bitchy_merlin | France: Random and Entirely Inconsequential Notes On (2) (Reply)

Day 2 (Sunday, March 15^th, 2009)

The prequel to breakfast is a knock on our door as Larissa is in the middle of blowdrying her hair. We open it up to reveal Justin (I think that’s his name… I always confuse him with his best friend Jacob, even though they look nothing alike, but more on them later). Of course, we don’t know his name at this point. All we know is that some distraught grade 11 is standing outside our door looking like he might be on the verge of tears, and saying “Uh… can I use your hairdryer?”

Um… sure? “What room are you in?” Larissa asks.

“The one with the broken hairdryer.” Priceless. We wait till his footsteps retreat down the hall before laughing for a good five minutes. I was honestly unaware that 16 year old males even dried their hair. Matter of fact, I can’t even remember the last time I touched one of those things. But anecdote over, back to the main storyline.

Breakfast in the hotel consists of croissants, European cornflakes (with “soft” milk), and yogurt in cute little glass containers. I can taste the extra fatty calorie creaminess. It must be a culture thing.

Anyway, next thing we know, we’re on a bus tour of downtown Paris, with a tour guide who actually speaks French for a change. We pass through the Champs Elysées (my inner fashionista just died of glee~), although we don’t get to leave the bus, so my pics are of dubious quality. So we drive for a bit, and then it is revealed that we’re heading to VERSAILLES! Stop! Tangent time!

Now, I love Versailles. Really. I do. If one can feel such emotions for a building, I think I do. It’s hard to describe the sheer grandeur of the place, from the manicured gardens stretching as far as the eye can see, to the vividly painted ceilings, and the breathtaking rooms and --. Well, I’m just incredibly fond of the place, though I’ve only been twice, once on this trip and once in grade four, for a family vacation. My grandparents bought a video cassette when they went, and I remember sitting enthralled in the basement, just watching that thing and being absolutely fascinated. Starry eyes and flailing included.

Right, so. The tour was incredible, obviously. And it was made even more so by the fact that instead of following our prearranged tour guide, Mr. Zaph (aka the most awesome teacher ever) told us to ~~hijack~~ ~~become one with~~ join a different tour group because their tour guide was much better than ours. So we did. It was so cool! The new guide was so fascinating (and, uh, he spoke English, so I was actually able to understand him). He told us the history of the phrase “ça va?”. Due to the fact that intestinal diseases were the leading cause of death in those times, people often asked each other “comment ça va?” which was to say “how’s your digestive system working today?”. So for the rest of the trip, there was giggling and indiscreet eyebrow waggling whenever “ça va?” cropped up.

The tour guide also tells us about how ladies of the court went to the washroom during balls: because their dresses and hairdos were so elaborate (up to and including real birds singing in a hairpiece) they raised their hand and a team of servants rushed over with a chamber pot, which they slid discreetly under the woman’s upwards-of-25 lb.-dress. The woman was then able to relieve herself and continue with her evening. (Although, as the guide talked, I was slightly embarrassed to realize that I knew some of the information already, courtesy of the Royal Diaries series.) Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the whole tour; just before the guide was about to reveal the history of the middle finger to us, we were hustled out by Zaph to catch our bus.

After Versailles, we head off to the “Latin Quarter” where we get a couple of hours to shop or otherwise amuse ourselves. The streets are more like alleys: narrow and cramped, but bustling with people and colour, sights, sounds and smells (mostly of cigarette smoke, ew). After much difficulty and inner turmoil, I buy a purse (soft orange suede, with leather handles and metal clasps) that doesn’t really match with anything I own, but is big enough to fit my headphones, for which I am profoundly grateful. Much thanks goes to Nastassia, rapist-camera!Michael, et al. for yelling at me until I bought it.

After this, the tour guide attempts to hustle us all to the restaurant for dinner, but instead ends up getting lost and almost losing a few students. We are not impressed with her. Dinner, while still sub-par, is better than what they tried to serve us the first night, so we learn quickly to be grateful for small mercies.

Dinner is followed by a trip to the Eiffel Tower. It’s night, so the Tower is lit up ~~like a giant fucking penis.~~ I was so excited to go to the top, where there would no doubt be tumultuous winds and dizzying heights and all the rest, but alas, it is under construction, so we only get to go to the second floor (but we do get to take the elevator). The sign inside the elevator reads: WATCH OUT FOR PICKPOCKETS! Crammed in as we are, resembling sardines, this sign is cause for amusement. Many people trapped in the middle of the lift mumble about not getting to see out the thick glass windows on the way up, but I’m sandwiched between Michael and the window, so I don’t mind. Outside, on the second level, it’s pretty damn cold. But because it’s France, the wind isn’t strong enough to be really exciting. Anyway, we all dodder around in the cold for a bit and take pictures. I get reprimanded by Kara about “hanging over the edge like that”, but it’s all in good fun. And just when I think I’ve seen everything –

THE EIFFEL TOWER STARTS FUCKING SPARKLING.

I kid you not. First, it was just lit up in gaudy yellow lights, and then BAM! It transforms into ~~a giant sparkling penis~~ ~~the skin of a killah~~ an epileptic’s worst nightmare. So after that minor heart attack, I freeze my ass off with Mme. Richter for a few minutes, then Journey comes and he and I begin the descent. There are quite a few stairs. I don’t remember what we talked about, but now we say hi to each other when we pass in the halls.