August 11, 1985

August 11

We had a real good breakfast of hot chocolate, French bread, and jam and butter. We took the metro to the Louvre. We saw quite a few famous paintings (the Mona Lisa, Madonna of the Rocks, etc) and many nice ones. Then we walked through the park across the street, down the Champs d’Elysee and had lunch at FreeTime a fast food place. Then we went to the Arc de Triomphe and Cherie and I went to the top. We got pictures for once, too. We used the little telescope things. You could see into the houses across the street. Then we walked to the Metro and went to the Pompidou Centre. Outside were many mimes and jugglers and other performers. One mime and two jugglers were really good. Saw the two Norwegian girls.

There were these two little twits in the Centre using pea shooters. They were aiming at me so I told them off. They shot some so I followed them. They just got away from me only to find dad in front of them asking them if they needed a kick up the ass. I bought some Marilyn Monroe postcards (and got in trouble for it) and we walked to Les Halles. We walked around. I asked for a pen, got snapped at and went to wait for them at this ugly statue. The place was interesting but not if someone is always screaming at you.

My French came in handy cos all these black guys were trying to get my attention. Finally one came over and started talking French to me so I said “J’attends mes parents S.V.P.” so he left. Then we walked around in semi silence looking for a restaurant but ended up going back to the hotel to “rest up”. Today I “got” to wear Cherie’s shorts – but only because she wanted to wear my T-shirt. It’s always only when it suits her.

We went out to go for supper but everything was closed. Dad doesn’t say what he wants to do but opposes everything or agrees with a martyr like “as long as there is no bitchin’” or “as long as everyone is happy.” Mum keeps sighing, saying she has a headache and Cherie insists on leaving for eating every five minutes. We have only six days left together but all we do is argue. We can never just forget it and start fresh or say sorry. Dad said something about we’re always bitching and hassling and mum said well you only have 8 days left of it.” Dad just sat there with his eyes closed and his head in his hand. I wish we could just say sorry and not be so mean to each other. Sometimes I just feel like killing myself but then I think one day I won’t have to worry about this. I don’t know what it would take to bring us all together. When we walk it’s always mum and Cherie (who always walks beside her) then dad (beside mum if the sidewalk is big enough for three – if not either he’s behind mum or Cherie is hot on their heels) I either walk far in front or far behind. It seems the only time we talk to each other is to yell or say something mean.

Later – I just remembered when we first went to Les Halles a bird pooped on my head. We went for supper and then went to look for a new hotel. We have to return in the morning. At hotel de Carmes I met some British people (2 girls and a guy) and an American guy. I spoke French to them then they asked after looking baffled if I was English. We stopped at a café for a drink then went home by Metro. Everyone was in a better mood, fortunately. It has been a little rainy today and quite cool, a pleasant change from the blasting heat of Greece, Italy and Yugoslavian trains.

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