This is me.
This is me.
In a public toilette, aka the nicest portapotty in existence ever.
Which took Jessica and me a full 25 minutes to figure out how to use.
I started by asking a pharmacist "Oo son las toilettes?" in broken french and he pointed a general direction. Sweet. Finally found them and waited in line. I went in after a man, but couldn't figure out how to shut the automatic sliding door. I tried everything, but all it would do was beep and yell at me in French. I DON'T SPEAK FRENCH. Finally the doors started closing, I unbuttoned my pants, and the door opened again. Exasperated, I stepped out and read the sign on the front. Oh. In English it explained that the potty does a full wash cycle after every single use, dousing the floors and the entire inside. So I had to wait for the wash cycle to finish, go in, close the doors, use the bathroom, choose the "size of my flush," put my hands under the faucet that dispensed soap, then water, then dried them, and then press the doors to open again. It was quite the ordeal.
This incident occurred while the rest of our group was waiting in line for the catacombs. That's right. We walked through the bone tunnels of underground Paris.
When I say "bone tunnels" I literally mean kilometers and kilometers of paths lined with...bones. About 5 feet high and 5 feet deep, it looked. Corridors and corridors of bone piles. They dug up the graveyards of Paris a few centuries ago and stuck them down here. I probably should have felt more disturbed or creeped out, but I just thought it was the neatest thing ever! Best 4 euros I've spent yet.
On a similar note.....................
...............................we then went to the aquarium.