frespanglish?

so today was pretty amazing. I woke up magically 30 seconds before my alarm went off - talk about an incredible internal clock. I'm so switched on to Paris time already hah. So sorry for no pictures, this internet is about as useless as they come. But anyway! I woke up at like 6am this morning, got my shit totally together and I was out the door at 7am before more than 3/4 of my tour had even awoken. I made 3 maps that I didn't even use because my sense of direction here is just that fantastic (especially when everything I wanted to see was along the river Seine (; ).

I started off the day with a metro trip to Notre Dame. The tour guides were less than helpful, but that's cool - I like to do shit on my own anyway. So it was pretty majestic inside, it has a definite presence in the church area. It's hard to explain the grandeur, similar to that of the Opera, which I'll get into later. But it's definitely a pretty fucking magical place. Those large stained glass things just blew my mind. I then got in line to go see the belltower - how could I miss it?! As many of you know, I'm an avid reader of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, so I was super stoked to see if I could find the inscriotion that the entire book was based on. Unfortunately, 387 tiny steps later, I find out that that part of the church wasn't restored. Devs. But I met a pretty cool American family in line, from Masechusetts. Had an adorable, although kind of precocious, eleven year old girl called Ellie. She was bundles of fun.

The view was incredible, needless to say and I could not have asked for a more perfect day weatherwise. Not a cloud in the sky and a beautiful breeze.

After Notre Dame, (which took 3 hours longer than expected because of a slow old lady at the front of the group holding everyone up) I had to skip the Lourve. To be honest? I wasn't going to wait 3 hours to see a portrait sized photo. The Lourve never really interested me anyway. But! Now here it gets awesome. Some freaky Frenchman in a leather jacket with wild hair was making a bomb threat? So he got crash tackled by security guards like a metre in front of me before he squirmed free and ran off. They knew him as Jacques, so I'm assuming it's a regular thing for him? I thought it was pretty hilarious.

Making my way through the streets like a regular Parisian, I found my way to, by far the thing i was most excited about - Opera Garnier, Place De La Opera, Opera. It's the old opera house, essentially. The inspiration, it is believed, for hte Phantom of the Opera. Once again, tour guides were tres shit. But that, once again, worked out well because I found all these amazing little rooms. Not kidding, every time I moved my eyes I was rendered breatheless. The amount of gold, and just...magnificence of the place. It's unlike anything I have ever seen before in my life. Think, kind of like older parts of the city - but upkept and smothered in gold and marble and inscriptioons etc. I got some amaaaaazing photos. The souvenier shop was tres shit too. But that's cool, I did what I could. And my photos are souveniers enough!

Apparently I cant' spell souveniers. But I don't care (;

All right. Now for the juicy shit. After the Opera, I was paranoid I would be late for the bike tour so I grabbed a croissant on the run and made my way to the Eiffel Tower. A fucking walk, I tell you. I have massive blisters by this stage, that give me random cushioning when I walk. You know, painful cushions. I brisked through the Madeline Church and the Rue De La Concorde (kill me if that's spelt wrong) and crossed the Alexandre III's church. Fuck. So much gold. It literally puts the sun to shame - especially aruond midday when I was there. I was just about blinded.

Now, the bike tour met up at 3pm under the tower, but I got there at 2 because im just that organised. This is where things get good, I promise. So I'm sitting there, minding my own business and writing in my journal - when suddenly I hear someone speaking French a little too close for my liking. So I turn around and BAM RIFLE IN MY FACE. Yup. French Militants protecting the tower. The dick hadn't seen me, gotten too close and was talking into his radio while looking up at the tower. Thanks guys. Appreciate it.

And as soon as the militant disappears, I suddenly get bombarded with an over zealous gypsy wanting to sell me a scarf with the Eiffel Tower on it. As usual, no matter what he says, I just say non non non. He called me lady gaga, and 'hakuna matata' about 10 times and I was getting the shits. So I stamped my foot and said NON. There was two French guys sitting near me, just chilling in the sun that I didn't really pay much attention too. That is - until this fucking gypsy started trying to touch me, trying to wrap the scarf around my neck etc. This is kind of graphic, if you have a weak stomach, don't read the next sentence. In an act of strange divine intervention, I leapt to my feet and shoved him off - with an almighty popping and squelching erupting from my right heel. By now? The blisters were the size of Euros ( see what I did there? ) and that extra bit of pressure caused one of them to just like...explode. It was epic - it neded to be in slow-motion with some theme music too. But it got all over the fucker's ankle - the pop-squelch-blister had quite a range of pus. One of the boys came up and started cursing at him in French and eventually he just pissed off. The two boys? Gilam and Jonathon. Easily the coolest people I have ever met in my life. They're 19 and are moving to Moscow tomorrow for 9 months. How fucking cool is that?

I hung out with them later by the River Steine and downed some rad Tequila sunrises while waving at locals on boats and discussing coconuts in our broken frespanglish. Frespanglish because they come from down south, near Spain - and my French is just insulting. Apparently shaking hands is a laughable greeting in Paris. A kiss on each cheek with lips nearly touching seems to be the way to go. Gotta say I was a tiny bit weirded out. But anyway, we had a wicked time before departing - but Jonathon and I are still talking. He's hilarious.

I got back to my hotel room tonight feeling a little sick. I had a good breakfast, and a croissant for lunch but haven't had time for dinner and I have a bit of sunstroke I think. Which is all good because my tan is looking fresh. But I'm starving and it's late. So I think I'll sleep this hunger off and deal with it efficiently in the morning. Those blisters? Pretty fucking rank right now. They're huuuuge.

Gargantuan even.

To be honest? Kind of devastated I'll probably never seen Jon again. Easily one of the most awesome guys I've ever met, and he's abandoning Paris for some freezing vodka-drenched wasteland. Silly,silly boy.

No clue what's on tomorrow, and way too comfortable right now to get out of bed and go check. I'll just make sure to be up early.

Also. What the fuck. My frespanglish is making my english worse, I swear. I'm trying to talk to Gilam and Jon in simplified English, and now, after spending most of the night with them, I can't seem to form proper sentences. WIN.

Fuck, before I forget - parlez vous francais is the best song ever. And I must share the coconut story with you. I promise it is awesome. Jon was explaining to me how him and Gilam had been spending the day. From what I could understand of our frespanglish, they went into a fruit shop, saw a coconut and bought it. They then preceeded, shirtless, down to the Seine to enjoy the juice inside. But - a dilemma! They couldn't open the fucking thing. So they asked aruond, and managed to find a swiss army knife and they went to drink - only to find there was no juice inside. So they then cut the cocnut into pieces and threw it at people instead. I dont know why? But I nearly died laughing at it and the rest of the night was spent joking about coconuts.

I think I'm rambling now - so I'll stop and head off to bed. Night!