Day 23: Birthday

Wednesday was my birthday.  This post is going through a lot of editing; if you'd like a more real version of it let me know.

The morning started off well.  I got a delicious pastry called an Opéra, which was almost as heavenly as the hot chocolate from Angelina's.

Yum yum yum

It was the last day of class, and so we concluded with Amélie, one of my favorite movies.  It was amazing to see it again after having been to most of the places in the film, including the restaurant at which Emily and I ate that first weekend we were here.  It's such a feel-good movie, too.  So I was feeling good.

Then we went to lunch at Pizza Bob's, a very cheap place near the Bastille.  I really wanted a hamburger, but the cook just said "No." when I ordered one, so I got a panini instead.  It was yucky, so I ate a lot of fries.

Yuck yuck yuck

It rained off and on for the whole day.  After lunch we went to the Opéra Garnier, which is the opera house off of which the Phantom of the Opera is based.  Apparently there was no chandelier accident to the extent that the book/musical/movie has, but at one point in its history a chandelier did fall, killing the person sitting in seat 13.  Creepy!

Outdoor view of the opera house

The visit was fairly disappointing; we couldn't really go many places inside because a dress rehearsal for the night's show was going on.  The parts we did get to see were very pretty; I've been spoiled by the architecture here.

Inside the opera house

My favorite part was a giant library we stumbled across.  I felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, my own personal salvation from the afternoon.  And then I looked closer, and realized the library was entirely composed of opera scores, which made me even happier.  I accidentally found the score to Gershwin's Porgy & Bess, which was a real treat.  I looked really hard for Carmen but couldn't find it.  

I want to go to there (again)

In one room of the library there was a display of model sets from openings of famous operas.  There were a few scenes from Tristan and Isolde, which made me really happy.

Model set from Tristan and Isolde

After the opera house we figured we were right nearby the Galeries Lafayette and stopped by.  It's this giant shopping mall filled with designer clothes/bags/perfume/makeup.  Ridiculously expensive, but pretty.

Galerie Lafayette

Much later in the afternoon we saw a movie that will never receive an MPAA rating without extensive editing, Antichrist.  My initial thought after the movie was wanting to throw up and "WHY??" because it was filled with an obscene amount of disturbing content and extremely graphic violence.  The only thing I feel comfortable enough posting here is a fox eating itself.  That's the tamest scene of violence in the movie.  If you want details, ask, but don't eat beforehand.

I wanted to write off the film immediately as horribly vulgar and tasteless, but after been given a few days of reflection, I wouldn't like to do that anymore.  I don't want to merely classify films as "good" or "bad," as I stressed in my last entry, and that's precisely what I did initially with this film.  So although it was incredibly out there and wasn't entertaining per se, the director succeeded in making us think extensively about his work, and I can appreciate that.  I'd like to write more about the film at a later date.

Dinner [elliptical edit there] was at an Italian restaurant, which was alright.  I had lasagna, which ended up not sitting so well.  Then I came home and read nice messages from my friends and family, so that's what counts.

Walking total for the day (why am I so infatuated with this?): 5.8 miles.

Day 22: Film Critic Guest Lecture

In the morning we saw La Heine, a painful portrait of three disadvantaged youth in the rundown suburbs of Paris.  It was tragic and raw, one of the best films we had seen thus far.

Lunch was held in our favorite patisserie that we go to every morning for breakfast.  I tried to get the formule for six euros but was charged eight.  But the woman I usually ask for orange juice is always  really nice to us so I didn't complain about it.

In the afternoon we had a film critic give a guest lecture.  I won't provide her name so I can offer a critique without feeling bad if it were to pop up on Google or something.  She got her start with Variety as a film columnist, which I thought was amazing.  Her lecture was mostly really interesting, and she painted an incredibly attractive picture of Paris as a sanctuary for lovers of the arts to live.  "In France, art matters," she said.  "It's not optional."

Which is not the case in the US, as she kept pointing out.  Arts programs are no longer a staple in schools, an increasing problem as the economy continues to dwindle.  And even while the US is self-sufficient in entertainment and exports (most countries headline American films in their own theaters), art itself is not valued.  Here critics don't explore cinema as a forum for discussion; they broadcast their star ratings and decide what is "good" or "bad." 

I absolutely agree with that statement, and no longer want to do that in my own writing.  Why does a "review" mean that the self-perceived goodness or badness of a film must be preached?  Why can't things be more open-ended, and the cinema heralded as art?

Because Americans (me included) are constantly in consumer mode.  If one doesn't think a film is going to be "good," one generally doesn't want to "waste" his/her time on it.

All these issues were discussed throughout the presentation.  It really undermined my whole perception of reviewing film, and made me sad that we don't appreciate art in the same way the French--and really Europeans--do.

So this first part of the lecture was thought-provoking and extremely worthwhile.  But then came the Q&A.  Aliko asked a question about French national cinema, and I asked a question about jobs as a film critic.  She danced around both questions for a long time, but never answered either.  And so it ended on a disappointing note.

Nonetheless the first part has stuck with me since Tuesday, and I'm glad she addressed those issues.

Walking total for the day: 5.9 miles.

Day 21: General Fail

Another morning, another African film (Life on Earth) I couldn't tell you much about due to exhaustion and lack of sleep (a frustration on which I can only elaborate privately).  Sadness.

After class it was pouring and I was feeling crummy, and decided not to join everyone for lunch due to lack of hunger.

Instead I thought of the wonderful book I've been reading, Hemingway's A Moveable Feast.  It's basically a blueprint of Paris, and every word he writes is just so lovely.

So I was thinking about what to do with myself for the day, and ultimately decided on la Closerie des Lilas, a café which Hemingway frequented when he lived here (I read about it a lot in Feast).  I grabbed my umbrella and braved the rain as I headed to Monoprix to buy batteries for my camera and then to the Montparnasse district to check out the café.  

I got there and it was still absolutely pouring.  But I found the place fairly easily and glanced at the menu before walking in.  Then I did a double take:  26 euros for an appetizer.  So I'm guessing that any place Hemingway frequented that was cheap in his day is now terribly expensive because he once sat there.  It makes sense I guess.  But it was so very sad.

Feeling defeated, I turned around and started walking back toward the metro.  But then I catch a glimpse of an ice cream place to which Monsieur Wyatt told me I should go.  So I walked over, and look at the menu because then I was starving.  And low and behold, two scoops of ice cream was nine euros.  Maybe for my birthday, but not that day.

Ultimately I decided it was a fail of an afternoon and went back to the Cité to buy lunch at the unfortunate cafeteria.  I walked up to the entrance and looked at the clock, which read 2:20.  The cafeteria closes at 2:15.  Fail fail fail fail fail.  No lunch.

For dinner we headed back to the cafeteria, which was open this time.  But the food was not eatable.  The meat had too many bones and too much fat.  No dinner.  Feeling hungry and dejected, I just decided to call it a day as the majority of the group went to Montmartre to see Milk, which I'd already seen before.

Walking total: 4.7 miles.

Day Twenty: Giverny

Once again Emily and I headed to the Gare St Lazare, but this time we were successful in our quest to Monet's house and gardens in Giverny.  We got to the train station an hour and a half early to ensure getting the tickets in time, and spent that time scaring pigeons who were being annoying.

After a fifty minute train ride to Vernon, we took a 20 minute bus ride and finally arrived at our destination in Giverny.  

There's nothing quite like this place - a very pastoral scene with a vast array of beautiful flowers.  

Just one of the hundreds of amazingly beautiful flowers.

We were even able to go inside his house, which was amazing.  

Outdoor view of Monet's house

Unfortunately no photos inside.  Each room had a very bold decorating scheme - one a very bright yellow, one an even brighter blue.

The pond was quite peaceful and almost breathtaking in its beauty.  

The pond

Les nymphéas (water lillies) that Monet was so fond of painting

And at the end of the trip, the gift shop was deadly - I spent way too much money there, but got some cool souvenirs.

Monet's grave outside a nearby church

When we went outside, the rain had started.  The terrible rain that came and went off and on from Sunday to Wednesday.  But we made it back safely, and then went to Angelina's, where the hot chocolate is heaven in a cup.  

There's really no other way to describe it.

Then we came back to the dorm and I did my last binge posting from the previous week on this blog.  Exciting!

Walking total: 6.0 miles.

Day Nineteen: Lunch?

I call this "lunch?" because that was the one thing I did last Saturday.  We walked to a crepe stand fairly close to the Cité, and I got a panini.  Then I was feeling sick and slept a lot, then tried to watch Six Feet Under to no avail.  Whenever I try to watch Megavideo here (using a wireless connection), I watch about two minutes and it says that I've watched 72 minutes and that I have to wait an hour to watch any more.

So here's an observation I made at lunch a few days before - on 6/3 we ate at the Bottleshop again (the restaurant owned by UW alums).  I remember when I first ate there, the second day we were here.  I remember being horrified by the prices of everything and not wanting to go back.  When I returned last week, I looked at the menu and realized that everything was quite cheap in terms of Paris cuisine (menu was 9-11 euros, something like $13-16 dollars).  And that's relativity, sadly.

Also, at the film school a few days previously, I picked up a cinema magazine and read an interview with Eric Cantona, soccer player and star of Looking for Eric (Cannes film festival winner and a movie we saw in Montmartre a few weeks ago).  He gave some advice that I find to be extremely true:

Il faut rester constamment dans la création.

(One must constantly be creating.)

I realized that I am most unhappy when I'm not practicing or creating in some way.

Walking total for the day: 2.6 miles.

Day Eighteen: Food and a "Jazz Club"

In the morning we watched Abouna, an African film that again I couldn't tell you very much about.  Yikes.

For lunch we hit up MacDo once again, this time near the Bastille (which is a few blocks away from ACCENT, where class is held).  In my opinion it was quite delicious.

I love MacDo and I am not ashamed

ICE!!  A commodity very rarely seen here.  I tried to treasure it.

And then we got gelato - the flower styling method seems to be popular here.

In the evening we went to the Latin Quarter in search of a jazz club, something I really wanted to do while here since I'm not legal to in the US.  

Le Caveau des Oubliettes, which heralds its "jazz" performances in the window.

It started off okay -- a trio of a guitarist, a drummer and a keyboardist.  The keyboardist was a bit distracting, in one of his improvisatory choruses of the F blues he held a stationary Bb for 3/4s of the chorus, and insisted on using the same jazz organ patch while the group switched to several genres where jazz organs don't really belong.  With the introduction of the female singer, whose English accent and already nasal tone resembled that of Eartha Kitt, came several English songs I wasn't aware of, one of them "Boy" and a few others I don't remember.  Then there was a song about 'café' in Italian.

But the pivotal moment of the performance for me was definitely the last song we stayed for - "These Boots are Made for Walkin.'"  Quality jazz right there.

Called it a night fairly early and hoped the next day would be better.

Walking total: 4.4 miles.

Day Seventeen: Centre Pompidou

While the morning was spent watching Code Unknown, a film I unfortunately couldn't tell you very much about at all, the afternoon was spent at the Centre Pompidou, Paris's modern art museum.  I will admit that I didn't think I would be at all interested in the museum, as we never studied much modern art in school (surrealism, but that's it), but I managed to have a good time.

I guess I'll start out with the depressing part first to get it out of the way.  They're doing an exhibit called "elles @ pompidou" (dedicated to women artists, who get virtually no credit in the art world...or any other world for that matter, as the exhibit showed me), which was good to see.  And yet, if you have to distinctly create an exhibit dedicated to women because otherwise there's not enough by women artists in the museum...that's not good.

And then at the end of the exhibit, they had this poster in English.  I don't really want to describe it so I'll just post pictures.

And no one actually cares about those months.

This poster put me into an existential crisis for a few days.

But I'll end on an extremely high note, if one can appreciate it.  My absolute favorite moment was this:  we were getting into the surrealist section of the museum, and as the tour guide gave a lecture on a sculpture in the room I thought I heard the violin part of one of my favorite pieces of all time, "Liebestod" from Wagner's Tristan and Isolde.  

The song is the opera's conclusion, and (spoiler alert!) Tristan has just died in Isolde's arms.  The song begins with her denial of his death, a love song describing his physical features.  Even then you can hear the tinges of insanity that are about to explode in Isolde's mind.  And while her song is strangely beautiful and one of the most emotionally affecting in all of Western music, the orchestral accompaniment is the truly powerful element.  The strings first have an ascending, agitating  and chromatic line, crescendoing finally until Isolde goes completely insane and eventually dies of grief.  The piece's climax is one unmatched, and if you haven't ever heard it, please do; it's wonderful and it's heartbreaking and it's insane.  (Can be found here; watch the whole thing for full effect.)

I tell you all this because I did indeed hear the violin part in the museum, and when I turned around I saw an avant garde film of Salvador Dali playing.  Just hearing "Liebestod" and seeing the inital second of his film I was instantly moved.  So the strings are building to this incredible climax, and the film is crosscutting between two lovers and an orchestra playing the piece.  And when the piece finally reaches its climax--the moment in the opera where Isolde is the most heart-wrenchingly insane--the conductor stops conducting, for he has gone insane; he clutches his head and does John Cleese's "silly walk" into the other storyline. 

I love, love, love Dali for this musical connection.  I fortunately started video recording at exactly the right time, so I have it on my computer if anyone's interested.

Walking total:  6.6 miles.