My flight touched down in San Francisco just after 10pm. After picking up my checked baggage, I took the Bart to Civic Centre to rendez-vous with Peggy at Hotel Whitcomb. She had arrived in the city in the early afternoon. Even before I got some late dinner, we decided to find ourselves a lounge/club to go to – after all, we were in San Francisco, on a Saturday night, old partners in crime…
Just when I was lamenting that my tan from my Paris trip had faded, I went and got myself sunburnt. Ack!
It was during the BC Day long weekend, a civic observance which translate to a 3 day weekend or otherwise known as “any reason for us Lotuslanders to party.” But hey, not that I’m complaining. We need more 3 day weekends, especially in the summer.
It’s not fair.
I just said goodbye to Paris and today I had to prepare to say goodbye to London. I chose to spend my last afternoon walking around Oxford Circus/Carnaby area. Shopping for cheesy souvenirs for family, friends and yes, for me too, for I can’t resist the thought of drinking my tea out of an ‘Underground’ or ‘Mind the Gap’ black coffee mug. And those tacky coin banks in the shape of a red telephone box? It’ll be on my shelf, housing all my unused pound sterling and Euros, thank you very much.
I can’t believe it’s the last day of my Paris trip…That was 6 days?
For our last day in Paris, we decided to go to the immense and sprawling grounds of Hotel des Invalides, along the Seine’s southern bank.
French rap music sucks.
Okay, maybe it doesn’t suck, but it sure does at 2 or 3 in the morning. Some dill hole was blasting that wretched noise out of what seemed like airhorn speakers from either his car, with his doors ajar or his flat with the windows opened for the whole of our block to hear. Probably for a stretch of up and down a few blocks. Where the heck was the noise police? Needless to say, I didn’t get nearly enough sleep as Chris and I planned on going to the Louvre early this morning. I woke up a little cranky. Argh.
Since the Louvre doesn’t open on Tuesday, Chris and I decided to spend the afternoon at Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise. I wouldn’t doubt that the 48 hectare Pere Lachaise is the world’s most visited cemetery. With over 1 million resting here and such luminaries as composer Chopin, writers Moliere, Balzac, Proust, Collette and Gertrude Stein and artists Pissarro and Modigliani, it’s not hard to imagine why. Course I wanted to visit Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde and of course, Pere Lachaise’s most famous resident, The Doors’ Jim Morrison.
The best compliment anyone can give me when I’m travelling is to come up and ask me for directions. It’s happened in every city I’ve been to. That is the most flattering to me.
This morning while I was sitting on a rail, waiting for Chris to get his morning fix, a woman came up to me and asked in French, ‘Ou est la fourche?’ (metro station nearby). I pointed in the direction she was going in and said, ‘La fourche est la-bas.’ and then she thanked me and went on her way. What a groovy way to start the morning!