Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Monday December 17th 2012


            The pastry shop where I normally got our breakfast was closed so I had to find another place.  I found a small little shop that served crepes filled with Nutella.  The croissant was even better than our normal place.  Ahh you can’t walk five feet in Paris without running into a good bakery.
            After breakfast we walked to Gertrude Stein’s apartment.  We walked down rue St. Michel and crossed the park at rue August Comte and past The College du France.  Outside of the College du France all the students were huddled together in gossip circles with cigarettes hanging loosely from their lips or held tightly in their expressive hands. 
            All the younger kids smoke hand-rolled cigarettes.  I noticed it first when we walked to the Eiffel tower and stopped at a café.  Outside, underneath the waiter who was stringing garlands from the perimeter of the cafe we saw young kids smoking hand-rolled cigarettes.  We saw it again outside the college and various other places in France.  It must be in vogue smoke them but so much worse for the lungs...
            After we visited Gertrude Stein’s apartment we walked to Les Deux Magots café.  Les Deux Magots was the intellectual center of Paris during the 1920’s.  It’s where the literary, artistic and intellectual elites met to eat, drink and chat.  It’s seen the likes of Ernest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald, Pablo Picasso and Jean-Paul Sartre.
            It was surreal to walk in knowing that this is likely the spot where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Sun Also Rises and other early pieces of literature.  The space is wide open with high ceilings and large bay windows that make it much more well lit than I imagined.  Keeping up the tradition people ate traditional Parisian foods and shared bottles of wine and large green salads.  The space is still as noisy and bustling as I’m sure it was in the 1920's but now it was interrupted by more foreign languages and cell phones and the such.  I imagined Ernest huddled in the back corner, laboring over his long hand notes.  For me personally it would not be a good place to write – too much open space and commotion.
            “Pardon.”  I asked the waitress.  “Do you know where Hemingway sat?”
            She arched her head back in thought and raised her hand pensively to her face.  “Yes.  Right where you are sitting.”
            Cool!
            After yogurt and coffee we walked to the Louvre.
            The Louvre.  Wow.  Absolutely massive, colossal, gigantic stupendous, paralyzing…I could keep going with the adjectives.
            You enter the Louvre through a massive glass pyramid in the courtyard of the Louvre Palace.  The museum has over 35,000 objects from pre-history through the 19th century.  I think if the specific art on display interests you (a big if) you probably need to spend several days at the museum.  I’d also recommend a guide since (to Mena and my great frustration) all the exhibits are described in French.
            I appreciate the arts but the items on display at the Louvre weren’t of particular interest to Mena or myself.  We walked through the exhibits pretty quickly.  I couldn’t help but chuckle at all the people observing the works. Some are experts, no doubt, and their vigorous review of the exhibits is warranted.  Others just want to look enraptured – as if each piece enlightens a dark part of their soul and helps solve an existential crisis. Squinted eyes. Hand touching jaw. Pensive stare.  You know…
            We saw the Mona Lisa and that was the biggest attraction for Mena and I.  Just very unreal to see the most famous piece of art in the history of the world ten feet in front of you.  The picture was smaller than you might imagine…
            As we walked through hall after hall resplendent with beautifully carved sculptures I turned to Mena.
            “There are so many statues.  Even if you spent your whole life toiling for recognition and you ended up getting your very own statue to commemorate your life you still end up an afterthought next to the Mona Lisa.”
            She smiled.

            Afterwards we took the subway back to our hotel to avoid the torrential rain.  I wrote and then we headed out for dinner.  We decided to go back to La Cantoche for our last meal in Paris.  It was very symmetrical and fitting that we have our last meal at the place we first ate in Paris.  That and Tal (here name is Tal, not Tara) and Thomas were so kind and sweet to us. 
            I ate raw beef tartare, a salad and pomme frites.  Mena ate fish (I cant recall which type of fish!).  It was excellent.  Probably the best meal I had throughout my stay in Paris.  Mena enjoyed her meal as well.
            Mena and I had a wonderful dinner together and then walked back to the subway to catch some sleep before heading to Iceland...

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