(no subject)
So, I had my "beginning-of-the-week" in Paris, and I have still to come to terms with the concept.
Where the heck have the days from Wednesday to Saturday gone? O_O
I just remember a flurry of activity; typing and bickering with people, taking measurements and bickering with people, driving and bickering with people (at the phone in that case;) and missing twice the highway exit because I was focussed on the argument.
And it's not finished at all. Truth is, I can't see an end to overworking these days. But...
But there are these precious hours stolen between an emergency and the next.
There has been Paris.
I spent exactly 53 hours there, travels excluded. Approximately 12 of those hours were spent sleeping, 11 refining the lecture, 2 searching for some wire that nobody had ever heard of (I found it, yeah!), 3 working on other stuff, 2 waiting for Mr. Ihke and the rest (a total of 1380 precious minutes) visiting.
What I got:
* A chinese (!) umbrella. An ugly chinese umbrella, actually. The only one I was able to find in Paris XIV on a Sunday afternoon.
* The notion that drinks have become shockingly expensive in the Métropole (come on, 2.50 euro for a glass of water in the XIVème?!?)
* Dinner at the right kind of creperie.
* A quiet (albeit wet) stroll from St. Germain through the Quartier Latin, the Pont Neuf, straight through the Louvre to the pyramids (how I love the endless play of reflections of perfect human handiwork and perfect Paris skies through the symbols of geometrical perfection, I could spend hours there, just staring and musing and feeling dizzy, like in a displaced Stendhal's syndrome) and finally to the Orangerie (yayyy!!! for once in my life, it was open!)
* The view from the Tour Eiffel. On Tuesday I was alone, the sun was shining and I had just found out the Grand Palais was closed, so I thought -- WTF, just DO it, and went to the Eiffel tower. Stayed in the gardens for a while, looking at the huge queue to the lift and not really sure I wanted to play tourist to that extent. Then I made a decision and CLIMBED (wheezing half the way) to the first level, where I sat half an hour, trying to convince my body it was still alive :D
While resting and trying to look indifferent I found an automatic counter, probably placed there as a reward for the staggering valiant souls who have panted climbed their way up. So I reached the upper levels by lift, without wheezing at all.
Must remember: at times, the cautious distaste for tourist crowds one develops after living in a world famous town for years can become a hindrance and make them miss something enjoyable.
What I regret: being too shy and not asking duniazade about her restaurant (I've just read about Dicky's week-end and found out it is actually in Paris *le sigh*)
Where the heck have the days from Wednesday to Saturday gone? O_O
I just remember a flurry of activity; typing and bickering with people, taking measurements and bickering with people, driving and bickering with people (at the phone in that case;) and missing twice the highway exit because I was focussed on the argument.
And it's not finished at all. Truth is, I can't see an end to overworking these days. But...
But there are these precious hours stolen between an emergency and the next.
There has been Paris.
I spent exactly 53 hours there, travels excluded. Approximately 12 of those hours were spent sleeping, 11 refining the lecture, 2 searching for some wire that nobody had ever heard of (I found it, yeah!), 3 working on other stuff, 2 waiting for Mr. Ihke and the rest (a total of 1380 precious minutes) visiting.
What I got:
* A chinese (!) umbrella. An ugly chinese umbrella, actually. The only one I was able to find in Paris XIV on a Sunday afternoon.
* The notion that drinks have become shockingly expensive in the Métropole (come on, 2.50 euro for a glass of water in the XIVème?!?)
* Dinner at the right kind of creperie.
* A quiet (albeit wet) stroll from St. Germain through the Quartier Latin, the Pont Neuf, straight through the Louvre to the pyramids (how I love the endless play of reflections of perfect human handiwork and perfect Paris skies through the symbols of geometrical perfection, I could spend hours there, just staring and musing and feeling dizzy, like in a displaced Stendhal's syndrome) and finally to the Orangerie (yayyy!!! for once in my life, it was open!)
* The view from the Tour Eiffel. On Tuesday I was alone, the sun was shining and I had just found out the Grand Palais was closed, so I thought -- WTF, just DO it, and went to the Eiffel tower. Stayed in the gardens for a while, looking at the huge queue to the lift and not really sure I wanted to play tourist to that extent. Then I made a decision and CLIMBED (wheezing half the way) to the first level, where I sat half an hour, trying to convince my body it was still alive :D
While resting and trying to look indifferent I found an automatic counter, probably placed there as a reward for the staggering valiant souls who have panted climbed their way up. So I reached the upper levels by lift, without wheezing at all.
Must remember: at times, the cautious distaste for tourist crowds one develops after living in a world famous town for years can become a hindrance and make them miss something enjoyable.
What I regret: being too shy and not asking duniazade about her restaurant (I've just read about Dicky's week-end and found out it is actually in Paris *le sigh*)