Today began very…blah. Nothing really seemed overly inspiring and nothing stuck out to me as something that seemed interesting to do. I scrolled through my list of the places that I wanted to see in Paris and decided that we may as well head out to the antiques market, which is allegedly the largest one in the world. Sounded good to me, so I wrote down the information and we headed out.
Jessica immediately began telling me how hungry she was. When I asked her why she hadn’t ate anything in the apartment three minutes ago, she failed to give me an adequate response and seemed quite stumped by the question.
I wrote down the wrong information. Confused, we got out at a random stop and looked at the map. The antique market was nowhere to be found on it, so, I thought we might as well walk around and see a new part of Paris. This did not turn out to be fun. It wasn’t a super nice area, in fact, I’m not sure what area we were in. I was ready to beat it, (kind of hoping for a choreographed dance with a street gang à la Michael Jackson, sadly things like that don’t seem to happen in real life) but Jessica was still going on about how hungry she was–looking at every single menu along the way–so she decided to go to KFC. I know! KFC. But, on the other hand, I thought it might be an interesting anthropological outing, so in we went.
Jessica immediately and loudly asked me why there were so many black people in there. I’m colorblind when it comes to race, so I had not noticed until she pointed it out.
She had some kind of brutally slaughtered chicken and I had a bag of frites. They were icky. I was happy to leave. Back on the Métro there was some man wearing nice shoes claiming that he had no money and that he had lost his entire family because of Iraq. Beggars are actors, I think, and actors should dress the part. They shouldn’t wear shoes at all.
I was tired and exhausted of the day already, but I felt that we had to make something of it, so we went back into the Louvre, which I think of as a kind of base, and went to the Virgin Megastore. I love this store with a passion, and I was deeply devastated when the Virgin Megastore closed in Downtown Disney. That was one of my favorite parts of Disney World. I love wandering around all the books, vinyl albums, and CDs from around the world. I never buy a tremendous amount, but I take notes on what I want and then buy them for a penny (literally) on the Amazon Marketplace.
The macaron craze, as I said before, is in full force with crappy recipes filling every window. I have stopped trying them already as they are all really, really bad. I will now only eat Pierre Hermé as his are the only ones that I find comparable to my own and worth the hefty price. In the bookstore there were a handful of books on the subject and I flipped through them and will probably go back and buy a few just for inspirational ideas–not for the recipes, because surely they are of poor quality. This kit was particularly intriguing to me because of the quantity of pastry tips. I have made a lot of macarons in my life, hundreds maybe thousands, and I have used exactly two simple circle tips. I don’t know what they could possibly use the others for. The macarons on the cover don’t even look that good, it’s like they aren’t even trying.
Jess and I decided to go into the Louvre since we had our passes and we had absolutely nothing else to do, well, nothing else that we felt like doing. I felt so tired for some reason.
This man had a very itchy eye. In reality, he was a lawmaker who had created a law that said anybody who commits adultery must be made blind. His son committed adultery and he sacrificed his own eyes so that he wouldn’t be seen as a hypocrite and so that his son could go on in life with vision. A sweet story, surely, but what an odd subject for a statue.
We went into the ancient Egyptian halls because we both enjoy Egypt. We barely saw any of it as the collection is massive and extensive, but here are a few pieces that were interesting on this excursion.
Horus demands that you clap your hands. CLAP, BITCHES! Or suffer the wrath of Anubis.
I could look at hieroglyphs all day long. If I had the patience, I would almost certainly go to school to be an Egyptologist. Isn’t it amazing that these symbols actually mean things? I see an M and an R and T, STAR, and more. It is such fun.
This was supposed to be my Marilyn Monroe moment, but my shirt was not billowy enough, so I had to puff it out myself and ended up looking ridiculous.
This is the top of a pyramid. THE TOP OF A PYRAMID! I have never even thought about the little piece on top. This was easily one of the most interesting things I saw.
This cat reminded me of Uma, one of our outside kitties who died. She was so beautiful, I think her lineage has completely died out, which is deeply saddening. Her children all had stunning golden eyes.
We were both bored so we went home and took a nap. When I roused myself I searched through the cupboards and found a box of tomato soup that was left in the cupboard by a previous tenant. I thought that it would be alright so I warmed it up on the stovetop. Little did I know, it was one of the most delicious things I have ever had. Jessica made a little moan and then began saying in her signature way “SOOUUUU PPPAAAAA.” She approved and we ate the entire container. Jessica really took to tomato soup in a way I had not expected.
Tonight was Museum Night, which meant that many of the museums were open late, many until one o’clock in the morning for free. I thought it would be nice to go see the Grand Palais since I didn’t really care to pay to get into it, but unfortunately we didn’t make it to any museums because tonight was the final of Eurovision and there was no force of nature that could have separated Jessica and I from the couch and the television.
There is nothing better than Eurovision. From what I knew of it, I knew that it would be fantastically insane, but what an understatement. It is campy madness! Jedward was there singing an irreverent song about lipstick. There was a troop of gnomes from Moldova singing about how lucky they were while a fairy on a unicycle wheeled around them for no apparent reason. The Greeks wanted us to “Watch [Their] Dance” and as much as we did not want to, we had to because they was scary. We were singing along to Denmark and wanted to be popular like the kid from Sweden. It was all fantastic.
The host, Anka, was just as fun as the singing. She was in some ridiculous dress that she could not maneuver in, so she had to be carried around over people’s shoulders. She smiled lost and it was evident that she was often times deeply confused by what was happening around her. The French translators, who spoke over the entire thing kept saying how sure they were that their entry would win. Uh, please, that song sucked. The literal translation of the French entry is Corsican for “Tedious Opera.” It was the perfect definition because it was horrible. Opera is not going to win Eurovision. This guy with a crazy mane of hair and a giant nose kept going on and on and nobody but Belgium liked it.
Once the singing was over with it was time for the voting. This took forever and it was deeply stressful. Each participating country, there were forty-three, was able to give points of different values, the most being twelve. So, each country announced something like, “We give our 8 points to….Guess??? Do you know who???” (Anka did not enjoy this teasing.) “We give our points to…Azerbaijan!” Then the singers would go insane and Jessica and I would roll our eyes because their song was nowhere near as fantastic as Jedward from Ireland or Hungary or Denmark or even Moldova. It went on forever, Anka spinning around and smiling dementedly (my favorite part) and terrible jokes. The French would scream whenever they got a point (literally one point once in a while)–they actually thought they would win and many of the bookies said that France was the favorite for the win. How? France did not win!
Whenever Jedward would get a point I would clap and Jessica was watching for Moldova to win. In the end, we would have been happy if anybody but Azerbaijan won, but they did. Their song isn’t bad, it just isn’t fun like some of the others. I can’t wait for next year’s Eurovision. The upside of Azerbaijan’s win is that Eurovision will be insane. Eastern Europe is nuts. I must be there. Here are some of my favorite songs: