Another interesting thing about Paris is that you don't see long lines of taxis idling away near the train stations - or anywhere for that matter. Our first task (after ridding ourselve
s of unnecessary baggage in the luggage lockers) was to find a taxi to take us to the Musee D'Orsay. It was easier said than done. We spied a taxi near a hotel near Gare de Lyon, but alas, it was taken. While Alex used her wiles to convince the concierge of the hotel to call us a taxi, Louise entertained herself by taking pictures of (a) a nearby hostel in honor of Ian's adventures in SA;
s of unnecessary baggage in the luggage lockers) was to find a taxi to take us to the Musee D'Orsay. It was easier said than done. We spied a taxi near a hotel near Gare de Lyon, but alas, it was taken. While Alex used her wiles to convince the concierge of the hotel to call us a taxi, Louise entertained herself by taking pictures of (a) a nearby hostel in honor of Ian's adventures in SA;
(b) the hotel restaurant menu featuring wine from Mendoza, Argentina (again in honor of Ian's adventures);
and (c) the back of the train station.
By this time Jim and Alex were thoroughly disgusted with me. However, Alex had prevailed and we were off to Musee D'Orsay.
