Before we headed to Notre Dame we went to see the Arc de Triumph. The carvings in the stone are fascinating! Ahmee and I were stumped as to what one particular angel was. Was it male or female? The angel had plenty of body muscle, but had a delicate face (not that that means it's a girl mind you-many French men have delicate faces). What stumped us was that the angel had boobs. We spent about 10 minutes wondering whether it was a male or female. Eventually we gave up. I think I'm going to stick with the female, and say that the angel was a different version of Jean de Arc (Joan of Arc).
Another very interesting thing about the Arc de Triumph was the eternal flame. I've already written the trials that this flame has been through, but I have not mentioned yet how small the flame is and why. The flame was about the size of my fist. For those of you who know me well you know that this is incredibly small. Why was the flame this small? There were two huge flags flying right over it. If the objectives of the forgotten dead were reborn and those who're living decided they wished to overthrow their government then they could do so easily: the flame is already underneath the flag. Right now I think is a good time to mention that the French do not like their "bling bling" president. In fact, we've been told that the French hate their president more than the Americans hate Bush. Quite something, right? The unlucky French are stuck with their president longer though. While our president's term in office is only 4 years (with the possibility of being reelected and having 8 years), their presidents have 6 years in office. They're stuck with a president for quite some time.
The Bells of Notre Dame! That song was stuck in my head as we approached Notre Dame and walked around inside. The stone carvings on the outside were what I was most interested in, and then the wonderful stained glass windows on the inside. The gargoyles were awesome! Felt sad for the ones who'd lost their bottom jaw to the rain though. These were the ones that were used as drains for the rain. They looked like they'd gotten gum cancer by chewing tobacco. 
The rose stained glass window was huge! It's a shame that it was raining when we went to see it, but even with the clouds covering the sky the stained glass was still beautiful. Those of you who are reading this are probably sick and tired of reading how such and such a place was gorgeous and such and such a place was beautiful, so I suppose I'll go into detail. The stained glass windows had super rich colors that allowed the light to shine through, adding even more colors into the cathedral. Since the cathedral had been left to decay there for a long time the original grandeur was never fully recovered. In fact Notre Dame was just about torn down until the book The Hunchback of Notre Dame saved it from demolition, simply because it got the people interested in it again and made them want to fix it up. One book can make all the difference. Tis why writers are so important. 
While we were inside the cathedral we listened to an audioguide that showed us around the cathedral. I think that the cathedral was built for Catholics because there were tons of things devoted to Mary. There were also many niches where the St.'s statues would've been standing. Catholics tend to decorate their churches more, and their love to show the people their Saints and the show the people the woman who gave birth to Jesus (Mary) is what drives them to add all kinds of extra work into the cathedral. I think that originally Notre Dame's columns were painted, and the ceilings were painted.
Something else that would've been there originally would have been the first windows. The ones up along the sides of the nave are from the 21st century and they look it. Not that they aren't pretty, but I think it's interesting that the citizens of Paris haven't objected to them. They seem to be against having modern next to the old. Why would they suddenly not mind the modern in this cathedral? Perhaps it's the fact that it's a cathedral. Perhaps it's just that it's up high and many people don't look there. I don't know.
Outside the Notre Dame there are many different stores. One I liked quite a bit was the Esmerelda Store. Whoever named that store was very clever to use the name of such an important character for the cathedral. It was in either this store or the one right next to it that I got a picture of the drunken head bridge.
We walked from Notre Dame across the Drunken Head Bridge so that we could walk down a small section of road that's right next to the Thames where many artists paint. This is also the area where much art is sold. Art in all of its forms too. There were paintings of the city of Paris, there were paintings of flowers, there were pictures of women, there were pictures of cats, and there were even little painted houses that you could buy. If a boy were to live in Paris and see all of the naked women in the photographs (the naked body of both the male and female are often the subjects of sculptures and of photography) then perhaps he'd get accustomed to seeing them and become indifferent. I think that if we walked around naked then we would eventually get quite used to seeing each other in this way. You don't see people snickering and getting excited over a naked sculpture do you? Nope. It's admired, even if the body has more curves than what our society likes.
We crossed the Seine again by way of a pedestrian bridge. This bridge had photographs lining it that showed the horrors of malaria. While I definitely liked the color of the pictures, and the depth of emotion that they portrayed in them, I definitely question the drive behind them. What can we do about malaria? 
We left the bridge and arrived in the St. Germaine shopping district where we just about got lost amongst the stores. Not that there were a ton of them, there were just a ton that we enjoyed peering into the windows of. I think that that specific section we walked into was designed for me. It had soooo many home deco stores and sooo many antique stores with lots of old furniture in them, not to mention plenty of fashion stores and jewelry stores and fabric stores. In one of them I found my own piece of artwork: a miniature flight of stairs. These weren't any ordinary flight of stairs mind you. They were a darker, well polished, wooden set. They were round, but not really. The inner railing was curved, but the outer railing was not. If you were to look at these stairs from above they would've been hexagonal in shape, maybe octagonal (now I'm sitting here moving my fingers around trying to remember if they went this way or this way-looks kinda ridiculous). After window shopping for an hour we reached the street we needed. Ahmee said we were going to eat at the most famous cafe in Paris: the Deaux Magots. Yes, in English this means The Two Magots. Gross names seem to not matter though because this particular cafe was looked like a beehive with tons of people moving around it, tons of people moving in it, and tons of people sitting in it, and around it.
We window shopped some more on this street; looking at high designer outfits doesn't really suit us though and we moved on to get something that does suit us: food. At the Deaux Magots I didn't get anything worth really commenting, I just got a baguette sandwich that had ham, cheese, and tomato on it. What was really truly delicious about the meal was the man who sat in the table next to us. We never did get his name but I shall do my best to describe him. He was an older man, his hair had gone completely white, he rather nice skin, and his eyes seemed to glow with life (or perhaps it was the 5 glasses of champagne he was drinking?). While we knew the man was old, he didn't act it. He was just like my Momma in being ever the child, even when your body tells a completely different statement. He even made a comment that started out with "When I was a kid... wait a sec, I'm a still a kid!" It reminded me thoroughly of something Momma would say. This man spoke fluent french and english. He said he was from Argentina, but that he'd been all around the world and had lived in Paris for 6 months, right then he lived in Florida with his wife and he was on his way to Holland to meet some people for business. His impersonations of the French people were positively hilarious. He said that the french people tended to purse their lips and not smile so much and whenever you walked into their restaurant it was almost like, "You want to eat here! Why?" It's true. The French don't smile quite as much as Americans do and they do seem to enjoy the pursed lips. They smile when they are caught offguard by a joke however. Something else that I really liked about this old man was that we both have a common love. We both love to get lost. He said that the most beautiful and wonderful places in the world can be found when you get lost. The magnificent times come when you aren't looking for them.
I completely agree with him. It's like shopping. When you're looking for something specific it becomes difficult, but when you're just browsing and enjoying yourself then you find many many many things you like. When you're traveling the most wonderful experiences happen when you least expect them. Example: when we were searching for the Eiffel Tower we instead found the park paradise and the immense feeling of joy that seemed to be flowing freely between the people. Another something I've found is that when you're traveling you DO find the best places when you're lost. Never expect to see those places again. Example: when in Ireland many of the country roads weren't marked, the views were amazing though. I don't think I'll ever see that stretch of road again.
Another few things that made me like this man were: he was good for my ego, and he loved Scotland the most out of all the countries he'd been to. What do I mean when I say he was good for my ego? One of the first things he said to us was, "You're daughter"(this was directed at Ahmee)"is drawing the eyes of all the Frenchmen." He was surprised when he found out I wasn't in college. He laughed when I said I didn't know what I was going to study when I got to college because there were so many things I liked, he also said, "This one is going to go all over the world. Just can't be contented with one thing can you?"
When he heard where I was from he said, "You all know you're over here just the right amount of time right? You aren't here long enough to make you all too european, but then you're gone long enough to make yourselves intriguing. What I mean is that if you were here longer then there could be a possibility of people not accepting you back home because all of a sudden you're the european freak." I laughed and told him that didn't bother me having people think I was a freak or being out of place (what I didn't mention was that I've been uprooted many times before and been "the new girl" so many times throughout my life, and been kind of an odd ball all my life). He said that that was the exact same mentality his daughter had. One of the last things he said was (while shaking his head and chuckling), "Indiana is in trouble with you!"
I wonder what he meant by that (tehe).
After having that wonderful meal we got back on the subway and headed back to the room where I hopped on the computer and started typing to everyone I could. I mentioned to everyone the white-haired Argentina man.
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