16 October, 2006 | Comments

Today was a perfect autumn day in Paris. The weather was just right, the sky was the clearest, deepest blue. I finished my class this afternoon and walked along the boulevard, towards the Jardin du Lux, as always. Children filled the patisseries, spilling out into the street, waiting to buy sandwiches and snacks for the walk home from school.

In the Jardin there was barely an empty seat. At this time of year you can never take days like this for granted and each one must be savoured. I went to the café and ordered two small scoops of sorbet on a cone. Citron and passion.

At a nearby table, two old women shared a bottle of Coca. A small bird wrestled in the dirt with a crust of baguette. It felt decadent to do nothing but eat sorbet and watch the leaves fall softly from the trees. Shouldn’t I have been doing something?

I walked across the jardin and settled down in a chair, protecting myself from the bright sunlight by sitting in the shadow of a statue.

I wrote a few lines in my notebook and read a poem by Paul Verlaine from my textbook, called Chanson d’Automne (Autumn Song). An old woman slept in a chair next to me.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave because to do so would mean turning my back on such tranquility. So I stayed. Really, there was no place else to be.

10 October, 2006 | 1 Comment

Sitting on a bench next to the Canal St. Martin, lost in thought, mesmerized by the sunlight skimming across the water.

And then some guy walks up next to me and takes a piss right in the canal. And you know he did this just to be a perv. And the scary thing is that a guy who does something like this in front of women in public places is probably a sex offender or at least on his way to becoming one. Not funny.

Try to erase that imagery from your mind. Because after this unpleasant incident, I stood on a bridge over the canal and snapped a photo. And I like it because the trees’ reflection in the water reminds me of an Impressionist painting:

I live fairly close to the canal and I’ve returned to this bridge a few times in the hopes of seeing this lovely sight once more, but to no avail.

9 October, 2006 | 4 Comments

So much for taking a week off. You guys! I have received so many comments and e-mails regarding my “break” from blogging. I last posted on Thursday night and today is only Monday! You are all too cute. (For some reason, the traffic to my site has doubled during my break?!) It’s a holiday weekend in the US (boo Columbus!) so I didn’t think you’d even notice I was gone. But it warms my heart to receive messages from friends and readers saying they need their “fix” of me. I don’t get to hear that too often. If I never go away, how will you ever miss me?

I have been walking around the city a lot. Miles and miles every day. I took some photos of sex shops one day (more on that later) and ended up in the Jardin du Tuileries at sunset on Saturday (yes, I have discovered another garden!). Here is a photo I took at the Place de la Concorde (outside the gates of the Tuileries). I was walking down rue de Rivoli and rounded the corner and beheld this:

[Looking into the sun, even in a photograph, hurts my eyes. Be careful! Don't look directly at it!]

This photo isn’t great, but I had to capture the moment. This was one of those Parisian moments when you stop in your tracks, your mouth open in disbelief, all the while thinking “Oh, that’s just too lovely to even be real.” And you feel slightly dizzy and you have to sit down and catch your breath.

So I am head over heels in love with Paris now. That didn’t take long, did it?

3 October, 2006 | 2 Comments

I was late for an appointment this afternoon and it was raining, so I took a taxi. Big mistake. The roads of central Paris were gridlocked. My driver took this as a personal affront and kept flipping through the radio stations in search of traffic news. He finally discovered the source of the problem. “Un manifestation! C’est toujours le probléme!” (A demonstration! It’s always the problem!) The French love of protesting is bad for traffic, apparently. I filmed part of this journey — it’s just a rather pointless video of me trying to speak to the driver over the blare of the radio. Forgive me, but I was bored.

After my appointment, I walked home through the Jardin du Luxembourg, my new favorite hangout. I couldn’t resist taking more photos of the trees there. It’s turning into an addiction. The trees in the Lux are ethereal in their beauty. I find them to be slightly hypnotic. This afternoon the tree trunks were rain-soaked and dark, making them even lovelier than the last time I was there.

2 October, 2006 | Comments

For a big city, Paris is rather compact. It’s not a sprawling metropolis like London or New York. Most people are surprised to discover just how manageable it is. From a recent travel article in the NYT: “Paris is, after all, a small city, only 40.5 square miles — slightly smaller than the Bronx and much smaller than London, Madrid, Berlin and Rome. Eleven miles wide, almost six miles long, Paris can be walked from one end to the other within hours. Even Paris, Tex., is about the same size as Paris, France. Yet Paris has perhaps the densest population of any city in Western Europe.”

One of my next adventures will be to walk across Paris one afternoon, perhaps along the Seine. Sounds fun!

For those unfamiliar with Paris, the city is divided into 20 districts, called arrondissements, which are the primary way people refer to the city. My neighborhood, the Marais, is located mostly in the 3rd (3e) and 4th (4e) arrondissments, on the Right Bank. I live in the 3rd (3e), the more northern part of the Marais. I have included a map of Paris arrondissements below. Just for reference, the 1st (1er) arrondissement (home to the Louvre) is considered to be the center of Paris; Notre Dame is located in the lower part of the 4th (4e) and the Eiffel Tower is in the 7th (7e). And that blue line you see running through the map is, of course, the lovely Seine. So as you can see, as a resident of the 3rd (3e), I am quite centrally located. I’m lucky that I can walk almost everywhere I want to go.

29 September, 2006 | Comments

I’m just going to tell you that I had a magical afternoon. Magical. I discovered what is now my favorite place in all of Paris, the Jardin du Luxembourg. It’s Paris’s most beloved garden – 60 acres of flowers and trees and fountains and sculptures and endless delights right in the middle of the Left Bank. I’ve been to Paris numerous times but have never visited the Luxembourg Gardens until today. And I’m glad that I’d never gone before, because discovering this place for the first time right now is like receiving a rare and beautiful gift.

The day didn’t start off well, I’ve gotta tell you. Everything that could have gone wrong did. By mid-afternoon I was taking care of some business at the Sorbonne and by the time I was done, I was a tad cranky. So I walked down the hill to the Jardin du Luxembourg, which is literally a couple blocks away. And leaving the traffic and the bustle behind and walking through those black iron gates was like slipping into a warm bath. I can think of no better way to describe it. The hours I spent exploring the gardens were the most peaceful and meaningful moments I’ve experienced since arriving in Paris.

As soon as I entered the gardens, I was reminded that it’s autumn. The leaves on many of the trees had already turned gold and were falling to the ground. My first stop was the café, of course. I sat at a table outside in the trees and ate a crêpe au chocolat and drank a citron pressé. [If you read this blog, you know I’m not supposed to be eating foods that contain dairy, but over the past few days I’ve been indulging quite a bit. I will have to stop soon or I’ll get sick, but my newfound desire to eat everything in sight is a good sign. It means my appetite is back. True confession: My first three weeks in Paris, I lost nearly ten pounds. When I was depressed I stopped eating. So at least now I know I’m feeling better.]

It’s hard for me to explain how amazing the Luxembourg Gardens are. On an aesthetic level alone they are unparalleled, with the magnificent Palais du Luxembourg dominating the landscape; there are fountains, sculptures, flowers, thick groves of trees and expanses of the greenest grass. There are cafés, tennis courts, a merry-go-round, ponies and old men playing boules. You could spend all day exploring every hidden corner. But most of all, these gardens (what Americans would refer to as a park) are meant to be enjoyed by Parisians. It’s hard to imagine something so beautiful and pristine being used on an everyday basis by regular people, but there are benches and chairs everywhere, filled with people talking, napping, reading, painting and playing. And you know, I didn’t see anyone jogging along in black Lycra. The Jardin du Luxembourg is not a place where people seem interested in doing things. Rather, it’s all about being, about living and experiencing life in that very moment. It’s about slowing down, stopping, simply existing and seeking out moments of pleasure for their own sake (and not feeling guilty about it). Perhaps that’s why visiting the gardens was so meaningful to me – I could really understand, for the very first time, how life is lived so very differently in this city.

I was completely bewitched. By early evening I had to force myself to leave for home because I didn’t have my umbrella with me and the skies were darkening. But even after I walked out through the gates and into the bustling Latin Quarter, the garden’s spell stayed with me, calling me back for another visit.

See my photos here, if you so desire.

Tags: Jardin du Luxembourg

27 September, 2006 | 2 Comments

I spent a delightful afternoon at Jardin des Plantes, France’s main botanical garden, which dates back to 1626. In addition to the gardens, there is a natural history museum, a museum of evolution, a botanical school and a zoo. And it’s right in the center of Paris! What a refuge. There was obviously too much to see in one afternoon, so I explored the gardens and the tiny zoo, called Le Ménagerie. The zoo is mostly filled with birds and non-vicious animals like bunny rabbits and wallabies, though there was a panther who seemed rather unhappy to be there and quite out-of-place. According to my guidebook, it is the oldest zoo in France (dating back to 1795), but in the Siege of Paris in 1870-1, the citizenry ate the animals. Apparently, the zoo never recovered and it is now rather, uh, low-key. (And there are rumors that stray cats are fed to the reptiles.) The zoo was a pleasant diversion, but I went to see the colorful blooms and I wasn’t disappointed. Every now and then, I just need some flower therapy. Ahhhh.

If you need a pick-me-up, check out my flower and cuddly animal photos on Flickr.

Tags: Jardin des Plantes

26 September, 2006 | 3 Comments

Walked to Notre Dame. Went inside, lit a candle, said a prayer.

Inside the cathedral, in the semi-darkness lit only by stained glass and candles, took a seat and thought, reflected, cleared my mind. Took refuge from all that was outside. Deep breaths. Camera flashes.

Took way too many photos. Took a video inside, took a video outside. Touristic binge.

Indulged my gargoyle obsession by walking around the outside of the cathedral; looked at their distant, ancient faces through a zoom lens.

Bought a crepe with Nutella, breaking the no-dairy rule. Didn’t care. Sat in front of Notre Dame in the bright sunlight and ate it. Felt happiness meter go up a few clicks.

Walked across the bridge to the Île St. Louis under darkening skies. Passed an accordion player, made another video, gave him a few Euros. He said “Merci, Mademoiselle.” Should have given him more money – I’m old enough now to appreciate being called Mademoiselle.

Went into a pharmacie and asked in my shaky French, “J’ai besoin de…médicine…en anglais c’est ibuprofen.” The woman said, “En français c’est ibuprofène.” I replied, “Ah bon?” and we laughed.

I walked the quaint streets of the Île, felt charmed (how could I not?), took more photos, began to truly understand why people say Paris is not a city but a collection of villages. Realized for the first time how lucky I am to be living in Paris, to be experiencing this place. Walked home and felt grateful for the moments of pure bliss I had experienced throughout my afternoon – just moments, mind you, fleeting moments – but that’s enough, that’s all anyone should ever hope to have.

15 September, 2006 | 2 Comments

I walked to the Louvre today (don’t you just hate me?). I plan to save most of my museum-going for the cold, dark winter months. Right now there are plenty of other things to take advantage of while there are still leaves on the trees and flowers in bloom and nice weather. But today it was overcast and gloomy (last night we had a scary thunder and lightning storm) and I felt I needed — not wanted, needed — a strong shot of culture straight up. So off to the Louvre I went.

I went without my camera because sometimes you just need to see the sights with your own eyes, rather than through a lens. It’s easy to forget that the Louvre was originally a palace. As I walked into one of the immense courtyards from the rue de Rivoli, I was astonished by the majesty of it. I had to stop walking and take a moment to behold what was in front of me. It was amazing.

Inside, the Louvre is quite the carnival of humanity. It’s a lot to take, what with the hordes of people, the noise level that makes it impossible to lose yourself in the art, etc. If you take away all the exhibits and the palace, it’s like being in a big surburban shopping mall — only worse. But you just have to embrace it as part of the experience. Otherwise, you’ll be in tears or passed out on a bench, practically in a coma. A woman walked up to me and whined (in English) “I’m. So. Tired.”

I went without a plan and though it was difficult to resist, I skipped renting The Da Vinci Code audio tour narrated by Jean Reno. I wandered into the Sully Wing first, which houses the pillaged Egyptian antiquities. I managed to get trapped here for well over an hour, unable to find the exit, circling the same creepy tombs over and over again. I didn’t enjoy this too much. It’s very humid in the Louvre (humid enough to make you sweat). All those bodies crammed into such a small space. Oy vey.

After finally managing to escape, I visited the café to buy bottled water. I felt as if I’d been walking through the desert. Rather cleverly, there are no drinking fountains anywhere. And then I needed a snack (of course) but they didn’t have anything Anglofille-friendly, so I bought a buttery French pastry and just ate it. Sometimes I like to shake things up and live on the edge.

Next it was the Denon Wing, home to La Jaconde or “Monna Lisa.” The Mona Lisa is much, much smaller than I remembered. If you’re not very tall, you may not even get to see it, such is the swarm of people mobbed in front of it. It’s really survival of the fittest — or tallest. After paying the obligatory homage to Mona Lisa, I looked all over the Italian wing for my favorite Louvre painting, “Lady MacBeth Sleepwalking” by Henry Fuseli. I looked everywhere and could not find it, so I asked one of the museum staffers. I was told that Fuseli was actually Swiss, not Italian, but he spent most of his career in England so his work is displayed with the English paintings. I asked where I could find these and was told that the English paintings have been taken off display! They’ve been displaced by something or other (it was a half-French, half-English conversation and a bit difficult to follow, though “Venus de Milo” entered into the equation somehow). The English paintings are in limbo and may just be dispersed throughout the museum. Pshaw! Then she told me if I wanted to see the Fuseli work, I should just look at it on the internet. Uh, if I wanted to look at the paintings on the internet I would’ve stayed home and saved 8,50€.

So that was my Louvre adventure for the day. It’s not a good idea to stay there — or at any museum — for too long. Otherwise, you’re overtaken by that weird museum zombie effect wherein you find yourself looking at a world-famous Ingres painting but your level of engagement is more akin to shopping for towels at the local department store — you feel nothing except the ache in your feet. When you start to feel like that, you know it’s time to look for the exit.

Lady MacBeth Sleepwalking:

Link: Louvre painting database.

10 September, 2006 | 3 Comments

This is what I like about Paris: Last night when I got home, as I walked through the courtyard of my building and up to my apartment, I passed four of my neighbors. And each and every one of them said, “Bon soir.” When I lived in London and Boston and New York, I’d pass my neighbors on a regular basis and the vast majority of them never acknowledged my presence. Ever.

Yesterday was my one-week anniversary of living in Paris, so I decided to mark the occasion by visiting the Eiffel Tower. Original, yes, that’s me. Nothing else gives me that punch in the arm that says — You’re in Paris, you dope. Get a grip! — than seeing the Eiffel Tower. I walked around and took photos mostly. I need another photo of the Eiffel Tower like I need a hole in the head, but I took a few snaps to add to my insanely large collection anyway. I’m an addict. I took a handful of other photos too, which you can see right here. You can also watch a little movie if you so desire.

After hanging out at the Eiffel Tower for a while, I ended up walking across almost all of central Paris. This wasn’t by design – I didn’t have any coins for the Métro. Most of the Métro stations are unstaffed for some reason and the machines only take coins. Very inconvenient. So I started walking and just kept going, long after I’d bought a bottle of Evian and made change.

From the Eiffel Tower I walked along the Seine, then across the Pont de l’Alma and down the Avenue Montaigne. I walked down the Champs Élysées to the Place de la Concorde, down rue Rivoli, past the Jardin des Tuileries and the Louvre. From there I was in the more familiar territory of what I’m beginning to think of as my area. Before I got home I bought my first baguette. I carried it home under my arm like a real Parisian. The French don’t butter their bread, they just tear off a hunk and eat it (sometimes while walking down the street), so that’s what I’ve been doing. I normally don’t eat white bread like this, because my body metabolizes it like pure sugar. But when in Paris…

Somebody take this thing away from me!

Tags: Paris, Eiffel Tower

9 September, 2006 | Comments

Statue at the Place du Trocadéro, across the street from the Eiffel Tower.

3 September, 2006 | Comments

I spent part of the day walking around and exploring the area. A lot of shops and businesses are closed on Sunday. I needed something from the drugstore, or pharmacie, but could not find one open anywhere. I’ll have to get all my shopping and errands done on Saturday from now on.

Notre Dame, the Seine and thus the very heart of Paris are about a 15-minute walk from my apartment. The police had Notre Dame blocked off and would only let elderly people through (!). I’m guessing some sort of religious bigwig was there, given the abundance of men wearing fancy robes, etc. Here’s a photo I took from behind the police lines:

After traveling so much recently, it’s nice to be in my own place again. The delights of Paris are right outside the door, but there’s plenty of time for that. It’s fun to just hang out at home and sit on my sofa — it’s been a year since I’ve had a sofa! Hurrah!