Bye Paris

Let no one say that I have not tried to be a good tourist. Louisa will understand just how bad I can be. But oh no, through a mixture of knowing a tiny bit more of the political history of the area than usual, moral pressure, social arkwardness and the fact that Paris is actually spectacular I have battled from one site to the next over the last few days. I can happily say that I have ticked off all of the unmissables and some of the could be missed but oh no not me I didn't miss them-ables.
The Eiffel Tower- There was a giant inflatable rugby ball levitating in the middle of the Tower when Jules and I had the pleasure. It made me feel almost entirely ovarian, but only for a little while.
Sorbonne- I must stop slagging off Melbourne Uni if I am going to be totally bowled over by the real thing. The Latin Quarter was exactly what I wanted it to be, so much so that I even stopped chewing my nails and feeling stupid in favour of the superior feeling of awe.
Pantheon- Me, sunshine, a baguette, the weary looking copy of Germinal and Zola's body lying in state. What a team.
Bastille- Apparently the most famous tourist attraction for something that no longer exists. It was almost exciting as my first coffee in Paris, which I had in view of the golden angel man.
Catacombs- Humbling.
Cimitiere du Pere Lachaise- Also humbling. A central theme for me in Paris
Pompidou Centre- What do I love more? 90's artwork or pop music? They seem so similar I can't even tell. An Art Brut moment, and I don't have many of them.
Pletzl- The Jewish and or gay and lesbian quarter of Paris in Marias. Here I found a moment of what my travel guide described as “bourgeious and bohemian tranquility” and the most stunning waiter in history. I have never seen denim or grey hair worn so well, or at least so well together.
Montparnasse Tower- The highest point from which to see Paris. I remember thinking “Paris is stressful” and not a lot else. Maybe too much to take in at once.
Hotel des Invalides- The place where the people got the guns to storm the Bastille.
Basilique du Sacre Coeur-
La Cigale- I missed THE NEW PORNOGRAPHERS by three days. Which is two too many to get really upset about.
Butte Montmarte- pretty. A better view than from Kings Park in Perth even. Seriously.
Pigalle- Sex for sale is not interesting, not even in Paris
Arc de Tiomphe- big
Champ Elysees- My view of the ultimate Bourke Street was slightly obscured by an extremely serious Celtic festival. I think Perfume and Bagpipes are going to go hand in hand for a long time for me.
Left Bank- is now more than a name to me
Bercy Gardens – Pretty.
National Biblioteque- the epitome of stubborn bad design.
Louvre- Here John introduced me to the beauty of French gardens. It was strangely reminiscent of a Brazilian wax and left me a little edgy.
Notre Dame- I really do think that circles are the best shape.

So it was spectacular, and at times spectacularly stressful. But then thats just me. Paris is great. Everything they said was true. But I am sure no one needs me to tell them that.