Well, I had my first semi-frightening moment on the Metro today. I popped into a car only to find myself in an already tense situation. A bum was swilling from a bottle of wine and cursing at the top of his lungs. At least I understood merde, and assume the other words were curses. I figured no problem--this is just like any day in San Francisco. But then he pulled out one of those serious looking, wood shafted Euro knives. Everyone had already been paying attention to him, but this seemed to cause everyone in the car to sit up a bit and pay attention. Not to worry, though; he soon took off his boot and went to work repairing the sole, singing something about shoes or wine or something like that. The next stop all 20 of us in the car emptied out, just in case any of us looked like a pair of boots. Pictures today are of a girl sculpture in front of the Petite Palace, a rather large and unexplained gold statue holding a tiny dancer (or genie) in it's hand, that I found way out by the peripherique. There is also a picture of the Tuileries in snow, and of a boy about to joyfully murder a carp from the Pont Alexander, the most beautiful bridge in the world (sorry Golden Gate, Ponte Vecchio, Charles Bridge and Tower Bridges, but it's really no contest.
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