We’ve finally arrived, exhausted, in Paris. The packing experiment (all carry-on, all the time) seems to be working, but Greta and I both seem to have made the same mistake with our bags — too much weight too far away from our bodies. I feel like I’m going to tip over backwards every time I put my pack on. On our next flight, I’m going to sacrifice access to my books and put them at the bottom of the pack. We’ll see how that feels.
As you can see from this photo, right now we’re all just a bit dazed:
But it’s important for us to stay awake all day, so we went to the PanthÃ©on, where the heroes of the French Revolutions are buried. Rousseau, Voltaire, they’re all there. There’s also an impressive gaggle of French writers, including Victor Hugo, Alexander Dumas, and Ã‰mile Zola. Louis Braille is there, too, with the lone Braille label on his tomb:
The most amusing sight of the day was a bride getting photographed on the steps of the PanthÃ©on. She kept good-naturedly taunting all the “touristes” who were getting in the way of her shot.
But you’re not really in Paris until you’ve spotted the Eiffel Tower. Here was our first sighting, from the steps of the PanthÃ©on. Nora apparently thought it was amusing that I was trying to take a picture of her.
That’s all for now. I’ll have a (hopefully) more coherent post soon.