Far, far, too early in the morning I had to rouse myself from my slumber because we were going out to Disneyland today. I was really looking forward to this jaunt as I enjoy buying the exclusive chinaware that is available only in the park. And, I like going to anything Disney.
When I was up and moving, I discovered that I had a sore throat. I don’t whine or complain too much when I’m ill, but there is absolutely nothing worse than what feels like knives in your throat. I don’t think I was too unpleasant though, grimacing as I swallowed my frittata, but not making a sound.
We took ourselves down to the Metro, and went up a ways and then took the RER to Marne-la-Valée–the Orlando or Anaheim of France. It costs about seven euros each way which was pretty steep. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I’m trying to be a bit more frugal and this seemed an exorbitant fee. I had best be amused today!
As much as I’d like to be a morning person, like Martha, I know that I never will be. I love the nighttime and the afternoons. I just can’t get moving in the morning, so I was not too amused to be on the train so early. I kept myself amused during the trip with a book I started reading called The Antediluvian World which is all about the possibility that Atlantis was a real place. From previous research I have done in this area, I am quite convinced that this island once existed and I’m always excited when there are new discoveries that could be about that lost world. When I wasn’t reading, I was listening to Bjork. I do love her and all her crazy. This one is my favorite. I also enjoyed watching the suburbs go by and I realized that when you leave Paris, you leave Paris. The French are not Parisians, I hadn’t ever really considered that. The whole country isn’t filled with effortlessly chic waifs and artisan bread. It’s actually quite refreshing to get out of the city and see real people and children jumping on trampolines. I love Paris and think there is no greater city in the world, but I understand why the locals evacuate in the summer. It’s tiring to be Parisian.
After what seemed like a very short trip, we arrived in Marne-la-Valée and gurl, was it hot. Far hotter than it had been in Paris. I needed a tank top and man capris matched with flip-flops, a tiny hat, and Aviators. Unfortunately, I don’t have any of those things along with me, so I had to make do.
There were a lot of people all over, so we logically assumed that it would be a miserable day, but it all turned out to be okay. We bought our tickets–villainous prices (I’ve heard of black market babies going for less)–and headed over to Disney Studios, as it is still quite small without a tremendous variety. As we walked over I saw this:
The palm trees are taunting me in France, too. In France! I don’t understand how they can live. I’ve been through a winter in France–it isn’t nice. I think Disney has a fair amount of magic, but this botanical miracle seems advanced even for them.
We went on the Tower of Terror first because it is the best ride. I could do that all day–I love it. I would live in there if I could, I love the art deco design and the creepy atmosphere. I cannot imagine why Disney has not built a guest hotel yet inspired by the Tower of Terror. I would book a room for weeks. Jessica was terrified. She has been on it innumerable times, but every time she is filled with the same terror. I don’t get that. Anyway, I need to check if the movie is on Youtube…it is!!! I know what I’ll be watching one of these nights when insomnia strikes.
After Jessica wobbled in fright out of the Tower, we headed to Rock n’ Roller Coaster. She was scared of this one as well, sure that she would suffer some kind of tragedy involving either whiplash or a broken neck. Neither happened, but she didn’t open her eyes for the ride. I think I may need to install one of these in my home because my hair looked great after zooming along.
We waited in line for Crush’s Coaster next. It is based on Finding Nemo and is a really fun ride–much better than that crappy thing they have at Disney World. That is not fun. Here, you spin and spin and spin!
And with that, we had done basically everything you could do. There is a weird Armageddon ride that I don’t care for and a Backlot Tour, but when you have done that once, you have done it a thousand times–and this was my fifth visit, so you can imagine. I did want to go see CinéMagique, a film about classic movies, but I could tell Jessica was not into that, so we headed out. But, then Walt pointed at me, so I just had to point back:
The Disneyland Park is where all the fun is here. It has all the rides like the other Magic Kingdoms around the world…except they’re better. The Haunted Mansion is called the Phantom Manor here and is infinitely more interesting with a well-developed plot revolving around doomed lovers in the Old West. Pirates of the Caribbean seems more extensive and It’s a Small World is actually not that annoying. You probably won’t believe this, but it’s true!
My throat was killing me something fierce, so we headed over to an ice cream shop so that I could get a little something for my voice. [Holla at the French & Saunders reference!] I had chocolate brownie something and it was really rather tasty. I may have to get myself a pint, or whatever size ice cream is sold in, when I get back home.
With my voice restored to a fraction of its former glory, we trotted off for the Phantom Manor, but not before the obligatory photoshoot in front of the castle.
With that over, we could carry on.
We headed over to the Phantom Manor and I saw a guy wearing a red and white tank top. At first, I scoffed at this, and I believe I muttered, “Peasant,” as we walked by, but upon closer inspection, this tank top was fantastic. I want to own one. I’m now on the hunt for it. I am loving the nautical chic trend that is sweeping the fashion world right now.
There was little to no wait and soon we were on our Doom Buggy and going through the Manor and cemetery. It’s always such fun. You simply must go!
Serving fierce undead realness:
As we were walking along the water towards Pirates of the Caribbean, we came across a troupe of exceptionally friendly ducks. They would run right up to, they expected we’d give them nibbles, but we had nothing for them. I’m pretty sure they were disappointed. We stayed there a while, and then a while longer, and then longer–I couldn’t get Jessica away from the ducks. She is having animal withdrawals, which I understand, but we had places to be, and places to be seen.
By now we were both hungry and somehow ended up in the exact same fast food place we always do, Colonel Hathi’s. It isn’t a bad place, but we always go there, so it gets repetitive. It was packed when we got inside and the line was not moving. It was deeply irritating, because the man behind me was pushing into me, trying to get ahead of me. I wanted to backhand him and shout, “Bitch, please!” I guess he thought I was just hanging out there, because it was a fun thing to do. Ass. Finally, we got to place our order and I had penne pasta with some kind of tomato sauce and garlic bread. I was amazed at the women who took the orders, she spoke French, English, Italian, and Spanish in the time that I was waiting. It was fascinating to hear her transition from language to language.
With our receipt we were entitled to a free drink later on in the day, so Jessica and I were deeply excited for that. For the prices they charge we deserved free beverages.
After finishing up our meal–Jessica’s made her feel ill, this always happen–(I must have a stomach made of cast iron, I’m rarely bothered by what I eat. I did eat twenty-one lemon madeleines in one sitting one time–felt pretty sick after that. Did I learn a lesson? No. I have also devoured a dozen macarons in minutes. Did I feel any shame? No.) we made our way to Pirates of the Caribbean.
We got lost in this cave thing for a spell, which was annoying, and then were finally weaving through the lines to the boats. The whole place smelled of chlorine, and Jessica and I were both taking deep whiffs. WE LOVE THAT SMELL! I would pipe it into my home if I could. It makes me think of vacations and travel and pools and happiness. We probably looked odd as we took loud nosefulls (I’m making that a word now, by the way) of it, but I don’t care too much.
As we waited in the rapidly moving line, we realized that the new Pirates movie had just come out. We wanted to go see it and see if it was any better than the crap Disney served us the last two times. We decided to go and see it tomorrow on the Champs-Elysées. I’ve never been to a movie in France, so that should be interesting.
All along the ride, I got my pirate on. It took me a long time to find my voice, at first I just sounded German, but finally I worked out the proper tone. I’ve written it out for you: Arrr, avast, thar be p(iiiieee)rates in des hear w(hhhhaa)durs. So, I was a pirate for the ride, hooking the air with my fingers and declaring everything to be a landlubber. Arrrr gurl, arrrr! I enjoyed being a pirate.
We got our free drinks next–I had a free espresso, because I could. Was it good? No. Did I care? Uh no, it was free.
We went through the castle and watched the glass blowers for awhile before looking for the steps down into the grotto to see the dragon. It was closed! BITCHES! We love that creepy dragon. It’s one of the best parts of Disneyland. Jessica was seething.
As we walked through a tiny Arabian world, I stopped in a shop where I found the perfect souvenir–an espresso set with Mickey! (Please excuse my chest nudity. I just noticed that was there.)
I love these! They are such fun, in fact, as I write, I’m drinking an espresso out of one right now! Not the best espresso, mind you, since Monoprix was sold out of Forza, but good enough. The man behind the counter had the strangest accent I have ever heard. He talked and talked and talked and I understood nothing. None of the words made sense. I affected an Irish accent so that I wouldn’t embarrass myself too much and left.
Jessica wanted to ride the classic Fantasyland rides–something I like to avoid like the plague, but we had to compromise and we went on Pinocchio and Peter Pan.
What the Hell is Pinocchio about? There were children being kidnapped and turned into donkeys and sent to salt mines. If for some reason I ever had a child, I’m not going to tell it that it will be turned into a donkey if it lies. I’ll tell it I won’t give it any macarons or Armani shoes. Salt mines, really. Child abuse is what I call it. Psychological abuse. Peter Pan was no different. Why were those children so willing to fly off into the night with an androgynous something that had an issue with growing up? I would say, were Peter to fly in my window, “RAPE!!!”
Thankfully, we soon left Fantasyland, but not before Jessica got her cotton candy (called Father’s Beard in France. Gross. I know.) She loves her some cotton candy.
We went onto Star Tours next. I read that the rides in Disneyland California and in Disney World have been changed to a new version, so that was the last time we will ever see the classic one–until the revival in about ten years. It always happens. That is such a fun ride–it seemed much more exciting here than back home. I wonder why? There was a group of mentally disabled people with us, and I don’t think it was proper to take them on a ride such as this. They were terrified. I felt bad for them as I watched their eyes grow wide in horror and vomit all over the place. I felt bad for me too. Vomit smells like vomit.
Lastly was Captain EO. I impressed all my fellow revelers with my mastery of the songs and Michael Jackson squeaks. Was I embarrassed? Hell no. Did I spin in the streets? Yes. Was everybody jealous? Mmmmhmmmm. I love that show–it makes no sense. They never explain why the Queen went from beauty to evil then so happily back to beauty. Nor did they explain what Michael and his crew of goons were doing. I don’t really care, though, it’s a good time. It’s too bad that his death was the reason that the attraction opened back up. I would have loved to have seen it years ago. I have never not been a fan.
We were done now. There was a parade coming. We hate parades, we hate them. The only parade I would go to is in Carnival or Mardi Gras, other than that, they are wastes of time and there are too many people. I don’t see the appeal. We dashed in front and hurried towards the gates and in a few moments had exited the park.
We weren’t done, yet. Oh no. We still had the Village to investigate. This is the French version of Downtown Disney in Orlando, and let me tell you, it has nothing on it. You could spend a few days in Downtown Disney. You could spend an hour in the Village. It’s growing, and quickly, but it still doesn’t have a rich variety of shopping experiences. Mainly Disney stores. Every store selling the exact same thing. Shop after shop of Vinylmation dolls. What are those? I see them everywhere and do not understand.
We walked down to the lake and I gazed across the water at the different resorts. I would like to stay in one when I come the next time, probably the New York hotel. It is modeled after hotels of the 30s and you know there is nothing better for me. I would have looked in, but Jessica was ready to go, so we went.
Back in Paris, there was a man selling pirated DVDs. I was delighted. I love these criminals even if I don’t support them. He already had the new Pirates movie, and if I had had cash with me I would have bought it. I admire their daring and their speed. They can run.
Quite tired, I was somehow unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. Then I did.