Hope You're Doing Swell!

Today was the second full day in Paris. Last night, Whitney told me that I had to pick my best outfit for today since it was the day I'd been waiting for "since I was three months old"; we were going to the Eiffel Tower. I ended up going with my graduation dress since a) it has stripes, which seems very French, b) it's pink and c) in Whitney's world, these events are of equal value.

We woke up really early and took the Metro to the Trocadero Station. Yup, we went on the subway, I will say that it wasn't too challenging and that is was a smoother ride than the T, although it smelt just as bad. This dropped us off pretty much at the Eiffel Tower around 8:15. I'm pretty sure that we'd actually woken up before France because no one was there. It was awesome.

EMPTY

One of the greatest parts about our walk to the Eiffel Tower was Whitney claiming that I'm ruining her attempts to make me "insta-famous" by being bad at looking natural. I'm bad at posing for candids... I still don't think that she understands the concept of a candid photo...

The Eiffel Tower doesn't actually open until 9, so we had a while to wait when we got into line at 8:30 (and no, we were not the first people there). I told Whitney that we were going to take the elevator and that we didn't need to climb the 1,710 stairs like she wanted to. Since we were there so early, it didn't take us too long to get to the top. It was cold at the top... It was actually cold everywhere since the sun wasn't really out yet and Whitney and I had both dressed for the weather we expected would come later in the day, so as I said, I'm been waiting my entire life to become a popsicle. Neither words nor sarcasm can properly describe the top of the Eiffel Tower; after having been there, I completely understand why people propose to each other there, because why wouldn't you want to say "I love you" at the top of the world?

This would be an actual candid photo of me.

Whitney also thought it would be a really great place for a prom-posal. On the way down, we stopped on the second level and got some breakfast. Croissants on the Eiffel Tower, no big deal, right?

After that, we walked to the Champs Elysees for some shopping. While we had been planning on going there anyways, Whitney was on a mission to find some new shoes because hers were not suited for a full day of walking. She eventually found a pair and bought a shirt -- that I picked out -- as well.

I hadn't originally planned on writing about where we went to lunch, since it was a bit embarrassing, but the whole thing was so ridiculous that leaving it out would leave my blog incomplete. We went to McDonald's. Yup, that is why I had planned on not writing about it because it's McDonald's and why would we go there when we're in Paris? We just wanted to grab something fast but ended up with the worst McDonald's experience of our existence. McDonald's in Paris is really different. The first difference, I would say is that while our McCafe is just a coffee drink, they actually have a separate cafe where they serve muffins and things (we checked out another McDonald's to verify that it was not specific to the Champs Elysees) but they also had self-order kiosks. Their menu was also quite different. It was ungodly crowded, so the idea of it being "fast food" went out the window. We ended up ordering from an employee who was just walking around the restaurant with a little pin pad -- she gave us a piece of paper with a number that we were supposed to bring to the register to confirm our order and get our food. Before we got to the register, however, a visibly pregnant woman asked if she could step in front of us because she was pregnant and really needed to eat. Like really? You're starving and you want to give your unborn baby McDonald's? Eventually we got our (cold) food and ate outside as quickly as we could just to be done with the whole ordeal. We decided that it was more traumatic than the Aussie Burger experience of 2002.

At the end of the Champs Elysees is the Arc de Triomphe. Can I just say that I want a giant arch built to recognize me and my accomplishments? Yes, I know that Napoleon was crazy, but I totally deserve something that awesome.

Look how tiny Whitney is!

We unanimously decided not to go to the top because, having seen the Arc de Triomphe from the top of the Eiffel Tower, we didn't want to spend the money for the view.

Next, we headed to the Hotel des Invalides. This was originally a hospital for soldiers, but today is a comprehensive museum for France's military history. We were mostly interested in it because it now contains Napoleon's tomb.

So fancy.

We may or may not have taken a selfie with Napoleon, I'm not at liberty to say (plus it's on Whitney's cell phone and not my camera, so I can't post it here anyways). Whitney wanted to know if they ever open up the tomb to check up on Napoleon, dust him off and ask him how he's doing -- "hey Napoleon, hope you're doing swell!" We also agreed that we would be ok with being sick if it meant we could stay there.

Having done all of this by 3, we decided to be ambitious and get back on the Metro and head to Sacre-Coeur. The ride was uneventful, except for the fact that I realized that my deodorant was doing a great job and that other people weren't quite as lucky.

Sacre-Coeur was a hike to say the least. After marching up a hill from the Metro station, we had to climb 228 stairs just to get to the church! (Yes, I counted). We went in and heard the nunnies singing, which led me to think about just how much my best friend, Sister John Marie, would cherish this whole experience. It also led me to think about what happens to a tone-deaf nun.

Going into the basilica is free, but Whitney and I wanted to take the tour of the crypt and the dome, so we went looking for that. Only we could get lost looking for something attached to the building we were already in. We ended up walking down a side street, the into a different church, back around through a market and finally up some more stairs to get back to where we started, although neither of us are complaining about that detour as it was totally charming and because getting lost has been part of our goal all along. This time, we were able to find the entrance. We started with the crypt, which was not what we were expecting. Chuck's experience with the crypts in Ukraine seems to have been much better than ours. We didn't have any idea what we were looking at and for the most part, it didn't look like anything. I'm sure that's sacrilegious, but since we aren't Catholic, so I think that God should just be happy that we showed up.

Next came the dome...which was another 300 steps (at least... we're debating if it was 300 total or 300 up then 300 down, which seems a lot more likely). Once again, these were spiral stone steps, but I did not fall today. It was worth it.

Ta dah!

The walk down was very dramatic. It included walking down and then up and then down again and I almost hit my head because I was too tall for the downward staircase. After that, we had to walk back down the 228 stairs we'd initially climbed to get back to the Metro station and have since returned to our hostel, where I sit blogging and plotting activities for tonight and tomorrow.