Under The Bridges Of Paris

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The rays of sunlight found their way to my face and warmed my skin until I stretched like a kitten, basking in the Vitamin D that was insistent on refreshing me. I woke up late again, finally realizing that I am getting some kind of sickness. I have been trying to defy my body, but I think that this bug is stronger than I am. Oh well, it was sunny, so I couldn’t complain.

I dashed to the living room windows and flung them open with delight, letting in a warm breeze and more of that beautiful sun. It was so delightful. The rest of the week is supposed to get cold again, so I must enjoy today. I made myself finish making my flashcards before I left, trying not to think what a dreary, weary, pointless task that was. Most of the vocabulary doesn’t even deal with baking. Oh, I’ll show you in photo:

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When I had finished that stupidity, I grabbed my lightest sweater and hurried outside to take a walk along the river. There was an art fair around the Bastille. Art fairs always make me very angry and thoughtful, because I realize that I can make some of those horrible modern things and sell them for seventy euros with no qualms. It’s easy money, every doctor’s office and hotel would love to have affordable, original, art. I’ll have to work on that.

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The street crossings were as busy as any day in New York City, which was odd to me, it was so busy everywhere today, and I liked it. It was also very bright, but the Parisians don’t seem to wear sunglasses, or there is some unwritten rule about the proper time to do so, either way, everybody was squinting in pain. Soon, much sooner than I expected, I was at the river. Who knew it was so close? I didn’t.

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I quickly descended onto the quays and walked along until I came to a bench. The sidewalks were very old and very cool. I wished it had been nicer in January and most of February so that I could have willed myself outdoors, but it had been way too cold. On my bench, I sat, writing in my little Moleskine journal, looking incredibly philosophical to the delight of all who passed by and watched me.

There were lots of tour boats that passed, there were a few police boats, and a few private boats. I wished that I had a boat, it looked like fun. Then there was a woman who had not made a good shoe choice and had profusely bleeding ankles. She sat next to me, I was grossed out, injury makes me queasy, so after what I felt was enough time not to look as if I were evacuating, I got up and continued my walking.

I came across a family with two adorable scruffy dogs. I love how dogs here don’t need a leash, they just follow their owners, I don’t know if normal dogs do that, but I’m always so surprised to see it here. If I let Shadow do that, I’d lose him in twelve seconds. He’s not very smart sometimes. The silly mutts would play with sticks and wrestle with each other, then gang up on other dogs and then play with them. I loved those fluffy little scoundrels.

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Soon, the quay ended and I had to ascend some stairs. I looked around, very confused, the water was split into two around me…that threw me for a loop because it could only mean one thing…I’m already on the island! My goal for the day was to walk to Notre Dame…sweet, that was fast. But where was that bloody cathedral?

I meandered along until I came across a very long line of people waiting for ice cream and sorbet. My head did some quick math: island + sorbet = Berthillion’s on Ile Saint-Louis. I was on the wrong island, but oh well, it was lovely, so I walked down to the other end. There were so many old, tiny streets, and they were all packed with people munching on ice cream or packed lunches, everybody lounging about, basking in the sunlight. The ice cream shop only accepted cash, so I couldn’t get any…I was sad, I need to go to an ATM.

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I turned around at the other end of the little island, and said, “Oh!” There was Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower. Quite a lovely place actually, no wonder it was so busy. As I walked back towards the church, I watched as a scene formed around an open window. There was a big basset-hound in a window leaning out, waving at people with his paw. It was adorable.

I really had to go to the bathroom when I got to Notre Dame, I shouldn’t have downed 2.5 liters of water before I left, but the bathrooms were closed. I had decided to walk to Pont Alexander III because it had taken me so little time to get here, but I went home to use the restroom, and settled in for the night.

My computer is so slow. I want to smash it upon the sidewalk outside of my window, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.

I studied some flashcards before getting frustrated with Le Cordon Bleu’s testing schematic. Oh well…I will need to do some memorizing tomorrow.

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