Now hear the boys singing Bee Gees songs under the skies, And on the steps of Montmartre they harmonise

First the most shocking thing to happen yesterday:

I was sitting outside at a bar with Julian and his friend Nicholas when a girl comes up to me and in French asks me if I am from the United States. I vaguely get a sense of what she means, so say yes. She switches to English and informs me that she is Blanca, the French girl who lived with my aunt and uncle for a summer in 1998. If I recall properly, she stayed with my family too for about a week or a weekend. I hadn't seen or heard from her or any reason to believe that I would, especially since 1998 was before email because nearly universal.

I was shocked. This was even more shock than when I saw three law school acquaintances in one day in Cinqueterre or when I saw the same girls again in Rome and Warsaw. Or when I saw that guy again in Chamonix. This outdid all previously experienced shock. She now lives upstairs across the street from the bar we were at and was celebrating her boyfriend's birthday with a bunch of their friends. We exchanged information and I think will try to get in touch before I go. Bizarre.

Yesterday morning, I took a train to Chartres (made the train by about 2 minutes, running through the station) to view the cathedral. The cathedral was worth seeing, and because it is probably one of the very last cathedrals I see on this trip, I spent more time than I usually do. Instead of just racing up to the top, racing down and doing a quick round of the interior, I sat up on the top for about 20 minutes taking in the (yes, again) "breathtaking view" of the town. Some Japanese tourists smiled at me.

Downstairs, inside the cathedral, I sat for about half an hour, admiring the stained glass windows (especially the Blue Virgin) and repeating empty Hail Mary's in my head.

For lunch, I spent an hour searching the town (which itself was a disppointment - B-O-R-I-N-G!!!) for the most "typical" restaurant. I found a good one, and had an entree (which in French means appetizer!) of herring and main course of tripe. I've had a lot of tripe on my European vacation, and have decided that in L.A. I hadn't given it a fair shot. True, I occasionally get tripe at taco stands, but when prepared properly for dinner it can be surprisingly good!

I slept on the train ride back to Paris, listening to DJ Earworm mashups of the Scissor Sisters, Fischerspooner, George Michael, the Eurythmics, Avenue D, and Depeche Mode. Although I was half asleep, it made me want to dance.

Metro to Montmartre. Ran up the steps, toured the Sacre Couer church. Sat on the steps for a few minutes staring down at Paris for one last time...

Walked all over the Montmartre area, which was more touristy than I had imagined, but also really good. Paris is mostly flat, so it was fun for me to walk up and down hills as I would (and will be doing all too soon) back home. I walked down the kind of disgusting Clichy street, which is lined with mostly porno theatres (with very aggressive door people who try to physically pull in anybody who as much as glances at the very attention grabbing advertisements), past the Montmartre cemetery (closed) and back up the hill to meet Julian at the Place du Tertre.

We had an unexceptional dinner at the bottom of the hill but then walked to a much cooler bar (I heard "Gut Feeling" from Devo) and met up with his friend. And I ran into Blanca.

Later went to an even better bar, which although a bit too smoky, had great music and people watching. Made me all the less envious of the L.A. scene.

Again, a great day.