitting on my ass at home, that's A LOT of walking.
After a lunch of bread and brie and weird grapey things in a park across from the Eiffel tower, we WALKED to the Arc de Triomphe. The arc itself is, um, pretty cool. It's an arc, with like statues and stuff around it. And a weird see-through bathroom/phonebooth/time machine (we couldn't figure out what the hell it was _ you look at the picture and tell me if you know).
The coolest thing about the Arc de Triomphe was the traffic circle around it. You could seriously sit there for hours and watch the cars go round and round. It's insane. There are like eight lanes of traffic, but no actual lane dividers. The cars just go really fast and somehow manage to not hit each other.
And then we walked forever and ever and ever down Champs-Elysees. We weren't fed up with walking yet, or else we would've taken the Metro. But at least I got two pictures of Paris at night (before it started raining), including one that involved balancing my camera on a crosswalk button in the middle of the Champs-Elysees.
Day three. Is this getting annoying? I think it's annoying. But I'm gonna keep going, because I just don't care.
We went to Pere-Lachaise in the morning. I didn't know what it was. Liana kept saying "Let's go to Pere-Lachaise" and no matter how many times I asked her what the hell that was and she told me, I could never remember it. For everyone who's as stupid as I am, it's the cemetery where Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde are buried. We never found Morrison's grave cuz neither one of us cared that much (and Liana had already seen it anyway).
Anyway, I'm just gonna put up a bunch of photos from the cemetery. Notice how Liana looks like a grave-robber in several of them.
Damn, that was a lot of cemetery pictures. Well, thankfully for your sanity, it rained most of the rest of that day. So there's just one more photo from day three, and that's at the restaurant where Liana and I made fools out of ourselves over and over and over again. OK, it was mostly just me making a fool out of myself. I really didn't mean to spill that entire glass of water on the bitchy American chick's shoes. Really.
Before we go on to day four, some pictures of our second hotel room. Specifically, a picture of Liana reading French Playboy (much like American Playboy, yes) in our room, and then eating the best damned breakfast in the world the next morning.
OK, day four. (Is anybody else as bored as I am?) This was, in many ways, a day straight from hell. Liana has likely blocked it from her memory. It started out pleasant enough, though. We went to Amelie-land, or Montmartre, as they call it in Paris (damn Parisian show-offs with their fancy language). Liana loved me for making her pretend to be like Amelie and the cute boy.
Check out Liana and the pants. First she's making fun of them, then it looks like she's ready to try them on. Does she want them or not? No one can really tell. Including her.
And now comes the hell part. I'm sorry, Liana! Really I am. I made her walk about 30 miles that afternoon. All cuz I wanted to see some canals. And they were stupid canals too. I can freely admit that now. At the time I was very defensive. I so wanted the canals to be neat. Eh, whatever. Here are some trains. And a boat (in a canal, damnit).
What day are we on now? Who am I? Is that Val Kilmer singing?
Day five. Um, I think this was Luxembourg Gardens in the morning. Beautiful. Very nice. What's interesting about day five is I have no idea what we did that afternoon. Was that the day we went to the Louvre? Liana? Help? (She's not answering. Liana never answers me. I don't think she likes me very much. Who's dog is that?)
Yeah, it was definitely the Louvre in the afternoon. Here you go: gardens and a museum.
At some point around day four or five or six or something like that we switched bedrooms. Again. Our last room was just amazing. Neither of us had a pillow, so we made them. Mine involved a scratchy sweater (Liana said it wasn't scratchy but Liana lies a lot) wrapped around a washcloth I think. Liana slept on a dead baby seal. She was far more comfortable than me. Well, see for yourself.
Is anyone else getting tired of this crap? Can we just skip the rest of the trip? Please?
We went to the Catacombs, we (literally) ran through the d'Orsay, we shopped, we miraculously won 200 Euros from an AmEx ATM (it turned out to not be a miracle at all, but that's a long and boring story and we were awfully excited at the time, so shouldn't that be enough?), we bought chocolates, Liana bought a fancy dress, we visited a cybercafe (which wasn't really a cafe at all, just rows and rows and rows of computers with annoying as hell French keyboards), we ate a lot, we met a nice non-Mormon chick from Utah who wasn't enjoying living in Paris as much as she should have, we panicked over a taxi to the airport, we wrote not enough of our novels.
That's all. That's every single thing we did in Paris. And I'm done.
Say goodnight to the Frankfurt airport guy now.
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