Des larmes au Louvre

It could be viewed as unfortunate that one of my most vivid memories of Paris is a sad one. But the melancholic image is so beautiful that I don't mind reliving it.

It was mid-December. A period of my Parisian experience that is a blur of travel plans, my brother's visit and the excitement and disappointment of that lost internship debacle.

Ben and I were visiting the Louvre during its Wednesday nocturnal hours. After stopping by the random bits that we wanted to see, we decided to pass through the ever-crowded halls of large-format romantic paintings. Giant tableaux by French romanticism's heavy hitters - Delacroix, Ingres, David - abound. The richly painted ruby rooms are noisy and crowded but an eternal must-see.

Exhausted from a long day, difficulty sleeping and the wear of depression, I nearly collapsed on one of the large hall's giant leather ottomans. Sitting side-by-side with my brother an argument over something or another broke out between us. With my emotions intensified by everything that had happened over the last few days, I began to cry. There, with swarms of Japanese tourists and Parisian art students whizzing by, with giant walls covered with epic, larger-than-life paintings, I sat silently sobbing.

And the last thing I remember is my brother, without saying a word, putting his arm around me in the only gesture that could possibly matter.

Ce que je veux faire avant de rentrer

As promised, here's my semi-translated first draft of my list of things that I want to do before leaving Paris. It's random and it's so much, but I think I can do it!

• See at least one play
• Finish my "City Walks of Paris"
• Find all the landmarks from the film Charade
• Watch at least one more French movie at a theater
• Read along one of the quais of Ile Saint-Louis
• Drink with friends on the quais of the Seine/Pont des arts/along Canal St.-Martin
• Watch at least one film from the Nouvelle Vague at the film library
• Actually send people postcards !
• Watch a French film at Reid Hall
• See the French production of The Lion King
• Go to the Comédie Française
• Eat a macaroon
• Go to the flea markets

• See the following expositions before their respective end dates:
  « Notorious » (le 22 février)
  « Rapa Nui, L'Ile de Pâques » (le 1er mars)
  « Instants d'architecture » à la Maison du Danemark (le 8 mars)
  « Gainsbourg 2008 » à la Cité de la Musique (le 15 mars)
  « Le petit dessein » au Louvre (le 13 avril)
  « 80 + 80, photo_graphisme » (le 25 avril)
  « Le Petit Nicolas» (le 7 mai)
  

• Visit the following:
  Musée de Picasso
  Maison de Victor Hugo
  Musée Rodin
  L'Orangerie
  Musée d’art moderne de la ville de Paris (again)
  Musée de Cluny
  Musée de la vie romantique
  Espace Krajcberg
  

• Outside of Paris:
  Giverny
  A weekend trip with my mom
  The South of France
  Bois de Boulogne
  Bois de Vincennes
  Take a day trip to one other French city outside of Paris
  Brussels
  

• Look at the gare Saint-Lazare
• Look at the gare de l'Est
• Go in Notre-Dame
• Find Guy de Maupassant's tomb at the Cemetery Montparnasse
• Return to see the auditorium of the Opera

• Explore:
  Parc Montsouris
  Cemetery Montmartre
  

This list is a "work in progress," and I'll be returning to add things or cross things out as I do them!

Expos et promenades: Ma vie parisienne

Lately I’ve been doing a lot of what my friend Zoë so elegantly called “carping the diem.” And by that I mean leaving the comfort of my room, getting out there and doing interesting things in this lovely city. This week I’ve had a lot of “Oh yeah, I’m in PARIS” moments so here’s a brief rundown:

• Watched François Truffaut’s Les 400 Coups and spotted 17th-arrondissement landmarks.
• Explored the 20th and looked out on foggy Paris from Parc de Belleville, a vantage point 26 feet higher than Montmartre.
• Navigated around the massive Père LaChaise cemetery taking in the sullen and tranquil ambiance and gawking at the graves of: Baron Haussmann, David, Vivant Denon, Jim Morrison (stereotypical, but I kind of had to), Honoré de Balzac, Eugene Delacroix, Molière, Guillaume Apollinaire, Marcel Proust, Oscar Wilde and Edith Piaf.
• Took the bus – a lot – reading my collection of Anna Gavalda short stories all the while…oh how Parisian I have become.
• Visited Paris la Belle, an exposition on poet, screenwriter, lyricist and artist Jacques Prévert in the Hôtel de Ville.
• Browsed the Museum of modern art of the city of Paris.
• Strolled around Passy.
• Took advantage yet again of the soldes [sales] and spruced up my wardrobe more than was necessary – but when after someone asks me where I got such-and-such item I can haughtily respond “Paris,” it will all me worth it.
• Toured Balzac’s House where he lived and worked for seven years in what was then the outskirts of Paris.
• Benefitted from a fleeting sunny Parisian day by walking from my apartment across the Seine and past the Place de la Concorde to class in the 8th.
• Perused an intriguing photography exhibit at the Jeu de Paume, entitled Un regard étranger. Paris / Les Américains.
• Walked the length of the Tuilleries.
• Visited the Palais Royal and peered through the multicolored glass panes which give a look through the construction barriers onto the restoration of Daniel Buren’s Les Deux Plateaux installation.
• And I finished my sunny Friday afternoon reading peacefully in the Louvre.

La troisième ville : Vienne

I just watched The Third Man – an excellent film noir set in 1949 Vienna – this afternoon and was, thus, inspired to complete my travel triptych with my tales from Wien.

Of our three destinations, Vienna was the city that reminded me the most of Paris. Its late-19th-century buildings are of a similar architecture as those of Paris. Its Habsburg palaces blatantly recall the style and opulence of Versailles. And of the three cities, it was the place where I felt the guiltiest for not being able to speak the language. Although the Austrians didn’t seem as fervently zealous in their protection of German as the French are of their language, English was less common than in Amsterdam (where it was ubiquitous) and less appreciated than in Prague (where I detected mild amusement from those with which I spoke in English). I guess the city served as a good transition back to Paris.

We pulled into the bus station in Vienna around noon and proceed to the U-Bahn – Vienna’s equivalent of the Metro – where we successfully purchased our 72-hour passes and boarded the train in the direction of our accommodations. Thanks to a detailed map of the area that we had sketched out, using Google Maps, the night before, we avoided conflict and made it easily to the Elisabeth Guesthouse. When we arrived there was no on in sight and no response upon ringing the bell. We were searching for their phone number amongst my paperwork and standing confused in the hallway for a number of minutes when an endearing old Austrian man emerged from a nearby doorway. He eventually led us to our room which was more like a bitty apartment complete with kitchen and entryway.

We took the U-Bahn into town where we visited the impressive and very tall St. Stephen’s Cathedral. After that, we anticipated our standby tourism strategy of walking about the city looking at various pretty things. Unfortunately, the weather, which – coinciding with our departure from Prague – had recently turned frigid, foiled this tactic. We quickly grew very cold. We ducked into a nearby church to warm up, and Peterskirche [St. Peter’s Church] turned out to be a delightfully ornate Baroque art piece.

Fighting off the cold, we continued on to get a look at the Hofburg Palace, pride of the Habsburgs, and carried on to the MuseumsQuartier, an overly conceptual mall/museum complex where it seemed a number of things were closed. This was the moment when we began to realize that the Austrians must celebrate some sort of Boxing-Day-like holiday for which life shuts down on the day after Christmas. We began to fear the fermeture [closure] of all eating establishments, and dinner plans became a concern. Luckily, we had blown our remaining crowns on snacks at our nonstop convenience store in Prague so at least we wouldn’t go hungry. Nevertheless, we decided to walk the length of a major thoroughfare in search of something warm to eat. The only place open was MacDo [McDonald’s], and although we were reluctant – we passed one up before ultimately deciding to give in at the next – it turned out to be worth it, if only for the intriguing cross-cultural exchange that took place as I tried to order from the entertained (and entertaining) German-speaking cashier.

We called it a night and decide we would need to make more concrete plans for the next day in order to avoid growing bitter and cold on the streets of Vienna.

Saturday we hit up a grocery store, realizing the severity of our lack of food. We then hopped on the U-Bahn for the Belvedere. To get there we had to switch to the S-Bahn – Vienna’s equivalent of the RER – and thanks to some incompetency in reading signs we passed by the Prater theme park which allowed us to see the Ferris wheel featured in a dramatic scene between Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles in The Third Man.

We eventually headed back in the right direction and arrived at the Belvedere. Originally the summer palace of Prince Eugene of Savoy, it now hosts an impressive art collection. It understandably had an impressive selection of Klimts; although I don’t think I had heard of him before this trip, I grew to love the work of Gustav Klimt, pride of the modern Vienna art scene. The grand staircase and impressive rooms of both the Upper and Lower Belvedere buildings were also a treat. Plus, the French garden connecting them made me feel at home.

We ended up passing our day amongst the art and stopped off to look at the beautifully lit Karlskirche [St. Charles’s Church] before heading home for the night.

On our last day in Vienna, we stopped by the Secessionist Building whose art nouveau exterior was eye-catching and the Opera which was a bit of a rip-off of Paris’s Opera Garnier.

We spent most of the day in the Albertina, yet another palace-cum-gallery, where a recently donated personal collection featured works by painters from Monet to Picasso and everyone in between (and even some after like Francis Bacon and Mark Rothko). A random smattering of contemporary Austrian art with poorly written – or poorly translated – accompanying text also held our attention. The Habsburg staterooms were equally thrilling, presenting the allure of a fully reconstructed timepiece with prints from Dürer and others decorating the walls. This mixture of luxury and art was particularly appealing to me. It’s like getting two attractions for the price of one!

After I bought some chocolates as a souvenir for my host mom, we began our search around the St. Stephen’s Cathedral for some “Viennese treats” to cap off our stay. Apparently I am spoiled from living in Paris where cafés line the streets and dot each corner, but it was harder than expected to find a suitable establishment. We did eventually locate this immense eatery where I had the milkshake I had been looking for all week and some tiramisu – don’t judge…it’s required to indulge while on vacation – and Ben got a classic apple strudel. Before saying goodbye to Vienna we took the U-Bahn out to Schönbrunn Palace, the Habsburg’s summer retreat, to snap some photos and stare.

The next day, despite frustrations with the S-Bahn which decided to cancel a train making us wait on the cold quai [platform] for a good hour and ten minutes, we made it to the Vienna Airport and happily boarded our plane back to Paris.

Amsterdam sans souci

With the songs of the same name by Guster and Peter Bjorn & John ringing in my ears, Ben and I set off for Amsterdam ridiculously early on the day after my last class before break.

The train plowed through Belgium quicker than the Germans (too soon? I don’t think so) and made stops at all of the Netherlands’ major cities – which are surprisingly close together even for the tiny speck of a country that is Holland – before finding its terminus and our destination at Amsterdam’s Central Station.

Once we had located our adorable, canal-side hotel, one member of our party took an epic nap while the other explored the nearby Museum Quarter and the adorable Prince William Canal, noting interesting restaurants and attractions along the way. For dinner, we tried out the nearby Pancake Corner where I ate a “pizza pancake,” and Ben tapped his England nostalgia for some fish and chips.

We ended our night at the Van Gogh Museum which is open in nocturne Friday nights, complete with DJ. The atmosphere was fun, and the art was great. The large collection of Van Goghs was laid out chronologically, and detailed texts – always translated in perfect English – gave context and insight into Van Gogh’s troubled psyche.

The next day was full of walking – a common theme of our vacation(s) – and colonialism. We walked “Farther Afield” as our guidebook put it to the Tropenmuseum. Formerly a testament to the colonial glory of the Netherlands (yes, the tiny country was a colonial power, controlling the massive Indonesia for hundreds of years), the “Tropical Museum” now hopes to offer ethnographic “stories” from across the world. It was a bit like the Musée Quai Branly but much more anthropological. And although the cartoon Indian with an accent fit for Apu clearly crossed the line of good taste and cultural sensitivity, the museum was well-done and held the attention of two self-proclaimed po-co enthusiasts. Plus, an exhibition on the influence of Vodou in Haiti was enlightening and surprising.

After learning that the National Maritime Museum was closed for renovation – along with half of Amsterdam – we strolled about the harbor and back to the Leidseplein, the bustling plaza located near our hotel. We chose a British sports bar for dinner. This helped to cement Ben’s theory that Amsterdam is really just an extension of the UK. He says that Amsterdam was the most like Great Britain of any city he’s been to (outside of GB, of course).

The omnipresence of English and Dutch’s tonal familiarity helped to add to this Anglophonic atmosphere, but for me, the most important factor was le style de vie of the Dutch. They seemed so laid back, so breezy, so…happy. After living in Paris for four months, it was a shock to see Europeans who looked and acted carefree. They smiled and laughed as they passed, leisurely riding their bicycles. They weren’t overly concerned with their outfits, and they weren’t threatened by the English language the way the French are. They were visibly happy, something so rare chez les Français. It was a welcome break from my French surroundings.

Our third day in Amsterdam was filled with more museums. Having purchased a money-saving “museumkaart,” we had free access to all the state-run museums; tapping our frugal Dutch heritage, we profited. Although Amsterdam’s equivalent to the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum (“state museum”) was limited due to renovations, it offered a very manageable selection of the Dutch masters, including a sizeable Rembrandt collection and a number of Vermeers.

We tried to stop in at the Filmmuseum, but after a confusing exchange with the friendly cashier, eventually learned that they didn’t have an exposition showing.

The foam (fotografiemuseum Amsterdam) proved interesting, however, and we finished our night there before heading to the Pancake Bakery. Suggested by our guidebook, the intimate eatery offered over 50 varieties of traditional Dutch pancakes. Ben’s cinnamon-apple and my cheese pancakes were excellent, and the friendly service reminded me how different from Paris Amsterdam really was.

On our final day in the city, we finally embarked into the panic-attack inducing, tourist-filled areas of Amsterdam. Until this point, we’d mostly mingled amongst natives on the outskirts of town, but we decided we should see the city center before we departed. We dropped our bags off at Central Station and walked down Damrak. We found them alright; tourists swarmed the street like screaming teenagers at an ’N Sync concert circa 1999. Souvenir shops, fast food and tacky museums abounded. I found it hard to see the allure of this people-filled destination. I much preferred the quiet canals and local parks we had spent our first three days exploring. But the crowd-think mentality apparently rules among tourists. The good thing is this collective thinking makes them easy enough to avoid: simply hop on a side street or take the next road over and life will be nearly tourist-free.

After fighting off the crowds, we saw an intriguing contemporary art exhibit in the “New Church” – another Pont Neuf situation considering the church dates from the 15th century. Since Amsterdam’s contemporary art museum was closed for renovations – shocker – select pieces were on display within the church. The theme of spirituality united the exhibit, making the randomness of contemporary art more palatable. As always with the Dutch, the text accompanying the art was extensive and informative, this time presented in a take-home booklet.

We spent the afternoon in the amusing Amsterdam Historical Museum and passed by the “Old Church,” a 13th-century wonder located squarely in the Red Light District, just before closing.

We caught our bus to Prague later that night without a hitch.

We’d seen so much in Amsterdam that it felt like time to move on, but I was still sad to leave that laid-back Amsterdam style and those glorious canals behind.