Getting to the Hotel was a challenge in itself, though. I did NOT pack lightly for this trip, so am not super 'mobile'. I didn't want to navigate countless sets of stairs/escalators, so set my mind on splurging and getting a taxi. I really hate the approach to taxi's in France. I am really glad that we can just hail them back in the US... it's just a pain, to be quite honest. I found a taxi queue pretty quickly, but then found myself in the middle of what I describe as 'policeman pandemonium'. I do not know what was going on, but there were police everywhere. I started to count, and there were 14 police vans in this intersection. No idea what was going on, but policemen were running all over the place - many with very large guns & wearing those 'turtle' outfits... so pretty much any cabbie in his right mind was avoiding the area, so I gave up & went bck to the train station & decided to just take the metro. I wasn't sure what line to take, but I must have looked lost as this Frenchman approached me. I must do the 'I have no idea where I'm going' look mastered as this is not the first time I've been approached to see if I need help. And it's usually by a 'suave' French man.
I'm going to take time now to discuss how incredibly different French men are. They are direct. And full of 'lines'. They love to take your hand & kiss it. It's what you see in movies when French men are portrayed, and I thought it was probably an exaggeration. It's not. After telling me which line I needed to take to get to where I wanted to go, the gentleman, let's call him Frenchy, asked if I knew 'what the source of my elegance' was. I was like - excuse moi? I was wearing a comfy travel outfit, had no make up on, had flip flops on, and my hair was in a messy up-do. Not exactly the stuff of elegance. He then proceeded to tell me that the drama of my eyes was the source of my elegance. Right, Frenchy. As I have done the other times I've been sort of 'approached' by French men, I made up a boyfriend back home... which I've learned isn't the most effective way to scare them off, as they start saying things like, 'and how could your American boyfriend let you come over here alone?' etc, etc. So yah, French men are pretty confident & persistent. Maybe since they can't really get anywhere by being enthusiastic at work, given the rigidity of their employment system, they have to have an outlet for it....
Anyways, so after getting to my hotel buying tickets for tonight's concert at St Chapelle, I figured I earned myself some dessert. So I stopped at my favorite little bakery near my hotel & had this delicious little tart. Sort of like a cheesecake with a different sort of crust - almost pie crust-like, but more firm. Was delicious and a nice way to treat myself.
Tonight I am meeting up with Anna, Yulia's friend. We are going to a concert at St Chapelle, the church w/ all the stained glass windows that I saw on the first lag of my trip. I believe the musician being featured is Beethoven. After the concert, we are going to have dinner in the area. St Chapelle is located on the same island as Notre Dame; it's a really cute area with lots of little restaurants. I am planning on playing it safe tonight with my meal - actually am really hoping to find some roasted chicken. The French have allegedly mastered this, and I have yet to have that dish since I arrived so hopefully we find a restaurant that serves it! It's nice to know I'll have my own personal translator, Anna, to help me navigate the menu!
Au Revoir for now...
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