I got up early Monday morning, July 26, and caught a cab at my hotel, the Hilton London Metropole.  The hotel was near the Edgeware Road underground stop, but it wasn't open at 5:15 a.m., and I wanted to get to Waterloo train station early to be sure I didn't miss the Eurostar train to Paris.

Well, the nice London cab driver got me to the station on time and I didn't miss the train.  There it is right there, in fact, the Eurostar I rode to Paris.  And we're in Paris, too.  I took this picture at the Gare du Nord station after my arrival.  I didn't take too many pictures here.  I was too busy trying to read all the signs in French, looking for a way to the Paris Metro so I could ride to my hotel.

Well, I managed to find the hotel without too many false starts.  I was amused when I opened the door to my room to find this message on my television.  I haven't often been referred to as "William Ear."  (My middle name is "Earl.")

After I settled into my room for a bit, I struck out on a walking tour.  I'd planned to visit the Orsay museum this morning, but when I arrived I discovered it was closed on Mondays.  And as I didn't care to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre again (I saw it on my previous visit), I just meandered around a bit.

I didn't need to be anywhere until 7:00 that evening for a previously arranged dinner and show at the Moulin Rouge.  And it turned out that the departure point for all my tours this week, including the visit to the Moulin Rouge, was right here across the street from the Louvre. 

There's I.M. Pei's famous pyramid of glass in the Louvre's courtyard.  I still think it looks out of place.

There's the Paris Opera House.  One of these days I'd like to see an opera there.  Or maybe an evening of Debussy.

And here it is, the famous Moulin Rouge.  They warn you not to take pictures inside, and in fact they want to confiscate your camera.  But I have a small Canon that I just kept in my pocket.  Even so, I didn't risk taking a picture inside. 

I ended up sitting at a table with two nice Japanese ladies who spoke no English whatsoever, and since I speak no Japanese, we just smiled and nodded the night away.  Also at the table were five bicyclists from California who were in town to see Lance Armstrong win his sixth Tour de France, which he had done the day before.  They were very nice, but I think they didn't know much about the Moulin Rouge.  When I mentioned Toulouse-Lautrec, I received only blank looks.

The dinner wasn't great, but how could you expect it to be?  Even in France, a kitchen serving 800 patrons all at once has to make some sacrifices in quality.  Let's face it -- this was cafeteria food, but nicely presented.  Well, semi-nicely presented.

And as for the show, well, it was interesting.  I have to admit I'd never seen a nearly-naked lady dive into a huge glass tank of water filled with giant snakes desperately trying to escape her grasp.  She'd wrap one around herself and then hold it above her head, while all the other snakes were just swimming frantically in the opposite direction.  Yep, that was memorable, all right.  The ventriloquist and the acrobats and the dancing gendarmes and the feathery pomegranates with nipples were more forgettable.  They did do the can-can, though, so the evening wasn't a complete waste.

If you ever go to Paris, I recommend you skip the Moulin Rouge.  It may have been THE place to see and be seen a hundred years ago, but now it's a Vegas tourist trap.