We slept in.
We got lunch. Girl talk. At length.
It started raining.
We retreated to the hotel for umbrellas. We already have colds to fight.
We started our sightseeing day at 2:30p.m., and we were so efficient.
Our first stop was the Museum D’Orsay and I can finally add something to the art conversation – I love neo-impressionism. Or as I said in the museum, “I like dots.” A lot. While saying “I like dots” much like The Christmas Story’s “I like the Tin Man,” we heard “Janae?”
In this random room in a massive museum in Paris, France, Natalie, a Syracuse University student studying abroad this semester in London happens to be calling my name. She’s in Paris for the week. We were in our fraternity together.
It is a small, small world.
A few hours later, Nancy and I went to Saint Chapelle and, as we were waiting, the security guard calls out “Madame…” and we look back, assuming we were in the wrong entry line or otherwise doing something wrong.
Clinton and Sally were waving at me. Remember my Australian friends from on the way to Nice twelve days ago?
It is a small small world.
It was so good to catch up with them. Just like old friends, it seemed.
Nancy and I went to Notre Dame, too late to enter the towers but after dark and thus catching the lit up Christmas tree.
Then, the Museum of Modern Art. We had a lot of fun here. It was more our style than the other museums. Quirky. Silly.
Even if sometimes… We just didn’t quite “get it.”
We got back to the hotel and got dolled up. Dolled up for me is putting on eye makeup for the second time in three months and a dress that fits… Odd how fast you get used to no makeup and secondhand poorly fitting jeans. Doing eye makeup last night in our short-circuited dark room last night was a bit more than difficult.
No such power issues tonight, and we were off to Moulin Rouge. Or first, the Irish Pub next door, for the best if quickest eaten salads of our lives. Short on time, we asked for the check as our food was delivered and the waited choked out “Already?”
Oh Moulin Rouge. Never on a girl’s night out have I seen so many breasts. For two hours, women wore flowing skirts and necklaces while the men remained fully dressed. No-hand headstands took place on men’s heads, insane juggling and ventriloquism was seen, and one sexual fantasy after another was on display. Medieval ages? Sure thing. Modern set to “I Will Survive?” Sure thing. Circus act with ponies? Okay. Basically naked woman in a tank swimming with pythons? Most certainly.
My favorite was pirate themed. Aaargh matey.
So many boobs. All very real, by the way. You can tell such things when there are forty half-nude dancers in front of you. The rated PG-13 (R?) Rockettes. With a half bottle of champagne each, it was a silly, giggly night.
Leaving Moulin Rouge and waiting for a taxi, spotted a Starbucks. You all know by now I appreciate a good Starbucks moment. While trying to get a “Hey, look!” (I can be an acceptable female when I return to the states, my Boy, photo)…
This happened. I hope these, the awkward smile, the leaning away, the “don’t touch me” look aren’t what happen every time a male touches me.
But it did make me laugh pretty hard.
I tried to do something cute, and that’s what happened.
20 more days of European adventures.