Paris Day 26: getting booted from the nest (CN)

Came home from class to find my bags (nearly) all packed. Turns out that a cleaning lady (who spoke no English), came in the morning, and was horrified that we were still there. Ginger ended up speaking with a woman at the rental agency, who impressed upon him that we had been expected to be gone yesterday, that there were another renter coming later that day, and that we needed to be out so the apartment could be cleaned for the next occupant. To which he repeatedly replied that he could not vacate the apartment without talking to me first. And so, I gather, they bantered back and forth until she finally understood that he wasn't going to leave, and left the number for me to call back.

So, there I was, totally bewildered and FREAKED OUT! Ginger left the apartment, ostensibly to get us some crepes for lunch, but also with the desire to evade the unpleasantness of the ensuing conversation between myself and the rental agency. Ironically, Gail was out to lunch, and I would need to call back in 40 minutes. By which time Ginger was already back. During this time, I frantically searched for my lease papers, which were not much help, since they described the apartment that I was to have, not the one I ended up in. However, I got rather worked up, since the date on both sets of rental contracts had the 5th as the leave ddate. Found a few emails between myself and Valerie, with my initial dates on it, and was prepared to wave the flag of indignation. However, just in case, I packed up my toiletries and got everything else ready to go.

Finally, after Ginger returned with crepes, I got a hold of Gail, and talked via Celina, whose English was better. The end of it was that we left the apartment on the promise that they would find us another.

Took a cab to the rental agency. There was no way that I would have been able to navigate with my bags through the metro. Realistically, it was difficult enough as it was, and that was with Ginger carrying the heavy duffel bag.

Got the rental agency, and discovered where the error was. It was mine. Let me explain by first telling you that the US is weird. Not only do we use the antiquated (ooh, not metric, but the other one, whose name I can't remember just now!) system of inches, pounds and Farenheit; we also write the date with the month first, instead of the day/month/year format that the rest of the world uses. Thus, I screwed myself when I mistakenly put the exit date as 5/5/08, and not 9/5/08. Luckily, Gail was quite gracious about it, and probably had a private laugh when I explained my mistake to Ginger. This is one of the reasons that I try to be pleasant, even when I want to berate someone ... because half of the time, the fault ends up being mine. I rather think this is a shame, since I would rather be right all of the time, or at least be pleasant by nature, as opposed to pleasant because I feel I have to. Gail found me an apartment a block away, and we were on our way. I'm sure it will cost me a pretty penny, being on the Right Bank. It's just as well that I paid the hefty deposit, and that I did pay for 4 weeks. Hopefully I will get something back.

The new apartment is nice, but not as great as the other apartment. And a good 400 euros more expensive per month. It stood on the second floor, past two flights of narrow, creaky stairs that looked charming, but were rather scary. Blessings again on Ginger who helped me with the bags up. And so, with the labors of the morning done, we set out to see some more Paris sights.

Out to the Marais(?) to see a glass house exhibit. Got there, foudn the address, ut it was all closed up, with no publicity at all. Ginger did manage to catch a glimpse of something through a window, but that's just because he's exceedingly tall. I saw some glass, but it didn't make any sense to me at all.

We walked and talked our way through the streets, having the most indepth conversation I've ever had with a man about the most I'd ever spent on an article of clothing. These days I don't spend a whole lot on clothing. Most of my clothes are very casual, or do double duty for dancing. However, when I think of it, the most I've ever spent was $400-ish dollars on a navy, wool, Calvin Klein coat that was heavily discounted at Nordstrom. A good investment that I still love. Ginger's was (not counting suits), an extraordinary pair of boots, which were not so extraordinary in that the Right sole still wore out faster than the Left.

Finally got the Luxembourg Gardens, and wandered around the outside, looking at the photography gallery exhibited on the gates thereof. I'm sad that I hadn't mentioned it before, but glad that I remembered in time for us both to see it. So many striking images, many of which were featured in Figaro, a prestigious magazine that I will have to look up.

Tried to dine at Le Partage, but it wasn't open yet, so we wandered about until we found another Indian restauant, the kind that's open all day. Food wasn't too bad. Although I did have to remove a few "knuckles" from my chicken dish. Wouldn't you know that Ginger had no such problem.

Back at the apartment, Ginger took his leave. But not before giving me a book of Atget's photos. How perfect.

When he left, I started making the couch ready to sleep in. Really, it pulls out, but I was too lazy to do it, and besides, I needed the space too badly to want to either. Found that there were tears/burns on the edges of the fitted sheet. However, it was clean, so I didn't worry about it. It just means another trip to the rental agency to explain it and the ice forming in the fridge.

And then I started to unpack. And realize that Ginger had packed all my things. Clothes. G's, bras, dirty laundry. My prevalent emotion upon retiring to bed was amused mortification.

Paris Day 25: Wandering the streets of Paris (CN)

After class, walked along the Seine. The time is so short now, and there are so many things left to see.

To the Orangerie, which stands at the head of the Tuilleries like a sentinnel, parallel to the museum with the Alex Soth exhibit. Beautiful inside. Monet's waterlillies span two enormous elliptical rooms, like an infinity sign. Despite all the people around me, it's if I'm at Giverny, seeing with his eyes. Reminds me of a conversation with Depressed MD, way back in college. Said he would often take off his glasses when walking around campus at dusk, to better feel the colors of the sunset. Hope DMD is doing better these days, although I rather doubt it.

Then to the Georges Pompidou Center. Louise Bourgois exhibit is bizarre and wacky. I quite like the enormous spider creations, and try to like the women-as-houses paintings and miscellania, but I just can't get into it. Frankly, I was more seduced by the words describing the exhibit than the exhibit itself. THere were a few things in the permanent collection that I quite liked, and used my camera to catch them. Hope to get a chance to update later. Stayed at the Pompidou until almost closing. Then again, it stays bright so late into the evening, that one hardly notices the time slipping away.

On the walk home, I met Da in the street running in front of Notre Dame. Such an eccentric character, it was hard to miss him. Had just come from a reading at the Shakespearre book shop. I'd always meant to make it to one of those, but had never managed. I'd done my requisite check to see if there was a hardcover copy of By the River Piedra, I Laid Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho, but they only had the paperback copy that graces bookstores everywhere, so I passed it by. Chatted for a few minutes, then made my escape to the apartment, where sleep awaited.

Paris Day 24: Sunday Services (CN)

Ginger left for the Musee D'Orsay early, which gave me leisure time to shower and get ready for church. The hardest thing about having a guest in this tiny little studio apartment is not being able to cool down enough after showering. I generally like to take my time after a shower ... slathering on lotion and letting my body cool down and dry off before dressing. But in such a small space, it's impossible to dry and cool off entirely in the small shower room, especially since it's really cramped, there is no fan, and everything is steamed up. Basically, I've been taking lukewarm showers for the past week and a half, and quickly jumping into the toilet room to change into my dry clothes.

But, this morning was lovely.

Walked up to church. It's so close, it's a shame I haven't made it before. Congregation is split linguistially ... French and Chinese speaking in one ward, English in the other. I attended the French sacrament meeting. Lots of missionaries: elder and sister pairs in both French and Chinese, so eight total! Lots of missionary testimonies, which were endearing. Two misionaries from La Canada were the only ones who spoke to me.

Went straightaway to the Musee de la Vie Romantique, which is dedicated to George Sand. I keep meaning to read a biodraphy of her, as she has fascinated me ever since I saw Impromtu.

Went back to the apartment and changed, since I was too hot in my dress and tall black boots. What a waste of time, but really, it's too hot for Paris now. On the way, I bought a huge floppy black hat, a' la Chanel at a tourist shop. It's enormous and will definitely protect me better from the sun than the two brim-skimpy hats that I got when it was cold and rainy. At the apartment I changed into linen pants and my fabulous Nike black top. Pinned a large floppy flower to the corner and felt tres chic!

Walked along Seine in my ensemble (I'm sure I looked a strange site) and got as far as the Louvre. I'd intended to go to the Orangerie, but decided to take advantage of the "first Sunday of the month is free" deal and entered the Louvre instead.

Really liked the Cupid and Psyche statue. Even liked the La Gioconda ... she always looks so drab and manly in pictures of the painting, but in person, even behind glass, she is very appealing.

Skimmed through the Italian large format paintings. Found some things that I liked. Hope to get around to posting them sometime soon.

Walked back to the apartment along the Seine and got cleaned up. Ginger necer made it back, and since I didn't want to be late for dinner at Jim's, I left a note. Confess that I looked in vain for Ginger as I walked to the metro station. When I descended the stairs, I gave it up. And then there he was, after having taken the metro for the first time. How bizarre. However, since he'd just eaten, he decided to pass on Jim's.

Dinner was fabulous. Saw Ama right away. Apparently she is staying in Jim's basement, on the goodness of his heart! Met a bunch of ex-pats and a French woman who was attending for the first time. Good time for me to practice my French, and her to practice her English!

Veer brought her sister, and we all had fun getting acquainted. Veer is just so charming and American, I don't see how anyone could not like her.

Met Da, who has the air (and accent) of a European, but is actually an Aussie. He was dressed in what looked like a smoking jacket, and says that Paris is the center of the world.

Bought one of Jim's books, and he drollfully autographed it. Such a generous, outgoing, and social character. I wish I'd come at the beginning of my Paris trip, and not the end.

When I got home, Ginger was fast asleep. Thank heavens for a little snoring, which is a general indicator if a man is sleeping or not! Showered and washed my fabulous Nike top so I could wear it during the heat of the next day.

Paris Day 23: Deja Versaille (CN)

Up to go to Versaille again.

Train crowded on the way out. Not a good sign.

Ginger and I parted company at the train station, as I wanted to visit the King's Kitchen Garden. Lovely. Liked how the trees (blossoming white and pink) were trained to grow in large-sized menorahs. Don't know much about botany at all, but I appreciated the quiet loveliness.

Stopped off at a corner market to buy water (no more waiting 35 minutes in line for me!), some nibbles, and two small bananas.

Huge queues at Versailles. Walked toward the front to see if there was a shorter line for Passport holders. There wasn't. But Ginger was still waiting in line, rather close to the start, and I was able to join him for the price of a small banana.

Parted company when inside, since he wanted to go slow, and I just wanted the Hall of Mirrors and the gardens. Hall just as grand as I remembered.

In the gardens, I walked through some of the manicured gardens I'd missed last week. Then returned to Enceladus (SP?) again because I liked to lustiness of the sculpture and music.

Rented a bike from the most unpleasant woman I've ever met. At least it seemed that way. Started biking around the Grand Canal. Noticed a guy drumming along the bike path, and my eye was drawn for a few moments as I passed. Continued to the far end, and rode around the non-paved area. Mistake, since I'm not that great a rider. So I completed the loop and continued around the GC. Just as I was thinking that it would be nice to site on one of the shady benches, a foursome left a bench right before my eyes!

I commandeered the bench, and got out my water and almonds. Before too long, a guy with a bike asked if he could join me. He looked friendly and cute, so I said oui! Turns out it was the drummer. Very friendly, spoke a little English, which made for lots of laughter, and good practice for me. Invited me down to the water's edge to relax and talk. Three hours later (after more returning the bike and more talking), I left Versailles with a bit of stubble burn on my face. Sometimes fantasies do come true.

Randomly ran into Ginger on the street in front of the Shakespearre and Co bookstore. That's twice in one day where we've serendipitously met in a crowd of people. Ate dinner and got ourselves to sleep.

Paris Day 22: Kooky relics (CN)

After class, went back to apartment and Ginger and I headed back to Notre Dame for the displaying of the relics: supposedly part of the Christ's crown of thorns, a nail and a bit of the cross.

Queue was amazing. Coiled around like a snake. Bizarre.

Inside of ND is immense. Stained glass not as beautiful as Chartres, but then ND was converted to a "temple of reason" during the revolution, so it's a wonder it's still standing at all. Must come back later to take tower tour.

Ceremony for the display. Ginger and I got some seats on the side, kind of near the front. Soprano singer with clear and pleasant voice lead singing. Lots of French spoken by guys in long robes that I don't understand. People standing in the aisles blocking the view. Rather rude, that. Then people lined up to kiss the glass case immediately surrounding the thorn crown, which was held by a long-robed man. The supplicants would put their forehead in the middle of the crown, and kiss the glass, which two obliging men standing on either side wiped off the glass between supplicants, WITH THE SAME LITTLE PIECE OF TISSUE! Strange, both the kissing and the wiping.

Over to the museum opposite the Orangerie for a photo exhibit by Alex Soth. I liked what he had to say. "I often say that when I am making a portrait, I'm not 'capturing' the other person. If the photograph documents anything, it is the space between the subject and myself."

And, this from the mother of the child Soth and his wife adopted, to the child, "I hope that the harshness of the world will not hurt your sensitivity. When I think about you, I hope that your life is full of beautiful things." Not very original, but it really touched me.

Some of Soth's pieces were fabulous. Others, so-so.

Was it today that Ginger told me about taking emotionally intimate pictures of good friends? Pictures that expressed more the of inner person, as opposed to the shell that people errect to protect themselves. Sounded very therapeutic and terrifying. Somehow I don't think I would sign release papers either to have strangers look at me at my most emotionally vulnerable. The concept intrigued me, but I fear that I am too self-protective to be an effective subject in such a study. I am learning more and more to be able to share my thoughts with others. But I guard my feelings very closely. As Wonder Woman once said of my Catanning ... I play it very close to the chest. There are certain people that I can be almost entirely honest and complete with, but they are few and far between.

Got over to the George Pompidou Center. Museum wasn't selling anymore tickets, but we poured over the Gift shop and the Book store. I'm entirely too vulnerable to the charm of a blank notebook. Bought several thin notebook/holder things that will be perfect for travelling and gifting.

Paris Day 21: Getting reacquainted with Ginger

No school today. Swept the apartment again. I don't know where all the fuzz comes from. And I wish I could get the washer/drier to work the way I want it to.

Met Ginger at Gare du Nord. Didn't recognize him at first. But he was so persistently standing in front of the Hagen Daz area, that I thought it must be him. I always expect his hair to be much darker. Anyway, good to see him again after all this time.

Called Patrice, but they'd cancelled the trip to Fontainebleu due to the weather.

Went back to apartment and dropped off stuff.

Walked and talked a lot. Weather not very bad in Paris at all. Finding restaurants is a bit of a challenge with dietary restrictions and such, but not to bad, given all the ethnic restaurants in the area.

Walked to Arc de Triomphe, where they were performing a veterans' ceremony at the flame commemorating the unknown soldier. One charming old vet had neither left leg for arm, but smiled all the same, and did his part holding a flag. I think they sang the Marseillese (sp?), and that I really enjoyed it.

Walked all the way back to the apartment. I don't think I've walked this much my entire trip.

Paris Day 20: Free at last (CN)

Saw mom and Aunt Yo off to a cab this morning. Ahhhhh! Free at last.

Was going to meet Veer to go for some outlet shopping on the outskirts of Paris, but I couldn't find the meeting place, and when it was 30 minutes late, I just gave up and turned to go home. Of course I saw it on the way back.

Bought pastries on the way home to take to Shewi's tonight.

Since I missed Veer, I comforted myself by going to Sephora and searching for a good red lipstick, since I've been envying Mezie's for the last week. Used to wear red lipstick all the time in college and when I would dress in vintage for dancing. But I haven't done it much in the last 6 years or so. Found a terrific shade, but there were none left! Searched for another twenty minutes and found a good one. Of course, I am too undisciplined to wear red lipstick well, but I realy enjoy it for the first 30 minutes or so.

Dinner over at Shewi's place in Marais. Was admiring all the shops on the walk over, telling myself that I needed to return when they were open. Shewi lives in a fabulous apartment that she is renting from a friend's aunt. Spacious studio with lots of room to relax, dine, cook, create, entertain.

Potluck: Shewi had the most delicious breads and side dishes. I especially loved the spicy tomatoe white beans. Also wines and blood orange juice. Mezie brought the most amazing cheeses. Veer brought pate', salmon and prosciutto. And I brought fancy pastry cakes. So much fun. Talked about the war in Iraq, agressive and passive French men, state of the family, current relationships, hoped for relationships, etc. Veer told us about Gerkin and we laughed until we cried. Shewi told us about her recent flirtation, and we gave her advice on how to text and converse in an open manner, since the guy is already "into her." The girls tried to give me advice on what to do when Ginger arrived. Shave your legs. Wear sexy lingerie. Have condoms ready. How could I explain that it wasn't like that at all? For many reasons, biggest of which is the whole religion factor. Anyway, it was a fabulous, Sex-in-the-City-esque evening.

Left around 0100. Passed a beggar on the way who importuned me. I cheerfully gave him a loaf of bread, which he stared at quizically.

Paris Day 19: Some places are not appropriate for lectures (CN)

To the Opera Garnier to satisfy Aunt Yo. Took forever to get those two out of the apartment. Opera house is guilded and large, and not much to my fancy. Would have preferred an English tour, but there was none available at the time we were there.

After, walked a bit. Aunt Yo saw La Maison du Chocolate, and wanted to stop and shop around. Mom was totaly not interested in the shishi-ness.

Walked to Laduree to get some fancy macaroons to send to Uncle Yu, and to get some for us to try. Very crowded. Aunt Yo just asked me to get a second identical box for her. Then scolded me when we left the shop for not getting extra bags for her to present them in. Maybe scolded is too strong. However, she lectured. A lot. As in, "I'm just trying to help you to be a better person, because giving presents in pristine bags is important to me." I was not interested in the least, but tried to pretend. Then she got upset that I wasn't listening very attentively.

Then we walked a bit to the restaurant that wasn't too far away, and that I thought the two would like. Unfortunately, they didn't open until 7:30, so I thought that we could go to the corner cafe to get something to drink, since it was starting to rain. Not a good idea, since Aunt Yo just wanted to go home. So, she lectured again. For 20 minutes in the rain on the corner in front of McDonalds. I explained that we could skip the restaurant and go back to the apartment. In the end, I had to repeat myself a few times so that she could understand what her options were, and we ended up taking the metro back to my apartment (around the same time that the restaurant would have opened), and eating again at the Le Partage (the Indo-Pakistani place). There were tears again on Aunt Yo's part, and much irritation on mine.

Paris Day 18: Personal time (CN)

Mom and Aunt Yo went to the Louvre, and I got some personal time. Huzzah!

After class, I went up to
Cimitere Pere Lachaise, where are buried such notaries as Abelard and Heloise, Chopin, Balzac, Jacques Louis David, Edith Piaf, Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde (who has the ugliest marker I've ever seen, but it's hilariously covered in lipstick kisses of his fans).

Walked by the Institute du Mondiale Arabe. Stunning building.

Aunt Yo tired (after JW tracting with Japanese speaking French) so mom and I ate at the corner brassiere, which was not great. Still not as bad as dinner at the Musee D'Orsay, though.

Paris Day 17: Versailles (cliffnotes)

Up early, but still left an hour later than I'd hoped.

Bought Le Passport: All Versaille entry, plus RER tickets.

Long lines at Versaille. We got into a line for timed tickets, and I got worried that we would get sent back, but it all merged at the front, and we passed in without incident.

Luxe. All the rooms sort of mash together. Didn't think I would like the Hall of Mirrors, but it is just beautiful, despite all the trimmings. Didn't know that queens gave birth before an audience in order to quell murmurings of heir tampering. No wonder Marie Antoinette wearied of the pomp and circumstance of the Versaille court, and wanted a separate area. Loved the dandelions that grow haphazardly over her grounds. I waxed romantically, and thought it was so fitting that the Sun King's wife had the sunny yello flowers strewn all over her grounds. Sun in the yellow flowers, moon in the puffballs.

Rented a bike as Superman recommended, and rode around the Grand Canal. It's been so long since I've been on a bike, and mine was a little rickety ... thought I might end up with a skinned elbow or two. But I was fine. It was like flying. So refreshing and delightful. With the music playing, I felt as if I could have been a courtier promenading around the magnificent grounds.

Walked a bit around the gardens (no bikes allowed). Love the music and the fountains spraying, especially the Enceladus fountain, which seemed to be bellowing operatic music with the water spray.

Orangerie was just lovely.

And I love hedge rows.

Paris Day 16: Taking some space (cliffnotes)

Went to the open market across the street for mom and Aunt Yo to have a look-see. Found some of the salad greens that I've been relishing at restaurants.

Out to Arc de Triomphe. Neither Aunt Yo nor mom wanted to go inside, so I skipped it yet again.

Walked for a bit along the Champs Elysee. But having gone a block or two, Aunt Yo was ready to be done.

Took metro to start of the garden area of the Champs Elysee.

Then took the metro out to Place de la Concorde, and walked a bit in the Tuillerie. But Aunt Yo didn't want to walk anymore. So, we exited the park and took the metro back to my apartment.

At the intersection of two lines, Aunt Yo decided that she was okay to go back to the apartment by herself (she had to be back in time to change and get ready for her JW meeting ... she's extremely devout and ALWAYS goes to [at least] weekly meetings, no matter where in the world she is). So, we let her go!

Mom and I went out to Montmartre!!! Was going to take the funiculaire, but mom said that she was okay to climb the stairs, so we did. Seemed as if everyone in Paris was out on the butte. However, the view from the top was amazing.

Sacre Coeur was, as MeMc said, a little jewel box of a church. I loved the modern-ish stained glass. It reminded me a little of the stained glass wonder in Morocco. We rested a bit and cooled off and contemplated the Byzantine splendor of the interior.

After, we walked and found the Musee de Montmartre. Fascinating. I wish more of it was in English. Or that I understood more French. Or that I'd read up on it more before coming. The subject is going on my reading list.

Walked a bit and saw the oldest moulin, which is now a restaurant. Skipped the Moulin Rouge.

The Abbesses metro station has the longest spiral staircase of any metro station I've ever been in!

Dinner at Le Partage, the restaurant on the ground floor of my building. Indo-Pakistani food. The head-waiter (owner?) had invited me earlier in my stay. Very nice. Wanted to bring us (alcoholic) drinks, but since we don't drink, he brought us specialty juices instead. Food very good. Took a very long time to get the check, Is it politeness to let us have the table for the entire night? Nice, but what I really wanted to do was go to the RER station and buy the tickets for Versaille. Aunt Yo came home from her meeting just after we'd ordered dessert. A little over an hour from that time, mom left to go upstairs because she couldn't wait to go to the bathroom any longer. Finally got the check, paid, and hiked over to St. Michel, but the caisse was closed. Oh well.

Paris Day 15: Of Stone and Steel (cliffnotes)

Went to The Rodin Museum today. Favorite piece was Le Main de Dieu. Literally, Adam and Eve craddled in the hand of God. Took my breath away. Definitely prefer marble over bronze pieces.

Also saw special Camille Claudel exhibit. I loved The Waltz, in all the various configurations that they had.

Dinner at Cafe Constant. Third restaurant on my list, but it was wonderful. We were the first ones there, and waited a bit at the tables outside until they opened. Delicious food! Highly recommend it.

Over to the Eiffel Tower. It's spectacular. More later. Unable to buy ticket to third level at the bottom. Then, when we were at the second level, they started letting people up to the third level. Pain to get to a machine that would let us buy tickets. Then had to wait in line. Finally got to top and stayed for a bit. Home late. Walked a bit long the Seine to the RER station. Then Aunt Yo had a fit about walking from St. Michel to my apartment. I was annoyed, but decided not to make a big deal of it. But Aunt Yo and my mother got into it, and a few harsh words were said. Feelings were hurt. And I think they just decided to disagree. This from my elementary Japanese ...

Paris Day 14: Finding ways to get along (cliffnotes)

After class, went back to apartment to pick up mom and Aunt Yo.

To Luxemborg gardens, since Aunt Yo expressed a desire to see famous gardens. However, it wasn't really her thing.

Checked out St. Suplice. I hope to come back for an organ concert after Sunday mass, or on 4/29.

Musee D'Orsay. Aunt Yo needed some special attention to find a place to sit and relax and have some refreshment. It's not a generational difference, because my mother is just like me ... energetic and wanting to see everything. Aunt Yo is like a prim and proper lady from the 50's. Most of the time it's fine. Sometimes it's maddening.

Loved C. Claudel's "Age of Maturity," and the display on Le Chat Noir. The rest is a bit of a blur right now.

Had dinner at the museum cafe, which was recommended. In a word, it was horrible. The worst dinner I hope to have in my stay in Paris!

Paris Day 13: Company arrival (cliffnotes)

Mother and Aunt Yo arrived today. Went to CDG to pick them up. Met, and took taxi back to city without any hitches.

Dinner at cafe in front of Notre Dame, where I had dinner with Pas before.

Paris Day 7: A hodge-podge of posh

After class today, I took the metro out to the Arc de Triomphe. Sadly, it was closed due to a strike, and I couldn't climb to the top. It is immense, formidable and grand, and I marvelled at the intricacy of the carvings as I walked around and through it. I paid tribute to the unknown soldier, and imagined what it would have been like to see the Allied forces parading to the Arc after the liberation of Paris.

Walked down the Champs Elysee, even stopping to shop. Okay, it was at the Nike store, for a top to wear dancing (I like the yoga/dance inspired athletic wear because of the dri-weave), but still!

I love the garden areas of the Champs Elysee. The trees are so green, and the flower beds are so pretty, that it's easy to disregard the cars and imagine that there are fancy carriages transporting the gentry for their afternoon cruising. Decided that the day was too beautiful not to indulge in a Nutella crepe.

I cut over to the side, and found the Laduree shop that Little Voice recommended for macaroons. So, I intended to buy four mini-macaroons. At the register, it seems as if the guy had put five in the bag, and then the register lady added an extra one, the reasoning is still a mystery to me. The macaroons were heavenly. Thank goodness they are small.

Wandered a little further, and came upon the Eglise Madeleine. What good luck! I'd seen an advertisement for a concert of Mozart's Requiem and Vivaldi's Magnificat, and had been meaning to look it up. The church is very large, much larger than the small one around the corner where I heard the Chopin concert. Anyway, I liked the sculpture at the top in front ... Christ in in the center, with many images on either side, but Mary Magdalene sits just to his left. I suppose it would have been more fitting to have her on his right. Whatever, I liked that there is a cathedral that honors the significance of her discipleship. She was a devout follower of Christ, and was the first mortal to whoom he appeared.

Went then to see the
Paris Story movie. Can't really recommend it, since I fell asleep for about 15 minutes, I think.

Also stopped by the Fragonard Perfume Museum. It would have been more interesting if they had had the English guide. But they didn't, and although I tried it with the Italian guide, I quickly tuned out. I sampled a few of the solid perfumes, but none of them appealed more than the perfume I got duty-free, so I left without spending any money there. I wish more fragrance companies made solid perfume ... it's so much more convenient than spray bottles! Much easier to pack, and one doesn't have to douse oneself, but can discreetly place a little bit at strategic spots.


Made my way back to the Place du Concord, and entered the Tuileries Gardens that lead up to the Louvre. Again, I love the trees. Eventhough there are many people walking and sitting and eating about, there is a certain air of seclusion and privacy as I meader through the tree paths. It's too bad I haven't a lover here. Or at all for that matter.

I finally get to the fountain pool at the end, and indeed, there are children shrieking over their miniature sail boats. I with I had Precious' knack with a camera. I love her picture of the colorful sailboats. I may have to ask her if I can make a large print of it and some of her other Eiffel Tower photos.

And then over to see Pei's pyramid that marks the touristy entrance to the Louvre. There are many people in line, and I am disinclined to enter at this time. Maybe a nighttime entrance when there are fewer people? I marvel at the juxtaposition of Pei's ultra-modern spaced pyramids, amid the baroque (I'm guessing here) surrounding buildings. I'm generally not a fan of ultra-modern anything, but I liked what Pei did. Only I wondered where they got the shot of Tom Hanks crawling over the Louvre at the very end. Don't worry if you didn't see the film ... it wasn't very good.

Continued walking through to the courtyard at the far end, and was charmed by a couple of classical musicians playing for pennies (or dimes, as the euro is so strong).

And then a short walk back to my apartment. Once there, I fuzzled about wanting to go out again for the concert. And the going-out-side won the debate.

In short, the concert was amazing. The Magnificat was performed by a 10 piece (or so) string orchestra, with a violin soloist who was, as the title reads, magnificent. Her fingers were so nimble that often I would see her fingers move down the fingerboard to the waist, and only then hear the music run up the scale. And the music! It gave me the thrills throughout my body that I had missed at the Chopin concert. The reverberation in the church was at times disconcerting. I counted it as about 3.5 to 4 seconds.

The Requiem (D Minor?) was superb. The conductor wore tails, and had the floppy, frizzy, gray hair that seems so appropriate for a man who pulls such excellent music from instrumental and vocal musicians. The Requiem was rich, vibrant, passionate and minor in the way I love. Again, thrills galore, on top of the shivering because it was so frigid in the marble church. My favorite part of the Requiem is the Lacrimosa. When I get home I'll have to get the cd's from Spork, who turned me on to the music in the first place. The music was performed by an orchestra, a large choir, and four soloists.

Wandered back to my apartment (no glistening this time!), and found a reminder that it was my turn to post at
The Exponent. If you haven't checked out our new site, you should give it a gander. Pilgrimsteps has put a momentous amount of work into customizing it, and it looks just fantastic. Here is my post, on Paris, of course!

Paris Day 6: Pilgrimage to Chartres

Was going to walk along the Champs Elysee today, but it was so fine, that I decided to journey out to Chartres. It's a UNESCO World Heritage site. Secularly, it's known for being the best preserved representation of Gothic architecture. It survived the revolution in France because the explosives expert said that to demolish it would create too much ruble and block the roads. During WWII, the famous stained glass windows were removed and stored in the countryside for safe kepping. It's truly grand and spectacular, with towering ceilings, brilliant stained glass, flying buttresses everywhere, and instricate scuplture all over.

On the ecclesiastical side, it's a Marian pilgrimage site. Somewhere back in the 9th century, Charles the Bald (what a name ... too bad he didn't just shave it off ike Aggasse!) gave Chartres the Sancta Camisia, a piece of cloth that Mary was supposed to have worn when she gave birth to Christ. In the 12th century, a fire burned down most of the building, but the fabric was found miraculously preserved, and motivated benefactors and townspeople alike to build another cathedral in 30 short years to celebrate Notre Dame. The small bit of fabric that remains is encased in an ornate glass case, which seems as odds with such a humble garment. Picture in your mind an aged piece of linen (the fabric, not the collective term), gently yellowed, and you won't be far off.

There is also a labyrinth inscribed in the stonework of the cathedral main floor, where the faithful would make a symbolic pilgrimage in honor of Mary. I would have liked to walk it, but it was mostly covered with chairs. Interestingly enough, the near rose window pictured above is equidistant from the corner of floor and wall, so that if the wall fell into the church, the window would cover the labyrinth.

I took the afternoon tour with Malcom Miller, a rather crusty-looking, but actually gentle British scholar who has focused and continues to focus his life on this cathedral. He discussed two stained glass windows in particular. The first was donated to the cathedral by the shoemakers' guild of the time. It features a couple of corner shoemaker images, but the body of the window recounts the parable of the Good Samaritan and the biblical account of Adam and Eve's fall. It was the first time I'd ever thought about the link between the two. Adam, Eve and the Waylaid man representing humankind, and the Seed of the Woman and the Good Samaritan representing Christ.

Miller also reviewed the "zodiac" window. It shows the symbols of the zodiac, and how they were used to note the passage of time during the year.

I think my favorite window, besides the glorious rose windows, which were too far away to actually tell if there were visual stories, was the one of Mary in the blue robe, holding the Christ-child. Something about the expression on her face, or the luminescent quality of her robes just entranced me.

Sadly, I wasn't able to climb to the top of the north tower. The last tour commenced just after Miller's tour began. Sad, since P. Frommer said that there were more afternoon tours, and I'd expected to be able to ascend. Should have read R. Steve's info bit instead!

I did take the tour of the crypt, but it was all in French, and the guide was no Christine. In fact, there was no interaction between him and the other five people on the tour ... we might have been using an audio guide. The crypt, like the rest of the cathedral, was bone-chillingly cold. G's, t-shirt, sweater, raincoat with liner, alpaca shawl, hat, gloves, and I was still freezing. Sad to say, the crypt was a non-event. No bones, just less-fancy stained glass windows for a bunch of little chapels.

Paris Day 5: Why woman and wife are the same word in French

Une femme = a woman. Un homme = a man (I think there may be an apostraphe, but I'm not sure)
Ma femme = my wife (or literaly, my woman). Mon mari = my husband

Christine generally uses issues or situations to help us learn French. Today we talked about possesives, and different types of living spaces. My/your/their/etc mother/father/etc, lives in a(n) apartment/house/condo/etc.

As of 2002, France's divorce rate is 38.3% of marriages. And since divorces are so costly and lengthy here, more and more people are just living together, forming what I guess are common-law marriages. Christine used a term, which I think sounded something like "Pax," but I could be entirely wrong.

Then again, the US divorce rate was 45.8%. That's one thing that we beat the French at ...

Paris Day 4: Mon premiere cours en Francais

First day of French class at Lutece Langue. I walk, since it's just a few blocks ... quicker to walk than change metro stations, especially with the stairs! It's very cold in the morning, and while I'm enjoying my hat and gloves, I wish I'd have brought a heavier coat. Then again, when I get to school, I have to peel off the layers as soon as I enter the building, since by then I'm starting to glisten.

Class is small and informal. Christine is the teacher ... medium-ish everything: height, weight, hair, etc. But she's very animated, in a style tres Parisienne. It's pretty easy to understand when she speaks French, because she gestures a lot, and speaks more slowly, and pronounces words more distinctly than the general Parisian. The class reminds me a lot of when Francesca taught my beginning Italian class at UCI. We try not to speak English at all, and there is lots of participation.

The class is small ... 4-7 people depending on the day of the week, and time slot. I'm in the intensive program, so I take 3 hours every weekday. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but by 1215, I'm ready to be done. The other people in the class ...

Diana, from Texas. Retired teacher (of what I don't know). She's probably in her mid-60's. Feminist, as I later found out. Has been staying with her sister in Paris for 2 months now, and decided it was time to learn some French. She's lived in Europe and the Middle East, in what she describes as her hippy days. I would never have thought it, since she appears to be a trim little grandmother-type who's come to Paris for a two week vacation. She is a total eager beaver, and tends to dominate class time, although with lots of bonhomie.

Maria and Cayo are mother and son from Brazil. They are in Paris for an extended time because the father of the family is working here for a while. They frequently lapse into Portuguese since Maria tends to have a difficult time picking up French. It's interesting to listen, because I can pick up tendrils of their chatter since Portuguese is a cousin to Spanish.

Amanda is from Australia, and seems to also be on extended vacation in Paris. From what I can gather, she's been to Italy on this same trip, and has family scattered all over the world. I'm jealous that she has a credit card with a chip, and can use the city rental bicycles, eventhough the walk to school is quite pleasant. If pressed, I'd guess she's in her mid to late twenties. I think her pronunciation is the best, although she often gets stuck for a word, and clucks her tongue until she can find other words to describe the one she's searching for. She uses her imagination when we have to make up situation dialogues, and makes me laugh.

Jason is from somewhere in the states, and seems to be a yoga-inspired kind of guy. Very tanned. Fit. Wears loose/flowy pants. I had no idea that Paris would be the kind to attract serious yoga practitioners for extended visits, but one never knows. I'd put him at mid-twenties. Aside from Diana, Jason is the most vocal, and although his pronunciation isn't as good at Amanda's, he does pretty well.

Veronica is another US expat. Don't know a lot about her, since she's been ill recently, and has missed a lot of classes.

After class, I stopped by the nearby H&M, ostensibly to get another shirt for dancing (who knew there would be so much of it?), and ended up getting a smart belted jacket as well. Of course, it would have been better to get a warmer one than the one I brought with me, but all the clothes in the stores are focused on resort-wear, despite the frigid temperatures. Also stopped by a large department store (CBH? everything from fashion to hardware) to get a folder and hole punch to organize my class handouts. We don't use a single text book, but zeroxed handouts that we're given daily. On the one hand, it's nice not to have to pay for a book, on the other hand, it would have been nice to have a reference book. I still say it's a shame that dad tossed out JLITH's beginning French textbook, especially since there are so many other things that I wish he would toss out instead.

I also stopped at a bakery to get a fresh baguette to eat with my cheese. Shall I jsut say that fresh bread deserves a moment of silence ...

Back at the apartment, I started a spreadsheet to track my expenses. Whew, the money goes fast, especially since the dollar is so down. All I can say is huzzah for no foreign transaction fees on my credit card, and all that overtime I did the last few months.

And also huzzah for free WiFi. Was able to chat wih Wry-an and Perky for a bit.

Day 1

Well, it's been a challenging day. The kind that might prompt me to ask, "What else could go wrong?" except that I'm afraid to hear the answer ...

White Boy came and picked me up in the wee hours of the morning to take me to the airport. On a whim, he decided to park and walk me in. I was amused, then incrdibly grateful. At ticket counter, I wasn't able to check in on the do-it-yourselfer machine. After a kindly (but rather stressed out lady) started helping me, we found out that a paper ticket had been issued to JLITH. And apparently she had tried to send it to me, but I'd never received it. It took some 'splaining (it was a gift, JLITH isn't even flying, she's in SLC, she's already started at work and may be unreachable in the OR, etc) but luckily they took my word that I lived on M street, and they put me through. White Boy got seom hackles up, which spared me having to ruffle my own in public, and let me use his handy-dandy cell phone (mine was neither handy, since I'd left it at home; nor dandy in the least bit since it's the pure basic kind without even a camera since I hate talking on it so much) to call and agitate all of my relatives on how to get a hold of JLITH before my plane took off without me. And actually, we didn't really need to talk to her in the end, although I'll bet Ms. Kind-and-even-more-stressed-out would have liked to just to get the final okay. Somehow along the way the story ended up that I was in the hospital, but that just shows that you shouldn't believe everything that you hear. Ms. KAEMSO trotted me to the front of the security line, with White Boy graciously toting my heavy bag, and saw me through.

When I boarded the plane, I happened to glance at my pass, and was a little concerned that it only went as far as New York. But I was so grateful to have gotten this far that I decided not to worry about it just then.

So it was that I got onto the first plane.

We arrived in New York without further incident. Until I started to look around for my boarding pass. Uh oh. Looked again. And again. Couldn't find it. Oh no.

Got off the plane and got in line at the counter to ask about what I should do. Then I started to panic. What if the had only sent my one checked bag to New York instead of all the way to Paris? I panicked, and hurried over to the baggage claim area. And searched and searched, but to no avail. I started feeling that I had been a flibbity-gibbet and that I should have stayed back where I'd deplaned, but it was too late to go back. When it became apparent that my bag was not going to come rushing down the chute and into my arms, I consulted the calming lost baggage guy. Huzzah! Baggage HAD been checked all the way to Paris. Now I just had to get on the plane!

Got myself up to the ticketing area. Oops, it was supposed to be for First class. However, the guy must have sensed my desperation, because he listened to my story, made a few calls, and was able to reprint my boarding pass. He told me to hurry and scoot, since the gate was a long, a very long walk. I gave him my heartfelt thanks, and started to scoot.

And scoot. And scoot. And even scoot some more. Turns out that Gate 8 is THE FARTHEST GATE from the Delta counter. And as my body started to protest from the weight of my carry-on, I started to glisten. A lot. So much so that when I saw the sign for Gate 8, I celebrated by going into the nearest bathroom, and wiping myself down and changing my tops. Which I should have done after the plane took off, since the PA sounded with the last call for my flight. This time I told my protesting body to shut it while I went into hyper-mode and made it onto the plane.

On the plane, I met Antrim (like tantrum without the T), my seat mate. In the eventt of an accident, we were to help people out of the emergency exit. What it really meant is that we got double the leg room! Antrim is a photojournalist who has been working on covering the destruction of the Appalacian Mountains by a form of mining known as mountain top removal. Yes, that's right ... they just cut off the tops of mountains. We talked about a lot of things. Well, mostly I listened, but it was fascinating to hear her discourse on land and culture destruction, depopulation of the Appalacians, pollution, renewable energy, etc. And then we crashed out and slept.

When we arrived in Paris, I offered her a ride into the city. And why not? It seemed like the BackrubS thing to do, and I want to be the kind of person who makes travel buddies as easily as he does. Our driver was very handsome, and the talk into town was congenial. Turns out that the driver had not received the keys from the rental agency, so we were going to swing by the office to retrieve them, then he would successivly drop off me and Antrim at our respective locations, for no extra charge. How charming.

Except, he was gone a lot longer than the three minutes it should have taken to retrieve the keys. Sure enough, he came back and told us that the keys were not there. He could still take Antrim to make her appointment, but that I might want to have a drink at a nearby cafe until the rental agency opened. Good grief! Well, what could I do? He settled me into a cozy cafe (inside, since it was still pretty chilly outside), and I waited. Fortunately, there was free WiFi, and I was able to check my email, reassure my JLITH that I was corporeally just fine, and draft up some of the post before the office opened.

So, after about 40 minutes, I meandered ... wait, that's not the right word. You can't meander down a road when you're pulling an extremely heavy, wheeled, slightly unstable duffle bag (I left the good one at home because it was just a little too small), with an extremely heavy carry-on, while slightly sleep deprived. That goes against the very grain of "meandering." So ... I lugged my self and stuff down a chic sideroad in the 1st arrondisement to the rrental agency. And was met with confusion. V, who had helped me through the rental process thus far, was not in the office. And for some uncommunicated reason, I was not going to be able to use the apartment I had agreed to rent. They offered an upgrade, which made me happy, but also screwed up my plans, which didn't involved lugging my things another two blocks to a cab-able area, only to cross and re-cross a street so that I could get cash from an ATM to pay the cabbie (I'd given my fiver to the handsome driver to thank him for his extra trouble for me and Antrim), find a small store to buy something very small so that I would have change for the ccab, and having to mentally rearrange my idea of where I would be able to use the metro. And really, I don't mind crossing streets, there was just the painful reality of the lugging.

After I'd finally positioned myself in a prime cab-able location, it seemed that every cab was already taken. As I was hailing my fourth cab that turned out to be occupied (hey, the sun was in my eyes ... Hurray for sun on my first day in Paris), the older cabbie turned and motioned me toward the cabbie on the opposite side of the road, who was pulling over to stop. Again with the lugging across the road! But I was happy to me automatively mobile again. 8.5 euros later (which the rental agency is supposed to reimburse), I was at my new digs. Yay!

Made it through the front gate, and made my way to the second set of stairs. Went up to the second floor as instructed. ANd put my key into the door on the left. Or at least, I tried to put the key in. But it wouldn't go. Neither of the keys fit either of the holes. Moley! And I thought I heard voices on the other side of the door. So, I tried the other two doors to the right. Hey, the lady at the rental agency had told me that the ATM would be on the left side, but it was actually on the right side of the road. But to no avail. The keys I had fit none of the doors on the second floor.

Then, I had a flash of intuition. I left all my baggage on the second floor and went up one more level. And tried a key in the door on the left. Success. Must remember that first US floors are seroeth floors to the French. Just then, a guy came out of the door on the right. Overcome with embarrassment, I hurried to the first (!) floor to collect my things, since they were blocking the entire stairwell (it's a small stairwell). When he saw my predicament, he offered to help me carry up my bags. It could have been the start of a lovely friendship, but I was so weary and awkward that I didn't even ask his name, jsut thanked him profusely.

And so I put my keys into the lock and pushed. Then pulled. Then turned some more. I waited until my neighbor was beyong hearing before I started lecturing the door. It took a good twenty minutes, but it finally listened and opened. I'll just say that there had been lots and lots of glistening over the course of the day, and this last bit was no exception.

The apartment is cute. Very small studio (just a tad bit smaller than my entire bedroom, not counting the closet), but there are two twin beds pushed together, a mini washer/dryer, a little kitchenette, a phone and tv, a two-seater table, a closet toilet, and a tiny shower. And it will do just fine.

But the adventure doesn't stop there. Oh no.

I unpacked, and made my was to school. Bought my Carte Orange metro pass, and didn't annoy too many people learning which part to put through the machine. And made it to the Alliance Francaise campus. Waited in the wrong line until I was directed to the right one. Where they gave me a test and told me to go up to the testing room. When I got there, I had to be redirected to the quiet area, then I eyed the exam. And almost laughed out loud in said quiet area. Maybe they just didn't understand that I was a complete beginner. Yes, I had learned some phrasing and pronunciation, but I hadn't the slightest idea how the words looked, or how to conjugate verbs in the slightest. I made a show of taking the test, then sheepishly waited for someone to grade it and acknowledge that I needed the beginning class. Which they did in short order. The problem? All three beginner classes were full. And there were no plans to open another. Talk about a stinging disappointment! The website had said that all that was needed was to come in before the first day of class to arrange for placement, and so I'd scheduled the entire trip around taking this course. Yes, there were others, but I'd chosen this one ... mostly for the housing connection, which I didn't end up using ... and it was a blow. I made my way back to the apartment to reassess my options. Luckily I still had the spreadsheet with the schools I'd researched, and there was one other school that had a Monday start date.

So I was off like a shot. Meaning, that I left my good map on the computer, and made my way without. Lutece Langue was a little difficult to locate. It's just north of Notre Dame, but it's a suite in a much larger building. The outfit looks much smaller and informal when compared to AF, but the class size is also about six, compared to eighteen. Anyway, the staff seems intimate, friendly, and very invested in helping their students, so I'm excited about the whole thing.

Left LL and made my way back to my apartment. Passed a quaint church that had fliers for some evening classical concerts, and took some dates down.

And then, I got lost. Wandering hungrily, since I was looking for a particular restaurant with my less than stellar map. I finally gave in and got a pizza-looking thing at a charcuterie. And wanderred some more because I realy just wanted to take a nap at my apartment. It took about twenty more minutes, and then I was in heaven.

Woke up an hour later, feeling refreshed and ready for something to go right. Made my way down to the church I'd seen earlier to buy a concert ticket for some Chopin. Found it exactly on the first try. It's just down a couple blocks, next to the Shakespearre book store that Pilgrimsteps told me about. Bought a cheap ticket, and got the second best seat.

Ronald Boyer was the pianist. His deft and numble fingers were perfect. And while I had no thrills during the performance, I was pleased, and there was much to admire. Confess that I always wonder about Chopin. His music is so whimsical and yet so complexly layered. Chopin has bursts of passion, but the whimsy is never far off. I wonder about his life, especially the time that he was with Georges Sand, who I also wonder about. She wrote, "There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved." She was a writer, a feminist, a Baroness, and flouted many conventions of her day. What would she say about the status of women today? She goes on my list of strong women to find good biographies about.

And now I've come back to my Parisian home. And unloaded everything. Bravo/a to you if you're still reading. I probably won't be as detailed in the future, but hopefully there will be more to tell, and I'll be busy doing it.

Rush Blogging: the rest of the trip

Everything is getting so smooshed in my brain, it's hard to keep it all in order.

Wentt with Genie and the kids to see JLITH at the hospital. Fun to wander around and see where she spends almost all of her waking (and non-waking hours). After Genie and the kids left, JLITH got me in to change into scrubs, and she took me around the units and areas where she spends most of her time. When I left, it was snowing. But after I'd gottend down the hill a bit, it turned into just plain rain.

More dancing at the MAC on Saturday. Competitions started very late. Probably because they had to start them after GC priesthood session got out. Tookus very sore by the end of the night. Would have been better to break up the different competitions by having at leas two or three social dances between each set. Courage was back tonight, and got a lot of dances. Hurray!

Had lunch over at One World Everyone Eats. JLITH was supposed to join us, be she ended up not being able to leave the hospital. Great concept: tasty food with a humanitarian goal. I was interested in volunteering, but didn't have a food specialist certificate or any abilities with plants. So I just gave more money. This may turn into one of my SLC faves.

Genies made some great middle-eastern good. Tabuleh, and couscous with a delicious apricot and lamb stew.

Went to go see Becoming Jane with JLITH at the Dollar movie theatre. Confess that I wasn't exactly keen on the movie, but it was cheap, and time alone with my sister. To my surprise, it had very little of the mocking, lighthearted social commentary that I've come to associate with Austen's novels. Yes, it did have a lot of heaving chests and piercing looks that seem so commonplace nowadays. But there were moments when my desbelief was actually suspended, and I was totally caught up in the idea of tragic sacrifices for love. Makes me want to find a really good biography of Austen and just get to know her. Same as for Alcott, Potter, Montgonmery and Woolf. I would like to ask these great minds how and what they thought about their world and their place in it. I think I would find a very different point of view than what some really conservative and pushy commenters on the X2 blog and constantly refraining on ... even while we permabloggers are trying to play nice and not lambaste them.

Over the The Discovery Center with Genie, Bean One and Bean Three (Bean Two being in school at the time). So funny to watch them interact with their environment and the other children. Of course Bean Three is too young to interact with other children his age, and so he just wants to find fun things to touch and chew. However, I think Bean One is unused to being in situation where he is not the biggest kid. And besides his performance anxiety, and trying to take turns with other children like this mother teaches him to, I think he just gets frustrated easily. So, I saw him holding back while the other rowdier (and bigger) children were crowding around some the the exhibits and not letting anyone else in. And when they had moved on, I saw Bean One happy at being able to do the things he wanted to ... to the exclusion of some other kids his own size.

Dinner at Sawadee with JLITH. I was so full from eating tabuleh, that I couldn't hardly eat any of it. Instead, we just had a good chat. Had thought about buying her an ipod so that she would have something to listen to on her trips to India and Egypt, but she's already gotten one for mom. So, I loaded a bunch of TAL episodes, and classical and Christmas (hey, I was in the mood) music on it for them to enjoy on their trips.

Decided Monday morning that that would be a perfect day to go see the Timpanogos Ice Caves. I'd gone to see some at the base of Mount Fuji, and they were quite spectacular. So, why not? Well, for one, the entrance to the cave is reached by a 1.5 mile hike. Not so bad, 1.5 miles. Except that the elevation gain was almost 1200 feet. And, I didn't have hiking boots, only my trusty dansko clogs. Going up was hard. I hate ascending switchbacks. Was shamed into kicking up the pace when a couple of kids came running down the path shouting back, "Okay grandma! We're halfway down!" Well, if grandma can get up the mountain ...! Caves were fun. Didn't photograph very well, but fascinating to see the different types of ice formations. Hike down was miserable. Since my feet hurt too much to walk straight down the trail (clogs that don't lace up), I had to zigzag down ... which no doubt lead to the aching in my outer calves that lasted almost a week!

Lunch with FGITW at Macaroni Grill, my first time ever. Cute waiter that FGITW chatted up because he looked so much like Dexter (or some other such tv actor).

Dancing at MAC again on Tuesday night. THe soreness hadn't reached peak levels yet (read: it was still on the rise), so I was able to get in a few good dances without hobbling like granny). Talked a bit more with Utah Swing Ambassador, who has some info which will make my next trip a little more interesting.

Left early Wed morning and drove and drove and drove. So soooooo glad to be home.