Where in the World is Markmen Radtkiego?

Saw the Catacombs. Gruesome stuff. A family in front of me thought it would be a good place to take their 3- or 4-year-old. Needless to say, the child was terrified. I guess it builds character — besides, he’ll need something to talk to his therapist about. Leaving for Amsterdam in the morning by way of Brussels. I’ll probably have some pictures up this time tomorrow, but that depends on what Internet cafes are like in The Netherlands.

The first batch of post cards are in the mail, so if I like you a lot you should expect your’s to arrive in 5-10 days. Don’t worry if you don’t get one this round, there will be more. I never realized how tough it could be to get stamps in this country. My first attempt was to go to the post office. Unfortunately, the French seem to have some kind of bizarre socialist postal system where everyone can send a certain amount of mail every hour, because everyone just was just standing around inside the post office, and there was no detectable beginning or end of the line. I decided I’d take my chances elsewhere. I went downtown (by the Latin Quarter and Luxembourg Palace — Chalson, I couldn’t find L’Atlas); I assumed that one of the many copy centers or general stores/tabacco shops would sell stamps. A few of the stores politely said ‘Non,’ but at least two of them said something to the effect of ‘French or no sale.’ The moral of the story is that you are about to recieve the greatest postcards ever.

At least they drive on the right side of the road. (Did I mention that already?)

Oh, and to explain the title of this post: when I was eating dinner the music was switching back and forth between some French music and older American pop. A French song played for a while, and when the chorus came around the second time, I realized I’d heard the song before. It turns out it was Rush, but in French. That got me thinking that maybe Rush wrote all their songs in French, and translated them to English for an American audience. Are there any Rush fans out there who are 1) willing to publically admit that they’re Rush fans, and 2) able to answer the question?

(Forgive any typos in this entry, I’m not typing on a qwerty keyboard. The only way I could describe it would be ‘azerty’.)

I’ve been in Paris for about 48 hours, and things couldn’t be going better, considering that my grasp of the language consists of ‘yes’ ‘no’ ‘please’ ‘thank you’ and ‘pardon.’ Needless to say, it’s very hard to be anything less than polite. I’ve found that some people (particularly waiters) give me a look that manages to say, “You’re not fooling anybody… let’s just try and do this in English, shall we?”

Went to the Louvre yesterday for a few hours. I got lost in the Egyptian section for a while; after my earlier visit to the British Museum, the Louvre’s collection of artifacts (artefacts) wasn’t nearly as impressive. I only have a certain tolerance for black-top redware (as I’m sure Bill can appreciate). Once I found my way to the wing with the Italian masters, I was quite impressed. Who would have thought you could paint Jesus in so many different situations? The poor guy must not have had time for anything else. (“And for my next miracle, I’ll turn water into funk.”) Obviously, I visited the Mona Lisa; the room wasn’t anything like The Da Vinci Code said it would be. (Damn you and your lies, Dan Brown!) Hundreds of people were crowding around the painting trying to take pictures of it. Why anyone would take a low-quality shot (some people even had the flash on!) of the most famous and easiest-to-download painting in the world is beyond me.

Overall, the Louvre’s paintings and sculpture weren’t as impressive as the building itself. If am am ever installed as the king of France, my first order of business will be to move 90% of the paintings to another museum and turn the building back into a palace.

Today I’m going to find Jim Morrison’s grave. Then, who knows. Maybe I’ll have a baguette.

To Paris in a few hours, aboard the Eurostar. I'm too hung-over to deal with the French. Wish me luck.

Walked from Gosvenor Sq to my hostel. The hostel's near Paddington Circus. Very nice place (the internet area's not nearly as sketchy as the place I was last time; no fleas). Spent the evening with a friend of Lindsay's ... [Continue reading this entry]