I had a lovely little week in Paris for my first week of vacation in February. Louis was a very generous host and helpful translator again. He helped me with my French and writing postcards, giving me metro advice and cheese lessons, on how to order at the cute street marche from the healthy and strong cheese ladies. Louis adviced me to follow the old ladies, because they knew which cheese stand was the best and I should buy from the same. This proved very helpful. I bought some Cantal, St. Nectaire, une petite Chevre and some carrots at another stand. I walked up and down the market and at all four cheese places there was only customers at the one with the line of older ladies waiting. I believe the prices were the best too, from what I had seen.
I saw the perfume museum, the Fragonard Parfumerie, and did a lot of walking and window-shopping my first day. Louis had to do some studying but was very helpful with instructions and telling me where to go and how to go, etc.
I enjoyed some delicious cheeses and quiches and Louis’ excellent glublieglooba. I am writing that phonetically because I am not sure how it is spelled.
It was a little refreshing to be in Paris with so many things to see and do and French words to learn. I did buy a French dictionary and have gotten good use out of it already. It is crazy how many people live in certain spaces. There were also a lot of homeless and kooky people, although I saw a group of homeless people in Éibar too when I arrived after being in Paris.
In Paris, Louis took me to the Musee d’ Orsay and we saw some Monet, Van Gogh, and other noteworthy artists. Monet’s four paintings of the cathedral in Rouen was one of my favorite walls in the museum.
I also saw Christian Boltanski’s current work in the Grand Palais, which made me feel consumptive and materialistic. I don’t know if that was his intention, but I believe if I understood the artist’s statement correctly that he wanted to create a space that people would feel relieved to leave. I did read this in English, not in French, as in French I would definitely not have understood the meaning. He had piles of clothes laid out on the floor and a mountain of clothing articles in one nook. Heartbeats with white noise boomed over the PA system. The Grand Palais was a beautiful building and I didn’t find the artwork unsettling just felt quite reflective.
Louis and I saw the Maison Europeenne de La Photographie, Ville de Paris, or European House of Photography, with an exhibition on Africa and a few weird contemporary art photo works, but a great collection of Elliott Erwitt’s "Peronsal Best". Look him up. He has some great pieces from the US and all over the world, some funny historical, social or cultural comments.
I also went to the Musee de Carnavalet, Galerie des Gobelins, La Collection des Tapisseries de Louis XIV (large tapestries from Louis XIV-incredible), Montemarte (where Emilie was filmed), Les Halles, and walked around the Louvre, Notre Dame, Theatre Rond du Pont, Elyse Des Champs… I am sure I have left out some details, but a week in Paris, or a second one, is to be experienced first hand.
For an expedia.com traveler ratings, on the hotel:
*Excellent atmosphere with a fabulous music collection
*Good thought-provoking conversation
*Wonderful entertainment, French aid/tutoring, and tourist help.
*Well-planned and diverse excursions with great flexibility on schedule.
*Excellent chef with a wonderful tea selection and delicious baguette choices!
C’est tres bon, Louis.
I think that is five stars Louis.
Also, of my delicious cheeses, I brought back some Camembert, a funny sort of souvenir, but it stank on the train. It stank through the two paper bags I had placed it in and through my duffle bag. It stank onto my sleeping bag, which is airing out in the hall and served as a demented air freshener on the metro/train ride home. When I got off the train at the Spanish/French border, I thought the woman in front of me smelled really weird, well it proved just to be the front end of my bag, leaking a warm cheese smell. People would get onto the car that I was on, sniff, look in my direction and head towards the other side of the car. The only man who sat near me looked to be homeless and I could smell him over the cheese. I was somewhat thankful for the one stopover that he was on the train though. I think at least two people got up and moved seats to another car of the train while I was on. I almost started laughing because it was so awkward, but nearly two hours of people getting on, sniffing, and avoiding my corner left me feeling a little sheepish. Finally in the last twenty minutes, some boys sat across the aisle from me. I could mostly understand their hushed conversation, maybe they weren’t sure if I was a foreigner, but almost at the end of my ride, one of them tried to open the window and said to the other, “If you really want to move, we can.” So I said, in Spanish, “The smell is a cheese. It is in my bag. I brought it as a souvenir. Sorry it stinks, but I am getting off on the next stop, so it will end soon.” To which, the one asked the other, “Where is it from?” and I said, “It is a cheese, a French cheese. I brought it as a souvenir, but I am getting off on the next stop. So sorry about the smell. Sorry” and just sort of shrugged, but had a hard time not laughing…
No comments:
Post a Comment