Day 2: Our... dame? (& c.)

Day two. Still in Paris. Still alive. Still kicking. Et cetera.
We went to see the world famous Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris today, and let me tell you, that thing is hooooooooooj. As a veteran of world cathedrals named Notre Dame (the other being in Montreal and having been visited by yours truly a few years back), I feel qualified when I say that this thing had an Official Largeness Rating of 9. There are lots of little sculptures (and big ones), paintings, votives, committed catholics, noncommitted catholics, tourists, and flagstones inside the cathedral, and we all just loved it. It turns out that it's not too painfully far from where we're staying. We were on a corner doing our best impression of hopelessly clueless tourists -mouths open, cameras out, necks craned upward; not really, we were just looking at a map- when a guy came up in desperate need of some English practice. In such need, in fact, that he was willing to break the strict Parisien Moral Code and converse -in English!- with a trio of hapless foreigners. He told us that it was "not so far by feet" to the cathedral, and we found that he was quite right. We used the map to guide us, turned a few corners, and then all of a sudden looked up and saw the church looming just ahead. I don't know why I was thinking we'd need an exact address or something. It's such a gargantuan building.
After chasing some pigeons around the square in front of the church and horsing around with the cameras for a few minutes, we walked along the river for a bit and then went to wander aimlessly for the rest of the day. One of the first things we happened to see was another legendary landmark I'd hoped to see and had no idea was so close to Notre Dame, the Shakespeare and Co. bookstore, Paris's largest (only significant?) English-language book shop. I wish I could describe how great this place is. It's not really a huge bookstore, actually it's only the size of a TINY house, but it is absolutely PACKED with books. Every surface that a book can stay on without defying gravity is pretty much covered. It would be a nightmare for a claustrophobe, but I'm not one, particularly, so I thought it was awesome. Not only were there a BILLION books, but at the top of a steep and inCREDibly narrow staircase was a section marked with a sign that said, "The books on the second floor are not available for purchase, but you are welcome to sit and read, and use these books for reference." On that second floor were several seats, and -get this- two BEDS in a room off to the side. Blankets and all. Apparently they get new linens every couple of days or so? But the idea is that if you want to come and curl up with a good book and get a nap in the middle of your tourism, you can. The whole shop was very, very cozy and home-ish already, seriously, and it was definitely a highlight of today.
The rest of the day was spent walking around and looking at different shops, eating in a little sandwich shop that was NOT warm enough inside (Did I mention it's about 35-40 degrees here and windy? 40 degrees is cold.), and making our way through several narrow pedestrian streets that had a TON of restaurants (Greek ones especially, oddly enough). We stopped for coffee and warmth at a little place called Malongo. It was a rather disorienting experience. Let me tell you why. We walked in and were greeted by an East Asian-looking guy (looked Indonesian, maybe?) who spoke perfect French (of course). I ordered drinks for Kirsten and me, but it turns out that the machine needed to prepare hers was broken. My grasp of French is a little tenuous, so I kind of lost some of the details when James started going on about the machine. He realized it, so he switched to perfectly fluent, British-inflected English. It was jarring. I think he was British. But this guy -his name became James, for reasons you already know if you paid close attention to my Tokyo exploits last year- was playing the three nationalities card, and it was a little tough to keep track of. Anyhow, after Malongo, we went over to the Jardin du Luxemburg, where we saw some guards, the Palais du Luxembourg (le Sènat), a nice little pond, a kid that was DEATHLY afraid of ducks, and some statues and whatnot. We wandered on home after that, and we were devastatingly cold by then. At one point, we did find a grate blowing mysteriously warm air, and we huddled over it for a few minutes. By the time we approached the apartment, Lindsey was nearly frozen solid, and Kirsten's feet were killing her, so I carried her the last little bit of the way home.
After we thawed, I went down to the grocery store and got some things for my World Famous Alfredo of Gastronomic Felicity (this time with ham, which was a personal hit) and made dinner for us all. We are all so grateful for having an actual apartment with a kitchen and everything rather than paying more (more!) for a third-rate hotel room an hour's ride outside the city! This is the life, seriously. We're right in the thick of things, and it's just great.
After dinner, we went looking for a 24-hour convenience store (we ran out of Orangina, and this is unacceptable), but in a country where it's illegal to be industrious (35-hour maximum work week), this is a pretty tall order. We came back empty-handed and -surprise!- cold. We're all winding down for bed now, which means that I've been banished to this side of the wall between the rooms until time for the tuck-in and bedtime story. Here are pictures of Notre Dame, the bookstore, the vent (mmmmmm...), and the three of us in the living room/dining room/kitchen. Tomorrow is the big tourist-y day, I think. The Champs Elysée, l'Arc de Triomphe, and some sort of tall thing. And a lot of walking around between vents. A bientot.

Kent