It has been 21 days since Paris: Episode 1, The Launch of an Overseas Recollection. I have seriously pondered and wondered what my random blurb of the long awaited and long anticipated (mainly by me)Episode 2 would and should be about? My indecisiveness has caused me great pains these past 21 days. Nights of deep sleep, nights requiring lots of chocolate, nights consuming my mind with multiple bottles of wine, nights where American Idol put me under a no-blogging spell, and nights of torture being forced to watch Heidi Montag's bad Botox lips jibber jabber about shallow nothings...and I have decided it is the most mgnificent time to pay tribute to my feet.
Yes. I said my feet. I have this strange quirk...one of many strange quirks. There is this very literal with a slight bit of sentimental sarcasm side of me that requires me to take pictures of my feet when I travel... or whenever I feel like documenting a special event or moment. I do not know if it is their rice patty squatting capabilities or their brown-yellow jaundice pigmentation that requires the camera to snap a recollection of their existence. It might be the massive big toe. If you want to verify the big toe, I have another post, "Remember To Take It Step By Step," that documents some special foot moments as well. This strange quirk of mine has been a part of my life for quite some time now. Again, everyone else thinks it (me) is strange or wierd and again, I do not care. I just keep on keepin on.
The first sighting of my feet in Paris is at Notre Dame. This photo was taken just outside the Hunchback's hopping grounds on what looks to be cobblestone. They were taking a bit of a rest after walking the grounds of worshippers, candles, tourists, stain-glass, and Jesus. Lots of Jesus. The were also blatantly avoiding all the beggars just outside the entrance and exit to the church. Is it wrong how obviously urgent my feet were scurrying away from the pretend needy people outside of a church? Hey, don't judge. Parisians have health and school...meaning college, paid for by the government. I have little sympathy. whew. They (my feet) were tired from all the avoiding. Luckily, I was forced to purchase brand new shoes from New Balance right before I left for this trip.
After the feet were rested up from all the Hunchbacking and Jesus-ing, they move on to the Eiffel Tower. Same day. No cool cobblestone to walk on, though. Way super tired feet so there was no climbing of the stairs to the top. These feet were swollen and tired inside their haven of New Balance cushion. They are greatly anticipating their departure for Belgium in a few hours also.
Belgium. My Aunt's house. I love my Aunt. She's great. She is shorter than me. (I am only 5ft. 1inch)! I am expecting a whole post about my Belgium trip to soon follow. My feet look pretty slim in these boots! Shocker!
Monmarte. I am pretty sure I have mentioned the stairs from Hell that lead to Monmarte. These feet belong to Bridget and me. They are pissed, they are exhausted, and they refuse to be rushed up another set of stairs without a standing with one hand on hip break.
Leaving Paris. Bridget and me putting our feet up as we wait to board our plane back to the U.S. It was a good trip, but boy was I glad to step on solid U.S ground.