As the break of the third day, I could feel the aches residing in my feet. All the heavy duty walking and hiking had taken their toll on my sedentary disposition. The effects of our hectic schedule were also visible on Sadia who slept for longer hours from night to morning.
The first destination of the day - Eiffel Tower - entailed hopping from one Metro service to another, which engaged us in some more tunnel-hiking and lifting exercises. Since we were not THAT well-versed with the Metro system, we ended up taking the wrong - not to mention, superfluous - Metros, instead of a direct service to Eiffel that would land us at Trocadéro, a closer stop to Eiffel.
Our 'roundabout' way led us to the Bir-Hakeim stop which was quite a distance away from Tour Eiffel. As expected, the place was already crawling with tourists. A long line for tickets snaked through the grounds right underneath the tower, where we had sat on one of those cement slabs they fashioned into benches, chugalugging our current favourite drink, French-made Orangina. 
With the sad realisation that the swarm of holidaymakers - post-Bastille Day celebration, summer AND Le Tour De France - would not let up anytime soon, we ambled away from the hullabaloo and advanced towards the direction of Palais de Chaillot, which is also called the Trocadéro after the hill upon which the Palace was erected (as previously mentioned, the Trocadéro Metro stop is practically right outside the Palace!). We however planned to come to Eiffel Tower the following night to view its spectacular lightings.
At the foot of the Trocadéro hill, we came upon a lovely old-fashioned French carousel with stairs and decided, after the hustle and bustle at Disney, we should at least enjoy one ride on our own - all three of us. We paid this sullen-looking gypsy at a makeshift booth and the merry-go-round was solely ours, albeit for about five measly minutes!
On top of the Palais de Chaillot, the view of Paris skyline with the Eiffel Tower as the focal point, was breathtaking as it was spellbinding. When we arrived on top of the terrace, a Polish dance troupe was performing which attracted a large number of people. Here's a short clip of the traditional performance. Like other visitors, we ate our snack - Nutella-filled crepes - at the low-lying seats on the expansive terrace. These crepes substantially helped to tide us over before a 'real' lunch, and Sadia in the meantime enjoyed feeding the pigeons some cookie crumbs.
By the time we finished, the sweltering in-your-face kind of heat prodded us to take shelter and relax at an air-conditioned location. The only copacetic, baby-friendly place we could think of was none other than Lina's Cafe (again) in Galeries Lafayette. We needed to put Sadia down for a nap and the quiet ambience there was the best, bar none.
Clockwork that she is, Sadia dozed off by the time we settled down in Lina's and thereon ordered another round of tuna toasties. I lined up at the self-service counter where a sourfaced Vietnamese staff hesitantly attended to me. She curtly informed me that my favourite tuna dish had already finished. Finished, finished? I parroted her, in disbelief. When her superior offered an alternative tuna baguette, I emphatically said Yes. As my baguette was being grilled, the Vietnamese lady eyed me suspiciously and spoke French to her Black colleague whom she managed to convince to ask me this : Am I Cambodian? I replied in the negative and said Malaysian. The lady suddenly turned silent. Probably she thought I was a Vietnamese snob.
Following the late lunch, hubby made his round at the menstore of Galeries crossing the flyover from the main store where we were. As I sat there immersing myself in the panoramic view from the fourth floor (was it fifth?), a Chinese lady with flaxen hair (that is such a contradication in terms) and a Spanish guy - both Americans from their accent - sat down by the table next to mine. I was peeved because (1) my toddler was fast asleep, (2) many other tables were empty and (3) the lady yakked loudly, spilling her heart out oblivious to her relatively peaceful surroundings. Or so I thought.
As she was the only English speaking patron - and talking at the top of her lungs, I might add - sitting next to my table, I could not but hear bits and pieces of her conversation. That she is in fact a Malaysian-born whose parents have long migrated to California, thus explaining the strong American accent, and she kept putting Malaysia down as some kind of communist country who put people in jail for no good reason (the jury is still out of that one though) and how her family was discriminated back in Malaysia. Despite the condescension and lack of tact for my 'Malay-like' presence, I was highly amused by a personal observation - the number of times she used 'like' and 'you know' as intensifier in her sentences. The frequency was such that I lost count! For instance, "In Malaysia, you'll like be put in jail if you like talk badly about the Prime Minister, you know".
When Sadia stirred from her kip, they finally went away. What great timing! Shortly after that, we quickly made our way to the second and last destination of the day - the Musee de Louvre. Thanks to my misplaced confidence in direction, we lost our bearing again somewhere at the end row of Printemps. At a traffic light crossing, an old French gentleman passing by offered to be of help whilst I struggled with the city map, and kindly showed us the correct way. We doubled back towards the right direction with the Paris Opera House as the landmark upon which we must follow. "At the opera house, go straight until you reach Palais-Royal" In my opinion, the baroque-styled Paris Opera House is yet another opulent and ornate example of French architecture. Indeed, I was mesmerized by its sheer beauty.
Along the way to Louvre, we stumbled upon another Starbucks which brought back that schoolgirl giddy side of me again. Haha. We almost bought another cuppa if it were not for the long queue (what's with Paris and drawn-out lines anyway?!) to order. Alas, it was not meant to be. This outlet remained to be the second and last one I saw in Paris, excluding the one on St Germain the previous day.
After approaching Palais Royal and its crowded Metro stop, the Louvre was at last on the horizon! Upon entering the Louvre compound, a magnificent plaza replete with wading pool cum fountains welcome us. This vast public square was flanked on its three sides by the Louvre's extensive museum complex. It was a beautiful day - hot but still beautiful.
We sprinted to the Pyramid entrance where tight security procedure involving scanning of bags and belongings took place. The guard at the door singled us out and let us through first. Since we brought along a stroller, I guess we were considered 'safe'. And also thanks to the buggy, a nifty, open-air 'deck' lift carried us down to the ground floor where we could purchase tickets. We need not take the escalators or stairs down like everybody else.
After we got the tickets at the automated ticketing machine, we refreshed for a while at the cafe across the Louvre bookstore, also on the same floor. In actuality, one could just go down to the ground floor and wander around the bookstore without paying for the tickets. This makes me wonder if anyone could sneak in without paying...
We thereafter dove into our main task and for that purpose, scurried straight to the gallery wing that houses her - the Mona Lisa! Here, the crowd was NOT as stifling as I had read over the Internet. In fact, an almost unremitting display of camera flashes raided the world's famous painting. Unlike other museums I've been to, it is permissible to take photos anywhere (at least to my knowledge) in the Louvre. Sadia even ate her breadsticks in one of the long hallways for goodness sake! They are apparently quite lax about these things for reasons that are beyond me. Too many people to contend with?
I was however somewhat disappointed by my viewing of Mona Lisa. Sure it is bestowed with that special treatment - encased in a bulletproof glass - but the 'half-portrait' size left me wanting. To me, the painting's dimension itself proves to be insufficent for a deserving appreciation of the 'enigmatic' damsel.
We sprinted to the next wing for viewing of Dutch-related paintings and found a favourite of hubby's - Vermeer's famous work, The Astronomer. A running theme seems to be in a slew of paintings here. Lots with cows in them, we observed. Very Dutch - rustic and idyllic. Towards the end of this gallery, Sadia showed signs of restlessness to which we wisely heeded. 
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Exiting the pyramid entrance, we soaked our weary feet in the pool's cold water which was too cold for Sadia's taste. Sadia thereon let off steam, scuttling on the Plaza's enormous grounds which caused one scrape or two on her knees. 
Amidst the scorching sun and rising temperatures, we yielded to our survival instincts and called it a day. Since the Louvre is a walking distance away from our river crossing at Chatelet, we decided to walk back to the hotel. 
It was at the first bridge right in front of the Louvre that we saw a group of people leaning against the side of the bridge. I was apprehensive of them at first, trying my best to avoid their gazes. But a familiar figure struck my attention. By the end of the passing, my husband then asked for confirmation, "Is that Karl Lagerfeld?" "Yes, it is!" I guffawed, causing Lagerfeld's minions to look back in horror. We quickly snapped a photo for posterity at the other side of the bridge. :) My husband first noticed Lagerfeld when he sheepishly pointed to our Sadia in the pram. Did Sadia appeal to his artistic sensibility? :D
The saunter along the riverbank had a tranquilising effect on our hitherto stressful day as we viewed a throng of activities and grand buildings such as the great, arresting cupola of the French Institute. Also enroute home, we stopped by La Fontaine Saint-Michel, one of the famous fountains in Paris, with a majestic towering facade to boot.
On that memorable 'fashionable' note, we ended our third day filled with a set of cultural, musical and aesthetic experiences.
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