3.31.2008

Nocture du Louvre, Fountainbleau § Vaux-le-Vicomte

Whew! What a weekend! I feel like I've been running around non stop since I got out of class on Friday, and for the most part that's the case.

On Friday night, I participated in the Nocturne du Louvre as part of my art class: Great Figures in Art from 1900 - 1920. Most museums in the city offer a "nocturne," which is basically just one night out of the week where admittance is free to anyone under 26; the Louvre's being Friday from 6 to 10. When the "jeunes ont leur parole" ("the youth take the floor," give or take), kids from college art classes pick a painting in the museum, research it, and then spend the evening wearing hideous tshirts and discussing the work, the artist and the painting style with other kids and tourists.



Originally, I thought that participation was necessary as part of my course work, so I feel like I sorta got suckered into the evening, but all said and done it was actually alot of fun if only a little exhausting. I presented La Richesse, a work by 17th century French artist Simon Vouet done in the Baroque Italien style. I was with another American girl from my program, so not completly alone, but she wasn't feeling tops so I mostly did the event on my own. After my first horrible presentation to an art teacher and a group of her students (to which I was incredibly unprepared for their questions - interrogrations! - and fell flat on my face) the evening went swimmingly and in the end I consider it excellent practice for my speaking skills as I spent the majority of the evening using french and only gave the presentation in english once or twice. However, I will not be so stupid as to participate again - no thank you.

Truthfully, I would have bailed after I had found out it was not an obligation, but I really like my art teacher and didn't want to get on her bad side. She's one of those "march to the beat of your own drum" kinds that have crazy wild hair, wear a ton of odd-ball jewelry and a shade of lip stick that is ten times too pink. Art history just oozes out of her pores and she has a funny way of introducing artists by their date of death as opposed to their natural life cycle. This week we're studying Picasso and she is practically giddy as she describes each painting - each class is entertaining, but I've stopped sitting near the front as her excitement creates a surplus of saliva.

On Saturday, my program took a day trip to visit two castles/estates - Fountainbleau and Vaux-le-Vicomte. The first was Fountainbleau, one of the many castles of François the First. The chateau spans many architectural époques, so the facade is a little disconcerting to look at as it's just one big jumble of building styles. Our group organizer took us on an incredibly dry tour of the exterior and for the most part I found the interior lacking in detail and cool furnishing. It did however have a very interesting chapel and some cool exterieur stair cases. I took alot of pictures which I'll attempt to post later, but for the moment you'll have to be satisfied with what I found on google. To be honset, I didn't find it all that impressive, but it was cool to discover that Napoleon attempted to commit suicide here.



The second estate was the Chateux de Vaux-le-Vicomte. I absolutely loved this palace. It was never a royal palace, but was instead built by a bourgeois, Nicolas Fouquet (foo-kay), superintendent of finances for Louis XIV. It is one of the most impressive buildings and grounds I've ever seen that has a striking resemblence to Versailles - and that is because the layout and design of Versaille was stolen from Vaux-le-Vicomte.



The story goes a little like this: After it's building in 1641, Vaux-le-Vicomte was the most impressive palace in the country of France. On August 17, 1661, Fouquet throws a lavish ball and feast to show off his chateau and gardens (and moat!) complete with luminaries and fireworks. He invites Louis XIV, whom I've come to consider a royal prick, who instantly becomes jealous when he realizes that the current royal palace, THE LOUVRE, is drab and unimpressive in comparission. After the party, he has Fouquet thrown in jail under the claim that he funded Vaux-le-Vicomte through the misappropriation of royal money, exiles his wife, and proceedes to steal, borrow and buy paintings, furniture and even the orange trees from the grounds. Then he hires the same architect, painter-decorator and landscape architect to build Versailles. Not kidding, Louis the XIV was a giant baby.



What I liked most about this chateau was it's size; unlike Versailles that is just too big to even consider as an actual residence, Vaux-le-Vicomte is stylish and done in the finest tastes - plus you actually get to see just about every room (I hate the Versaille tour because you really only get to see a fraction of the castle and at that you only see the public rooms of the royal family). The grounds also seem less haughty and severe in comparission to Versailles - clearly Fouquet wasn't trying to prove anything - and we lucked out with the most perfect weather to walk around the grounds and enjoy the sun. The fountains and faux waterfalls are gorgeous.

**Little interesting fact: the "Man in the Iron Mask" was actually kept here as a prisoner for several years, and you can go down into the dungeons to see the little stall that he was sequestered off in - it's next to the servents salon, the kitchen (which we actually got to see!) and the wine cellar.

Sunday I spent recovering from having too much fun on Saturday night. Ain't it just the life? Tomorrow is my day off, so I'm going to take it easy and make the final touches on my spring break plans. Only three more weeks and I'll be soaking up the sun in southern France.

3.25.2008

spit

Since this seems to be a story that is circulating around the diner table (and only because I'm too annoyed with french grammar to do my homework), I thought I would fill in the holes for those that have only heard it through mom: Yes, I got spit on on the métro. Yes, it was disgusting. It was probably my fault.

What is the first piece of advice they always give you when you visit Paris? It's not watch your shit - though that's very true - and it's not "eat where the locals eat." It's "don't ever, EVER, talk to dirty old men on the métro." Good advice.

However, Samantha, after a few glasses of wine, seems to think that her text-book level conversational skills have equiped her with the tools to tell off dirty old drunken bums that stare at her on the métro...sadly, it is just not so.

My friends and I jumped on the last train home, a giggling gaggle of American gals, so naturally we we're going to get some form of attention. I must have been feeling confrontational and overly confident (drunk I think is what they call it...yeah, that's it) and when this bumbling old fool wouldn't stop staring at us, I took it upon myself to challenge his gaze with a very, VERY rude "quoi?"

One little "what" was all it took, and he was stumbling to our neck of the train car, just inches from my face and reeking of booze. Words were exchanged, something to the extent of "I'll look where ever I want EXPLITIVE, EXPLITIVE," I told him to back off, might have accidentaly kicked him in the process, our métro stop came up and just as we're running out of the car he lets loose a puff of air on my cheek that made my entire body shiver with mordification.

More explitives, we exchange the bird, and he shoots off in the train. Lucky for me, he was thouroughly drunk as it would appear that the alcohol in his system absorbed his saliva - it was really only like a shot of air to the face, but still disgusting. I scrubbed for twenty minutes after I got home and my dreams were haunted by memories of his stale breath.

So moral of the story? Don't talk to people on the métro, and it's probably a good idea not to ride it with me after I've had a few. Apparently I think I'm hot shit. Oh - and don't pester the drunken bums - they might not have anything of substance to spit at you, but they still smell like death.

3.24.2008

Sacre Coeur

I have more pictures to post, and I'll attempt those later, but mom was telling me I need to actually WRITE about my trip, so I'm taking a few precious minutes out of my "Pascal le grand frère" viewing time to ramble on and on about how cool my life is (Pascal is some kind of wayward teenager intervention show - kind of like Dr. Phil only more street and less annoying; incredibly entertaining).



As far as parisien places go, Sacre Cœur and Montmartre are my absolute favorites. Sacre Cœur is this incredibly beautiful Catholic church that sits on top of the highest hill in Paris. The entire mound is covered in hand carved steps - none of which are quite like the others - and there are patches of grass and old twisted trees scattered about the lawn that create a charming oasis perched above the city.

A few weeks ago, I went off by myself with a book and soaked up the sun as couples and tourists sprawled out on the spacious lawns. This is one of the best places to see street performers, and that week I wasn't dissapointed. There is usually a guitarist or two playing an eclectic set of Beatles and Bob Marley tunes on the steps before the church, and then are are jugglers, balloon animal guys - you name it somebody is running around trying to get you to give 'em a euro for a song.

Which brings me to my favorite performer of the day - flowers in her hair, Edith Piaf warbling, spandex wearing gypsy. I have no idea what was going through this woman's head, but she was spending her afternoon leaping from step to step, flouncing around and singing at the top of her lungs to couples and tourists alike....wearing what appeared to be a former ice skating leotard. A hot mess, but incredibly fun to watch. At least she had more talent than the couple that was practically making babies directly to my right. I had to watch crazy crooner in order to avoid seeing the art of reproduction in broad day light. I know Paris is the city of love, but seriously? Ugg.

There are also your fair share of con men - my favorite being the guys that wander around with colored pieces of embroidery floss. They walk around with these strings and ask unsuspecting tourists to hold out their fingers. Once you've stood still for more than three seconds, they wrap the string around your finger, braid a quick little bracelet the likes of which I used to make at summer camp, tie it around your wrist and then clamp their hand so hard on your arm you'd think they were going to rip it off!! "5 EURO! 5 EURO," they scream and don't let up until you pay the man. Can't pay? They'll always take your watch or that really nice necklace you've got on instead. Fair trade and a pretty good souvenir - "I got conned at Sacre Coeur."

Aside from THAT, the hill is lovely and the church is really spectacular - blazing white and when the sun hits it, it's nearly blinding. Inside is beautiful and ornate with amazing tile details, but they don't allow any pictures to be taken, which I find I rather like. Being inside Notre Dame with all the ridiculous flashes going off around you tends to take away from the reverence and meaning of the place.

As for shopping, Montmartre is a beautiful area filled with little winding streets and over-priced boutiques that sell all kinds of things from scarfs to tea pots. You can really find some gems out there, and I plan on returning once the weather picks up so that I can meander through all antique shops. The food is good too, and you can find just about anything your tummy asks for: classic french cuisine, chinois, italienne, etc. My friends and I ate at this desolate little Thai place, and the owner brought us extra fried rice and showed us pictures of her childrens' weddings. We spent a good three hours drinking blush wine and pouring over her baby albums.

The area is also right next to Pigalle - the infamous sex district - and le Moulin Rouge. There are all kinds of sex shops, hideous in neon and flashing red lights that read, "live nude girls," and XXX!! It's good for a laugh, but also a really seedy area at night and you can take it for granted that almost any woman (or man) that approaches you for a light is a prostitute trying to feel you out. Don't you just love Paris? As for le Moulin Rouge, it's beautiful from the outside, and I'd love to actually go inside the building, but I'm sure entry costs a small fortune as even the cheapest of dinner shows runs about 90 euro...ugg. I settled for a picture of the facade.

...

Day off classes today (and tomorrow for me), so I'll get some actual homework done and then I'll have tomorrow free to wander through a few vintage shops I saw in the Jewish district last night. I heard they sell actual bagels there and I've found a cheese spread that's as close to Philadephia as I think I'm going to get. Yum.

3.22.2008

pictures!!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I've no time for long winded details, so I'll just post a boat load of pictures and hope that you'll be satisfied for the next couple of days. Il pleut comme une vache qui pisse (it's raining like a pissing cow) today, so I'm scratching my first plans to go to a monster flea market and instead am going to a free gallery to check out the works of Blek le Rat, a french stencile-graffitti artist from the 80s and early 90s.


Me and Nicola at Eurodisney





Oh, sorry this is taking too long. The internet connection moves at about the speed of the little old ladies that shuffle through the MONOPRIX...inch by inch. I don't have the patience and it's dinner time. Will try again later.

3.08.2008

pictures

Okay, so clearly I'm not as good at posting on this thing as I had promised, but I swear it's only because I've been having such an incredible time and I've been ridiculously busy since classes have started. These are only the photos I've taken so far and most of them correspond to the places that I visited in the first week, but tomorrow I'm going to manage my time better and promise to write another long LONG post about what I've been up to since Orientation week.

Stories to look forward to:

1. Visiting Sacre Cœur/Mont Martre/Pigalle

2. Enjoying Paris night life

3. Métro experiences/getting spit on

4. Classes and school activity

5. French boys

6. Traveling and Spring Break plans


Eiffel Tower


encore


Notre Dame


Garden at Petit Trianon


A little of the hamlet at Petit Trianon (I really have too many of these to post, but it was beautiful)


My American friends, Nicola et Luc


View from Le Centre Pompidou


Very cool lights at le Centre Pompidou