We arrived in downtown Paris just after 1 pm. Following a bit of confusion in the airport, we made our way down the RER to Metro Luxembourg and walked down rue Soufflot to our hotel. Resting on the south side of Place de Pantheon, the hotel was a contrast of urban style with a French countryside feel. The impressive views stretched to Sacre Coeur .
After checking in and changing, we took a circuitous route down through the less touristy neighborhoods in the Latin quarter. The shadows on this building gave it character.
Embarked on a nice, long walk through the Luxembourg Gardens...
past St Sulpice and St Germain-des-pres, across Pont des Arts, through the grounds of the Louvre…
… down rue de Rivoli, back to Pont Neuf...
... down the quai, past Notre Dame, and finally to the Ile de Saint Louis. A glass of the beaujolais noveau at a local brasserie was well deserved. If anything, it felt good to rest our weary legs.
We napped for much of the early evening, then ate a very late dinner at a bistro near place St Michel. Since the internal clock was all screwed up from the travel, we were in this half asleep yet energetic state, so a discotheque seemed like a good call. We walked all the way from St Michel to the Champs area, but only found a few late night bars. We randomly ran into a couple guys from Toulousse and Biarritz, John and Jerome. Seemingly unable to get rid of these guys, we ran into them again about an hour later, so we just went with fate and drank with them for a few hours, which, by the way, ended up being until 5 am. These guys were pretty funny. Their crazy cell phone videos and random stories made the 9 euro Heinekens a bit more tolerable.
Monday was cloudy and rainy. A visit to the colorful and modern Centre Pompidou seemed like a perfect way to combat the dreariness of a gray Parisian landscape. The architecture of that place is super interesting, very open, modern, and flowing, serving a stark (yes, stress the word stark) contrast to the aging structures surrounding it. Some of the more notable works:
- Yves Klein’s exhibit “Corps, Couleur, Immateriel”. Yves once said, “My canvasses are no more than the ashes of my art.” At times, art can also be the ashes of ones thought, but I’m not sure what that really means.
- George Braque’s “Le gueriden, automne” (1911)
- And Juli’s dream… an installation by Claude Leveque, “Valstar Barbie” (2003). An entire room, shaded vibrant pink, complete with a pulsing music emanating from the flowing cloth walls and lit up floor. An enormous pink stiletto as the centerpiece. It was quite an experience of femininity, although maybe it was a femininity completely derived from masculinity. Who knows.
After the Pompidou, Juli was craving some shopping time. But we weren’t in the best area for it, because even though there were tons of shops, it was more touristy and not very authentic. Regardless, she still found some new brown boots that made her look cute and Parisian. Battling the rain, we then found a little pasta and soup shop. Juli had pesto and mushrooms, while I had the tuscan veggie, both with a single serving bottle of wine. Those single serving bottles are a good idea – they should have them over here. Some cute French girls walked in and spoke with lots of tonation and gestures.
Being home now, that’s one thing I miss. The sound of beautiful French girls conversing with each other.
Thankfully, our next stop would only bring more of that as Juli’s friend Val had invited us to dinner. She has a cute little apartment in the lower 16th, right by the Seine. Drinking Manzana, an apple liquor, while nibbling on some olives, we discussed the latest happenings in the girls’ lives, and our trip thus far. After about a half an hour, several of Val’s friends joined us - Sophie, Eham, and Anne. By the way, Eham is purely an phonetic spelling of her name.
My thoughts on the girls...
Valerie: intelligent, political, confident, strong… long, flowing brown hair.
Sophie: thoughtful, dry humor, sophisticated... with memorable, glowing eyes and smile.
Eham: outgoing, friendly, French/Moroccan, genuine.
Anne: feminine, flirty, funny, very open.
The dinner was magnificent and a definite highlight of the trip. Starting off with olives, bread, apple liquor, and introductory conversation, we moved onto salad and a seafood-filled crusty biscuit. The main course was pork with lemon, mustard, and potatoes. Val topped every imaginable and unimaginable expectation with an incredibly rich and dense chocolate cake.
The conversation varied widely among things. We talked about Juli during study abroad, Anne’s latest man who’s name translated into ‘bamboo’, Sophie’s love of skiing in the Alps, Val’s Swedish ‘friend’, Val’s job and law school, US politics and health care system, the concepts behind why people vote certain ways, the revestral mice study (red wine, obesity, and longevity). I brought up my love for Godard's films, some of the French thinkers I enjoy like Foucault, Deleuze, poets such as Apollinaire...
Anne, Eham, and I had a few cigarettes on the balcony and talked about my love of things French. I brought up Fontainebleu and you should have seen Sophie’s eyes light up… It was a beautiful image, one that's permanently imprinted on my memory. She spent some time there under her child and teenage years.
She had endless memories from there, from her youth... my only memory of Fontainbleu is a late-19th century photograph by Gustave Le Gray.
As we taxied past the Eiffel Tower, which was lit up with thousands of white lights, my thoughts wandered.
Politics is the conversation of the people.
Love is the conversation of hearts.
After checking in and changing, we took a circuitous route down through the less touristy neighborhoods in the Latin quarter. The shadows on this building gave it character.
Embarked on a nice, long walk through the Luxembourg Gardens...
past St Sulpice and St Germain-des-pres, across Pont des Arts, through the grounds of the Louvre…
… down rue de Rivoli, back to Pont Neuf...
... down the quai, past Notre Dame, and finally to the Ile de Saint Louis. A glass of the beaujolais noveau at a local brasserie was well deserved. If anything, it felt good to rest our weary legs.
We napped for much of the early evening, then ate a very late dinner at a bistro near place St Michel. Since the internal clock was all screwed up from the travel, we were in this half asleep yet energetic state, so a discotheque seemed like a good call. We walked all the way from St Michel to the Champs area, but only found a few late night bars. We randomly ran into a couple guys from Toulousse and Biarritz, John and Jerome. Seemingly unable to get rid of these guys, we ran into them again about an hour later, so we just went with fate and drank with them for a few hours, which, by the way, ended up being until 5 am. These guys were pretty funny. Their crazy cell phone videos and random stories made the 9 euro Heinekens a bit more tolerable.
Monday was cloudy and rainy. A visit to the colorful and modern Centre Pompidou seemed like a perfect way to combat the dreariness of a gray Parisian landscape. The architecture of that place is super interesting, very open, modern, and flowing, serving a stark (yes, stress the word stark) contrast to the aging structures surrounding it. Some of the more notable works:
- Yves Klein’s exhibit “Corps, Couleur, Immateriel”. Yves once said, “My canvasses are no more than the ashes of my art.” At times, art can also be the ashes of ones thought, but I’m not sure what that really means.
- George Braque’s “Le gueriden, automne” (1911)
- And Juli’s dream… an installation by Claude Leveque, “Valstar Barbie” (2003). An entire room, shaded vibrant pink, complete with a pulsing music emanating from the flowing cloth walls and lit up floor. An enormous pink stiletto as the centerpiece. It was quite an experience of femininity, although maybe it was a femininity completely derived from masculinity. Who knows.
After the Pompidou, Juli was craving some shopping time. But we weren’t in the best area for it, because even though there were tons of shops, it was more touristy and not very authentic. Regardless, she still found some new brown boots that made her look cute and Parisian. Battling the rain, we then found a little pasta and soup shop. Juli had pesto and mushrooms, while I had the tuscan veggie, both with a single serving bottle of wine. Those single serving bottles are a good idea – they should have them over here. Some cute French girls walked in and spoke with lots of tonation and gestures.
Being home now, that’s one thing I miss. The sound of beautiful French girls conversing with each other.
Thankfully, our next stop would only bring more of that as Juli’s friend Val had invited us to dinner. She has a cute little apartment in the lower 16th, right by the Seine. Drinking Manzana, an apple liquor, while nibbling on some olives, we discussed the latest happenings in the girls’ lives, and our trip thus far. After about a half an hour, several of Val’s friends joined us - Sophie, Eham, and Anne. By the way, Eham is purely an phonetic spelling of her name.
My thoughts on the girls...
Valerie: intelligent, political, confident, strong… long, flowing brown hair.
Sophie: thoughtful, dry humor, sophisticated... with memorable, glowing eyes and smile.
Eham: outgoing, friendly, French/Moroccan, genuine.
Anne: feminine, flirty, funny, very open.
The dinner was magnificent and a definite highlight of the trip. Starting off with olives, bread, apple liquor, and introductory conversation, we moved onto salad and a seafood-filled crusty biscuit. The main course was pork with lemon, mustard, and potatoes. Val topped every imaginable and unimaginable expectation with an incredibly rich and dense chocolate cake.
The conversation varied widely among things. We talked about Juli during study abroad, Anne’s latest man who’s name translated into ‘bamboo’, Sophie’s love of skiing in the Alps, Val’s Swedish ‘friend’, Val’s job and law school, US politics and health care system, the concepts behind why people vote certain ways, the revestral mice study (red wine, obesity, and longevity). I brought up my love for Godard's films, some of the French thinkers I enjoy like Foucault, Deleuze, poets such as Apollinaire...
Anne, Eham, and I had a few cigarettes on the balcony and talked about my love of things French. I brought up Fontainebleu and you should have seen Sophie’s eyes light up… It was a beautiful image, one that's permanently imprinted on my memory. She spent some time there under her child and teenage years.
She had endless memories from there, from her youth... my only memory of Fontainbleu is a late-19th century photograph by Gustave Le Gray.
As we taxied past the Eiffel Tower, which was lit up with thousands of white lights, my thoughts wandered.
Politics is the conversation of the people.
Love is the conversation of hearts.
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