Driving into Paris from the airport Thanksgiving eve, we had spent almost an hour pushing through the traffic when the Eiffel Tower cut through the night straight ahead of us. It was just on the hour, and the tower was lit up, sparkling. I couldn't help it, I started crying. It was just so pretty, and as the most recognizable landmark in France if not the world,
it really struck me that I had arrived in Paris. (I don't need to climb out of a car wreck to realize that I am lucky and grateful to be alive.)
Entrance to the Musée du Louvre, which according to Wikipedia, is the most visited art museum in the world, featuring a collection of some 200, 000 pieces in the historic Louvre Palace. I'd like to know if it's even possible to be in Paris and not visit the Louvre. Well, ok I guess it's possible, but it would be rather silly.
I love the colors in this piece; it's called Pieta by Giovanni Battista di Jacopo.
Winged Victory of Samothrace, a magnificent marble statue believed to date from the 2nd century BC. She stands at the top of this huge staircase, as if all of the movement in the museum were eddying around her.
Another heavy-hitter housed in the Louvre: The Coronation of Napoleon by Jacques-Louis David (1807).
Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, Antonio Canova 1787. I don't know if it was me or the Louvre, but when I got home I realized Psyche and/or Cupid were in about half of all the photographs I took of pieces in this museum.
According to the placard beside the painting: Portrait de Lisa Gherardini, épouse de Francesco del Giocondo, díte Monna Lisa, la Gioconda ou la Joconde. At any one moment hundreds of people can be found crowding into this wing, trying to get a load of this surprisingly little lady without eyebrows.
The Catacombs of Paris (l'Ossuaire Municipal), an underground ossuary in an old stone quarry. This was by far the most unique experience I had while in Paris. You descend a tightly wound spiral staircase 19 meters and find yourself in this fascinating if not unsettling monument to human mortality.
As a result of the unsanitary conditions caused by over flowing cemeteries around the city, the catacombs were first opened in the late 18th century as a bone repository. Later, the Inspector General of Quarries decided to make the ossuary into a bona-fide sepulture by arranging incoming femurs and skulls into artistically organized walls. The relocation of exhumed residents from some ten different cemeteries (most notably Saints Innocents) took several years to complete, and now the remains of some 6 million people rest in this ossuary.
A living man amongst the dead. Above the entrance to the ossuary, a stone inscription warns visitors; Arrete, c'est ici l'empire de la Mort (Stop, this is the empire of Death). Only 200 visitors are allowed in a 2 km stretch of the catacombs at any given time, that and the darkness and gravity of the place tend to lend the atmosphere to hushed whispers or complete silence. The entire experience is both thrilling and thought provoking; every leering skull mouthed a subtle reminder - live well your life, because one day you'll be dead, too.
The Panthéon in Paris; originally a basilica built in honor of the patron saint of Paris (Genevieve), this is now a secular state building where great men and women of France are interred. It was very impressive, but unfortunately when it gets dark they don't light up the murals or sweeping, high ceilings. I got there just as they were closing, and I definitely didn't have enough time to fully appreciate it. I was downstairs in the crypt reading about Victor Hugo when a security guard killed the lights. (I don't know enough about French history to enjoy spending the night locked in the crypt of the national pantheon, so luckily I got out in time.)
First (actually, I think the only) woman interred in the crypt "honored for her own merit"; two time Nobel Laureate Marie Curie is buried here alongside her husband. Breaking down social barriers even after death? What a lady.
A replica of Foucault's pendulum, which was first installed here in 1851 to demonstrate the rotation of the Earth.
For whatever reason I cannot find the name of this church anywhere on my map. Left bank, somewhere close to if not in the Latin Quarter, I walked past it en-route to a (delicious) creperie and stopped to take a picture - it looked so menacing and beautiful at night. As I was walking away, its bells started ringing.
Even though it was freeze-your-tuckus-off cold, I have to say that I loved Paris best of all at night. All the light and darkness just accentuated the beauty of the city. These two photographs were taken off a pedestrian bridge over the Seine. The chain link railing was covered in locks that glinted like scales, just like over the Guadalquivir in Seville, thanks to the contribution of hundreds of couples declaring their love on the bridge
(I wonder if the river bed below this part of the river is host to tons of little keys?)
More walking around Paris at night. Directly above, department stores go all out with the Christmas decor, Galleries Lafayette is particularly famous for it's yuletide window displays - people flock here to see dancing marionette puppets.
I ditched the panoramic bus tour and took off on my own the second day so that I'd have time to see Saint-Chapelle. Pictured above: gargoyles on the roof outside, and the famous upper chapel. Everyone knows to visit Notre Dame (literally blocks away), but I think I was the only one of my comrades to make it here. Honestly, I think it is even more impressive than Notre Dame, and definitely the most magnificent monument I visited while in Paris. The stained glass windows are like nothing you've ever seen - absolutely glorious.
Sainte-Chapelle, now part of the Palace of Justice, was built between 1242 and 1248 to house the relics of the Passion of the Christ, particularly a Crown of Thorns (supposedly worn by Christ during the crucifixion). The Crown of Thorns, purchased by Louis IX from Constantinople in 1239 (for a sum that was significantly greater than the cost of the chapel's construction), earned France the rank of second capital of Christendom in medieval Europe. The Crown of Thorns
now resides in the treasury of Notre Dame, and to my everlasting disappointment it is only on display during the
first Friday of every month.
French Gothic architecture is as a matter of fact a little different from Spain's adopted version, but the style is nevertheless unmistakable. It was really cool to finally see this famous western facade in the flesh. Entrance into the cathedral is free, and I was rather impressed by the functionality of this old lady; in a roped off area in the center of the cathedral, a service was being conducted even as hundreds of tourists poured into and circulated around the church.
I really wanted a candle but I would've felt weird putting money in the offering box and then putting a candle in my purse.
View of the south side from across the Seine.
Construction on this cathedral began in 1163 and wasn't completed until 1345. Get a load of those flying buttresses.
Not that you can really tell, but after getting Togolese food in Montmartre (Le Mono West African restaurant - delicious and original), my friend and I stumbled upon Café des Deux Moulins, the cafe featured in Jean-Pierre Jeunet's 2001 color saturated romantic comedy Amélie. Such tourists - no one else in the whole joint was taking pictures. Just us.
Kind of disappointing - nothing like the cabaret music hall of romantic lore, more like something out of a cheesy amusement park. An eclectic mix of restaurants, bohemian culture, and sex shops, Montmartre neighborhood itself was my favorite neighborhood in Paris. Below: another highlight in this part of town, the top of the hill, looking out over the city from the Basilica of the Sacré Coeur.
Took time out to visit world famous English bookstore, Shakespeare and Co.
take lots of pictures of the cool, artsy-fartsy decor, and buy some much-needed literature in my mother tongue.
The Thinker; bronze and marble sculpture by Auguste Rodin. Normally I prefer paintings or drawings to sculpture, but a trip to Paris; namely Rodin and the Greek neoclassical marble sculpture collection at the Louvre, have made me seriously re-evaluate my preference. While I thoroughly enjoyed the Louvre and D'Orsay, the Musée Rodin is the most peaceful and the most beautiful museum I've ever visited in my life. I'm sad to say my camera was choking up the ghost at this point, but the glorious gardens and elegant, high ceilinged mansion (once a hotel, then the studio of Rodin himself before it was donated to the state upon his death) are positively wonderful.
Above and directly below, Musée d'Orsay in an old train station, known for its amazing collection of Impressionist art. Unfortunately taking pictures was off-limits in the museum, and it was hard to be sneaky about it because there were so many security guards wandering around. I adore modern art, and this museum kindly nursed my infatuation.
Paris for Thanksgiving weekend! So before I get all mushy and nostalgic about my trip, I'd just like to say that my study abroad program, Academic Programs International, rocks my socks. I selected API because it was one of the cheapest programs and (just as importantly) it offered me the most bang for my buck. I've had nothing but a great experience with API; the program advisors here and in the U.S. are wonderfully supportive and well-organized, and the program cost includes two international trips, four Spain trips, volunteer opportunities, group activities and day excursions. Other students I [bragged] to about Paris in my classes were shocked that my program took us to Paris (on top of Seville and Cabo de Gata, not to mention Rome and Cadiz next semester). So, if you're trying to select a study abroad program and you're like most college students (you live in the real world and cost is always a point of debate), select a program that will provide you with the study abroad experience you're looking for at a price tag you can afford. I know how exhausting researching programs can be, but trust me; if you really put the effort in to find the program that fits your needs, the next semester (or two) will be not only rewarding but cost efficient.
Most of what I think I know about Paris is derived from an abridged version of Hugo's Les Miserables, Amélie, and a really wonderful French musical called Notre Dame de Paris. (Oh, and more recently Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris which I'd like to note was playing during my flight to Los Angeles this summer... and on the plane to Miami, and then again in Spanish between Miami and Madrid.) Hemmingway was right when he called this city "a moveable feast" - Paris has a way of stamping itself on your brain. As a wannabe writer dabbling in poetry and art, who is fascinated with the historical concept of bohemianism, Paris fulfilled its niche in my mind as a pinnacle of romance and culture. While it may no longer be the city of its historical, Lost Generation heyday, this city is nonetheless a mecca of art, human history, creativity and life. While I confess the trip itself was exhausting (between monuments, museums and exploring the streets; around 14 hours a day on my feet and maybe 14 hours of sleep divvied between three nights), I came back feeling invigorated, like I need to live more lucidly and compose an opera or write or novel or I don't know, something.
(I think I'll start by learning some more Spanish.)
