Original Email No. 3 - Gay Pari

Hello, again!
Well, we're out of Gay Pari and back to the cold northern scourges of Edinburgh. Here's a quick recap of France:

When we got off the train, we were greeted by a barrage of colors and languages, and among the best and worst of these, at least four clever scoundrels offering to "fetch us Taxis" and whatnot for our cash (I must admit, they had a very pretty system for targeting tourists "Do you speak English?"...) We did manage upon our own cab (without any tricky "finder's fees") and had a very nice driver who let me have a short conversation with him to warm up my French (I was the designated Language Learner for our trip... great fun! Je parle Francais... pas!

We stayed in a 300 year old hotel half a block away from the Louvre itself, and got a chance to spend about five hours there yesterday (though it hardly felt like five minutes!) We saw the Mona Lisa behind her glass curtain, Venus de Milo, the Nike of Samothrace, a room full of Rubens, and Hammurabi's Code among other countless prizes. Earlier that same day we'd spent three hours hanging around (and off of... just kidding) the Eiffel Tower, which reminded me of a European version of the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building... neato!

We were only there for about a day and a half before we left this morning, so whatever other time we had was spent on a tour bus zipping around the city. It was actually quite hilarious, because the driving in Paris is deadly, to say the least, so site seeing from the top of a double decker tour bus that's going 70 down a two lane street built two feet wide was a marvelous game.

Here's how the game went: I stand up and snap a picture of Le Madeline or Le Arch de Triomphe as it flashes by. At the same time, traffic begins to move again, and so does the bus. It was me versus the bus: whoever hits the car below first... loses. Usually it was something of a tie, but, like I said, it was a lot of fun, and, fortunately, there were no sore losers!

Did I mention I've been reading a book for each place we visit? For London it was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and for Edinburgh it'll be the Complete Poetry of Robert Burns. Paris was the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Oh my gosh! I forgot Notre Dame!
I'd describe it, but there are no words. It was the most beautiful place I've been- heaven in a stone jar. The place was all hazy with incense and light poured in through stained glass windows like wine. Candles flickered in every corner, rows upon rows, with pilgrims whispering vespers in several of the still functioning side chapels. Unlike Westminster Abbey, which was more of a Historical Building with inklings of religious activity... Notre Dame is still a thriving Cathedral, that just happens to have over 2,000 visitors file through it daily. I swear, upon entering, I would have believed anything anyone would have told me, such was the power of that Sanctuary... I can only imagine what it would have been like through the eyes of a French Farmer turned pilgrim, traveling thousands of miles by foot to gaze at St. Peter's Knuckles! What a sheer shock, going from the packing house to the house of the Lord! Truly, with the beauty of that place, I would have thought they'd ground down Mount Olympus and used the stones to build the cathedral. Stunning, truly stunning.

Sorry, I'll try and trim down my blabbering. I've been reading too much Victor Hugo, and there's a man marked by his four page paragraphs!

Either way, after Paris we hit the trains and rode pretty much straight up here to Edinburgh, with a short stop in Waterloo station for Meat Pasties and a liter of Vittel (mineral water). Oh, and we did pass through Islington, for all of you Hitchhiker readers out there... though I didn't meet any Arthurs or Zaphods or Trisha/Trillians, and we left out of King's Cross station, which, I can't remember, but don't they say something about it in War of the Worlds or Harry Potter or one of those?

Edinburgh greeted us with a wet slap- nice and soggy as it is, though the country is beautiful as only Scotland can be; sweet and wild, with the thistle tangled all over her.

We haven't been here long, but I already love it. We're staying in this quaint little bed and breakfast, about three stories tall, and old, old house (we're going to ask for the History tomorrow). It's called Kingsway, and its run by the nicest woman about 5 feet tall with a real thick Scottish accent. We met a fellow on the train, that reminds me, who was stone drunk but very friendly. He got a real kick out of our Norsky accents, and said he wished he could have been more help telling us what places in Edinburgh to visit, but he couldn't remember his own street address, much less the name of any bald hill cathedrals. Yup, he was friendly, alright, and red faced with whiskey!

And, yes, Da Vinci fans, we are going to stop by Rosslyn Chapel sometime tomorrow or the next day... after Loch Lomond and Stirling Castle. Ooh, and yes, another note for Da Vinci decoders: There was a line of people waiting to have their pictures kneeling before Dan Brown's Holy Mary. You know, the other one.

Alright, enough strange tales for one email, I bet you're all bored out of your minds by now, so I'll stop typing any word now. Too bad I didn't have another time limit on this one, eh? (Or, as they say in Scotland, ayeh?)

Oh yeah, Hunchback of Westminster Abbey...
I suppose he'll just have to wait until the next 60 pager novel. Hm, or perhaps I'll just dub these "Epics"? Yes, my series of Epic emails from Europe. Good deal!
Cheerio, then. Take care, everyone! Much love, miss you all tons, again, hope your summers are going well!
Hugs and Scottish Oat Cakes
-Sara