This past weekend in France was filled with long bus rides, wine, cheese, crepes, and French fries. I pretty much ate my way through the country for the most part; my stomach moved through France at speeds which the French have not seen since the blitzkrieg in WW2. I can honestly feel myself getting fatter throughout the course of this trip, but I am unwilling to go on a diet and not eat the national foods. On the first night in France, we ate at a buffet: I consumed French foods, cheeses, and Spanish wine until my stomach hurt. One friend on the trip had a bit too much wine and ended up regurgitating his meal inside the bus about two hours later, making a great surprise for the bus driver on the following morning. After the buffet, we went to the top of Mont Parnesse, Paris’s 2nd highest structure, second only to the Eiffel Tower.
        Early Saturday morning, we began to walk through Paris. Interestingly enough, Luke was leading our group of twelve, and coincidentally, we walked right into the middle of a massive gay parade. In response, we all made fun of Luke and jokingly commented that he had planned the rendezvous. Then three hours later, Luke somehow led us to the heart of the parade once again. Now, the first time may have been just a coincidence, but as for the second, I think not. Fear this Maura. On Saturday, I saw the Mona Lisa while visiting the Louver: It was cool to stand 2 feet away from the world’s most famous painting totally clueless as to what makes it so renowned and respected. After walking through Paris for a bit longer, Luke and I ran to the Arc de Triumph. While sweating profusely, trying to avoid running into French people in the streets, and doing our best not to miss the bus, Luke got yelled at by a French policeman for not wearing a shirt in public. Thus for the rest of the way, I was sweating, dodging French people, and also listening to Luke complain about the farce that he now believed French liberalism to be.
        We actually did make the bus and ended up going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The view was for the most part indescribable, and the strong wind added to the thrill of being 350 meters above the surface of the earth. A couple of friends and I decided to take the steps about two-thirds of the way down, and after 20 minutes or so, we finally arrived at the bottom.
        On Sunday, we visited the Palace of Versailles and saw the famous room where the Treaty of Versailles was signed. Honestly, I have to give the French some credit: Unlike the British, they realized how pointless a king and queen were and beheaded them, saving billions of dollars in pointless, extravagant, spending over the next 200 years. After seeing more of Versailles, we met the bus and began the long trip back home. Thanks to London’s traffic, we arrived back home eleven hours and two bus movies later.

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