Day Three: And then some snow

Good news this morning after a lightly restless night.

This morning I ventured out on my own in the rain and extreme cold and slight snow to meet Guy in Invalides which is near the Champs d' Elysee where we were a little disturbed to find a man lying on the ground covered in a jacket and surrounded by pigeons. 'Is he dead?' we wondered out loud - Guy went over to prod him but claims he saw his finger twitch and so on we went.

A misty and cold morning, we were in the search for breakfast, but ended up stumbling on beautiful old museums and then - The Disney Store! I was thrilled! I got a little something for a certain someone's baby girl sprog and we bought out tickets to Euro Disney for tomorrow - SO EXCITED! Guy is pretty much going to force me to do all the things I'm afraid of - good for my spirit!

I was slightly disturbed to see High School Musical childrens cheerleading outfits. Eww Disney.

Guy had to saunter off to school and I went a wombling down the Champs d' Elysee walking into over priced cosmetic stores and generally feeling quite sumptuous and uppity. The Louis Vuitton store was so intense - the cheapest thing was 300 Euro.

The timeout book recommended an expensive tearoom - the Laduree. So, naturally I went there. A 19th century inspired tearoom; fine, elegant and first class. Oh my - the chocolat chaud?BEST YET. Like velvety tar chocolate. Heaven ina dainty tea cup with a silver jug for a second helping (4 Euros... not that expensive??!!!!) The staff were very uptight (well I was wearing a bright green duffle coat, purple scarf, pink gloves, and teacosy hat- comforting though it is, I should never have let Mum talk me into the coat!)

I ordered a plain omelette and pommes frittes. Chips yum, omelette - a little on the vomitatious side. After which I ordered a famous raspberry macaroon and a grande creme. Ooh la la!

A little tutu up the road and I was at the Arc de Triomphe where a woman came up to me saying"Excuse me, do you speak English?" - this is while her partner in crime (and I mean that seriously) sands by nochalantly pretending he's not about to nick my bag. I look confused (great acting) and she says 'German? Italian?' etc, I shake my head rushing past.

The hilarious thing about the Arc de Triomphe is that it took ages to finish as Napolean built it too mark his victories while he kept losing wars. Hmm.

I'm definitely getting better at the lingo. Basic conversations are happening and I do not feel like such an English Oaf.

So, got a little lost in Champs d' Elysee and had to find my way to a metro that would take me where I wanted to go - La Musee D'Orsay. To cut a long story short, I ended up on the bus with a dignified German woman from Washington DC - we connected for a love of art and wonder of the cold. I got to the museum. Boy. It reminded me of my last trip to Paris when I was 17. The biggest mark that was left on me was this place. It is such a generous, warm place and you can just tell that it's really loved, really taken care of. The Louvre is a stale place in comparision. Ordered and plain. D'Orsay is a bit of a maze but so evocative and crazy and special. I got misty eyes and was overcome at the pictures that altered my view on art when I was 17 and wonder at new or unnoticed things that were made with such care. The Art Noveau section was simple, stylish and look like all the pieces would and could be at home in anyone's home. The naturalism section amused me, the portaits of women looking bored or bemused (as one might imagine a person would be at a 'sitting') and a particular painting of a sort of Spanish fella. He made me laugh. Such indifference.

The section holding the impressionists: Monet, Van Gogh, Matisse always - will always - move me. Colour, darkness, clarity, confusion, a moment, a breath... oh, how very artistic I feel.

I bought the Musee D'Orsay table book just to make a point (only about 40NZD - worth it if you're on Amazon) as to how much I love it.

Finally, on my home I stopped in the beauty that is the Notre Dame church in St Michel. (where incedently I was accosted by ANOTHER woman 'Excuse me, do you speak English?' )

The church is a safe place, with wafting incense, exquisite light and a very spiritual divine atmosphere - as one might expect. I lit a candle for my loved ones and, like last time, did not want to take photos. It's a place that is sacred to me and for some reason, taking a photo would spoil this particular place.

I'm now at home, ready for another brief outing - though an early night tonight methinks as a big Disneyland day tomorrow.