Glutton For Punishment If Punishment Equals Food

Can't...Stop...Eating. It doesn't even matter if I'm hungry. Cheese, bread, wine, chocolate...I must have it all.

So first of all, yeah me for writing this tonight and not tomorrow. If any of you read the previous blog, I finally got some pictures posted, including the boots. I almost can't bring myself to do it--buy them. They are for sale at Esprit and I even went to the website to see if I could get them for cheap and they weren't even listed. And I checked shoes.com and overstock.com. I really shouldn't though....

We went to Versailles today. Don't know much else about the city but the Chateau. It's kind of like Ann Arbor, MI or the place where Mt. Rushmore is. It's someone's town, people live there, but it seems as if the monument sucks up the whole town and you can't get around it. So the line to get tickets was about an hour and 10 minutes long and the line to get into the palace (after you'd been on the ticket line) was 40 minutes long. So that in itself was a friggin' nightmare. But I did get to finish Wicked while I was waiting. Good book, not what I was expecting. I guess since they've turned it into a musical I was looking for some more light-hearted areas. The book is generally pretty dark. But I would definitely recommend it.

So we went through the Palace and then we walked around the gardens a little bit. By the time we'd finished with the lines--there was a nice long one to the bathroom too (And two ladies tried to convince the female bathroom attendant to let them use the men's room. If that had happened there surely would have been a riot by all the women who had been waiting in line.) and made our way back to Paris, the whole trip had taken about 6 hours, half of which had been spent getting to and from the palace and in waiting in lines. But we had really good weather so it wasn't too bad being outside and the gardens were nice.

Whenever I am traveling it is always weird to hear another American accent. There were a couple of teenage girls in front of us in line--discussing the relative merits of the Twilight series--apparently Bella gets all whiny and clingy after the first book. And there was a group of about 4 middle-aged women in line behind when we took a food break. And our accent just sounds so weird to me when I'm away. I don't notice it at all when I'm home really, but when I'm abroad it just sticks out. It could be that romance languages to me seem to be very flow-y

--words running into each other and musical and English, by comparison sounds so staccato. At least in the sense that I can distinguish between words.

So, maybe it's just me, but why is it that people feel it is necessary to be in their own vacation pictures? Isn't the fact that you have the picture proof enough that you were there? Do you really need to stand in front of the painting/sculpture/monument that about 50 people would like to take a picture of--without you in it--for a minute while your dingus traveling companion figures out how to focus the retardedly expensive digital camera you have? I don't know, I don't like to take pictures all that much. I think every picture I ever took in college had me sticking my tongue out or picking my nose so that I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I looked good in the picture--of course I didn't, I was making a ridiculous face... Anyway, when I take pictures of things, I want to see it, not myself and not someone else. Any person in the picture isn't the most attractive thing there and they are essentially blocking part of the thing you really want the picture of.

After we got back we went to Monoprix again and got some more wine and cheese. Don't know what's on the agenda for tomorrow. Maybe a museum, maybe just some shopping. We leave tomorrow night for Barcelona. Ole!

Some stats from today...

Number of steps according to my pedometer 17887

Number of days left (not counting the day we fly home) 6

Number of glasses of wine 4