The end always comes to soon

My final morning of possibilities in Paris started much the same. The weather was overcast and cold but I didn't feel it. With my snazzy new tourist hat on, I was warm and ready for my river boat shuttle.

We had both agreed that our feet needed some help so we bought tickets for the river shuttle and cruised down the Seine like the tourists we were. The entire boat was encased in glass so we were well protected from rain and wind. Starting from the Eiffel (yes I snapped 30 more pictures as we walked by her) the shuttle took us down river, stopping at Museum d'Orsay (where extensive lines had us continuing on our way) I wanted to see the art inside but didn't want to waste precious hours waiting in lines. Sadly, we will have to return for a view of the inside of this museum.

We walked down toward the Alexander III bridge, one of the most beautiful sites in Paris in my humble opinion. A gift from Russia to France, this bridge is difficult to photograph and really capture the grandeur and over-the-top artistry. Pointless to even try but valiantly I tried anyway to photograph it.

The sculptures, the gold work, the sheer size of this bridge is baffeling to the mind, even when you are standing on it, walking across it. Who sees bridges like this? And who gives bridges as a gift? Can't find that perfect gift for the special someone in your life? For the man who has everything, how about a bridge?

Really, who but the French give gifts of that magnitude. We didn't know what to do with the Statue of Liberty so we built her a whole island. This bridge, people who live here just cross it, every day. Cars and pedestrians alike. I walk slowly across, stopping every three seconds to snap another shot. Pointing to Dennis and waving my arms like a fool, "Look at that!, Look over there!" We just don't have anything like this at home.

We don't see structures that are living works of art like this. What Americans do with steak and shopping centers, fields of corn and the Grand Canyon, the French do with steel and stone. marble and granite. Bigger, more, greater.

Back on the river shuttle, we made our way to Notre Dame. The most massive and ornate church imaginable. Not particularly beautiful but darkly looming on the horizon. The clouds happened to be framing it exactly like a gothic novel would describe, mysterious and fear inspiring.

Almost daring us to enter, to walk across it's imagined holy floors. Inside we saw countless tombs of Paris' mighty religious men enshrined, almost completely obscuring the "god" they profess to adore and serve. Endless painting of suffering humans and a ever luminous Mary serene yet aloof, watching everything but never lifting her finger to help any of those begging for her mercy. She seems almost to smile at the penitent masses.  For a few euros you could buy a candle to light to any saint you wanted. To finish the whole scene, a nun was stationed at the exit with a cup full of coins, begging. Someone had been thoughtful enough to provide for her comfort with a folding chair.

Once breathing the free and un-hypocritical air outside again, we strolled across the street and found our way into gift shops and a bar were we warmed up with mulled wine. As it turned out, we were now in the Latin Quarter of town, with restaurants, shops and something happening on every corner and down every street. Movement and light everywhere.

We walked back through those streets, with the sun setting through the cloud streaked skies and made our way back down to the river once more. Up the other side toward the Louvre and onward to Madame Eiffel.  We disembarked at our place of origin and walked to our hotel, passing once more under the magical lights of Paris all around us.

Now... where would we have dinner on our last night in the City of Love?