Dear Diary,

Today was another good day in Paris.  I absolutely, positively love it here.  This morning we did a walking tour of Montmatre, the artsy fartsy part of town (as if the city couldn’t be more art-filled!).  I saw where artists such as Picasso, Toulouse-Lautrec, and Van Gogh lived and worked.  I saw the still-poppin’ red light district, including the Moulin Rouge (although I couldn’t go inside b/c I’m still a not-rich dreamer).  The tour guide said it looks exactly like it did back then inside and that it costs between 79 euros and 179 euros to get in now.  Wow!  I saw a street where houses cost $1,000 per meter or something crazy like that.  Whatever it was, it translated to a place about the size of my townhouse cost $1,550,000.  CRAZY!! 

I saw a beautiful cemetery where ivies were in abundance (ok, ok, ivies are in abundance all over Paris but still).  The most memorable thing about that is the headstone/bust on the grave of the psychiatrist of the singer named Davida.  He designed it so that he seems to watch you as you walk past him.  Creepy.  A head doctor effing with people’s heads forever more, go figure!

The music here is awesome.  In front of the basilica we passed, we heard the sounds of an accordion, then a violin.  Then I had an omelette fromage and a crepe avec fraise et glace vanille.  Yum.  my. 

After a full day of roaming and wandering, I’m convinced that I have to come back and spend some more time in Paris.  Visiting the museums leisurely, reading books I never knew existed like Le passe-muraille by Marcel Ayme, which is about a disgruntled government worker who discovers he can walk through walls and gets stuck in one after awhile).  There is a dedicated monument to the author in Monmatre of him stuck in the wall.  I think I could take a Ranada Renaissance sabbatical right here in Par-eeeeeeeeeee.  Find a room somewhere like the artists did. 

Something else I’ve been pondering today.  Maybe it’s okay for people to think I’m different or crazy. Pretty much all of the artists except Picasso were crazy, certifiably.  I don’t want to be certified crazy, now, but for real, these “loonies” are considered geniuses and fathers of entire artistic styles and movements.  So maybe crazy just contributes to genius.  Or maybe genius is so genius that it seems crazy at the time.  I’ve already pondered this many times.  It takes guts and prolly a couple of screws loose or just lack of concern about public opinion to be different and “revolutionary.”  The beginning of the revolution never seems glamorous or the next big thing.  Heck, a lot of trailblazers don’t even get recognized until they’ve been dead longer than they were alive.

Well, one more full day in Paris.  I can’t believe my trip is coming to an end.  It was definitely worth my while and worth my entire annual leave bank, lol.  I have learned more than I can ever blog about, although I’ll keep telling trip stories on here until I’ve run out.  People say when you travel to Europe, your life forever changes.  It’s true.  The way of life is different.  I can count how many SUV’s I’ve seen, but I can’t tell you how many Smart cars I’ve seen.  The waitresses don’t rush you at restaurants.  They expect people to lounge and talk and stay for awhile at meals.  When people here say they speak “only very little English,” their skills are MUCH better and extensive than when I say “Je parle Francais un peu.”  Kids get to take field trips to Versaille.  Well, diary, I’m getting quite sleepy.  Until next time!