Day 6- Driving Rain and McDonalds

The day started later than usual with the pounding of rain against the apartment window.  Serene and hypnotic, the tapping of rain against the glass was a perfect excuse to sleep in and relax after enjoying so much of this beautiful city.  As i lay snug and warm in bed, i closed up my elbow ever so slightly to tighten my grip on my wife as she, still asleep, curled up her feet and pressed her head into my chest.  Similarly, i pulled in my son on my other side, firmly but slowly, i dragged him in closer to me at a rate slow enough so as not to awaken the mighty beast.  A small quiver was quickly subdued by jamming the pacifier into his mouth and holding it there like it was chloroform.  Once the fear had subsided, i exhaled a breath of relief.  'This is my clan' i thought to myself as i satisfied a fleeting self indulgent moment of megalomania.

As i lay in pure man-ly bliss, surrounded by my family, i prepared to drift off into pleasant dreams of my rightful place in the halls of Valhalla, riding on fire breathing dragons,  turning down the advances of beautiful scantily-clad women, fighting evil with a samurai sword ...and shaving.  As i slowly closed my eyes, my happy thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud and familiar roar which came from the street below.  'SOLOMOOOOONNN!' SOLOMOOOOON!'. In a flash, the baby was screaming, the wife disappeared and all the blankets were missing.  I sat in the cold a little longer, with Solomon screaming into my inner ear as i mulled over the taste of bitter defeat.

My parents were calling out from the street below in a bid to have Solomon appear in the window with his hands extended out like a dictator.  The people in the street around them thought they had lost someone and were about to start helping them look, so i let them into the apartment.  We stayed a little while in the apartment on account of the heavy rain whilst my mother sat in the apartment window finishing her french breakfast.

In a flash, the weather turned from driving rain turned into a 30degree day and we left to find a restaurant i have been craving since we arrived- Mcdonalds.  On the way we found a really cute little baby boutique store and bought Solomon a french hat and some unique clothes.  After the brief shopping, i powered ahead eager and excited to eat some decent greasy food to wash down all the fois gras and escargot.  Though we did not know the exact location of McDonalds, we were hoping an establishment could not be too far away, as in Sydney there is one on every block.  As we wandered the streets we came across a games shop which stocked a variety of different Chess pieces.  Very excited, i rushed in for a look and bought some awesome ceramic, hand painted chess figurines which were likened to two different warring medieval armies.  They were awesome and i was very pleased with my rather expensive purchase.

Whilst the family was hot on my heels for the first stretch, their hunger seemed to manifest into audible groaning as they began dragging their feet and for a moment, i thought i was in Resident Evil.  Shaking it off, i decided to inspire them with a modified to suit version of the famous speech from the movie Any Given Sunday.  "life is about inches, and every inch, we get closer to holding a Big Mac".  My speech must have worked, because my mum, filled with a sudden inspiration, shot up and proclaimed she knew the exact direction and she took off faster than we could ask any questions.  Arms swinging full pelt and head leaned forward with such firm direction, our hopes were renewed, and we jogged after her up the only hill in Paris which also just so happened to run in a North-South orientation which meant the sun could beam down on us unabated.  With the incredibly strong sun on our brows, trying its best to break our spirits, we powered up the hill, sweat streaming down from every dark corner of our bodies.  When we got to the top, we all looked, dependently, toward my mum for a new heading.  In a brisk and sudden movement, she raised her head and we held our breathes as she spoke- She turned to me, slightly puzzled, and proclaimed 'where are we going? whose idea was this?'.  After a few minutes of bitter fighting and argument, the hunger getting the better of us, i was more determined than ever to eat my Big Mac.  I quashed the arguments and again, performed my Any Given Sunday speech.  However, before i could move in a direction, my dad called out, with renewed invigoration that he knew the way.  He put Solomon on his shoulders and marched down another street.  At least this time, the street was down hill and in the shade.  With our hopes quickly fading and our strength sapping from hunger, we followed the head of our family. After walking a while down the hill, we passed underneath a dark alcove, through a small tunnel and, i swear to god, we were back at the apartment.

As the group erupted into hunger fueled argument yet again, i did something i haven't done in at least a year. I cried.  We walked over to the nearest french brasserie and sat down for some breakfast- it was 3pm.

After lunch, Bec and I ducked over the balcony and fled, as quick as we could, into the Paris city scape, leaving my parents to take care of Solomon.  We enjoyed the rest of the day leisurely strolling and shopping along the boulevard St Germain De Pres.  We stopped at Abbey Bookshop which is a famous second hand and brand new bookshop where we purchased a few more interesting reads for our book collection, including an old, very well illustrated, children's fairy tale book.  As we hit the main strip, we realised this wasn't shopping like New York, in Paris things are generally a lot more expensive but you can find things that are absolutely beautiful and very good quality.  I was very pleased with a very elegant and gentlemanly sports coat, with a pocket watch pocket- which.i.will.use!  Though the women's attire was incredibly beautiful, poor Bec was resigned to buying some maternity tops which i accidentally thought were the shops curtains.  Women really do have it tough with this child bearing burden.

After a decent few hours of shopping, we headed back to our apartment.  When we arrived we saw my mum in the exact same pose as the morning, enjoying another french breakfast and my dad was huddled over a table of my shattered chess pieces.  I ran into the room and checked on the boy, sleeping peacefully, i could get over the chess pieces.  To his credit, my dad sat there for hours and actually repaired and re-glued the entire set, however some of them were a little disabled with angled feet and missing toes- i guess i will need to find a chess board with ramps.

Completely sick of all the french brasseries, i headed off to a local vietnamese restaurant for some takeaway dinner.  I walked into a shop which was about 6 square meters and had 4 eat-in tables.  I was barely able to squeeze my way to the counter bumping all the patrons and putting my whole hand into someones Pho.  As i commenced my order of quite a few dishes which sounded amazing, the cook stuck her head out of the serving window to see if i was ordering for an army.  With eyes wide open, she stared at me and said something in french to the server.  Before i could get offended, i had a look in the kitchen and got a good look at the cook.  She was about 300 years old and 3 feet tall, my order was going to stretch the limitations of her physical abilities.  She gathered the ingredients around her kitchen with old quivering hands at the speed of a dead turtle...with parkinsons.  At one point in time, she actually froze for long enough that i thought she had died, she must have just been re-booting.  I went outside to save myself the agony of watching the cook any longer.

Whilst leaning on the wall outside, i was approached by three guys who asked me, in a thick Aussie accent, if i speak English.  Delighted at the sight of my countrymen i proclaimed that i did.  Ready to engage into conversation about France, Paris and travel, the gentlemen promptly asked me if i had any Cocaine.  Why is it i get asked for Cocaine on every holiday?  However, since my experience in New York with the large black drug dealer, i was more than prepared for these three stooges.  I told them i didnt have any cocaine and they all erupted into a deep philosophical discussion about how i was definitely not Australian because i had a thick English accent.  They then proceeded to yell out to people in the street asking anyone for cocaine and swearing at people in english when they were refused.  However, ashamed and fed up, it wasnt until they started talking about NRL that i decided to leave their company.  I have traveled much too far to entertain any subject relating to that stupid game- ye i said it- STOOOOPID.  Hanging out with drug using, obnoxious, loud and drunk people, but its the NRL talk that breaks the camels back.

I went back inside the vietnamese restaurant hoping my order would be ready.  After a few more re-boots, the food was ready and i left for home where we were incredibly satisfied with the fresh tasty and saucy Vietnamese food and soup.