My Life After Paris: Livin' in the Fast Lane

Sunrise: 8:01
Vocab:
plier - to fold

la brume - fog

In a little over a week, I've gone from having a decent amount to report to having decidedly too much to share. What have I done recently? Well, I've gone to Paris, I've suffered a bout of some mysterious illness (grippe AHH?!), attended a French surprise birthday party, and most recently, returned from a two day jaunt to see some of the chateaux of the Loire Valley. Between Paris and the chateaux, I've taken over 500 photos. I've discovered that I love taking high-contrast color saturated photos and I become vexed when the sun starts to set and the lighting ne convient pas for the "Vivid Colors" setting on my camera. On the other hand, I've also discovered how much I love taking photos in sepia. Please do not judge me for this. If you had just spent two days in enchanted forests, you would have wanted to take sepia photos, too. It's only natural.

I have my first exam at the fac coming up this Thursday and I'm going to tuer le cochon avec Angèle this coming weekend. I can only write in simple declarative sentences because I hardly know where to start (let alone where to finish!).

I guess I'd better start with Paris. First of all, I know this is maybe a cop out, but I've opened a new photobucket account called theainfrance -- pretty clever, I know -- to create photo albums for my big trips like Paris and the Loire (and so that I don't have to narrow down my photo selections quite as much). I know the photo blog entries are fun and pleasing to the eye and I promise they have not died, but I think we'll all be much happier this way. Paris photos should be up presently, followed swiftly by photos from the chateaux. And so, without further ado, my slightly scattered thoughts on Paris:

Thursday Night: Strangers on the Train

Getting to the train station would have been a cinch if we hadn't stopped at McDo for dinner. I should note that I had nothing to do with the choice of restaurant as I had lately enjoyed the last of my tabouleh, carrot rapé, cheese, and bread at the IES center. We spent about fifteen minutes waiting on a five or six person line and waited easily another twenty for...what? the intense culinary preparation required by a filet o' fish and two p'tit wraps? While we waited we waxed poetic on the inefficiency of many (most?!) French establishments and wistfully lamented the lack of Good Old American Capitalism...which would soon become one of the major themes of our trip.

At any rate, we made it to the train station with time to spare: Emily and Leah ate their sandwiches in peace and I had time to pick up a pre-train café au lait with whipped cream. The sound that precedes every SNCF announcement never fails to terrify me; in a minor key, it could easily precede the entrance of a legendary villain. I'm not sure which one, but it totally works. I managed not to die of fright before the arrival on our train, and after boarding we found ourselves in a pleasant purple and orange car sitting directly across from one of the cutest little girls in France. After about an hour of reading my book and goofing off, I decided to try and make a new friend, so I started folding origami cranes. My neighbor had been looking bored for quite some time so I wasn't at all surprised to notice her clandestine glances at my folding. When I finished, she could barely conceal her awe, and so I offered to teach her. Although I quickly discovered that explaining origami is nigh impossible when you don't remember the French word for "fold," we managed and by the end of my second crane, I had made a new French friend.

Her name was Laurie and she was off to Paris to watch her friend compete in -- of all things -- a double dutch tournament. Laurie was traveling with her friend's mom, who also started to chat with us. All in all, two hours well spent -- a little bit of last-minute French practice before spending the weekend speaking English almost exclusively. We connected with Emily's friend Theresa, you see, in the Paris train station. Theresa is studying in Italy this semester and does not speak a word of French...and it should basically go with out saying that most of the shopkeepers refused to speak a word of French to any of us.

The metro was a breeze. One look at a map and I knew what to do. One foot set in the tunnel and I felt at home. The rhythm of the Paris metro reminded me so strongly of my home subways that, I have to admit, I felt a pang of homesickness. We found our hotel just around the corner from the metro stop (a small blessing since, in the 19th arrondissement, we were not close to anything else). Hotel Crimée. The name looks sketchier than the hotel actually was. Crimée has nothing to do with the amount of crime besieging the hotel, but with the Crimean War. The rooms were small and the bathrooms oddly proportioned, but they did the trick for our purposes (sleeping, mainly) and the music channels on the T.V. provided some very useful insights into French pop culture.

Friday: The Real Paris

We commenced our first full day in Paris with a traipse around Monmartre, just one arrondissement over. After a couple victory!-we're-in-Paris pastries, we headed up to Sacré Coeur. Armed with a metro map and a pocket map of Paris, we could not wander astray, but we took the following intrepid approach in Montmartre: go up the hill! And later: go down the hill! It was as effective as you would imagine, which is to say, very. (I'd like to take a brief pause here to apologize for my syntax; I don't know what's gotten into me.) Upon reaching the top of the hill, Sacre Coeur's imposing facade confronted us...confronted is too strong of a word. I wouldn't say it welcomed us. I'll go with greeted. A legless man sitting in a wheelchair barked genially into a microphone while fashioning little dogs out of yarn; two boys showed off playing with Chinese yo- yos; a man dressed all in red struck up a tune on the didgeridoo.

Even on such a foggy day, the hilltop presented an incredible view of Paris (perhaps all the more incredible cloaked in mystery as it was). The crypt at Sacré Coeur was closed, but at the very least we got to see the main church which was lovely. We didn't dawdle, though; we had too much too see. Following our ecclesiastical introduction to Paris, we promptly headed down the hill in search of windmills (moulins)...you know...the red light district. Don't make me spell it out. At the bottom of the hill we found Moulin Rouge and Starbucks! Emily couldn't have been happier to "taste a little capitalism."

After a photo shoot in front of the Moulin Rouge with our Starbucks, we met up with Anna, one of my friends from Haverford and freshman-year-suitemate extraordinaire! She took us to the Montmartre Cemetery and showed us Hector Berlioz's grave. Even in the midst my recent existential ponderings, at that moment I just couldn't feel the weight of my own mortality; all I could think was how beautiful all the tombs were. And how oddly disorganized! Considering they take the time to sculpt their trees into rectangles here, you'd think they could line their graves up a little better.

From Montmartre, we hopped the metro to the opera house and from there proceeded to march all over the city, pausing for the occasional photo op. Our most notable photo op might have been at the Jardain des Tuileries, which, for some unexplained reason, hosts a display of monstrous oversized silver heads which could easily have sprung from the mind of one Tim Burton. We also took a turn around the Marais, the third arrondissement, upon my request. I can't remember what I was expecting to find there, exactly. The Marais is home to one of the largest Jewish neighborhoods in Paris. Also one of the gayest neighborhoods in Paris. We saw lots of Orthodox Jews, but their sexual identities remained unclear. I should mention that we spent the entire weekend playing "Gay or European?" It is not an easy game. Not all was lost, though! We took a spin by Place des Vosges and peered into the windows of the high-end boutiques that were much too classy for our American sneakers.

We rounded out our first day in Paris with pizza at an Italian (?!) restaurant and a walk by the twinkling Eiffel Tower.

Saturday: One Museum, Two Museums, FREE MUSEUMS!

I'm sorry, that pun is so bad it's probably not really a pun, but I think you'll understand my excitement when I tell you we spent our Saturday at the Louvre and Orsay museums for free! Thanks to (grâce à) our student IDs, we received the EU student treatment: eye-rolls followed by free tickets. This installment will go a bit faster since I'm not sure it's worth it to rehash every piece of art we saw. Suffice it to say, I saw the Venus de Milo, gawked at the crowd around the Mona Lisa (which is tiny!), found a bust of Benjamin Franklin (they seriously love that man here), and visited some ancient temples from Egypt and Mesopotamia.

Yes, the Louvre was incredible, huge, intimidating, formidable, but I think I liked the Orsay more. Set up in an old train station, the Orsay is home to more recent works of art, including paintings by some of my favorite impressionists (I mean, seriously, this is France). We traipsed through the current exhibit on Art Nouveau, which turned out to be a poor choice. The psychedelica room may have pushed us beyond our museum tolerance. We bought some postcards and headed out. Oh, but that didn't mean we had run out of steam. We went shopping after that.

I should also mention that I'd had to start the day buying some mysterious French cough syrup. I hadn't wanted to admit to myself how sick I was starting to feel, but as dinner rolled around, it was starting to get rough. I made it to (and through!) dinner, though. We ate at the Restaurant Chartiers, on the recommendation of my Let's Go! France (an absolutely invaluable addition to our team). The 45-minute wait was absolutely worth it. My camera had died at that point, so I felt the need to scribble something in my notebook. Here's what I managed to get down before our waiter unceremoniously tossed us out (they were turning tables like there was no tomorrow): "mirror windows, gilded walls, carnage on the table." It was seriously the most satisfying steak frites I have ever had the pleasure of eating. I didn't even care that our waiter mainly spent the evening yelling at us: "You have 2 minutes to decide and 4 to eat! I need to get home to my wife!" At first we thought he was joking...

We walked from the opera district all the way to the Champs Elysées, ending with a view of the illuminated Arc de Triomphe. We like to do our major monuments at night.

Sunday: La Grippe AHH!

My body finally succumbed on Sunday. I woke up with a pounding headache and could not stay standing for more than 30 seconds at a time. I had to pass on the Rodin in favor of spending the day alternately sleeping and watching top 40 music videos -- in other words, au lit.

In spite of the somewhat inhospitable bald concierge who always had the night shift, Hotel Crimee turned into a nice little home away from home.

Monday: Au Revoir, Paris!

Our last day in Paris began in much the same way as our first: in Montmartre. We picked the first brasserie we saw and went in for some brunch. As it turned out, we'd picked the local bar. As we waited for our chocolat viennois and croque monsieurs, lots of old men shuffled in and out, yelling at the bartender and then at each other -- geneially, of course. For the first time since our arrival, our hosts addressed us in French (up until the end, when another bartender said, "bye bye!"). Well, somehow we'd also managed to fake it pretty well at the hotel.

Bellies full, we headed back up towards Sacré Coeur to explore some of the shops we'd seen on the first day. Afterwards, we headed over to Ile de la Cité for a glimpse at Notre Dame and a peek at Sainte Chapelle. We had to go through the National Guard to get inside. On the bright side, they accidentally gave us free tickets. I had quickly discovered that holding up my University of Nantes ID, looking slightly confused, and asking if there was a "reduction" for students would often land me free tickets. Joined by my friend Maud, from high school, we ogled the stained glass for a while, and then headed over to the fifth arrondissement for our second round of hot chocolate.

After a delightful lunch, it was time to head back to Montparnasse and catch our train. I left the city sick, tired, and thoroughly content. For once in my life, I had embraced the chance to be a flagrant tourist, and it was marvelous.