Why? Why didn't I package up all the stuff I bought in Paris and send it to myself instead of stuffing it in my backpack and carrying it to the airport? I didn't do it because I have this thing about instant gratification. If I want it I want it now and I will make it happen now or as soon as possible. I knew I would absolutely go bonkers waiting for that package to reach my post office box and I would have had a disappointment on a daily basis until it got here.
I dragged the pack to the elevator and convinced myself that it would be ok to be lazy and give in to getting a cab to the airport even though the cost for the cab would have been almost as much as the metro ticket I had purchased for a 5 day use which included use to the zone the airport is in. I was going to waste that metro ticket all because I decided not to take time to go to the post office.
The thing is, it was 6 o'clock in the morning. Breakfast isn't served until 7am at the hotel and no one was around that early. I couldn't bring myself to call for a cab because the language barrier is bad enough in person. I didn't want to call and have the person on the other end not get to me in time. So, after making as much noise as I possibly could to try and get someone to come to the office I draped my carry on across the front of me then heaved the pack onto my back and walked down to the metro. Instead of going to metro Abbesses which is slightly uphill from the hotel I went to metro Blanche and had a really nice walk downhill. Hmm, I started thinking it wasn't going to be too bad.
At the metro, again, there was no one around, and I easily fit through the turnstile and found my way to the first train. That early in the morning I found I could have two seats to myself - one for my butt and another for leaning back with the pack still on. Two transfers later I was at the airport and feeling very glad I'd not taken a cab.
Knowing I'd never be able to lift the backpack into an overhead bin and about to have a broken back by the time I reached the ticket counter I checked the backpack and crossed fingers none of my newly acquired guidebooks would come up missing. Thankfully all the happened was that when Customs had rifled through the bags they weren't kind about making sure the books fit back in the bag and the zipper split open. Luckily I was able to fix it and as long as I don't over stuff I can continue to use that bag.
At security I buzzed going through the scanner. No one was taking their shoes off so I hadn't taken mine off and they have some metal on them. Instead of letting me take them off and go back through I got to get felt up...by a girl - no fun! It wasn't too bad, it didn't feel invasive at all, just annoying - especially when she cupped my boobs and lifted....yeah, yeah, I'm a saggy old woman, I get it.
At Newark I had to claim my backpack then bring it back to be checked for the connecting flight. I guess that helps keep things from getting lost but that also meant I had to carry the darn thing a couple of miles. I have this thing where my face gets really red when I have any kind of exertion. If you don't know me you might think that I'm about to fall over dead with a heart attack or something when I look like that. I always feel fine and not nearly as ready for death as I might look but it puts everyone around me on alert to catch me if I fall and to be ready for CPR. I finally got to the baggage area and the guy was really sweet in taking the bag and not making me carry it from the entry to the conveyor belt. As I'd been walking up to that part I'd observed him being a major dick to other people and making them go the extra forty feet or so. I really must have been beet red for him to have stepped up to help.
At Customs when asked what I was doing in France, am I terrorist, etc., I got into a bit of a sparring match with the Customs guy. I mentioned the great weather in Paris and he said too bad I had to come home to a snow storm and I said there isn't a storm and he said there is and I said there couldn't be because my son had told me there was no snow yet and it was dawning on me that I ought not to be arguing with the guy holding my passport when he handed it back to me, waived me on and said he now feels bad for the son who hadn't yet told me about the storm. In Quintyn's defense he did send a text to my e-mail address but I wasn't able to access the internet at that airport.
No problems with the flight to Newark, but the flight out of there was delayed an hour due to the plane coming in being delayed. At one point a Continental Rep got on the intercom and said the flight was overbooked and could they have a volunteer give up their seat. They would get a $600 credit for a future flight and a seat on the next flight out. At first I thought "that could be my ticket to California next year", then I thought, "screw it. I'm tired. I'm going home".
At home Quintyn and our friend David picked me up. Quintyn carried my pack with no hint of heaviness and I came home to a clean house exactly as I'd left it. I slept hard through the night and have spent all day today doing nothing but catching up on the news, blogging, emailing, facebooking, putting stuff away, doing laundry, planning a party for friends from high school/Upward Bound and being so glad to not go anywhere. It's been a great day of rest. I am thankful for having been able to spend my Thanksgiving doing nada.
Tomorrow I will go downtown to people watch, do some light shopping and take in a movie or two. Thanks to all who followed my trip to Paris.
PS: no gremlins on the wing, but it was pretty on the trip from Newark with the sun setting....the picture was loading on it's side so here's the video. Shut the sound off. It's loud.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Paris - Day 9
Paris is simply a maze of streets - most cobble-stoned and amazingly beautiful but the frustrating thing is that there isn't really any uniformity to numbering or even where the name of street changes from one name to another. I'm used to even numbered buildings being on one side with the odd numbered buildings being on the other side and when a straight street suddenly changes names it should happen at the town line or at an obvious intersection with another street - not half way through a block just because. It may make sense to Parisians but I was dizzy from it all.
Maison de Victor Hugo is at 6 place des Vosges. I followed the signs from the metro and was led down an alley that ended at a park and split off to the right and left. With the park in front of me the space created a square. I saw the sign and was clearly was on place des Vosges. To the left of me I saw the door was labeled "1" so I turned left expecting I would go the half block, turn right, cross the street and find the even numbered doors. But it's not that easy - or difficult, depending on how literal a person you are. I'm extremely literal and that can be a bad thing sometimes.
Crossing the street brings you to another street. Well, what the hell? I remembered that some streets I'd come across had both the even and odd numbers on the same side when a park or other non-habited space was across from it so I turned back around and double checked numbers thinking I had missed seeing the even numbered doors. Back at the entrance to the alley I stood confused and probably looking pretty stupid when I saw ahead of me (or too the RIGHT of where I had first stood) a bunch of people coming out of a door at the far corner. Duh. Walking that way I saw the even numbed doors on this side. The place just doesn't make any sense to me.
Victor Hugo Museum - I don't think I've read anything by Mr. Hugo, but he's a writer and I love all writers. Honestly though, his being a writer wasn't why I chose to tour the apartment - 1 of many he lived in while in Paris. I wanted to see the architecture of the building and the furniture. As with most museums trying to recreate the homes of their subjects, not all the possessions in the apartment actually belonged to the Hugos, but many did. One piece that gave me a sense of bringing it all together was a bust of Hugo done by Rodin. That fascinated me because of my tour of the Rodin space.
One thing I really liked here was that some of Mr. Hugo's books were shown and it really inspired me to want to have several books written by me and able to be shown when I'm dead and famous. Although I think I wouldn't want someone to put a museum together about me because they just wouldn't do it correctly. I'd hate for them to have some piece of god-awful furniture or stupid photo and tell people that it was my favorite thing in the world because I may have commented on it once or been too kind to it's creator to tell them it was shit. No, don't let anyone make a museum for me unless it's one of my kids and they get all the money.
Musee de Carnavalet - This museum of the history of Paris is in 2 adjoined townhouses. There were no pictures allowed in the museum but there was one guy who blatantly snapped photos non stop so when it came to seeing a piece that I fell in love with I couldn't help but take a picture...then I saw another piece and took another picture, but though I'm the poster child for rebellion I 1. didn't want to get in trouble for taking pictures and 2. appreciate the reason for a museum asking for the respect of their rules even though, in my humble opinion, the lighting this particular museum had for display is worse for the pieces than any photography could be.
Also, a person can walk away from something with a thousand pictures but not with the sense they actually experienced something. Unless it's a sunset or moving something or other I take a moment to study it, decide if I like it or not then take a picture. I studied both these pieces until I was drooling. Sad, so sad they sit wasted and never to be used again. When Armageddon happens I won't be looting banks or even grocery stores...no, wait....when it happens I will loot a bank, then a grocery store then I will settle myself in a museum and use the furniture and give it it's life back as the rest of the world is falling apart. When all has calmed down and the world is reborn I will be the Queen with all the good furniture.
The last place to check out on this trip was the Musee de Monmartre. It's housed in a building where many artists lived and worked together - a regular commune. The museum holds many pieces by Toulouse-Lautrec and showcases the Bohemian lifestyle that came from that section of town in the late 1800's to early 1900's....belle epoque. The tour starts in the basement then works its way up three flights. It's a cute, cute place. I love the narrow buildings but the stairs killed me. I got to keep my umbrella with me this time and thank goodness because it makes for a wonderful cane when my knees pretend to be 75 years old.
It was here, through the audio guide, I finally understood the whole chat noir thing. It also explained the black cat upon entering the gift shop. If I could go back in time I would go back to the late 1800's and be an expatriate writer in France and hang out with all the great artists of the day at Moulin Rouge.
Off to bed. A plane awaits along with a backpack that is much too heavy for me to want to deal with.
Maison de Victor Hugo is at 6 place des Vosges. I followed the signs from the metro and was led down an alley that ended at a park and split off to the right and left. With the park in front of me the space created a square. I saw the sign and was clearly was on place des Vosges. To the left of me I saw the door was labeled "1" so I turned left expecting I would go the half block, turn right, cross the street and find the even numbered doors. But it's not that easy - or difficult, depending on how literal a person you are. I'm extremely literal and that can be a bad thing sometimes.
Crossing the street brings you to another street. Well, what the hell? I remembered that some streets I'd come across had both the even and odd numbers on the same side when a park or other non-habited space was across from it so I turned back around and double checked numbers thinking I had missed seeing the even numbered doors. Back at the entrance to the alley I stood confused and probably looking pretty stupid when I saw ahead of me (or too the RIGHT of where I had first stood) a bunch of people coming out of a door at the far corner. Duh. Walking that way I saw the even numbed doors on this side. The place just doesn't make any sense to me.
Victor Hugo Museum - I don't think I've read anything by Mr. Hugo, but he's a writer and I love all writers. Honestly though, his being a writer wasn't why I chose to tour the apartment - 1 of many he lived in while in Paris. I wanted to see the architecture of the building and the furniture. As with most museums trying to recreate the homes of their subjects, not all the possessions in the apartment actually belonged to the Hugos, but many did. One piece that gave me a sense of bringing it all together was a bust of Hugo done by Rodin. That fascinated me because of my tour of the Rodin space.
One thing I really liked here was that some of Mr. Hugo's books were shown and it really inspired me to want to have several books written by me and able to be shown when I'm dead and famous. Although I think I wouldn't want someone to put a museum together about me because they just wouldn't do it correctly. I'd hate for them to have some piece of god-awful furniture or stupid photo and tell people that it was my favorite thing in the world because I may have commented on it once or been too kind to it's creator to tell them it was shit. No, don't let anyone make a museum for me unless it's one of my kids and they get all the money.
Musee de Carnavalet - This museum of the history of Paris is in 2 adjoined townhouses. There were no pictures allowed in the museum but there was one guy who blatantly snapped photos non stop so when it came to seeing a piece that I fell in love with I couldn't help but take a picture...then I saw another piece and took another picture, but though I'm the poster child for rebellion I 1. didn't want to get in trouble for taking pictures and 2. appreciate the reason for a museum asking for the respect of their rules even though, in my humble opinion, the lighting this particular museum had for display is worse for the pieces than any photography could be.
Also, a person can walk away from something with a thousand pictures but not with the sense they actually experienced something. Unless it's a sunset or moving something or other I take a moment to study it, decide if I like it or not then take a picture. I studied both these pieces until I was drooling. Sad, so sad they sit wasted and never to be used again. When Armageddon happens I won't be looting banks or even grocery stores...no, wait....when it happens I will loot a bank, then a grocery store then I will settle myself in a museum and use the furniture and give it it's life back as the rest of the world is falling apart. When all has calmed down and the world is reborn I will be the Queen with all the good furniture.
The last place to check out on this trip was the Musee de Monmartre. It's housed in a building where many artists lived and worked together - a regular commune. The museum holds many pieces by Toulouse-Lautrec and showcases the Bohemian lifestyle that came from that section of town in the late 1800's to early 1900's....belle epoque. The tour starts in the basement then works its way up three flights. It's a cute, cute place. I love the narrow buildings but the stairs killed me. I got to keep my umbrella with me this time and thank goodness because it makes for a wonderful cane when my knees pretend to be 75 years old.
It was here, through the audio guide, I finally understood the whole chat noir thing. It also explained the black cat upon entering the gift shop. If I could go back in time I would go back to the late 1800's and be an expatriate writer in France and hang out with all the great artists of the day at Moulin Rouge.
Off to bed. A plane awaits along with a backpack that is much too heavy for me to want to deal with.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Paris - Day 8
My day started with a trip to a cemetery. I went to see if I could find a fellow by the name of Jim Morrison. Both my son Ben and my friend Kim said that they wanted me to go see this guy. This being the trip of doing the cliche I said of course I would go pay a visit to the music icon. Any reason to visit a cemetery is a good one for me. I'll tell ya, though, the more cemeteries I visit, the more comfortable I feel in having made the decision to be cremated and thrown. For the record I want most of me to be thrown off Prospect Rock in Johnson, some thrown at camp and a little bit put on my dad's grave in LA.
Time, weather and assholes are not kind to cemeteries. I'd rather just be floating with the wind than having my grave desecrated by vandals, birds, floods, tree roots, etc.
At the Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise the office has maps detailing plots of famous people. There are two maps - one for literary figures and another for musical figures. The lanes in the cemetery are just as jumbled as the streets in Paris so good luck getting where you're headed without getting off track at least once. There was a lady out front stopping people and insisting that she is the guide and you can't go in without paying her to be the guide. I think she's a real guide but she's a schister too and I told her I was a guide as well and I didn't need her services. It wasn't a complete lie. I guided myself.
I found Mr. Morrison and the only other one I wanted to see - Gertrude Stein. I was in there over an hour. Cemeteries are very peaceful places and I took a few minutes to sit down and finally write out my postcards. Here are some pictures from JM's plot:
Do you remember buying 45's and listening to the A-side over and over again? Did you ever accidentally play the B-side and wonder what the eff? I'm the kind of person who bought the 45 and listened to the B-side on purpose hoping for some kind of the same as the A-side but different, edgy. Going into the Dali Museum is the kind of thing that makes a person say "what the eff". This place has about 300 of Dali's B-side works but I really thought the whole thing was fascinating. This guy was right on the edge of every line of being. I wish I had discovered him earlier in life.
For dinner I went to the Moulin Rouge. It's a 3 course meal and for this chick who pretty much calls Denny's home I was way out of my comfort zone, but I muddled through and survived - used all the wrong utensils and totally didn't see the potatoes under the fish - but I survived. I had a half bottle of champagne all to myself, too. I could only get through a glass and a half before I knew it was time to stop so I offered the rest of my bottle to a couple at my table they were lushes and happy to take the rest of the bottle off my hands.
The show was fantastic. Two hours full of singing, dancing and costumes. There was so much going on the whole time. Magnificent, truly magnificent. It's a spectacular spectacle to quote the movie. No pictures allowed so you only get an exterior shot from the Starbucks across the street. PS: the best caramel machiato I've ever had I had this afternoon at this Starbucks.
Time, weather and assholes are not kind to cemeteries. I'd rather just be floating with the wind than having my grave desecrated by vandals, birds, floods, tree roots, etc.
At the Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise the office has maps detailing plots of famous people. There are two maps - one for literary figures and another for musical figures. The lanes in the cemetery are just as jumbled as the streets in Paris so good luck getting where you're headed without getting off track at least once. There was a lady out front stopping people and insisting that she is the guide and you can't go in without paying her to be the guide. I think she's a real guide but she's a schister too and I told her I was a guide as well and I didn't need her services. It wasn't a complete lie. I guided myself.
I found Mr. Morrison and the only other one I wanted to see - Gertrude Stein. I was in there over an hour. Cemeteries are very peaceful places and I took a few minutes to sit down and finally write out my postcards. Here are some pictures from JM's plot:
Do you remember buying 45's and listening to the A-side over and over again? Did you ever accidentally play the B-side and wonder what the eff? I'm the kind of person who bought the 45 and listened to the B-side on purpose hoping for some kind of the same as the A-side but different, edgy. Going into the Dali Museum is the kind of thing that makes a person say "what the eff". This place has about 300 of Dali's B-side works but I really thought the whole thing was fascinating. This guy was right on the edge of every line of being. I wish I had discovered him earlier in life.
For dinner I went to the Moulin Rouge. It's a 3 course meal and for this chick who pretty much calls Denny's home I was way out of my comfort zone, but I muddled through and survived - used all the wrong utensils and totally didn't see the potatoes under the fish - but I survived. I had a half bottle of champagne all to myself, too. I could only get through a glass and a half before I knew it was time to stop so I offered the rest of my bottle to a couple at my table they were lushes and happy to take the rest of the bottle off my hands.
The show was fantastic. Two hours full of singing, dancing and costumes. There was so much going on the whole time. Magnificent, truly magnificent. It's a spectacular spectacle to quote the movie. No pictures allowed so you only get an exterior shot from the Starbucks across the street. PS: the best caramel machiato I've ever had I had this afternoon at this Starbucks.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Paris - Day 7
I was the only one at breakfast this morning. The little room they have here at the hotel has several tables and each morning you can find most of the spaces set for breakfast with a chunk of bread, croissant, yogurt, coffee mug, juice glass and fixings for the bread and coffee. If I have a big breakfast I feel bogged down so this is a nice quick meal to get me going. It's weird though because the chick who takes the payment also comes over to fill the juice glass then fills the coffee mug and adds the milk. It's too much personal waiting on me for me to be comfortable with but I sit back and let her do her thing then I tip her 1 euro and she acts surprised every time. I think she's genuinely surprised but I can't help it. I'm a former waitress. I will always tip and mostly over tip. I know tips are generally added in but the whole thing is only 3 euros and when I get a tall coffee and croissant at Starbucks it's 6 euros.
I know it's expensive over here but I've tricked myself into thinking of costs as being in dollars and Vermont is expensive too so it all seems even in my head. It also helps that I'm actually staying within my budget. My goal is to not use the credit card at all and I really think I'll be able to meet the goal. Though there was a necklace today that I really, really want. It's 90 euros and I almost got it but my gosh darn efficient brain said, "You know you will buy a book and post cards too and you're already tired, so buy the stuff later so you don't have to carry it all day".
Darn it, that had me breaking one of my golden rules regarding do it now because you may not pass this way again and sure enough even though I did pass that way again I was carrying my dinner and then was half way back across the estate before I remembered I wanted to go get that necklace. The next two shops didn't have it so I'm going to be on a mission to find it or something similar the next two days.
This was my dinner so you can probably understand my distraction. There's a baked potato hiding under that gravy, peas, carrots and beef.
This was the scenery at dinner.
An Auntie commented on my Facebook page that I must be getting tired here on my trip...um, yes. That's about the only way I could possibly have thought yesterday's blog made any sense. I just phoned that one in. My apologies. I woke up this morning refreshed and ready to go but only had one place to go see. Fortunately the kings and queens of France were abundant in their flaunting of wealth and I had a vast amount of space to cover in my day at one place. I walked pretty much most of the time from 9am to 6pm today so I'm back to being ready for another long nap.
The train ride out to Versailles was just under an hour and I was able to take some pictures of graffiti for the kid. I don't think any of it is any good but he may think one or two pieces are ok. I don't condone graffiti. I think it's bad, but the kid is enamored with it and was interested in the possibility I might get some photos for him so I'm obliging. I haven't seen it much within Paris except for the metro tunnels.
I was worried about finding the Chateau of Versailles but had read that it's fairly easy to get to. One blog I read advised following the crowd after getting off the train. I did that as well as listen to the guy holding the door open. He said, "Cross the street, go right then left then voila"! It worked.
As I was walking I thought to myself how Versailles is actually it's own city and the Chateau is only a part of the city. I started thinking that instead of saying you're going to Versailles you really ought to say you're going to the Chateau of Versailles if that's the only place you're going while in Versailles. It's like people saying they're going to Burlington and really all they do is go to Church Street. Or they go to the U-Mall and that's in SOUTH Burlington. So, to make up for my faux pas I made a point of stopping in some shops on my way back to the train...no necklace there either, dammit.
The grounds at the Chateau are immense. They just go on and on. Back in the day the whole thing was open to the public. The peasants could just stroll around and do what they wanted. If they wanted an audience with the king or others in the house they probably did some kind of favor or paid a donation or something. They still can wander the grounds and getting into the building is more spelled out in that you need to purchase a ticket.
The picture below as quoted from the visitor's guide I purchased: "The Fountain of Latona tells the story taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses, an ancient masterpiece providing numerous themes to the decor of Versailles. An episode from Apollo's childhood is depicted here. His mother, Latona, having been ridiculed by the Lycian peasants, beseeches Jupiter for vengeance, who then turns them to frogs". Moral of the story? Don't piss a mom off.
There's gold in them thar walls.
I love fireplaces, marble and anything that allows me to sit.
All of the ceilings on the first floor have some kind of over the top decoration. The rooms have chandeliers and high doors and ceilings. I will no longer complain about my heating bill.
Marie Antoinette gave birth in this room and there were dozens and dozens of witnesses. Ew.
The king and queen would sit in the royal chairs, their children and grand children would sit on the stools at the table and the audience would sit away from the table and admire how the royalty ate their food.
Ok, I really want some kind of decoration like this around the light in my bedroom. I'm going to seriously look into a different fixture and maybe have Quintyn paint something around it. I love this stuff!
When the Chateau became too much for the king he would retreat further into the country to a little place called Grand Trianon. It's about a 30 minute walk from the Chateau so I can't imagine how he thought it was further in the country except that you can't see it from the Chateau. Not to be left out the queen got to have Petit Trianon. I'll take either of them as a year round home. I need to store all these visitor guides somewhere.
After all the red rooms, dark green rooms and gold, gold, gold, this yellow room was a nice sunny change.
Apparently I was very excited about the yellow room.
Petit Trianon is smaller but still as lavish as the rest of it all.
No wings and only three stories. Poor, poor queen had it so rough in the country home.
Marble, stone, gold....staircases deserve decorating too!
It'll be a light day tomorrow. Most stuff is closed on Mondays. Maybe I'll have time to finally write up some postcards.
I know it's expensive over here but I've tricked myself into thinking of costs as being in dollars and Vermont is expensive too so it all seems even in my head. It also helps that I'm actually staying within my budget. My goal is to not use the credit card at all and I really think I'll be able to meet the goal. Though there was a necklace today that I really, really want. It's 90 euros and I almost got it but my gosh darn efficient brain said, "You know you will buy a book and post cards too and you're already tired, so buy the stuff later so you don't have to carry it all day".
Darn it, that had me breaking one of my golden rules regarding do it now because you may not pass this way again and sure enough even though I did pass that way again I was carrying my dinner and then was half way back across the estate before I remembered I wanted to go get that necklace. The next two shops didn't have it so I'm going to be on a mission to find it or something similar the next two days.
This was my dinner so you can probably understand my distraction. There's a baked potato hiding under that gravy, peas, carrots and beef.
An Auntie commented on my Facebook page that I must be getting tired here on my trip...um, yes. That's about the only way I could possibly have thought yesterday's blog made any sense. I just phoned that one in. My apologies. I woke up this morning refreshed and ready to go but only had one place to go see. Fortunately the kings and queens of France were abundant in their flaunting of wealth and I had a vast amount of space to cover in my day at one place. I walked pretty much most of the time from 9am to 6pm today so I'm back to being ready for another long nap.
The train ride out to Versailles was just under an hour and I was able to take some pictures of graffiti for the kid. I don't think any of it is any good but he may think one or two pieces are ok. I don't condone graffiti. I think it's bad, but the kid is enamored with it and was interested in the possibility I might get some photos for him so I'm obliging. I haven't seen it much within Paris except for the metro tunnels.
I was worried about finding the Chateau of Versailles but had read that it's fairly easy to get to. One blog I read advised following the crowd after getting off the train. I did that as well as listen to the guy holding the door open. He said, "Cross the street, go right then left then voila"! It worked.
As I was walking I thought to myself how Versailles is actually it's own city and the Chateau is only a part of the city. I started thinking that instead of saying you're going to Versailles you really ought to say you're going to the Chateau of Versailles if that's the only place you're going while in Versailles. It's like people saying they're going to Burlington and really all they do is go to Church Street. Or they go to the U-Mall and that's in SOUTH Burlington. So, to make up for my faux pas I made a point of stopping in some shops on my way back to the train...no necklace there either, dammit.
The grounds at the Chateau are immense. They just go on and on. Back in the day the whole thing was open to the public. The peasants could just stroll around and do what they wanted. If they wanted an audience with the king or others in the house they probably did some kind of favor or paid a donation or something. They still can wander the grounds and getting into the building is more spelled out in that you need to purchase a ticket.
The picture below as quoted from the visitor's guide I purchased: "The Fountain of Latona tells the story taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses, an ancient masterpiece providing numerous themes to the decor of Versailles. An episode from Apollo's childhood is depicted here. His mother, Latona, having been ridiculed by the Lycian peasants, beseeches Jupiter for vengeance, who then turns them to frogs". Moral of the story? Don't piss a mom off.
When the Chateau became too much for the king he would retreat further into the country to a little place called Grand Trianon. It's about a 30 minute walk from the Chateau so I can't imagine how he thought it was further in the country except that you can't see it from the Chateau. Not to be left out the queen got to have Petit Trianon. I'll take either of them as a year round home. I need to store all these visitor guides somewhere.
Grand Trianon is way smaller than the Chateau - only two wings.
Petit Trianon is smaller but still as lavish as the rest of it all.
It'll be a light day tomorrow. Most stuff is closed on Mondays. Maybe I'll have time to finally write up some postcards.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Paris - Day 6
It was another beautiful day here in Paris. Knowing I would be in another high place I took my scarf with me and was ever so thankful I did. It may have been in the 50's on the ground but at the top of the Eiffel Tower it was windy and felt to be in the 30's.
First things first - I needed to get another metro pass. I tried to get the guy in the kiosk to help me but he just kept pointing to the machines on the left and aping out how I could do it myself. I've been going through that metro station everyday for 6 days now and I know that guy knows English so why he couldn't use his words I do not know. My son Ben has that same problem sometimes and I almost said to the guy in a motherly tone, "use your words, hun", but I thought better of it and figured I'd give the machine a try and the worst that would happen is I'd not be able to figure it out and then have to walk to the next metro to get that person to help me.
It really wasn't that difficult. The silver thing on the bottom of the screen rolls to make selections and English is a selection so I was on a roll after that. The only hard part was gathering all my bravery to put 60 euros in the machine and hope it didn't malfunction. All was well and I received my pass, receipt and correct change. I was off to my first stop.
Most of this trip has been about history going back hundreds of years. My house is 120 years old but that's nothing compared to most buildings in Paris - I will appreciate my house all more when I get back to it, that's for sure. Today's first stop had to do with recent history mixed with some old.
People a generation or so older than me will always remember where they were when President Kennedy was killed. One icon I will remember dying is Lady Diana. I watched her wedding and I followed her marriage and divorce. I admired her as a person. The night she passed away one of the kids was having a sleepover so I was awake well into the night making sure all went well with the boys. To keep myself awake I was watching tv and saw it all on the news that night. My cousin Stephen called me and we cried together for a while.
The car accident that led to her death took place in the tunnel beneath the Liberty Flame on Pont De L'Alma. People have taken to using the flame as a sort of memorial to the Lady. I visited to pay my respects.
Across the bridge is the tour for Les Egouts - the sewers. Why do people take a tour of a sewer? I don't know, but I can tell you that I wanted to do it plus I thought the idea of my being in the bowels of the city just before climbing to the top of the city in the same day was somewhat poetic. Gross, but poetic. The tour is in French but I've walked past the waste water treatment plant at home and toured the electric generating plant so I pretty much could figure out what the guy was saying. Plus that tad bit of French I barley passed in high school at least let me know that I needed to continue to laugh and nod in all the right places because the guide threw in a joke about Americans when he was showing us the scene with the rats. I'm sure it was a funny, haha kind of thing to lighten things up so I wasn't about to let people know I'm American and have them all being uncomfortable the rest of the tour. I'm really wanting to make a funny about the onion soup I had for dinner last night and how it evacuated from me and I wonder if I might have seen it again today but I won't do it.
The Americans....um, rats.
Literally it's a river of poop. A gushing river. Nasty.
They actually have displays of hardware and explanations of how it all works. Those are grate so you can walk over the river of poop.
Next I was off to the Eiffel Tower. This was not a happy experience but I'm not going to write up a rant - well, I did, but I deleted it. Let's just concentrate on the beauty of the tower, the nice view from the top and the experience of it all. BUT I will tell you that if you gave me a choice of the thousand steps at the Arc or the 3 lines at an hour each at the Tower for a view I would choose the Arc each and every time.
The yellow rectangle is the ticket booth. The line from it is the line to buy tickets. If you think of it as an "L" I am at the top of the "L" taking this picture.
Looking up.
Taken from across the river on my way back to the hotel.
Off to Versailles tomorrow. Rain is expected but I won't let that stop me. Au revoir, mes amies.
First things first - I needed to get another metro pass. I tried to get the guy in the kiosk to help me but he just kept pointing to the machines on the left and aping out how I could do it myself. I've been going through that metro station everyday for 6 days now and I know that guy knows English so why he couldn't use his words I do not know. My son Ben has that same problem sometimes and I almost said to the guy in a motherly tone, "use your words, hun", but I thought better of it and figured I'd give the machine a try and the worst that would happen is I'd not be able to figure it out and then have to walk to the next metro to get that person to help me.
It really wasn't that difficult. The silver thing on the bottom of the screen rolls to make selections and English is a selection so I was on a roll after that. The only hard part was gathering all my bravery to put 60 euros in the machine and hope it didn't malfunction. All was well and I received my pass, receipt and correct change. I was off to my first stop.
Most of this trip has been about history going back hundreds of years. My house is 120 years old but that's nothing compared to most buildings in Paris - I will appreciate my house all more when I get back to it, that's for sure. Today's first stop had to do with recent history mixed with some old.
People a generation or so older than me will always remember where they were when President Kennedy was killed. One icon I will remember dying is Lady Diana. I watched her wedding and I followed her marriage and divorce. I admired her as a person. The night she passed away one of the kids was having a sleepover so I was awake well into the night making sure all went well with the boys. To keep myself awake I was watching tv and saw it all on the news that night. My cousin Stephen called me and we cried together for a while.
The car accident that led to her death took place in the tunnel beneath the Liberty Flame on Pont De L'Alma. People have taken to using the flame as a sort of memorial to the Lady. I visited to pay my respects.
Across the bridge is the tour for Les Egouts - the sewers. Why do people take a tour of a sewer? I don't know, but I can tell you that I wanted to do it plus I thought the idea of my being in the bowels of the city just before climbing to the top of the city in the same day was somewhat poetic. Gross, but poetic. The tour is in French but I've walked past the waste water treatment plant at home and toured the electric generating plant so I pretty much could figure out what the guy was saying. Plus that tad bit of French I barley passed in high school at least let me know that I needed to continue to laugh and nod in all the right places because the guide threw in a joke about Americans when he was showing us the scene with the rats. I'm sure it was a funny, haha kind of thing to lighten things up so I wasn't about to let people know I'm American and have them all being uncomfortable the rest of the tour. I'm really wanting to make a funny about the onion soup I had for dinner last night and how it evacuated from me and I wonder if I might have seen it again today but I won't do it.
Next I was off to the Eiffel Tower. This was not a happy experience but I'm not going to write up a rant - well, I did, but I deleted it. Let's just concentrate on the beauty of the tower, the nice view from the top and the experience of it all. BUT I will tell you that if you gave me a choice of the thousand steps at the Arc or the 3 lines at an hour each at the Tower for a view I would choose the Arc each and every time.
Off to Versailles tomorrow. Rain is expected but I won't let that stop me. Au revoir, mes amies.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Paris - Day 5
It was in the 50's again today. I'm going to really dislike going home to winter, though I texted with the kid this evening and he says so far there's no snow in Burlington. My luck it will happen next week when I'm trying to get home and I'll be stuck in the Jersey airport over Thanksgiving. I did think ahead to that actually happening and was going to reserve a rental car so I could brave the elements to get home if I had to but the car rental would have been in the area of $300 because of not returning the car to the same place and I decided that if I'm going to spend $300 for being stuck in weather then it's going to get spent at the stores and restaurants in the Jersey airport.
I read a book recently and the title eludes me but I can tell you it was a good book. It was about the erotic people and places in European history. I like those kind of books. When I went to Nevada and Arizona a few years ago I found a book on prostitutes of the west. That was a good read, too. Anyway, in the European book there was a section concerning a museum of eroticism in Paris and I said to myself, "I think I'll go see that when I'm in Paris" and I did just that this morning. When I first walked in I started feeling a little skeezy - kind of like I was Paul Ruebens about to get caught masturbating in public, but as I moved through the first room I realized the stuff there really wasn't so bad considering all the nudity I've seen in museums over the past few days. Well, the museum stuff shows boobage and some blurry penileage but the Museum of Eroticism gets crafty and puts all the pieces together. Very triple x kind of stuff. I took a lot of pictures but really only a few are able to be put here because I can't remember the specifics of the terms and conditions of having this blog but I'm thinking I probably shouldn't throw up a shot of a giant penis or spread eagle vagina except maybe this one...
The card said "Nut Cracker". Too funny.
Chastity belt
Chastity belt - the full effect.
Now that the Concergerie is open again I went over there to see Marie Antoinette's last home. It wasn't pretty, but at least she had her own two guards and didn't have to share a cell. One of the museum guards had taken a liking to me and gave me a personal tour. There were 3 levels of cells. The lower level was a small cell - about 8' x 10' (my hotel room!) with straw on the floor and 15 people. The next level was about the same size room with 3 people on cots. The third level was for 1 person with a bed. Obviously it all depended on how much money you were willing to pay for the accommodation. I told my personal guard - let's call him Girard - I told Girard that if I were a prisoner I would have chosen the lower level, suffered though my sentence to let my family keep the money I could have spent, but now that I'm in my hotel room and I'm out of sorts just from not having my own bed, etc, I may actually want to have the second or third level.
Girard gave me a tour of the second floor and we headed out to the courtyard where he explained how the women were allowed to be out there all day and wash their clothes out there. They had no idea Marie was there with them. She stayed in her cell all day. Back at the door to go in and be done with the tour is when Girard finally asked me to dinner. I turned him down because I'm too fricking tired to deal with a date. But, gosh, he was sweet....and cute. Oh well.
The blade from the guillotine.
The women's courtyard. That's Girard to the right.
Another fun fact: the last execution by guillotine was in 1977. Can you believe that!?! As late as 1977 they were beheading people. Crazy.
I went to Maxim's next to tour an apartment Sarah Bernhardt once lived in. I'm sure not all the stuff in the museum was hers but it's all from the period of when she lived there - late 1800's. I think I could have been happy in that apartment with all the stuff. I could invite Girard to come and see me sometime and I could have eaten at Maxim's every night. Yeah, it could be fun.
I walked up the Champs Elysees, bought a chocolate, banana crepe and was in heaven. At the end of the street I was at the Arc de Triomphe and it was close to 6:30pm. I planned to go there sometime tomorrow and didn't think I'd be there for 6:30pm so I was glad to sort of accidentally find myself there tonight. They have the ceremony for lighting the eternal flame at 6:30pm every night.
After the ceremony I figured since I was there I may as well go to the top and see what I could see. Well, we all know I'm not the most physically fit person but I made it up and I made it back down without once single heart attack so I'm very happy about that.
A beautiful evening.
Eternal flame.
I went up and then I went down. I will take a nap now.
I read a book recently and the title eludes me but I can tell you it was a good book. It was about the erotic people and places in European history. I like those kind of books. When I went to Nevada and Arizona a few years ago I found a book on prostitutes of the west. That was a good read, too. Anyway, in the European book there was a section concerning a museum of eroticism in Paris and I said to myself, "I think I'll go see that when I'm in Paris" and I did just that this morning. When I first walked in I started feeling a little skeezy - kind of like I was Paul Ruebens about to get caught masturbating in public, but as I moved through the first room I realized the stuff there really wasn't so bad considering all the nudity I've seen in museums over the past few days. Well, the museum stuff shows boobage and some blurry penileage but the Museum of Eroticism gets crafty and puts all the pieces together. Very triple x kind of stuff. I took a lot of pictures but really only a few are able to be put here because I can't remember the specifics of the terms and conditions of having this blog but I'm thinking I probably shouldn't throw up a shot of a giant penis or spread eagle vagina except maybe this one...
Now that the Concergerie is open again I went over there to see Marie Antoinette's last home. It wasn't pretty, but at least she had her own two guards and didn't have to share a cell. One of the museum guards had taken a liking to me and gave me a personal tour. There were 3 levels of cells. The lower level was a small cell - about 8' x 10' (my hotel room!) with straw on the floor and 15 people. The next level was about the same size room with 3 people on cots. The third level was for 1 person with a bed. Obviously it all depended on how much money you were willing to pay for the accommodation. I told my personal guard - let's call him Girard - I told Girard that if I were a prisoner I would have chosen the lower level, suffered though my sentence to let my family keep the money I could have spent, but now that I'm in my hotel room and I'm out of sorts just from not having my own bed, etc, I may actually want to have the second or third level.
Girard gave me a tour of the second floor and we headed out to the courtyard where he explained how the women were allowed to be out there all day and wash their clothes out there. They had no idea Marie was there with them. She stayed in her cell all day. Back at the door to go in and be done with the tour is when Girard finally asked me to dinner. I turned him down because I'm too fricking tired to deal with a date. But, gosh, he was sweet....and cute. Oh well.
Another fun fact: the last execution by guillotine was in 1977. Can you believe that!?! As late as 1977 they were beheading people. Crazy.
I went to Maxim's next to tour an apartment Sarah Bernhardt once lived in. I'm sure not all the stuff in the museum was hers but it's all from the period of when she lived there - late 1800's. I think I could have been happy in that apartment with all the stuff. I could invite Girard to come and see me sometime and I could have eaten at Maxim's every night. Yeah, it could be fun.
I walked up the Champs Elysees, bought a chocolate, banana crepe and was in heaven. At the end of the street I was at the Arc de Triomphe and it was close to 6:30pm. I planned to go there sometime tomorrow and didn't think I'd be there for 6:30pm so I was glad to sort of accidentally find myself there tonight. They have the ceremony for lighting the eternal flame at 6:30pm every night.
After the ceremony I figured since I was there I may as well go to the top and see what I could see. Well, we all know I'm not the most physically fit person but I made it up and I made it back down without once single heart attack so I'm very happy about that.
Paris - Day 4
My apologies for writing this one a day late. I have learned a great lesson from this trip though...I am not the super human person I pretend to be. I've over planned, over scheduled, over walked, over pushed myself, over slept and over done it. I was beat last night and didn't even journal very long. I will try to not try so hard in the future.
Architecture
The Kiss
van Gogh's View on the Viaduct, Arles
Next it was L'Orangerie just so I could say that I've seen the 8 huge Monet's and to stalk another place from the movie "Midnight in Paris". So, I saw these big canvases Monet did and yeah, yeah, they were pretty. But the best part was Renoir, Cezanne and Matisse. Oh my gosh, I can't believe how much I like Matisse.
Cezanne's La Barque et les baigneurs
Matisse's Femmes au canape ou Le Divan
My last place to visit was the Orsey Museum. This one is full of everything but I was too pooped to care about much more than the HOLY CRAP THERE ARE A COUPLE DOZEN vAN GOGH's HERE!!!!! Well, I suddenly had some pep back and I was on a mission to see the van Gogh's. Disappointed I was not. Other artists include Toulous-Lautrec, Renoir, Gaugain, Renoir, Monet and Manet. The Louvre is a warehouse compared to this place. Unfortunately they don't allow pictures and the few times I only thought of sneaking out my camera a guard seemed to pop out of nowhere. I'll give you this picture though. It's from Wednesday when I was near the Pantheon.
Steps at Saint-Etienne-du-Mont where Owen Wilson sat when the 1920's drove up to him in "Midnight in Paris". Have I mentioned how much I liked that movie?
Before I end I must point out how much I love technology - most especially digital cameras. I remember getting my first 110 when I was 10 years old or so and going to town taking pictures with that thing. Problem was that we didn't have much money when I was a kid so since my mom had already spent money on the camera it took a while before she could shell out the money to get the film developed and then more time before I could get more film. And it would be so disappointing to find that half to most of the pictures were bad, blurry or just blank. With my digital I can take several shots of the same thing, see right away if the picture needs to be deleted and I can take hundreds upon hundreds of pictures as long as the battery holds out. I have two batteries thanks to that one time I left my battery charging in the hotel and had to buy a new one while out and about in New Orleans. I also like having people in my pictures. Seeing the way people dress historically is awesome and it adds more to the picture of the building, statue etc...not the paintings. People need to get out of my way for pictures of paintings.
When finally rolled out of bed yesterday afternoon I headed to the Rodin Museum. Though his works can be found all over the world, this building housed so many that I was reminded of my front room which is housing quite a few of Quintyn's paintings. I wondered if when he gets famous can I open my front room up and charge a buck or two for people to come in and gawk? I could even have a small gift shop and sell some of the kid's old junk or maybe pieces of his hair. I'd make a killing.
I like Rodin's work but I equally liked the architecture of the building housing the works. The building is the former Hotel Biron and it's beautiful. I've always loved the detail of wood in old buildings. I also really like when the wall is decorated with stencils or pictures. He was an erotic kind of artist. I took about 10 pictures of "The Kiss". One funny part about being in the museum when I was is that a school tour was going through - 5th or 6th graders maybe. Let's just say some of the boys looked a little uncomfortable. There were also two van Gogh's and since they were my first ones here in Paris I was hap, hap, happy.
Looking at a few of the works I knew for sure I'd seen them before but turns out he, and other artists made several versions of the same scene, etc. I suppose I knew that but for some reason it never really clicked. So, it's like you can go crazy for version #2 but #4 is the one worth millions more. That part I don't get.
Next it was L'Orangerie just so I could say that I've seen the 8 huge Monet's and to stalk another place from the movie "Midnight in Paris". So, I saw these big canvases Monet did and yeah, yeah, they were pretty. But the best part was Renoir, Cezanne and Matisse. Oh my gosh, I can't believe how much I like Matisse.
My last place to visit was the Orsey Museum. This one is full of everything but I was too pooped to care about much more than the HOLY CRAP THERE ARE A COUPLE DOZEN vAN GOGH's HERE!!!!! Well, I suddenly had some pep back and I was on a mission to see the van Gogh's. Disappointed I was not. Other artists include Toulous-Lautrec, Renoir, Gaugain, Renoir, Monet and Manet. The Louvre is a warehouse compared to this place. Unfortunately they don't allow pictures and the few times I only thought of sneaking out my camera a guard seemed to pop out of nowhere. I'll give you this picture though. It's from Wednesday when I was near the Pantheon.
Before I end I must point out how much I love technology - most especially digital cameras. I remember getting my first 110 when I was 10 years old or so and going to town taking pictures with that thing. Problem was that we didn't have much money when I was a kid so since my mom had already spent money on the camera it took a while before she could shell out the money to get the film developed and then more time before I could get more film. And it would be so disappointing to find that half to most of the pictures were bad, blurry or just blank. With my digital I can take several shots of the same thing, see right away if the picture needs to be deleted and I can take hundreds upon hundreds of pictures as long as the battery holds out. I have two batteries thanks to that one time I left my battery charging in the hotel and had to buy a new one while out and about in New Orleans. I also like having people in my pictures. Seeing the way people dress historically is awesome and it adds more to the picture of the building, statue etc...not the paintings. People need to get out of my way for pictures of paintings.
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