We get a late start in the morning. C & J are starting their own business, and have much to do, besides the imminent move to Ireland. J has got to finish something before she can leave, but I don't mind because I'm glad for us all to go together.
The drive to Bath is short, and soon we are strolling along the quaint streets lined with the light colored houses. I imagine that I am Anne Elliot walking down the street arm and arm with Captain Wentworth. We won't have time to visit the Jane Austen house, but she didn't really enjoy her time in Bath, and someday I plan to come back and see the Jane Austen's House Museum in Chawton.
C & J look for marmelade for me while I tour the Roman Baths. I am amazed at all things Roman. Indeed, Rome is the craddle of western civilization. The water is a murky tannish-green, but one can still imagine people through the ages coming bathe in the bubbling, slightly sulphuric waters. I am entranced by a mask of Athena, and the indoor pool, which looks like a galaxy of stars. Before I leave, I drink a cup of water at the Pump Room, another hommage to Miss Jane.
Strolled over with C&J to Bath Abbey. Very different from the churches in Paris. It is light and airy inside. The vaulted ceilings are intricately veined. It sounds gross, but it was quite beautiful.
Went to a shishi market to buy some orange, and some lemon-lime marmelade to top off my cheese party. Grab a Cornish pasty for lunch, and we are off. traffic is really bad, and we don't have time to see the Crescent. They take me to the train station at Bath, invite me to visit in Ireland, and I am heading back to London before I know it.
Just one tip for any non-British travellers who want to use the trains in London. Have a Londoner buy the tickets online, when they are cheap. I wasn't able to buy online, and bought after I'd arrived in London, by which time it was almost three times as expensive!
Back in London, I race back to the National Gallery, and revel in Renoirs, Michaelangelos and Rembrandts. Rembrandt uses so much shadow, but balances it so well with light. Viewing his paintings always reminds me of that line in Jane Eyre, where she talks about the shadows being as important as the light.
Also take a minute to go revisit the National Portrait Gallery and get postcards of people I'd like to meet: Queen Elizabeth I, Virginia Woolfe, Shakespeare, Mary Wollstonecraft. I dither about John Donne, but the postcard is nothing compared to the original, so I pass.
Meet up with Ginger at Waterloo station. I buy some Eclairs to share at the cheese party, and meet him outside just as he approaches. We walk a bit to get to the studio, and find his friends in line to see a taping of QI with Steven Fry. When it airs, I hope some nice British person will post it to youtube so that I can give you a glimpse of the comedic genius that I saw that night. Not that we knew we would get in. There was all types of suspense, as we were told by the coralling guy that they were waiting for a busload of VIP's who could co-opt our seats at any time prior to our entering the theatre. Luckily, however, the VIPs never made it, and our group got the best seats in the house!
My favorite comic was Alan Davies.
My favorite line was from Steven Fry. After telling the oft-heard story of how the Jews received the ten commandments, he apologized by saying that he was Jewish. Then he said that he was actually an atheist, and couldn't understand the furor over everyone arguing who's got the best invisible friend!
Anyway, it's been so fun to be a broad abroad, but I'm rather excited to be going home tomorrow
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
England Day 3: Tower Tour and then to Bristol
Get a late start out to the Tower of London, but Ginger gets me in free and gives me a short walkabout tour before taking off to do his own errands. I joined in on the Yeoman Warder tour. It's very bawdy and entertaining, but the time is so short that I cut out to see my main haighlights.
The Crown Jewels are absolutely spectacular. It is difficult to contemplate so much wealth in such a small part of the world. Reaffirm that I like diamonds best. They are the most brilliant jewels, and the combination of their clear brilliance and hearts of fire make me love them despite their troubled history and present politicking. I double back just for the pleasure of seeing them again.
Go to view a skit of the trial of Judge Jeffries. I take the part of a revolutionary. It reminds me of Renaissance Faire ... but less bawdy and with less cleavage on display. How I love costumes!
I skim through White Tower, the Bloody Tower, the ravens with the clipped wings, pass by the historically questionable beheading sit, Traitor's (Trader's) Gate, and the Outer and Inner Curtains. I would have liked to enter Bell Tower, where Sir Thomas Moore was kept, but it isn't open to mere mortals such as myself. Overall, the displays are well done, especially those in White Tower, which invite all kinds of interaction.
I leave the Tower and hurry to the Tower Hill Station. To my dismay, it is closed. Some joker pulled a fire alarm and it's out of business! So, I walked all the way back to Aldgate East. I stressed the whole way ... even more when I had to take an underground crossing, only to find that the pathway to the station was blocked off! I was absoultey convinced that I wasn't going to make it. I think I ran the last little way, which for me is generally unthinkable. And yet, I did. And I made it. And all was right with the world.
Got out to Bristol, and Cogie Bear came to pick me up. He and J were having dinner at a friend's house, in anticipation of their move back to ireland. I didn't want to barge in, but G was just as friendly as can be, and I felt right at home. Cogie is the quintiscential Irishman. He's brash and witty and fun. It doesn't hurt that he's got a mind like a steel trap, and is always on the go. He just has such an upbeat, attractive personality. J is the straightman of the couple, but they compliment each other perfectly. G is a friend that used to live with C before his marriage. G works for Dyson, which makes the best hand driers in the world. Really, after drying my hands on roller machines with non-disposable cloths inside, I was missing the Dyson driers!
After some apple crumble (with pudding from a can), we took a drive to see some views, walk across the oldest functioning suspension bridge, and to walk about the waterfront of Bristol. I was telling them that I wished I could have seen some of Banksy's work in London, when G told me to look out the window of the car, and there was one of Banksy's pieces! How fortuitous. Of his outdoor work online, I liked the bush sprouting the video camera, and the huge yellow flower best.
As we were walking about the waterfront, C & G got into a groove, and had me laughing hard at their hillarity. Turns out that G has done some lindy. He seems like the type to try almost anything, especially if it's adventurous. We talk about dancing and bond.
The Crown Jewels are absolutely spectacular. It is difficult to contemplate so much wealth in such a small part of the world. Reaffirm that I like diamonds best. They are the most brilliant jewels, and the combination of their clear brilliance and hearts of fire make me love them despite their troubled history and present politicking. I double back just for the pleasure of seeing them again.
Go to view a skit of the trial of Judge Jeffries. I take the part of a revolutionary. It reminds me of Renaissance Faire ... but less bawdy and with less cleavage on display. How I love costumes!
I skim through White Tower, the Bloody Tower, the ravens with the clipped wings, pass by the historically questionable beheading sit, Traitor's (Trader's) Gate, and the Outer and Inner Curtains. I would have liked to enter Bell Tower, where Sir Thomas Moore was kept, but it isn't open to mere mortals such as myself. Overall, the displays are well done, especially those in White Tower, which invite all kinds of interaction.
I leave the Tower and hurry to the Tower Hill Station. To my dismay, it is closed. Some joker pulled a fire alarm and it's out of business! So, I walked all the way back to Aldgate East. I stressed the whole way ... even more when I had to take an underground crossing, only to find that the pathway to the station was blocked off! I was absoultey convinced that I wasn't going to make it. I think I ran the last little way, which for me is generally unthinkable. And yet, I did. And I made it. And all was right with the world.
Got out to Bristol, and Cogie Bear came to pick me up. He and J were having dinner at a friend's house, in anticipation of their move back to ireland. I didn't want to barge in, but G was just as friendly as can be, and I felt right at home. Cogie is the quintiscential Irishman. He's brash and witty and fun. It doesn't hurt that he's got a mind like a steel trap, and is always on the go. He just has such an upbeat, attractive personality. J is the straightman of the couple, but they compliment each other perfectly. G is a friend that used to live with C before his marriage. G works for Dyson, which makes the best hand driers in the world. Really, after drying my hands on roller machines with non-disposable cloths inside, I was missing the Dyson driers!
After some apple crumble (with pudding from a can), we took a drive to see some views, walk across the oldest functioning suspension bridge, and to walk about the waterfront of Bristol. I was telling them that I wished I could have seen some of Banksy's work in London, when G told me to look out the window of the car, and there was one of Banksy's pieces! How fortuitous. Of his outdoor work online, I liked the bush sprouting the video camera, and the huge yellow flower best.
As we were walking about the waterfront, C & G got into a groove, and had me laughing hard at their hillarity. Turns out that G has done some lindy. He seems like the type to try almost anything, especially if it's adventurous. We talk about dancing and bond.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
England Day 2: Getting about London
Walk to the Globe Theatre, and pass by a large market underneath a train station. The Burroughs market? It was bustling and the food looked gorgeous. I glanced longingly at the cheeses, but can't conceive of carrying them all day long.
At the Globe, they are rehearsing Midsummer Night's Dream, so we can't go into the yard or on the stage, but our guide takes us into the best seats of the house, and we watch them rehearse. It's the scene at the end where the players are performing for the Duke and his fiancee. They are marvelous. As soon as the tour is over, I hightail it to the box office. It's opening night, and the sign says "Sold Out." I wonder if I can get a matinee showing the next day and delay my trip to Bristol a couple of hours. Yes, there is a matinee performance tomorrow, but it is King Lear. Hmph. I ask if there are, by any chance, any tickets left for tonight. The ticket lady is doubtful, but takes a look. And compliments me on my gorgeous hat. And huzzah! There is ONE ticket left! Suddenly I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Over the Millesnium Bridge to the Tate Modern. I am not a big fan of modern art, but there were definitely things that drew me. Plus, the TM is so well planned and organized that one can't help but appreciate it. Can't take pictures in the TM, but here are some of the things that appealed to me (some of which just don't look good from a computer an ocean and continent away):
Walpurgis Night, by Paul Klee
Burnt Landscape II, by Fred Williams
Ishi's Light by Anish Kapoor
Seated Nude by Pablo Picasso
Six Mile Bottom by Frank Stella
Bursting Shell by C. Nevinson
Mandora by George Braque
To the Victoria & Albert Museum. It is filled with the most beautiful things. From the marble statues in the large main hall, to the costumes, to the jewelry I didn't get to see because it was being remodeled. Spent a lot of time in the gift shop. Found a bracelet whose beads somewhat approximated the chandelier necklace I want to make. So, I bought the bracelet with the express purpose of deconstructing it.
To the Design Museum. Again, I spent my time in the gift shop. Everything there was so wonderful. Ended up buying several books for friends. I bought Seven Hundred Penguins for myself.Someday I will find the perfect frames, and my favorite covers will grace an entire wall.
Walked back toward the apartment, but decided that I wouldn't have time to make it for C's (GInger's other roommate) party that night, and I hightail it to the Globe. End up eating at the restaurant there. Horrible overpriced, but the food is good, and I end up seated at a comfy couch, just under a wonderfully breezy window, with a wonderful view of the restaurant. Plus, my waiter is really handsome.
The show is marvelous. My seat is marvelous. It's the perfect way to spend an evening in London.
Back at the apartment, C is dancing with a drunken friend. Ginger beckons me into his room, and we sit and chat while C convinces her friend that he is too drunk to make it past the door, much less back to his apartment. It's good to chat with Ginger. He seems a little less surly and pessimistic tonight. I just wish I could give him an infusion of optimism and happiness.
However, to combat this bleak picture of my friend, I shall also say that he is truly a gentleman, kind and helpful to strangers, and has an extremely dry wit. When I told him I was coming to London and would like to get together for lunch, he unreservedly opened his house to me. And once in London, he supplied me with a cell phone, and maps and books galore. Plus, he's an extremely talented photographer, and I love hearing him talk about his work.
At the Globe, they are rehearsing Midsummer Night's Dream, so we can't go into the yard or on the stage, but our guide takes us into the best seats of the house, and we watch them rehearse. It's the scene at the end where the players are performing for the Duke and his fiancee. They are marvelous. As soon as the tour is over, I hightail it to the box office. It's opening night, and the sign says "Sold Out." I wonder if I can get a matinee showing the next day and delay my trip to Bristol a couple of hours. Yes, there is a matinee performance tomorrow, but it is King Lear. Hmph. I ask if there are, by any chance, any tickets left for tonight. The ticket lady is doubtful, but takes a look. And compliments me on my gorgeous hat. And huzzah! There is ONE ticket left! Suddenly I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Over the Millesnium Bridge to the Tate Modern. I am not a big fan of modern art, but there were definitely things that drew me. Plus, the TM is so well planned and organized that one can't help but appreciate it. Can't take pictures in the TM, but here are some of the things that appealed to me (some of which just don't look good from a computer an ocean and continent away):
Walpurgis Night, by Paul Klee
Burnt Landscape II, by Fred Williams
Ishi's Light by Anish Kapoor
Seated Nude by Pablo Picasso
Six Mile Bottom by Frank Stella
Bursting Shell by C. Nevinson
Mandora by George Braque
To the Victoria & Albert Museum. It is filled with the most beautiful things. From the marble statues in the large main hall, to the costumes, to the jewelry I didn't get to see because it was being remodeled. Spent a lot of time in the gift shop. Found a bracelet whose beads somewhat approximated the chandelier necklace I want to make. So, I bought the bracelet with the express purpose of deconstructing it.
To the Design Museum. Again, I spent my time in the gift shop. Everything there was so wonderful. Ended up buying several books for friends. I bought Seven Hundred Penguins for myself.Someday I will find the perfect frames, and my favorite covers will grace an entire wall.
Walked back toward the apartment, but decided that I wouldn't have time to make it for C's (GInger's other roommate) party that night, and I hightail it to the Globe. End up eating at the restaurant there. Horrible overpriced, but the food is good, and I end up seated at a comfy couch, just under a wonderfully breezy window, with a wonderful view of the restaurant. Plus, my waiter is really handsome.
The show is marvelous. My seat is marvelous. It's the perfect way to spend an evening in London.
Back at the apartment, C is dancing with a drunken friend. Ginger beckons me into his room, and we sit and chat while C convinces her friend that he is too drunk to make it past the door, much less back to his apartment. It's good to chat with Ginger. He seems a little less surly and pessimistic tonight. I just wish I could give him an infusion of optimism and happiness.
However, to combat this bleak picture of my friend, I shall also say that he is truly a gentleman, kind and helpful to strangers, and has an extremely dry wit. When I told him I was coming to London and would like to get together for lunch, he unreservedly opened his house to me. And once in London, he supplied me with a cell phone, and maps and books galore. Plus, he's an extremely talented photographer, and I love hearing him talk about his work.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Paris Day 29: Au revoir Paris!
Cut class early to get everything done. To fromagerie to bet cheese re-vacuumed. Bought a hat for Janet. Turned in keys & got self to Gard du Nord on the metro.
Love the Chunnel. Sleepy, but tried to stay away for the first glimpse of England. At St Pancras station, it takes forever to buy an Oyster card, but the guy speaks English so well I want to kiss him.
Take the wrong train & have to backtrack. Easily find Ginger at Aldgate East & he helps me with my abominable luggage. Back at his apartment, I meet his new roommate K, here from the states to take some time off a& be creative. She is effervescent & lightens the atmosphere between Ginger & I. Glad that she comes along on our walking tour of London. First we go to the National Portrait Gallery; it’s free & open late tonight. Bluestocking exhibit of Victorian intellectual and feminist ladies. However, I find it ironic that they were names for a man. Apparently blue stockings were worn by working class men, and one wealthy man took it into his head to wear them. And it for his daring that they were named the blue stockings. Also captivated by Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare & John Donne.
Then, we walk everywhere. You name it, we saw it. Ginger has an encyclopedic knowledge of royalty & historical events. We end with a view of the London Eye & return home. My feet hurt.
Things I will miss about Paris:
the incredible cheeses and breads
the metro
my classmates, and practicing French
dancing and dancers in Paris
the excitement of being a foreigner
walking along the Seine in my superb hat
daily adventures
learning to dine, and not feelling rushed out by impatient waiters
the gardens and trees
long daylight hours
Things I will not miss about Paris:
scary, ricketty stairs. In fact, stairs at all!
horrible and curt shop personnel
carrying my abominable luggage (I am determined never again to travel with any but my small Victorinox roller with the twist handle!)
the queues
Reasons I will be glad to be home:
not having to use converters
cooking my own food
being able to communicate in my mother tongue
no fees to withdraw money from the ATM
BSG and SYTYCD (I haven't watched any tv in Paris)
getting together with my LA friends
my shower
my incredibly comfy bed!!!
Love the Chunnel. Sleepy, but tried to stay away for the first glimpse of England. At St Pancras station, it takes forever to buy an Oyster card, but the guy speaks English so well I want to kiss him.
Take the wrong train & have to backtrack. Easily find Ginger at Aldgate East & he helps me with my abominable luggage. Back at his apartment, I meet his new roommate K, here from the states to take some time off a& be creative. She is effervescent & lightens the atmosphere between Ginger & I. Glad that she comes along on our walking tour of London. First we go to the National Portrait Gallery; it’s free & open late tonight. Bluestocking exhibit of Victorian intellectual and feminist ladies. However, I find it ironic that they were names for a man. Apparently blue stockings were worn by working class men, and one wealthy man took it into his head to wear them. And it for his daring that they were named the blue stockings. Also captivated by Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare & John Donne.
Then, we walk everywhere. You name it, we saw it. Ginger has an encyclopedic knowledge of royalty & historical events. We end with a view of the London Eye & return home. My feet hurt.
Things I will miss about Paris:
the incredible cheeses and breads
the metro
my classmates, and practicing French
dancing and dancers in Paris
the excitement of being a foreigner
walking along the Seine in my superb hat
daily adventures
learning to dine, and not feelling rushed out by impatient waiters
the gardens and trees
long daylight hours
Things I will not miss about Paris:
scary, ricketty stairs. In fact, stairs at all!
horrible and curt shop personnel
carrying my abominable luggage (I am determined never again to travel with any but my small Victorinox roller with the twist handle!)
the queues
Reasons I will be glad to be home:
not having to use converters
cooking my own food
being able to communicate in my mother tongue
no fees to withdraw money from the ATM
BSG and SYTYCD (I haven't watched any tv in Paris)
getting together with my LA friends
my shower
my incredibly comfy bed!!!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Day 28: Mimi's aspirations for me
Another holiday in Paris. Bertrand and Sophie had invited me to picnic and (salsa) dance with them along the Seine. Pas is also to join them. However, I'd already made plans to picnic with Mimi, and couldn't be prevailed upon to break them.
Remembering the wonderful spread she had provided at the dinner, I'd bought some stuffed bries (one with figs, another with walnuts) at the fromagerie yesterday, and some sliced salamies and grapes as well. We met up at the Bastille. I didn't see her, and at first she didn't recognize me, all decked out in black with my chic hat. To hear her tell it, she thought to herself, "Now, there's a French woman with style!" But it was me!
Mimi brought with her another woman from her class. Jo is from Australia, and is heavily involved in theatrical arts there ... I forget which city she lived in, but seems well-connected and quite lovely. In her early to mid 60's, she and her friend are taking a year to live in Paris! If I am correct, this is Jo. I will have to netflis Parklands and watch it.
Jo leaves us after eating and resting a bit. Mimi and I go to her apartment to drop off some stuff, and to walk around Marais. We decide to go over to the ile St Louis and hang out along the Seine. Mimi is determined that I get together with Alex. I tell her it isn't going to happen, but she keeps telling me to ditch my fuzzy pants, buy some lingerie, and be extra cuddly. I laugh. I think she's more than a little invested in this, since she loves London and Londoners, and is having a fun time with her half English (the reserved bit) and half French (the passionate bit, as he described himself) man. It's fun to talk over relationships and hope and dreams with her. We come from such vastly different backgrounds, but are surprisingly similar.
We end the day with dinner at a cafe on ISL. The hostess/waitress is a vibrant lady dressed all in white, even down to her bleached blond hair and crystal jewelry. It was a lucky day when Megan got placed in the wrong class with Mimi. When she came to the beginning class, it was the impetus to get the rest of us together to share our experiences as single women in Paris. I reiterate to Mimi that if she's ever in the states, she must let me know, and stay with me if ever in California. She also tells me I must let her know if I am evern in Bahrain (unlikely) or London (distinctly possible), since she also has an apartment there.
Remembering the wonderful spread she had provided at the dinner, I'd bought some stuffed bries (one with figs, another with walnuts) at the fromagerie yesterday, and some sliced salamies and grapes as well. We met up at the Bastille. I didn't see her, and at first she didn't recognize me, all decked out in black with my chic hat. To hear her tell it, she thought to herself, "Now, there's a French woman with style!" But it was me!
Mimi brought with her another woman from her class. Jo is from Australia, and is heavily involved in theatrical arts there ... I forget which city she lived in, but seems well-connected and quite lovely. In her early to mid 60's, she and her friend are taking a year to live in Paris! If I am correct, this is Jo. I will have to netflis Parklands and watch it.
Jo leaves us after eating and resting a bit. Mimi and I go to her apartment to drop off some stuff, and to walk around Marais. We decide to go over to the ile St Louis and hang out along the Seine. Mimi is determined that I get together with Alex. I tell her it isn't going to happen, but she keeps telling me to ditch my fuzzy pants, buy some lingerie, and be extra cuddly. I laugh. I think she's more than a little invested in this, since she loves London and Londoners, and is having a fun time with her half English (the reserved bit) and half French (the passionate bit, as he described himself) man. It's fun to talk over relationships and hope and dreams with her. We come from such vastly different backgrounds, but are surprisingly similar.
We end the day with dinner at a cafe on ISL. The hostess/waitress is a vibrant lady dressed all in white, even down to her bleached blond hair and crystal jewelry. It was a lucky day when Megan got placed in the wrong class with Mimi. When she came to the beginning class, it was the impetus to get the rest of us together to share our experiences as single women in Paris. I reiterate to Mimi that if she's ever in the states, she must let me know, and stay with me if ever in California. She also tells me I must let her know if I am evern in Bahrain (unlikely) or London (distinctly possible), since she also has an apartment there.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Paris Day 27: The time is really short now ...
After class I went over to Notre Dame and climbed to the top. The view is breathtaking, and so was the climb. I stopped off at the mid-level gift shop to wander around and catch my breath. When I came out, the way up was barred by a velvet tie. I considered waiting until some nice person came along and opened it. Then I thought, "Well, that's a stupid idea. Since when a nice person comes by, they are bound to be followed by a whole horde of other people. And do I really want to be at the head of a stampede, when it's not likely that I can keep up? Or do I want to be behind all the other people who lag behind?" So, I stepped under the velvet barrier, and progressed at my own pace the rest of the way up.
I find Notre Dame to be a curious place. A catholic cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary. And yet, it is decorated with all manner of gruesome and ghoulish statues all around the outside. Shows that superstition is still well and alive in catholicism ... at least as much as in any other religion.
After taking my own sweet time coming down the stairs, it's almost mesmerizing to watch the stairs, and yet, how can one not? I make my way back to Place Maubert, to the fromagerie. I explain to the sales clerk that I am going to host a cheese party when I return to the states, so I need to buy many differenc types of cheese and have them vacuum packed for the journey. He is so enthusiastic, and keeps complimenting me on my good taste as I point to the various cheese that look good to me. In hindsight, I should have chosen more hard cheese, but the soft cheeses were what I came to love on my trip. In the end, I think I bought six or seven types of cheese!
Did a lot of last minute errands, since I'm not sure how many stores will be open tomorrow, which is thesecond national holiday in a week's time. Groceries. Over to the rental agency to report the cigarette burns on the sheet corners of the new apartment. To Laduree to buy some more boxed mini-macaroons to take to Alex's roommates and the Cogans. To the Georges Pompidou Center to buy a gift for Alex ... and really, I wracked my brain on what to get, after the unexpected gift he gave me!
Met up with Bertrand at Cour St Emilion. We walked a little through the adjacent park. He is such an enthusiastic person, which is a definite change from Alex. We picked an Italian restaurant and ate outside where it was cool and shady and breezy. Confess that I had about an ounce of his sparkling red wine. Can't say that I much like alcoholic beverages. I mostly drink to sate my thirst or cool my mouth. If I drank alcohol like I drink water, I would be a serious alkie. Toward the end, Sophie joined us for dessert.
Sophie is a gem. Adopted by a Swiss couple, she is actually from Korea. However, she grew up in France, and speaks about four or five languages. I think it is rare for her to encounter other Korean people, and she seemed to really like me, and I her. Agnes, who I remember from the WCS workshop, also joined us jsut as we were leaving the restaurant. When we got to the club, Bertrand and Sophie tried to get me in for the discounted price, but the haughty hostess would have none of it. Just said no in the plainest, shortest way possible. However, when I tried to pay my entrance, Sophie would have none of it, and sponsored me, so to speak.
They had billed the night as Rock, Salsa and WCS dancing. And while they did play about 6 WCS songs, I bemoaned the lack of truth in advertising. However, it was fun to dance with Bertrand, and watch him with Sophie and Agnes as well. I did dance with a couple other guys, but they weren't very good, and it was less painful to just watch. I just don't get the Rock rhythm, and it's just not a flexible enough dance form for me.
I did get in a couple salsa dances wih Bertrand right before I left, which had a redeeming effect on the dancing portion of the night. I left them all with invitations to visit and stay with me in Los Angeles
I find Notre Dame to be a curious place. A catholic cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Mary. And yet, it is decorated with all manner of gruesome and ghoulish statues all around the outside. Shows that superstition is still well and alive in catholicism ... at least as much as in any other religion.
After taking my own sweet time coming down the stairs, it's almost mesmerizing to watch the stairs, and yet, how can one not? I make my way back to Place Maubert, to the fromagerie. I explain to the sales clerk that I am going to host a cheese party when I return to the states, so I need to buy many differenc types of cheese and have them vacuum packed for the journey. He is so enthusiastic, and keeps complimenting me on my good taste as I point to the various cheese that look good to me. In hindsight, I should have chosen more hard cheese, but the soft cheeses were what I came to love on my trip. In the end, I think I bought six or seven types of cheese!
Did a lot of last minute errands, since I'm not sure how many stores will be open tomorrow, which is thesecond national holiday in a week's time. Groceries. Over to the rental agency to report the cigarette burns on the sheet corners of the new apartment. To Laduree to buy some more boxed mini-macaroons to take to Alex's roommates and the Cogans. To the Georges Pompidou Center to buy a gift for Alex ... and really, I wracked my brain on what to get, after the unexpected gift he gave me!
Met up with Bertrand at Cour St Emilion. We walked a little through the adjacent park. He is such an enthusiastic person, which is a definite change from Alex. We picked an Italian restaurant and ate outside where it was cool and shady and breezy. Confess that I had about an ounce of his sparkling red wine. Can't say that I much like alcoholic beverages. I mostly drink to sate my thirst or cool my mouth. If I drank alcohol like I drink water, I would be a serious alkie. Toward the end, Sophie joined us for dessert.
Sophie is a gem. Adopted by a Swiss couple, she is actually from Korea. However, she grew up in France, and speaks about four or five languages. I think it is rare for her to encounter other Korean people, and she seemed to really like me, and I her. Agnes, who I remember from the WCS workshop, also joined us jsut as we were leaving the restaurant. When we got to the club, Bertrand and Sophie tried to get me in for the discounted price, but the haughty hostess would have none of it. Just said no in the plainest, shortest way possible. However, when I tried to pay my entrance, Sophie would have none of it, and sponsored me, so to speak.
They had billed the night as Rock, Salsa and WCS dancing. And while they did play about 6 WCS songs, I bemoaned the lack of truth in advertising. However, it was fun to dance with Bertrand, and watch him with Sophie and Agnes as well. I did dance with a couple other guys, but they weren't very good, and it was less painful to just watch. I just don't get the Rock rhythm, and it's just not a flexible enough dance form for me.
I did get in a couple salsa dances wih Bertrand right before I left, which had a redeeming effect on the dancing portion of the night. I left them all with invitations to visit and stay with me in Los Angeles
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Paris Day 26: getting booted from the nest (CN)
Came home from class to find my bags (nearly) all packed. Turns out that a cleaning lady (who spoke no English), came in the morning, and was horrified that we were still there. Ginger ended up speaking with a woman at the rental agency, who impressed upon him that we had been expected to be gone yesterday, that there were another renter coming later that day, and that we needed to be out so the apartment could be cleaned for the next occupant. To which he repeatedly replied that he could not vacate the apartment without talking to me first. And so, I gather, they bantered back and forth until she finally understood that he wasn't going to leave, and left the number for me to call back.
So, there I was, totally bewildered and FREAKED OUT! Ginger left the apartment, ostensibly to get us some crepes for lunch, but also with the desire to evade the unpleasantness of the ensuing conversation between myself and the rental agency. Ironically, Gail was out to lunch, and I would need to call back in 40 minutes. By which time Ginger was already back. During this time, I frantically searched for my lease papers, which were not much help, since they described the apartment that I was to have, not the one I ended up in. However, I got rather worked up, since the date on both sets of rental contracts had the 5th as the leave ddate. Found a few emails between myself and Valerie, with my initial dates on it, and was prepared to wave the flag of indignation. However, just in case, I packed up my toiletries and got everything else ready to go.
Finally, after Ginger returned with crepes, I got a hold of Gail, and talked via Celina, whose English was better. The end of it was that we left the apartment on the promise that they would find us another.
Took a cab to the rental agency. There was no way that I would have been able to navigate with my bags through the metro. Realistically, it was difficult enough as it was, and that was with Ginger carrying the heavy duffel bag.
Got the rental agency, and discovered where the error was. It was mine. Let me explain by first telling you that the US is weird. Not only do we use the antiquated (ooh, not metric, but the other one, whose name I can't remember just now!) system of inches, pounds and Farenheit; we also write the date with the month first, instead of the day/month/year format that the rest of the world uses. Thus, I screwed myself when I mistakenly put the exit date as 5/5/08, and not 9/5/08. Luckily, Gail was quite gracious about it, and probably had a private laugh when I explained my mistake to Ginger. This is one of the reasons that I try to be pleasant, even when I want to berate someone ... because half of the time, the fault ends up being mine. I rather think this is a shame, since I would rather be right all of the time, or at least be pleasant by nature, as opposed to pleasant because I feel I have to. Gail found me an apartment a block away, and we were on our way. I'm sure it will cost me a pretty penny, being on the Right Bank. It's just as well that I paid the hefty deposit, and that I did pay for 4 weeks. Hopefully I will get something back.
The new apartment is nice, but not as great as the other apartment. And a good 400 euros more expensive per month. It stood on the second floor, past two flights of narrow, creaky stairs that looked charming, but were rather scary. Blessings again on Ginger who helped me with the bags up. And so, with the labors of the morning done, we set out to see some more Paris sights.
Out to the Marais(?) to see a glass house exhibit. Got there, foudn the address, ut it was all closed up, with no publicity at all. Ginger did manage to catch a glimpse of something through a window, but that's just because he's exceedingly tall. I saw some glass, but it didn't make any sense to me at all.
We walked and talked our way through the streets, having the most indepth conversation I've ever had with a man about the most I'd ever spent on an article of clothing. These days I don't spend a whole lot on clothing. Most of my clothes are very casual, or do double duty for dancing. However, when I think of it, the most I've ever spent was $400-ish dollars on a navy, wool, Calvin Klein coat that was heavily discounted at Nordstrom. A good investment that I still love. Ginger's was (not counting suits), an extraordinary pair of boots, which were not so extraordinary in that the Right sole still wore out faster than the Left.
Finally got the Luxembourg Gardens, and wandered around the outside, looking at the photography gallery exhibited on the gates thereof. I'm sad that I hadn't mentioned it before, but glad that I remembered in time for us both to see it. So many striking images, many of which were featured in Figaro, a prestigious magazine that I will have to look up.
Tried to dine at Le Partage, but it wasn't open yet, so we wandered about until we found another Indian restauant, the kind that's open all day. Food wasn't too bad. Although I did have to remove a few "knuckles" from my chicken dish. Wouldn't you know that Ginger had no such problem.
Back at the apartment, Ginger took his leave. But not before giving me a book of Atget's photos. How perfect.
When he left, I started making the couch ready to sleep in. Really, it pulls out, but I was too lazy to do it, and besides, I needed the space too badly to want to either. Found that there were tears/burns on the edges of the fitted sheet. However, it was clean, so I didn't worry about it. It just means another trip to the rental agency to explain it and the ice forming in the fridge.
And then I started to unpack. And realize that Ginger had packed all my things. Clothes. G's, bras, dirty laundry. My prevalent emotion upon retiring to bed was amused mortification.
So, there I was, totally bewildered and FREAKED OUT! Ginger left the apartment, ostensibly to get us some crepes for lunch, but also with the desire to evade the unpleasantness of the ensuing conversation between myself and the rental agency. Ironically, Gail was out to lunch, and I would need to call back in 40 minutes. By which time Ginger was already back. During this time, I frantically searched for my lease papers, which were not much help, since they described the apartment that I was to have, not the one I ended up in. However, I got rather worked up, since the date on both sets of rental contracts had the 5th as the leave ddate. Found a few emails between myself and Valerie, with my initial dates on it, and was prepared to wave the flag of indignation. However, just in case, I packed up my toiletries and got everything else ready to go.
Finally, after Ginger returned with crepes, I got a hold of Gail, and talked via Celina, whose English was better. The end of it was that we left the apartment on the promise that they would find us another.
Took a cab to the rental agency. There was no way that I would have been able to navigate with my bags through the metro. Realistically, it was difficult enough as it was, and that was with Ginger carrying the heavy duffel bag.
Got the rental agency, and discovered where the error was. It was mine. Let me explain by first telling you that the US is weird. Not only do we use the antiquated (ooh, not metric, but the other one, whose name I can't remember just now!) system of inches, pounds and Farenheit; we also write the date with the month first, instead of the day/month/year format that the rest of the world uses. Thus, I screwed myself when I mistakenly put the exit date as 5/5/08, and not 9/5/08. Luckily, Gail was quite gracious about it, and probably had a private laugh when I explained my mistake to Ginger. This is one of the reasons that I try to be pleasant, even when I want to berate someone ... because half of the time, the fault ends up being mine. I rather think this is a shame, since I would rather be right all of the time, or at least be pleasant by nature, as opposed to pleasant because I feel I have to. Gail found me an apartment a block away, and we were on our way. I'm sure it will cost me a pretty penny, being on the Right Bank. It's just as well that I paid the hefty deposit, and that I did pay for 4 weeks. Hopefully I will get something back.
The new apartment is nice, but not as great as the other apartment. And a good 400 euros more expensive per month. It stood on the second floor, past two flights of narrow, creaky stairs that looked charming, but were rather scary. Blessings again on Ginger who helped me with the bags up. And so, with the labors of the morning done, we set out to see some more Paris sights.
Out to the Marais(?) to see a glass house exhibit. Got there, foudn the address, ut it was all closed up, with no publicity at all. Ginger did manage to catch a glimpse of something through a window, but that's just because he's exceedingly tall. I saw some glass, but it didn't make any sense to me at all.
We walked and talked our way through the streets, having the most indepth conversation I've ever had with a man about the most I'd ever spent on an article of clothing. These days I don't spend a whole lot on clothing. Most of my clothes are very casual, or do double duty for dancing. However, when I think of it, the most I've ever spent was $400-ish dollars on a navy, wool, Calvin Klein coat that was heavily discounted at Nordstrom. A good investment that I still love. Ginger's was (not counting suits), an extraordinary pair of boots, which were not so extraordinary in that the Right sole still wore out faster than the Left.
Finally got the Luxembourg Gardens, and wandered around the outside, looking at the photography gallery exhibited on the gates thereof. I'm sad that I hadn't mentioned it before, but glad that I remembered in time for us both to see it. So many striking images, many of which were featured in Figaro, a prestigious magazine that I will have to look up.
Tried to dine at Le Partage, but it wasn't open yet, so we wandered about until we found another Indian restauant, the kind that's open all day. Food wasn't too bad. Although I did have to remove a few "knuckles" from my chicken dish. Wouldn't you know that Ginger had no such problem.
Back at the apartment, Ginger took his leave. But not before giving me a book of Atget's photos. How perfect.
When he left, I started making the couch ready to sleep in. Really, it pulls out, but I was too lazy to do it, and besides, I needed the space too badly to want to either. Found that there were tears/burns on the edges of the fitted sheet. However, it was clean, so I didn't worry about it. It just means another trip to the rental agency to explain it and the ice forming in the fridge.
And then I started to unpack. And realize that Ginger had packed all my things. Clothes. G's, bras, dirty laundry. My prevalent emotion upon retiring to bed was amused mortification.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Paris Day 25: Wandering the streets of Paris (CN)
After class, walked along the Seine. The time is so short now, and there are so many things left to see.
To the Orangerie, which stands at the head of the Tuilleries like a sentinnel, parallel to the museum with the Alex Soth exhibit. Beautiful inside. Monet's waterlillies span two enormous elliptical rooms, like an infinity sign. Despite all the people around me, it's if I'm at Giverny, seeing with his eyes. Reminds me of a conversation with Depressed MD, way back in college. Said he would often take off his glasses when walking around campus at dusk, to better feel the colors of the sunset. Hope DMD is doing better these days, although I rather doubt it.
Then to the Georges Pompidou Center. Louise Bourgois exhibit is bizarre and wacky. I quite like the enormous spider creations, and try to like the women-as-houses paintings and miscellania, but I just can't get into it. Frankly, I was more seduced by the words describing the exhibit than the exhibit itself. THere were a few things in the permanent collection that I quite liked, and used my camera to catch them. Hope to get a chance to update later. Stayed at the Pompidou until almost closing. Then again, it stays bright so late into the evening, that one hardly notices the time slipping away.
On the walk home, I met Da in the street running in front of Notre Dame. Such an eccentric character, it was hard to miss him. Had just come from a reading at the Shakespearre book shop. I'd always meant to make it to one of those, but had never managed. I'd done my requisite check to see if there was a hardcover copy of By the River Piedra, I Laid Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho, but they only had the paperback copy that graces bookstores everywhere, so I passed it by. Chatted for a few minutes, then made my escape to the apartment, where sleep awaited.
To the Orangerie, which stands at the head of the Tuilleries like a sentinnel, parallel to the museum with the Alex Soth exhibit. Beautiful inside. Monet's waterlillies span two enormous elliptical rooms, like an infinity sign. Despite all the people around me, it's if I'm at Giverny, seeing with his eyes. Reminds me of a conversation with Depressed MD, way back in college. Said he would often take off his glasses when walking around campus at dusk, to better feel the colors of the sunset. Hope DMD is doing better these days, although I rather doubt it.
Then to the Georges Pompidou Center. Louise Bourgois exhibit is bizarre and wacky. I quite like the enormous spider creations, and try to like the women-as-houses paintings and miscellania, but I just can't get into it. Frankly, I was more seduced by the words describing the exhibit than the exhibit itself. THere were a few things in the permanent collection that I quite liked, and used my camera to catch them. Hope to get a chance to update later. Stayed at the Pompidou until almost closing. Then again, it stays bright so late into the evening, that one hardly notices the time slipping away.
On the walk home, I met Da in the street running in front of Notre Dame. Such an eccentric character, it was hard to miss him. Had just come from a reading at the Shakespearre book shop. I'd always meant to make it to one of those, but had never managed. I'd done my requisite check to see if there was a hardcover copy of By the River Piedra, I Laid Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho, but they only had the paperback copy that graces bookstores everywhere, so I passed it by. Chatted for a few minutes, then made my escape to the apartment, where sleep awaited.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Paris Day 24: Sunday Services (CN)
Ginger left for the Musee D'Orsay early, which gave me leisure time to shower and get ready for church. The hardest thing about having a guest in this tiny little studio apartment is not being able to cool down enough after showering. I generally like to take my time after a shower ... slathering on lotion and letting my body cool down and dry off before dressing. But in such a small space, it's impossible to dry and cool off entirely in the small shower room, especially since it's really cramped, there is no fan, and everything is steamed up. Basically, I've been taking lukewarm showers for the past week and a half, and quickly jumping into the toilet room to change into my dry clothes.
But, this morning was lovely.
Walked up to church. It's so close, it's a shame I haven't made it before. Congregation is split linguistially ... French and Chinese speaking in one ward, English in the other. I attended the French sacrament meeting. Lots of missionaries: elder and sister pairs in both French and Chinese, so eight total! Lots of missionary testimonies, which were endearing. Two misionaries from La Canada were the only ones who spoke to me.
Went straightaway to the Musee de la Vie Romantique, which is dedicated to George Sand. I keep meaning to read a biodraphy of her, as she has fascinated me ever since I saw Impromtu.
Went back to the apartment and changed, since I was too hot in my dress and tall black boots. What a waste of time, but really, it's too hot for Paris now. On the way, I bought a huge floppy black hat, a' la Chanel at a tourist shop. It's enormous and will definitely protect me better from the sun than the two brim-skimpy hats that I got when it was cold and rainy. At the apartment I changed into linen pants and my fabulous Nike black top. Pinned a large floppy flower to the corner and felt tres chic!
Walked along Seine in my ensemble (I'm sure I looked a strange site) and got as far as the Louvre. I'd intended to go to the Orangerie, but decided to take advantage of the "first Sunday of the month is free" deal and entered the Louvre instead.
Really liked the Cupid and Psyche statue. Even liked the La Gioconda ... she always looks so drab and manly in pictures of the painting, but in person, even behind glass, she is very appealing.
Skimmed through the Italian large format paintings. Found some things that I liked. Hope to get around to posting them sometime soon.
Walked back to the apartment along the Seine and got cleaned up. Ginger necer made it back, and since I didn't want to be late for dinner at Jim's, I left a note. Confess that I looked in vain for Ginger as I walked to the metro station. When I descended the stairs, I gave it up. And then there he was, after having taken the metro for the first time. How bizarre. However, since he'd just eaten, he decided to pass on Jim's.
Dinner was fabulous. Saw Ama right away. Apparently she is staying in Jim's basement, on the goodness of his heart! Met a bunch of ex-pats and a French woman who was attending for the first time. Good time for me to practice my French, and her to practice her English!
Veer brought her sister, and we all had fun getting acquainted. Veer is just so charming and American, I don't see how anyone could not like her.
Met Da, who has the air (and accent) of a European, but is actually an Aussie. He was dressed in what looked like a smoking jacket, and says that Paris is the center of the world.
Bought one of Jim's books, and he drollfully autographed it. Such a generous, outgoing, and social character. I wish I'd come at the beginning of my Paris trip, and not the end.
When I got home, Ginger was fast asleep. Thank heavens for a little snoring, which is a general indicator if a man is sleeping or not! Showered and washed my fabulous Nike top so I could wear it during the heat of the next day.
But, this morning was lovely.
Walked up to church. It's so close, it's a shame I haven't made it before. Congregation is split linguistially ... French and Chinese speaking in one ward, English in the other. I attended the French sacrament meeting. Lots of missionaries: elder and sister pairs in both French and Chinese, so eight total! Lots of missionary testimonies, which were endearing. Two misionaries from La Canada were the only ones who spoke to me.
Went straightaway to the Musee de la Vie Romantique, which is dedicated to George Sand. I keep meaning to read a biodraphy of her, as she has fascinated me ever since I saw Impromtu.
Went back to the apartment and changed, since I was too hot in my dress and tall black boots. What a waste of time, but really, it's too hot for Paris now. On the way, I bought a huge floppy black hat, a' la Chanel at a tourist shop. It's enormous and will definitely protect me better from the sun than the two brim-skimpy hats that I got when it was cold and rainy. At the apartment I changed into linen pants and my fabulous Nike black top. Pinned a large floppy flower to the corner and felt tres chic!
Walked along Seine in my ensemble (I'm sure I looked a strange site) and got as far as the Louvre. I'd intended to go to the Orangerie, but decided to take advantage of the "first Sunday of the month is free" deal and entered the Louvre instead.
Really liked the Cupid and Psyche statue. Even liked the La Gioconda ... she always looks so drab and manly in pictures of the painting, but in person, even behind glass, she is very appealing.
Skimmed through the Italian large format paintings. Found some things that I liked. Hope to get around to posting them sometime soon.
Walked back to the apartment along the Seine and got cleaned up. Ginger necer made it back, and since I didn't want to be late for dinner at Jim's, I left a note. Confess that I looked in vain for Ginger as I walked to the metro station. When I descended the stairs, I gave it up. And then there he was, after having taken the metro for the first time. How bizarre. However, since he'd just eaten, he decided to pass on Jim's.
Dinner was fabulous. Saw Ama right away. Apparently she is staying in Jim's basement, on the goodness of his heart! Met a bunch of ex-pats and a French woman who was attending for the first time. Good time for me to practice my French, and her to practice her English!
Veer brought her sister, and we all had fun getting acquainted. Veer is just so charming and American, I don't see how anyone could not like her.
Met Da, who has the air (and accent) of a European, but is actually an Aussie. He was dressed in what looked like a smoking jacket, and says that Paris is the center of the world.
Bought one of Jim's books, and he drollfully autographed it. Such a generous, outgoing, and social character. I wish I'd come at the beginning of my Paris trip, and not the end.
When I got home, Ginger was fast asleep. Thank heavens for a little snoring, which is a general indicator if a man is sleeping or not! Showered and washed my fabulous Nike top so I could wear it during the heat of the next day.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Paris Day 23: Deja Versaille (CN)
Up to go to Versaille again.
Train crowded on the way out. Not a good sign.
Ginger and I parted company at the train station, as I wanted to visit the King's Kitchen Garden. Lovely. Liked how the trees (blossoming white and pink) were trained to grow in large-sized menorahs. Don't know much about botany at all, but I appreciated the quiet loveliness.
Stopped off at a corner market to buy water (no more waiting 35 minutes in line for me!), some nibbles, and two small bananas.
Huge queues at Versailles. Walked toward the front to see if there was a shorter line for Passport holders. There wasn't. But Ginger was still waiting in line, rather close to the start, and I was able to join him for the price of a small banana.
Parted company when inside, since he wanted to go slow, and I just wanted the Hall of Mirrors and the gardens. Hall just as grand as I remembered.
In the gardens, I walked through some of the manicured gardens I'd missed last week. Then returned to Enceladus (SP?) again because I liked to lustiness of the sculpture and music.
Rented a bike from the most unpleasant woman I've ever met. At least it seemed that way. Started biking around the Grand Canal. Noticed a guy drumming along the bike path, and my eye was drawn for a few moments as I passed. Continued to the far end, and rode around the non-paved area. Mistake, since I'm not that great a rider. So I completed the loop and continued around the GC. Just as I was thinking that it would be nice to site on one of the shady benches, a foursome left a bench right before my eyes!
I commandeered the bench, and got out my water and almonds. Before too long, a guy with a bike asked if he could join me. He looked friendly and cute, so I said oui! Turns out it was the drummer. Very friendly, spoke a little English, which made for lots of laughter, and good practice for me. Invited me down to the water's edge to relax and talk. Three hours later (after more returning the bike and more talking), I left Versailles with a bit of stubble burn on my face. Sometimes fantasies do come true.
Randomly ran into Ginger on the street in front of the Shakespearre and Co bookstore. That's twice in one day where we've serendipitously met in a crowd of people. Ate dinner and got ourselves to sleep.
Train crowded on the way out. Not a good sign.
Ginger and I parted company at the train station, as I wanted to visit the King's Kitchen Garden. Lovely. Liked how the trees (blossoming white and pink) were trained to grow in large-sized menorahs. Don't know much about botany at all, but I appreciated the quiet loveliness.
Stopped off at a corner market to buy water (no more waiting 35 minutes in line for me!), some nibbles, and two small bananas.
Huge queues at Versailles. Walked toward the front to see if there was a shorter line for Passport holders. There wasn't. But Ginger was still waiting in line, rather close to the start, and I was able to join him for the price of a small banana.
Parted company when inside, since he wanted to go slow, and I just wanted the Hall of Mirrors and the gardens. Hall just as grand as I remembered.
In the gardens, I walked through some of the manicured gardens I'd missed last week. Then returned to Enceladus (SP?) again because I liked to lustiness of the sculpture and music.
Rented a bike from the most unpleasant woman I've ever met. At least it seemed that way. Started biking around the Grand Canal. Noticed a guy drumming along the bike path, and my eye was drawn for a few moments as I passed. Continued to the far end, and rode around the non-paved area. Mistake, since I'm not that great a rider. So I completed the loop and continued around the GC. Just as I was thinking that it would be nice to site on one of the shady benches, a foursome left a bench right before my eyes!
I commandeered the bench, and got out my water and almonds. Before too long, a guy with a bike asked if he could join me. He looked friendly and cute, so I said oui! Turns out it was the drummer. Very friendly, spoke a little English, which made for lots of laughter, and good practice for me. Invited me down to the water's edge to relax and talk. Three hours later (after more returning the bike and more talking), I left Versailles with a bit of stubble burn on my face. Sometimes fantasies do come true.
Randomly ran into Ginger on the street in front of the Shakespearre and Co bookstore. That's twice in one day where we've serendipitously met in a crowd of people. Ate dinner and got ourselves to sleep.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Paris Day 22: Kooky relics (CN)
After class, went back to apartment and Ginger and I headed back to Notre Dame for the displaying of the relics: supposedly part of the Christ's crown of thorns, a nail and a bit of the cross.
Queue was amazing. Coiled around like a snake. Bizarre.
Inside of ND is immense. Stained glass not as beautiful as Chartres, but then ND was converted to a "temple of reason" during the revolution, so it's a wonder it's still standing at all. Must come back later to take tower tour.
Ceremony for the display. Ginger and I got some seats on the side, kind of near the front. Soprano singer with clear and pleasant voice lead singing. Lots of French spoken by guys in long robes that I don't understand. People standing in the aisles blocking the view. Rather rude, that. Then people lined up to kiss the glass case immediately surrounding the thorn crown, which was held by a long-robed man. The supplicants would put their forehead in the middle of the crown, and kiss the glass, which two obliging men standing on either side wiped off the glass between supplicants, WITH THE SAME LITTLE PIECE OF TISSUE! Strange, both the kissing and the wiping.
Over to the museum opposite the Orangerie for a photo exhibit by Alex Soth. I liked what he had to say. "I often say that when I am making a portrait, I'm not 'capturing' the other person. If the photograph documents anything, it is the space between the subject and myself."
And, this from the mother of the child Soth and his wife adopted, to the child, "I hope that the harshness of the world will not hurt your sensitivity. When I think about you, I hope that your life is full of beautiful things." Not very original, but it really touched me.
Some of Soth's pieces were fabulous. Others, so-so.
Was it today that Ginger told me about taking emotionally intimate pictures of good friends? Pictures that expressed more the of inner person, as opposed to the shell that people errect to protect themselves. Sounded very therapeutic and terrifying. Somehow I don't think I would sign release papers either to have strangers look at me at my most emotionally vulnerable. The concept intrigued me, but I fear that I am too self-protective to be an effective subject in such a study. I am learning more and more to be able to share my thoughts with others. But I guard my feelings very closely. As Wonder Woman once said of my Catanning ... I play it very close to the chest. There are certain people that I can be almost entirely honest and complete with, but they are few and far between.
Got over to the George Pompidou Center. Museum wasn't selling anymore tickets, but we poured over the Gift shop and the Book store. I'm entirely too vulnerable to the charm of a blank notebook. Bought several thin notebook/holder things that will be perfect for travelling and gifting.
Queue was amazing. Coiled around like a snake. Bizarre.
Inside of ND is immense. Stained glass not as beautiful as Chartres, but then ND was converted to a "temple of reason" during the revolution, so it's a wonder it's still standing at all. Must come back later to take tower tour.
Ceremony for the display. Ginger and I got some seats on the side, kind of near the front. Soprano singer with clear and pleasant voice lead singing. Lots of French spoken by guys in long robes that I don't understand. People standing in the aisles blocking the view. Rather rude, that. Then people lined up to kiss the glass case immediately surrounding the thorn crown, which was held by a long-robed man. The supplicants would put their forehead in the middle of the crown, and kiss the glass, which two obliging men standing on either side wiped off the glass between supplicants, WITH THE SAME LITTLE PIECE OF TISSUE! Strange, both the kissing and the wiping.
Over to the museum opposite the Orangerie for a photo exhibit by Alex Soth. I liked what he had to say. "I often say that when I am making a portrait, I'm not 'capturing' the other person. If the photograph documents anything, it is the space between the subject and myself."
And, this from the mother of the child Soth and his wife adopted, to the child, "I hope that the harshness of the world will not hurt your sensitivity. When I think about you, I hope that your life is full of beautiful things." Not very original, but it really touched me.
Some of Soth's pieces were fabulous. Others, so-so.
Was it today that Ginger told me about taking emotionally intimate pictures of good friends? Pictures that expressed more the of inner person, as opposed to the shell that people errect to protect themselves. Sounded very therapeutic and terrifying. Somehow I don't think I would sign release papers either to have strangers look at me at my most emotionally vulnerable. The concept intrigued me, but I fear that I am too self-protective to be an effective subject in such a study. I am learning more and more to be able to share my thoughts with others. But I guard my feelings very closely. As Wonder Woman once said of my Catanning ... I play it very close to the chest. There are certain people that I can be almost entirely honest and complete with, but they are few and far between.
Got over to the George Pompidou Center. Museum wasn't selling anymore tickets, but we poured over the Gift shop and the Book store. I'm entirely too vulnerable to the charm of a blank notebook. Bought several thin notebook/holder things that will be perfect for travelling and gifting.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Paris Day 21: Getting reacquainted with Ginger
No school today. Swept the apartment again. I don't know where all the fuzz comes from. And I wish I could get the washer/drier to work the way I want it to.
Met Ginger at Gare du Nord. Didn't recognize him at first. But he was so persistently standing in front of the Hagen Daz area, that I thought it must be him. I always expect his hair to be much darker. Anyway, good to see him again after all this time.
Called Patrice, but they'd cancelled the trip to Fontainebleu due to the weather.
Went back to apartment and dropped off stuff.
Walked and talked a lot. Weather not very bad in Paris at all. Finding restaurants is a bit of a challenge with dietary restrictions and such, but not to bad, given all the ethnic restaurants in the area.
Walked to Arc de Triomphe, where they were performing a veterans' ceremony at the flame commemorating the unknown soldier. One charming old vet had neither left leg for arm, but smiled all the same, and did his part holding a flag. I think they sang the Marseillese (sp?), and that I really enjoyed it.
Walked all the way back to the apartment. I don't think I've walked this much my entire trip.
Met Ginger at Gare du Nord. Didn't recognize him at first. But he was so persistently standing in front of the Hagen Daz area, that I thought it must be him. I always expect his hair to be much darker. Anyway, good to see him again after all this time.
Called Patrice, but they'd cancelled the trip to Fontainebleu due to the weather.
Went back to apartment and dropped off stuff.
Walked and talked a lot. Weather not very bad in Paris at all. Finding restaurants is a bit of a challenge with dietary restrictions and such, but not to bad, given all the ethnic restaurants in the area.
Walked to Arc de Triomphe, where they were performing a veterans' ceremony at the flame commemorating the unknown soldier. One charming old vet had neither left leg for arm, but smiled all the same, and did his part holding a flag. I think they sang the Marseillese (sp?), and that I really enjoyed it.
Walked all the way back to the apartment. I don't think I've walked this much my entire trip.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Paris Day 20: Free at last (CN)
Saw mom and Aunt Yo off to a cab this morning. Ahhhhh! Free at last.
Was going to meet Veer to go for some outlet shopping on the outskirts of Paris, but I couldn't find the meeting place, and when it was 30 minutes late, I just gave up and turned to go home. Of course I saw it on the way back.
Bought pastries on the way home to take to Shewi's tonight.
Since I missed Veer, I comforted myself by going to Sephora and searching for a good red lipstick, since I've been envying Mezie's for the last week. Used to wear red lipstick all the time in college and when I would dress in vintage for dancing. But I haven't done it much in the last 6 years or so. Found a terrific shade, but there were none left! Searched for another twenty minutes and found a good one. Of course, I am too undisciplined to wear red lipstick well, but I realy enjoy it for the first 30 minutes or so.
Dinner over at Shewi's place in Marais. Was admiring all the shops on the walk over, telling myself that I needed to return when they were open. Shewi lives in a fabulous apartment that she is renting from a friend's aunt. Spacious studio with lots of room to relax, dine, cook, create, entertain.
Potluck: Shewi had the most delicious breads and side dishes. I especially loved the spicy tomatoe white beans. Also wines and blood orange juice. Mezie brought the most amazing cheeses. Veer brought pate', salmon and prosciutto. And I brought fancy pastry cakes. So much fun. Talked about the war in Iraq, agressive and passive French men, state of the family, current relationships, hoped for relationships, etc. Veer told us about Gerkin and we laughed until we cried. Shewi told us about her recent flirtation, and we gave her advice on how to text and converse in an open manner, since the guy is already "into her." The girls tried to give me advice on what to do when Ginger arrived. Shave your legs. Wear sexy lingerie. Have condoms ready. How could I explain that it wasn't like that at all? For many reasons, biggest of which is the whole religion factor. Anyway, it was a fabulous, Sex-in-the-City-esque evening.
Left around 0100. Passed a beggar on the way who importuned me. I cheerfully gave him a loaf of bread, which he stared at quizically.
Was going to meet Veer to go for some outlet shopping on the outskirts of Paris, but I couldn't find the meeting place, and when it was 30 minutes late, I just gave up and turned to go home. Of course I saw it on the way back.
Bought pastries on the way home to take to Shewi's tonight.
Since I missed Veer, I comforted myself by going to Sephora and searching for a good red lipstick, since I've been envying Mezie's for the last week. Used to wear red lipstick all the time in college and when I would dress in vintage for dancing. But I haven't done it much in the last 6 years or so. Found a terrific shade, but there were none left! Searched for another twenty minutes and found a good one. Of course, I am too undisciplined to wear red lipstick well, but I realy enjoy it for the first 30 minutes or so.
Dinner over at Shewi's place in Marais. Was admiring all the shops on the walk over, telling myself that I needed to return when they were open. Shewi lives in a fabulous apartment that she is renting from a friend's aunt. Spacious studio with lots of room to relax, dine, cook, create, entertain.
Potluck: Shewi had the most delicious breads and side dishes. I especially loved the spicy tomatoe white beans. Also wines and blood orange juice. Mezie brought the most amazing cheeses. Veer brought pate', salmon and prosciutto. And I brought fancy pastry cakes. So much fun. Talked about the war in Iraq, agressive and passive French men, state of the family, current relationships, hoped for relationships, etc. Veer told us about Gerkin and we laughed until we cried. Shewi told us about her recent flirtation, and we gave her advice on how to text and converse in an open manner, since the guy is already "into her." The girls tried to give me advice on what to do when Ginger arrived. Shave your legs. Wear sexy lingerie. Have condoms ready. How could I explain that it wasn't like that at all? For many reasons, biggest of which is the whole religion factor. Anyway, it was a fabulous, Sex-in-the-City-esque evening.
Left around 0100. Passed a beggar on the way who importuned me. I cheerfully gave him a loaf of bread, which he stared at quizically.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Paris Day 19: Some places are not appropriate for lectures (CN)
To the Opera Garnier to satisfy Aunt Yo. Took forever to get those two out of the apartment. Opera house is guilded and large, and not much to my fancy. Would have preferred an English tour, but there was none available at the time we were there.
After, walked a bit. Aunt Yo saw La Maison du Chocolate, and wanted to stop and shop around. Mom was totaly not interested in the shishi-ness.
Walked to Laduree to get some fancy macaroons to send to Uncle Yu, and to get some for us to try. Very crowded. Aunt Yo just asked me to get a second identical box for her. Then scolded me when we left the shop for not getting extra bags for her to present them in. Maybe scolded is too strong. However, she lectured. A lot. As in, "I'm just trying to help you to be a better person, because giving presents in pristine bags is important to me." I was not interested in the least, but tried to pretend. Then she got upset that I wasn't listening very attentively.
Then we walked a bit to the restaurant that wasn't too far away, and that I thought the two would like. Unfortunately, they didn't open until 7:30, so I thought that we could go to the corner cafe to get something to drink, since it was starting to rain. Not a good idea, since Aunt Yo just wanted to go home. So, she lectured again. For 20 minutes in the rain on the corner in front of McDonalds. I explained that we could skip the restaurant and go back to the apartment. In the end, I had to repeat myself a few times so that she could understand what her options were, and we ended up taking the metro back to my apartment (around the same time that the restaurant would have opened), and eating again at the Le Partage (the Indo-Pakistani place). There were tears again on Aunt Yo's part, and much irritation on mine.
After, walked a bit. Aunt Yo saw La Maison du Chocolate, and wanted to stop and shop around. Mom was totaly not interested in the shishi-ness.
Walked to Laduree to get some fancy macaroons to send to Uncle Yu, and to get some for us to try. Very crowded. Aunt Yo just asked me to get a second identical box for her. Then scolded me when we left the shop for not getting extra bags for her to present them in. Maybe scolded is too strong. However, she lectured. A lot. As in, "I'm just trying to help you to be a better person, because giving presents in pristine bags is important to me." I was not interested in the least, but tried to pretend. Then she got upset that I wasn't listening very attentively.
Then we walked a bit to the restaurant that wasn't too far away, and that I thought the two would like. Unfortunately, they didn't open until 7:30, so I thought that we could go to the corner cafe to get something to drink, since it was starting to rain. Not a good idea, since Aunt Yo just wanted to go home. So, she lectured again. For 20 minutes in the rain on the corner in front of McDonalds. I explained that we could skip the restaurant and go back to the apartment. In the end, I had to repeat myself a few times so that she could understand what her options were, and we ended up taking the metro back to my apartment (around the same time that the restaurant would have opened), and eating again at the Le Partage (the Indo-Pakistani place). There were tears again on Aunt Yo's part, and much irritation on mine.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Paris Day 18: Personal time (CN)
Mom and Aunt Yo went to the Louvre, and I got some personal time. Huzzah!
After class, I went up to
Cimitere Pere Lachaise, where are buried such notaries as Abelard and Heloise, Chopin, Balzac, Jacques Louis David, Edith Piaf, Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde (who has the ugliest marker I've ever seen, but it's hilariously covered in lipstick kisses of his fans).
Walked by the Institute du Mondiale Arabe. Stunning building.
Aunt Yo tired (after JW tracting with Japanese speaking French) so mom and I ate at the corner brassiere, which was not great. Still not as bad as dinner at the Musee D'Orsay, though.
After class, I went up to
Cimitere Pere Lachaise, where are buried such notaries as Abelard and Heloise, Chopin, Balzac, Jacques Louis David, Edith Piaf, Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas, Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde (who has the ugliest marker I've ever seen, but it's hilariously covered in lipstick kisses of his fans).
Walked by the Institute du Mondiale Arabe. Stunning building.
Aunt Yo tired (after JW tracting with Japanese speaking French) so mom and I ate at the corner brassiere, which was not great. Still not as bad as dinner at the Musee D'Orsay, though.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Paris Day 17: Versailles (cliffnotes)
Up early, but still left an hour later than I'd hoped.
Bought Le Passport: All Versaille entry, plus RER tickets.
Long lines at Versaille. We got into a line for timed tickets, and I got worried that we would get sent back, but it all merged at the front, and we passed in without incident.
Luxe. All the rooms sort of mash together. Didn't think I would like the Hall of Mirrors, but it is just beautiful, despite all the trimmings. Didn't know that queens gave birth before an audience in order to quell murmurings of heir tampering. No wonder Marie Antoinette wearied of the pomp and circumstance of the Versaille court, and wanted a separate area. Loved the dandelions that grow haphazardly over her grounds. I waxed romantically, and thought it was so fitting that the Sun King's wife had the sunny yello flowers strewn all over her grounds. Sun in the yellow flowers, moon in the puffballs.
Rented a bike as Superman recommended, and rode around the Grand Canal. It's been so long since I've been on a bike, and mine was a little rickety ... thought I might end up with a skinned elbow or two. But I was fine. It was like flying. So refreshing and delightful. With the music playing, I felt as if I could have been a courtier promenading around the magnificent grounds.
Walked a bit around the gardens (no bikes allowed). Love the music and the fountains spraying, especially the Enceladus fountain, which seemed to be bellowing operatic music with the water spray.
Orangerie was just lovely.
And I love hedge rows.
Bought Le Passport: All Versaille entry, plus RER tickets.
Long lines at Versaille. We got into a line for timed tickets, and I got worried that we would get sent back, but it all merged at the front, and we passed in without incident.
Luxe. All the rooms sort of mash together. Didn't think I would like the Hall of Mirrors, but it is just beautiful, despite all the trimmings. Didn't know that queens gave birth before an audience in order to quell murmurings of heir tampering. No wonder Marie Antoinette wearied of the pomp and circumstance of the Versaille court, and wanted a separate area. Loved the dandelions that grow haphazardly over her grounds. I waxed romantically, and thought it was so fitting that the Sun King's wife had the sunny yello flowers strewn all over her grounds. Sun in the yellow flowers, moon in the puffballs.
Rented a bike as Superman recommended, and rode around the Grand Canal. It's been so long since I've been on a bike, and mine was a little rickety ... thought I might end up with a skinned elbow or two. But I was fine. It was like flying. So refreshing and delightful. With the music playing, I felt as if I could have been a courtier promenading around the magnificent grounds.
Walked a bit around the gardens (no bikes allowed). Love the music and the fountains spraying, especially the Enceladus fountain, which seemed to be bellowing operatic music with the water spray.
Orangerie was just lovely.
And I love hedge rows.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Paris Day 16: Taking some space (cliffnotes)
Went to the open market across the street for mom and Aunt Yo to have a look-see. Found some of the salad greens that I've been relishing at restaurants.
Out to Arc de Triomphe. Neither Aunt Yo nor mom wanted to go inside, so I skipped it yet again.
Walked for a bit along the Champs Elysee. But having gone a block or two, Aunt Yo was ready to be done.
Took metro to start of the garden area of the Champs Elysee.
Then took the metro out to Place de la Concorde, and walked a bit in the Tuillerie. But Aunt Yo didn't want to walk anymore. So, we exited the park and took the metro back to my apartment.
At the intersection of two lines, Aunt Yo decided that she was okay to go back to the apartment by herself (she had to be back in time to change and get ready for her JW meeting ... she's extremely devout and ALWAYS goes to [at least] weekly meetings, no matter where in the world she is). So, we let her go!
Mom and I went out to Montmartre!!! Was going to take the funiculaire, but mom said that she was okay to climb the stairs, so we did. Seemed as if everyone in Paris was out on the butte. However, the view from the top was amazing.
Sacre Coeur was, as MeMc said, a little jewel box of a church. I loved the modern-ish stained glass. It reminded me a little of the stained glass wonder in Morocco. We rested a bit and cooled off and contemplated the Byzantine splendor of the interior.
After, we walked and found the Musee de Montmartre. Fascinating. I wish more of it was in English. Or that I understood more French. Or that I'd read up on it more before coming. The subject is going on my reading list.
Walked a bit and saw the oldest moulin, which is now a restaurant. Skipped the Moulin Rouge.
The Abbesses metro station has the longest spiral staircase of any metro station I've ever been in!
Dinner at Le Partage, the restaurant on the ground floor of my building. Indo-Pakistani food. The head-waiter (owner?) had invited me earlier in my stay. Very nice. Wanted to bring us (alcoholic) drinks, but since we don't drink, he brought us specialty juices instead. Food very good. Took a very long time to get the check, Is it politeness to let us have the table for the entire night? Nice, but what I really wanted to do was go to the RER station and buy the tickets for Versaille. Aunt Yo came home from her meeting just after we'd ordered dessert. A little over an hour from that time, mom left to go upstairs because she couldn't wait to go to the bathroom any longer. Finally got the check, paid, and hiked over to St. Michel, but the caisse was closed. Oh well.
Out to Arc de Triomphe. Neither Aunt Yo nor mom wanted to go inside, so I skipped it yet again.
Walked for a bit along the Champs Elysee. But having gone a block or two, Aunt Yo was ready to be done.
Took metro to start of the garden area of the Champs Elysee.
Then took the metro out to Place de la Concorde, and walked a bit in the Tuillerie. But Aunt Yo didn't want to walk anymore. So, we exited the park and took the metro back to my apartment.
At the intersection of two lines, Aunt Yo decided that she was okay to go back to the apartment by herself (she had to be back in time to change and get ready for her JW meeting ... she's extremely devout and ALWAYS goes to [at least] weekly meetings, no matter where in the world she is). So, we let her go!
Mom and I went out to Montmartre!!! Was going to take the funiculaire, but mom said that she was okay to climb the stairs, so we did. Seemed as if everyone in Paris was out on the butte. However, the view from the top was amazing.
Sacre Coeur was, as MeMc said, a little jewel box of a church. I loved the modern-ish stained glass. It reminded me a little of the stained glass wonder in Morocco. We rested a bit and cooled off and contemplated the Byzantine splendor of the interior.
After, we walked and found the Musee de Montmartre. Fascinating. I wish more of it was in English. Or that I understood more French. Or that I'd read up on it more before coming. The subject is going on my reading list.
Walked a bit and saw the oldest moulin, which is now a restaurant. Skipped the Moulin Rouge.
The Abbesses metro station has the longest spiral staircase of any metro station I've ever been in!
Dinner at Le Partage, the restaurant on the ground floor of my building. Indo-Pakistani food. The head-waiter (owner?) had invited me earlier in my stay. Very nice. Wanted to bring us (alcoholic) drinks, but since we don't drink, he brought us specialty juices instead. Food very good. Took a very long time to get the check, Is it politeness to let us have the table for the entire night? Nice, but what I really wanted to do was go to the RER station and buy the tickets for Versaille. Aunt Yo came home from her meeting just after we'd ordered dessert. A little over an hour from that time, mom left to go upstairs because she couldn't wait to go to the bathroom any longer. Finally got the check, paid, and hiked over to St. Michel, but the caisse was closed. Oh well.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Paris Day 15: Of Stone and Steel (cliffnotes)
Went to The Rodin Museum today. Favorite piece was Le Main de Dieu. Literally, Adam and Eve craddled in the hand of God. Took my breath away. Definitely prefer marble over bronze pieces.
Also saw special Camille Claudel exhibit. I loved The Waltz, in all the various configurations that they had.
Dinner at Cafe Constant. Third restaurant on my list, but it was wonderful. We were the first ones there, and waited a bit at the tables outside until they opened. Delicious food! Highly recommend it.
Over to the Eiffel Tower. It's spectacular. More later. Unable to buy ticket to third level at the bottom. Then, when we were at the second level, they started letting people up to the third level. Pain to get to a machine that would let us buy tickets. Then had to wait in line. Finally got to top and stayed for a bit. Home late. Walked a bit long the Seine to the RER station. Then Aunt Yo had a fit about walking from St. Michel to my apartment. I was annoyed, but decided not to make a big deal of it. But Aunt Yo and my mother got into it, and a few harsh words were said. Feelings were hurt. And I think they just decided to disagree. This from my elementary Japanese ...
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Paris Day 14: Finding ways to get along (cliffnotes)
After class, went back to apartment to pick up mom and Aunt Yo.
To Luxemborg gardens, since Aunt Yo expressed a desire to see famous gardens. However, it wasn't really her thing.
Checked out St. Suplice. I hope to come back for an organ concert after Sunday mass, or on 4/29.
Musee D'Orsay. Aunt Yo needed some special attention to find a place to sit and relax and have some refreshment. It's not a generational difference, because my mother is just like me ... energetic and wanting to see everything. Aunt Yo is like a prim and proper lady from the 50's. Most of the time it's fine. Sometimes it's maddening.
Loved C. Claudel's "Age of Maturity," and the display on Le Chat Noir. The rest is a bit of a blur right now.
Had dinner at the museum cafe, which was recommended. In a word, it was horrible. The worst dinner I hope to have in my stay in Paris!
To Luxemborg gardens, since Aunt Yo expressed a desire to see famous gardens. However, it wasn't really her thing.
Checked out St. Suplice. I hope to come back for an organ concert after Sunday mass, or on 4/29.
Musee D'Orsay. Aunt Yo needed some special attention to find a place to sit and relax and have some refreshment. It's not a generational difference, because my mother is just like me ... energetic and wanting to see everything. Aunt Yo is like a prim and proper lady from the 50's. Most of the time it's fine. Sometimes it's maddening.
Loved C. Claudel's "Age of Maturity," and the display on Le Chat Noir. The rest is a bit of a blur right now.
Had dinner at the museum cafe, which was recommended. In a word, it was horrible. The worst dinner I hope to have in my stay in Paris!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Paris Day 13: Company arrival (cliffnotes)
Mother and Aunt Yo arrived today. Went to CDG to pick them up. Met, and took taxi back to city without any hitches.
Dinner at cafe in front of Notre Dame, where I had dinner with Pas before.
Dinner at cafe in front of Notre Dame, where I had dinner with Pas before.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The Cliff Notes version
I'm falling so far behind! So here are a few notes. I'll flesh it out and add pix later.
Fri 4/18: Out to Le Moving for the WCS All-Stars dance event. All level class. Fabulous. Olivier Rio complemented my dancing from last week. Evening dance not very good ... no dedicated WCS room. Tried Rock dancing, which is very, very fast! Pas never showed up. Asked Vincent if he knew anyone going back to Paris, he asked another friend, and a very nice and talented woman gave me a ride back to the south of the city, and I taxied back to my place by 0400.
Sat 4/19: Up early and out to Le Moving for the first class. Exhausted. Some good and some not-so-good dancers in the intermediate level. Talked again with B-Boy, who is one of the better dancers at this level. Sushi for lunch, talked a bit with Laurent. More classes. Dinner out at Belle Epine Center: creperie with Greek P, B-Boy, Valerie, Phil, and another woman. Tried a little cidre in the traditional Bretan bowl. Also tried andouille and andouillette, both of which I didn't like. More dancing for late night. Got to dance with John Lindo!!! and Olivier. Pas didn't make it, but Laet gave me a ride home, very late at night.
Sun 4/20: Up early again! Made it for the second class. Very exhausted. Sushi lunch with B-Boy and some others. Filmed some rock dancing. Exchanged emails, etc. Laet again kindly gave me ride back to apartment. Did laundry, cleaned and slept!
Mon 4/21: Nothing much exciting today. Class. Went out to Gare du Nord to scope it out for when Ginger arrives and when I leave for London. Do-able. Slept.
Tues: Met MeMc in class. Fun. Had lunch with her and Mimsy somewhere in Marais. Curry and the most delicious chocolate cake. Must find out what it is later. Planned to go to Musee D-Orsay, but not feeling well, so went back to apartment, took some medicine, laundered sheets and slept. Out to dinner in Bastille with Mimsy, MeMc and Veronica, who (funnily enough, is a couchsurfer!). Exchanged life stories, mostly about dating or at least trying to, and reaffirmed that it's marvelous to be an independant woman travelling abroad with many options. Had escargot (yummy ... mostly butter and garlic) and lamb kidney (okay, tastes of liver, not something I would feel like I needed to order again). MeMc's steak was the best thing ... buttery. Delicious desserts. Walked back to Bastille.
Fri 4/18: Out to Le Moving for the WCS All-Stars dance event. All level class. Fabulous. Olivier Rio complemented my dancing from last week. Evening dance not very good ... no dedicated WCS room. Tried Rock dancing, which is very, very fast! Pas never showed up. Asked Vincent if he knew anyone going back to Paris, he asked another friend, and a very nice and talented woman gave me a ride back to the south of the city, and I taxied back to my place by 0400.
Sat 4/19: Up early and out to Le Moving for the first class. Exhausted. Some good and some not-so-good dancers in the intermediate level. Talked again with B-Boy, who is one of the better dancers at this level. Sushi for lunch, talked a bit with Laurent. More classes. Dinner out at Belle Epine Center: creperie with Greek P, B-Boy, Valerie, Phil, and another woman. Tried a little cidre in the traditional Bretan bowl. Also tried andouille and andouillette, both of which I didn't like. More dancing for late night. Got to dance with John Lindo!!! and Olivier. Pas didn't make it, but Laet gave me a ride home, very late at night.
Sun 4/20: Up early again! Made it for the second class. Very exhausted. Sushi lunch with B-Boy and some others. Filmed some rock dancing. Exchanged emails, etc. Laet again kindly gave me ride back to apartment. Did laundry, cleaned and slept!
Mon 4/21: Nothing much exciting today. Class. Went out to Gare du Nord to scope it out for when Ginger arrives and when I leave for London. Do-able. Slept.
Tues: Met MeMc in class. Fun. Had lunch with her and Mimsy somewhere in Marais. Curry and the most delicious chocolate cake. Must find out what it is later. Planned to go to Musee D-Orsay, but not feeling well, so went back to apartment, took some medicine, laundered sheets and slept. Out to dinner in Bastille with Mimsy, MeMc and Veronica, who (funnily enough, is a couchsurfer!). Exchanged life stories, mostly about dating or at least trying to, and reaffirmed that it's marvelous to be an independant woman travelling abroad with many options. Had escargot (yummy ... mostly butter and garlic) and lamb kidney (okay, tastes of liver, not something I would feel like I needed to order again). MeMc's steak was the best thing ... buttery. Delicious desserts. Walked back to Bastille.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Paris Day 7: A hodge-podge of posh
After class today, I took the metro out to the Arc de Triomphe. Sadly, it was closed due to a strike, and I couldn't climb to the top. It is immense, formidable and grand, and I marvelled at the intricacy of the carvings as I walked around and through it. I paid tribute to the unknown soldier, and imagined what it would have been like to see the Allied forces parading to the Arc after the liberation of Paris.
Walked down the Champs Elysee, even stopping to shop. Okay, it was at the Nike store, for a top to wear dancing (I like the yoga/dance inspired athletic wear because of the dri-weave), but still!
I love the garden areas of the Champs Elysee. The trees are so green, and the flower beds are so pretty, that it's easy to disregard the cars and imagine that there are fancy carriages transporting the gentry for their afternoon cruising. Decided that the day was too beautiful not to indulge in a Nutella crepe.
I cut over to the side, and found the Laduree shop that Little Voice recommended for macaroons. So, I intended to buy four mini-macaroons. At the register, it seems as if the guy had put five in the bag, and then the register lady added an extra one, the reasoning is still a mystery to me. The macaroons were heavenly. Thank goodness they are small.
Wandered a little further, and came upon the Eglise Madeleine. What good luck! I'd seen an advertisement for a concert of Mozart's Requiem and Vivaldi's Magnificat, and had been meaning to look it up. The church is very large, much larger than the small one around the corner where I heard the Chopin concert. Anyway, I liked the sculpture at the top in front ... Christ in in the center, with many images on either side, but Mary Magdalene sits just to his left. I suppose it would have been more fitting to have her on his right. Whatever, I liked that there is a cathedral that honors the significance of her discipleship. She was a devout follower of Christ, and was the first mortal to whoom he appeared.
Went then to see the
Paris Story movie. Can't really recommend it, since I fell asleep for about 15 minutes, I think.
Also stopped by the Fragonard Perfume Museum. It would have been more interesting if they had had the English guide. But they didn't, and although I tried it with the Italian guide, I quickly tuned out. I sampled a few of the solid perfumes, but none of them appealed more than the perfume I got duty-free, so I left without spending any money there. I wish more fragrance companies made solid perfume ... it's so much more convenient than spray bottles! Much easier to pack, and one doesn't have to douse oneself, but can discreetly place a little bit at strategic spots.
Made my way back to the Place du Concord, and entered the Tuileries Gardens that lead up to the Louvre. Again, I love the trees. Eventhough there are many people walking and sitting and eating about, there is a certain air of seclusion and privacy as I meader through the tree paths. It's too bad I haven't a lover here. Or at all for that matter.
I finally get to the fountain pool at the end, and indeed, there are children shrieking over their miniature sail boats. I with I had Precious' knack with a camera. I love her picture of the colorful sailboats. I may have to ask her if I can make a large print of it and some of her other Eiffel Tower photos.
And then over to see Pei's pyramid that marks the touristy entrance to the Louvre. There are many people in line, and I am disinclined to enter at this time. Maybe a nighttime entrance when there are fewer people? I marvel at the juxtaposition of Pei's ultra-modern spaced pyramids, amid the baroque (I'm guessing here) surrounding buildings. I'm generally not a fan of ultra-modern anything, but I liked what Pei did. Only I wondered where they got the shot of Tom Hanks crawling over the Louvre at the very end. Don't worry if you didn't see the film ... it wasn't very good.
Continued walking through to the courtyard at the far end, and was charmed by a couple of classical musicians playing for pennies (or dimes, as the euro is so strong).
And then a short walk back to my apartment. Once there, I fuzzled about wanting to go out again for the concert. And the going-out-side won the debate.
In short, the concert was amazing. The Magnificat was performed by a 10 piece (or so) string orchestra, with a violin soloist who was, as the title reads, magnificent. Her fingers were so nimble that often I would see her fingers move down the fingerboard to the waist, and only then hear the music run up the scale. And the music! It gave me the thrills throughout my body that I had missed at the Chopin concert. The reverberation in the church was at times disconcerting. I counted it as about 3.5 to 4 seconds.
The Requiem (D Minor?) was superb. The conductor wore tails, and had the floppy, frizzy, gray hair that seems so appropriate for a man who pulls such excellent music from instrumental and vocal musicians. The Requiem was rich, vibrant, passionate and minor in the way I love. Again, thrills galore, on top of the shivering because it was so frigid in the marble church. My favorite part of the Requiem is the Lacrimosa. When I get home I'll have to get the cd's from Spork, who turned me on to the music in the first place. The music was performed by an orchestra, a large choir, and four soloists.
Wandered back to my apartment (no glistening this time!), and found a reminder that it was my turn to post at
The Exponent. If you haven't checked out our new site, you should give it a gander. Pilgrimsteps has put a momentous amount of work into customizing it, and it looks just fantastic. Here is my post, on Paris, of course!
Walked down the Champs Elysee, even stopping to shop. Okay, it was at the Nike store, for a top to wear dancing (I like the yoga/dance inspired athletic wear because of the dri-weave), but still!
I love the garden areas of the Champs Elysee. The trees are so green, and the flower beds are so pretty, that it's easy to disregard the cars and imagine that there are fancy carriages transporting the gentry for their afternoon cruising. Decided that the day was too beautiful not to indulge in a Nutella crepe.
I cut over to the side, and found the Laduree shop that Little Voice recommended for macaroons. So, I intended to buy four mini-macaroons. At the register, it seems as if the guy had put five in the bag, and then the register lady added an extra one, the reasoning is still a mystery to me. The macaroons were heavenly. Thank goodness they are small.
Wandered a little further, and came upon the Eglise Madeleine. What good luck! I'd seen an advertisement for a concert of Mozart's Requiem and Vivaldi's Magnificat, and had been meaning to look it up. The church is very large, much larger than the small one around the corner where I heard the Chopin concert. Anyway, I liked the sculpture at the top in front ... Christ in in the center, with many images on either side, but Mary Magdalene sits just to his left. I suppose it would have been more fitting to have her on his right. Whatever, I liked that there is a cathedral that honors the significance of her discipleship. She was a devout follower of Christ, and was the first mortal to whoom he appeared.
Went then to see the
Paris Story movie. Can't really recommend it, since I fell asleep for about 15 minutes, I think.
Also stopped by the Fragonard Perfume Museum. It would have been more interesting if they had had the English guide. But they didn't, and although I tried it with the Italian guide, I quickly tuned out. I sampled a few of the solid perfumes, but none of them appealed more than the perfume I got duty-free, so I left without spending any money there. I wish more fragrance companies made solid perfume ... it's so much more convenient than spray bottles! Much easier to pack, and one doesn't have to douse oneself, but can discreetly place a little bit at strategic spots.
Made my way back to the Place du Concord, and entered the Tuileries Gardens that lead up to the Louvre. Again, I love the trees. Eventhough there are many people walking and sitting and eating about, there is a certain air of seclusion and privacy as I meader through the tree paths. It's too bad I haven't a lover here. Or at all for that matter.I finally get to the fountain pool at the end, and indeed, there are children shrieking over their miniature sail boats. I with I had Precious' knack with a camera. I love her picture of the colorful sailboats. I may have to ask her if I can make a large print of it and some of her other Eiffel Tower photos.
And then over to see Pei's pyramid that marks the touristy entrance to the Louvre. There are many people in line, and I am disinclined to enter at this time. Maybe a nighttime entrance when there are fewer people? I marvel at the juxtaposition of Pei's ultra-modern spaced pyramids, amid the baroque (I'm guessing here) surrounding buildings. I'm generally not a fan of ultra-modern anything, but I liked what Pei did. Only I wondered where they got the shot of Tom Hanks crawling over the Louvre at the very end. Don't worry if you didn't see the film ... it wasn't very good.Continued walking through to the courtyard at the far end, and was charmed by a couple of classical musicians playing for pennies (or dimes, as the euro is so strong).
And then a short walk back to my apartment. Once there, I fuzzled about wanting to go out again for the concert. And the going-out-side won the debate.
In short, the concert was amazing. The Magnificat was performed by a 10 piece (or so) string orchestra, with a violin soloist who was, as the title reads, magnificent. Her fingers were so nimble that often I would see her fingers move down the fingerboard to the waist, and only then hear the music run up the scale. And the music! It gave me the thrills throughout my body that I had missed at the Chopin concert. The reverberation in the church was at times disconcerting. I counted it as about 3.5 to 4 seconds.
The Requiem (D Minor?) was superb. The conductor wore tails, and had the floppy, frizzy, gray hair that seems so appropriate for a man who pulls such excellent music from instrumental and vocal musicians. The Requiem was rich, vibrant, passionate and minor in the way I love. Again, thrills galore, on top of the shivering because it was so frigid in the marble church. My favorite part of the Requiem is the Lacrimosa. When I get home I'll have to get the cd's from Spork, who turned me on to the music in the first place. The music was performed by an orchestra, a large choir, and four soloists.
Wandered back to my apartment (no glistening this time!), and found a reminder that it was my turn to post at
The Exponent. If you haven't checked out our new site, you should give it a gander. Pilgrimsteps has put a momentous amount of work into customizing it, and it looks just fantastic. Here is my post, on Paris, of course!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Paris Day 6: Pilgrimage to Chartres
Was going to walk along the Champs Elysee today, but it was so fine, that I decided to journey out to Chartres. It's a UNESCO World Heritage site. Secularly, it's known for being the best preserved representation of Gothic architecture. It survived the revolution in France because the explosives expert said that to demolish it would create too much ruble and block the roads. During WWII, the famous stained glass windows were removed and stored in the countryside for safe kepping. It's truly grand and spectacular, with towering ceilings, brilliant stained glass, flying buttresses everywhere, and instricate scuplture all over.
On the ecclesiastical side, it's a Marian pilgrimage site. Somewhere back in the 9th century, Charles the Bald (what a name ... too bad he didn't just shave it off ike Aggasse!) gave Chartres the Sancta Camisia, a piece of cloth that Mary was supposed to have worn when she gave birth to Christ. In the 12th century, a fire burned down most of the building, but the fabric was found miraculously preserved, and motivated benefactors and townspeople alike to build another cathedral in 30 short years to celebrate Notre Dame. The small bit of fabric that remains is encased in an ornate glass case, which seems as odds with such a humble garment. Picture in your mind an aged piece of linen (the fabric, not the collective term), gently yellowed, and you won't be far off.
There is also a labyrinth inscribed in the stonework of the cathedral main floor, where the faithful would make a symbolic pilgrimage in honor of Mary. I would have liked to walk it, but it was mostly covered with chairs. Interestingly enough, the near rose window pictured above is equidistant from the corner of floor and wall, so that if the wall fell into the church, the window would cover the labyrinth.
I took the afternoon tour with Malcom Miller, a rather crusty-looking, but actually gentle British scholar who has focused and continues to focus his life on this cathedral. He discussed two stained glass windows in particular. The first was donated to the cathedral by the shoemakers' guild of the time. It features a couple of corner shoemaker images, but the body of the window recounts the parable of the Good Samaritan and the biblical account of Adam and Eve's fall. It was the first time I'd ever thought about the link between the two. Adam, Eve and the Waylaid man representing humankind, and the Seed of the Woman and the Good Samaritan representing Christ.
Miller also reviewed the "zodiac" window. It shows the symbols of the zodiac, and how they were used to note the passage of time during the year.
I think my favorite window, besides the glorious rose windows, which were too far away to actually tell if there were visual stories, was the one of Mary in the blue robe, holding the Christ-child. Something about the expression on her face, or the luminescent quality of her robes just entranced me.
Sadly, I wasn't able to climb to the top of the north tower. The last tour commenced just after Miller's tour began. Sad, since P. Frommer said that there were more afternoon tours, and I'd expected to be able to ascend. Should have read R. Steve's info bit instead!
I did take the tour of the crypt, but it was all in French, and the guide was no Christine. In fact, there was no interaction between him and the other five people on the tour ... we might have been using an audio guide. The crypt, like the rest of the cathedral, was bone-chillingly cold. G's, t-shirt, sweater, raincoat with liner, alpaca shawl, hat, gloves, and I was still freezing. Sad to say, the crypt was a non-event. No bones, just less-fancy stained glass windows for a bunch of little chapels.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Paris Day 5: Why woman and wife are the same word in French
Une femme = a woman. Un homme = a man (I think there may be an apostraphe, but I'm not sure)
Ma femme = my wife (or literaly, my woman). Mon mari = my husband
Christine generally uses issues or situations to help us learn French. Today we talked about possesives, and different types of living spaces. My/your/their/etc mother/father/etc, lives in a(n) apartment/house/condo/etc.
As of 2002, France's divorce rate is 38.3% of marriages. And since divorces are so costly and lengthy here, more and more people are just living together, forming what I guess are common-law marriages. Christine used a term, which I think sounded something like "Pax," but I could be entirely wrong.
Then again, the US divorce rate was 45.8%. That's one thing that we beat the French at ...
Ma femme = my wife (or literaly, my woman). Mon mari = my husband
Christine generally uses issues or situations to help us learn French. Today we talked about possesives, and different types of living spaces. My/your/their/etc mother/father/etc, lives in a(n) apartment/house/condo/etc.
As of 2002, France's divorce rate is 38.3% of marriages. And since divorces are so costly and lengthy here, more and more people are just living together, forming what I guess are common-law marriages. Christine used a term, which I think sounded something like "Pax," but I could be entirely wrong.
Then again, the US divorce rate was 45.8%. That's one thing that we beat the French at ...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Paris Day 4: Mon premiere cours en Francais
First day of French class at Lutece Langue. I walk, since it's just a few blocks ... quicker to walk than change metro stations, especially with the stairs! It's very cold in the morning, and while I'm enjoying my hat and gloves, I wish I'd have brought a heavier coat. Then again, when I get to school, I have to peel off the layers as soon as I enter the building, since by then I'm starting to glisten.
Class is small and informal. Christine is the teacher ... medium-ish everything: height, weight, hair, etc. But she's very animated, in a style tres Parisienne. It's pretty easy to understand when she speaks French, because she gestures a lot, and speaks more slowly, and pronounces words more distinctly than the general Parisian. The class reminds me a lot of when Francesca taught my beginning Italian class at UCI. We try not to speak English at all, and there is lots of participation.
The class is small ... 4-7 people depending on the day of the week, and time slot. I'm in the intensive program, so I take 3 hours every weekday. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but by 1215, I'm ready to be done. The other people in the class ...
Diana, from Texas. Retired teacher (of what I don't know). She's probably in her mid-60's. Feminist, as I later found out. Has been staying with her sister in Paris for 2 months now, and decided it was time to learn some French. She's lived in Europe and the Middle East, in what she describes as her hippy days. I would never have thought it, since she appears to be a trim little grandmother-type who's come to Paris for a two week vacation. She is a total eager beaver, and tends to dominate class time, although with lots of bonhomie.
Maria and Cayo are mother and son from Brazil. They are in Paris for an extended time because the father of the family is working here for a while. They frequently lapse into Portuguese since Maria tends to have a difficult time picking up French. It's interesting to listen, because I can pick up tendrils of their chatter since Portuguese is a cousin to Spanish.
Amanda is from Australia, and seems to also be on extended vacation in Paris. From what I can gather, she's been to Italy on this same trip, and has family scattered all over the world. I'm jealous that she has a credit card with a chip, and can use the city rental bicycles, eventhough the walk to school is quite pleasant. If pressed, I'd guess she's in her mid to late twenties. I think her pronunciation is the best, although she often gets stuck for a word, and clucks her tongue until she can find other words to describe the one she's searching for. She uses her imagination when we have to make up situation dialogues, and makes me laugh.
Jason is from somewhere in the states, and seems to be a yoga-inspired kind of guy. Very tanned. Fit. Wears loose/flowy pants. I had no idea that Paris would be the kind to attract serious yoga practitioners for extended visits, but one never knows. I'd put him at mid-twenties. Aside from Diana, Jason is the most vocal, and although his pronunciation isn't as good at Amanda's, he does pretty well.
Veronica is another US expat. Don't know a lot about her, since she's been ill recently, and has missed a lot of classes.
After class, I stopped by the nearby H&M, ostensibly to get another shirt for dancing (who knew there would be so much of it?), and ended up getting a smart belted jacket as well. Of course, it would have been better to get a warmer one than the one I brought with me, but all the clothes in the stores are focused on resort-wear, despite the frigid temperatures. Also stopped by a large department store (CBH? everything from fashion to hardware) to get a folder and hole punch to organize my class handouts. We don't use a single text book, but zeroxed handouts that we're given daily. On the one hand, it's nice not to have to pay for a book, on the other hand, it would have been nice to have a reference book. I still say it's a shame that dad tossed out JLITH's beginning French textbook, especially since there are so many other things that I wish he would toss out instead.
I also stopped at a bakery to get a fresh baguette to eat with my cheese. Shall I jsut say that fresh bread deserves a moment of silence ...
Back at the apartment, I started a spreadsheet to track my expenses. Whew, the money goes fast, especially since the dollar is so down. All I can say is huzzah for no foreign transaction fees on my credit card, and all that overtime I did the last few months.
And also huzzah for free WiFi. Was able to chat wih Wry-an and Perky for a bit.
Class is small and informal. Christine is the teacher ... medium-ish everything: height, weight, hair, etc. But she's very animated, in a style tres Parisienne. It's pretty easy to understand when she speaks French, because she gestures a lot, and speaks more slowly, and pronounces words more distinctly than the general Parisian. The class reminds me a lot of when Francesca taught my beginning Italian class at UCI. We try not to speak English at all, and there is lots of participation.
The class is small ... 4-7 people depending on the day of the week, and time slot. I'm in the intensive program, so I take 3 hours every weekday. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but by 1215, I'm ready to be done. The other people in the class ...
Diana, from Texas. Retired teacher (of what I don't know). She's probably in her mid-60's. Feminist, as I later found out. Has been staying with her sister in Paris for 2 months now, and decided it was time to learn some French. She's lived in Europe and the Middle East, in what she describes as her hippy days. I would never have thought it, since she appears to be a trim little grandmother-type who's come to Paris for a two week vacation. She is a total eager beaver, and tends to dominate class time, although with lots of bonhomie.
Maria and Cayo are mother and son from Brazil. They are in Paris for an extended time because the father of the family is working here for a while. They frequently lapse into Portuguese since Maria tends to have a difficult time picking up French. It's interesting to listen, because I can pick up tendrils of their chatter since Portuguese is a cousin to Spanish.
Amanda is from Australia, and seems to also be on extended vacation in Paris. From what I can gather, she's been to Italy on this same trip, and has family scattered all over the world. I'm jealous that she has a credit card with a chip, and can use the city rental bicycles, eventhough the walk to school is quite pleasant. If pressed, I'd guess she's in her mid to late twenties. I think her pronunciation is the best, although she often gets stuck for a word, and clucks her tongue until she can find other words to describe the one she's searching for. She uses her imagination when we have to make up situation dialogues, and makes me laugh.
Jason is from somewhere in the states, and seems to be a yoga-inspired kind of guy. Very tanned. Fit. Wears loose/flowy pants. I had no idea that Paris would be the kind to attract serious yoga practitioners for extended visits, but one never knows. I'd put him at mid-twenties. Aside from Diana, Jason is the most vocal, and although his pronunciation isn't as good at Amanda's, he does pretty well.
Veronica is another US expat. Don't know a lot about her, since she's been ill recently, and has missed a lot of classes.
After class, I stopped by the nearby H&M, ostensibly to get another shirt for dancing (who knew there would be so much of it?), and ended up getting a smart belted jacket as well. Of course, it would have been better to get a warmer one than the one I brought with me, but all the clothes in the stores are focused on resort-wear, despite the frigid temperatures. Also stopped by a large department store (CBH? everything from fashion to hardware) to get a folder and hole punch to organize my class handouts. We don't use a single text book, but zeroxed handouts that we're given daily. On the one hand, it's nice not to have to pay for a book, on the other hand, it would have been nice to have a reference book. I still say it's a shame that dad tossed out JLITH's beginning French textbook, especially since there are so many other things that I wish he would toss out instead.
I also stopped at a bakery to get a fresh baguette to eat with my cheese. Shall I jsut say that fresh bread deserves a moment of silence ...
Back at the apartment, I started a spreadsheet to track my expenses. Whew, the money goes fast, especially since the dollar is so down. All I can say is huzzah for no foreign transaction fees on my credit card, and all that overtime I did the last few months.
And also huzzah for free WiFi. Was able to chat wih Wry-an and Perky for a bit.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Paris Day 3, or Everybody dance now!
Through bleary eyes, I saw the alarm clock. 0900. Much too early. And yet my bosy wanted to get up! So I did. Breakfasted, and started laundry ... I glisten a bit too much when I dance, and running up and down metro stairs, and peeling off and on the layers to keep my body temperature at a reasonable level. And then I was ready for bed again.
Woke up again at noon. Email from Pas telling me where to meet to go to Versaille for the dance class that he and his partner Sandrine are teaching. Hurry to get ready. Get out to Gare St. Lazare, and can't figure out which train I'm supposed to take! I thought it was the RER, but none of those were goign to Versaille. Finally made it to the long distance train area, and then freak out because I have to buy a ticket. Look back in the corrider, and find an automated machine to buy ticket, which turns out to be the wrong one. In the end, it doesn't matter, because the train is just pulling away from the station as I'm rushing toward it! What could I do but laugh. Then go to the nearby Tabac and buy a phone card. And look for a pay phone and call Pas on his cell, on the train that just left. He laughs as well, and gives me directions from the train station to the studio. I get off the phone, and see the ticket machines that line the train gates! Buy the correct ticket, and board the net train to Versaille Rive Droit just 30 seconds before the train doors close.
The directions Pas gave me are good, although they didn't seem to make much sense on the phone. When I finally arrive at the address, I'm early at the meeting place. So, I had time to switch my shirt front side front (instead of front side back!). Alexandre comes to bring me, since Pas and Amandine have already started the lesson. It's a bit of a walk, and you guessed it, I start to glisten a bit.
Lesson is fun. Five girls and four guys, so Pas has to step in. It's good to be in the classes, eventhough I know a lot of what's being taught. It's good to get the basics, makes me feel like I'm finally getting the foundation that I've missed. After the class, Innis (sp?) gives me and Pas a ride back to Paris for some more early evening dancing.
The place is a small dance studio, and the feel is casual. There are a few children, lots of refreshments, and the dancing only goes until 2100. I sit out the first bit, watching some of the more accomplished dancers, wishing I had the courage or dance-ability to ask them, or get them to ask me. Few dances with Pas, but I don't want to hang on him too heavily. Then it starts shaping up. Tall grey-haired guy with the great smile that I've been admiring askes me to dance. Turns out that he's only been dancing for 5 months, but I'll bet that he's spent a few years doing salsa or tango, just by the way he holds his right hand on his abs. I just love it when someone I want to dance with just ups and asks me. It's like winning the lotto.
Many other dances. The two guys from the class dance with me a bit, but they sometimes have trouble following the beat. More dancing with SGLP, who is great at the blues stuff. Dance one with a guy that Leticia described as the biggest a--hole she knows ... he's not good enough to justify the attitude. And dance a bit with Laurent (at least I think that's his name ... I'm not good with names), who is a lindy/bal dancer who's been learning WCS for the past 6 months or so. Laurent is very good ... good connection and dances with the music and isn't a slave to patterns. We even try a little bal out by the food, but the song is way too fast. Much better to get back into WCS with lindy overtones. I watch an eccentric couple play around with lindy and Charleston, and they are quite good. I don't know what the other dancers make of them, but they were fun to watch.
Last song of the night was "Secret" by Maroon 5, which is one of my favorite songs to dance to, with SGLP. So good. Moving with the music, and incorporating the blues. Love it! Talking later with Pas, and turns out that he filmed and edited the youtube clip of J&T that I like so much. I've never posted the clip before, since J&T look so strung out, but the dancing is good.
Again, Pas found someone to give us rides (Pas doesn't drive). Celine, who is also in the car, asks if I'm going to the WCS event the next weekend. I tell her that I want to, but that I couldn't register on-line, and that Laurent was worried that the follow spaces were all full. And so, she makes a call, and arranges it for me! How kind. She also points to a little club down the street and tells me that she will be there on Thursday night for east-coast-swing-like dancing. I'm not that into ECS anymore, but it will be fun to check out, since I don't have any plans for Thurs, and it's so close. Back near my place, Pas suggests going to dinner, and we find a French restaurant (as opposed to the many ethnic restaurants in the 5eme arrondisment) that's nice and not too expensive, and just around the corner from my apartment. Chef's menu dinner for two for under 50 euro isn't too bad, and the food is pretty good. French onion soup, salmon with veggies, and creme brulee for me. It's raining pretty hard when we leave the restaurant, but Pas just sticks is cap on his head and enjoys it.
Get up to the apartment, and my legs are shot. Quick shower and in bed by 0015. Class in the morning!
Woke up again at noon. Email from Pas telling me where to meet to go to Versaille for the dance class that he and his partner Sandrine are teaching. Hurry to get ready. Get out to Gare St. Lazare, and can't figure out which train I'm supposed to take! I thought it was the RER, but none of those were goign to Versaille. Finally made it to the long distance train area, and then freak out because I have to buy a ticket. Look back in the corrider, and find an automated machine to buy ticket, which turns out to be the wrong one. In the end, it doesn't matter, because the train is just pulling away from the station as I'm rushing toward it! What could I do but laugh. Then go to the nearby Tabac and buy a phone card. And look for a pay phone and call Pas on his cell, on the train that just left. He laughs as well, and gives me directions from the train station to the studio. I get off the phone, and see the ticket machines that line the train gates! Buy the correct ticket, and board the net train to Versaille Rive Droit just 30 seconds before the train doors close.
The directions Pas gave me are good, although they didn't seem to make much sense on the phone. When I finally arrive at the address, I'm early at the meeting place. So, I had time to switch my shirt front side front (instead of front side back!). Alexandre comes to bring me, since Pas and Amandine have already started the lesson. It's a bit of a walk, and you guessed it, I start to glisten a bit.
Lesson is fun. Five girls and four guys, so Pas has to step in. It's good to be in the classes, eventhough I know a lot of what's being taught. It's good to get the basics, makes me feel like I'm finally getting the foundation that I've missed. After the class, Innis (sp?) gives me and Pas a ride back to Paris for some more early evening dancing.
The place is a small dance studio, and the feel is casual. There are a few children, lots of refreshments, and the dancing only goes until 2100. I sit out the first bit, watching some of the more accomplished dancers, wishing I had the courage or dance-ability to ask them, or get them to ask me. Few dances with Pas, but I don't want to hang on him too heavily. Then it starts shaping up. Tall grey-haired guy with the great smile that I've been admiring askes me to dance. Turns out that he's only been dancing for 5 months, but I'll bet that he's spent a few years doing salsa or tango, just by the way he holds his right hand on his abs. I just love it when someone I want to dance with just ups and asks me. It's like winning the lotto.
Many other dances. The two guys from the class dance with me a bit, but they sometimes have trouble following the beat. More dancing with SGLP, who is great at the blues stuff. Dance one with a guy that Leticia described as the biggest a--hole she knows ... he's not good enough to justify the attitude. And dance a bit with Laurent (at least I think that's his name ... I'm not good with names), who is a lindy/bal dancer who's been learning WCS for the past 6 months or so. Laurent is very good ... good connection and dances with the music and isn't a slave to patterns. We even try a little bal out by the food, but the song is way too fast. Much better to get back into WCS with lindy overtones. I watch an eccentric couple play around with lindy and Charleston, and they are quite good. I don't know what the other dancers make of them, but they were fun to watch.
Last song of the night was "Secret" by Maroon 5, which is one of my favorite songs to dance to, with SGLP. So good. Moving with the music, and incorporating the blues. Love it! Talking later with Pas, and turns out that he filmed and edited the youtube clip of J&T that I like so much. I've never posted the clip before, since J&T look so strung out, but the dancing is good.
Again, Pas found someone to give us rides (Pas doesn't drive). Celine, who is also in the car, asks if I'm going to the WCS event the next weekend. I tell her that I want to, but that I couldn't register on-line, and that Laurent was worried that the follow spaces were all full. And so, she makes a call, and arranges it for me! How kind. She also points to a little club down the street and tells me that she will be there on Thursday night for east-coast-swing-like dancing. I'm not that into ECS anymore, but it will be fun to check out, since I don't have any plans for Thurs, and it's so close. Back near my place, Pas suggests going to dinner, and we find a French restaurant (as opposed to the many ethnic restaurants in the 5eme arrondisment) that's nice and not too expensive, and just around the corner from my apartment. Chef's menu dinner for two for under 50 euro isn't too bad, and the food is pretty good. French onion soup, salmon with veggies, and creme brulee for me. It's raining pretty hard when we leave the restaurant, but Pas just sticks is cap on his head and enjoys it.
Get up to the apartment, and my legs are shot. Quick shower and in bed by 0015. Class in the morning!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Paris Day 2, or How I ended up at Buffalo Bill's
Woke up this morning hungry. Very hungry. But not hungry for food from the local supermarket. No, hungry for some good French open-air market food. So, I poured through my tour books, and found one open on Saturday in the 13eme arrondisment. Then studied how to best get there by Metro (I love the Parisian public transport!), and trooped out the door ... only to find that there was a little market right in Maubert square! Huzzah! Wandered around admiring the beautiful flowers, pungent cheeses, and proud grocers. Settled on two types of cheese, a large bag of spring greens, a handful of rosy cherry tomatoes, a bacony baguette, and an apple pastry. Brunch was wonderful.
Also found the supermarket on the next street over, where I stocked up on essentials. The toilet paper and laundry detergent were easy enough to identify, but I deliberated a long time over what was actually bath soap and lotion.
Took myself out to the Rodin park. Yes, I do want to visit the museum, but I figured that I'll see it with Mom and Aunt Yo, or even wih Ginger. So, I paid my one euro and entered into a wonderful space. Yes, you could hear the low hum of cars passing outside the garden gates, but only if you tuned out the chirping birds. The garden is very peaceful. The statuary outside is mostly bronze, although there was a large set of display cases with some of his marble-work in it. Whenever I see bronze statues, I always think of the painter in that book about the Passion Play (wish I could remember the title), who liked to paint people as if they were a bronze statue. It seems as if most of the European statues are of men, with some women about to accent larger tableux, whereas I remember more female statues from Roman times. Anyway, Rodin's work is so powerful. Very earthy. I can't wait to see more of the marble pieces when I come back.
Also to be on exhibit in a few days is the work of Camille Claudel. She and Rodin had an 8 year affair during which she was his model and worked on his sculptures.
From 1905, Claudel started having mental health issues. Depression, paranoia, secluded living, destroyed many of her art works. In 1913, shortly after the death of their father, her brother had her placed in a psychiatric institution, where she remained until her death 30 years later, despite physician recommendations that she be taken home again.
Through all this time, Rodin continued to live with his mistress Rose Beuret, who also modelled for him. He didn't seem to have a very high opinion of her. He married her in 1917, fifty three years into their relationship, and two weeks before her death, possibly to ensure care for their son, who was mentally disabled. Rodin died later that year. I wonder how Claudel and Beuret would describe him. Philanderer? Misogynist? I wonder what they would have to say about their own lives?
Back to the apartment for a much needed nap.
Got up later and got ready to leave for Le Moving, the dance club out in Thiais. The thing is, I could get out there by train, but since the Parisian trains stop running about 10pm, I would need a ride back into the city. Pas had said that he could arrange a ride for me, but I hadn't even met him yet, and so I was a little anxious. Not anxious enough to not go ... but enough so that I took enough money for cab fare back.
Got the the RER C line, and took it south. Choisy Le Roi is about the 5th stop, and so I was ready to count. It wasn't until the second stop that I began to be worried. The stops were so far apart. When I finally consulted the map, it turns out that the train ahd totally bypassed six stations! I got off, and was able to run around to the other side, catch the train back one stop to a larger station, where I was able to get on the train that stopped at Choisy. Yikes!
At the Choisy station, I found a map that indicated that the Bus 9 went to Belle Epine, where the club Le Moving was. So, I went in search of the bus stop. To no avail. Went one way, that didn't work. Checked back with the map at the station, and took a digital photo to help. Tried the other way, and that didn't work either. Then I asked a kindly faced ethnic woman on the street, in my broken French, and she directed me in very good English to the TGV, which went directly to Belle Epine.
Except that Le Moving is one stoop before BE! But I missed the stop, and had to go on to BE and backtrack. When I thankfully arrived at the gate, it was closed, with no signs as to when it would open. So it was that I went next door to Buffalo Bill's for some dinner and to keep warm. So kitschy. And yet it was pretty busy. I had the Pony Express meal, which I don't recommend, as it was the most complete cheap meal. Tucked the roles and cookie into my bag for later, and tried to enjoy the salad, fries and ground buffalo steak. The creme brulee mostly made up for the tourist food.
When I finally made my way back to Le Moving, it was getting crowded. There was a line down the stairs and out the door. Sadly, most of the people were there for the salsa dancing, but the WCS crowd was pretty good. The lessons were taught by Olivier and Amandine. And even though I had a hard time following them verbally, it was easy enough for me to pick up on the steps by watching and doing.
Pas didn't arrive until about 2230, but recognized me easily enough, and came and introduced himself. Luckily, his English is pretty good. And his dancing is wonderful. And he's tall enough to do all those underarm turns that I've been secretly envying the short girls for. And he introduced me to a lot of other leaders as well. By far, the best was Kofi, who I'd been admiring already, who just made all the steps seem so danceable and easy, and who danced in the music instead of shoving patterns on top of the music. I also really liked dancing with ShortGuyLongPonytail, whose name I couldn't catch. Pas also introduced me to Leticia, who's attended undergrad and graduate school in the states. Her English is very good, and if she hadn't told me, I would have thought (in the loud music of the club) that she was from the US.
We stayed until about 0300. That made for six hours of dancing. My legs were about ready to fall off, and I felt extremely sad for the guys who dancing with me toward the end of the night, since my shirt was rather moist. However, since there were those who kept asking, so who was I to deny them ... or me? Really, it was more than I've danced ever in one single night.
Leticia gave us a ride back to Paris. So nice of her! And I arranged to meet Pas for a group lesson, and some early evening dancing.
Got into the apartment. Quickly showered, and collapsed into bed. It was 0415.
Also found the supermarket on the next street over, where I stocked up on essentials. The toilet paper and laundry detergent were easy enough to identify, but I deliberated a long time over what was actually bath soap and lotion.
Took myself out to the Rodin park. Yes, I do want to visit the museum, but I figured that I'll see it with Mom and Aunt Yo, or even wih Ginger. So, I paid my one euro and entered into a wonderful space. Yes, you could hear the low hum of cars passing outside the garden gates, but only if you tuned out the chirping birds. The garden is very peaceful. The statuary outside is mostly bronze, although there was a large set of display cases with some of his marble-work in it. Whenever I see bronze statues, I always think of the painter in that book about the Passion Play (wish I could remember the title), who liked to paint people as if they were a bronze statue. It seems as if most of the European statues are of men, with some women about to accent larger tableux, whereas I remember more female statues from Roman times. Anyway, Rodin's work is so powerful. Very earthy. I can't wait to see more of the marble pieces when I come back.
Also to be on exhibit in a few days is the work of Camille Claudel. She and Rodin had an 8 year affair during which she was his model and worked on his sculptures.
From 1905, Claudel started having mental health issues. Depression, paranoia, secluded living, destroyed many of her art works. In 1913, shortly after the death of their father, her brother had her placed in a psychiatric institution, where she remained until her death 30 years later, despite physician recommendations that she be taken home again.
Through all this time, Rodin continued to live with his mistress Rose Beuret, who also modelled for him. He didn't seem to have a very high opinion of her. He married her in 1917, fifty three years into their relationship, and two weeks before her death, possibly to ensure care for their son, who was mentally disabled. Rodin died later that year. I wonder how Claudel and Beuret would describe him. Philanderer? Misogynist? I wonder what they would have to say about their own lives?
Back to the apartment for a much needed nap.
Got up later and got ready to leave for Le Moving, the dance club out in Thiais. The thing is, I could get out there by train, but since the Parisian trains stop running about 10pm, I would need a ride back into the city. Pas had said that he could arrange a ride for me, but I hadn't even met him yet, and so I was a little anxious. Not anxious enough to not go ... but enough so that I took enough money for cab fare back.
Got the the RER C line, and took it south. Choisy Le Roi is about the 5th stop, and so I was ready to count. It wasn't until the second stop that I began to be worried. The stops were so far apart. When I finally consulted the map, it turns out that the train ahd totally bypassed six stations! I got off, and was able to run around to the other side, catch the train back one stop to a larger station, where I was able to get on the train that stopped at Choisy. Yikes!
At the Choisy station, I found a map that indicated that the Bus 9 went to Belle Epine, where the club Le Moving was. So, I went in search of the bus stop. To no avail. Went one way, that didn't work. Checked back with the map at the station, and took a digital photo to help. Tried the other way, and that didn't work either. Then I asked a kindly faced ethnic woman on the street, in my broken French, and she directed me in very good English to the TGV, which went directly to Belle Epine.
Except that Le Moving is one stoop before BE! But I missed the stop, and had to go on to BE and backtrack. When I thankfully arrived at the gate, it was closed, with no signs as to when it would open. So it was that I went next door to Buffalo Bill's for some dinner and to keep warm. So kitschy. And yet it was pretty busy. I had the Pony Express meal, which I don't recommend, as it was the most complete cheap meal. Tucked the roles and cookie into my bag for later, and tried to enjoy the salad, fries and ground buffalo steak. The creme brulee mostly made up for the tourist food.
When I finally made my way back to Le Moving, it was getting crowded. There was a line down the stairs and out the door. Sadly, most of the people were there for the salsa dancing, but the WCS crowd was pretty good. The lessons were taught by Olivier and Amandine. And even though I had a hard time following them verbally, it was easy enough for me to pick up on the steps by watching and doing.
Pas didn't arrive until about 2230, but recognized me easily enough, and came and introduced himself. Luckily, his English is pretty good. And his dancing is wonderful. And he's tall enough to do all those underarm turns that I've been secretly envying the short girls for. And he introduced me to a lot of other leaders as well. By far, the best was Kofi, who I'd been admiring already, who just made all the steps seem so danceable and easy, and who danced in the music instead of shoving patterns on top of the music. I also really liked dancing with ShortGuyLongPonytail, whose name I couldn't catch. Pas also introduced me to Leticia, who's attended undergrad and graduate school in the states. Her English is very good, and if she hadn't told me, I would have thought (in the loud music of the club) that she was from the US.
We stayed until about 0300. That made for six hours of dancing. My legs were about ready to fall off, and I felt extremely sad for the guys who dancing with me toward the end of the night, since my shirt was rather moist. However, since there were those who kept asking, so who was I to deny them ... or me? Really, it was more than I've danced ever in one single night.
Leticia gave us a ride back to Paris. So nice of her! And I arranged to meet Pas for a group lesson, and some early evening dancing.
Got into the apartment. Quickly showered, and collapsed into bed. It was 0415.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Day 1
Well, it's been a challenging day. The kind that might prompt me to ask, "What else could go wrong?" except that I'm afraid to hear the answer ...
White Boy came and picked me up in the wee hours of the morning to take me to the airport. On a whim, he decided to park and walk me in. I was amused, then incrdibly grateful. At ticket counter, I wasn't able to check in on the do-it-yourselfer machine. After a kindly (but rather stressed out lady) started helping me, we found out that a paper ticket had been issued to JLITH. And apparently she had tried to send it to me, but I'd never received it. It took some 'splaining (it was a gift, JLITH isn't even flying, she's in SLC, she's already started at work and may be unreachable in the OR, etc) but luckily they took my word that I lived on M street, and they put me through. White Boy got seom hackles up, which spared me having to ruffle my own in public, and let me use his handy-dandy cell phone (mine was neither handy, since I'd left it at home; nor dandy in the least bit since it's the pure basic kind without even a camera since I hate talking on it so much) to call and agitate all of my relatives on how to get a hold of JLITH before my plane took off without me. And actually, we didn't really need to talk to her in the end, although I'll bet Ms. Kind-and-even-more-stressed-out would have liked to just to get the final okay. Somehow along the way the story ended up that I was in the hospital, but that just shows that you shouldn't believe everything that you hear. Ms. KAEMSO trotted me to the front of the security line, with White Boy graciously toting my heavy bag, and saw me through.
When I boarded the plane, I happened to glance at my pass, and was a little concerned that it only went as far as New York. But I was so grateful to have gotten this far that I decided not to worry about it just then.
So it was that I got onto the first plane.
We arrived in New York without further incident. Until I started to look around for my boarding pass. Uh oh. Looked again. And again. Couldn't find it. Oh no.
Got off the plane and got in line at the counter to ask about what I should do. Then I started to panic. What if the had only sent my one checked bag to New York instead of all the way to Paris? I panicked, and hurried over to the baggage claim area. And searched and searched, but to no avail. I started feeling that I had been a flibbity-gibbet and that I should have stayed back where I'd deplaned, but it was too late to go back. When it became apparent that my bag was not going to come rushing down the chute and into my arms, I consulted the calming lost baggage guy. Huzzah! Baggage HAD been checked all the way to Paris. Now I just had to get on the plane!
Got myself up to the ticketing area. Oops, it was supposed to be for First class. However, the guy must have sensed my desperation, because he listened to my story, made a few calls, and was able to reprint my boarding pass. He told me to hurry and scoot, since the gate was a long, a very long walk. I gave him my heartfelt thanks, and started to scoot.
And scoot. And scoot. And even scoot some more. Turns out that Gate 8 is THE FARTHEST GATE from the Delta counter. And as my body started to protest from the weight of my carry-on, I started to glisten. A lot. So much so that when I saw the sign for Gate 8, I celebrated by going into the nearest bathroom, and wiping myself down and changing my tops. Which I should have done after the plane took off, since the PA sounded with the last call for my flight. This time I told my protesting body to shut it while I went into hyper-mode and made it onto the plane.
On the plane, I met Antrim (like tantrum without the T), my seat mate. In the eventt of an accident, we were to help people out of the emergency exit. What it really meant is that we got double the leg room! Antrim is a photojournalist who has been working on covering the destruction of the Appalacian Mountains by a form of mining known as mountain top removal. Yes, that's right ... they just cut off the tops of mountains. We talked about a lot of things. Well, mostly I listened, but it was fascinating to hear her discourse on land and culture destruction, depopulation of the Appalacians, pollution, renewable energy, etc. And then we crashed out and slept.
When we arrived in Paris, I offered her a ride into the city. And why not? It seemed like the BackrubS thing to do, and I want to be the kind of person who makes travel buddies as easily as he does. Our driver was very handsome, and the talk into town was congenial. Turns out that the driver had not received the keys from the rental agency, so we were going to swing by the office to retrieve them, then he would successivly drop off me and Antrim at our respective locations, for no extra charge. How charming.
Except, he was gone a lot longer than the three minutes it should have taken to retrieve the keys. Sure enough, he came back and told us that the keys were not there. He could still take Antrim to make her appointment, but that I might want to have a drink at a nearby cafe until the rental agency opened. Good grief! Well, what could I do? He settled me into a cozy cafe (inside, since it was still pretty chilly outside), and I waited. Fortunately, there was free WiFi, and I was able to check my email, reassure my JLITH that I was corporeally just fine, and draft up some of the post before the office opened.
So, after about 40 minutes, I meandered ... wait, that's not the right word. You can't meander down a road when you're pulling an extremely heavy, wheeled, slightly unstable duffle bag (I left the good one at home because it was just a little too small), with an extremely heavy carry-on, while slightly sleep deprived. That goes against the very grain of "meandering." So ... I lugged my self and stuff down a chic sideroad in the 1st arrondisement to the rrental agency. And was met with confusion. V, who had helped me through the rental process thus far, was not in the office. And for some uncommunicated reason, I was not going to be able to use the apartment I had agreed to rent. They offered an upgrade, which made me happy, but also screwed up my plans, which didn't involved lugging my things another two blocks to a cab-able area, only to cross and re-cross a street so that I could get cash from an ATM to pay the cabbie (I'd given my fiver to the handsome driver to thank him for his extra trouble for me and Antrim), find a small store to buy something very small so that I would have change for the ccab, and having to mentally rearrange my idea of where I would be able to use the metro. And really, I don't mind crossing streets, there was just the painful reality of the lugging.
After I'd finally positioned myself in a prime cab-able location, it seemed that every cab was already taken. As I was hailing my fourth cab that turned out to be occupied (hey, the sun was in my eyes ... Hurray for sun on my first day in Paris), the older cabbie turned and motioned me toward the cabbie on the opposite side of the road, who was pulling over to stop. Again with the lugging across the road! But I was happy to me automatively mobile again. 8.5 euros later (which the rental agency is supposed to reimburse), I was at my new digs. Yay!
Made it through the front gate, and made my way to the second set of stairs. Went up to the second floor as instructed. ANd put my key into the door on the left. Or at least, I tried to put the key in. But it wouldn't go. Neither of the keys fit either of the holes. Moley! And I thought I heard voices on the other side of the door. So, I tried the other two doors to the right. Hey, the lady at the rental agency had told me that the ATM would be on the left side, but it was actually on the right side of the road. But to no avail. The keys I had fit none of the doors on the second floor.
Then, I had a flash of intuition. I left all my baggage on the second floor and went up one more level. And tried a key in the door on the left. Success. Must remember that first US floors are seroeth floors to the French. Just then, a guy came out of the door on the right. Overcome with embarrassment, I hurried to the first (!) floor to collect my things, since they were blocking the entire stairwell (it's a small stairwell). When he saw my predicament, he offered to help me carry up my bags. It could have been the start of a lovely friendship, but I was so weary and awkward that I didn't even ask his name, jsut thanked him profusely.
And so I put my keys into the lock and pushed. Then pulled. Then turned some more. I waited until my neighbor was beyong hearing before I started lecturing the door. It took a good twenty minutes, but it finally listened and opened. I'll just say that there had been lots and lots of glistening over the course of the day, and this last bit was no exception.
The apartment is cute. Very small studio (just a tad bit smaller than my entire bedroom, not counting the closet), but there are two twin beds pushed together, a mini washer/dryer, a little kitchenette, a phone and tv, a two-seater table, a closet toilet, and a tiny shower. And it will do just fine.
But the adventure doesn't stop there. Oh no.
I unpacked, and made my was to school. Bought my Carte Orange metro pass, and didn't annoy too many people learning which part to put through the machine. And made it to the Alliance Francaise campus. Waited in the wrong line until I was directed to the right one. Where they gave me a test and told me to go up to the testing room. When I got there, I had to be redirected to the quiet area, then I eyed the exam. And almost laughed out loud in said quiet area. Maybe they just didn't understand that I was a complete beginner. Yes, I had learned some phrasing and pronunciation, but I hadn't the slightest idea how the words looked, or how to conjugate verbs in the slightest. I made a show of taking the test, then sheepishly waited for someone to grade it and acknowledge that I needed the beginning class. Which they did in short order. The problem? All three beginner classes were full. And there were no plans to open another. Talk about a stinging disappointment! The website had said that all that was needed was to come in before the first day of class to arrange for placement, and so I'd scheduled the entire trip around taking this course. Yes, there were others, but I'd chosen this one ... mostly for the housing connection, which I didn't end up using ... and it was a blow. I made my way back to the apartment to reassess my options. Luckily I still had the spreadsheet with the schools I'd researched, and there was one other school that had a Monday start date.
So I was off like a shot. Meaning, that I left my good map on the computer, and made my way without. Lutece Langue was a little difficult to locate. It's just north of Notre Dame, but it's a suite in a much larger building. The outfit looks much smaller and informal when compared to AF, but the class size is also about six, compared to eighteen. Anyway, the staff seems intimate, friendly, and very invested in helping their students, so I'm excited about the whole thing.
Left LL and made my way back to my apartment. Passed a quaint church that had fliers for some evening classical concerts, and took some dates down.
And then, I got lost. Wandering hungrily, since I was looking for a particular restaurant with my less than stellar map. I finally gave in and got a pizza-looking thing at a charcuterie. And wanderred some more because I realy just wanted to take a nap at my apartment. It took about twenty more minutes, and then I was in heaven.
Woke up an hour later, feeling refreshed and ready for something to go right. Made my way down to the church I'd seen earlier to buy a concert ticket for some Chopin. Found it exactly on the first try. It's just down a couple blocks, next to the Shakespearre book store that Pilgrimsteps told me about. Bought a cheap ticket, and got the second best seat.
Ronald Boyer was the pianist. His deft and numble fingers were perfect. And while I had no thrills during the performance, I was pleased, and there was much to admire. Confess that I always wonder about Chopin. His music is so whimsical and yet so complexly layered. Chopin has bursts of passion, but the whimsy is never far off. I wonder about his life, especially the time that he was with Georges Sand, who I also wonder about. She wrote, "There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved." She was a writer, a feminist, a Baroness, and flouted many conventions of her day. What would she say about the status of women today? She goes on my list of strong women to find good biographies about.
And now I've come back to my Parisian home. And unloaded everything. Bravo/a to you if you're still reading. I probably won't be as detailed in the future, but hopefully there will be more to tell, and I'll be busy doing it.
White Boy came and picked me up in the wee hours of the morning to take me to the airport. On a whim, he decided to park and walk me in. I was amused, then incrdibly grateful. At ticket counter, I wasn't able to check in on the do-it-yourselfer machine. After a kindly (but rather stressed out lady) started helping me, we found out that a paper ticket had been issued to JLITH. And apparently she had tried to send it to me, but I'd never received it. It took some 'splaining (it was a gift, JLITH isn't even flying, she's in SLC, she's already started at work and may be unreachable in the OR, etc) but luckily they took my word that I lived on M street, and they put me through. White Boy got seom hackles up, which spared me having to ruffle my own in public, and let me use his handy-dandy cell phone (mine was neither handy, since I'd left it at home; nor dandy in the least bit since it's the pure basic kind without even a camera since I hate talking on it so much) to call and agitate all of my relatives on how to get a hold of JLITH before my plane took off without me. And actually, we didn't really need to talk to her in the end, although I'll bet Ms. Kind-and-even-more-stressed-out would have liked to just to get the final okay. Somehow along the way the story ended up that I was in the hospital, but that just shows that you shouldn't believe everything that you hear. Ms. KAEMSO trotted me to the front of the security line, with White Boy graciously toting my heavy bag, and saw me through.
When I boarded the plane, I happened to glance at my pass, and was a little concerned that it only went as far as New York. But I was so grateful to have gotten this far that I decided not to worry about it just then.
So it was that I got onto the first plane.
We arrived in New York without further incident. Until I started to look around for my boarding pass. Uh oh. Looked again. And again. Couldn't find it. Oh no.
Got off the plane and got in line at the counter to ask about what I should do. Then I started to panic. What if the had only sent my one checked bag to New York instead of all the way to Paris? I panicked, and hurried over to the baggage claim area. And searched and searched, but to no avail. I started feeling that I had been a flibbity-gibbet and that I should have stayed back where I'd deplaned, but it was too late to go back. When it became apparent that my bag was not going to come rushing down the chute and into my arms, I consulted the calming lost baggage guy. Huzzah! Baggage HAD been checked all the way to Paris. Now I just had to get on the plane!
Got myself up to the ticketing area. Oops, it was supposed to be for First class. However, the guy must have sensed my desperation, because he listened to my story, made a few calls, and was able to reprint my boarding pass. He told me to hurry and scoot, since the gate was a long, a very long walk. I gave him my heartfelt thanks, and started to scoot.
And scoot. And scoot. And even scoot some more. Turns out that Gate 8 is THE FARTHEST GATE from the Delta counter. And as my body started to protest from the weight of my carry-on, I started to glisten. A lot. So much so that when I saw the sign for Gate 8, I celebrated by going into the nearest bathroom, and wiping myself down and changing my tops. Which I should have done after the plane took off, since the PA sounded with the last call for my flight. This time I told my protesting body to shut it while I went into hyper-mode and made it onto the plane.
On the plane, I met Antrim (like tantrum without the T), my seat mate. In the eventt of an accident, we were to help people out of the emergency exit. What it really meant is that we got double the leg room! Antrim is a photojournalist who has been working on covering the destruction of the Appalacian Mountains by a form of mining known as mountain top removal. Yes, that's right ... they just cut off the tops of mountains. We talked about a lot of things. Well, mostly I listened, but it was fascinating to hear her discourse on land and culture destruction, depopulation of the Appalacians, pollution, renewable energy, etc. And then we crashed out and slept.
When we arrived in Paris, I offered her a ride into the city. And why not? It seemed like the BackrubS thing to do, and I want to be the kind of person who makes travel buddies as easily as he does. Our driver was very handsome, and the talk into town was congenial. Turns out that the driver had not received the keys from the rental agency, so we were going to swing by the office to retrieve them, then he would successivly drop off me and Antrim at our respective locations, for no extra charge. How charming.
Except, he was gone a lot longer than the three minutes it should have taken to retrieve the keys. Sure enough, he came back and told us that the keys were not there. He could still take Antrim to make her appointment, but that I might want to have a drink at a nearby cafe until the rental agency opened. Good grief! Well, what could I do? He settled me into a cozy cafe (inside, since it was still pretty chilly outside), and I waited. Fortunately, there was free WiFi, and I was able to check my email, reassure my JLITH that I was corporeally just fine, and draft up some of the post before the office opened.
So, after about 40 minutes, I meandered ... wait, that's not the right word. You can't meander down a road when you're pulling an extremely heavy, wheeled, slightly unstable duffle bag (I left the good one at home because it was just a little too small), with an extremely heavy carry-on, while slightly sleep deprived. That goes against the very grain of "meandering." So ... I lugged my self and stuff down a chic sideroad in the 1st arrondisement to the rrental agency. And was met with confusion. V, who had helped me through the rental process thus far, was not in the office. And for some uncommunicated reason, I was not going to be able to use the apartment I had agreed to rent. They offered an upgrade, which made me happy, but also screwed up my plans, which didn't involved lugging my things another two blocks to a cab-able area, only to cross and re-cross a street so that I could get cash from an ATM to pay the cabbie (I'd given my fiver to the handsome driver to thank him for his extra trouble for me and Antrim), find a small store to buy something very small so that I would have change for the ccab, and having to mentally rearrange my idea of where I would be able to use the metro. And really, I don't mind crossing streets, there was just the painful reality of the lugging.
After I'd finally positioned myself in a prime cab-able location, it seemed that every cab was already taken. As I was hailing my fourth cab that turned out to be occupied (hey, the sun was in my eyes ... Hurray for sun on my first day in Paris), the older cabbie turned and motioned me toward the cabbie on the opposite side of the road, who was pulling over to stop. Again with the lugging across the road! But I was happy to me automatively mobile again. 8.5 euros later (which the rental agency is supposed to reimburse), I was at my new digs. Yay!
Made it through the front gate, and made my way to the second set of stairs. Went up to the second floor as instructed. ANd put my key into the door on the left. Or at least, I tried to put the key in. But it wouldn't go. Neither of the keys fit either of the holes. Moley! And I thought I heard voices on the other side of the door. So, I tried the other two doors to the right. Hey, the lady at the rental agency had told me that the ATM would be on the left side, but it was actually on the right side of the road. But to no avail. The keys I had fit none of the doors on the second floor.
Then, I had a flash of intuition. I left all my baggage on the second floor and went up one more level. And tried a key in the door on the left. Success. Must remember that first US floors are seroeth floors to the French. Just then, a guy came out of the door on the right. Overcome with embarrassment, I hurried to the first (!) floor to collect my things, since they were blocking the entire stairwell (it's a small stairwell). When he saw my predicament, he offered to help me carry up my bags. It could have been the start of a lovely friendship, but I was so weary and awkward that I didn't even ask his name, jsut thanked him profusely.
And so I put my keys into the lock and pushed. Then pulled. Then turned some more. I waited until my neighbor was beyong hearing before I started lecturing the door. It took a good twenty minutes, but it finally listened and opened. I'll just say that there had been lots and lots of glistening over the course of the day, and this last bit was no exception.
The apartment is cute. Very small studio (just a tad bit smaller than my entire bedroom, not counting the closet), but there are two twin beds pushed together, a mini washer/dryer, a little kitchenette, a phone and tv, a two-seater table, a closet toilet, and a tiny shower. And it will do just fine.
But the adventure doesn't stop there. Oh no.
I unpacked, and made my was to school. Bought my Carte Orange metro pass, and didn't annoy too many people learning which part to put through the machine. And made it to the Alliance Francaise campus. Waited in the wrong line until I was directed to the right one. Where they gave me a test and told me to go up to the testing room. When I got there, I had to be redirected to the quiet area, then I eyed the exam. And almost laughed out loud in said quiet area. Maybe they just didn't understand that I was a complete beginner. Yes, I had learned some phrasing and pronunciation, but I hadn't the slightest idea how the words looked, or how to conjugate verbs in the slightest. I made a show of taking the test, then sheepishly waited for someone to grade it and acknowledge that I needed the beginning class. Which they did in short order. The problem? All three beginner classes were full. And there were no plans to open another. Talk about a stinging disappointment! The website had said that all that was needed was to come in before the first day of class to arrange for placement, and so I'd scheduled the entire trip around taking this course. Yes, there were others, but I'd chosen this one ... mostly for the housing connection, which I didn't end up using ... and it was a blow. I made my way back to the apartment to reassess my options. Luckily I still had the spreadsheet with the schools I'd researched, and there was one other school that had a Monday start date.
So I was off like a shot. Meaning, that I left my good map on the computer, and made my way without. Lutece Langue was a little difficult to locate. It's just north of Notre Dame, but it's a suite in a much larger building. The outfit looks much smaller and informal when compared to AF, but the class size is also about six, compared to eighteen. Anyway, the staff seems intimate, friendly, and very invested in helping their students, so I'm excited about the whole thing.
Left LL and made my way back to my apartment. Passed a quaint church that had fliers for some evening classical concerts, and took some dates down.
And then, I got lost. Wandering hungrily, since I was looking for a particular restaurant with my less than stellar map. I finally gave in and got a pizza-looking thing at a charcuterie. And wanderred some more because I realy just wanted to take a nap at my apartment. It took about twenty more minutes, and then I was in heaven.
Woke up an hour later, feeling refreshed and ready for something to go right. Made my way down to the church I'd seen earlier to buy a concert ticket for some Chopin. Found it exactly on the first try. It's just down a couple blocks, next to the Shakespearre book store that Pilgrimsteps told me about. Bought a cheap ticket, and got the second best seat.
Ronald Boyer was the pianist. His deft and numble fingers were perfect. And while I had no thrills during the performance, I was pleased, and there was much to admire. Confess that I always wonder about Chopin. His music is so whimsical and yet so complexly layered. Chopin has bursts of passion, but the whimsy is never far off. I wonder about his life, especially the time that he was with Georges Sand, who I also wonder about. She wrote, "There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved." She was a writer, a feminist, a Baroness, and flouted many conventions of her day. What would she say about the status of women today? She goes on my list of strong women to find good biographies about.
And now I've come back to my Parisian home. And unloaded everything. Bravo/a to you if you're still reading. I probably won't be as detailed in the future, but hopefully there will be more to tell, and I'll be busy doing it.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Au revoir!
And now I'm off for Paris!
Sure, not for a couple more hours, but I'm too excited to sleep anymore.
I'll be in Paris for about a month taking French lessons and just exploring the city. Mother, Aunt Yo and Ginger will be visiting to help pass the time. Then I'm off to London for a couple of days to visit Ginger and maybe meet up with Cogie-Bears.
Hoping to be a more frequent blogger. Here, and at the new Exponent II blog site (which looks just fantastic due to an immense amount of work from Pilgrimsteps).
More later ...
Sure, not for a couple more hours, but I'm too excited to sleep anymore.
I'll be in Paris for about a month taking French lessons and just exploring the city. Mother, Aunt Yo and Ginger will be visiting to help pass the time. Then I'm off to London for a couple of days to visit Ginger and maybe meet up with Cogie-Bears.
Hoping to be a more frequent blogger. Here, and at the new Exponent II blog site (which looks just fantastic due to an immense amount of work from Pilgrimsteps).
More later ...
Thursday, March 27, 2008
For Wry-an: Cliff Notes on my life in '08
No, Wry-an, I haven't quite abandoned this blog. True, it's been a long time between posting, and will likely be a couple more weeks, until I am ensconced in my Paris apartment, and am feeling so lonely because of the mess that is my ability to speak French. Until then, here are the intervening highlights ...
3 days over New Year's Eve dancing my little west-coast-swing heart out.
4.5 week pediatric respiratory ECMO run at work. Lots and lots of overtime.
1 week cousins reunion in Kauai. Haven't seen some of the Japanese relatives in 10 years. Kayaked, snorkled, catamarranned, ATV'd, cooked, ate, and biplaned while conversing in a bewildering mishmash of Japanese and English.
Lots more working. Got trained as a mentor at work. Long, boring meeting made me really miss you and Perky. Where are my social worker buds now?
Some fun dinners out on the town.
Shed some tears (and eww, a little clear nose drainage!) while singing the church Easter program.
Extra-curricular church stuff: Miller-Eccles with the Bushmans, "Nobody Knows: The Untold Story of Black Mormons" documentary and discussion with Darius Gray, getting back into Exponent blogging.
Weekly dancing out my little-bit-bigger west-coast-swing-heart out.
Prepping for my trip to Paris and London.
And, that's really all that's been going on with me.
3 days over New Year's Eve dancing my little west-coast-swing heart out.
4.5 week pediatric respiratory ECMO run at work. Lots and lots of overtime.
1 week cousins reunion in Kauai. Haven't seen some of the Japanese relatives in 10 years. Kayaked, snorkled, catamarranned, ATV'd, cooked, ate, and biplaned while conversing in a bewildering mishmash of Japanese and English.
Lots more working. Got trained as a mentor at work. Long, boring meeting made me really miss you and Perky. Where are my social worker buds now?
Some fun dinners out on the town.
Shed some tears (and eww, a little clear nose drainage!) while singing the church Easter program.
Extra-curricular church stuff: Miller-Eccles with the Bushmans, "Nobody Knows: The Untold Story of Black Mormons" documentary and discussion with Darius Gray, getting back into Exponent blogging.
Weekly dancing out my little-bit-bigger west-coast-swing-heart out.
Prepping for my trip to Paris and London.
And, that's really all that's been going on with me.
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