Parce Que C'est Mon Anniversaire

It's funny how we can use our birthday as an excuse to do things or to make things acceptable. Like, I slept in until 9:30 BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Or I bought a fancy, delicious pastry from Show Gourmand for breakfast BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. Or I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. You get the idea. People have to accept your behavior because it is your birthday. It's kind of awesome.

The days leading up to my birthday were also pretty great. On Thursday I went to Paris and my friend Jessi and I went to the Catacombs. They were awesome. They were cold and damp and filled with dead bodies, but the history was interesting and it was pretty cool.

 Yes that is a mountain of bones and skulls. They just piled the bodies in there, kind of sad, but then later they tried to organize them.

 This guy that worked in the catacombs in the area where they quarried limestone carved these images.

 From memory.

 A spring in the catacombs. I threw in a penny and made a wish.

After the catacombs we went to the Marais area to try out this falafel stand Jessi had heard about. We got a little lost, but we did find it, and the falafels were delicious. Then we went to the national archives and walked around the museum and of course some prince and princess had lived there years ago.

France is lousy with castles because every new leader and their family had to have their OWN castle. They couldn't live in one that OTHER people lived in. They weren't animals! Don't blame them for their childish behavior, blame years of inbreeding. On the upside, there are a ton of awesome castles in France and they all are a museum of some kind or another now.

Then we went to Angelina's to get some hot chocolate. It was delicious, but not worth 7 euros. France is definitely better in the hot chocolate department than America is though. For sure. We hung out in the Tuileries and drank our HC and talked about what two young American women spending time studying in France would talk about. That night trying to get back home was an adventure. I was in the station at Chatelet when an announcement came over the intercom. You know, one of those intercoms where I probably would not have understood even if they had been speaking English. I caught something about Cergy and the train stopping at Sartrouville. So I thought I'd have to take the RER to Sartrouville and take the bus, but no RER was coming. I met this couple that was also waiting for the RER to Cergy, and I decided to stick to them like glitter to a craft person, and followed them to metro line 14 to the train at St. Lazarre to the bus at Sartrouville (ha see? I did understand SOMETHING.) Then the bus driver drove right past the Cergy Prefecture which illicited rage from other riders. These men came from the back of the bus and started screaming at the driver. Then he turned around and went back to the Prefecture. It was 2 AM when I finally got home, but I was so glad to see my residence that I didn't care.

Saturday I went back to Paris to Hotel de Ville to see the Sempe exhibit, BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. Sempe is kind of like France's Charles Schultz. I love his artwork, ever since my high school French teacher gave us some Petit Nicolas stories to read, and act out that one time. Good times.

Then I went back to this chocolate store in the Marais to buy some pumpkin jam I had seen in the window on Thursday, BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. Then I went to the 11th arrondissement to meet up with some friends for fondu, BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. When I got to the place where my directions said the restaurant was supposed to be, it was not there. I went into a grocery store and asked the clerk if she knew where the restaurant was, she said she had no idea . I finally went into a flower shop and asked an old Asian man where it was. He did know, and he told me. Asians always know. It was two doors down from the grocery store I went in to. Thanks store clerk.

Unfortunately the restaurant was closed. Sometimes restaurants close in the afternoons and then open again later. Sometimes their website won't tell you that. Just a heads up. So we went to a nearby cafe and I ordered veal BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. After eating my delicious veal I got a hot chocolate. They gave me a mug filled with rich dark chocolate syrup and another tiny pitcher with warm milk. So I could make it as rich and chocolatey as I wanted. I did, BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY. It was about as good as Angelina's, but cheaper, so, better.

Afterward I headed back to Cergy, talked to my family, and ate some bread with pumpkin jam, BECAUSE IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY.

Now I am twenty six. Weird. But good. Good French birthday.

Happy birthday today to my little sister. Look out world, she is sixteen. AH!