Day Deux

French is so hard. I find myself adding a Spanish accent to everything I try to say. It sounds like Swahili when I do.

I've pretty much mastered bonjour, merci, and baguette. We get a lot of baguettes.

We took an hour walk past all of the expensive stores with all the pretty things that I don't have the money or suite case room to buy headed towards "the River." This river is actually a pretty big deal, being the Seine and all. All (well, I guess most) of the major Parisian monuments are along its bank.

Our tour guide spoke French, obvz, then translated to English. Still, I hardly knew what she was saying. I sat next to honestly the cutest little old man. He had with him his stuck up little old wife and their prissy little granddaughter. I figured my English enthusiasm disinterested him so I just blocked out the incomprehensible tour guide and let myself get into my own world while visually studying as much of the architecture I could (Thank God I'm taking that class!)

I didn't even need the tour guide to identify Notre Dame. I also didn't find it on my own. The little old man that I was so quick to deem cynical tapped me, pointed to it and said in the harshest French accent Notre Dame.

ahh... Notre Dame.

oh my god, it was so precious. So I did my stupid "I'm-so-excited-you-talked-to-me" smile and said "beautiful!" There I go again, saying random English words that no one understands. He was still all smiles though, fired off some French to which I nodded and looked again at the church.

"Tre magnifique!" I said, pretending like I knew something. He replied with more excited French and then peered off again. I was still looking, but knew that we had probably exhausted the extent of any possible conversation. Then I heard him sigh "ahh, Notre Dame." Stop. It was the most adorable thing in the world. This guy who was most likely as familiar with Paris as my dad is with Brooklyn was completely breathless at the sight of this cathedral. I'm so glad I had no idea what else he was saying or could have possibly said to me. I'm sure he had some sort of back story, but the mystery was so much more intriguing to me. I marveled more at him marveling than I did at the cathedral myself.

We went up the river and turned back around to go to the other half of the city (we kind of set sail smack in the middle.) The best part about that is I got to hear little ol' Frenchy whisper Notre Dame again. Got me every time...

So there we were, tugging down the Siene with an inaudible tour guide, looking at beautiful buildings with mysterious inner workings.

I heard something about an expensive restaurant from the microphone. Cool whatever.

"Up there, with the glass." Frenchy's son was throwing me a bone! He could speak English and knew what the hell he was talking about.

Ohhh, now I'm getting some type of an experience. He shot off the name in flowy French and I nodded. Very nice, I suppose...

TUG TUG TUG DOWN THE SIENE.

More big beautiful buildings that Frenchy Jr. saw me gawking at... "That is the [something French]."

"Oh, it was a palace?" I asked assuming since it was so damn elaborate. I was right! Take that St. John's, I am learning something and it ain't from you!

The Conciergerie. At least M.A. was in a palace
 when they told her that her head was gonna roll.

He told me, in very broken English that it's a museum but WAS a palace. Score for me. But between being converted it was a jail that held Marie Antoinette. Naturally, I let out a very American "that's my girl!" and snapped away. Honestly though, how cool? Marie Antoinette was scheduled for a date with the guillotine at this very edifice. I didn't even get that excited about the Declaration of Independence. But Marie Antoinette? That's cake I want a slice of, no matter how many calories.


I've still yet to venture to the Eiffel Tower but the little cruise gave me such a view that I now can't wait to get stand right under it. As we got closer, it got more and more massive. I mean, there's a little Eiffel Tower you can see from the Van Wyck, but from the Siene, the Eiffel Tower is something else.

The Eiffel Tower, and to the right
the entrance to the the Bridge of King Louis III.
Lil' Ol Frenchy told me about that one too.<3

The bit of information I did pick up from the tour guide was that people of the time when it was built didn't like it. I don't know why, but they didn't. That was a lot of information to get from that choppy french microphone. In all honesty, I think I'd be one of those people. I think, if the Eiffel Tower were built in New York, all New Yorkers would be that way. It doesn't take much imagination.

"Why the hell are the building that right on the East River? To add more train stops and make me late to work 3 instead of 2 times a week?"

YOU CAN HEAR IT TOO! I KNOW IT.

And now, this big scaffolding-like tower is one of the most recognizable landmarks in all the world. Funny how people are; their initial reactions to things and the way that gradually changes.
Kind of like my experience with Little Ol' Frenchy. I'm gonna miss him...