Maybe I'll do a travel log...

So, apparently when I said I wasn’t going to write in my blog while I was away I lied.

I think I’m going to use it as a kind of travel journal. This will all depend on how much time and/or energy I have of course. So, who knows, maybe the journal will just be this one post.

My plan is to post some photos too if John lets me use the camera.

So, today…

We arrived this morning, yep our plane, that actually did manage to make it out of Toronto, despite the horrible snow. I won’t bore you with tedious details of the flight. It was like all cross Atlantic flights. Long, cramped, stuffy. Although, on the way out I did steal (shhhh, don’t tell anyone) an unopened courtesy pack from first class that someone had left behind.

Anyway, we got to the apartment and there were no keys. And no mum and Mark. So we got into the main part of the apartment and I left John to guard the luggage (and rest) while I went in search of a phone card (payphones here don’t take such primitive things as coins), but the only tabac I found was a tabac/bar combo and was stuffed to the gills with old French men chain smoking. Seriously, not one woman in sight. So, I did as any yellow bellied lily livered young woman would do, I turned and walked the other way, continuing my search for somewhere else. Unfortunately, that wasn’t so fruitful and in the end I was in the first tabac with a million guys, although there was now one woman, behind the counter. I got the card, found a payphone and proceeded to try and call mum’s cell phone. Apparently I am not skilled in the use of telephones. Well, not French ones anyway. It took me a million tries (well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but only slight mind you.) and I finally figured out that I didn’t have to dial the 33, ‘cause I was already in France, so yeah, the country code, not so necessary (but hey, gimme a break, I hadn’t slept much in the previous 24 hours). In the end I got hold of mum, who was just around the corner, we met up, got into the apartment and all was golden.

Then mum and I went out to buy food, figuring not much will be open Christmas day so we’d better get our asses in gear and get some food in the fridge. We went to a lovely café for lunch, where some very loud old drunk Frenchman professed his love for Canadians. At length. Then after a brief reprieve, he started again. Still very loud. And again at length. Oh, and he was slurring (see previous comment regarding blotto state of being), which meant that his very loud very long diatribes were also very hard to understand. Lunch was delicious. John was in the apartment sleeping while all this was going on.

We got back to the apartment and John and I traded places and I slept. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tonight, we went wandering.

Part of our wandering took us to Notre Dame. We decided to go inside. On Christmas Eve. I know this is going to surprise everyone very much, but apparently a catholic church is a popular place on Christmas Eve. Okay, so no one is very surprised by that, but what did surprise me was that you had to go through a metal detector and then run the gauntlet through several (very hansom) security guards to get anywhere near the church itself. I kid you not. A metal detector. Now, to be fair, everyone was setting off the metal detector and they weren’t stopping anyone from going in, so my guess is it was meant to be a visual deterrent and that’s about it, but still. I mean, a metal detector to get into a church?

Inside was amazing. You couldn’t see much, it was packed and there was a Christmas Eve mass going on, which was really bloody cool. I’m not religious or anything, but I am a theatre grad and lover, so I have a great appreciation for the proceedings, simply as theatre. And then the choir sang. It was wonderful. They echoed through the whole place, you could feel it in your body.

So, that’s day one. Stay tuned, who knows, maybe I’ll keep writing…