Your Baguette Is Showing

Place Stravinsky, Marais, Paris

Yesterday, I explored London a bit, but mostly hung out and got a sense of where I was. I took and enjoyed the Original Tour, that big, red, double-decker bus so common in movies... also so common in London. It was good to be able to sit down on the bus when I wanted, get off when I wanted, and experience London without having to be too focused -- I was tired from quite a long travel day.

I did get a chance to cruise down the river from the Tower of London to Westminster. The guide was funny... he reminded me of a tour guide from The Jungle Cruise in Disneyland.

Another highlight of my brief stay in the UK (don't worry, I'm ending my trip there) was the Winston Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms. This exhibit basically takes the actual underground bunkers that England's Prime Minister, Churchill, used during World War II and restores them to what they looked like at the time, complete with models and audio recreations. As London was bombed by the Nazis, Churchill was barricaded underground, planning the war.

After some moseying around in London, I headed for St. Pancras International Station and, after an hour, got on the Eurostar train to Paris. I guess I was tired because I slept through nearly all of it. I awoke occasionally and thought, "I wonder when we'll go through the 'chunnel' and get to France." After a while, I realized that the street signs on the nearby highway were in French. I missed it completely. Oh well, I can see it next time I guess.

Maybe it's psychological, a response to being here alone, but I keep "seeing" people I know from home. Constantly. I know, of course, that the person I see in London is not the person I know back home, but my brain is really amazed by the perception of similarity. Maybe everyone has a European doppelganger.

Arriving at Gare du Nord in Paris, I discovered that I had plenty of British pounds, plenty of American dollars, but not a single Euro. I searched without success for an ATM or a means to pay for the metro to my hostel but had no luck. I finally changed some of my dollars at an exchange booth and went on my way to Laumiere station.

I felt uncomfortable in Europe at first, but by now, I think I feel a bit at home. Everything is so old and awesome.

I got a little lost on the way to the hostel, but by this time I was feeling tired and a bit antisocial. When I finally got there, I looked around, read a bit, grabbed some pringles and a Coke and called it a night. It was a bit difficult to sleep... there's the jet lag... but I held out okay.

Sodas are different here. I tried Dr. Pepper and Cherry Coke and both weren't the same drinks that I usually get back home. They tasted more... natural? Kind of like "Pepsi Throwbacks." I think they use real sugar instead of corn syrup.

When I woke up today (for the fourth or fifth time) I took a shower and got moving. I started my day with a planned walk in Marais that I got from Rick Steves' guidebook. I started at Place de la Bastille, an enormous roundabout and the former site of a royal prison liberated during one of the (apparently many) French revolutions. In the center of the roundabout is a giant statue of the god Mercury, carrying the torch of freedom

In the nearby Place des Voyages, where Louis XII rides his horse in the center, people are just going about their business. They run, stretch, walk or just hang out here -- it's like a park, but not. As old as this area is, it remains affluent. The houses surrounding the Place des Voyages were built for, but never used by, royalty.

On past assorted shops, botiques and squares, I found a quaint Jewish Quarter, where Jewish folks of all types were starting their day. It looked like a hasidic version of Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

Just down from the Jewish Quarter, I was walking along a narrow street when a man walked by. He pointed to the area below my waist and said what sounded like "Baguette?" Having no idea what he was talking about, I answered "Bonjour!" He kept pointing at my, um, area and eventually I realized that my pants zipper was down. Here's how that conversation looked for him:

FRENCH MAN: Excuse me, your fly is down, sir.
TOURIST: Hello!!

Thanks, random Paris dude. I appreciate it.