Problems in Paris

The dinner cruise didn't work out. We dressed up, headed there, and along the way it started to rain. Then rain turned to pouring rain. We paid for our tour and then promptly requested a refund. Crazy Americans, always changing their minds. We headed instead to a little Italian restaurant for dinner--yes, we're headed to Italy next. Our waitress was a sweet Texan who had great patience with us.

We headed to the Eiffel Tower for a view of the City of Lights at night. On the way, we ran into Casey and Adam on the Rue du Rivoli. Even with more than 2 million people living in the city center and gobs of tourists, we find our friends. We've taken an insane number of pictures of and in front of the Eiffel Tower. Examples:

La Tour at night

View from the top

Champion

Mom and Dad were once again a half hour late to meet us downstairs, sauntering in at 9:30 a.m. My dad had a long look on his face when he came downstairs. We'd missed our train. We thought it left at 2:15 p.m. That was our connecting train from Milan to Venice. The train to Milan left at 8 a.m. As Mike would say, "Sorry bout ya luck."

So we had some time to kill. We went to Notre Dame. Really no trip to Paris would be complete without a trip to the beautiful Gothic cathedral.

Notre Dame

Notre Dame, interior

On the way to see another cathedral, Mom busted. She didn't notice the uneven pavement and ended up sprawled out on the ground. She twisted her ankle a little bit, but was otherwise okay. Hopefully with ice and Ibuprofen, she'll be alright. Mike, Amy and I went for a little dessert this afternoon while the invalid elevated her ankle.

Yummy ice cream and the fat boy

Here's a little visual of the Taylors in Paris so far: Walking down the sidewalk, the troupe looks like this--Amy and Mike walking fast up ahead. Amy leads confidently, but often doesn't know where she's going. Sometimes they do little jumps or walk like chickens, just because they enjoy each other. I'm in the middle, the only one who tries to know where we're going. As the tour guide, I usually get us there but I'm the one we blame when we miss the street. Mom and Dad bring up the rear, usually hand in hand. Mom trips along, enjoying gay Paris (Par-ee) and basically feeling very French. Dad steadies her, making fewer American jokes each day.

Hope you're all doing well. Thanks for the comments thus far, we're enjoying hearing from you. We'll see you in Italy, if we make it. Ciao.