Today I spent quite a bit of time around the Centre Pompidou.
First I got hot chocolate because I was freezing. The hot chocolate was HOT... and it was THICK. It was kind of like drinking a Lite yogurt. It wasn't quite custardy, but it was really, really creamy. Like whipping cream that hasn't been whipped, maybe.
As I was sipping my drinking chocolate, a boy about my age came up to the garbage right near me...
... and rummaged through it until he found what looked like half of a baguette or a sandwich. I almost offered him the rest of my chocolate, but I thought that might be weird.
While I was getting my hot chocolate, there was apparently a fashion show wrapping up in the Centre, because while I was looking at the building and sipping, these uber-skinny waif-girls kept walking out of the far doors and getting chased down by fashion photographers. I walked out of the plaza at the same time as one of them and caught her saying, "...they all rush around and want to take pictures of the models, but hardly any of them even know our names. It's like, if you don't know my name, why do you even want a picture of me?"
Ick. So public, and yet so anonymous. I would hate that.
I left the area to try and go shoe shopping for a while, and then about an hour later returned to grab some dinner. I didn't have time to go to my apartment and get back for Institute, so I decided to treat myself to my first real restaurant meal in Paris. I went to this little brasserie just to the South of the C. Pompidou and I got Orangina (staple), Quiche Lorraine, and this massive Creme Brulee that was to die for. My meal was delicious, and I took some time between "courses" to write some thoughts in a little notebook I bought today.
This exhibit was in my direct line of sight out the front windows of the brasserie. If this is any indication, I think I'm going to like what I see inside.
Seeing that boy rummage through the garbage made me sick. Like when I was reading The Kite Runner, it brought some of the worst things that happen to people right up into my reality. I realized truly how blessed I am to have a family that has always been well provided for, to have a job, and... hello, to be able to move to Paris just because I want to. I am truly spoiled. And I know it. But I'm grateful for it, if that makes a difference.