We went, we saw, we ate, we drank, we danced in the moonlight. Well, not moonlight per se, cause it was kind of cloudy, and not dancing per se either, because we have bad knees and we drank a lot of wine so we weren’t our usual exquisitely coordinated selves. But we did drink deeply, not just of wine, but of life itself, in the City of Lights. You know, Paris. France. In Europe. What do they teach in school nowadays anyhow?
So a few random and completely meaningless observations from the trip to stave off having to write anything more substantive.
- Or une. Say bonjour to everyone when you enter a store, restaurant or museum. It works wonders. Say it with a little singsongy lilt. Even better. And seriously do it in a museum to the guards. Mary tried this out for kicks and it made everyone’s day. Before she entered the guards would be sitting in their chairs, staring blankly into space, wondering how their lives came to this (which in France means a guaranteed job for life, full medical benefits, and eight weeks of vacation a year). They had such dreams. Probably of getting nine weeks of vacation a year. Mary would greet them and they’d perk right up, like no one ever noticed me before and thanks, my existence is now validated. By the way, go ahead and try out Marie Antoinette’s bed. We all do it after hours, and it’s really pretty comfy because it was a bed for a queen.
- Or deux. Weirdly enough, there were movie posters all over the place for the Hangover 2, which apparently was opening sometime really soon. Yeah, in France, and I thought they had some taste. But the really weird part is that in France the title for the movie wasn’t Gueule De Bois, which according to Google translator is the French phrase for hangover. Instead the posters all said Real Bad Trip 2. But the deeply weird thing was the title was in English. Not Le Voyage Vraiment Mauvais Deux (again, thanks Google), as one would expect. So it begs the question, why not leave the title as the Hangover 2, if you’re going to advertise it in English anyhow? These are the questions that consume me such that I have to find a sidewalk café where I can drown my inquisitiveness with a carafe of vin ordinaire. At least that was the reason I came up with at least once on the trip.
- Or…. Oh, let’s just drop it. The French numbers are funny twice (my opinion, yours may vary), but just silly three or more times.
- Observed at dinner one night at Disney Paris, and not having anything to do with the French or even the Europeans but it tickled me, a youngster with a large plate of frites (fries) and an equally large bowl of ketchup. Mary’s description: The Sulky Tween Diet.
As for the future, I have more silly and absurd observations regarding life in Paris, a few bon mots to throw out about London, and a personal revelation about kouign amann.