Should anybody ever decide to stay in Paris for a short period of time, my first recommendation for lodging would probably not lie in the 18th arrondissement of Paris; or rather as we discovered, the red light district. Hillary and I reserved what appeared to be a chique, modern looking apartment in said district back in April. The apt had everything we needed, including a nice black couch. Upon arrival, it turned out that the couch was not black, but rather grey with dirt highlights and the wooden floor was actually thatch. It is well known that France is fashion forward, but then again, I’ve never been one to follow fashion too closely. After a short time, Hillary managed to find a much nicer apt just a few blocks from the Sorbonne, where we will be taking our French class.
On Sunday we ventured to the Palace of Versailles, which was originally a hunting lodge for King Louis XIII, but became the seat of the monarchy during King Louis XIV’s reign. Although the Palace is unfathomably beautiful and rich, it has a bloody history that is strongly tied to the French Revolution and the beheading of King Louis XIV and Marie Antoinette. As during my previous visit to the palace, my favorite portion of the castle was the large, square staircases that had large divets worn into the marble, serving as a constant reminder to the palace’s lengthy history (or perhaps its role as a modern tourist attraction, but I prefer the former).
On Sunday, Hillary, Katherine and I partook in the classic Eiffel Tower visit, which, surprise, was just as stunning and cliché as one might imagine, but don’t let that stop you. Despite our late arrival of 10 pm, the line snaked back and forth under the base of the tower due to the closure of one of the two elevators. Given the recent ankle injuries of both Hillary and I (clearly we were meant to be roommates), we decided the better part of valor would be returning at a time when the elevators didn’t require the sacrifice of a whole evening. But we did manage to snag a few artistic photos before jumping back onto the subway (or as Katherine calls it, the Tube).