Magnetic force or red beacon?

Do you think these idiots graduated primary school and will understand if I yell Shut the $&@k up? We apparently have joined the party train to God knows where. Libby and I were destined for Edinburgh. In London, six 20 something beefed-up over grown boys joined our carriage for the trip north. The only saving grace among them was that one looked like DariusRucker-but even that didn't last more than a couple of hours. They were loud, obnoxious, drinking, lost, bored...boys. The entire carriage was quiet, except for these large watch wearing, over-sized biceped, short-statured, big-mouthed, champagne drinking, over-grown teens; whom just happened to sit right behind me, beside me, and in front of me.

 I was ever so thankful when they got off a mere three hours into our four hour journey.  However, a Hen party took their exact seats at the exact station. (A hen party is a bachelorette party.)  I must have some magically magnetic force for obnoxiously loud people to be drawn to me-or a red beacon pops out of the top of my head drawing them near. Just as icing on the top of this poop cake, the gentleman in front of us went to get his travel bag down from the overhead luggage rack and pulled Libby's clarinet case down on my head.  I needed to survive this train trip without Police involvement and it was proving to be a challenge.

It had been a quiet day Thursday in Paris.  Initially, I was concerned about spending the day alone.  The idea of walking around in a big city--any big city--is an anxiety provoking event.  The idea of being alone in Paris for two days did not have me anxious to get there.  In the end, Libby spent the day with me on Wednesday-at least the second half of the day.  The morning I spent getting to her for the concert her Uni band was giving in the Paris park.

 But Paris had other plans for us.  It was cool and misty in the morning.  The student led band opted to cancel the performance-I'm sure they wanted to have free-time more than they wanted to give the concert in the rain soaked park.  But I had come to Paris, and in fact had re arranged my plans to reach Paris in time, for the concert.  I was disappointed.  When Libby and I were able to communicate once we both had wifi again, we discovered I was at her hostel and she was only blocks from my hotel-on opposite ends of Paris.  C'est la vie.  We arranged to meet a friend of hers studying economics in Paris, at Musee D'Orsay and finished the afternoon with Van Gogh.  Musee D'Orsay is wonderful.

Later in the evening Libby and I ended up, in the rain, by Norte Dame.  This is by far my favorite area of Paris.  I love the book sellers.  The rain, though, ensured that they weren't open.  I was crest-fallen but there was still tomorrow.  Norte Dame in the evening is beautiful.  It doesn't matter if it is raining or not.  It is beautiful. After a prix fix three course dinner with Norte Dame as the backdrop, Libby went back to her hostel and I went back to my hotel.  I was worn out and intended to sleep well. 

If you've even glanced at a map of Paris, you'll know that it is not built on a grid system.  It is built on a system of snail trails or something else as arbitrary. So, before setting out on our respective journeys we looked at our rain sodden map to plot our path. Needless to say, I zagged when I should have zigged, crossed the street to the wrong side, found the back of a church (also known as a homeless mans shelter), and ended up coming up on my hotel from the opposite direction than my plan.  But I made it. 

The next morning, I awoke to not just a gray drizzle drab day but, as Libby said, it was "chucking it down."  It was simply POURING buckets.  And it was cold. It was the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays for days. But I was going to conquer the "alone in Paris" day, even if it was a horrible dreary day.  So I set off with a plan. 1) go to Ste. Chapelle and 2) go to Musee D' Orangerie. I got nearly to Ste Chapelle when I stopped for coffee.  It was just too cold to go any further without reinforcement and sustenance. 

The line to Ste. Chapelle is usually quite long.  I was hopeful that is would be somewhat shorter because it was raining, or "chucking it."  It was an hour of standing in line, which is somewhat shorter than normal.  But also perfectly timed, because the building closes from 1-2:15 but doesn't throw anyone out.  So I got in just before it closed for the mid day break and at some points had the budding mostly to myself.  

Ste. Chapelle was built by Saint Louis (then King Louis IX) to house the Christian relics of the Passion of Christ, including the crown of thorns, which made the King very powerful. The Ste. Chapelle was built in 1242 and it took just 7 years. It includes 1113 stained glass windows that depict stories from the Old and New Testament.

It was connected initially to the Palais de la Cité (City Palace) which now serves as the Supreme Court building or Palace of Justice.  The King eventually moved to the Louvre and Versailles, but Ste. Chapelle and the conciergerie (prison) remained. During the French Revolution, many people were detained, tried and convicted at the conciergerie including Marie Antoinette. 

When I left the conciergerie it was still chucking it, so I walked back to my hotel, hung my desperately wet everything in the bathroom to dry and climbed into bed to warm up and nap, as one can only do on a soaking Parisian day. The Musee D' Orangerie will have to wait until the next visit.  The thing I wanted to see was the Monet water lilies and they had just been in Kansas City, so the rest can wait. 

Now, we are in Edinburgh and I have seen the sun. I have also had tea and gin.

Both of these make me a much more pleasant traveler.  We are staying on the Royal Mile which sits at the top of a rather dubiously high hill. This made reaching our flat from the train station an exercise similar to climbing Mount Everest. With a suitcase.  

Once installed in our flat, it is a very nice location, close to everything. Today we walked around the city, shopping in the grass market which has small boutique shops of Scottish made items and artisan foods, stopped by the old book sellers where I found two adorable books printed in the early 1900's, and on to Prince's street which is the "rodeo drive" of Edinburgh.  

We saw Edinburgh castle from multiple vantage points as it sits at the top of the Royal Mile, and on the way home we stopped at St. Giles church.  

It was a full day, and I managed to trip only four or five times but never to fall!  And no Police were involved in my travels-so far.