My first week in Paris ended as it should have began: with my husband.
I picked him up from the airport on Friday morning, and in an attempt to keep him awake until at least 9.00 that evening (he had, after all, taken two red-eye flights in a row. One from Vegas to Providence, then the same day from Providence to Paris), we decided to head to the Arch of Triumph and the Champs-Elysees.
We spent much of the late afternoon wandering around the arch, admiring its handiwork, climbing its absolutely dizzying staircase to the top, and admiring the incredible panaromic views of the city. It was, in short, breathtaking.
We decended onto the Champs-Elysees, where I must admit we were not very interested. Neither of us like to shop, and even the twice yearly 40-60% off sales (they just started) wasn't enough to lure us in. But the walk down it towards the Louvre is beautiful. After walking the park and admiring the splendor that is the former Royal Palace (but don't even get me started on the hideous glass pyramid), it was only 6.30 pm.
We went back to our neighborhood (the Bastille), and found a restaurant that was open but not yet serving dinner (most places don't start until after 7.00). Herman had to walk outside multiple times before our food arrived, just to stay awake, then somehow managed to eat his meal on autopilot. It was painful for me to watch.
We made it home where he crashed for the next 15 (not even joking) hours.
Unfortunately, I spent that night awake with a severe sore throat, and have spent a very beautiful weekend holed up in our studio apartment trying to sleep off a nasty cold. But our photography professor is giving us tomorrow off for MLK day, so hopefully I'll feel strong enough to go exploring.