Fun With Medieval Art (Also: Everyone Here Is Melting)

So this has been me the past few days:





I'm not even joking right now, we have been DYING so far this week. It has been so, soooo hot (Like, 90 degrees in the suburbs, closer to 95 in the city kind of hot). I feel like some kind of lizard that just needs to hide under a nice cool rock for the rest of eternity . . . mmm, that sounds nice.

Well, if I can't live under a rock, then I guess The Dungeon (what Anna and I have taken to calling our rooms downstairs) will have to do. On to the blog!

Side note: I've actually decided to split Monday and Tuesday/Wednesday into two separate posts, so I'll post Monday's today and then Tuesday and Wednesday's tomorrow. Why? Because there was so much material in this blog, and I didn't want it to get too long. 

Anyway! The first thing to happen to me on Monday was a bit of a throwback to last week's Spider (Mis)Adventure. As I was getting ready for school on Monday morning, I suddenly saw a large black mass emerge VERY SWIFTLY from behind my dresser. It was moving too fast for my eyes to register more than the fact that it was Big, and then it was suddenly behind the microwave. 

I'm more curious about bugs than I am squeamish, so I went over with my phone flashlight and tried to see what exactly was back there. 

It was not a spider. It was a large black centipede, like this one (he moved too fast for me to snap a pic, so I had to find one on Google): 

(I tried to make him cute, but it didn't work--I'm really sorry if you're squeamish!!)

Anyway, he wasn't bothering me or anybody else, so I just kind of let him do his thing. He's probably still behind the microwave. I have named him Patrick, after our chain-smoker bus driver, and he is my friend.

Other than Patrick, the day seemed like it would be pretty good. I mean, it started off with this absolutely gorgeous sunrise: 

But by the time class at L'Etoile ended at noon, the sun had shifted just enough to remind us all that we had sweat glands.

Oh!! Exciting fact! I actually rode the metro over to the Institute building ALL BY MYSELF! Woot Woot! Don't worry, that's not something I'll make a habit out of, but it was just nice for me to know that I could do it and I didn't need help. Maybe I am evolving into an Adult, after all! 

Next was History of the Church in France, with Brother Euvrard as our teacher. He was really funny (and had a killer tenor voice, too--when we sang an opening hymn it felt like having a guest member of MoTab with us!!) but unfortunately, the lasting impression I have of that lesson was how unbearably hot the room was. Even with the windows open, everyone was dying. The heat was basically all any of us could think about. I doodled this little thing in the corner of my notes: 

That last little puddle perfectly sums up the rest of the day, heat-wise.

Brother Euvrard's class finished up at about 3:00, but we still had one more class that day: Art History, which would involve a field trip to the Musee du Cluny beginning at 3:30. Which meant walking.

By this point, of course, the heat had moved well beyond Slightly Too Warm For Comfort and landed us at Firmly Nestled in Satan's Armpit. Sweat was pouring from us so hard we could have raised the level of the Seine by an inch at least. I should also include that, as we walked, we realized that we were barely going to have enough time to get to the museum, and we started RUNNING, with backpacks on--which I managed to snap a shot of. Hey, Grace:

We got to the museum on time (phew!) but as soon as we got there, I remembered something very unfortunate.

Short storytime break! Once upon a time, when my family went to California, we spent an afternoon at the beach. We played in the ocean for about an hour or so, but after a while my mom started to notice that I was getting red welts on my shoulders and neck, and she made me get out. Anyway, that's how I found out that I'm allergic to salt water.

What does that have to do with Monday, you ask? Well, you see, the consequence of my allergy is that not only do I get welts when I get in the ocean--I get welts whenever I sweat too much.

Since I was practically dripping, you can guess how uncomfortable that museum visit was for me.

We moved into the courtyard of the museum, and I tried desperately not to scratch, as our teacher Bernie explained to us that this museum, which housed historic relics from Roman times through the Medieval Period, was once a sort of hotel for . . . monks, I think? It was really cool-looking: 

On the inside there was a lot of cool history, like this super-neat room from a Roman bathhouse:

And this cool ivory-carved box that was even more intricate than it looks in the picture:

But oh my gosh.

There was also this guy, who is clearly confused about why he's on the wall and not helping kidnap Queen Amidala:

Oh, and then we came to this beautiful room full of stained glass:

But all of it was done in the thirteenth/fourteenth century, which means medieval art galore. And, as I've mentioned before, I have the maturity of a twelve year old boy when it comes to observing medieval art. Therefore, I now declare this Incorrect Caption Hour at the Musee du Cluny!

Tapestries are not exempted from the Caption Hour treatment, either.

Okay, I think I'm done for now. (Side note: is that . . . a werewolf in that last one?)

There was some really ornate and intricate stuff too, like these tiny castle things:

And this crazy-ornate jewelry box:

That's about it for the museum. Even though nothing over here is air-conditioned, it was nice to be out of the sun for a while. It made my itchiness go away, at least. 

After class, Quincy, Anisa, Anna and I went out to find dinner. We stopped in at a pizza/pasta place and I ordered the literal one thing on the menu that didn't have tomatoes: this seafood pasta.

(Okay, well, it did have a couple tomatoes, but I just picked those out.)

Yes, there really is pasta beneath all that. It was actually really really good! I love fishy things.

The waiter was not very nice, though, and he took a reaallllly long time to come back and take our money after we got the check (like fifteen minutes of just walking past us every time we waved). We also saw him totally check out some girl on the street while he was taking somebody else's order, and then Anisa noticed that he had a ring on his finger. Loooooseerrrr.

It's okay, though, because even bad waiters cannot compete with the overt GORGEOUSNESS that is Paris!

Anyway, as our final event of the day, we stopped in at Amorino's again (because after such a long, hot day, we really needed some gelato, y'know?) And I was so excited to taste this:

Stracciatella, mango, and nutella. It looked and tasted sooooo good!

For about three minutes.

Then this happened. 

There was no ice cream inside the cone. The lady at Amorino's had just plopped it all on top. So after approximately five licks, my gelato dreams died on the icky floor of the metro station and I was left with an entirely empty cone, plus brown ice cream smeared down my (bright yellow) shirt. Everyone stared at me and all I could do was kind of just:

jk, I didn't actually cry. But I kinda wanted to. 

For the hour-long commute home, I just wore my backpack across my front to hide the embarrassing stain and wondered why bad things happen to good people.

Well, that was my Monday! Because I know this post didn't have any pictures of me (there will be more in the next post!), here's one from last Friday at the Pont des Arts! 

Oh, hey look. It's me holding an ice cream cone that DIDN'T commit suicide. Good times.

I dreamed a dream in time gone byyyy . . . 

When ice cream didn't fall on the floooorr . . .

I dreamed that treats would never diiiiie . . .

I wish I could have gone back for moooooore . . .

Okay, I'd better wrap this up now. Song for tonight: "Je ne regrette rien" (I Regret Nothing), because I really need to get over that whole Amorino tragedy.

I love you all! May your ice cream stay on its cone, today and always!