Oh a handsome young boy Oh I'm pregnant.......That's what Howard said

I had a full day the other day. First I hopped on over to the Musee Carnavalet, where I think the thing that most intrigued me was the lock of hair of Marie Antoinette, it was blond. I can't tell you why I feel sympathy for her but I do. Everyone else is like (excuse the like) vive la revolution power to the people and I think this poor young girl thrown into a foreign country with no idea what it truly means to lead people. I blame her parents. If I had been in the same place I am sure I would have taken pleasure in macarons, fancy hair styles, and pretty dresses, although I would like to think that I would have been somewhat concerned with les peuples. And of course I wandered from the revolutionary rooms to the apartments that displayed the king's living arrangements. I strolled the elaborate rooms of colored wall paper and upholstered furniture and glossy portraiture. As I was walking through an empty room that resembled a ballroom with mirrored walls I heard classical music wafting through the air. Apparently there was a concert going on and I must say that the violins added a wonderful ambiance so that I could waltz away into the finely coiffured garden courtyard and bask in the sun until my rendez-vous at the Picasso Museum. The architecture of the Picasso Place was wonderful. Outside it looks like a traditional french city mansion, but the window panes are colored every shade of the rainbow and there is a scaffolding that covers half the entrance. On the side of the scaffolding which cuts the building in half, there is a storied mirror...quite trippy. I am going to be honest I liked the architecture more than I like Picasso. I am very sorry but not a big fan. Throughout the rooms, white walls adorned with flowery imagery on the ceiling corners were juxtaposed against wooden frames and chandeliers made in the Picasso style. I did love two painting though which were exhuberant in color and expression. Then I walked with my friend all the way to Montmarte and the sex district with peep shows springing up on either side of the rue as you near the Moulin Rouge. This was after I saw 3 protests, one of which included Arab men dancing in a big circle to repetitive music that is still in my head. I really don't know what they were protesting, perhaps the necessity for Paris to have Arab dance halls. I promise I am not being racist, this is simply the only conjecture I can make from the activities I saw. Afterwards, I had dinner at a typically French restaurant, quaintly lined with old celebrity photographs and fifties music. Of course I only ate bread and cheese and ti was great. Then we thought it would be great to scale the steps of Sacre Coeur, but that is never a good idea on saturday night. The steps were littered with bottles and the folk were unruly and ready to pounce on foreigners. I then to went to a fruit drink cafe on Champs elysees with friends and French partners from the Sorbonne, sure beats the brown jug, no no no they are simply different. Oops missed the metro again, but at least I had the expertise of a French man to guide me and Marina on the bus system back to my bed.