Day 31: Paris

Friday, September 13

Amanda and i were in Paris together, once, 11 years ago. We only had two days, and we spent a lot of our time walking back and forth between tourism offices trying to find a thing that turned out not to exist at the time, and nowadays is as simple as downloading an app. I went back through my log of that day to figure out what we had actually seen, and made a list of the points of interest. Today, our 21st anniversary, i was just going to revisit memories. And then go see a weird movie.
    I stepped out of the hostel and took a moment to appreciate the wolf howling at the moon again. I still cannot believe that exists here, and that i ended up staying across the street from it, by pure chance. It feels like she led me here.
    I found two more pieces of wolf art on the walls as i walked toward the metro station.
    Oh. Look at that. There's also a post office right across from the hostel.
    I wasn't heading anywhere on the metro quite yet, i was planning to walk around for a bit. I was just looking ahead to the end of my day, when i knew i would have a short timeframe to traverse a great distance, and would need to have metro tickets handy. The Paris metro is not as convenient as the other cities i've been to. I would need to paper tickets, and i've already seen long lines at the automated ticket kiosks and manned counters in the stations i've been in. I bought six, to be prepared.
    Soon after, i ended up in a boulangerie, looking for breakfast. From learning French on Duolingo these last few years, you'd think that the French just go into bakeries and buy bread all day, every day.
    There are, in fact, six boulangeries in the block between the hostel and the metro station.
    As i was inspecting the goods on display, the clerk approached on the other side of the counter and greeted me in French, continuing to say several sentences with the rapid-fire delivery of a fluent person.
    Time to try out some of what i've learned.
    I was about to pop out my rehearsed opening, but it was taking me a few seconds and i must have looked really lost. "Do you know what you want to order? English is fine." I hadn't even told her English was my language. I think it's just assumed across Europe that, no matter your mother tongue, most people speak English as a second language. We ended up joking around a bit as i was figuring out my food order, and again when i finished eating. I left the boulangerie laughing.
    I got a salmon panini and a bottle of strawberry juice. It was delightful.
    Since it was pretty close to the hostel, i started off by walking over to the Père-Lachaise Cemetery.
    11 years ago, we'd gone here simply because i wanted to pay a visit to Jim Morrison, of the band The Doors. Their music had been important to me as a teenager, so it felt like a thing to do. We had ended up spending half the day walking around and admiring the artistry of the monuments and mausoleums. It was better than most art museums, frankly. That day, we had also searched out Frédéric Chopin, Oscar Wild, and Édith Piaf. I'd discovered a day later, looking back at the photo of the cemetery map Amanda had taken, that we'd missed Georges Méliès. We always said we'd come back to Paris someday, make a dedicated trip of just France, or even just Paris, after we'd both learned the language.
    Mostly i was here to relive a core memory with Amanda, yes, but also i wanted to rectify that mistake. I came in through a side entrance this time, which fortunately also had a map posted. Méliès was on the complete opposite side of the cemetery.
    In other words, it would be super easy, barely an inconvenience, to check in on Morrison and see what the Lizard King has been up to these last 11 years. Decomposing, i bet.
    The cemetery was a bit busier today than it had been last time, i think. Morrison's grave had half a dozen mourners standing in the way when i got there. It's not the most convenient to reach; the grave itself is actually blocked off, so you can't get close, and the viewing area is tiny, with only one way in and out, and there's a huge tree growing out of it. The tree was wrapped in thin wooden garden fencing, which had been completely covered by used chewing gum. I don't remember seeing this last time. Is used chewing gum a Doors thing? Why is this like this?
    I tried to wait out the crowd before getting a selfie, but for every person that left, another came to take their place. I tried to be patient, but i really didn't want to end up burning half my day here again. I had wanted to get a short video clip, maybe say some words, but i cut my losses. I just slipped in as close as i could get, took my selfie for the 'Gram, and left.
    That's Instagram, not Grandma. In the context of Jim Morrison, i realized after i typed it that the phrasing there could be confusing.
    There were so many old Boomer men crying at Morrison's grave. I mean...really? I can't imagine crying over a celebrity at all, much less one who's already been dead for half a century, no matter how deeply their art touched me. And especially from a generation of men who are stereotypically emotionally unavailable, even to their partners.
    I don't know, man. I shouldn't judge. I've been crying in a lot of public places this last year, and if strangers saw me, devoid of context, they'd probably make some snap assumptions, too, with varying degrees of correctness. Maybe they're widows too, who met their late spouses at Monterey Pop, or something.
    On the way to Méliès's grave, i saw an active burial taking place, with the whole funeral party there. This may be the most famous cemetery in the world, and i guess i always think of it as a historical place. Seeing it as active and still growing just breaks my expectations a bit, i guess. Reshapes reality.
    I'm glad i got to see Méliès this time. He was a film director in the early early early days, around the turn of the twentieth century. The grandfather of compositing. He was the first filmmaker to take two moving images and splice them into one. If you're totally unfamiliar, the most common example of compositing would be green screen. If you saw the Martin Scorcese movie Hugo (2011), this is that guy. His most famous film is the one where the rocket ship shoots the moon in the eye, A Trip To The Moon (1902), you've definitely seen at least that clip.
    I was going to leave Père-Lachaise after this, but i figured, what the hell. I just visited Chopin's heart in Warsaw. I know i've been to the rest of his body before, but i may as well see the complete picture while i'm here.
    Again, there were several people at the grave when i got there. There had been no one in Méliès's entire section of the cemetery. Kind of sad that he doesn't have the name recognition that Chopin does, he did as much or more to lay the foundations of modern filmmaking as Chopin did for music.
    And again, i tried to wait them out, and i was almost successful, too, but as the last couple were moving off, another couple approached, and were really obnoxious about it. This was an American couple, in, i assume, their 50s. The wife noticed that someone had left a Polish flag on the grave, and loudly announced to her uninterested husband how cool that was, because he was Polish. She then removed the flag and demanded her husband take a picture of her holding it in front of the grave. As she was putting it back, badly, the husband tried to move on, but she kept taking pictures. She climbed up the incline on the side to get close to the angel statue on top, and as i watched, took literally at least 20 close-up pictures of the angel from every conceivable angle. Her husband was ten graves away by now.
    As soon as she was done and finally left, a tourist group of about eight arrived.
    Inside, i am screaming. I did as i had done with Morrison, got a quick selfie, and left. I had planned to do a video saying something about his heart.
    I did see a cat up by Chopin's grave, though; i had just been thinking on the walk between Méliès and Chopin that, last time, we had noted how many cats were in the cemetery, making their homes in the mausoleums with broken doors, and i hadn't seen any yet.
    I could leave the cemetery now, but i had noticed on Google Maps one grave marked as "Tombe de Dragon," and i was curious about that, so i headed over there.
    Maps led me astray a bit, but i did eventually find it. "Dragon," it turns out, was a rank in the French military centuries ago. I think this is one of those Tomb of the Unknown Soldier situations, but i'm not 100% sure; i said at the time that i'd look it up later and i haven't done that yet. Signal in the cemetery was pretty bad. What's interesting is, this was the very first grave placed in Père-Lachaise.
    Finally, i was on my way.
    I wanted to go to l'Arc de Triomphe, and recreate the iconic photo of Amanda and i witih the Eiffel Tower in the background, which we used for everything, including our wedding invitations, for years after we took it. This was a thing i really wanted to do today, specifically, for our anniversary. For as loose as i've been with planning and doing things on this trip, today was the day that i knew what i was doing, most of the steps of the way.
    First use of the Paris metro. Kind of confusing, signs are not intuitive down there. As i was trying to exit, i ran face first into a gate, because i didn't know you have to re-scan the ticket to get out. I've never been in a subway that required a ticket to exit, that just seems silly.
    I came up the stairs from the underground across the roundabout from l'Arc de Triomphe, and saw a metal fence and security guards. The roundabout was empty. On our previous trip, we'd dubbed this the Roundabout of Death, because it's eight lanes wide and filled with cars honking at each other and moving erratically. Empty. Except for an unmarked black semi truck. The fencing went all the way around the outside of the roundabout. On the inside, a tall, black fence had been erected around the Arc itself. From inside said fence emanated the sounds of someone singing through a PA system. Rehearsing.

    I checked the internet. The Arc's official web site seemed to be selling tickets for guided tours today; it looked like it should be open?
    I went up to one of the security guards. Okay, NOW time to try out some of what i've learned.
    "Bonjour. Je suis désolée, ma française est..." The next word was meant to be "mal," but what came out was, "bad." My third rehearsed sentence would have been, "Parlez-vous anglais?" but he cut me off before i got there.
    "Yeah, no worries, man, we can all just talk in English here."
    "Oh, thank you. Uhh. What's going on?"
    "They're setting up for the closing ceremonies of the Paralympics tomorrow."
    Remembering from last time that there's a tunnel that goes under the roundabout so pedestrians don't get splattered immediately, i asked, "So is the Arc open, though? Can i still go inside?"
    "No. It's closed today and tomorrow for the ceremonies, and it's always closed Sunday. So, Monday it will be open."
    Merde.
    Yeah, i'm still expecting to be in Paris on Monday, but it sucks that i can't do this on our anniversary, as planned.
    I'd planned to go straight to the Eiffel Tower from here, but now that i suddenly had more time, i figured i should do something else.
    I got back into the subway and headed over to Pont des Arts. I had been thinking of doing this before the Arc anyway, but after i spent so much longer at the cemetery than planned, i had skipped it.
    Pont des Arts is the original love lock bridge. It was dismantled in 2015 after concerns were raised about the weight of tens of thousands of metal locks on a bridge that was not designed for that. It's right outside the Louvre, and i am planning to spend a day at the Louvre, but coming here now is, of course, significant, because of the date, as i keep saying.
    With your back to the Louvre, it's the second full panel on the left, two links up from the bottom, three links over from the right. That's where we put our lock.
    The original chain link panels are, of course, gone now, replaced with plexiglas. The corner that our lock hung in has a crossbar directly behind the plexiglas, which has corroded and grown mold, since the Seine runs under that bridge and moisture can get between those things.

    I sat down on the bridge, my back resting against that panel, with the open corner to my left. Sat there for half an hour, lost in thought. Cried a little, until my tears started blending in with the rain.
    The rain? Oh shit.
    The weather app said it was supposed to be warm and sunny all day.
    I sought refuge in the entryway to the Louvre's courtyard for a bit, wishing i had put the sleeves on my jacket. It was getting cold, and the wind was kicking up.
    The Louvre courtyard also had a section cordoned off by that opaque black fencing, with what looked like bleachers and a stage behind. Are they doing Paralympics stuff at the Louvre, too?
    I suddenly became concerned about the Eiffel Tower. Would that, too, be blocked off for Paralympics stuff? This is a tourist nightmare. I just wanted to relive some memories for my anniversary!
    The rain ended pretty quickly. The dark clouds continued rolling across the sky, but i could see blue between them, and the sun poked out from time to time.
    I decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower, as yesterday, for the sheer joy of walking through Paris. The subway had occurred to me, just because of the impending threat that the rain would continue, but i didn't want to do that. As i walked, i did get some sprinkles, but the clouds eventually dissipated and the sun came out, warming me a little.
    I also did pass a bridge over the Seine where workers were actively dismantling Olympic infrastructure. More than half the bridge was taken up by bleachers, and there were more on the shores, so i assume that rowing or some such occurred here.
    I was feeling hungry. It had been a while since that panini, and it was fast approaching a reasonable dinner time. I thought about stopping for something on the way, my goal here, the one defined objective for the entire trip, was to be at the summit for sunset, which was 8:07pm.  But i had come up with another bucket list item to add to the experience since i made that plan; i wanted to eat a fancy dinner at the restaurant on the Eiffel Tower.
    I may never get to Paris again. I hope to play at some film festivals here in a few years. And maybe someday, i'll have someone special to bring here for that famous Paris romance. Who knows. But none of that is guaranteed.
    I wanted to do this thing, so i did it. That's the philosophy of the entire trip.
    I didn't come here to save money.
    I knew it was going to be at least fifty, maybe a hundred Euros. I hoped it wouldn't be more than that, but frankly i didn't care. Dinner on the Eiffel Tower, for our anniversary.

    The Eiffel Tower is a bit different than i remember it. This is mostly due to the Olympics. in 2013, we walked right up, and were under the tower immediately. Today, there is a plexiglas wall around the entire base of the tower, with security checkpoints and designated entry and exit ways. I had to empty all of my pockets and go through a metal detector, just to get under the tower. It was almost like airport security. Thank Tom Petty i didn't have my bag.
    I do have to admit, though, that it was nice being able to walk around under the tower without being accosted by street vendors every ten steps. That's what i remember from last time. Now, they are all set up with their blankets full of unlicensed souvenirs just outside the plexiglas.
    There are a couple of restaurants on the Eiffel Tower, actually. I picked Madame Brasserie. There was a reception kiosk on the ground, with the menu helpfully posted on the side.
    They had some options for the format of your meal. An appetizer plus a main, or a main plus a desert, would be €70, not including drinks. The full seven-course experience was €175.
    The reception kiosk was still closed while i was looking. Lunch had ended over an hour ago, and dinner didn't start until 6:30, so i guess there's no reason for reception to be open in between. I was just about to move away from the kiosk when someone came up to the back, opened a door, and went in.
    There was a seating area facing the kiosk, filled with people older and better dressed than me. I assumed they were all waiting for reception to open. I could easily have stood there in front of the window until it opened, and cut all of these people off, but i didn't want to cause a stir. I decided to go see about getting my pass to the tower first. No sense in making a dinner reservation if i can't actually get up the tower for some reason.
    I fully intended to take the stairs, like last time. It's what Amanda would have wanted. Stairs passes are €14.20, or €26.90 with access to the summit; elevator is €22.60/€35.30 for the same. They're sold from different ticket booths.
    The line to get stairs passes was like 100 people deep, and emptied directly into the stairwell. Looks like i'm probably better off getting my reservation squared away first.
    So i went back to Madame Brasserie's reception. The line was only a dozen or so people ahead of me.
    When i got to the front, my interactions with the clerk had some very classist overtones.
    "Do you have a reservation?" she asked.
    "No, i was hoping to make one here," i replied. Her face contorted into that oohhh, this isn't gonna work out for you look. "Are they still available? Or is it booked full tonight?"
    "Reservations are still available," she conceded.
    "Great, i'd like to get dinner and dessert."
    She made that face a second time.
    "It's €70 for a main course and either an appetizer or dessert. Are you sure that's okay?"
    "Yes, that's what i want."
    She scribbled some things down on the reservation slip, there was more banter, and then, "So this is for just drinks, right?"
    "Main course and dessert," i reiterated firmly, but politely.
    "Oh! Right, sorry."
    She charged me €11.30 to make the reservation, which had to be paid in cash. Lucky again that i had some.
    "Okay, i need you to take the elevator up. See that green sign over there? Take that one. Here's your reservation slip, show them this. Dinner is at 6:30, so you have some time to walk around up there first."
    "Thank you," i said.
    Huh. Okay, by making a reservation for the expensive restaurant, i've actually saved money on the lift pass. Interesting.
    I went to the tent with the green sign, as instructed. There were three security guards under the tent, laughing and joking around with each other. I came up to them, and stopped, with my reservation out. They didn't even look at it, they just waved me through to the line ahead.
    Another metal detector. I got the big things in the tray, and asked the guard, "Do i need to fully empty my pockets again?"
    "No, this is fine. Just step through," he said.
    I passed through the metal detector. It didn't make any noise.
    "What's in that pocket?" he asked, pointing.
    "Just batteries," i said, pulling them out.
    "Oh, okay. Go ahead, then."
    Weird. That wasn't even the most bulgingly full pocket in my pants, let alone my vest.
    As i stood in line for the lift, a panic set in. Wait. Does this reservation count as a lift ticket? It doesn't make sense that they'd give it to me at a discounted rate when i haven't even ordered their expensive food yet. Was i supposed to go buy a lift ticket also, after i got this reservation? Do i need to get out of line and go do that now? Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
    I thought about asking someone, but i was surrounded by well-dressed rich people that were used to eating at places like Madame Brasserie. I could not reveal my ignorance. Must maintain my cool. If i get to the elevator, and they turn me away, i'll just say i was confused, and i'll go get that ticket now.
    But then, would i have time to get up there and eat before sundown? I'm not going to the restaurant after sunset. I'm expecting to be either an emotional, sobbing wreck, or heading to the film festival if i'm okay.
    I got to the ticket scanner. I saw him scan several other reservations, his device made a beep, and they were let through. He scanned mine. It made the same beep, and he turned to the next person.
    Okay. We're okay.
    "Who told you to go in this line?" he said suddenly.
    Me and several of the people ahead of me turned around. I didn't know what to say.
    "Going to the second floor, go up these stairs, get on the elevator up there!"
    The people ahead of me turned and headed for those stairs, as did i, even though i was thinking i should be going to the first floor, as that's where the restaurant is. I wanted to get seated as close to 6:30 as possible, to make sure i had time to get to the summit before 8. But also, i was trying not to draw attention, so i started to follow the crowd.
    "You there," he said, flagging me down. "Did i scan your ticket?"
    "Yeah," i said. This was not a lie, i'd seen him do it, i'd heard the beep, but suddenly i had that thought that only someone with chronic anxiety can feel. Did he scan my ticket? Did it beep correctly? I don't want him to rescan it, just in case i am doing this wrong. I'm already in here, i'm not going back.
    "Okay," he said, and returned to his post to scan more tickets.
    I got away with it.
    ...i said, as though i had done anything wrong.
    You know, i'm actually really glad i ended up doing the lift this time instead of the stairs. It's a whole experience in itself. I'm happy that i can say i've done both now.
    The elevators are fickle things. First of all, they packed us as tightly as they could in there. The walls say maximum capacity is 34, and that seems about right. There was barely space for breathing. If you fart in there, you're getting murdered before you reach the first floor.
    The elevator operator has a whole control panel that they need to monitor, with several gauges that i couldn't make any sense of. She took us up to the first floor, where we stopped for a few minutes with the doors remaining closed, and then we went back down. We were almost all the way back to the ground when someone close to her asked, "Why are we going back down?"
    "Don't worry about it," she said. "It's just a mistake."
    We then waited on the ground for a few minutes before we ascended again, this time moving beyond the first floor and watching Paris grow smaller through the wide windows.
    Some quick facts, to put the elevator experience into perspective. The first floor is 187 feet above the ground. The second is 377 feet. The third floor, the summit, is at 906 feet. All of this was built in 1889. The various elevator gauges are on a computer screen now, but otherwise, i do not know how much modernization has been done, but it all still looks pretty authentic.
    I walked around on the second floor for a while, just gazing at the urban sprawl of Paris, as far as the eye could see, in every direction. It's amazing how big this city is. The Paris city guides i've seen keep saying, "Paris is very walkable, you barely even need to use the metro," but like. Come on. For one, time is a resource, and for two, not everyone can do that much walking. Look at how much city there is out there. The points of interest are very spread out.
    The rain had stopped and the clouds had dissolved entirely by now, but it was still getting cold up there. I once again found myself lamenting my lack of sleeves.
    I started down the stairs to the first floor, and i had a *reaction* to that. Staring at the tiny city below me from the railings of the second floor, 377 feet off the ground, is fine. But for some reason, being on this stairwell and looking down the metal innards of one of the most famous buildings in the world is triggering my fear of heights, which i thought i had basically conquered. I death gripped the railing and kept to the inside of the stairs as much as i could, trying to keep focused on the stairs themselves.
    Been a while since i've had that kind of a reaction.
    Whereas the second floor is a solid square, the first is more of a ring around the legs of the tower, so there's a big opening in the middle where you can look down to the courtyard below and see all the tiny people milling around like Sims. This opening is guarded by plexiglas, which i don't remember being there last time, but i could be wrong. I approached it to get some shots through the hole, only to realize that i was about to step on a glass portion of floor.
    Nope. Nope nope nope. I cannot do that, this is where i draw the line.
    The glass floor continued to right in front of Madame Brasserie. You don't have to walk on it to get to the door, but the metal part of the walkway is not wide enough to allow me to get a decent shot of the sign above the door. So i just got one from an extreme tilt.
    It's fine.
    The hostess inside the restaurant also seemed like she was treating me as though i was lost or confused when i first walked in and asked if dinner had started. Once i showed her my reservation, her tone changed, and i was seated right away. I do feel like she put me in a secluded wing of the restaurant, away from most of the patrons. I'm not going to complain though, because for one, i didn't want to sit with them anyway. But also, she sat me at a table facing out the window, looking directly at Paris's downtown skyscrapers, the most impressive part of the landscape below. The sun was also slightly to the left, so i could keep track of it as it approached the horizon.

    I was going to order the Filet de Canette, the duck, when i reread the menu and realized that doesn't say duck. It says duckling.
    Bruh.
    I had already written a bit in the Riga episodes about how i feel guilty about all the meat i'm eating on this trip, just because i want to try traditional regional foods and all that. I am not going to eat a baby. Holy shit.
    So i got the Médaillons de Lotte, a monkfish dish. Which, uh. Is still served with a lobster bisque. I took a stand against eating lobster because of the way it's prepared years before i went mostly vegan.
    Fuck me, there aren't any ethical choices on this menu.

    For dessert, i went with the Crème au Chaucolat et Popcorn au Sarrasin. Chocolate custard and cream of buckwheat with popcorn.
    And i ordered a drink called In Seine, which includes St. Germain liqueur, cognac, absinthe, bourbon, and egg white.
    Everything was wonderful. I do not think it was worth the price, though, i've had much more delicious food for much less pretty much anywhere. But, i came into this for the experience and the prestige, and i know damn well that that's what i paid for, so i'm not disappointed about it.
    The bill was €97, though. For just me.
    But it's all right. I held the necklace with Amanda's ashes as i stared out that window, and whispered, "There. I took you to the fanciest restaurant i could think of for our anniversary."
    Because that's what this was. This was our anniversary dinner.
    As i was paying the bill, at 7:50, i asked the waiter if he knew whether the reservation included the lift to the summit. The possibility that it might not had just occurred to me while i was eating.
    He told me that it does not.


    Oh.



    Well.


    That's disappointing.

    The whole idea was to be at the summit for sunset. I've said it several times.
    But i made my peace with it. We did sunset at the summit 11 years ago, i've seen it, i've been there. Maybe i won't make it all the way to 906 feet, but i am on the Eiffel Tower. I'll climb back up to the second floor, where i can at least see the sun without the fences in the way, and i'll be satisfied with that. I didn't get the summit, but i did get the dinner, and that was the new experience that i wanted today.
    The sunset was just as beautiful as i remembered.
    You know i cried.
    Not as much as i thought i would, though.

    Once the sun was completely hidden behind the curvature of the Earth, i was ready to go. Yes, i bought a ticket for a movie tonight, but i said before that i was going to prioritize my emotional space tonight, and if i needed more time on the Eiffel Tower, i was going to take it, and let the movie go. Even though i might never have another chance to see this movie again, definitely not in a theater. But i felt like i'd gotten what i needed. It was very crowded up there. I was ready to go.
    I was off the tower and headed down the street twenty minutes ahead of schedule. That's great, that's some extra padding before the movie. I'd been a bit worried about the tight timeframe.
    Took the metro over to Forum des Halles, to go to a theater called Forum des Images. This is the same stop i'd gone to earlier, for Pont des Arts. The metro station is under the Forum des Halles mall, on the -4th floor, which had confused me a little earlier in the day. But this time, i thought i knew what i was doing.
    Looking at the map, i thought the Forum des Images would be in one of the buildings on the streets outside the mall. It didn't look far. So i thought the first step would be getting out of the mall. I took escalators up, the last of which deposited me directly outside. I followed my GPS straight out from that escalator, into a park between the Forum des Halles mall, and a church which bears the signs for Forum des Halles, but is actually called Église Saint-Eustache. When i'd walked by it earlier, on the way to Pont des Arts, i'd confused it for Notre Dame, thinking i was approaching that cathedral from the back, because of the flying buttresses. Apparently there are many flying buttresses in Paris.
    The GPS point was right in the middle of that park. It was leading me into a ring of trees at the center.
    What? What the fuck? No, i am not going to jump into a dark cluster of trees in the middle of a park at night in Paris. There clearly is not a theater in there, what's wrong with you?
    I went to the theater's web site and got it's physical street address, and punched that into Maps, where i'd previously just searched for the name.
    Same shit.
    Okay. I started roaming around the edges of the park, trying to look down the side streets, hoping that a theater would catch my eye. I looked back at my errant app, and noticed that it said, "Westfield Forum des Images."
    Westfield is the owner of the mall, their logo is all over the thing. I had been musing about that earlier, because Westfield also owns a bunch of malls in Los Angeles, including the one our Costco was attached to. It's the same logo.
    I headed back to the mall. Okay. There's a theater in here somewhere.
    Back at the top of that last escalator, i found a sign with an arrow pointing down that said, "Forum des Images." Wonderful! I can just follow signs, and get there!
    I found the mall on the -3rd floor.
    It's literally under that park. The GPS doesn't understand the z axis, so it made me stand on top of the underground movie theater.
    I'm very happy i was able to make it to this special screening of the restored full assembly cut of The Thief and the Cobbler. It was an incredible experience.

---

Amanda and i had always suspected that our one full day in Paris had been the most walking we'd done in our lives. After we got Fitbits, we would talk about that day from time to time, saying we wish we'd had them back then, to see what the fitness data would have looked like. How many steps we took. How far we actually walked.
    That day in 2013 had been marked with a lot of confusion, getting lost, being sent miles out of our way to find offices that didn't exist and products that couldn't be sold. Plus we did many of the same attractions that i did in 2024.
    Knowing what we knew about step counts years later, we estimated that we probably hit 30 or 40k steps that day. After running some marathons, which clocked in around 50k steps for me, i started to wonder if that Paris 2013 estimate was perhaps a bit high.
    On September 13, 2024, my day on my own traveling across Paris, when i used the subway for many of the longer distances, i clocked 26,677 steps. Over 13 miles, a half marathon's worth of walking.
    So yes. Yes, i think it's possible that we walked 40k or more steps that day.
    This only increases my desire to have that data. I wish so bad that it existed.
    I went straight back to the hostel from the movie, and passed out.