Since we were there early, we had some time to visit the Tuileries Garden which was across the street. All of the grassy areas were marked with signs indicating that one was not supposed to walk there. Look closely at the picture. If this hobo had tripped on said sign, I might have mistaken him for my father.
We boarded the bus for Versailles, with the obnoxious Americans (not us). Once there, we were mobbed by Japanese tour groups. They insisted upon taking pictures, even though there were multiple signs forbidding such. We eventually gave in and joined them. One of us...one of us...one of us....
We were supposed to catch the tour bus at noon, but were done at the chateau around 11. So we ditched the bus. They may still be waiting for us, but we took a train back into Paris. Our first stop was the overrated Basilica de Sacre-Coeur. This was, however, where I ate my first Parisian crepe (strawberry). We were constantly approached by scam artists who try to tie a piece of string on you and make you pay for it and people selling plastic Eiffel Towers.
We climbed to the top of the stairs, but didn't make it into the Basilica before we wanted to get out of there. The view is great, but not worth the hassle:
Back on the Metro, our next stop was the Opera Garnier. There was a ballet beginning shortly after we arrived, so we only got to see the exterior and the lobby. From there we walked to Place Vendome. On our way back to the Metro, we were behind a group of British young men. Attempting to decide what to do, one suggested that they sit in a cafe all day, drink wine, eat a baguette, paint little moustaches on their faces, and say "ooo la la" and laugh nasally all afternoon. It made me want to join them.
Palais Royale was our next stop, and this is where we saw the string orchestra playing on the sidewalk. The building was under construction (they were installing a large sculpture in the courtyard), but the trees were perfectly angular:
While sitting in the courtyard here, we spotted six French teenagers, all wearing berets. By the time we left Paris, I had counted 21.
At the Bastille Opera, we were approached by a young French couple, who immediately started speaking to us in French. We didn't quite understand at the time, but upon further reflection, they were wondering what Jeff was photographing (a typical crowd scene).
It was also at this location that I asked an old lady for directions to Victor Hugo's Maison (in French). She responded (in French, of course), and I followed (pretty much). I only got us a little lost. Jeff tolerated this stop. I love going to museums where everyone else is over 70 and wearing tweed. As we left, and old man who resembled Jean Valjean was setting up a display on the sidewalk. Upon stepping out from under the awning, a little drop of rain fell on my forehead. I did manage to restrain myself from bursting into song on the spot.
We had one final stop, and that was the Arenes de Lutece. These are the ruins of ancient Paris, and have now been converted to a children's park. There were kids climbing all over them and playing football amongst them.
For dinner, we had our first encounter with a waiter who did NOT have perfect English. We were actually glad to be forced to use French for all of our communication. After dinner, there was the required trip to the crepe stand - and my first taste of Nutella.
