From where I sit, right this second, if I turn my head just to the left, like this, I can see the Eiffel Tower.
Yes, it’s true. I’m in Paris. I’m still pinching myself to make sure, and the bruises all indicate that I’m really, really here.
Boy and I are in a seventh floor flat near the Bastille. It’s all ours for the next few days. From the windows, I can see la Tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Hotel des Invalides (where Napoleon is buried), and Sacre Couer up the hill in Montemartre. So basically, all of Paris is unfurled just below our noses.
We arrived yesterday afternoon (It’s Friday morning in Paris right now, but nearly midnight on Thursday at home.) by train from Switzerland. So far we’ve taken the Boy and Lo show to Milan, Florence, Zurich, and now gay Paris.
We met up with several friends in Florence, two of whom ran the AIDS Marathon last Sunday. Both of them finished with excellent times (that’s you, Roy and Michael!!!), and we were so very proud.
So now Boy and I are on the last leg of our European adventure, and what better place to wind it up than here, in the city of lights. I’ve got a full day of exploration waiting for me, so I’d best get dressed and get out there.
I’ll get to the finer details later…
-Lo, who’s looking forward to using the French phrase that S concocted especially for me to use when I’m out shopping and find something irresistable: “Ravissante. Je mourirai de la beaute, mais je suis trop exquisemente sophistiquee.” (Ravishing! I would die from the beauty, but I am just too exquisitely sophisticated.)