I walked along the island that runs through the middle of the Seine for a fair distance. I was, in succession, surrounded by a mob of German tourists in backpacks, surrounded by a mob of French mothers pushing baby strollers, surrounded by a mob of Amerian tourists, and then, when I thought I was free of them, I walked right through a wedding-photo session. They were a very cute young couple, maybe 25, Asian, very sparkly in general; I couldn't figure out, though, why they were doing their wedding photos underneath a bridge. Later they drove by me in a giant black SUV piloted by two stern-looking old men. And then I ran up on the Statue of Liberty.
And crossed to the other side of the Seine and took a boat photo. Skye met a girl at one of her open mikes who lives on one of these boats; she apparently has stories about people coming to her parties, getting drunk, and falling in the Seine, which is probably the nastiest river to fall into, ever. At least it's not the Revolution and they're throwing corpses in it.
Printemps was perhap less successful than I'd have liked, but in addition to a headache I got these shoes. They are possibly the most ridiculous shoes I own. They're sold as "bath shoes," which probably just means that they're so shoddily made Printemps won't vouch for them holding up in anything but a shower. Oh well. Can we ignore how weird my feet look in this photo, and focus on how weird the shoes look in this photo?
Gosh they're bright. That's the imprint of my jeans in my leg from sitting on it funny, in case you're wondering why I look all wrinkly.
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