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So it was an exhausting day yesterday - so much so that I fell asleep around 9pm and woke-slept in cycles until around 4:30am, when I started replying to the friends who were worried by the attack in Nice and our presence in France.
There was breakfast selfies:
And boulangerie cakes:
We walked over to the Sacre Coeur church in Montmartre in the midmorning, with a pause for some geocaching, and selfies, and gardens.
I kind of wish I had my dad here to be able to explain the inticacies of French architecture.
One of my friends, Kris, is into geocaching, and we paused on a set of stairs to find the cache, assisted by a local who was 65 if a day, and was dropping massive hints to Kris to point out the location of the geocache!
But there were these gorgeous gardens in the back of Sacre Coeur - lovely terraced, water-featured things. Good for a sit down and a stare at the cathedral roof...
Oh, and the name MARIA in two-foot high stone as we came around the back. Like it was a sign... :)
And of course, there was Sacre Coeur itself, with its myriad tourists, the hawkers standing out the front, and all the cameras taking photographs!
After that, we wound our way down the hill, looking for a cemetary that Jenn wanted to see - both historical and currently in use (we found someone who'd died earlier this year). Degas was buried there, and Alexander Dumas, as well as Foucault the physicist. Which was all very interesting in a theoretical way, but not so much practically as by this time my hip had decided it had had enough.
Rather than explore the cemetary as fully as our friend Jenn wanted to, we mostly ended up just sitting on a bench at the entrance, looking at the sepulchres and the gravestones, while she went out to look at the people who'd lived and died and been buried here.
After that we were torn between going straight back to the apartment or having lunch. We ended up finding a really well-reputed place two streets away, some three doors down from the Moulin Rouge.
Hands with lovely nails!
Salmon Tartare, tomato salad, and rice pudding for dessert!
If you're ever in Paris, I highly highly recommend Le Sanglier Blue (the Blue Boar). It was GOOD FOOD. All of it. There were no mistakes, no missteps, the service was excellent, and we left a largeish tip (for Europe).
Finally, we wandered out past the Moulin Rouge to get an Uber home since we weren't really in a place to walk back, and while we could have caught the Metro from Pigallet to Marx Dormoy it would have been tiring.
And then I came back to the apartment, finished the next chapter of a fic, did some grazing, went for a walk, and then crashed like a great crashing thing. I have a sneaking suspicion my body is frantically trying to catch up on months of sleeplessness all at once on this holiday.
There was breakfast selfies:
And boulangerie cakes:
We walked over to the Sacre Coeur church in Montmartre in the midmorning, with a pause for some geocaching, and selfies, and gardens.
I kind of wish I had my dad here to be able to explain the inticacies of French architecture.
One of my friends, Kris, is into geocaching, and we paused on a set of stairs to find the cache, assisted by a local who was 65 if a day, and was dropping massive hints to Kris to point out the location of the geocache!
But there were these gorgeous gardens in the back of Sacre Coeur - lovely terraced, water-featured things. Good for a sit down and a stare at the cathedral roof...
Oh, and the name MARIA in two-foot high stone as we came around the back. Like it was a sign... :)
And of course, there was Sacre Coeur itself, with its myriad tourists, the hawkers standing out the front, and all the cameras taking photographs!
After that, we wound our way down the hill, looking for a cemetary that Jenn wanted to see - both historical and currently in use (we found someone who'd died earlier this year). Degas was buried there, and Alexander Dumas, as well as Foucault the physicist. Which was all very interesting in a theoretical way, but not so much practically as by this time my hip had decided it had had enough.
Rather than explore the cemetary as fully as our friend Jenn wanted to, we mostly ended up just sitting on a bench at the entrance, looking at the sepulchres and the gravestones, while she went out to look at the people who'd lived and died and been buried here.
After that we were torn between going straight back to the apartment or having lunch. We ended up finding a really well-reputed place two streets away, some three doors down from the Moulin Rouge.
Hands with lovely nails!
Salmon Tartare, tomato salad, and rice pudding for dessert!
If you're ever in Paris, I highly highly recommend Le Sanglier Blue (the Blue Boar). It was GOOD FOOD. All of it. There were no mistakes, no missteps, the service was excellent, and we left a largeish tip (for Europe).
Finally, we wandered out past the Moulin Rouge to get an Uber home since we weren't really in a place to walk back, and while we could have caught the Metro from Pigallet to Marx Dormoy it would have been tiring.
And then I came back to the apartment, finished the next chapter of a fic, did some grazing, went for a walk, and then crashed like a great crashing thing. I have a sneaking suspicion my body is frantically trying to catch up on months of sleeplessness all at once on this holiday.
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