The trip part 11

So, our final full day in Paris and of our trip. We caught the tourist shuttle (again) around to LaFayette for Miss R to try and find some perfume or some such, but in actuality, we were going to have to re-mortgage the house should she wished to buy anything, such was the shameful performance of the South Pacific Peso at that point in time. So we left there and tried to find our way to Montmarte and the Sacre Cour Cathedral. This meant having to brave the Paris underground metro system. Now, four years ago I never had any problems with it, I used it quite easily, but for some reason this time around I was apprehensive. We asked a ticket booth lady which ticket to get, but she a grumpy little thing that was obviously upset by our mere presence, so we used the automatic ticket machine. Somehow we made it to the right station and walked up hill...a very long hill. What I wasn't expecting were laneways filled with dodgy secondhand dealers and equally dodgy people. Suddenly we weren't in Paris anymore but the back blocks of Doveton. Seriously, not pleasant. We took a look at the cathedral at the top of the hill, as impressive as it was, and walked back down the hill. Let down factor 10. I also got hit up by the infamous bracelet scam, where some African guy comes up and asks you to put your finger in a loop of string. Apparently they go on tie a bracelet around your arm and then 'insist' that you pay for it. They were very insistent, Miss R wanted me to be polite, but I was ready to sink my fist in his face if he didn't leg it. So, we made our way around to the Musee D 'Orsay, really, the best gallery in Paris in my book. The Louvre is a waste of time and money (The countless floor to ceiling renditions of the crucifixion get a little tiresome if you know what I mean). Anyway, the best bit about the Musee D Orsay was the Impressionist section. Here were some of the world's most famous paintings, all in one spot. Van Go, Monet, Renoir, all of them. Even Miss R, who isn't an art buff, was suitably impressed. And this wasn't just a pissy little room, with 5 paintings that the National Gallery of Victoria would put on, no way, there were about 5 large rooms, with 10 paintings from EACH artist. Breathtaking. So, that was that. We had dinner at a lovely little restaurant around the corner from the hotel where upon I had my final Creme Brulee. Pretty bloody nice it was too. The next day, our shuttle arrived to pick us up and take us to Charles De Gaulle airport. Not the prettiest of airports in the world one must say, and certainly one of the worst security checks in the whole world. Only 1 x-ray machine to serve about three plane loads of people. stunning in its inefficiency. We had good seats home, the trip from Paris to KL was uneventful, prescription sleeping tablets working a treat yet again. However, the trip from KL to Melbourne was not so good. Apparently we had found ourselves in the unofficial 'baby section'. I'm really not convinced that a 10 hour plane ride with a 6 month old is a pleasant experience. We had 6 of them in close proximity, plus a few toddlers whose parents decided to suddenly disown them once in the confines of the plane. I think check in people should just put all the kids and parents together in the one spot, maybe down the back, behind a sound proof screen perhaps, because, from the reactions of everyone else on that plane we were with, that would've seemed like the smart thing to do.