PARIS - le dernier jour

I woke up this morning thinking today would be uneventful; a lazy day without much to do.

Apparently I forgot I was in Paris.

One thing I've learned about this city is that there is always something interesting to explore. I began the day my trying to visit the art exhibit of a French cousin, only to find out that the invitation lied and it was closed until mid-afternoon. So instead I took a walk - a very, very long walk.


I stumbled upon this plaza (still am not sure of the name) but found it full of beautiful modern sculptures. Each represents something or someone - like the Olympic Spirit (left) and Europe (on the right).


Walking toward the Ile de Cité, I came across this stunning statue that, as it turns out, is the famous end of pilgramiges for French Nationalists. I thought it was interesting because it was Joan of Arc, and she is always interesting...


I then walked to the Jardin des Tuilleres. Certainly my favorite garden in the city. Beautiful flowers, sculptures, monuments and fountains. And of course, it is part of the axis from the Louvre to La Défense.


Also in the Jardin des Tuilleres I had my first anti-American experience. I was having a lovely conversation with a rather handsome waiter when he asked me what country I was from. Of course I told him, and he made a face and began to walk away (honesstly though, I think it's pretty damn obvious I'm from America, but whatrever). I aint no fool, though. I quickley told him that I hated Bush and he was back to chatting and loving me. At least these frogs can differenciate between hating Americans and hating Bush?

We then had a conversation about how most of my countrymen must be fools to hate Bush yet still elect him for four more years... and then he admitted French politics weren't much better!

Did some other things today (including buying a visa), but I wont bore you with the details. I'm dreading my crazy day of travel tomorrow (I must fly from Paris to London Luton, take a bus to Heatherow to collect my luggage, and then somehow get to Gatwick for my flight to Nice, all of which is followed by an horu and a half car-ride with a man who doesn't speak English and has a provençal accent that is so thick even my French family from Paris cant understand him...) but am psyched to be at the house - and in a truly familiar place. Finally I can unpack and start to settle in!