Paris!! Hurrah!
First of all, the flat, which was perfect. It was in Saint Germain-des-Pres, a very arty area just across the Seine from the Louvre.
It faced into a courtyard, so it was nice and quiet. 
You could get to the courtyard from two streets, both of which were thick with art galleries. The whole area was lively and interesting. Here's the man doing his card tricks:
On the first day Chris and I "did" Montmartre: Sacre Coeur, the Montmartre cemetery, Moulin Rouge and all points between. Pictures:
Lots of lovely little cafes. 
And a whole street of fabric shops. Here, a belly-dancer picks out a new outfit.
The cemetery was fascinating.
This was a mystery grave: brand new, obviously, and the name was Depardieu. A member of the actor's family? No idea.
A lot of the tombs have fallen into disrepair, but still have beautiful mosaics inside.
Yes, the Moulin Rouge is a real place.
Sacre Coeur, which you'll be seeing a bit of. It's particularly lovely against a strong blue sky.
At the bottom of the hill is another Paris landmark: Tati, the Paris equivalent of Warehouse or Poundstretcher. One great huge bargain bin. We didn't buy anything: I was scared of being electrocuted, there was so much nylon in there. However, Chris found some fantastic shoes:
Speaking of shopping, Chris had a thrill when she found the very handbag she'd bought in Tuscany on sale for twice the price in a shop just down the road from the flat:
Weirdly enough, shortly before leaving for Paris I was gripped by a strong urge to buy a red handbag. We loved our bags -- Chris decided we were "Les Soeures du Sac a Main Rouge".
Versailles:
First of all: it's huge. The palace is huge, the grounds are vast. The scale of everything is overwhelming: the number of staff in its heyday, the cost of restoration, the amount of gilt, the number of paintings, everything. I kept imagining how it must have all seemed to the sans-culottes during the Revolution: they were just asking for enough bread to stay alive, and here was the king, living in unimaginable splendour.
Second: It was hot. Really hot. I'd like to go back and walk around the grounds on a cooler day. As it was we were too knackered to go to the Petit Trianon. We did see the Grand Trianon, though the place with the pretty pink columns. You could hire row-boats and go for a burl round the Grand Canal, which would be nice.
We were just too tired. Really.
Next day, we hit the Pompidou Centre.
In the first picture you can just see Chris walking off down the corridor -- the escalators are all on the outside of the building in perspex tubes -- and Sacre Coeur on the left. We saw a photographic exhibition (Jacques Lartigue), then broke for lunch before seeing one floor of the permanent exhibition. After that we went out and scoured the streets for a padded envelope before returning with just enough time to visit the last floor before closing time. The second picture is of two Miro paintings (my favourite artist) and the third is me in a room-sized artwork, whose creator's name I've forgotten. Loved it, though!
The envelope was for Chris to send her films off to NZ to avoid taking them through airport X-ray machines. It's amazing how difficult it is to find seemingly ordinary things in a strange city. We finally found one in the BHV department store: we had barely five minutes to search a five-storey building!
At some point, I forget exactly when, we visited Sainte Chapelle, an astounding church tucked away amid the courts of justice. It was built about 900 years ago to house the Crown of Thorns, which the king had bought along with a load of other relics, including a piece of the True Cross. Woo! All that disappeared during the Revolution, and the church was damaged, but it's still amazing. It had the most beautiful windows, mainly in shades of red and blue, and the walls and columns etc are gorgeous rich deep colours with lots of gilt. No flash, of course, so almost impossible to photograph, but I had a go:
The next morning Chris left for London. I decided a good way to get around for a couple of days was the Batobus, a service that does a circular route on the Seine all day, with eight stops. You can get on and off the boat as many times as you like.
My first stop was the Musee d'Orsay, just upriver from St-Germain-des-Pres. To get there I sailed downriver to the Jardin des Plantes, then all the way back up the river to the Eiffel Tower, then back down again. Tremendous way to travel, most relaxing!
There was also a lot to see on the river, like the wonderful houseboats lining the quays, the elaborate bateaux mouches powering up and down, the working barges, and ahem, the firefighters, Pompiers de Paris. Ooooh er! What's the French for "hose me down, I'm on fire"?
So, Musee d'Orsay. This was my favourite art gallery, an old railway station whose platforms were too narrow for modern trains. It's a wonderful building, it must have been amazing to arrive there. But it's also a brilliant gallery, with all kinds of little architectural surprises, like a balcony with stunning views. Of Sacre Coeur, natch.
I thought this statue was the gayest thing in Paris. Pan playing with little bears. Totally gay.
I stopped off at Notre Dame de Paris, as one does, but it was horrible. There was a service in progress, but that didn't stop the mobs of gawping tourists taking flash photos and yattering on their constantly ringing phones. I swear people were more respectful at the Eiffel Tower! At all the other churches they had minders shushing visitors and telling them off for flash photography, but at Notre Dame they seemed to have given up. Lovely building though.
The other big number of my to-do list was the Eiffel Tower. The queue was mind-boggling -- first you queued for a ticket, then you queued for a lift to the second level, then you queued for a lift to the top. I was going to walk up to the second level but ... you guessed it, it was too hot and I was tired.
The views were fab, truly stunning and worth all the queuing. I love that kind of Mechano-set construction, it's like the Forth Bridge. At night, at about 8pm, the tower is lit up like a sparkler. I made sure I was on a boat cruising past -- it was tacky but totally magical.
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