Colossal Waste: EuroTour 2010, Day 5, Paris

Today will be our final full day in Paris. In honor of this fact, I will not burden you with a picture of the same breakfast as the day before and the day before. Instead, we get the unusual convergence of a "Where my feet have been" shot combined with a "Good morning honey what shall we do" shot.

My lovely feet and even lovelier wife. When you stay in a very small hotel room for many days, perhaps weeks, you do begin to wonder why we need so much space at home.

The day's agenda has been decided: we will Metro to the Arc de Triomphe, stroll along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, and then perhaps nap.

Barbie borrows the iPhone to take a picture of the woman behind me, whose shoes and other assets draw attention. Yet this pic makes-the-Waste, as we like to say, because of the Abbey Road shirt.

When something is beautiful, it just is. And in this case, it is simply huge, 160 feet tall. Taller than a 10 story building.

A sign pointing out the underground walkway to the Arc. The design for the Arc was inspired by the Arch of Titus in Rome. We will be there soon enough and I hope to remember to put pictures of them side-by-side. I recall that the Arch of Titus is simply breathtaking, partially because you look at it and wonder how it can be two thousand years old. This "newer" arch was commissioned in 1806 to commemorate Napoleon's victory at Austerlitz. They did not complete it until 1836, as political turmoil often got in the way.

And I just have to add that Napoleon running around building columns and arches for his victory at Austerlitz kind of seems a little needy. Perhaps pathetic. Yes, you won a major battle. After this victory you let your nation and consequently much of Europe descend into chaos. There was a bigger picture, Napoleon. (Perhaps this is a cautionary tale in regards to letting military strategists move into government.)

Politics aside, after World War I the French placed the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier below the Arc, which is a far better thing for it to represent than Napoleon out-thinking two inbred European Royals on the battlefield.

If you look at this sign, which is for a ticket to walk up the 284 steps to the top, you will note that the second icon from the left appears to be a slightly thick person. The french are subtle.

Under the arc you need an insanely wide angle lens, and I do not have one. Nor do I have the patience to stitch together a Pano.

Up the steps we go! (Sans Barbie. She is resting a blister below.)

Did I mention it is July 4, the USA's Independence day? See the motorcycle parade coming down Boulevard Haussmann on the left? That is a Fourth of July Parade! Do not forget, American Senators who want to change the name of French Fries to Freedom Fries, without France's support we would still be British.

The Arc de Triomphe provides the best view in Paris, unless of course you are at the top of the Eiffel Tower. But you cannot see the Eiffel Tower from the Eiffel Tower, which is what the French call, "le injustice."

This Pano came out very oddly, making diagonal streets appear parallel. Such is tech.

Self Portrait @ Arc de Triomphe, with the Champs-Élysées below.

Lon & Sean, with La Defense behind them. Which is a thorn in my side pointing out that I have never been to that modern, Manhattan-ish skyscraper section of Paris.

The stairs going down.

Back on solid ground, which is a bit of an exaggeration because the Arc is so massive and solid that you feel like you are on solid ground even when you are on top. I should add that it took until my third trip to Paris to get up there. I will call this the SALE; Sean And Lon Effect. Bless them.

Nous quatre avec arc.

Hams.

Time to stroll the Champs-Élysées.

By the way, Champs-Élysées means, "Elysian Fields," the place in Greek mythology for the Blessed Dead. I love when names actually mean something.

For me, seeing a Nun is like seeing a lion while on safari. My mind shouts, "Nun! Wild nun!" And I take a picture.

Crossing the Champs-Élysées, on our way to lunch.

During lunch, or rather waiting for it, I played a bit with Photoshop Mobile. The rest of this toying around is at the end of the day's review.

Barbie and I shared this Croque Monsieur, which explains the lack of egg.

Champs-Élysées has changed a lot in recent years. The French call it the, "banalisation." Chain stores and such moving in, changing the vibe. Honestly, I noticed it right awa, as I have not been here for around a decade. It makes me think of Santa Monica back home, where the Third Street Promenade once featured independent businesses, restaurants and clubs, and now is a series of corporate chain stores.

And shall I bring it up that Champs-Élysées is the place in Greek mythology where the heroic and virtuous went in the afterlife. Now it has Abercrombie & Fitch.

I realize now that I did not take a great street level shot of the Champs-Élysées. Oh well. You have seen stores and movie theaters and restaurants before. And if you like, go back above and look to the right of the motorcycle parade. That is the Champs-Élysées from above.

The Petit Palais, where there is currently a Yves Saint Laurent retrospective. One of the hottest tickets in Paris.

A picture of a picture being taken of Sean & Lon on the Ponte Alexander III, with that ever-present-is-it-everywhere-tower.

The statue at the center of the bridge. I took around twenty pictures along this bridge, but this one is my favorite.

After crossing to the Left Bank, Barbie decided we should walk to Boulevard Saint-Germain. On the less touristy side of Paris, Boulevard Saint Germain feels quite a bit like a comfortable Manhattan neighborhood.

Sitting down for a cold drink, we see our second parade of the day. This one... rollerbladers.

Rollerbladers as far as the eye can see. This parade was so long that I sat and watched it from the brasserie for a few minutes, and then decided to walk over for a closer shot, and missed nothing. I imagine that this parade was more than a mile long. (Unlike the motorcycle parade, there were no USA flags here. At least I did not see any.)

The brasserie on the Left Bank where we rested our very tired and aching feet.

Nuns!

Look to the left and you see a relatively mad homeless man doing an odd sort of fence-push-up. He was grunting as loudly as possible with each dip, which occurred at drunken intervals ranging from 15 seconds to a minute. Note how far the young family wants to stay away from him.

Our ride back to the hotel.

Time for a nap. Barbie and I have dinner tonight with one of her longest and best clients, who happens to be in Paris tonight. After one of those naps that my body is furious to be pulled out of, we walk to dinner at Drouant.

Along the way, I spotted this along the ground next to a bar for people.

I shall not name Barbie's clients, as one thing The Waste has always been about is respecting people's privacy -- you do not even know Sean & Lon's names, after all -- but I do have to say that I had not met them before and they were simply a delightful couple. It was a great dinner with a great conversation.

One extremely cool thing about Drouant, a restaurant by Anroine Westermann, is that you chose themes and then get several small plates based on that them.