Buenos Dias!

Oof. España at last. Katie would like you all to know that she is glad to be back.

Somehow, we managed to catch our 7 a.m. flight from CDG Airport in Paris to Madrid (we did wake up 3:50 in the morning). And so here we are, on the 7th floor/flat of 59 Gran Via making good use of some much appreciated free internet.

After finally escaping from Bayeux, Katie and I, despite having neither bathed nor changed clothes in a solid 24+ hours, soldiered on to Musee dÓrsay to ogle beautiful French Impressionist paintings about which we knew next to nothing. Well worth a visit, though...so long as you do your homework and make sure your camera is charged (ours wasn't -- it died with our pride somewhere in Bayeux). From there, we topped off the day with dinner in Montmarte and a hike to the lover-strewn steps of Sacre Couer, where we admired the mind-blowing panorama while eating ice cream and listening to the French massacre "Billie Jean" (they do try, and more often than not they succeed).

Monday was a day for which our feet will never forgive us. We processed through the ambulatory at Notre Dame (Katie does a superb Quasimodo impression), took in the soaring stained-glass at Saint-Chappelle, and got utterly lost in the labrynthine Cimitiere du Pere Lachaise, where I laid some sugar on Oscar Wilde's tomb (trust me, it's the thing to do...I've got the facial herpes to prove it). Then, after wandering through the Latin Quarter, we tried our very hardest to look posh sipping beverages on the terrace of Les Deux Magots, one of the Lost Generation's favorite cafes. Katie, however, spilled her coffee and spent the better part of an hour daubing at her dress with a Tide-2-Go pen -- much to the waiter's amusement (in his defense, he took a very good photo). Finally, after arriving at the justly famous Rue Cler market two minutes too late, we settled for cheese, chocolate, and a bottle of cheap wine from a nearby grocery store and ended up on the banks of the Seine, where we were mistaken for locals by severely confused river-boating tourists and ordered to "Chug it! Chug it! Chug it!" by none other than...the police.

On Tuesday, we and about fourteen thousand other tourists descended on Versailles like a gaggle of geese on a junebug. The interior of the palace was (IMHO) a bit much, but the gardens were well worth the price of admission.

Before entering the grounds, we dined at a nearby McDonald's packed with pretty, smiling French people doting on their pretty French babies and speaking that pretty, French language of theirs. It's strange (and not a little bit sad, considering how well we were treated in Paris) to think that, at the end of the day, Hewitt Drive conquers the world...

Indeed she does. Until next time...hasta luego.

S & K