Is this real?

I had another amazing breakfast at my parent's hotel, it is a good thing I don't eat like that everyday....that is all. Croissants, butter, bread, orange juice, coffee all on upholstered chairs ooo the humanity. It was truly a dream to have them there with me an absolute blessing. We meandered the streets together window shopping and shopping, ate baguettes on benches in quaint squares, and happened upon forgotten architecture and passes. Then I had a class trip to the duh nuh nuh......Catacombs!. I had always wanted to go so I was particularly excited. You see, The year was 1786, and the French were running out of space. Near what is now Les Halles people were stacked in mounds of 10-20 in the cemetery of the Innocents church (Franklin March, 31). The burial ground was no longer a place of rest but a bustling park bursting with bodies. From time to time, the walls would collapse and bodies would spill into the apartment buildings that lined the cemetery. Not only was the idea of decomposing bodies intruding on living spaces eerily upsetting; it was also a public health hazard (Prendergast 75). The problem only worsened with the influx of people that migrated into the city in the early part of the nineteenth century. The population now consisted of varied social classes all rubbing shoulders on the same streets, resulting in overcrowding and disorder in general. However, the congestion and disarray did not stop on the city’s cobblestone streets, as people “continued to be a nuisance even when they were dead” (Prendergast 75). Something had to be done. So, underground passageways that were originally Roman quarries, were used to re-inter bony figures (Franklin March, 31). We descended on worn stone stairs spiraling downward until the reached the dark depths of the catacombs. Categorized by type and size the catacombs seemed an artistic feat. Femurs rested on top of the other fitting together like puzzle pieces and extended in this manner penetrating the deep sides of the passageway. Even skulls were arranged with accuracy, sometimes positioned into shapes as sardonic as hearts. With such attentiveness to detail, these placements were meant to be visually devoured. This architectural precision with regards to visual consumption eerily echoed the architectural devices of the department stores of the late nineteenth century. Stores like Le Bon Marche used iron to provide for open, spacious bays in which large quantities of goods could readily be displayed and through which vast crowds could move with ease” (Miller 42). There too, the space was organized around a crowd, with objects exhibited. The city was being packaged for general consumption and the catacombs as a open site for voyeurism for the public reaffirmed the notion of Paris's overwhelming sense of merchandising. Everything was for sale. Both locations also utilized light in presenting their wares, the department stores tapping natural light with skylights and the catacombs taking advantage of artificial. Just like Le Bon Marche, the catacombs were “clean, coherent and cost efficient” (Prendergast 81). The riff raff of the city was being erased to make way for sanitation, productivity, and currency. The low ceiling leaked and we hopped over puddles of as Marina might characterize it as bone juice. Marat ( I once had the priviledge of meeting his great great great great great grandson, contracted a skin disease from hiding down here so I was happy to once again to see the light of day and then enjoy an orangina with my parents looking out onto a busy street at a cafe. Then it was off the the Orangerie to see Monet's Nympheas which was lovely. THey have panels of Monet that line the circular walls of two room from floor to ceiling. The scenes were serene and magestic with lily pads laying on soft blue waves and he green of willows and brown of branches stirring the flowers and water. THe colors were magnificent and the details were pleasing. It was like seeing the stuff of what nature was made of at a microscopic level, which came together to show the most naturalistic and beautiful image of nature. We walked and walked afterwards through the tuilleries all the way to Pont Neuf to start at the grotesque faces lining the bridge. The sun was setting and the lights of the bridge became brighter and brighter twinkling in the twilight. We sat on the oldest square in Paris next to the pont and watched a group of young men play bocci ball. It was so peaceful. Then it was off to cinne citta one of the best Italian kosher restaurants I have ever eaten at they have two one in miami and one in paris how decadent. It was a delightful meal in which my parents met Muriel and Marina my two French loves. There was much translation that went on as Muriel knew only French and my mother knew only English. IT was truly nice though to practice my French because I felt so comfortable with the people surrounding me, therefore I was able to spew out anything that came to mind with no fear of making mistakes because I knew my audience would be forgiving and that is how you should learn and practice a language anyhow. The restaurant was located near the Presidential palace so we waved hi to Sarkozy but not his beautiful wife Carla who Muriel loves to discuss, because she lives elsewhere very particular I see. We walked by fancy shmancy stores selling avant garde post modern dresses that resembled something Zenon might wear. and even as tore that sold perfume. Muriel ate it all uup so nice to see a French woman who loves her city and loves what it has to offer with exclamations of oh la la and C'est Magnifique. Photo ops on the Champs and metro hopping home.