I am in Paris now.
I am IN Paris NOW.
Hard to believe, even almost two weeks after I have arrived. I will provide a quick overview of my trip thus far, followed soon by material more in the expose format.
Note to all travelers: Never, ever purchase a 17” laptop, and then try to take it to France. That is, unless you want a very prompt denial of passage while you are trying to check in for your flight with two carry-on items and a suitcase. Allow me to explain: I had my laptop in an appropriately giant messenger bag. Giant enough to fail the requirement of one “large bag and one small bag” according to the Air France representative’s simplification. I argued that she had just let someone through with the same size bag. But no – I had two large bags to bring on, not a large and a small, the rep explains with a dramatic eye roll. Fine. I stuffed a few pairs of boxers into my laptop bag and shoved forward, as the woman politely wished me a great flight.
In spite of the woman’s eye roll, she was polite to the end. She urged me to momentarily step to the side several times to consider bringing on my laptop by itself along with my backpack (yes, I had a backpack and a messenger bag) or to transfer items between the two. I had a suspicion that this strange mix of accommodation, politeness, and utter annoyance was a taste of things to come.
In any case, the flight was great: I watched Kung Fu Panda in French and drank white wine for the first time. It was still dark out as the plane passed by Paris and the surrounding area, a web of blinking white and red, tangled like last year’s Christmas lights.
As the three other Norheastern French majors and I got off the plane, the reality began to seep in: we were in Paris! Delirious with lack of sleep, we nearly skipped through a hamster cage-esque series of walkways into the customs area at Charles de Gaulle airport….
…and straight into a hot, dense room full of unmoving people, where we would remain for the next hour and a half. I hear that passing through customs here is usually quite quick, but for whatever reason things only trickled until the last twenty minutes, when the line finally began moving. Days later, I heard a rumor about exploding luggage causing the hold up. Who knows.
I took a shuttle with other American University at Paris students to the FIAP (Foyeur a International Acceuil de Paris) hostel in the 14th arrondissement (district). What followed was a seemingly endless line of form-filling and leaflet-taking, snaking through the series of rooms beneath the enormous hostel. Eventually, I was able to meet up with Carlotta, who had just come in from Bordeaux. We went out with the other French majors to walk about the 14th and grab a bite to eat – my first true glimpse of Paris! We strolled down a leafy boulevard and into a little market area, where I was overcome with a Technicolor menagerie of sights, smells, sounds. Dead chickens, squirming crabs, multitudinous fruit incarnadine; cooking meat, dog poop, ripening fruit, sweet fluffy bread that smells like clouds in spring; dancing children, cheap cheap books en francais; ornately arranged food displays. My first meal in France was in a tiny little shop with its entire menu sitting, freshly made, in the window. I ate a vegetarian quiche and some mousse au chocolat, followed by un café. The salad was so fresh that there were even tiny dead gnats in it – but I was so happy to be in France, so hungry, so delighted at eating the best quiche I had ever had, that it didn’t disgust me as much as it should have. And the mousse was appropriately rich, but the café – thick, bold, overwhelming – had me hooked for good. I have not passed a day since I came here without drinking café expres at least once.
We returned to the FIAP, thoroughly tired. After I sat, delirious, through a lecture by the Dean of Student Affairs to the general student body in the auditorium at the FIAP (yes, it’s a hostel with an auditorium), Carlotta and I took a walk through Montparnasse.
Montparnasse, the old haunt of oh so many literary gods.
And here was where I had my first of many religious experiences in Paris. Walking down the wide boulevard de Montparnasse, with its flashing lights and velvet brasseries, its cinemas and boutiques, I thought about the many Americans (some of them also writers – even fewer, famous ones) that had walked through this part of town, listening to the song of spoken French collecting in the air about them. I thought about how 8 years of learning French had brought me here, to a city that had seen more history in Western civilization than any one inch of the entire hemisphere I lived in; and I became another one of the masses the city had seen come and go, all slack-jawed and in love.
Paris does not have to sell itself to anyone.
I have been to many of the largest cities in America, and none have impressed me as such. In retrospect, many now strike me as claustrophobic and metallic, with their gleaming skyscraper canyons. Here there are tiny places, but there are just so many big places – big in history, in size, in their dramatic presentation. In America, things are taller, perhaps, but they are also gaunter, obeying almost religiously to the Spartan beginnings of the nation. This minimalist ideal is completely lost in France, and I love it! Everything is a feast of the senses.
In any case, Carlotta put up with my franchophile slobbering and accompanied me to Le Sélect, a favorite brasserie of Hemingway and Henry Miller, among others. I spoke French to the waiter, and it felt great, even though he was rude up until I left him an uncustomary tip. More on dining experiences in another post. On to the pictures!
Imperturbable, Endless Prettiness
I didn't think I could fit so much into a week. Here we go...
Montparnasse Cemetery
Here I saw the final resting places of Jean Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, Tristan Tzara, Samuel Beckett, Serge Gainsbourg, and Charles Baudelaire. I just so happened to be there on Baudelaire’s death day! There was an old man reading his works by the grave, as a small crowd gathered.
Basilisque Sacré Coeur
At the top of the steep hill of Montmartre over the seedy 18th Arrondissement is a gorgeous church and a fantastic view of Paris both day and night. Unfortunately my camera is bad at any sort of night photography, so my photos of said view were not very impressive.
L'Arc de Triomphe
Much larger than I thought it would be. It is hard to imagine soldiers of any nationality marching beneath this today – they would be run over!
The Eiffel Tower
Voila. What else can I say? It was also much much larger than I thought it would be. Still an impressive piece of architecture in this day and age. I rode to the top the other night and took a bunch of pictures that didn’t come out. It’s really tall.
Palais du Luxembourg, Jardin du Luxembourg
One of the most famous parks in the world, formerly the garden of the palace you see above, which is now the weekly meeting place of the French senate. I only saw part of the park, and though I searched for the renowned statues of France’s greatest writers and political figures, all I found were random animal statuary and busts of various woman aristocrats of whom I had never heard. There was also a really cool set of sculptures about 30 yards long that from a distance spelled out Tolerance. It is little noted that much of the grass in the jardin is untouchable, and all of the walking paths are gravel. Don’t go there on a windy day.
Musée d’Orsay
The famous train station-cum-museum that houses many of the Impressionist works with which the Western world has become well acquainted. This is the first floor – there are five floors of art work by Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Renoir, and others!
I have also been to Notre Dame and the Louvre, but I have special posts for them. Coming soon. Au revoir for now!
1 comment:
Peter Franklin, you make me smile :)
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