Photo to the left is Swan Island, that tiny strip of land in the Seine, 2789 feet long and 36 feet wide. If you look closely, you can see a nine-foot replica of the Statue of Liberty on tip of the far end of the island--click on photo for blow-up of the same.I had a hard time finding an elevator to descend from the lower observation deck, and I went through lots of gift shops on the first and second levels (I didn't buy anything, thank you!). Climbing the tower using the 1268 stairs was an option (and cheaper) and I would've absolutely loved to do it, but I just didn’t have time. It was nearing 11am and I'd forgotten what time we were supposed return to the bus. I hoped I’d run into another tour member, or that cute oriental lady ironing her face without her boyfriend, but it didn't happened, so I decided I'd return by 4pm. I grabbed a corn dog on the other end of the Pont D’iem Bridge. No more experimenting with slimy salmon-cheese sandwiches. One more of those and my lunch would be swimming upstream. They put ketchup and Dijon mustard on the corn dog. It was delicious.
I moved along the muddy Seine (Seine means "Sacred River") viewing beautiful old structures as city buses, painted with Laetitia’s picture, passed me. She was everywhere. There were couples at every turn, and they were all paying attention to each other as if they were in love, or removing gnats from each other, not reading newspapers and watching football games on their portable DVD players like we do here in the States.
Paris is romantic, I suppose, depending on your definition of romantic. It’s Luxembourg City with epilepsy. You just want to shove a rag in its mouth to stop it from biting its bloody tongue off, but it's fun to watch it thrashing around you in all its old-world splendor. All I could hear was the rush of traffic and car horns--I mean, it is a huge city, so what would I expect? It’s not peaceful as portrayed on television, with those stupid accordions playing in the background. It's busy and noisy. I wanted to use my subway pass to speed my trip to the Notre Dame Cathedral, but I didn’t pass any subway stations. What I remember mostly from this particular visit is walking, walking, walking, sweating, and feeling yucky from sweat. Yucky, and thrilled to death to be in Paris, and hoping a beautiful lady would walk up to me and ask,"You French?"
