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| From Best of Paris |
Hi Yall,
I’ve posted what I think are the best of all of the photos I took while in Paris. Check them out and tell me what you think. I put them on Flickr.
Anyway, you can see them HERE.
Thanks a bunch, and enjoy.
~ Chris
My experience is that Charles de Gaulle International Airport rocks. It’s beautifully designed, easy to navigate, clean, and all of the customs teller booths are open. All of this while being number one in terms of aircraft movements in Europe with 552,721 landings and take-offs in 2007, just behind Frankfurt. Charles de Gaulle was also #1 in Europe in 2007 in terms of cargo traffic.
London Heathrow on the other hand is just stupid. Especially if you have a connecting flight. We experienced this on our way to and from Paris: you land in your terminal, and you deplane following the “Flight Connection” signs, and you walk about 2 kilometers to a whole other wing somewhere. At some point you start to feel as though you’re walking in a circle, and you know what? It’s because you ARE. The flight connection path bends back on itself, and leads back in the direction from which you came in a corridor parallel to the one you’ve just traversed, except now you get to clear security again. What? I just got off a plane, why am I … okay, whatever, here are my shoes.. And now you walk in this alter corridor back towards your terminal, to the gate right next to the one you just arrived in. Un real.
Frankfurt is filthy and smelly. Yuck. Enough said. Those of you who read my Poland blog 2007 got to hear all about that airport.
Zurich is nice. I’ll happily layover in Zurich. The signs are all in English, it’s very very clean (it’s Switzerland, after all) and you can get a good croissant there.
I’ve flown through almost every airport in the States, so I won’t even go there. None of them have the charm of Charles de Gaulle.
French Hard Drive makers, LaCie are currently featured in the Pompidou Center Museum of Modern Art.
Pretty Cool. Being that I own an army of these little suckers, I can now say that I backup fashionably.
Sad But True, click on this photo for a laugh.
Friday, May 9 – 10:46 pm
This post was written late at night after a few drinks, but in hindsight I’ve decided to post it anyway because it’s amusing, and at the same time being an Andy Rooney-esque rant, it’s also completely true.
Enjoy, or not. ~C
Can you spot the American guy?
I’ll bet you can. Here’s a hint: He’s overweight, he looks very very confused, he’s got no sense of style at all, and he finds the waitstaff annoying.
Here are a few observations about Parisians, and mind you that while these are generalizations, they are not grossly generalized. The comparison/contrast:
1. Parisians are in really good shape, male and female. There are very few overweight folk here, but very few. People tend to be very active, many of them ride bicycles around the city. There is 1 bicyclist for every 50 or so automobiles. Imagine that in an American city. Even more ridiculous, imagine a Californian riding a bike to work. Sure, we have bicycle enthusiasts, or a handful of people in Ojai who ride bikes as a workout, but I’m talking about the dentist, the owner of the local supermarket, the manager of the art gallery.. whatever. You see many a bicyclist here wearing a 3-piece suit, pedaling his or her way to the office. In fact there are these great municipal bicycle racks containing a dozen to two dozen bikes (organized like a sort of vending machine) scattered generously around the city. You put your city travel card in, and you’ve got a bicycle for as long as you need it, and your city travel account is charged accordingly. The bike tells the vending console that it has returned when you park it back in its rack. How refreshing!
Also, people consume far less processed foods here (as in the rest of Europe) and the portions are much smaller than they would be in the States. You can usually tell a tourist because he’s got the coke in his hand, the local has the bottle of Evian.
2. Parisians dress well. And I don’t mean fancy and expensive clothing either, I am suggesting that they dress as though there was some degree of thought put into assembling their outfits. They’re not wearing their sentimentally priceless Boston Red Sox T-Shirt, with the all-purpose pair of jeans and big white gym shoes. They may wear jeans, but they’re fitted, or have some form to them. Even young men still in their teens know how to match their belt to their shoes. And what is it with American men and gym shoes? I also own a big, bulky pair of white Reebok trainers that I like to wear while working out. If you want to come down to the Ojai Valley Athletic Center on Mon Wed and Friday evenings around 7pm, you’ll see me there wearing them while running on the treadmill. You will NOT however, ever ever ever see me wearing them in public. American men, white basketball sneakers are not casual wear. Not even ever. Also, the size XL T-shirt with the HUGE Nike logo on it, that’s for the gym too, not for your big date-night out with the girlfriend. And the backpack with the big freakin’ Costco logo on it? Yeah, that’s gotta go too. Do not wear the polo shirt with your boss’ company’s logo embossed in the front of it while walking around the Louvre. I truly believe that Americans are the only people on the planet who will actually wear (not to mention, purchase) a Budweiser T-Shirt. Are you kidding me? There’s a certain type of American male who’s idea of a “good shirt” is that there are no holes in it. Think a bit, you know one or two of those guys. In fact, you might just be one of those guys. There’s a reason the rest of the world believes that Americans are big stupid dufuses. It’s because we ARE big, stupid dufuses. I’m begging you, please pay some attention to what you’re wearing, how you look, and your opportunities will increase, trust me. A couple examples of really great dressers I know,: Mike Anderson, Katie Hendricks, Cynthia Matthews, Ania Vandzel, and of course, Pausha Foley. (no she didn’t make me type that.)
3. Another mark of the American: Understand that many waiters have picked up a bit of English, and many more of them are quite fluent with it, but don’t expect them to speak English. I learned this when getting to know Pausha, whose English in the beginning was dismal. Idioms are to be avoided, as are contractions, and slang. Your high-school French class did not include French slang, so try to remember that when talking to a waiter. If you are not going to bother learning any French pronunciation before you travel, at least remember that French is a romance language. Pick up a French cookbook before you travel so you will recognize the French words for Chicken, Beef, Lamb, etc. The more confident you feel when communicating with waitstaff, concierges, cab drivers, ticket takers at train stations, etc. the less of a jerk you will be while addressing them. If you’re insecure about ordering dinner, chances are you’re going to behave like a tool. I saw a fair share of tools ordering dinner.
4. Lastly, I would like to dispel a common myth that I have heard throughout my life, and one which I expected to experience while I was here, that the French are arrogant and rude to foreigners. THIS IS DEMONSTRABLY NOT TRUE. I have been repeatedly taken aback with the courtesy of the average French citizen. All Pausha and I had to do was pull out our map and look mildly confused, and some gentleman would come out of the woodwork to help us plot a course to the Metro stop we needed. Or the woman who took the effort to instruct me on the automated train ticket machine, or again the woman who tried to help me with the laundry system. I didn’t even ask for assistance, and there were gracious folk there to help. Additionally, I found waiters and waitresses to have infinite patience for the nervous foreigner attempting to properly pronounce “Rue St. Louis.” Look, you’re not pronouncing it correctly, so of course, they don’t know what you’re saying. They’re not being difficult, to them, you’re speaking unintelligibly, so don’t get mad at them… I digress. Some of the waiters we’ve had here have been certifiably insane, with off the wall senses of humor. We found this to be quite charming, and I can see how others may find it to be a sign of arrogance or impropriety, if one takes oneself too seriously, and doesn’t have a sense of humor, that is, but the bottom line is that if you’re going to behave like a tool, they will be rude to you. Duh. Additionally, waitstaff in America tend to border on sycophancy. You know the waiter at Applebee’s who comes by every 4 minutes to make sure you’re not dissatisfied with your cheeseburger yet? You’re not going to find that here. The waiter is not going to kiss your ass, nor should she. I have always found that sort of service distracting from enjoying my Happy Meal. On the other hand, here’s a bit of painful news: The waitress at Chili’s does not really like you. She’s being nice and attentive because she’s angling for a generous tip, and you’re going to give her one, because you’re trained too. In Paris there is no tipping, and there is no sales tax.
I believe that the major difference is presence. Americans are not present in the matter of our own lives, cruising through the day on full autopilot, stuffing our faces with whatever was in the box and looking like Mom dressed us.
Additionally, If you haven’t heard Bill Maher discuss the differences between the French and American people, you just ain’t living. Here it is, but be warned, there is some explicit language in this video…
Thursday, May 8 – Boi De Bologne
6:21 pm
We ventured out of town into “Zone 3” today to visit a public park system called Boi De Bologne. On the map is appeared lush and soft and wonderful. In reality is was really big, covered in the same sort of dusty gravel which covers most of the unpaved walkways in this city. We got off the train at the wrong stop, which added about 2 kilometers to our walk. There were tons of bugs and the pollen was falling visibly from the trees. It sucked. At first. And then…
The park opened up into this really cute place with benches and large patches of soft grass onto which many people had spread blankets for the purposes of picnicking or sunbathing. In the center was a small, man-made lake on which boaters could be seen enjoying the sun. Pausha, however was not enjoying the sun at all, and I believe she may have overdone the sun bit. She’s up in the hotel room now, while I sit in the laundromat washing some clothes.
Wednesday, May 7
11:00 pm - The Holy St. Sulpice Cathedral
Another Gothic Cathedral. This Cathedral was prominently featured in the book and movie The DaVinci Code. It’s really old, and really big, and really awe-inspiring. And really creepy. I did not take any photos inside because there were several people praying in the various chapels along the perimeter of the cathedral. The layout of this Cathedral was similar to Notre Dame, with the entrance in the front, and pews filling the center aisles leading up to the alter. The Sacristy off to one side near the confessionals, and the 12 stations of the cross depicted around the sides and back of the alter. Off to the sides, along the perimeter of the Cathedral were 20 or so little chapels which were privately endowed to and by noble families for them to come and worship in a manner which kept them separated from the rabble. Usually, each small chapel was dedicated to a particular Saint. Also, these little chapels are adorned with the most fascinating statues and monuments, and are now (mostly) open to the public for the purpose of praying to the Saint of your choosing.
Pausha and I quickly located the Rose Line, as described in the book, which, it is said in a big notice posted on one wall “not in anyway associated with a fanciful ‘Rose Line’ connected with Paris’ ancient geographical ley lines.” The notice further went on to say that the P and S inscribed in the far walls is short for “Paul” and “Sulpice” and not for “Priory of Scion.”
This notice contained excerpts from an open letter written by some Bishop or another of the catholic church talking about the dangers of allowing our youth and family members to be “infected” by such dangerous works as Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code.” His main argument was that such works “inspire doubt.” This left a pretty bad taste in my mouth, possessing enough of what I consider to be healthy cynicism, I could never, ever, ever take anything on faith. Ever. Even as a child. I’m always the scientist, believing in what I taste touch or feel, even if not able to fully prove or disprove. I like doubt. I fully subscribe to doubt. And of course not doubt simply to be contrarian. If I doubt your doctrine, I am at the very least, thinking. And thinking leads to some wonderful discoveries. Thinking has a future. But apparently we should steer clear of works which “inspire doubt” as we wouldn’t want members of the congregation reaching their own conclusions. Oh my. This sort of freaked me out a little bit.
After walking around the chapel for a little while, and really taking it in, I started to really observe some of the parishioners in their fervent prayer sessions, and got even more freaked out. There was this one woman in one of the chapels (this chapel was dedicated to Mary) off to the side who was praying adamantly, and frantically to a statue of Mary, lighting a candle and waving her arms around, kissing the floor, lighting another candle, waving her arms around and kissing the floor again.
I wish to remain sensitive to the beliefs of others, and I am certainly in no place to say what’s true and what is untrue, but what on Earth…? This woman was worshipping this statue as though it was the Virgin Mary standing before her offering a boon. The conviction this woman displayed betrayed the exact opposite of “doubt.” And this freaked me out. Big time. Also, sometime around then, someone had apparently found their way up to the church organ (St. Sulpice has a massive pipe organ) and began playing some of the most horrifically discordant music I have ever heard. I have no idea who the composer of this early piece was, but if I do ever discover this, I will find a way to locate the masters and destroy them, and any records of the composer’s existence.
Before we could make our escape, Torquemada, the Organ Torturer, chose that moment to hit all of the bass pedals (seemingly) at once, and a powerfully awful melody slipped the gates of hell, and was belched from the massive assembly of pipes, and the woman praying in the chapel actually swooned, placing her hands together and bowing up and down rapidly as though the organist’s cacophonous effectuations were somehow evidence of Mary’s grace.
Realizing that churches are best left to churchgoers, Pausha and I bolted the scene with haste.
Here are some links to various pages about St. Sulpice if you’d like to have a look inside:
http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/paris-st-sulpice.htm
Tuesday, May 6 – Out of the City
10:00 pm
The RER (Regional Rail) takes us smoothly and swiftly out of the city towards the Palace of Versailles. This was the seat of government up until the French Revolution. We all know the story of the peasantry storming the palace while Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI escaped out the back door, before being captured and executed. I am interested to know why the government never really took shape in this place after the revolution. Napoleon restored and updated the Louvre fortress/museum for his residence and offices. Why was he disinterested in Versailles? Was it too far out of town to be of strategic importance? Was it too difficult to defend? Bad juju? I’ll find this out and report back.
Architecturally, I was actually quite disappointed with Versailles. It is big, and lavish, but sorta boring, especially when compared to the Louvre. Versailles was built in a very modular fashion, with many identical rooms laid out one after another in a row. There are 3 wings on this tedious motif. Louis’ bedchambers face the rising sun (he was the “Sun King” after all) and to the right and left of his bedchambers are his staff room (war room) and the room in which he took breakfast, and dressed. Right around the corner, facing west, is the Queen’s bedchambers, which are the exact size and dimensions as the King’s. From time to time they would repurpose a room or suite of rooms, which basically involved replacing the curtains on the wall and the velvet (most of the rooms are treated with velvet on the walls instead of paint or wallpaper), putting up new art, etc., slide in some new furniture; Voila! New room. Very efficient, and very boring. The coolest rooms are the small handful of rooms which were built for specific purposes and really can’t be refitted, like small studies and libraries with massive bookshelf bureaus built into the walls, facing the setting sun to provide light for reading well into the evening. And also drawing rooms with settees built into the walls and fireplaces. Those are neat.
The gardens are vast, and statuary lines the avenue, which is called the Allée Royal. Pausha led us down the Allée Royal, to the water, where if you bear right, and then walk for another 350 miles and eventually you arrive at another, smaller palace, which was the private residence of Marie Antoinette. Behind this palace are more gardens, which she adored beyond all else, and was scorned for publicly. A hundred peasant families would have sustained rich lives on the annual maintenance costs of the gardens alone. Perhaps this is part of why the peasantry was so upset and revolted. You think?
We came back from Versailles absolutely wiped, and crashed back at the hotel for about 3 hours. It’s nice to be able to do this.
Out to the Latin Quarter for dinner. Pausha had an awesome lamb chop dish, and I had a steak. Incredibly good. I also singlehandedly polished off a half bottle of 2005 Bordeaux. While the days have been pretty hot here, unbearably so from the hours of 1pm until about 4pm, the nights have been unbelievably soothing. Cool breezes blow off the river, and the moisture in the air cools the skin. Very very nice. I’m enjoying nights in the city best.
Monday, May 5 – The day of Modern Art.
12:09 pm
Okay, so we will not be visiting Versailles today; apparently they are closed on Mondays. So we’ve got to rethink our plan. Our 4-day Museum pass ends today (Monday) and also our Metro pass, so we’ll have to get another 5-day Metro pass, but what shall we use our remaining Musée pass for?
Well, it turns out that both the Pompidou and the Picasso Museums are closed on Tuesday, so we may as well visit these two museums today, and go to Versailles tomorrow. Excellent! Secure in our master plan, we head over to the Louvre (we enjoy using the Louvre as a starting point; it’s centrally located, and it’s just bitchin’. Okay, I said it, let’s move on) and waltzed east along the water front until we reached the Hôtel De Ville, which was used as a little tiny guest house for the Louvre. It’s only a single city block long! (see photos on Flickr) Jeesh!
Moving on northward on Rue Beaubourg, we finally reach the Pompidou Center, which is a really cool modern art museum, featuring works by Matisse, Kandisky, Picasso, Braque, Basquiat, and um.. LaCie. Yes, LaCie, the French computer hard drive company, although it’s a Dado and a handful of unfinished works of Georges Rouault that I really fall in love with.
The Pompidou is very cool, and you enter by ascending 6 stories via escalator, from the top of which can be seen the Eiffel, Sacré Coéur, Notré Dame, and the roof of the Hôtel De Ville. Stunning. I’ve posted a handful of photos from the Pompidou.
Now, I cannot begin to describe how utterly exhausting it is to take in an entire museum at one stretch, which is why we immediately dragged our exhausted butts over to the Picasso Museum, which featured the works of, well, Pablo Picasso.
I have found a brand new appreciation for Picasso’s sketches, of which dozens have been preserved. Picasso was extremely prolific, and never ceased pushing the boundaries of his fine art training, and his need to bring a surreal perspective to mundane, every-day activities. His sculptures are extremely nice, and it was very cool to see in three dimensions some of the works I’ve enjoyed in print since I began to study art in high school. There’s one sculpture that I thought would be much smaller, and in reality is about 5 feet tall. I had more fun at the Picasso museum than I had in the Italian fine art wing at the Louvre.
Another thing that I realized is that I never got Pollack. Okay, so the dude takes some paint, and he hurls it at the canvas. Innovative technique, sure, but dude, take a pill, is this really art? Well, I have some to understand that the reason I never got Pollack was because I had always viewed his work in store-bought art textbooks, full of really nice (but really small) full color photos of his work. To get the power of Pollack’s work is to see his pieces in the flesh, with the addition of the 3rd dimension; texture. Pollack simply doesn’t work in 2-D. There were 2 pieces in the Pompidou that just blew my mind. Thanks, Jackson, I’m sorry you starved to death and went crazy.
Now off to see the Bastille, which turns out to be an Opera house now, of very modern design. Poo. The only remaining vestige of the Bastille, is yet another beautiful monolithic monument capped with a gold-plated flying humanoid thingy. Well, at least I can tell you story about Bastille day.
It turns out that there was a family of noble birth and influence in France in the 18th century by the name of Dione. This family had two ruling figures, brothers. One of the brothers had travelled to the United States in the days leading up to the American Revolution, apparently having business interests there. As you well know, the American Colonists declared independence in 1776, and one brother Dione, able to see the political writing on the wall, moved his family and interests to Toronto, changed his name from Dione to Heon, thus managing to survive his brother, who was captured and killed on Bastille Day with many other noblemen. My grandfather, Donat Arzarie Heon was a direct descendant of this line, and so, I suppose, am I.
Sunday, May 4 – Musée Du Louvre, Take deux
10:22 pm
First thing first: When visiting the Louvre, you definitely owe it to yourself to put a few days aside just for the Louvre Museum. You can not do it in one day, even if you take a lot of speed. The truth is that just 3 hours in the French and Italian Fine Art gallery killed us. So today we arrived early and alert, prepared to take on the Egyptian gallery, the Greco Roman and Etruscan sculpture and statuary wings, and also Pausha wanted to see the Rubens. A lofty goal? Well, maybe, I mean it’s only 3 galleries right? Oh dear, we viewed the entire Egyptian gallery and that was all we had energy for.
Big. I can’t begin to describe the size of this museum. It’s the biggest building I have ever seen in my life, and I thrill to imagine this place when it was being utilized as a palace. Also, and this is really cool, part of the original Medieval fortress architecture of the Louvre has been preserved, and you walk through this area on your way to the Egyptian wing. Wow. This place is really really old. I’ve posted a photo of the Medieval form on the Flickr page.
Upon declaring victory over ancient Egypt (or at least victory over the exhibit) we promptly returned to our hotel room for a nap.
And then it was off to Notre Dame, which we had still not been inside of. As this was my first experience of French Gothic architexture, I didn’t really have any expectations. I had seen my share of ancient churches and cathedrals during my time in Poland, and I was prepared for big, and I was prepared for old. What I was not prepared for was the magnitude of religious belief latent in every stone and every brick in this building. There’s a tangible vibration in this cathedral that I have never felt anywhere else, not even in the Sacré Coeur Basilique, which is actually only a little over 100 years old.
The Notre Dame cathedral was built by people who believed, absolutely, with unerring conviction, in the majesty and power of Christ, and of the Catholic church. I felt humbled in that building, and I definitely appreciated the time, energy, and expense such a construction project would require. Pausha has seen the cathedrals at Charte and Rains, which apparently follow a very similar design and floor plan. I overheard someone saying that Notre Dame looks exactly like the cathedral at Lyon, but that somehow Lyon was even more powerful in its presence than Notre Dame. Well, next time perhaps, because I’m not driving out to Lyon this week. Notre Dame is a mind blowing destination. On our way out we notice a poster advertising a classical concert performance happening soon. I can not even begin to imagine what a classical quartet with chorale accompaniment will sound like in there. Wow.
With Notre Dam securely behind us, we saunter back over to the Louvre, and decide that we do not have the energy for another trip inside, so instead we walk the 3 kilometers up the Champs Élysées toward the Arc de Triomphe instead. Yeah, that’s somehow non-sensical, I know. But it’s a beautiful walk anyway.
There is a large strip (they call it an Avenue, but you could land a town on it, 3 times over) which runs from the Louvre straight up to the Arc de Triomphe. Along the way is the Jardin Des Tuileries, which is a long garden with lots of flowers and statuary (See the Flickr page for some photos of this) and then you reach Place De La Concorde, which is where the former seat of government was. Right in the middle of Place De La Concorde is the Obelisk, which was a gift from Egypt. It’s really cool, and also really out of place with the Greco-Roman statues surrounding the place. Additionally, the Obelisk sits directly on the very place which once housed a very famous guillotine in 1789.
Ick. Moving forward to the Champs Élysées, which is the avenue that extends from the Place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s basically Paris’ answer to 5th or Madison avenue, or is that the other way around? I forget. It’s impressive, full of really pricey clothing stores, and eateries, and yes (thank God!) has a metro stop right at the Arc de Triomphe. I don’t have to walk back!
One thing I’d like to point out is that Paris is extremely complex as far as layout is concerned. I’m not sure there was any civic planning, and being from Boston, that does not shock me in the bit. It’s all paved or cobbled horse paths; the streets meander, and sometimes wrap back around themselves in an attempt to lead you nowhere. This is not a problem, however, because their train system is excellent; well laid out, easy to understand and navigate. We’ve become quite proficient in the past few days with regards to getting around on the Metro with no mistakes.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that just after the Jardin Des Tuileries, and right before Place De La Concorde is the Musée De L’Orangerie. An Orangerie is a hothouse, used to grow plants (like oranges and in the case of the Luxombourg Gardens, palm trees) which are not indigenous to the region. Like many of the old buildings here, this Orangerie has been converted into a museum. The Musée De L’Orangerie is the current residence of Claude Monet’s Water Lillies. This piece takes up 8 walls in 2 whole rooms. There are also dozens of impressionist artists here, including Paul Guillaume, Cézanne, Renoir, Matisse, and Picasso. Outside the museum stands a collection of Rodin’s sculptures. Rodin does big feet. Very cool.
I took 446 photos today, which I still have to edit, censure, and post. I will not force upon you the many photos I took of the exhibitions, but I will post many more. Our terrible internet experience will only allow for about 20 photos being uploaded in any given hour (even at 160KB each…. ugh..) so most of the images will have to wait until we return home, and can upload 400 1MB photos in a matter of 10 minutes or so. Crazy.
What’s really crazy is that we somehow covered all of this ground in one day! And we had three good meals, and took frequent breaks on park benches. Tomorrow is Versailles.
Monday, May 5 – Hotel de Richelieu
11:22 pm - More Funny Photos / Christ Caption Contest
Okay, we’re having a little contest. Who can write the best caption for this masterpiece? Please comment on this post with your own masterpiece caption. This is your once in a lifetime chance to put words in our Holy Father’s mouth. And the prize? Well, nothing fancy, just some little bauble we’ve picked up here in Paris just for you! It’s my blog and I’ll blaspheme if I want to. Have fun.
Photo by Minuk.