Dear Random Stranger,

My chest is not public domain. Passing by you on the sidewalk is not an invitation for you to grab me. So, next time keep your paws to yourself, sicko, or you'll find your weak-sauce hind parts in the filth of the Parisian gutter.

Sincerely,

Sarah

You'd Be So Proud

Today on my way into the city center, I was quietly reading a book on the RER, and some random guy comes and sits across from me. It was weird, because here no one sits on the same row as someone else unless there is at least one person occupying every single row on the train. At this point I'm keeping a really close eye on my bag because I'm half expecting him to snatch it and run away at the next stop. But no. He turns to talk to me. He asks where I'm going, and I say, "To school."
"So, you're going to the St-Michel station?"
"Yes." (Getting creeped out and feeling slightly stalked.)

Then he says, “So, can we see each other again?” I figured I must have heard him wrong, so he has to repeat himself twice for me to realize that yes, I mostly understood, and that is in fact what he was getting at.

“Umm… no. That’s nice, but no.”
“Why?” (What the--? Isn’t “NO” enough?)
“Well, because I’m really busy.” (I almost said, “And because I said no, and that should be good enough.” But I didn’t.) (And also, because we never really SAW each other in the first place. You stalked me on the train. That's creepy.)
I turned back to my book. He stayed in the seat for about ten more seconds and then walked off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

Seriously, did he think I was going to melt at his feet? Lame, that’s what that is. Pure lameness.

But aren't you proud of me? I feel like I had a breakthrough.

The Catacombs of Paris

I went to the Catacombs on Saturday, and to my dismay, they were less interesting than I expected them to be.

Of course there were lots of bones... but I expected a little more information, I guess.

The entrance to the Catacombs of Paris is an unassuming-looking little green facade off of a busy roundabout. The wait is longer than what it seems like it should be looking at the line. I think they only allow a certain number of people in at a time, so the line moves more slowly than expected.

One you're inside, you pay your way and then go down a spiral staircase for what seems like forever. To the point that you start to get that kind of dizzy-nauseated feeling like you're in vertigo.

However, the bottom of the staircase comes, along with a couple of small rooms with some informational boards. These boards describe how the Catacombs were created when the smaller existing cemetaries posed a problem for city expansion, as well as significant health concerns (the cemetery which was formerly the biggest cemetery in Paris was causing myriad health problems among the neighboring citizens because of improperly buried bodies, mass graves, and the like).


So, bodies from several cemeteries were transferred to the catacombs and artfully (?) displayed. Not that I'm combaring it to the monastery in Rome where they made chandeliers and other designs out of peoples' bones.



There were also these random little pockets into the rock where these sculptures/carvings were done of buildings. Don't know what the buildings are. Reminds me of Petra, though. (Just the concept of a city being carved out of an existing expanse of rock--not that Petra actually looks like this.)

This is a well that allowed the workmen digging the tunnels and transferring the bodies to get to the ground water.

There were dozens of inscriptions like this throughout the catacombs. I enjoyed reading them--they brought a measure of hope to the otherwise depressing feel of the catacombs.

This one in particular reads: "Where is this Death? Always future or past. Just as it comes to be present, it already ceases to be." I thought that was kind of poetic.

Well, there you have it.

There's no institute this week, so my afternoons and evenings will all be free. I'm thinking I'll save later evenings for homework and get another museum pass this week. I can head to a different museum (or two, depending on their size) each day, and then use each afternoon to start making my way around the Louvre. We'll see.

Eeeeeeeew! Creepy Alert!

So, as it turns out I'm not taking EITHER apartment.


#1 rule of any online transaction = Google everything about everyone.


I Googled the username of the person I was getting ready to sign a contract with, and Google kindly led me to this:



If you can't actually read it clearly, it's some creepy guy looking for a WIFE! Ew! Ew! Ew! He also had a profile on some other grody website.


So, I'm going back to my original plan which is having all of my friends from Paris contact friends, family, ward members, and the institute president for available rooms or shared apartments.


Ew!! Need I say it again? Lesson Learned : If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.


Oh, and I also sent the creepy guy and e-mail telling him he was busted. :) Ick.