Gay Paris--harharharh oh wait.
Jan. 2nd, 2006 08:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheen--The City of Paris: Still Prettier Than You ALL.
City of New York Protests: Hey, lady, 'least we're not cracking eggs with that street cleavage there.
...except that it's true.
--I do not speak French or rather I speak six years of middle school-highschool french which means. Well. I do not speak French. My dialogue, therefore, when necessary, consisted of meek nods and pointing and a general apologetic nature for the butchering of ones mother tongue. This, however, is a problem that is not relegated just to French, but also those foolish other languages which include: Italian, Portuguese, German, and most especially English. Je ne peux pas parle Anglais. Damn.
--...of course when you're an American tourist no one expects that much of you.
--Snow. Snow, snow, snow. People can bitch about cold and snow on vacation but I will not hear of it. There was snow, and it was awesome. At one point, coming back across the river, it started falling so heavily that you could not see the right bank. The wind was blowing directly in my face. And when you looked back you could kind of see the buildings vanishing a few paces behind you. It was amazingly cool, actually.
--little things like a flash blizzard do not, of course, stop ferris wheels from running. No, no, no. See, not only was it still running, but people were still lining up for it in the snow.
--Incidentally, walking five metro stops from the Arc de Triomphe, through the Tuileries, to ones hotel across from the entrance of the Louvre? Right from a seven hour plane trip? Luggage and all? ...was actually the best thing to do on the first day. The air was cold and it felt nice after being cramped in a plane/bus-from-the-airport for so long.
--There was a lot of walking.
--There was also a lot of visiting of the museums.
--on that vein: ...ok, the Rodin museum? Was hot. No, seriously. Some of those sculptures were about the most sensual things ever, especially the unfinished ones where you had basically these twisting bodies half emerged and half entangled in the stone. Also, so many hands and tangled fingers and figures turned to show off the well-proportioned, graceful lines of their backs-- .....and then there was a fish-lady. Who I guess was hot too, if you go for that sort of thing.
--"..I wonder what's out here-- oh, dude, it's the Thinker!"
-- ...left the Piccaso museum feeling kinda motion sick.
--I could say something about the Louvre--but I think the best things were said when I visited eight years ago, and my dad and me declared my then three month old cousin the new ruler of the Roman Empire.
--The Grand Palace, so greatly lauded as newly renovated, was um. Very fabulous.
--In relation to that: ....selling champagne in close proximity to bumper cars. Pros and cons. Discuss.
--Paris was dead New Year's day. No cars, no people, shops all closed. It was like the whole city had a hangover.
--...french theatre is really cool.
--the accoustics in churches are really really cool.
--...giant floating talking angel sculptures trying to sell you on Christianity are scary, though.
--Croissants. ♥ ♥ ♥
--Paris feels sort of like that well-dressed, aging socialite who still knows what to wear, who to meet, where to be and can still make it look good.
--I think that's overall what I love about Europe every time I go. Everything's just. so much older than anything you find back home. Really it's such a sprawl of ancient and old and new and newer. You have these big ugly modern buildings overlooking cathedrals. You have flashing lights and paved streets named after poets and battles and then then you can turn the corner and see this little building that survived the last time the city was ripped apart and put back together again. The sidewalks are dirty, there are cars crunched together everywhere. The streets only get narrower the farther back you go. It's jumbled and crazy and not pristine at all but it's just so filled with general life that it's the most perfect rush.
--I think all cities have this, to a degree. They're these living, breathing things. They have veins and arteries in their streets and their rivers and their body parts are their districts, their business areas, their touristy bits, their residential areas-- in varying health depending on the circulation of the times. Cities have people in the bloodstream. It makes them the most amazing beasts imaginable. Big and sprawling and big and so so much personality.
--...raspberry ice cream=orgasm in my mouth.
--Yup. Still prettier.
--Also, baguettes.
--and, somehow, I did not get horribly lost.
And a happy new year. ♥
City of New York Protests: Hey, lady, 'least we're not cracking eggs with that street cleavage there.
...except that it's true.
--I do not speak French or rather I speak six years of middle school-highschool french which means. Well. I do not speak French. My dialogue, therefore, when necessary, consisted of meek nods and pointing and a general apologetic nature for the butchering of ones mother tongue. This, however, is a problem that is not relegated just to French, but also those foolish other languages which include: Italian, Portuguese, German, and most especially English. Je ne peux pas parle Anglais. Damn.
--...of course when you're an American tourist no one expects that much of you.
--Snow. Snow, snow, snow. People can bitch about cold and snow on vacation but I will not hear of it. There was snow, and it was awesome. At one point, coming back across the river, it started falling so heavily that you could not see the right bank. The wind was blowing directly in my face. And when you looked back you could kind of see the buildings vanishing a few paces behind you. It was amazingly cool, actually.
--little things like a flash blizzard do not, of course, stop ferris wheels from running. No, no, no. See, not only was it still running, but people were still lining up for it in the snow.
--Incidentally, walking five metro stops from the Arc de Triomphe, through the Tuileries, to ones hotel across from the entrance of the Louvre? Right from a seven hour plane trip? Luggage and all? ...was actually the best thing to do on the first day. The air was cold and it felt nice after being cramped in a plane/bus-from-the-airport for so long.
--There was a lot of walking.
--There was also a lot of visiting of the museums.
--on that vein: ...ok, the Rodin museum? Was hot. No, seriously. Some of those sculptures were about the most sensual things ever, especially the unfinished ones where you had basically these twisting bodies half emerged and half entangled in the stone. Also, so many hands and tangled fingers and figures turned to show off the well-proportioned, graceful lines of their backs-- .....and then there was a fish-lady. Who I guess was hot too, if you go for that sort of thing.
--"..I wonder what's out here-- oh, dude, it's the Thinker!"
-- ...left the Piccaso museum feeling kinda motion sick.
--I could say something about the Louvre--but I think the best things were said when I visited eight years ago, and my dad and me declared my then three month old cousin the new ruler of the Roman Empire.
--The Grand Palace, so greatly lauded as newly renovated, was um. Very fabulous.
--In relation to that: ....selling champagne in close proximity to bumper cars. Pros and cons. Discuss.
--Paris was dead New Year's day. No cars, no people, shops all closed. It was like the whole city had a hangover.
--...french theatre is really cool.
--the accoustics in churches are really really cool.
--...giant floating talking angel sculptures trying to sell you on Christianity are scary, though.
--Croissants. ♥ ♥ ♥
--Paris feels sort of like that well-dressed, aging socialite who still knows what to wear, who to meet, where to be and can still make it look good.
--I think that's overall what I love about Europe every time I go. Everything's just. so much older than anything you find back home. Really it's such a sprawl of ancient and old and new and newer. You have these big ugly modern buildings overlooking cathedrals. You have flashing lights and paved streets named after poets and battles and then then you can turn the corner and see this little building that survived the last time the city was ripped apart and put back together again. The sidewalks are dirty, there are cars crunched together everywhere. The streets only get narrower the farther back you go. It's jumbled and crazy and not pristine at all but it's just so filled with general life that it's the most perfect rush.
--I think all cities have this, to a degree. They're these living, breathing things. They have veins and arteries in their streets and their rivers and their body parts are their districts, their business areas, their touristy bits, their residential areas-- in varying health depending on the circulation of the times. Cities have people in the bloodstream. It makes them the most amazing beasts imaginable. Big and sprawling and big and so so much personality.
--...raspberry ice cream=orgasm in my mouth.
--Yup. Still prettier.
--Also, baguettes.
--and, somehow, I did not get horribly lost.
And a happy new year. ♥
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 06:48 pm (UTC)You mean you didn't solve a religious riddle in a painting and write a mediocre novel about it?
Glad you had a good time! See you in a few weeks!
WAIT WHAT CITY AM I IN LOVE WITH AGAIN
Date: 2006-01-02 07:24 pm (UTC)There is a tiny garden at the Mosque where you can go in the evenings and order hookah that tastes a bit like anise and a bit like brown sugar, and chase the smoke with eastern pastries and mint tea so sweet it makes your teeth ache. The man by the door will crack jokes at you in heavily-accented. broken French without pulling his own hookah pipe from his mouth.
There is a town called Auvers Sur Ouise, where Van Gogh died, where the boys from the Great War were brought to be buried, you take a ten-dollar train ticket and do a couple of interchanges on the RER before you get there. One interchange goes past a ghost village destroyed by fire, houses with empty windows wearing smudged mascara. Everything is green and blue and black. In Auvers you can go by Van Gogh's spare quarters and touch the walls. You can walk up the hill and past the river to the church and light a candle and sit in the empty pews and listen to the echo of your breath. You can feed the sparrows. (We met a Japanese rock band in the church's courtyard, they said we should party with them in Paris but never called back.) If you walk up the winding road between fields, there is a cemetery swathed in grass and wildflowers and grain stalks and filled with the buzz of cicadas. The death-dates on the headstones are all from 1914-1919, born in 1900, save Van Gogh's and his brother Theo's.
The Musee d'Orsay and the ORIGINE DU MONDE.
The dappled sun on the sidewalks of Montmartre, carousels and barbershops.
The hippie drummers in the Plaza de Saint Michel; you can get a half-liter of beer and go dancing at two in the afternoon.
The Shakespeare & Company bookstore on the left bank by Notre-Dame, where I would kill and steal and sell my soul to work one day, where all the clerks are vastly attractive and have sweet Brit accents and debate the merits of Louis de Bernieres and shove "A Moveable Feast" in your face saying YOU MUST READ IT OH YOU MUST.
The four a.m. drunken taxiless Walk of Shame.
Luxembourg Gardens, where you can sleep on the grass if you're tired. Hemingway used to come here in the winters, wrapped in every sweater he had, to write in his moleskine.
I am in love with that city. When I finally had to leave, I cried.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 08:16 pm (UTC)When we went--ten years ago, it must have been--the best thing about the vacation was that every morning, the cozy little bed and breakfast we stayed at (with an old-fashioned elevator cranking slowly up the center of the building) put out chocolate croissants for breakfast.
(Not that I don't remember other things, like the Louvre being kind of overrated and the Musee d'Orsay being cooler than I expected, but. Chocolate croissants.)
...I love European cities. I want to see more. (Although mostly I want to go back to London.)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 08:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-02 11:18 pm (UTC)You have made me need a Paris icon. Will go make it right now.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-05 01:35 am (UTC)But-- if my screenname is any indication-- let it never be said that snow or winter are not beautiful. My gods above, I hate this chill-less state.
The Ferris wheel anecdote makes me smile. *paws at Canada* ;;