Easy Victories...

You know that saying, "The toughest battles are the ones worth fighting?" (I really hope that's actually a saying. I don't think I could make one up that sounds so legitmate.) Well, here is what I'm saying to that saying. FALSE - *When it comes to cooking. Perhaps that saying does hold true in the realms of relationships or disciplining your children or standing up for your beliefs, but when it comes to the kitchen, I tend to surrender before the first shot is even fired. I despise cooking. Genuinely get zero enjoyment out of tracking down a recipe that sounds good, then trying to hunt for all of the ingredients in our cupboards, then struggling to get the timing right for all the different pieces to be ready to go on the table at the same moment. (Trust me, this is even harder when you have one pan, one decent sized pot, and only one knife that actually performs its primary function of cutting.) And, as fate would have it, I am married to a man who seriously relishes his right to eat. He is always hungry. ALWAYS. But I guess, what man doesn't and isn't? Thankfully, he helps me out enormously in the culinary department. He can just throw a bunch of stuff in the crock pot or fill up our lonely skillet and tah dah! Edible excellence. Let's be honest, I usually let him do the cooking and then do my part by washing the dishes.

All this being said, there are still some times when I want to attempt to be the domestic queen that I certainly should have time to be. And one of those random times was yesterday. We restocked our cabinets and mini-fridge in the afternoon with a delivery from Tesco, so I suppose I was feeling obliged to utilize our most recent acquisitions. What to make, what to make? We had pork chops, diced beef, minced beef, or chicken. Since we have had chicken for the previous kagillion meals, and I was not feeling beef as "what's for dinner" (despite the catchy slogan), pork chops won. Next question, what to do with the chops? The much loved, but perhaps overly used, apple and brown sugar concoction? No. I consulted allrecipes.com. No luck. What's a girl to do? Well, when all else fails, I say you should just aim to make something as pretty and as colorful as possible. Result: Pork chops with Hawaiian seasoning (courtesy of a Christmas gift from my family), fruit juice with pineapple in it (to keep with the Hawaiian theme,) yellow bell pepper, red bell pepper, onion, and garlic. With mashed potatoes on the side. The hardest step was getting enough of the rub to stick on the semi-frozen chops, but after that, it was so simple! Easy victory #1!

Hubby was pretty proud of my wifely creativity. I was proud that I didn't have to spend hours researching and acquiring a proper recipe. For once, I threw something together at the last minute, and it turned out tasty. Whoop, whoop! However, one Modern Family episode later, we were both pondering our dessert prospects. Since we had already blazed our way through our Christmas candy, our options were pretty limited. Bananas or clementines (but who really wants something healthy for dessert?) A handful of assorted chocolates were not really tripping the trigger either. So, my only logical option was........PINTEREST! Five minutes later, problem solved. Nutella cookies could be whipped up in no time with minimal fuss.

Nutella Cookies Recipe:
1 cup of flour
1 cup of Nutella
1 egg
1/2 cup of sugar
2 tiny drops of vanilla extract (I added that of my own accord, but it's probably not necessary.)
Mix it all together (with your hands, unless you have a spatula, which I don't)
Bake at 350F (or 175C) for 8 minutes

Presto! Delicious, gooey Nutella in cookie form. Easy victory #2! If I can do it, anybody can. So, back to my original point... yesterday I learned that I don't have to ferociously fight the kitchen in order to come out on top. It just so happens that I put forth minimal effort and got maximum results. My new motto is, "When it comes to the kitchen, the tough battles aren't worth fighting; so fly by the seat of your pants, use groups of prepackaged seasonings, include Nutella whenever possible, and you won't starve afterall." Catchy, huh? Maybe not the best or most inspiring adage to live by, but it worked this one time, and I'm sticking to it.

PS - It's snowing in Cambridge!!! Woo hoo! It's not accumulating, and it seems to be a precipitation combination of snow flurries and light rain, but I'm calling it SNOW! And it's magical. Now for some mid-morning tea and this week's Beth Moore audio session. "Oh what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day! I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way." If we weren't running short on our internet allowance for the month, I would totally find a way to watch the musical "Oklahoma" right about now. Ya'll come back now, ya hear?

Grand Finale...

Because we had accomplished so much during our first 48 hours in Paris, we took our last day at a more relaxed pace. We went out of our way to stroll through some parks and gardens while walking to and fro the churches and museums that were still on our list. The sky was gray, but we were looking at vibrant stained glass, masterpiece impressionist paintings, and world famous landscaping, so it didn't feel a bit drab. We started the morning off at Sant Chapelle. Honestly, I don't remember much about the historic significance of the church. I think at one point in time they claimed to possess the crown of thorns that Jesus had worn when he was crucified. They supposedly acquired it from Alexandria? Sorry, maybe Google would do a better job of providing the background information. Anyway, I hadn't visited there with my parents because we just ran out of time. And judging from the outside of the building, I didn't think that I had missed much, so I wasn't too disappointed.

See? It's pretty, but it doesn't appear to be anything extraordinary.

But this time around we stopped in. Rick had listed it as a 3-star attraction, meaning it was a must see, so we took his word for it. There are two levels. The entrance guides you into the lower chapel, which is unique, but not overly awe-inspiring.

In one corner you find the oldest wall painting in France. Or was it in all of Europe? Sorry again. Wasn't devoting a lot of effort to memorizing the facts at this point.

Most of the walls and pillars were covered in what made me think of medieval wrapping paper. Couldn't you just see this castle print on a gift intended for a little boy who is having a 'knights of the round table' birthday bash?

We looked around for a few minutes, and then, feeling like we had seen what we needed to see, we ventured up a tiny spiral staircase toward the upper chapel. I'm beginning to expect that at the top of every narrow spiral staircase there is something breath-taking. I've been trained, like Pavlov's dogs, minus the slobbering. And when I walked into the upper chapel (sneezing very loudly and breaking the silence) my expectations were smashed to smithereens.

Wowzers. That's a hefty amount of colored glass. So many tiny panes!

The rose window at the rear of the chapel depicted judgment day. Jesus, armed with a sword in His mouth, was at the very center.

There's a closeup.

My neck was killing me from looking upwards at all the colors.

The detail was incredible. Each window told a different story from the Bible, starting with creation in Genesis and ending with Jesus' second coming in Revelation. It's one of the only places that the windows are meant to be read from bottom to top. This one was in the Esther section, one of my favorite Biblical accounts. I'm not sure who these guys are supposed to be, but the ones on the right look like they are chewing out the group on the left.

Moral of the Sant Chapelle story: You can't judge the beauty within by the plainness without. There is treasure to be discovered if you are willing to dig beneath the surface. (How's that for a fortune cookie saying?)

After exiting Sant Chapelle, we were practically around the corner from Notre Dame. We decided we needed to see it in the daylight.

Some crazy Scottish girl took our picture in exchange for a recording of us saying happy birthday to her friend Trevor. She couldn't figure out how to get all three of us and the whole church in the background, but we were just glad she didn't take off with the DSLR. She was really tall, and those long legs probably could have outrun us.

Once we got our fill of Our Lady's exterior, we detoured through Luxemborg Gardens and then met up with Maggie again, this time for lunch at a place called Merci. Thank goodness for her French language skills. I couldn't count how many times we asked her, "What does that mean?" about the items on the menu.

We loved hearing her stories about taking care of three precious kiddos. And did I mention before, she lives in the Real World Paris house? What a job.

The blonde side of the table. Lovely. We also learned from Maggie that in France, they will never rush you out of your table, even if there is a mile long line of people waiting to be seated. You still have to ask for your check whenever you are ready to be done. And restaurants are required by law to supply you with tap water if want it. Sorry mom and dad, I didn't know that rule. Probably could have saved some coin at mealtime.

Next stop, Musée D'Orsay, home to an extensive collection of Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Degas, and Renoir paintings and sculptures. We got off at the Tuileries metro stop so we could mosey through the grounds before crossing the river to the museum.

I really liked the red boxy trees.

But I liked these three doggies more. A Schnauzer, a German Shorthaired Pointer, and a Saluki. The Pointer was chasing his toy like a madman, and the Saluki flat out rejected me when I reached out to pet him. He was too busy keeping an eye on his two pals.

Ok, the Orsay. It used to be a train station, so it had a unique floor plan for an art gallery. I would show you the interior, but photos were expressly forbidden. Rule follower.

The signage gives you an idea of the art we went there to see. The elephant not so much, but he is cool. You can't see it, but there is a gorilla biting the elephant's ankle. Gotta watch out for those aggressive monkeys.

Sneaky sneaky Jen Jen couldn't resist taking a picture of her favorite room. And just so you know, the naked man statue was not the reason why it was her favorite. She liked the water lily series that was behind the nude dude. 

Nearing the end of our energy and getting hungry for some crepes, we took a breather at this clock window. We could see Montmartre in the distance. Nice place to rest. We unashamedly sat on the floor. All the school kids were occupying the chairs. Oh well.

After seeing a Van Gogh self-portrait, we high-tailed it out of there to track down a crepe stand. Found one right outside the museum, and it was hands down the best one I had eaten on the entire trip. It contained only butter and sugar, but what else could you need? Then, it was off to Sephora on the Champs Elysees. I wanted to stock up on some makeup, and there are no Sephora stores in the UK. Don't know why. (But it kinda felt good to pay in euros instead of pounds. I can only imagine how ecstatic I will be to see dollar signs again.) With that accomplished, we were tuckered out. Found a cafe for dinner, winded down with some dessert, and said bonsoir to Paris.

Our international dessert consisted of an Irish coffee, Italian tiramisu, and hot chocolate that probably didn't come from France. Delish.

The next morning, it was au revoir and back to England. Pulled into St. Pancras right on time. We enjoyed some food from Marks & Spencer, coffee from Costa, and hopped on our last train to Cambridge.

The Olympic rings hanging in St. Pancras make me excited for the Games, but also make me so glad I will be back in the States while they are happening. Too. Many. People.

Arriving back at the Grant flat was such a welcome relief. I could unpack my bags and not have to repack them again for two months. My wonderful husband had done all the dishes, made our bed, gone grocery shopping, and did an overall superb job of making sure everything was ready for us to get there. He even had garlic chicken marinating for dinner. So although he did not do any guest writing for the blog while I was away, he certainly was not idle around the house. One more thing and I'll stop bragging about him, but he had gone to Fitzbillie's and gotten some surprise goodies to celebrate Jenna's birthday. So, not only did she get to spend the first day of her 23rd year in Paris, London, and Cambridge, she got to blow out a candle and munch on a fondant frog.

Ribbit.

The last full day that Jenna and Allison spent in Europe was packed with college visits, tea, Indian food and Modern Family. Their farewell dinner was held at The Anchor pub, and we were joined by Asha and her friend Matt. It was tough to say goodbye, but also comforting to know that I would have those two sweet girls to look forward to during our trip to the States in March. I cannot express how grateful I was that they spent their hard-earned money and took vacation time to travel so far and come keep me company. It was so uplifting, and I know we will cherish that week for the rest of our lives. I'm looking forward to more vacations together in the future, when I'm sure that even when there are kids and husbands joining us, we will feel like we have picked up right where we left off. BFforL. (Best Friends for Life. I totally just did that. Bam.) Love you, girls!

14 Hours...

From the time we left our hotel to go to the Louvre to the time we made it back to our hotel that night, 14 hours of non-stop exploring had lapsed. To say we were looking a little rough at that point would have been an understatement. Our strategy of seeing as much as possible in one day worked, but sadly, it was not sustainable. Hence the reason we got a much-needed later start the next morning. But anyway, back to the longest day ever recorded.

We left the Louvre, wandered in the wrong direction, and thirty minutes later finally found the train that we needed to catch to take us to Versailles. It was the one time we took a wrong turn. But, it was not a fatal error, and we got to see the love locks on the bridge near Pont Neuf.

Like I mentioned before, Allison has got the depth of field thing down to an art.

I'm not proud to admit it, but I bought a bag of rather expensive sour gummy worms from a vending machine and chowed down on the way to Versailles. They did the trick and tided me over until we could find a creperie. And (gasp) I managed to find room in my tummy for an orange marmalade, midday snack.

Although it appears that I am double-fisting the folded(?) crepes, one was Allison's. Little did we know that this would be number one out of three crepes that Jenna would eat for her meals on this day. Please note that I am not judging her for it. Just stating facts. I had two, so I wasn't that far behind.

Refueled, we approached Versailles. We were racing the impending clouds of rainy doom, but they held off just long enough for us to make it through the palace and gardens. Only got sprinkled on while we were walking back to the train. And we were in possession of an additional umbrella thanks to our café waiter. He just gave it to us after he mocked our "impeccable" French language skills. Lucky duckies once again.

There she blows! Shiver me timbers. (I don't know why King Louis' residence suddenly took on a pirate theme. Apologies.)

Once again, there were far fewer people converging on this tourist hotspot than there were at Christmas. The result: better pictures of more tiny details that I probably was rushed past on my first visit. The next few photos are some of my favorites, and they kind of look like computer desktop wallpapers, but I think that's why I love them.

Fairly confident I could design an entire bedroom around this color scheme and shabby chic feeling. Oh wait, I think I already did. Sadly, that room is located in Tulsa. Those of you who have been in our bedroom before know what I'm talking about. Ok, that sounded weird. Not that we commonly invite our friends to hang out in our bedroom. Nevertheless, several of you know what it looks like. Moving on.

Be still, my heart.

More antique fixtures?! Ecstasy.

Continuing with the formerly mentioned chandelier motif. I love the ironwork flowers in this particularly unique and not so blingy piece, but why couldn't they just straighten the candles? You know someone has to clean them constantly to keep the cobwebs at bay. Obviously the person in charge of dusting does not have OCD.

Now for the most iconic scene of the palace. We would have been remiss to skip the classic Hall of Mirrors shot.

17 windows echoing the 17 mirrors and thousands upon thousands of crystals. Opulent.

Making our way outside to the gardens. You have to get geared up for the hike. This is entirely candid. Jenna seems to be giving Allison the evil eye; meanwhile, I'm looking at Jenna with a nervous forced smile, afraid she is going to send her death glare in my direction. But really, I don't know why we look so angry.

That's better. Well, Jenna looks happier, but I was concentrating on the hilarious birds that looked like they were walking on water.

The ponds had begun to freeze, but these guys didn't seem to mind. It got more entertaining when one bird would see his buddies chilling, decide that he needed to come in for a landing near them, and then bust through the thin layer of ice with his tiny stick legs. Their reflections made the group appear larger than it really was.

Further out there were more fountains and trees with less flying feathered friends.

After a late lunch at the same café in 'Little Venice' that I had eaten at with my parents, it was time to get back to Paris proper. We wanted to see the inside of Notre Dame and attempt to summit the Eiffel Tower.

Crepe #2 for Jenna. This one was a meaty one. Nutella crepes are better. Duh, anything Nutella is better, no matter what you are comparing it to.

An hour later (and a bit colder/wetter/dirtier,) we arrived at the cathedral. We made a regrettable stop at the archeological crypt (still not sure what all the rocks were about) and then continued on inside where the evening mass was getting underway.

Shocker. More chandeliers. Notre Dame, being as Gothic as Gothic can be, is depressingly dark. And remember how I said that the organ was the noisiest, most out of tune instrument I had ever heard? It wasn't just my ears. According to a sign, they are revamping the organ and the bells next year for the 850th anniversary of the church because they are in such disrepair that their sounds are grossly distorted.

The Pieta sculpture near the altar is iconic. It was depicted by David in that massive portrait of the crowning of Napoleon that we saw at the Louvre. No offense, but the overwhelming incense, gloomy organ, sorrowful statue, and sad singing sounds did not inspire a worshipful attitude in me. Where's the joy that should be felt knowing that Jesus rose again? All I got from this atmosphere was a somber feeling of death. And a near asthma attack from the incense.

Time for some fresh air. How about we head to the top of the Tower? Air gets fresher the higher up you go, right?

We were in luck - it was open again. However, due to the inclement weather, only one lift was in operation. The line was fairly long, and in it, we saw a guy with an OU hat on. I almost yelled, "Boomer!" just to evoke the "Sooner" response, but I couldn't bring myself to betray my beloved alma mater for a cheap thrill.

It sparkled again! And this time we were close enough to see all of the individual lights spaced throughout the beams.

So all the anticipation culminated in a climactic moment of panic. This was the top. And yes, we were in the open air. And no, we could not see a dang thing because it was so foggy. I take that back, if we leaned toward the fencing (like those girls behind us) we could look down and see the fog and rain blowing under our platform. Then the flooring would shift a little bit. That was disconcerting. All in all, it was an eerie feeling. There were only a handful of people there at the top with us. We couldn't even go on one side because the wind was so forceful. Unsettling, but simultaneously unforgettable.

We look so at ease, but that's an illusion. We were genuinely frightened. Fortunately we had taken a bathroom break on the first level on our way up. There was a shady woman standing at the entrance with an apron on collecting money from the toilet users. We weren't entirely sure whether she was in fact an attendant or just someone who had a smart money-making strategy. Either way, she got my two euros. Best part was when I thought my stall door was locked but an old lady flung it open while I was mid-business. Fond memories. Now that you have learned way more than you wanted to... Back down closer to sea level, below the billowing haze.

It was still captivating. Even in low visibility.

We took one final excursion before going back to our hotel. We met up with our friend Maggie, who is currently living in Paris, taking French classes, and working as an au pair. I was so excited to catch up with her (we hadn't seen each other since graduating from OSU)! We stumbled upon the perfect café to sit and chat and eat crepes. Unfortunately, we only remembered to take a group picture once we were in the metro... but that's ok. At least we remembered!

Considering how long we had been awake and walking around that day, we don't look half bad. No bloodshot eyes. Still smiling. Never thought that I'd have a fellow Okie/sorority sister to visit in Paris. What are the odds?

Welp, my fingers have worn themselves out for today. We only have one day of Paris left to recount and then a brief stint in Cambridge to recollect. I'll try to accomplish that this weekend sometime. Matt's coursework has really stepped it up a notch, and he has a lot of projects to work on over the coming days. He has already scheduled a mandatory break for brunch on Sunday afternoon at Pembroke College. I guess the brunch there is infamous, and we are obliged to go so my man can gobble up some bacon and pancakes. Afterwards, we will probably attend the evening service at Holy Trinity. Oh, and sometime soon I should be going to see "The Artist" movie with Asha. It has gotten great reviews and won numerous awards, so I'm excited to see it. Plus, it's in black and white and involves dancing and a cute dog. What more could I ask for in a film? Have a great weekend!

Haggis, Neeps, and Tatties...

Quick timeout from Paris. I wanted to share about the formal hall that Matthew and I attended last night. Although our pictures didn't turn out particularly well, they tell the story better than if I tried to explain it.

Girton's dining hall (pic from the college website.) It is one of the largest halls of Cambridge's 31 colleges. It was especially atmospheric last night - dimly lit, everyone in fancy dress, fellows at the high table. And to top it off, there were candles; but unlike at Hogwarts, they were not floating in the ceiling.

So what do you wear for formal? Smart attire with a gown on top. Shout out to Matt's classmate for letting me borrow hers. I felt like such an imposter. Apparently the type of gown I was wearing meant one of two things: either I was over 24 years old (false), or I have a previous degree from Cambridge (even more false.) Oh well, I blended in with all the other attendees, and that was my goal. (PS - My dress was only £10 at H&M, and is probably my new favorite dress. Love me some bargain shopping.)

Oh yeah, I went there. Matt refused to go with me, but I took it straight to Harry Potter. My wand shoots fire. Hot dang!

We spent the evening with these lovely ladies, Asha and Luma. They both had the most beautiful, bright, berry-colored lipstick. Next time I'll know to go bold. I had such an amazing time chatting with these incredibly intelligent and hilarious women. Asha was rocking some fantastic Indian earrings in honor of India's Republic Day, which was yesterday. And I was fascinated to learn more about Palestine from Luma. I hope to see them both again soon. (Hint, hint. Asha, I know you are reading this!)

Before and after the dinner, the graduates hang out in a special room with the fellows, sipping on tea, coffee, wine, etc. There is a piano in the corner of the room, and Asha informed us that it was the go-to place for formal portraits. I turned this one black and white because the lighting/coloring was a little off, but I think it makes us look classy too. (My shoulders must be permanently stuck in the slumped position. Gosh. You can feel free to call me "Kelsey the Slouch." Maybe then I would remember to stand up straight. On the other hand, my hubs looks like a GQ model. It's tough being married to someone so stylish.)

So anyway, for the main course we dined on traditional Scottish fare - Haggis, neeps, and tatties. Translation: Minced lamb with a side mixture of turnips and potatoes. It was a little on the salty side, but still tasty. The appetizer was lentil soup, and dessert was a raspberry and whipped cream mixture with oats. Matthew sat on my left, Luma on my right, and across from us were Shane (an Irishman earning a PhD in Electrical Engineering) and Peter (a Taiwanese master's student in Real Estate Finance.) Per my request, Asha had chosen our seats to be at the second highest table and not at the more serious high table, which is where the headmistress sits. I was too nervous that I would unknowingly break some formal hall rule in front of important college members and embarrass myself as the newbie imposter girl. It was far more fun to sit in the stress-free zone near interesting peers. The best line of conversation from the whole night was when Peter just kept staring at me, so I looked back and smiled, and he said, "I really want to say this, but I don't know how." So I warmly replied, "Ok, well you can try." To which he responded, "You look like Britney Spears. Well, you are a more beautiful version, so maybe she looks like you. But you look like a young Britney Spears. Do people tell you that a lot?" All I could do was laugh and answer, "No. No they don't! But at least you think I look like the young Britney, not the one that shaves her head and goes crazy." I was relaying the story to Asha and Luma after dinner, and Luma said, "Oh yes, you really do look like her!" Really, people??? I am not seeing it.

Needless to say, formal hall was a fun and novel experience. The only way I could really describe it would be that it was a combination of Harry Potter and my sorority's Monday night formal dinners. I know that both of those comparisons are probably highly offensive to the time-honored traditions of Cambridge, but they are my closest frame of reference. After dinner, most students go down to the college bar. (I can't remember if I have mentioned it before, but each college has its own dining hall, its own chapel, and its own bar. Naturally.) So Asha wanted to show me where the bar was, and when we entered, I immediately felt like I was doing something wrong. The drinking age here is 18, so all of the bar was flooded with undergraduate students, most of whom were younger than my little sister. I felt like it was a prohibition club for teens, but then I realized that it was entirely legal, so I just felt like an elderly person. We didn't stay long. Us old fogey married folk had to get in bed at a decent time, and we were soon in a taxi being driven home by one of the worst drivers I have ever trusted my life to. Despite feeling a little motion sick, we made it. Hopefully, it won't be my last formal hall dining extravaganza, but all in all, it was a great first attempt.

More pictures of Paris will be posted later this afternoon. I actually have to run some errands, and it's a sunny morning, so I want to take advantage of the good biking climate. Cheers.

Laissez-moi tranquille...

Ah, France. I cannot emphasize enough how much more enjoyable I found this country to be in January as opposed to Christmas time. Gazillion less people = bazillion times more delightful. Our time in Paris was what I had pictured it would be - delectable crepes, breezy boulevards, breathtaking views, etc. We hit the ground running, and I can't believe how many museums and gardens and monuments we saw in three short days.

Allison, Jenna, and I stayed in the same neighborhood/red light district that my family stayed in at Christmas. It is amazing how much more vulnerable (that might be too strong a word) I felt walking around unescorted by an imposing male figure. Never did I feel I was in danger, but random men felt the need to whistle and tell us how "magnifique" we were. Usually we were really good at putting our game faces on and ignoring them entirely. But once, we had a pseudo-stalker man following us on the Champs Elysees uttering who-knows-what about who-knows-which part of our anatomies, and I had reached my tolerance limit. I dug into the deep recesses of my memory and pulled out the only French phrase that Matt had buried in there before we left and spit it out at stalker man, "Laissez-moi tranquille!" I forcefully added a talk-to-the-hand gesture, and he surprisingly swerved down the next street and subsequently left us in peace. Victory! Other than those few isolated incidents, we couldn't have asked for better fortune with the crowds and with our sight-seeing. I'm telling you, if you ever want to go on a trip but are afraid something may go askew, just ask my girls to go with you. They're like the world's luckiest rabbit's feet. And I say that with the utmost respect and in the most flattering manner possible.

So on to some photos. Our camera batteries were exhausted in the City of Light, and we took a ton of awesome shots. I've done my best to whittle them down into a manageable lot that I think will depict the epic nature of our visit. Here goes nothing:

After a lunch of some pretty crappy street-side pizza, we took the cable car up Montmartre to Sacre Coeur. Allison dominates depth of field with her sweet Nikon, and she caught these dainty little rays in the railing of a fence surrounding the church.

This being the second-highest point in town (behind the Eiffel Tower) makes it a prime location for viewing some spectacular scenery. I thought this man and his beret were too cute not to be photographed. I can't help being creepy sometimes.

We walked down the backside of Montmartre and basically took the reverse route of the walking tour my family did with Croatian Chris. No time for dawdling. Off to the Arc de Triomphe, which is situated at the end of the...

We had just enough daylight left to climb to the top of the monument before sunset.

This is what the staircase looked like. Piece of cake.

And this is what our faces looked like when we realized our glutes were burning and we were out of breath, but we were only two-thirds of the way to the top. Just kidding, this is Napoleon. But I think our faces really might have looked like that.

We forgot all about our tired legs, and we only managed to catch our breath for a second, because this view from the top took it away again.

I can't decide which I enjoy more: looking at the Eiffel Tower from afar, or standing on top of it.

Fairytale ending. The colors were fabulous.

I became a little obsessed with the telefoto lens because it could capture the smoke coming out of the chimneys.

Plus, the roofs are just so dang beautiful in the twilight sun.

We peeled ourselves away from the gorgeousness to try and make it atop the Eiffel before calling it a day. Unfortunately, I think they were doing some maintenance or something. We found this comical sign:

I like it when things don't directly translate. You still get the point, but would probably never say the same thing in those exact words.

Not to worry, we took full advantage of our time outside the Tower by enjoying its sparkle at the top of the hour. I thought Jenna was going to faint she loved it so much.

Even my pokey, sticky-out-y hair can't ruin the moment. Magical.

Sparkle overload. I think we calculated that it twinkles for the first five minutes of every hour.

With that, we turned in for the night. Not too shabby, huh? The next morning, we ate breakfast at our hotel and recognized a couple that we had seen at a local restaurant. They introduced themselves, and they more or less acted as our guardian angels for the rest of our trip. Ricardo and Teresa were from Uruguay, and Ricardo's pilot brother (Pablo) joined them later in the week. They knew all about the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995 and were impressed that my husband goes to Cambridge. We saw them every single day, at least once, so we finally had to take a picture with them on the morning of our departure. I know I'm skipping ahead a little bit, but you just have to meet them!

Our hotel concierge was not exactly familiar with how a camera operates, but you get the idea. By the time we said our goodbyes, we had graduated from handshakes to hugs and dos besos (two kisses on the cheek.) I am fully in favor of implementing dos besos as the standard greeting in the US. It's so much friendlier.

So after our breakfast rendezvous with our Uruguayan amigos, we set out for the Louvre. After a lovely operatic serenade on the metro by a very vocal Spanish woman, we got to the museum before it even opened! Who says three girls can't be punctual? The place was practically deserted. We were alone in the room with the Venus de Milo, meaning that I didn't have to crop my pictures at her waist this time just to eliminate the tourist heads! Awesome. We also got to walk right up to the Mona Lisa. When I was there in December, the closest I could get was about 20 feet away. Incredible. It's so much easier to really ponder and appreciate the art when you aren't worried about getting in someone's way or having someone's elbow in your back and their camera in your line of sight.

So very happy to be on schedule and to have such minimal traffic. Allison's headphones remind me - Rick Steves (the travel writer guy) became a very real presence on our trip. He was like the fourth member of our crew. His podcasts, maps, and books never steered us wrong. Thank you, kind sir.

This photo was a must. For one, there was no one else standing in front of the largest painting in the Louvre, which NEVER happens. And two, I wanted to show just how large the largest painting really is. Massive. Napoleon had some outrageous means of compensating. (PS - I need to work on not slouching. Ugh.)

And we ended our brief tour of the Louvre highlights with the customary pyramid picture. As reluctant as Allison was, we made her do it. Don't think less of her. We determined on this trip that she was the only adult out of the three of us because she wears lipstick on a daily basis. However, we could not let her be so adult that she missed out on the kitschy, cliché photo ops.

See, it's not so bad, right?

For fear of making this post way too super duper long, I will stop there for today. Cliffhanger!!! Preview for tomorrow's post: Versailles, Eiffel Tower (round deux), Notre Dame, Sant Chapelle, our friend Maggie, the Orsay, and lots of gardens. Whew, I'm exhausted just thinking about all that typing. I might even throw in a pic or two of Matthew and I in our formal attire for tonight's festivities. Might have to wait until Saturday, though. Have a terrific Thursday!