Will I ever get to the bit about the Mona Lisa?

OK, so for you folk who are following my blog, I think I will finally cover the bit about the Mona Lisa tonight.
So anyway, we have a lunchtime flight out of Paris to Amsterdam and about two hours to explore the Louvre. Aaargh. The most extensive art collection in the world and two hours to see it!
We hoon it in a taxi and get there early enough to avoid any huge line-up. The hardest part was trying to work out how to use the automated ticket machines. For some reason my credit card wouldn't swipe and so we were scrabbling around for enough cash to get in. Finally ! Yes we're in.Which way to the Mona Lisa? Up that escalator, and down a very long hall, full of huge impressive early paintings. Then a crowd starts to build at the end of the hall - this is it. The famed girl! And about three hundred Japanese tourists in front of it taking photos with digital cameras and flashes. I couldn't believe it, I didn't think you would be able to take photos of it.
Anyway to cut a long story short, it is very small and behind a couple of inches of bullet-proof glass. But it was actually much better seeing it there than ANY photo I've ever seen. The woman was smiling at me! I loved it. I'm going to try to post a very blurry photo of people taking photos of the Mona Lisa, I think this is quite humorous within itself.
So then there was a mad rush to see a couple of Vermeers, some Egyptian stuff, the Venus de Milo, the Rubens room and then a mad dash back to our hotel to catch the airport bus. THE BEST OF The Louvre! in under three hours! I would not recommend it. Take a few weeks, and then you might see it all.
Next time I get to Paris I think I'll spend a week at the Musee d'Orsay. I love the impressionists.

ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOTE.......

WAR...AND HOW MUCH I HATE IT.

I can't believe John Howard is sending more Australian troops to Iraq. Why can't we just leave that poor beleagured country alone? The Americans are doing enough cultural damage for all of us. Life is actually much worse for the average Iraqi now than it ever was. Yep, Saddam and his sons were monsters. They are out of power now. Hooray. But any stability that those people have known is completely gone.
What the average American doesn't get is that the Iraqis had NOTHING to do with 9/11. There still havent been any weapons of mass destruction found. (unless you can count some rusty old shells buried years ago). OK, the war has been fought. But now the "insurgents" or even radical fundamentalists are taking control of the streets - the average Iraqis fear for their lives. Women have been forced back to the dark ages. Read Riverbend's blog - you'll see how it really is for a woman there - a woman who had a good career and a whole heap more freedom than she has now.
Anyway, for the first time in my life I'm not going to sit on the fence. I'm going to a peace march in Melbourne on the 18th March starting at 5pm at the State Library. I'm going to make some signs and have my say! If you feel the same way, come along!

From Notre Dame to the Tour Eiffel

OK, so anybody who has been interested thus far, I shall continue with the Parisian saga.
The descent from the Bell Tower was obviously a lot bloody easier than going up. We had a quick look inside Notre Dame but we were being bailed up left right and centre by people from the Christian festival. C was listening only to the pretty girls trying to convert him, selective Christianity.
So, time to move on to the Eiffel Tower. Back onto the red double-decker bus we go. All the way around Paris again. Then our bus stops, for a long time....in sight of the Eiffel Tower. We sat there for so long that eventually we said, right, we're off mate and walked down through the area with all the gold statues (I'm not sure what that area is called) and watched some kids do great tricks on skateboards on the stairs.
Finally we get underneath the tower, and we are just dying to go to the toilet. So we stand in a queue for 20 minutes. C went straight into the mens - why are there never lines in men's toilets?? Then we start queuing to go up the Eiffel Tower. We were very good at queuing by the time we left Europe.
C was so disappointed because he was dying to climb the stairs to the first and second levels, but the queue to do that closed as it was nearing dusk.
So we queued for an hour-and-a-half and eventually got to go up just as it was getting dark. At least we were being entertained by the police chasing the hawkers away on bicycles and by foot. There is no way I would be a hawker there - those police carry machine guns!!! Once on top of the tower, up a bizarre diagonal elevator I was quite scared, I couldn't go near the edge, particularly on the platform that was open to the wind. It was very beautiful. They started the flashing lights on the tower while we were up there. We could see a soccer match that was being played beneath us, the players looked so tiny, like toys.
We decided that all that queuing had made us hungry so we try to get into the cafe at the Tower. The maitre'd looked us up and down and said they were full. I hate that. Its like being told by a bouncer at a nightclub that it's "Member's Night". Aaargh. Haven't these French people seen Pretty Woman? We had money to spend! So what if we looked a little bedraggled - we had been queuing all day! I also had very festive ornate stripey socks on so maybe that had something to do with it. Sock discrimination. There should be a law against it.
So, sighing, we went down resolving to get dinner elsewhere. C & I have a thing with landmark kissing. We have a big smooch whenever we are near a landmark. So when we see the landmark on TV we have memories - aint that sweet?? So we had a big smooch and decided that we were going to do a waltz underneath the Tower, you know, trying to be romantic and that. C & I belong to an Irish Set Dancing gang, so if anyone out there knows what "Round the House" is, we were doing it. It was going very nicely when the hawkers starting putting plastic Eiffel Towers and roses in front of us - how damn annoying!!
We ended getting felafel and shawarma at a very authentic looking Arab place - lots of Arab guys smoking and playing dominoes - the real deal!
Hey, tomorrow I might get to the Mona Lisa story!

Attempting to see the Mona Lisa

My blog has become a boring rant. So I am going to publish some random thoughts and conversations that have popped up during the day. Today C & I were talking about the Mona Lisa. Somehow that Da Vinci Code book crept its way into our conversation - neither of us have read it. We have had our own Parisian experience....

THE MONA LISA

C & I visited Paris last October for two days only. Our visit to Europe was only for two weeks and it had been my lifetime dream to visit Paris. So we paid a fortune and squeezed in a two day side-trip. Now I am a very organized traveller. I make sure I buy the current guide book, usually the Lonely Planet, study up, research, memorize maps, work out itineraries etc. Very anal. I love maps to almost an obsession.
HOWEVER, because we only had two days in Paris I decided not to plan anything because I already knew what I wanted to do:- 1) Visit the Louvre
2) Climb the Eiffel Tower
3) see Notre Dame
then, whatever else we could fit in in such a short time.
We had a gorgeous hotel room, and paid for it (200 Euro per night) but we had such a lovely view over the romantic gabled roofs of Paris. You could have played a football match in the bathtub, and it had a gentle incline built in to the tub to lean against - it was everything I could have dreamed of (except for the house-maid walking in on me in the middle of the bath! - that was not so dreamy).
So up we rise, nice and early for our day at The Louvre. C went to the local bakery and bought back a delicious assortment of goodies, including one of each of the petit-fours they had in stock in a beautiful cardboard box tied with a ribbon. Just lovely...
We set off down to the Champs Elysees ( a five minute walk away) to catch our red double-decker bus that we had bought a ticket for the day before. We go round just about all of Paris before we get to the Louvre, hop off the bus, get lost on the wrong side nowhere near the entrance. Finally make it inside to where the pyramid is, wondering why there are no lines or many people. WARNING TO OTHER UNSUSPECTING TOURISTS: THE LOUVRE IS CLOSED ON TUESDAYS. I sat on the edge of the fountain and cried. So close and yet so bloody far..........
C did his best to console me. Told me he didn't really care about the Louvre anyway and wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower. It didn't help. We bargained and argued and decided we would have just enough time to quickly dash into the Louvre the next morning and see the highlights.
We decided we would go to Notre Dame and then see the Tower that evening. So we walked to Notre Dame, stopped at a very nice "looking" restaurant for a very average salad ( a strange concoction of cheese, lettuce, mayonnaise and not much else). We get to the plaza in front of Notre Dame and there is this full-on Christian festival happening in the square. There was a giant (hollow) wooden cross and all these people waving their arms and singing. There was also a giant queue to climb the bell-tower! I was on a quest to see where Quasimodo lived. I had a thing for Quasimodo because one of my favourite songs of all time is about him: Quasimodo's Dream by the Reels. (BIG P.S. IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS POST - IF ANYBODY CAN POINT ME IN THE DIRECTION OF WHERE I CAN GET A COPY OF THIS SONG I WOULD BE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. I HAVE A DOWNLOADED COPY OF KATE CEBERANO'S VERSION, BUT ITS JUST NOT THE SAME) .
I get on the end of this very long line. C decides that he feels like smoking a cigar (?!). C is a very health-conscious anti-smoker so this surprised me somewhat. So I patiently wait in line while he shoots off on a cigar mission. He returns and proceeds to smoke the damn smelly thing in the midst of the Christian festival. Then he starts getting dizzy and looks very pale. He sits on the ground and leans on the barrier separating the church from the square looking like a heroin addict who has just had a much needed hit. MANY people were looking at him! Then for reasons known only to C, he decides to eat the butt. Ewwwww says the general populace.
You have to know a few things about my fellow C. He eats anything and has guts of steel. He quite often eats teabags (paper and all), cheese riddled with mould, food that has been unrefrigerated for days, drinks beer with mould growths floating around in it,and not too long ago ate a sausage roll that had been sitting in the car (in summer) for three weeks. Not a single symptom of gastro present. However, the cigar butt actually made him feel ill. Hooray!
Meanwhile in the line I am merrily eavesdropping on a group of gay American guys. How come there is always one whinger in a group that none of the others can seem to stand? Who invites the whinger on the holiday anyway? Do they invite themselves? Is it a pity vote?
Finally the laborious trek up however many steps to the bell-tower. I am not a stair-climber. I am not fit. C was taking delight in my pain by taking pictures of me while I was hauling my asthmatic arse up those stairs. (About a week later I miraculously managed to haul my arse up an even bigger set of steps at St Stephens church in Vienna) It was worth it! A beautiful panorama of Paris and the obligatory photos of me imitating gargoyles.
Oh bugger I'm getting tired now. I'll have to continue my Paris saga next time - maybe we'll get to the Mona Lisa story yet! Till then....

Neglect

Bloody hell, been neglecting my blog. It's easier said than done to keep this up. Have been a lot of perusing of other blogs - v interesting. C has offered to set me up a flash design, so it looks all swish.
Maybe then I'll have more people interested than only me! I think one other person has ticked over the counter since I put it on.
How terribly tragic and sad.
Absolutely no comments at all to make about this weekend - has been very up and down. Seems to me a lot of wasted time. Helped C with "THE PROJECT", did lots of research which was very interesting.
Not much humour, cynicism or anything to mention this time.

I have a counter

Wow. Think I'm becoming serious about this. I now have a counter. Let's see if anyone in their right mind, or not so right mind reads my inane blog.
As for me, how did my day go. Well it seems to be that the powers that be at my workplace aren't going to do anything much about the cleaning contractor that attacked me. It seems he has a brain tumour. On top of that he is an alcoholic. Apparently the medication for his tumour and the grog do not mix. So apparently because everyone feels a bit sorry for him, he's allowed to do crazy things and abuse people and push them through doorways. OK, I wasn't physically harmed in any way. But I was completely freaked out and was quite scared, in fact couldn't stop shaking.
Well I feel sorry for him too. But he shouldn't be working in a place where little things can trigger him off. If I had been one of my company's clients, I think it might have been a different story.
My boss is a very decent Christian man. Very compassionate, likes to look after the people under his wing. However, I think in this case he's treading the wrong side of a fine line. A small part of me feels like resigning because of it, but I know rationally I'm probably looking for an "out".
On a positive note about work, I got really busy during the afternoon, and the time flew. I think its time to try and keep that work rate up all the time and be as efficient as I possibly can be. You know, score some brownie points and perhaps occassionally enjoy what I do. How novel!
Today my daughter thinks I am very funny. Any day that my 5 year old daughter thinks that is a good day. In fact for a while she couldn't stop laughing at a few things I was saying. Oh! The absolute joy in my heart! She has a beautiful joyful erupting laugh. The kind of sound that makes the world go round.

It's been a while...

It's been a while since I made my last (and first) blog entry. There has been lots happening. Firstly I flew back home from around the other side of the world. Then I've gone back to my mundane job only to be harrassed by a crazy contractor. And now my devil is home and we've added two new members to our family, two Guinea pigs named Romeo and Juliet.
I read a lovely book on the plane - Mitch Albom's "The five people you meet in heaven". I bought it at Los Angeles airport during a fit of boredom and started reading it at the gate lounge. By the time boarding commenced I had only two chapters left and started reading it again as soon as I had my seatbelt buckled. I'm sitting in the plane seat bawling my eyes out (I'm prone to lots and lots of tears) while everybody was loading on the plane. The poor guy sitting a few seats down from me didn't know where to look. By the time the plane took off, the book was finished! And I felt touched by a very sweet story.
My devil and I often talk about the fact that we would like to believe in God. But we just can't. Too scientifically minded? Not sure. Seen too much? Possible. Both our mothers died early, mine when I was 14, his when he was 16. Our mothers both had a certain faith in God, mine not so much towards the end, but she had considered becoming a nun when she was young. The devil's mum was quite religious and faced religious dilemmas because of her illness. I could almost go for religion if I had the guarantee that I could see my beloved mother in "heaven" or whatever happens after you die. It's a whimsical fantasy, and basically I cant be bothered with the other religious bullcrap that will get me to heaven! So (hedging my bets here) I hope that if there is something on the other side, that the love my mother and I shared is strong enough for us to be re-united somehow.
Jet Lag
Gotta love it. My sleep patterns still dont seem right after being home nearly a week. I'm still on North American time. My devil (who I'm now going to refer to as C because I dont wont anybody thinking I'm a devil-worshipper) only flew home on Thursday and he looks so tired, poor bub.
Guinea Pigs
We all had a joyous reunion since we've been home with our five year old daughter, although her behaviour is somewhat dubious. She has been very excited to see C again after him being away five weeks but gets over-exuberant about everything, is nearly climbing the walls and driving me nuts. One of our cats has disappeared in the two weeks that I was away and so we decided to get her some pets of her own. So we now own two sweet little Guinea pigs who are merrily munching away at our back lawn. Our little girl, that will henceforth be known as "I", is very happy, and has announced to us that she always wanted guinea pigs (this is the first we ever heard of this!)
Psychotic Cleaning Contractor
Nobody at work told me that this guy had problems. If I had been warned, I would have walked away from him then and there when he bailed me up for using the disabled toilet. The meeting with all the bosses on Monday should be very interesting. I'm going to try and keep my cool, much easier said than done for me! I dont really want him to lose his job, but he cant carry on acting like a nutter. It's not really safe. And my blood pressure can't stand it for sure!
Till next time....

Blast Off!

I am a 37 year old Australian woman who has been absolutely gobsmacked by a blog that I have just read - Riverbend - you are amazingly eloquent, forthright and unafraid of the world. Everything that I would aspire to be.
I have had a bad day. It started off unassumingly enough, but it has ended with me doing a deal with the devil. This is not such a bad deal, and it is forcing me to do something that I have wanted to do for a long time - and that is write. As the devil told me, I make every excuse in the book not to actually start to write. The house is too messy, I have a million other things to do etc. All these things are true. But mostly I'm just scared. Scared of failure and criticism. I think I actually have a phobia of criticism.
I work as an unqualified accountant in a fairly unsatisfying job. It is easy enough, the money is good, but it really just passes the day away and puts food on the table. As the devil said to me, I dont have a passion for anything. I have been caught up in a rotten suburban lifestyle and I do crave for more. So if anyone out there is crazy enough to read this, and empathises in any way - hey - let me know.
The year before last I had a mid-life crisis. I left my husband, moved states, and took up with the 21-year-old devil that I have previously mentioned. This devil is no ordinary devil. He is blessed and tainted equally. He is of the mad scientist genre. Completely brilliant, driven, emotionally unstable. You know the type. When he is not telling me how much he loves me with a mad passionate lusty look in his eye, he is telling me how much he hates me and wishes he never met me.
I wear the burden of being a "Scarlet Woman" without ease and accompanied by much guilt. After all, I am a very lapsed Catholic.
By the way, my name is not Edna. I thought that it was a very unassuming name that would not attract attention. My blog name really says it all. Suburban mediocrity. (Please, no offence to anyone named Edna or any accountants intended).
Why have I decided to write a blog? Is it an ego thing? Probably. Do I think I'm talented and funny? Probably. It's a start. And I dont want the devil on my tail.
Much much more later......