Today was our last day in Paris. We got up early, walked to the Musee d'Orsay and saw the Monet's, Manet's, Van Gogh's, etc. I liked the selection in that museum a lot more than in the Louvre. We stopped on the way back to the hotel and got a delicious quiche to eat on the way. I'm finally developing a taste for the Coke Light.

Paris was wonderful. It was so pretty and historic and practical. I didn't understand 99.9% of the language, but I loved listening to it. I can't wait to go back. There is so much more there that I want to see. Scott liked it too, and although we easily could have stayed longer...London was calling. So we grabbed our bags and jumped on the metro, headed for the Eurostar.

The train-station was very Platform 9 3/4. We got there early, which was a good thing because customs is a pain in the ass. A necessary pain in the ass, but a pain in the ass nonetheless. Even though we were techinically still in France, we had to enter the rail station as if we were entering the UK, which means luggage scans, passport scans and stamps, metal detectors, and questions about what you intend to do in the UK. It's a lot of jumping from line to line presenting different documents. I was crashing at this point, and was looking forward to just sitting on a train for a couple of hours, even if it does go under the ocean floor.

Here's something interesting I noticed. We immediately started coming across more English speaking people, but I still found myself defaulting to Merci and Pardon when interacting with people. It was weird. And I was looking at English signs and saying them in my head with a French pronounciation. That was gone by the time we got on the train, though. On the train, I crashed. I don't remember the part of the trip under the ocean floor, because I was asleep.

Our train dropped us in London around 2:30 PM local time, and a nice English gentleman helped us get a cab. I loved our cab driver. He had this gravelly English accent and drove like a maniac. He literally did a U-turn in a fairly busy street. It was awesome. He dropped a "f***ing hell" pretty quickly in regards to the traffic and was asking us about our trip. He asked us how we felt about Obama and the s***ty exchange rate between Dollars and Pounds. He was even b****ing about how many quid people where throwing down just to see the trees in the courtyard where the royal wedding took place. He was the perfect introduction to London. He dropped us at Westminster Abbey which is a short 5 minute walk from our hotel. Like I said, this is a very touristy spot...so it is crowded!

The bells at Westminster Abbey were ringing when we got out of the cab...and they didn't stop for 30 minutes. No joke. It was madness. And they are loud. The central air isn't working properly in our room, but we have a corner room with a ton of windows that open, so it works out...except when the bells are ringing. Apparently they rang for 3 hours for the royal wedding. Scott has finally crashed. Instead of 6 hours ahead of OH time (Paris) we are only 5 hours ahead in London. I have no idea what we have planned for tomorrow. I'm liking London so far, thanks in large part to the cab driver. He reminded me a lot of Karl Pilkington.