Paris is a nice city to celebrate an anniversary in.

Dragging a high functioning autistic teenager who does. not. like. to. be. touched. by. ANYONE. including. his. mother through the Metro at rush hour is no fun for anyone, least of all him. He didn't melt down, but was not a happy camper.

Paris is not gimp friendly -- there are few if any lifts in the Metro, e.g.

Paris in the summer is MUGGY. And has mosquitos the size of hummingbirds. It is still, however, PARIS.

Going to the Eiffel Tower when you are exhausted is a bad idea because it means your fibro will flare up and make it hard to walk around the next day. Which means you need to get people to believe you, and not give in simply because they wheedled/nagged you enough.

I still love the Orsay more than the Louvre. I liked the Mona Lisa better than the first time I saw her, and the Venus de Milo seemed smaller than I remembered. And how did I miss the Code of Hammurabi and the winged bulls last time, not to mention the copper swords? Oh, right, I wasn't with kids who were interested in those things.

Going to art museums with your kids can be fun -- especially snarky seventeen-year-olds who do not believe in sacred cows. ("What a brat!" was his comment on Degas's "Ballet Dancer." "You can tell just by looking at her.")

The HFA kid seemed bored and fretful by most of the Louvre, and I despaired of the Orsay, which has no neat non-art objects in it. He seemed entranced by Impressionism, however, and was irritated a bit at being hurried along (we arrived late, and only had a little time, and I wanted to be sure they saw some of the most famous paintings.)

All of the kids are eager to see the Rijksmuseum when we get to Amsterdam. And the Van Gogh Museum. Clearly, I am doing something right here.

There are worse ways to celebrate Independence Day than visiting Omaha Beach. And having discussions with aforementioned seventeen year old about the nature of sacrifice and patriotism.

Viewing the Bayeux Tapestry, one is reminded once again how really literate "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" is.

DInner in Honfluer was me asking for the item on the menu identified as "a local specialty" without knowing what it was. Go me. Especially as it turned out to be a really lovely variant of cottage pie* with slices of marvelously spiced beef in a mashed potato crust.

Tonight is Bruges, with a sick eleven year old (hopefully it's just a migraine, and the vomiting is now over) and tomorrow evening, God willing, Amsterdam.

Tomorrow morning and early afternoon? Chocolate and beer.** And many pommes frites.***

Works for me.



* See, [livejournal.com profile] klwalton, I called it by its proper name.
**And laundry. But the less said about that, the better.
*** The Belgians make the best frites in all the world -- why do they not call them Belgian Fries?
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