Parlez Vous Anglais?

Fact #1: Parisians are much less snooty than the reputation that proceeds them, but as a general rule, they have no clue how to form an orderly line. Fact #2: Paris is a mad house during Christmas and was (dare I say) dirtier than I was expecting. Fact #3: My dad was pretty darn good at using his French skills even after so many years of dormancy. I was proud (and thankful since my own skills are non-existent.) Fact #4: There is zero percent chance that I can convey how much I loved spending face to face time with my family (in Europe, no less)! I miss them already. Fact #5: Each day was packed with about a million funny incidents, and I wish I had the time/patience/blogging prowess to get them all in writing. Oh well.

Walking into our Parisian hotel, which unbeknownst to me when I booked it was located in the red light district of the city, it was surreal to see the McWilliams clan (and Jeff). Up until that point, Matthew was the only traveling companion I have had on my foreign excursions. Seeing my mom, dad, sister, and sister's boyfriend in the flesh felt so bizarre. It was kind of an out of body experience. Like stumbling upon a waterfall in the desert or something. Just out of place, but in a good way. Anyway, it was too early to check into our rooms, so we very trustingly left all our earthly possessions in the hotel lobby and set out for some grub and "boissons" (beverages.) Side story - when my dad asked the waiter in French what the word "boisson" meant, the waiter flatly replied (without skipping a beat and in flawless English), "Drink." Oops. Brain fart. Guess we should have known that.

Carousels and ice rinks are free to the public during the holiday season thanks to subsidization from the mayor.

Waiting on the metro, looking thrilled...or hungry. One of the two.

First major sight was Notre Dame. Out front is a spot denoting the exact epicenter of Paris. Inside is the creepiest/most chaotic organ music ever. And a Joan of Arc statue.

Remember the aforementioned Fact #2? Case and point. Champ Elysees Christmas market crowds shuffling in the direction of the Arc de Triomphe.

Said Arc. This was our last stop before an early bedtime the first night. We wanted everyone to be rejuvenated and jet lag free.

The next morning, we went to the Louvre museum. Or as I fondly refer to it - "The home of way too much Egyptian $#%t." I'm sorry. I know that was explicit. It is usually not like me to employ curse words. But by the time Matthew and I were lost for an hour walking/dodging oblivious bystanders through corridor after corridor of Egyptian artifacts when all we wanted to do was get the heck out of there, my verbal filter had deteriorated. Despite all that, we did manage to navigate our way to the most monumental of the exhibits. (No pun intended. They were mostly statues, not monuments.)

Little lady known as Venus de Milo. She's a perfectly proportioned size 12. Take that, modern day supermodels!

Hard to see, but there is a 144 carat diamond on the front of this crown above the huge ruby.

Speaking of large, this exceptionally large Veronese painting hangs directly across from...

... this exceptionally small yet famous painting. There were other Da Vinci's in the galleries, and I was really surprised at how similar all of the faces he painted were. Self portrait conspiracy theory seems plausible afterall.

Oh, Mona. Teeny tiny. Covered in glass. Surrounded by way too many people.

I thought these Michelangelo sculptures were nifty. He never finished them entirely (common theme for pretty much everything Mike started except the Sistine Chapel) and they are called "The Slaves" because they seem trapped forever in the stone from which they are struggling to emerge.

One of the Napoleon's apartments has been preserved on the top floor of the Louvre. His wife's jewelry was particularly astounding. These were the types of interesting pieces my family was finding while Matthew and I were straggling through the pits of Egyptian despair.

Finally escaped to the outside world! Whew.

Who worked up an appetite seeing all that famous stuff? We did! We did! Time for some fine dining. But don't drink too much water. It's not free. In fact, it is more expensive than alcohol.

Refueled, our next stop was Pont Neuf. Contrary to the meaning of its name "New Bridge," it is actually the oldest bridge in Paris.

Pont Neuf is in the background. The locks on the foremost bridge are put there by people who want to symbolize their love. They write their names on the locks, secure them to the chain links, and throw the key into the river to show that they are committed for the long haul. Cross my heart and throw away the key, or something like that.

The rest of our daylight hours were spent exploring the bohemian Montmartre neighborhood on an awesome guided tour. (Note: Free City Tours was the name of the company, for future reference.) The tour began outside Moulin Rouge and ended in front of the Sacré Cœur church. I'm afraid the details of that tour will have to wait until next time. There are simply too many pictures and captions to try and squeeze in to one today. (To be continued... again!)