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!