The city of Love

My first time in Paris was amazing thanks to my best friend and tour guide Meryl. In seriousness the girl pre-arranged everything – from what days to do what museums to reservations at a popular fondue restaurant.
Unlike my experience in Barcelona where Nick gave me next to no direction, Meryl pre-sent me this guide of how to find her in Paris. It was as detailed as to explain how to insert my ticket into the turnstile at the bus station and included a sheet in French to show to a stranger should I need assistance. Needless to say, I found her easily. Our reunion in front of the Notre-Dame Cathedral was made even more exciting when we ran into another one of our friends studying in France. What are the odds?
We sat outside in a caffe and then went back to her house to make dinner. Then we went on a “romantic” walk around the city at night and bought crepes. The next day we did the Museo d’Orsay. Great pieces in the museum, but really poorly designed schematics. Its made in an old train station and its really confusing to go through all the exhibits in any kind of system. That night we had reservations at this fondue places were they literally cram you into seats. No menu – just two options: meat or cheese. They serve you wine in baby bottles. It was a blast. We got sat next to this Italian couple and so I of course got to practice my Italian some.
The next day I saw the arch di triomf (sorry cant spell), Eiffel towel, Louve, and pretty much everything you expect one should see in Paris. Louve was overwhelming. I just went into whatever rooms were quiet. I happened to walk by the Mona Lisa. So I did go in to say hello to her. Such a let down. I feel bad for all of the other fabulous painting in that room. I bet nobody notices them. The painting of the last supper on the back wall is incredible.
Oh and I got hit on… by a 50+ Italian man. He comes up to me and says something in French. And Im like oh well Im going to be tricky and just respond in Italian and then throw this guy for a loop. But he got the last laugh cause he was actually Sicilian and had noticed that I spoke Italian cause I was reading the Italian translated map of the Louve. (I like to get the Italian maps in museums when Im out of the country. It hides the fact that Im really an American tourist and I get to practice reading in Italian.) Next thing you know im cornered by this man who is interested in knowing where in Italy I live, where my hotel in Paris is, and would I like to join him for lunch today. (gross)
The other “great” interaction with boys was at the Arc di Triomf. There were these 5 14 year old boys (maybe older) boys standing on the this raised platform dancing and causing a scene. I laugh and sarcastically clap as we walk by. I forgot that I guess in 14 year old boy terms this means I like them or something. Next thing I know they are right behind us trying to speak English. They don’t know a lot. Only enough to ask us in non-polite terms (terms I won’t say explicitly as my grandparents read this blog) but words basically asking us to sleep with them. What a great culture I must belong to that foreign kids learn how to say only these things in English.
Anyway, that night we met up with Sarah (another friend from school) and went to a Parisian club. I wont really elaborate. But it was pretty much like freshman year at college except less frat boys and Ive never had a taxi driver scream at me in French before. We spent the next day in bed watching Sex and the City. (So see it really was just like my freshman year).