My Paris

 

 Right now,  every moment in my life feels monumental. I wrote my last English Literature essay ever last week. I take my last sit down exam ever on May 18, good ridden to blue books. I turn 22 on June 11 (I take donations of cupcakes, preferably red velvet). And finally, I graduate from the University of Edinburgh on June 28, which still seems far away. That's a lot for two months. I'll be an "adult" after, whatever that means. It's a bit daunting, to say the least.  

 

 As exciting as this all is, it's very easy to find myself looking at my planner more than what's around me. This is when I pull up my photos from Paris. I spent my too brief trip trying to take a non-cliche photo of one of the most photogenic cities in the world and the best way I found to accomplish this goal was to search for details: that balcony set up with a cute table I could picture myself eating a baguette on (hey, I didn't say I stopped thinking in cliches), the lamp post that had more personality that whatever it was lighting up, or even just a reflection in a puddle (which what the last photo of this post depicts).

 

  

Paris is an easy city to get overwhelmed in. The winding streets are so picturesque that sometimes you don't even notice you're lost. There's more culture than anyone can absorb in a lifetime there, yet I still tried to pack it into less than week. Delving into the details saved me though. Searching for the beauty in the banal ended up being more interesting than what I saw in museums and gave me something more unique to bring back than just another postcard of a painting.

My goal on every vacation is to not feel like a tourist and finding things myself that locals don't even notice because they see it every day is one of the best ways to do this.  I made my own Paris.

This will be my last Paris post, but I'm planning to extend its theme.

 If I can find the hidden gems in Paris, then I should look for them in Edinburgh too. I'm not someone who pessimistically counts down the days and thinks to herself, "This will be my last latte at Artisan Roast ever." However, Edinburgh really is a city I've made my own and it's worth photographing my Edinburgh before I leave it. So just like I showed you "my Paris," for the next few posts I will show you "my Edinburgh", as well tying up loose ends around the parts of Scotland I still need to see.

 

Yes, They Really Do Wear Berets

Hate to break it to you, but the stereotype of the Parisian wearing a beret does exist. Pictured below in all his cliche-ridden glory:

 

Normally, when I travel I like to debunk stereotypes. After all, if you could learn everything about Europe from visiting Epcot, why would you bother going to real place? For example, despite how my German class last summer led me to believe that Germans couldn't live without bread, when I actually visited Berlin I learned that Germans only start the morning off with rolls if they have visitors to impress. Nevertheless, sometimes stereotypes exist because they're true. Fortunately for Paris, most of the cliches are in their favor. Like Gil Pender proclaims in "Midnight in Paris", Paris really is beautiful in rain. So here I am to verify a few more stereotypes.

The Parisian Waiter: France is a country that prides itself as much on its food as its art, food almost is an art (as demonstrated by the title of Julia Child's famous cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking) and the waiters are the curators of it. They aren't broke college students trying to make an extra buck for beer runs (they work at Starbucks). This isn't a part-time job for them, it's a career and like all careers, there's a craft to it and certain amount of respect demanded from it.  So just like you wouldn't run screaming through an art museum (unless it was performance art), here is one simple rule for how not to irk your Parisian waiter so you can enjoy the delicious slice of chocolate torte above:

1. NEVER seat yourself. In France, the customer is not always right, they're at the bottom of the hierarchy and must defer to the waiter. They know what's best for you. Regardless of how many open tables there are, this is not musical chairs, you must be directed to your seat by your waiter.   My mother and I witnessed an American couple learn this the hard way Cafe de Flore. It was a quiet afternoon at the famous cafe with only old Parisian men reading papers (yup, that cliche is in full force too), so there were plenty of tables to enjoy the legendary chocolat chaud at and this couple sat themselves at one. Unlike my mother and I, who got a table from the waiter and were served within 15 minutes, this couple was ignored for 15 minutes until the husband was so annoyed that he huffed out of the cafe with as much attitude as a Parisian waiter ironically. Where were the waiters? They were giving this couple the silent treatment until they left and then the waiters started laughing and rolling their eyes at each other. See, the waiters do have a sense of humor, except the joke is on the customer if they don't follow the rules.

 

The Luxembourg Gardens is the place to people watch in Paris. The artists sketching, check! The old men playing chess like it's a competitive sport (well, to them it is), check! If you want a relaxing afternoon and some intriguing characters to observe, look no further.

However, even if Parisians wouldn't like to admit it, Paris is a tourist city and sometimes it's fun to mock your fellow travelers. After all, my goal is always to mistaken for a native (not so sure if this was accomplished when some Spanish tourists stopped me to ask if I knew where the Starbucks was. Sorry, it's not like all Americans have a GPS in them that locates the nearest overpriced corporate coffee chain.) So I couldn't help but laugh at this tourist at the Rodin Museum who looked exactly like the bust he was staring at.

 

The birds of Paris exhibit all of the stereotypes of their human counterparts.

 The royals may have been ousted from the Luxembourg Gardens, but this bird has all the attitude of Louis XIV.

 

Like many Parisians, birds enjoy relaxing in parks too. Despite how most statues have spiky crowns to prevent birds from perching (and inevitably pooping) on them (as pictured above), the pigeon below didn't mind risking being impaled.

Like lovers strolling the Seine, these duck paramours were enjoying the view too. However, I'm concerned about their precarious placement. Perhaps they're about to embark on a suicidal leap?

Part of the experience of going to Paris is people watching. I know it's not a good trip if I don't feel like a total slob after seeing so much "je ne sais quoi" Parisian chic around me. It's one stereotype that the Parisians live up to.

Hands by Rodin

The Rodin Museum is a rarity in Paris.

 Instead of wandering in a maze of dimly lit rooms to look at statues cloaked in veneration and dust like at most museums, the main exhibit is outdoors. Most of the museum's statues are kept in a garden that offers more than just a beautiful relaxing walk and a breath of fresh air from the crowded museums, but also gives another layer of interpretation to Rodin's work. These sculptures depict humanity's fundamental emotions and struggles and therefore shouldn't be under protection inside. They need to be exposed to the elements just like we are.
 

However, it's hard to convey the imposing physical presence of seeing "The Thinker" in its full over-sized glory through a photograph. Sculpture is one of the few art forms that really cannot make an impression when searched on Google Images. Nevertheless, to give myself a little project whilst at The Rodin Museum and give you something to appreciate Rodin's talent with, I decided to focus on photographing the hands of his sculptures, impressive in their verisimilitude.

 

 Or this man who had no appendages.

The tourists use their hands for other things...

 

 

Just for its change of scenery,  The Rodin Museum was one of my favorites in Paris. Like Gil Pender (yes, I am going to reference "Midnight in Paris" in every post about this city), I may not have read a 2-volume biography on Rodin either, but I can appreciate the beauty and gravity of his work.

L'art pour l'art

What is art?

This pretentious question gets bandied around college courses as often as a ping pong ball during a game of beer pong. I tend to tune out whenever someone starts distinguishing between "high" and "low" art because it seems like such a pointless discernment, doomed from the beginning. However, I found myself asking that question when in Paris.


With one of the highest concentrations of art museums in the world, it's impossible to go to Paris without taking in a painting or 2,000. Art aficionados that we are, my mother and I went to a museum or two almost every day (except the day when we decided that getting lost in Saint Germain was an art form in itself.) The Centre Pompidou (pictured above), The Musée d'Orsay (pictured below), The Musée de l'Orangerie (which contains Monet's large water lilies and for once I agree with the terrible Inez character in "Midnight in Paris," they are overwhelming to see in person.), and The Rodin Museum (although Carla Bruni wasn't a tour guide, I'm sad to report.) Consequently, the only things I can stare at for any length of time this week are bad Paul Rudd comedies.As much as I appreciated seeing Toulouse-Lautrec's sketch marks at the d'Orsay and art I couldn't even understand at the Pompidou, by the end of the trip I was walking through museums like they were a check-list. Degas's dancers, check! Tourists crowding around Van Gogh, check! I even managed to miss some of the biggest checks like Manet's "Le déjeuner sur l'herbe"- the highlight of the entire d'Orsay for my mother. I was completely missing the point as well. The temperature regulated rooms were regulating how I viewed the experience of seeing art- long lines for tickets, the irony of shoving fellow spectators to see a painting of a tranquil pond, and spending more time reading descriptions than looking at paintings.

A sampling of the Pompidou.

[This actually isn't abstract art, it's a very definable object, I just shot it this way to confuse you. Can anyone guess what this sculpture is in full?]However, the best "art work" is probably the view.

From the Pompidou's balcony, you can start to see some of the city's alternative art. Say hello to the Cheshire Cat.

However, Paris's art scene didn't end with the closure of the brothels, although I'm sure Matisse was sad. It left the squalid studios full of oil paints, misery, and disease and entered the open air. With the sunlight came a slightly cheerier disposition, a sense of irreverence, a bit of cheek. The city's graffiti introduces the humor that is lacking in the museums.
[I love the irony of such an ostentatious mural being a "secret."][This man was found throughout town. I wonder what traffic law it depicts?]
[Translate to, "look at the sky", so I did when it wasn't raining.]

[The expression tromp l'oeil is French so I guess they know what they're doing.]
[Jack Russell Terriers and pigeons are the most evident animals running throughout Paris, but the graffiti artists are turning the boulevards into a jungle.]
[Oddly written in English, but still ominous.]

Parisian artists were harbingers of some of the great artistic movements, and although this legacy must be intimidating for contemporary Parisian artists, they made a movement of their own. There's no audio guide to it, but take a turn down a picturesque alley and you'll find it. Photography is definitely allowed!


Some of the shop signs could even hang in the Pompidou.
There's almost a full zoo running across the awnings of Paris.




Of course, some may argue that a Ladurée pastry is an art form, I'm one of those people. Although, attempting to eat this thing was a fiasco.
Paris is one of those amazing cities that has such an abundance of art that you start to take it for granted. However, the real shame would be to miss the art all around you.