Third Time Is Lucky

This is going to be the most boring piece of text you've ever encountered. Lay back, press the play button of the embedded melody and watch the pictures... the picture at the bottom of the post as well :)

How our friend Google Translator would say: third time is lucky. The third time I visited Paris was lucky indeed. I was always sure that I don't like Paris and the first two experiences confirmed my suspicions.

This time my dearest took me to a swimming pool where I scared all the kids away to use the water slide, uuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaa. I like it.. ONCE MORE!

Afterwards we went to Pere Lachaise Cemetery and visited good old friends Georges Enesco, Elvira Popesco, Balzac, Delacroix, Oscar Wilde, Maria Callas, Robert Oppenheimer(the name associated with the atomic bomb), few others as well :P.



In the afternoon we met Maria and her boyfriend at the top of Lafayette Galleries. There were few cozy hours: they had some coffee and I had a cake :D to go, we stayed on the stares of some church admiring the passers by, we had a look in the Apple Store at Louvre (couldn't visit the museum as it was closed already), then a walk in the park and plenty of pictures.

We splitted the roads at Place de la Concorde - they headed to Tour Eifel and we went straight to Montparnase hotel. Got to the top of it - 57 floors and the view was nice, as nice as the view of ciment buildings all the way to the horizon can be.

By the end of the evening we were entering into a Sushi restaurant. Sushi it is then! I was making a completly fool of myself, having no clue how to handle the chop sticks.


The next day we slept our brains out until afternoon, but we still had time for a coffee in the center, for a walk around National Galleries and for an exhibition at Petit Palais.

I can picture myself going there(to Paris) every few weekends for exhibitions, presentations, walkings in the parks, hearing French. Yep

I had lust of some Renoir, more exactly I was dying to see some Renoir. Did't get to see any, but I did see Cezanne and Coubert and it satisfied my needs.



Goustave Courbet - Le Sommeil, 1866
don't even try to think it's indecent, one should have seen our reaction when seeing Origin of the World, at Orsay, few years ago.

Time to come back to Romania: at the customs I got in trouble because of some marzipan that looked like an explosive device. I would have stayed there to eat it all than giving it away. In the plane the family next to me, he and she around 60, were playing spider solitaire on an iPadand they were giving advices to each other on how to play better. Meanwhile I was finishing the Diary of a Bad Year, by J. M. Coetzee (please do not read it Coitze, although it might be exactly how it should be read). This guy received Nobel Prize in Literature in 2003, but for a while he worked as a programmer, computer programmer to make it clear. Just wait to see me, time is not lost....

Coming back to work at the beginning of the week there was one thing deeply persisting in my mind:
"Je m'en fiche!"