I got distracted by my dog’s vagina (if I had a nickel for every time that’s happened, right?) but I’m back to sum up the final part of our week in Europe. If you missed the first two parts they’re here and here.
We took a train from London to Paris and went through the chunnel (the tunnel under the English channel) but it’s only cool in theory because it’s not made of glass so basically you’re just in the dark the whole time. Have you ever traveled with your eyes closed? That’s pretty much what the chunnel is like.
Also there was a lack of sasquatches:
We ate a lot.
The one thing I really wanted to do in Paris was to see the catacombs so we did that first just in case my anxiety hit and I had to miss everything else and it was amazing if for no other reason than this sign:
No eating. No flash photography. No molesting the corpses.
Also, we went visited a bunch of haunted places during our vacation because I’m a dorky ghost hunter but the only possible ghost picture we got the entire trip was in the catacombs and fucking Victor took it:
If you click on it you can see it larger. It sort of looks like the ghost is wearing high heels and skinny jeans but it’s Paris so I guess even the ghosts are fancier than us.
We went to the Paris Flea Market and I didn’t buy any of these things even though I really wanted to:
I was worried that the taxidermy would get stuck at customs but I did consider buying the girl mannequin. She’s LIFE-SIZED though and Victor refused to buy another plane ticket home and also she looked so real and unsettling that I was a little concerned that she was an actual demon.
We took our kid a show at the Moulin Rouge. There were a lot of nipples but she owns nipples so I think it was probably okay even though Victor kept whispering “YOU’RE A BAD MOM” every time someone took a top off. Also, the show was for “ages 7 and up” so things in Europe are a little different.
We took a boat ride down the Seine and I have a lot of beautiful pictures on instagram but this was a favorite:
We saw the Eiffel Tower and it was very bizarre because it’s one of those things that you don’t think really exists until you see it. We didn’t go inside because there was a line and it was expensive and I hate elevators and stairs, plus if you go to the top of the Eiffel Tower you can’t actually see the Eiffel Tower, so I’m not sure what the point it. But we ate crepes from a street vender outside and they were so good I screamed “ALL CLITORISES ARE BEAUTIFUL!” but only in my mind because my mouth was full. (Of crepes. Not clitorises.)
We wandered the streets and caught glimpses of the person our daughter is becoming:
And in the evening the light turned golden – literally – and I suddenly saw why they call it the City of Light.
I tried to find an empty space to see the sun but it just wasn’t possible, so I stood in the deep shadows of the streets and I looked up to watch the light creep in and touch the tips of the buildings. And I cried a little. Because for so many months it seems all I seemed to write about was the dark depression I was in…how I was looking for the light. And I found it. Maybe just glimpses, but sometimes that’s enough.
It was enough for me.
And I’ll keep these pictures to remind myself that there is always light coming, even if you can’t always see it.