Goethe’s observations on the Laocoon statue were an attempt at establishing recognizable principles that determine true works of art. His ideas help develop the necessary tools to instigate a discourse of art. In the tradition of this democratic method of artistic discourse one can consider Goethe’s theory with a veil of contemporary artistic sensibility. Through the application of this new receptivity, a detailed assessment of Joseph Beuys’ installation “Plight” at the Centre Pompidou demonstrates the modern applicability and usefulness of Goethe’s development of a normative artistic aesthetic.
Joseph Beuys’ “Plight” is neither a traditional sculpture nor a painting on a canvas. Rather, it consists of a large ballroom-style space adorned with thick, bulbous rolls of felt covering its high walls with only a single mercury thermometer to break the uniformity. The floor is wood while a black grand piano sits silently to the right of the entrance. Upon entering the room, the viewer immediately notices the warmth provided by the insulation of the felt covered walls. Secondly, the viewer notices the compression of sound. The room despite its magnitude is completely without an echo. “Plight” is a visual piece that also affects the physicality of the viewer. Despite the lack of existence of such art during Goethe’s time, “Plight” does coincide with some of the required elements of Goethe’s rules.
Goethe begins his theory by declaring that true works of art must make an impression upon us, but cannot necessarily be fully understood nor its essence thoroughly defined. Goethe additionally concludes that an understanding of the different parts in regards to form and effect must be displayed within the work. He assessed that specific qualities must be presented in an isolated manner in order for one to outline a significant mutual relationship between the various elements or characters within the piece.
In “Plight”, Beuys has produced a space that is foreign to us. The materials utilized to create this environment emerge beyond the materialistic familiarity of felt, wood, and the black piano to create a truly distinctive space. The viewer understands how such is created, but up until their entrance into the room had never fathomed such a place. Furthermore, the atmosphere of the piece prevents a verbal and accurate description due to the physical effect it has on the viewer. One must be inside the room to even begin to fully experience the piece. In addition, “Plight” clearly establishes a relationship of opposition between its elements. The viewer enters a large room without a draft or an echo caused by the implementation of the felt. Immediately, the viewer notices this sensation and the opposition it has to what would normally be sensed in a room of this size. The thermometer on the wall is consciously placed to remind the viewer of the warmth experienced in the room while the compression of the sound directly relates to the piano that remains silent. Beuys’ has developed an environment full of that which we do not expect not only visually, but physically as well. “Plight” thoroughly establishes an association within the elements of the piece and the viewer. It ultimately succeeds in making an impression while steeped in ambiguity; essential elements to Goethe’s theory.
However, another necessary element in Goethe’s theory is the idea of grace. Goethe determines grace to be subjected to the rational laws of art such as order and symmetry, repose or motion, opposition and gradation. Goethe further determines that such elements must be organized in a rational and intellectual way. He establishes that something should be developed or chosen by reason and not by whim; foundational ideas of the middle-class sensibility of that time which Goethe helped develop. Goethe further stresses in his observations the importance of the artist to choose the ideal moment so that the viewer may recognize the peak level of action which the piece was meant to represent. By containing an infinite, defining moment, the piece will transcend the materials which construct the piece. Goethe ultimately asserts that this transcendence helps define the beauty of the piece. Finally, this beauty must be a balance between the sensual and the intellectual. Goethe determines that all tragedy, opposition and other elements of the piece must be tempered by the existence of this composed grandeur.
Beuys’ piece contains the necessary elements to Goethe’s idea of grace. The felt on the walls of the installation are uniform and of the same length. The room does not consist of a center; therefore the placing of piano seems arbitrary. However, behind the piano, there exists another portion of the room that the viewer cannot fully see. Since the centerpiece of the installation is the piano, it leads one’s eyes to purposely look beyond the piano and into the other partially unseen section of the room. The piano remains closed and silent. Instead, of displaying the capabilities of the piano in regards to sound, Beuys’ leaves the piano in repose to only to express physical grandness. Thus, the materials and their manner within “Plight” are chosen by reason and purpose; to develop a clear relationship between the materials utilized and the viewer.
However, difficulties immediately arise without the existence of representations of life within the piece. Despite the metaphorical relationship of its elements, “Plight” is without consciousness and thus without emotion. Goethe found magnificent, yet delicate beauty in the everlasting sigh of Laocoon, and his theory is driven off this emotionality. For Goethe, Laocoon transcended the depiction of a fatal moment. Rather, it additionally represented that critical instant of realizing one’s own fate. Such emotional elements help the piece transcend beyond a stone carving and are essential to Goethe’s theory of a true work of art. “Plight” fails to fully coincide with Goethe’s idea of the perfect moment and lacks such transcendent emotionality or implication.
Ultimately, the idea of the “perfect moment” applied to “Plight” can only be determined by the moment when the viewer exists in and is apart of the piece. Unlike in Laocoon, where once the viewer has left, the narrative of the statue still exists forever frozen in the moment, “Plight” fails to recognize such a moment by creating a space, rather than a story. “Plight” remains unrestricted by any passing moment. It is only the viewer who recognizes the passing of time and thus determines when the piece begins and finishes.
The beauty of “Plight” ultimately only lies in its environment which is both obtrusive and yet, engaging. The room is both embracing and womb-like but also sterile and restrictive. The sound of the viewer’s voice is muted, yet absorbed by the room as well. Thus, “Plight” is able to temperate its eccentricity and grandness in scale through its uniformity, and physical effect on the viewer. Such elements coincide with Goethe’s theory, however fail to induce to full emotionality aspects he demanded.
Goethe theory on art is a return to the aesthetics of the past and romanticizes the idea of a flourishing ancient culture. This return to classical aesthetics seeks to find a balance between the sensual and the intellectual within art. Ultimately, Beuys’ piece weighs heavily on the intellectual and thus is not an accurate example of this type of art. “Plight” does not fit entirely into the context which Goethe develops in his Laocoon observations. However, by considering the inclusion of a more contemporary artistic sensibility, Goethe’s guidelines prove still helpful and useful in a critique of a such works of modern art.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Friday, April 06, 2007
Embracing your mid-20's, blogs and America.(not really)
Well this was a Europe blog. However, I dont plan on finding myself in Europe until the winter. (Berlin...anyone? Holla.) In addition, I find myself radomnly coming back to this blog and not knowing what to do with it. Should I just let it remain as it is? Should I...continue to write on it...? I dunno...
Perhaps it is becoming a symptom of beginning to be in ones mid-20's but I suddenly have embraced the idea of a blog. At first I was skeptical. I found it only useful in Europe as an easy way to communicate to everyone I knew. A simple way to freely put out what I am doing...only leave it you to read it. In the end...it worked out. People read what they wanted and many of those who I thought would read every word... didnt read anything.
Fine. Perfect. Done.
What about now though? What do I have to say. Should I utilize a blog? Should I further embrace this seemingly absurd modern life, save a tree and use cyberspace instead of a trusty black moleskin to record my thoughts?
Perhaps...
Anyways...I think it is time to start this shit up again. The extent of my dedication? Who knows. Let me remind you that I am still heavily involved in school.
However, " da space" is becoming more and more unappealing...and this medium of...err..."cyberspace interaction" is becoming seemingly more appropriate. At least when it comes to a blog...
Perhaps it is becoming a symptom of beginning to be in ones mid-20's but I suddenly have embraced the idea of a blog. At first I was skeptical. I found it only useful in Europe as an easy way to communicate to everyone I knew. A simple way to freely put out what I am doing...only leave it you to read it. In the end...it worked out. People read what they wanted and many of those who I thought would read every word... didnt read anything.
Fine. Perfect. Done.
What about now though? What do I have to say. Should I utilize a blog? Should I further embrace this seemingly absurd modern life, save a tree and use cyberspace instead of a trusty black moleskin to record my thoughts?
Perhaps...
Anyways...I think it is time to start this shit up again. The extent of my dedication? Who knows. Let me remind you that I am still heavily involved in school.
However, " da space" is becoming more and more unappealing...and this medium of...err..."cyberspace interaction" is becoming seemingly more appropriate. At least when it comes to a blog...
Friday, September 01, 2006
Final Days(in reflection)
As I begin to write this I find myself sitting on the floor of a run down apartment in San Jose. I have been back in the states for about 2 days now. Since my arrival back, I have been staying with my friend Johnny at his new place. It’s a bit more that fixer-upper. Originally, I thought perhaps it would be a good way to reintegrate myself back in the American culture. However, I am second guessing that. I find San Jose to be nothing more than some sort of weird transitional state of purgatory. This town sits between the ocean and the bay. (Santa Cruz-San Francisco). Its big with wide streets, contains countless apartment complexes, a few towering buildings that make up this odd area of town which is filled with nothing but high end hotels and yuppie-filled business bars. It is wholly and utterly ordinary, unfortunately familiar, and lacks any uniqueness or appeal whatsoever. It feels so typically suburban, anywhere America. If it wasn’t for the occasional yummy Mexican taqueria; I feel I could be in anywhere right now. Indiana, Florida, Colorado…fucking ten minutes down the street. It doesn’t matter. It lacks culture; it lacks history…thus the condition of many places in our country. We are young and big and have a lot of people who like to spread themselves all over this land. It’s not bad, it’s not good, it is just different. And this definitely is not the ideal place to come back to become an American again. Whatever that means anyways.
However, I find myself in the passenger seat of a Honda civic, flying down the freeway with the windows down, my hair slapping against my face and I am having a hell of time keeping my eyes open. Of course, the California sky is completely cloudless and a faded blue and the horizon are stained with a light brown. And as I find myself in this position, I can’t help to find some sort of comfort in it. It is what I grew up on. This experience is like a house to me, its home. The endless chain-link fence interspersed with the 8 foot concrete block walls that line the freeway. The droopy trees and their dusty, dirty leaves that arbitrarily appear to poorly decorate the 10 lanes of asphalt. The self storage buildings and the labyrinths of industrial areas colorfully adorned with sedans, gas stations, green and white signs telling you how many miles until your next exit and of course, the billboards; advertising a friendly reminder of how wonderful alcohol, vacations to Hawaii and low interest rates can be. It was what I was nursed on for the first sixteen years of my life. And as much as I do not particularly enjoy its presence now, I can not help to find some sort of strange familiarity that feels like home. At last, welcome back…?
There is one particular day I go back to as the beginning of the end in Europe. Or perhaps my realization that it was almost over. I had just got out of class and was back at the foyer. Eddie and I sat in his room, making sandwiches out of baguettes, drinking wine, and listening to Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. It was partly overcast, his window was open and a slight breeze came through. Although, we were listening to music, the leisurely French attitude and quietness of the town surrounded us and seemingly invaded our minds. You could just feel it. Maybe that’s why this moment sticks out. Nothing particular was happening, however, it just felt like a perfect example of the sometimes indescribable fundamental difference between Angers, Europe and anywhere I have ever been in the states. I say this with no contempt or negativity towards the states. It’s just different. Upon my return to the States, Johnny asked me if I gained any sort of appreciation for aspects of American culture now that I have been to Europe. Hm. Not really. The beer is cheaper and the Mexican food is better, and yes I am pretty damn proud of being from the West Coast. However, my appreciation hasn’t gained. If anything it has made the difference between the style of life and the general attitude of the people more apparent. I enjoyed it while it lasted. Sitting in Eddie’s room, eating baguette and cheese, drinking wine, letting the rest of the day slowly pass, I realized that in many ways Europe compliments me well, and I was going to miss it.
The last week in Angers was a wild one and I think Europe and I parted well. Each night I went out to a bar and stayed out until at least 1. However, usually it was until 2. In this week, I really got to know the French people that worked in my program and I was speaking French more than I had the whole time I was there. The last day of the program an “International Soiree” was put on by the school. At this soiree, each country was suppose to get together with other people of their country in the program and put on one or a couple of performances that supposedly represented a part of their countries culture. At first, I did not want to really have any part of it. My reasoning for this is that I honestly did not like almost all the other Americans in the program. I can sum up their general attitude with a big loud sigh. “Pfffff” (hang head low…mumble something about missing your boyfriend, Jack in the Box or how weird France is…etc.) On a side note, it really is a bummer that the lamest people in the program were pretty much the Americans. Maybe I was just more aware of their attitudes because I am American. However, the perfect example of their lameness is that they were the only ones who could not put together a performance and almost altogether flaked out. This is where Eddie and I come in. Two days before the performance, one of the monatrices who we were a bit more friends with, came to us asking us to help her because all the Americans had flaked. She was in charge of getting the Americans to put on a performance and was extremely frustrated with their attitudes. So…in two days time, we put together a rousing performance of… “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum”
Classic folk song. Check out the Pete Seeger version.
The performance went over relatively well and was funny compared to some of the other performances which might of…err…represented…their country a little bit…err…more…accurate.?
AHEM.
Nevertheless, the rest of the night was wonderful. And I would cut the story short if I did not say I feel in love with a hand full of people that evening. In my experience, the French seem to sort of throw around this term a lot. Maybe it is just when they are speaking English. But many times, upon speaking to some of French I got to know, they would say how in love they were with something or someone they really liked. In the states, I feel we use this term only on much more serious terms. So taking a cue from them, this night, being the last that I would see most of these people possibly forever, I began to realize how unique some of these people are. A month since my arrival in Angers and three days before I departed, I finally found myself creating true friendships. Conversations finally went elsewhere. Il passé trop! (It goes quickly)It’s those fleeting moments and faces of people that always seem to leave me momentarily changed for a few days. I don’t know how to understand these people and these moments in the context of my life. What was their affect? Where has it left me? What was the point? Those whose faces remain imprinted upon my memory so vividly for a few days afterwards. The intensity when they spoke, their smiles, the laughter, the confusion when language broke down and we found ourselves grabbing for words and descriptions to explain that which up until then had never needed any explanation because it was always understood. It’s all apart of the experience and all apart of what leaves you sort of melancholy the next day when it’s all said and done.
That night, I stood outside a bar and defended myself to a quiet Russian girl named Dasha after she called me a strange American. I stood briefly face to face with French police men who arrived at the bar because of a call from the owner. There were so many people there he couldn’t close the place. I backed away through a thick crowd into the establishment and finished my beer. Walked, ran, piggy backed down the streets of Angers with students and French alike. Danced to James Brown in a small French apartment in the midst of several people and several different languages. Spoke mildly serious with a monatrice named Aline. We concluded our conversation with an agreeing that we both wish we could speak each others languages better. Angelique made me speak like a cowboy-hick in front of everyone because they think it’s hilarious. Champagne. Cigarette smoke. Jumping jacks to keep yourself awake. Ray Charles. Looking out a window at the top of a four story building onto an empty street and noticing the faint horizon briefly becoming illuminated over a quiet town. Hammocks in the living room. Post-modern light bulbs in the hall entrance. Goodbyes to Eddie at 6 in the morning as he left to take a train back to Paris then onto the states. Falling asleep on a floor with your shoes and jeans on. Waking up two hours later with it all over and done, the morning light rudely scratching at your eyelids and running back to the Foyer because we had to move out by 9. It was 8:40 when I arrived.
The next two days I spent in another small apartment with a friend from my program named Markus. He is Austrian and had a big laugh that will scare you when you first hear it. He was spending the next 6 months in Angers and let me stay two night in his place until I finally left to go back home. The next day I found myself drinking coffee in his quirky apartment, church bells ceaselessly rang from the nearby chapel. I felt partially empty and melancholy. Almost everyone was gone now. And in two days time I would be as well. My mother related back to when you perform in theater. You spend a good portion of your life for a couple months in the midst of the same people. 8 hours a day, in and out, and then when the performance has run its course; you must part. It is truly bittersweet. You made great relationships and had wonderful experiences but now you must part. However, that is all as much apart of the experience as well. The goodbye. Everything has a farewell. And afterwards you find yourself questioning if these moments even ever really existed. In the span of a one’s memory it seems to become so brief. Just a shadow, a brief existing human who once sat at the banks of a river, in the presence of a chateau built in 900 AD. To not be stone like its walls. Only to be 22, spend 29 days in its presence and wander around its streets, then disappear. Conclusion unknown. Remnants undefined. Actuality of existence unclear. I sat in Markus’ apartment for two days doing almost nothing. I watched the shadows change on the kitchen table, read, wrote and tried to take in France, Angers, and my whole European experience as much as I could. Breathe it in and hold it in as much as possible. Make it stay.
Au revoir la France
« dimanche
tombe sur moi seulement ici
sans difficulté »
My last day in France, I got an early morning train to Paris. When I arrived it was raining. I had ideas of staying in a park and taking a nap until the time came to hope another train and catch my flight back to London. I sat in a train station for an hour contemplating what I was to do since the precipitation had ruined my loose plan. I texted a new friend who had recently moved to Paris the day before. See if she could take me in briefly; offer me a cup of coffee. Never got a response. So I wandered around the neighborhood for two hours. Cut through Montparnasse cemetery. Half way through looked to my left and noticed I was in front of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simon De Beauvoir grave. I stopped. Let the rain fall. Spend the next 2 hours sitting in a McDonald’s window, writing emails and watching Paris life for the last time on this trip. It was grey and rained the entire time. 4 hours later I was gone. I stepped off a train in London. It was dark. The street lights hung low and seemed to illuminate only a 6 foot orange circle on the sidewalk. The shadows of London were enormous. The brick was overwhelming. Sweeny Todd and Jack the Ripper brushed by me.
London.
Fucking eerie.
A friend rescued me and I spent my last remaining hours in Europe talking to him of literature, the “English literature crisis” of the last 40 years, sex, stereotypes, work, the differences between the states and Europe and various other things. The conversation was wonderful. We drank about 5 cups of tea each until the milk ran out. Then I rested for a couple hours. Wondered back to Heathrow through the thick, fast paced underground of London, and hours later bid ‘Adieu’ to this side of the Atlantic, but definitely not my final goodbye.
Anyone care to join me in 6-9 months time for another rousing trip?
Maybe we can get lost there…
However, I find myself in the passenger seat of a Honda civic, flying down the freeway with the windows down, my hair slapping against my face and I am having a hell of time keeping my eyes open. Of course, the California sky is completely cloudless and a faded blue and the horizon are stained with a light brown. And as I find myself in this position, I can’t help to find some sort of comfort in it. It is what I grew up on. This experience is like a house to me, its home. The endless chain-link fence interspersed with the 8 foot concrete block walls that line the freeway. The droopy trees and their dusty, dirty leaves that arbitrarily appear to poorly decorate the 10 lanes of asphalt. The self storage buildings and the labyrinths of industrial areas colorfully adorned with sedans, gas stations, green and white signs telling you how many miles until your next exit and of course, the billboards; advertising a friendly reminder of how wonderful alcohol, vacations to Hawaii and low interest rates can be. It was what I was nursed on for the first sixteen years of my life. And as much as I do not particularly enjoy its presence now, I can not help to find some sort of strange familiarity that feels like home. At last, welcome back…?
There is one particular day I go back to as the beginning of the end in Europe. Or perhaps my realization that it was almost over. I had just got out of class and was back at the foyer. Eddie and I sat in his room, making sandwiches out of baguettes, drinking wine, and listening to Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. It was partly overcast, his window was open and a slight breeze came through. Although, we were listening to music, the leisurely French attitude and quietness of the town surrounded us and seemingly invaded our minds. You could just feel it. Maybe that’s why this moment sticks out. Nothing particular was happening, however, it just felt like a perfect example of the sometimes indescribable fundamental difference between Angers, Europe and anywhere I have ever been in the states. I say this with no contempt or negativity towards the states. It’s just different. Upon my return to the States, Johnny asked me if I gained any sort of appreciation for aspects of American culture now that I have been to Europe. Hm. Not really. The beer is cheaper and the Mexican food is better, and yes I am pretty damn proud of being from the West Coast. However, my appreciation hasn’t gained. If anything it has made the difference between the style of life and the general attitude of the people more apparent. I enjoyed it while it lasted. Sitting in Eddie’s room, eating baguette and cheese, drinking wine, letting the rest of the day slowly pass, I realized that in many ways Europe compliments me well, and I was going to miss it.
The last week in Angers was a wild one and I think Europe and I parted well. Each night I went out to a bar and stayed out until at least 1. However, usually it was until 2. In this week, I really got to know the French people that worked in my program and I was speaking French more than I had the whole time I was there. The last day of the program an “International Soiree” was put on by the school. At this soiree, each country was suppose to get together with other people of their country in the program and put on one or a couple of performances that supposedly represented a part of their countries culture. At first, I did not want to really have any part of it. My reasoning for this is that I honestly did not like almost all the other Americans in the program. I can sum up their general attitude with a big loud sigh. “Pfffff” (hang head low…mumble something about missing your boyfriend, Jack in the Box or how weird France is…etc.) On a side note, it really is a bummer that the lamest people in the program were pretty much the Americans. Maybe I was just more aware of their attitudes because I am American. However, the perfect example of their lameness is that they were the only ones who could not put together a performance and almost altogether flaked out. This is where Eddie and I come in. Two days before the performance, one of the monatrices who we were a bit more friends with, came to us asking us to help her because all the Americans had flaked. She was in charge of getting the Americans to put on a performance and was extremely frustrated with their attitudes. So…in two days time, we put together a rousing performance of… “Hallelujah, I’m a Bum”
Classic folk song. Check out the Pete Seeger version.
The performance went over relatively well and was funny compared to some of the other performances which might of…err…represented…their country a little bit…err…more…accurate.?
AHEM.
Nevertheless, the rest of the night was wonderful. And I would cut the story short if I did not say I feel in love with a hand full of people that evening. In my experience, the French seem to sort of throw around this term a lot. Maybe it is just when they are speaking English. But many times, upon speaking to some of French I got to know, they would say how in love they were with something or someone they really liked. In the states, I feel we use this term only on much more serious terms. So taking a cue from them, this night, being the last that I would see most of these people possibly forever, I began to realize how unique some of these people are. A month since my arrival in Angers and three days before I departed, I finally found myself creating true friendships. Conversations finally went elsewhere. Il passé trop! (It goes quickly)It’s those fleeting moments and faces of people that always seem to leave me momentarily changed for a few days. I don’t know how to understand these people and these moments in the context of my life. What was their affect? Where has it left me? What was the point? Those whose faces remain imprinted upon my memory so vividly for a few days afterwards. The intensity when they spoke, their smiles, the laughter, the confusion when language broke down and we found ourselves grabbing for words and descriptions to explain that which up until then had never needed any explanation because it was always understood. It’s all apart of the experience and all apart of what leaves you sort of melancholy the next day when it’s all said and done.
That night, I stood outside a bar and defended myself to a quiet Russian girl named Dasha after she called me a strange American. I stood briefly face to face with French police men who arrived at the bar because of a call from the owner. There were so many people there he couldn’t close the place. I backed away through a thick crowd into the establishment and finished my beer. Walked, ran, piggy backed down the streets of Angers with students and French alike. Danced to James Brown in a small French apartment in the midst of several people and several different languages. Spoke mildly serious with a monatrice named Aline. We concluded our conversation with an agreeing that we both wish we could speak each others languages better. Angelique made me speak like a cowboy-hick in front of everyone because they think it’s hilarious. Champagne. Cigarette smoke. Jumping jacks to keep yourself awake. Ray Charles. Looking out a window at the top of a four story building onto an empty street and noticing the faint horizon briefly becoming illuminated over a quiet town. Hammocks in the living room. Post-modern light bulbs in the hall entrance. Goodbyes to Eddie at 6 in the morning as he left to take a train back to Paris then onto the states. Falling asleep on a floor with your shoes and jeans on. Waking up two hours later with it all over and done, the morning light rudely scratching at your eyelids and running back to the Foyer because we had to move out by 9. It was 8:40 when I arrived.
The next two days I spent in another small apartment with a friend from my program named Markus. He is Austrian and had a big laugh that will scare you when you first hear it. He was spending the next 6 months in Angers and let me stay two night in his place until I finally left to go back home. The next day I found myself drinking coffee in his quirky apartment, church bells ceaselessly rang from the nearby chapel. I felt partially empty and melancholy. Almost everyone was gone now. And in two days time I would be as well. My mother related back to when you perform in theater. You spend a good portion of your life for a couple months in the midst of the same people. 8 hours a day, in and out, and then when the performance has run its course; you must part. It is truly bittersweet. You made great relationships and had wonderful experiences but now you must part. However, that is all as much apart of the experience as well. The goodbye. Everything has a farewell. And afterwards you find yourself questioning if these moments even ever really existed. In the span of a one’s memory it seems to become so brief. Just a shadow, a brief existing human who once sat at the banks of a river, in the presence of a chateau built in 900 AD. To not be stone like its walls. Only to be 22, spend 29 days in its presence and wander around its streets, then disappear. Conclusion unknown. Remnants undefined. Actuality of existence unclear. I sat in Markus’ apartment for two days doing almost nothing. I watched the shadows change on the kitchen table, read, wrote and tried to take in France, Angers, and my whole European experience as much as I could. Breathe it in and hold it in as much as possible. Make it stay.
Au revoir la France
« dimanche
tombe sur moi seulement ici
sans difficulté »
My last day in France, I got an early morning train to Paris. When I arrived it was raining. I had ideas of staying in a park and taking a nap until the time came to hope another train and catch my flight back to London. I sat in a train station for an hour contemplating what I was to do since the precipitation had ruined my loose plan. I texted a new friend who had recently moved to Paris the day before. See if she could take me in briefly; offer me a cup of coffee. Never got a response. So I wandered around the neighborhood for two hours. Cut through Montparnasse cemetery. Half way through looked to my left and noticed I was in front of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simon De Beauvoir grave. I stopped. Let the rain fall. Spend the next 2 hours sitting in a McDonald’s window, writing emails and watching Paris life for the last time on this trip. It was grey and rained the entire time. 4 hours later I was gone. I stepped off a train in London. It was dark. The street lights hung low and seemed to illuminate only a 6 foot orange circle on the sidewalk. The shadows of London were enormous. The brick was overwhelming. Sweeny Todd and Jack the Ripper brushed by me.
London.
Fucking eerie.
A friend rescued me and I spent my last remaining hours in Europe talking to him of literature, the “English literature crisis” of the last 40 years, sex, stereotypes, work, the differences between the states and Europe and various other things. The conversation was wonderful. We drank about 5 cups of tea each until the milk ran out. Then I rested for a couple hours. Wondered back to Heathrow through the thick, fast paced underground of London, and hours later bid ‘Adieu’ to this side of the Atlantic, but definitely not my final goodbye.
Anyone care to join me in 6-9 months time for another rousing trip?
Maybe we can get lost there…
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Sunday
Sunday is Angers is quiet. In general, it is a quiet town. Most of the streets you walk down are almost completely vacant. To further extend this feeling of emptiness, most of the shops in town are closed for the month. This is a normal occurrence in France. Supposedly there are 200,000 people in this town but it feels like 1000. Sundays it feels more like 100. Being that I am in a very catholic country, Sunday is the day of rest here. There is no question about it. A few of the Tabacs are open and maybe a couple restaurants and cafés, but for the most part the only thing open is Church.
Today, I went and did my laundry. I sat in the Laundromat for most of the time alone. A few people every now and then walked by. Afterwards, on the walk home, I could not help but notice how quiet everything was. I could hear the occasional car from a distance, but mostly all I could hear were a few birds, the wind rustling the leaves in the trees, the wind blowing past my ears, my breath and my footsteps. It is such a contrast to the rest of my time spent here Europe. It is nice but it makes the days long. It reminds me of when I was younger living in Orange County. On the weekends at my mom’s I use to just watch the days slowly fade. The endless blue sky, the sound of planes overhead, the occasional car cutting through our street, water sprinklers, front lawn grass between my toes after running across the hot concrete, the shadows that slowly began to take shape inside the house, and the lights of the house that we seem to procrastinate switching on until it was completely necessary. I haven’t been in the midst of such a quiet environment nor felt so quietly calm inside for such a long time. To a certain extent, it is really nice. I think the last time I was able to lazily watch the weekend pass on a regular basis was sometime when I was 16! At least it feels that way. On the other hand, the slow day allows the mind to wander and I find myself missing people the most on Sundays. It’s good though. It’s good to experience this. However, when I think about my journey back home it seems so long. I feel so far away sometimes.
My weeks in Angers are not so lazy. Rather they are the opposite. I get up everyday around 7 in the morning; I am usually out of the Foyer by 8 ish. I stop by this Boulangerie(sort of like a bakery) on the way to school. The lady usually greets me with a big smile and a “Bonjour”. I order my usual(pain au chocolat and un grand café ). I sit facing the window while consuming my food. It faces a busy intersection and I enjoy the 15 minutes I spend there alone, watching the French workday begin. Bikes, buses, mopeds, and roundabouts. I spend the next 8 hours at school. I get the occasional 5 minute break from class and an hour break to consume the cafeteria food which doesn’t need to be mentioned again. I go home, do my homework, maybe go hang out with some people for an hour or two and I am usually in bed by midnight. Ready to do it all over again. My classes are enjoyable but hard and long. My language professor really likes me but also makes fun of me almost every class. I don’t know why. I take it as good thing.
I believe Angers is a pretty normal French town. Its sort of weird, life is slow, and everything except for the bars seems to shut down by sundown. In all honesty, the best part of Angers is the weather. I know that sounds silly but it is true. The morning grey usually doesn’t burn off until about noon and for the rest of the day it is warm with a cool breeze. It is like this almost every day and I love it. The other aspect of Angers that is cool is the Chateau in the middle of town. When you’re walking home from a bar or sitting by the river with some friends you see it. Every time I cant help to think how old it is. There it is, built from stones placed there by men over 1000 years ago, which you can go up to and touch. Life goes on. It remains. Sort of a trip…
Yesterday evening I played soccer again with the Polish kids. We went someplace new to play. It was surrounded by fields and remnants of construction which had halted for the weekend. Everything around us was flat. I have never been to the Midwest but I can imagine that it was similar. I could see the sky forever, and as the game went on the grey clouds in the distance eventually covered us. Once again it was quiet all around except for sounds of the game.
Today, I went and did my laundry. I sat in the Laundromat for most of the time alone. A few people every now and then walked by. Afterwards, on the walk home, I could not help but notice how quiet everything was. I could hear the occasional car from a distance, but mostly all I could hear were a few birds, the wind rustling the leaves in the trees, the wind blowing past my ears, my breath and my footsteps. It is such a contrast to the rest of my time spent here Europe. It is nice but it makes the days long. It reminds me of when I was younger living in Orange County. On the weekends at my mom’s I use to just watch the days slowly fade. The endless blue sky, the sound of planes overhead, the occasional car cutting through our street, water sprinklers, front lawn grass between my toes after running across the hot concrete, the shadows that slowly began to take shape inside the house, and the lights of the house that we seem to procrastinate switching on until it was completely necessary. I haven’t been in the midst of such a quiet environment nor felt so quietly calm inside for such a long time. To a certain extent, it is really nice. I think the last time I was able to lazily watch the weekend pass on a regular basis was sometime when I was 16! At least it feels that way. On the other hand, the slow day allows the mind to wander and I find myself missing people the most on Sundays. It’s good though. It’s good to experience this. However, when I think about my journey back home it seems so long. I feel so far away sometimes.
My weeks in Angers are not so lazy. Rather they are the opposite. I get up everyday around 7 in the morning; I am usually out of the Foyer by 8 ish. I stop by this Boulangerie(sort of like a bakery) on the way to school. The lady usually greets me with a big smile and a “Bonjour”. I order my usual(pain au chocolat and un grand café ). I sit facing the window while consuming my food. It faces a busy intersection and I enjoy the 15 minutes I spend there alone, watching the French workday begin. Bikes, buses, mopeds, and roundabouts. I spend the next 8 hours at school. I get the occasional 5 minute break from class and an hour break to consume the cafeteria food which doesn’t need to be mentioned again. I go home, do my homework, maybe go hang out with some people for an hour or two and I am usually in bed by midnight. Ready to do it all over again. My classes are enjoyable but hard and long. My language professor really likes me but also makes fun of me almost every class. I don’t know why. I take it as good thing.
I believe Angers is a pretty normal French town. Its sort of weird, life is slow, and everything except for the bars seems to shut down by sundown. In all honesty, the best part of Angers is the weather. I know that sounds silly but it is true. The morning grey usually doesn’t burn off until about noon and for the rest of the day it is warm with a cool breeze. It is like this almost every day and I love it. The other aspect of Angers that is cool is the Chateau in the middle of town. When you’re walking home from a bar or sitting by the river with some friends you see it. Every time I cant help to think how old it is. There it is, built from stones placed there by men over 1000 years ago, which you can go up to and touch. Life goes on. It remains. Sort of a trip…
Yesterday evening I played soccer again with the Polish kids. We went someplace new to play. It was surrounded by fields and remnants of construction which had halted for the weekend. Everything around us was flat. I have never been to the Midwest but I can imagine that it was similar. I could see the sky forever, and as the game went on the grey clouds in the distance eventually covered us. Once again it was quiet all around except for sounds of the game.
Friday, August 11, 2006
quickie
lots of studying and the occasional pick up game of soccer
the polskis are quickly finding out i am one hell of a goalie....for an american
check out this link....click the photo...
http://www.angers.maville.com/actu/Detail.asp?idDOC=322398&idCLA=18
the polskis are quickly finding out i am one hell of a goalie....for an american
check out this link....click the photo...
http://www.angers.maville.com/actu/Detail.asp?idDOC=322398&idCLA=18
Saturday, August 05, 2006
yo....photo...yo
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Top to Bottom: "How to Survive in Paris: Apples and Wine"/Rad Egyptian stuff at The Lourve/Indian Woman outside my Hostel in Paris/5 Euro Mary/I.M. Pei's pyramid at night outside of Lourve/ Me keeping in hella west coast in Angers...
Angers...week one...
Classes started yesterday. Life is pretty much based around school. If I am not in class then I am eating at the cafeteria or picking up wireless in the rec hall. And since I mentioned the cafeteria. Let me digress a bit. So when you go to the cafeteria you have to site shoulder to shoulder at these long dining tables. They are probably suppose to fit 30...they make it fit 50. I imagine its a lot like prison. OH....but the prison analogy doesnt stop there! Guess who makes our food? Sedeco! Oh wait...they are the same company that actually supplies prison food to the majority of prisons in the United States. Oh but wait...it doesnt stop there. Every meal has at least three different types of meat in it. Even for a meat eater I can imagine this is to be a bit much. Unfortunately, for me...its hell. I ask for a vegetarian plate and they usually give me some yummy treat. For example, yesterday they have been hard boiled eggs covered in tomato sauce and melted cheese. With a delicious side of spinach that probably rivaled that of Stoffers frozen spinach "block". Anyone remember these? My LORD. OH...and there is more! I have been here for a week and everyday we get soggy sliced cucumbers and shredded carrots covered in some sort of thick white cold salty sauce. But dont let me forget....the iceberg lettuce with melted butter on it. yummy!
Nevertheless, i eat there a majority of the time because it is free.
sigh.
Yesterday, after classes I went and played football(soccer) with a bunch of crazy looking polish kids and a handful of random kids from all over the world. Needless to say, the polish kids kicked our butt. However, I couldnt help but think how cool it was the play a pick up game of soccer in Europe with a bunch of international kids. There must of been at least 10 languages on the field.
Last night, I hung out with two Irish kids named Tommy and Tom. Yep....no joke. These kids are only 17 but have been around the world and have more stories than most 40 year olds. They are fun to hang around...just make sure you leave before they bring out the Jameson. ;)
We hung out by the river that runs through town with some Spaniards, Ecuadorians and some Germans. All in all a good time...weather is here is amazing...mid 70s all day...and all night...
Tired. Hella French stuffed into my head so when I talk I find myself forgetting english words...
slept till 11 today. So nice...havent done that since...hmm....at least since Prague.
Nevertheless, i eat there a majority of the time because it is free.
sigh.
Yesterday, after classes I went and played football(soccer) with a bunch of crazy looking polish kids and a handful of random kids from all over the world. Needless to say, the polish kids kicked our butt. However, I couldnt help but think how cool it was the play a pick up game of soccer in Europe with a bunch of international kids. There must of been at least 10 languages on the field.
Last night, I hung out with two Irish kids named Tommy and Tom. Yep....no joke. These kids are only 17 but have been around the world and have more stories than most 40 year olds. They are fun to hang around...just make sure you leave before they bring out the Jameson. ;)
We hung out by the river that runs through town with some Spaniards, Ecuadorians and some Germans. All in all a good time...weather is here is amazing...mid 70s all day...and all night...
Tired. Hella French stuffed into my head so when I talk I find myself forgetting english words...
slept till 11 today. So nice...havent done that since...hmm....at least since Prague.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
parisian photos
yo....i am in angers now...its been raining...i live next to a convent and i go to a catholic university. I also live 5 minutes away from a chateau built in the 1100's. Whoa...
Paris:
Monday, July 31, 2006
last few impressions of paris
hung out with german art students...drank wine by the seine.
kunst!
the forlorn faces of th french people while riding on the underground...
eating chinese food in the pere lachaise...
getting caught in a rain storm...
listening to hip hop at a bar whos bartender was from los angeles...
sitting with a group of south americans outside my hostel tll 2 in the morning...
teaching every one i meet the meaning of hella...
kunst!
the forlorn faces of th french people while riding on the underground...
eating chinese food in the pere lachaise...
getting caught in a rain storm...
listening to hip hop at a bar whos bartender was from los angeles...
sitting with a group of south americans outside my hostel tll 2 in the morning...
teaching every one i meet the meaning of hella...
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Down and Out in Paris
The last few days have been a whirlwind. I suddenly met lots of kids and found myself (once again) walking all over this town. Since I last wrote, I have played Frisbee in the rain while lightning struck all over Paris, gotten free beer for two nights in a row at a bar, had a intense conversation with an Indian sitar player who blessed me, drank beer with Italians who hated soccer and loved metal, met hella kids from SF who knew kids I knew, hung out in a park on the outskirts of Paris that is notorious for the male prostitutes that run around it at night, miss my train to Nice, and watched all kinds of drama go down. And after all that here I am; alone again in Paris. I am right back there again. I have two more days here and then I am off to Angers to study intensively for a whole month, 5 hours a week including Saturday and Sunday. Needless to say this blog will suddenly by next week, get really boring.
Right now I am exhausted. I haven’t slept longer than 4 hours in one night for the last 6 days. And the irony out of all of this is that it’s a Saturday. God, I wish it wasn’t a Saturday.
A few days ago I met some Canadians and a French girl outside my hostel late at night. Since, a lot of the people that stay here are my age and don’t seem to have a lot of money, the sidewalk outside the front of the hostel seems to become a favorite hangout spot to drink beer and talk. Here I met them and proceeded to hangout with them for the next day and half. They were younger than me but seemed like okay kids. In all honesty, I don’t really have very much exciting things to say about these kids. They were nice to keep company with after spending 4 days practically not talking, but in the end they turned out to be sort of overdramatic and I had to split hanging out with them. In these two nights Paris stormed heavily at night. Lightning, thunder etc. I had taken up a friendship with the bartenders across the street and found myself playing Frisbee out in the street at night with them two nights in a row. This resulted in pissed off French people and the Frisbee hitting cars regularly. In the end, we could not get a single French person to play Frisbee with us. Lame. Nevertheless, finding myself in a downtown street getting drenched, playing Frisbee as lightning visibly struck down behind us was almost surreal.
The next night I met some kids from SF. They knew my roommate, Jordan, and we all hit it off immediately. It was nice to relax the speech and let the slang flow. Being in Europe, you have to speak English extremely slow and simple if you do not know the other persons language. And while with the Canadians this wasn’t so much of a problem, it still was noticeable how much I had simplified and slowed down my speech upon talking to the SF kids. We proceeded to drink bottles of wine and talk about SF. During this conversation, two Europeans guys came up and tried to hit on the two SF girls. They came rolling up in their white pants, sleeveless spandex shirts, and gelled hair…one of them took out a mini radio from out of their pocket and it was playing techno. I only mention this because this is an extremely European experience. The super silly looking suave French guys…hitting on the American girls…and pulling tricks like pulling out a mini radio out of their pockets…its things like that which make you sort of appreciate a town like Portland or San Francisco. Furthermore, it sort of makes you appreciate the fact that you’re not European. Nevertheless, we got those guys out of conversation quickly. This same night also consisted of French guy wanting to kick my ass. He butted into our conversation(this happens all the time with French guys)….I was talking to him and in the course of my sentence said, “fuck” and he thought I was cursing at him. He got super hot headed and preceded to threaten me with amazing accentuated English comebacks such as, “Fock yurs mutter”. After me and one of the SF kids explained to him in French that it was an expression we use and not so much a verbal attack on him…he calmed down and split. Thank God.
See, this is Paris so far. I have had lots of fun and met cool kids and done cool things. But a majority of Paris consist of expensive food and beer, stupid hotheaded French males, rollerbladers and tons of French people in the act of doing nothing and being really boring individuals.
The next night I hung out with the SF kids and drank wine with other SF kids and some French people, in a park in front of La Sorbonne.(sp?) At one moment in the night, this dude from SF who has been living here every summer for the last 3 years said that living in Paris is a constant reminder of how awesome SF is and makes you appreciate it even more.
You know what?
Word.
Same goes for Portland.
It’s like this love-hate relationship. Wine in cheap but nothing else is. I found myself eating a sandwich across from Baudelaire’s grave in the same cemetery that Sartre is buried. I have stayed out all night with cool kids and good conversations. But is this Paris? Or is this the Paris that I and these kids create that we are here. Wherever you are, it’s what you make of it. However, the environment and the price it cost play a major factor.
In the end, I am drained. I will definitely look back on the photos I have taken, the blog I have written and various writings in my journal with a fond affections and I will leave here with many memories. However, the distribution of the good times with the times where you find yourself exhausted and just appreciating where your from are pretty even. Nevertheless, I will always want to come back here. I meet all these kids who come here every summer or have parents who are French and so they live here at various times of year. You cannot help to sort of envy these kids. You have to leave to appreciate where your from. I definitely wouldn’t mind spending a month in Paris every year even if it was just to act as a constant reminder. In conclusion, Paris was awesome and horrible all the same. I can’t help to think that any great city should be anything less.
Right now I am exhausted. I haven’t slept longer than 4 hours in one night for the last 6 days. And the irony out of all of this is that it’s a Saturday. God, I wish it wasn’t a Saturday.
A few days ago I met some Canadians and a French girl outside my hostel late at night. Since, a lot of the people that stay here are my age and don’t seem to have a lot of money, the sidewalk outside the front of the hostel seems to become a favorite hangout spot to drink beer and talk. Here I met them and proceeded to hangout with them for the next day and half. They were younger than me but seemed like okay kids. In all honesty, I don’t really have very much exciting things to say about these kids. They were nice to keep company with after spending 4 days practically not talking, but in the end they turned out to be sort of overdramatic and I had to split hanging out with them. In these two nights Paris stormed heavily at night. Lightning, thunder etc. I had taken up a friendship with the bartenders across the street and found myself playing Frisbee out in the street at night with them two nights in a row. This resulted in pissed off French people and the Frisbee hitting cars regularly. In the end, we could not get a single French person to play Frisbee with us. Lame. Nevertheless, finding myself in a downtown street getting drenched, playing Frisbee as lightning visibly struck down behind us was almost surreal.
The next night I met some kids from SF. They knew my roommate, Jordan, and we all hit it off immediately. It was nice to relax the speech and let the slang flow. Being in Europe, you have to speak English extremely slow and simple if you do not know the other persons language. And while with the Canadians this wasn’t so much of a problem, it still was noticeable how much I had simplified and slowed down my speech upon talking to the SF kids. We proceeded to drink bottles of wine and talk about SF. During this conversation, two Europeans guys came up and tried to hit on the two SF girls. They came rolling up in their white pants, sleeveless spandex shirts, and gelled hair…one of them took out a mini radio from out of their pocket and it was playing techno. I only mention this because this is an extremely European experience. The super silly looking suave French guys…hitting on the American girls…and pulling tricks like pulling out a mini radio out of their pockets…its things like that which make you sort of appreciate a town like Portland or San Francisco. Furthermore, it sort of makes you appreciate the fact that you’re not European. Nevertheless, we got those guys out of conversation quickly. This same night also consisted of French guy wanting to kick my ass. He butted into our conversation(this happens all the time with French guys)….I was talking to him and in the course of my sentence said, “fuck” and he thought I was cursing at him. He got super hot headed and preceded to threaten me with amazing accentuated English comebacks such as, “Fock yurs mutter”. After me and one of the SF kids explained to him in French that it was an expression we use and not so much a verbal attack on him…he calmed down and split. Thank God.
See, this is Paris so far. I have had lots of fun and met cool kids and done cool things. But a majority of Paris consist of expensive food and beer, stupid hotheaded French males, rollerbladers and tons of French people in the act of doing nothing and being really boring individuals.
The next night I hung out with the SF kids and drank wine with other SF kids and some French people, in a park in front of La Sorbonne.(sp?) At one moment in the night, this dude from SF who has been living here every summer for the last 3 years said that living in Paris is a constant reminder of how awesome SF is and makes you appreciate it even more.
You know what?
Word.
Same goes for Portland.
It’s like this love-hate relationship. Wine in cheap but nothing else is. I found myself eating a sandwich across from Baudelaire’s grave in the same cemetery that Sartre is buried. I have stayed out all night with cool kids and good conversations. But is this Paris? Or is this the Paris that I and these kids create that we are here. Wherever you are, it’s what you make of it. However, the environment and the price it cost play a major factor.
In the end, I am drained. I will definitely look back on the photos I have taken, the blog I have written and various writings in my journal with a fond affections and I will leave here with many memories. However, the distribution of the good times with the times where you find yourself exhausted and just appreciating where your from are pretty even. Nevertheless, I will always want to come back here. I meet all these kids who come here every summer or have parents who are French and so they live here at various times of year. You cannot help to sort of envy these kids. You have to leave to appreciate where your from. I definitely wouldn’t mind spending a month in Paris every year even if it was just to act as a constant reminder. In conclusion, Paris was awesome and horrible all the same. I can’t help to think that any great city should be anything less.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
C'est bizarre, non?
Okay, so right now I am sitting in a McDonalds, connecting to the internet for free, and I am not obliged by the fine managment of thiis McDonalds to buy a damn thing. So strange. Let me back up and explain a little bit.
This morning I took off from my expensive 2 star hotel and traveled more downtown to star my 6 days and the very cheap hostel I am booked at. I come out of the metro and am lost. I totally forget where the place is. Then this french guy named Cedric asked me if I know where the hostel I am trying to get to is. Apparently, we are both lost and trying to get to this hostel. We walk around and I found out he is from Montpellier(France) and has come to Paris to become an actor. Unfortunately, his had a time share(or something) and it ran out so he is having to stay at hostels until he finds a new place. But what Cedric really wants is to live in New York. Apparently, that is where it is at. Cedric is very french and very meloncholy. He is going to be a great actor.
I think he should be the new Morrissey but I havent asked him if he sings. (jk)
Nevertheless, we find the hostel and I ask where their is a place where I can get free wifi(or as the french say it WE FEE)
He says McDonalds.
What?
Are their any cafes that have wifi?
No not really, they are hard to find and you usually have to pay.
But at McDonalds its free?
yep.
And I dont have to buy anything?
No of course not.
DAMN MCDONALDS.
What amazing ploy. All these cafes all over Paris, probably owned by an individual family who has to pay outrageous rent and cant afford to provide free wireless to their customers. Ahh...but McDonalds...over 99 billion served...who probably has an near endless supply of funds...has taken a monopoly on the wireless internet service in Paris and probably in all of France.
Man comes to Mcdonalds to use internet.
Man smells fries.
Man buys fries.
Man gets upsold and buys a burger and a fries.
Man comes every three days now.
Man brings family.
Ronald McDonald smokes a cigar and laughs his ass off in a olympic size pool of 100 dollar euros and chicken mcnuggets.
Genius.
Anyways...to add to the weird day. I decided to get some food before coming to the McDonalds to use the internet.
I stopped into one of thosefast food turkish restaurants(the food is good, cheap and probably somewhat healthy)
I try to order an turkish pizza but he says they are all out. So he offers me a meat sandwich.
Uh...Je ne veux pas la viande.
Vous vegetarian?
Oui.
Okay...how about a sandwich with tomato, lettuce, onions...oil and vinegar and....*man looking around...* and....fries...
hmm okay.
The man proceeds to make the sandwich and put the fries in my sandwich.
So if you ever want a fries sandwich.
You know where to go in Paris.
This morning I took off from my expensive 2 star hotel and traveled more downtown to star my 6 days and the very cheap hostel I am booked at. I come out of the metro and am lost. I totally forget where the place is. Then this french guy named Cedric asked me if I know where the hostel I am trying to get to is. Apparently, we are both lost and trying to get to this hostel. We walk around and I found out he is from Montpellier(France) and has come to Paris to become an actor. Unfortunately, his had a time share(or something) and it ran out so he is having to stay at hostels until he finds a new place. But what Cedric really wants is to live in New York. Apparently, that is where it is at. Cedric is very french and very meloncholy. He is going to be a great actor.
I think he should be the new Morrissey but I havent asked him if he sings. (jk)
Nevertheless, we find the hostel and I ask where their is a place where I can get free wifi(or as the french say it WE FEE)
He says McDonalds.
What?
Are their any cafes that have wifi?
No not really, they are hard to find and you usually have to pay.
But at McDonalds its free?
yep.
And I dont have to buy anything?
No of course not.
DAMN MCDONALDS.
What amazing ploy. All these cafes all over Paris, probably owned by an individual family who has to pay outrageous rent and cant afford to provide free wireless to their customers. Ahh...but McDonalds...over 99 billion served...who probably has an near endless supply of funds...has taken a monopoly on the wireless internet service in Paris and probably in all of France.
Man comes to Mcdonalds to use internet.
Man smells fries.
Man buys fries.
Man gets upsold and buys a burger and a fries.
Man comes every three days now.
Man brings family.
Ronald McDonald smokes a cigar and laughs his ass off in a olympic size pool of 100 dollar euros and chicken mcnuggets.
Genius.
Anyways...to add to the weird day. I decided to get some food before coming to the McDonalds to use the internet.
I stopped into one of thosefast food turkish restaurants(the food is good, cheap and probably somewhat healthy)
I try to order an turkish pizza but he says they are all out. So he offers me a meat sandwich.
Uh...Je ne veux pas la viande.
Vous vegetarian?
Oui.
Okay...how about a sandwich with tomato, lettuce, onions...oil and vinegar and....*man looking around...* and....fries...
hmm okay.
The man proceeds to make the sandwich and put the fries in my sandwich.
So if you ever want a fries sandwich.
You know where to go in Paris.
Friday, July 21, 2006
wanderings
So where did I leave you? Or rather…where am I? I can not help but find myself oddly in a similar position as the characters or authors of books I had read when I was younger. For example Henry Miller and “The Tropic of Cancer” or l’homme(I forget his name) in L’Etranger by Camus. However here I am in Paris, I do not particularly have anything to do. I do not have a lot of money, and I find myself wandering the streets of Paris with very little direction or purpose. It’s liberating but also rather bizarre. I wouldn’t dare say that I am bored but I definitely could say that….je suis blasé. ??? Oh what a burden…to sit in a tiny hotel room on a hot summer day in Paris eating bread, avocado and mustard for the 4th day in a row and to wander the streets with nothing to do. (*Notice sarcastic undertone) No, I am not complaining. I am merely making an observation on my condition right now. However, I can not help to think what is Paris now? Obviously, this is a very different Paris than Miller experienced. Prostitutes definitely don’t run the streets and as far as I can tell there aren’t any opium dens in town. Not that I would particularly care for Paris to be this way, but it definitely makes for a much more fascinating read that anything I am writing.(Note: I also don’t plan on shooting any Arabs… but wouldn’t mind meeting an bourgeoisie American who buys me dinner as long as I let him complain to me(ref. Tropic of Cancer)
Thus, here I am, finally inspired to write. And here I am writing. But what about is it that I am writing? Perhaps, in 150 years some how this blog will be stumbled upon and 18 year old kids will be fascinated with the vague details of my 12 days in Paris! So where am I?
Well should we got chronologically or backwards?
Let’s go chronologically.
First of all, I wake up everyday with the sun beating down on me and the sounds of construction going on next door. I have yet to figure out when they start work. One day it was 9…the other day I left my hotel at noon and no one was there. Ahh…the French.
So two days ago I received an email from one of my sister’s contacts here in Paris. The email was short but gave me two good suggestions; a bar and a hostel. I immediately left my hotel and went off into the metro and straight he hostel. There I booked 6 more nights for only 17 euros a night! Then I walked across the street the bar. I talked with the bartender a bit, she knew my sisters friend, gave me some suggestions on places to go and then proceeded to tell me to stick around because there was going to be a birthday party at the bar and it might get fun. So I stick around and the party eventually arrives around 10. They all gather around a table that is right next to mine. While they sing and laugh and pat each other on the backs, plates of food start coming out. At this moment I have my camera on the table. I like the way the good is displayed on the plate so I take a quick snapshot of it, with not flash, sitting from my table. This French woman who is with the party and probably in her late 40’s, short grey hair, looks pretty bourgeoisie starts speaking very loudly and aggressively to me in French. I understand a bit of it and immediately say I am sorry in French and put my camera away. She then starts critiquing me on my French. She then proceeds to start yelling at me about something…she gets louder…I say I am sorry and keep saying please(in French) and start trying to ignore her. Then, she starts speaking English to me. She calls me a typical American and what not and so forth. The rest of her party is beginning to notice her and is sort of trying to coax her away from yelling at me. She keeps pulling away and continues to yell at me. So finally (in French) I say the English equivalent of, “Shut your fucking mouth, I said I was sorry…” Voila! It sort of worked. She critiqued me on the way I said “la bouche”(mouth) and then finally left me alone.
10 minutes later she is offering me pineapple.
What?
“Ahhh…non…non…non….meeeeeeeeeeeeerci.” I say sarcastically. She turns away in a huff. About 10 minutes go by and a guy from the birthday party comes up to me apologizes and says that in the car ride to the bar she was bitching him out and that she is sort of off her rocker. So…I got buy two beers and try to offer her one, saying I am sorry again. She rejects it and then says in English, “I can’t have beer because I am on drugs.”
………….
She then proceeds to tell me roughly that the camera was freaking her out and that’s why she freaked out on me. We made amends (I guess…) and then she walked out of the bar. Immediately, as she walks out…everyone in the birthday party (equaling about 10-12 French people) start apologizing to me and making me sit in the middle of them and start practically shoving food in my face. It was pretty funny. Fortunately, the rest of the night was chill…I talked some more with the French people and then eventually left but not without confirming with everyone, including the two bartenders, that the lady was out of her mind.
You mean I am not a stupid American???? Ahh….thank god!
Everyone has them right? Every country, state, town has that stereotypical person that seems to be the generalized idea to at least certain parts of the world of what those people like. America has the bible-thumping, Bush loving, McDonalds eating, cowboy hat wearing kind. Just as the French have to bourgeoisie, drink red wine, smoke cigarettes, wear mostly black (and maybe a beret) and only talk to you if you know French type. By no means are they a majority in either place.(well…maybe in the US…) but nevertheless it was sort of funny and very interesting from a anthropological stand point to meet one.
The next day I went to Notre Dame.
I will title this part of the blog as “Notre-Dame: Cathedral of Pick-Pockets”. I know what you are thinking. You think that there were a lot of pickpockets in that area because it’s a high tourist area, etc. Well you are right partially. In the 40 minutes I was at Notre-Dame I overheard three people talking about how they had just had their wallet stolen or their purse. It is really unfortunate, especially in front of such a monument. It is certainly a high tourist area, but it is really beautiful and it was made in like 1100 or something. Regardless, it’s not the only pick-pockets that were there.
(*sorry…I am in my room right now and this song just came on my I-tunes and it brings me back to southern California…ahh….so cool…)
The other pickpockets was….that’s right….THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Okay…so to get into Notre-Dame it is free. To get into the Notre-Dame museum it cost money. However, that is okay because all museums in Paris cost money. So what the rip off? Well, inside the first floor of the cathedral are little mini-chapels that surround the walls. These chapels have a little gate, a few benches and are all dedicated to some random saint. All these saints also have candles which you can light as a prayer or an offering. OH but wait. You have to pay two euros to light a candle. What? And the size of these candles is small. They are the same size as tea-light candles (mom… you know…) Two euros!
But it gets better. So you walk around…and it’s beautiful and the chapels are interesting and adorned with beautiful stain-glass windows and paintings, etc. Then you get the chapel of Mary. Oh wait…its FIVE EUROS to light a candle for Mary. You mean you didn’t hear? Mary is a high-class girl. She aint no cheap date bro. She is hiiiiiiigh maintenance. Don’t think you take her to McDonalds and a movie and expect to get to third base. Mary only allows offerings of FIVE or more man. She is out of your league!!!
Ugh.
Anyways…after that I wandered over the Luxembourg Gardens which is another amazing example of the French artistry for parks. No, I am serious; the French don’t mess around with their parks. I ate some food, fell asleep.
Later on that night, I went out and got food with my sister’s friend and the bartender from the previously mentioned bar. Got decently priced cous cous. Conversation was fine. The bartender also works as an assistant editor to a fashion magazine called “Purple”. It’s more of an art-photography magazine with models who happen to be wearing designer clothes. It’s pretty cool… and Terry Richardson is all over it…I guess every issue. So you know what that means….ahem…. (Warning…for the faint of heart…if you don’t know Terry Richardson…DO NOT look him up on the internet).
More importantly, after I left I went down into the metro and as I was waiting for my train, I noticed to teenage French girls with Japanese fans. They were randomly opening and closing them and occasionally actually using them. They were talking about a dance class and were occasionally doing subtle pirouettes. For the last four days the heat has been unbearable. As I looked to my left and caught a middle aged woman also using an Japanese fan I couldn’t help to think how practical such an ancient invention still is…even on a hot summer ride on a metro line in Paris. I think it’s fascinating that such a simple, old invention is still feverishly in use by the French. It also reminded me of my mother who collects such fans. I couldn’t help but imagine her, there amongst the crowd, waiting for a metro line, with a fan in her hand, feverishly waving it. I think I should suggest to my mother that some time this summer she should break out one of her fans on a hot humid central California day and utilize it. It would also be a nice addition stylistically…very Parisian! Now only, if they made something like that for men. Damn it’s hot.
Today, I booked a weekend at a hostel in Nice. Oh-la-la…a weekend in July in the South of France…on the Mediterranean. I never thought I would. I best go buy some thongs and a swimsuit. Hey Chris is there surf in Nice?
Then I wandered around the 10th arrondissment as suggested to me. Some would say its ghetto. Which compared to the rest of Paris, it is a lot less posh. Actually, there is nothing posh about it… which is probably the reason why I liked it. I went in search of some places that would be more of my liking in regards to a place to go have a beer, maybe meet some people, hear some good music, At first, I stopped by the canal that runs through Paris. “Canal Saint Martin”. Eventually, the canal stops and turns into a long strip of park that runs awhile through the city. It’s very similar to the park blocks in Portland. Basically, a street would normally be where there, or maybe houses and shops. Instead, it’s a long skinny park. This park is a lot like an American park…sort of. I only say that because it seems that Paris doesn’t mess around when creating their parks. Most of the parks in Paris are gated, well kept and trimmed, usually close at sundown and some don’t even let you on the grass!(In this case, I noticed they provide a good amount of chairs and benches. Often times I have seen a whole section of the park dedicated to young children. One, even had its own merry-go round. Imagine growing up next to a local park that had its own, free, merry-go round. However, the park I found myself in today is no such park. It has not gate and it is not taken care off and it goes for a very long time through the city. I guess until one they have a flea/farmers market there. When they end…this mini cars come through with big hoses attached to them and spray down everything in site including you, who are sitting there eating a sandwich. It also seems that the homeless have taken to “resting” there and the whole area seems to be filled with second hand shops and cheap Turkish food. However, there does seem to be an underlining “bohemian” (can someone please destroy this word. Come on…let us find new word for the 21st century that means “poor, artsy and hip”) feel to the place.
So I took a walk.
Down a street with a German name (irony?)
I wandered a while, went down an alley, wandered a bit more…and found a magazine/art gallery/record store. I stopped in and looked around. Then I asked, in my poor French, “Connaissez-vous un bon café ou discotheque?”
“Ahhhhhh….Ouais!!!!!”
(insert 10 minutes of a young man speaking French very quickly to me, about 27 percent of that which I understand…flyers are getting handed to me…names and addresses written on the back of other flyers being handed to me…etc.)
“uh…merci monsieur”
“Rien!”
Damn I felt like I should of bought something but I wasn’t into the idea of buying a comic priced at 17 euros. Fortunately, there is a show going on Saturday at that very place. So I will definitely be going.
I stopped by a café playing afro-beat, had an espresso, and reviewed my flyers. Wandered around a bit more, found myself in a completely Arabic part of town,(hardly any French…almost all Arabic signs), found some places on the flyers, saw a burned out car, walked by an elementary school and heard the laughter of children but couldn’t seen them, wiped my brow…walked down into the metro…
Thus, here I am, finally inspired to write. And here I am writing. But what about is it that I am writing? Perhaps, in 150 years some how this blog will be stumbled upon and 18 year old kids will be fascinated with the vague details of my 12 days in Paris! So where am I?
Well should we got chronologically or backwards?
Let’s go chronologically.
First of all, I wake up everyday with the sun beating down on me and the sounds of construction going on next door. I have yet to figure out when they start work. One day it was 9…the other day I left my hotel at noon and no one was there. Ahh…the French.
So two days ago I received an email from one of my sister’s contacts here in Paris. The email was short but gave me two good suggestions; a bar and a hostel. I immediately left my hotel and went off into the metro and straight he hostel. There I booked 6 more nights for only 17 euros a night! Then I walked across the street the bar. I talked with the bartender a bit, she knew my sisters friend, gave me some suggestions on places to go and then proceeded to tell me to stick around because there was going to be a birthday party at the bar and it might get fun. So I stick around and the party eventually arrives around 10. They all gather around a table that is right next to mine. While they sing and laugh and pat each other on the backs, plates of food start coming out. At this moment I have my camera on the table. I like the way the good is displayed on the plate so I take a quick snapshot of it, with not flash, sitting from my table. This French woman who is with the party and probably in her late 40’s, short grey hair, looks pretty bourgeoisie starts speaking very loudly and aggressively to me in French. I understand a bit of it and immediately say I am sorry in French and put my camera away. She then starts critiquing me on my French. She then proceeds to start yelling at me about something…she gets louder…I say I am sorry and keep saying please(in French) and start trying to ignore her. Then, she starts speaking English to me. She calls me a typical American and what not and so forth. The rest of her party is beginning to notice her and is sort of trying to coax her away from yelling at me. She keeps pulling away and continues to yell at me. So finally (in French) I say the English equivalent of, “Shut your fucking mouth, I said I was sorry…” Voila! It sort of worked. She critiqued me on the way I said “la bouche”(mouth) and then finally left me alone.
10 minutes later she is offering me pineapple.
What?
“Ahhh…non…non…non….meeeeeeeeeeeeerci.” I say sarcastically. She turns away in a huff. About 10 minutes go by and a guy from the birthday party comes up to me apologizes and says that in the car ride to the bar she was bitching him out and that she is sort of off her rocker. So…I got buy two beers and try to offer her one, saying I am sorry again. She rejects it and then says in English, “I can’t have beer because I am on drugs.”
………….
She then proceeds to tell me roughly that the camera was freaking her out and that’s why she freaked out on me. We made amends (I guess…) and then she walked out of the bar. Immediately, as she walks out…everyone in the birthday party (equaling about 10-12 French people) start apologizing to me and making me sit in the middle of them and start practically shoving food in my face. It was pretty funny. Fortunately, the rest of the night was chill…I talked some more with the French people and then eventually left but not without confirming with everyone, including the two bartenders, that the lady was out of her mind.
You mean I am not a stupid American???? Ahh….thank god!
Everyone has them right? Every country, state, town has that stereotypical person that seems to be the generalized idea to at least certain parts of the world of what those people like. America has the bible-thumping, Bush loving, McDonalds eating, cowboy hat wearing kind. Just as the French have to bourgeoisie, drink red wine, smoke cigarettes, wear mostly black (and maybe a beret) and only talk to you if you know French type. By no means are they a majority in either place.(well…maybe in the US…) but nevertheless it was sort of funny and very interesting from a anthropological stand point to meet one.
The next day I went to Notre Dame.
I will title this part of the blog as “Notre-Dame: Cathedral of Pick-Pockets”. I know what you are thinking. You think that there were a lot of pickpockets in that area because it’s a high tourist area, etc. Well you are right partially. In the 40 minutes I was at Notre-Dame I overheard three people talking about how they had just had their wallet stolen or their purse. It is really unfortunate, especially in front of such a monument. It is certainly a high tourist area, but it is really beautiful and it was made in like 1100 or something. Regardless, it’s not the only pick-pockets that were there.
(*sorry…I am in my room right now and this song just came on my I-tunes and it brings me back to southern California…ahh….so cool…)
The other pickpockets was….that’s right….THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. Okay…so to get into Notre-Dame it is free. To get into the Notre-Dame museum it cost money. However, that is okay because all museums in Paris cost money. So what the rip off? Well, inside the first floor of the cathedral are little mini-chapels that surround the walls. These chapels have a little gate, a few benches and are all dedicated to some random saint. All these saints also have candles which you can light as a prayer or an offering. OH but wait. You have to pay two euros to light a candle. What? And the size of these candles is small. They are the same size as tea-light candles (mom… you know…) Two euros!
But it gets better. So you walk around…and it’s beautiful and the chapels are interesting and adorned with beautiful stain-glass windows and paintings, etc. Then you get the chapel of Mary. Oh wait…its FIVE EUROS to light a candle for Mary. You mean you didn’t hear? Mary is a high-class girl. She aint no cheap date bro. She is hiiiiiiigh maintenance. Don’t think you take her to McDonalds and a movie and expect to get to third base. Mary only allows offerings of FIVE or more man. She is out of your league!!!
Ugh.
Anyways…after that I wandered over the Luxembourg Gardens which is another amazing example of the French artistry for parks. No, I am serious; the French don’t mess around with their parks. I ate some food, fell asleep.
Later on that night, I went out and got food with my sister’s friend and the bartender from the previously mentioned bar. Got decently priced cous cous. Conversation was fine. The bartender also works as an assistant editor to a fashion magazine called “Purple”. It’s more of an art-photography magazine with models who happen to be wearing designer clothes. It’s pretty cool… and Terry Richardson is all over it…I guess every issue. So you know what that means….ahem…. (Warning…for the faint of heart…if you don’t know Terry Richardson…DO NOT look him up on the internet).
More importantly, after I left I went down into the metro and as I was waiting for my train, I noticed to teenage French girls with Japanese fans. They were randomly opening and closing them and occasionally actually using them. They were talking about a dance class and were occasionally doing subtle pirouettes. For the last four days the heat has been unbearable. As I looked to my left and caught a middle aged woman also using an Japanese fan I couldn’t help to think how practical such an ancient invention still is…even on a hot summer ride on a metro line in Paris. I think it’s fascinating that such a simple, old invention is still feverishly in use by the French. It also reminded me of my mother who collects such fans. I couldn’t help but imagine her, there amongst the crowd, waiting for a metro line, with a fan in her hand, feverishly waving it. I think I should suggest to my mother that some time this summer she should break out one of her fans on a hot humid central California day and utilize it. It would also be a nice addition stylistically…very Parisian! Now only, if they made something like that for men. Damn it’s hot.
Today, I booked a weekend at a hostel in Nice. Oh-la-la…a weekend in July in the South of France…on the Mediterranean. I never thought I would. I best go buy some thongs and a swimsuit. Hey Chris is there surf in Nice?
Then I wandered around the 10th arrondissment as suggested to me. Some would say its ghetto. Which compared to the rest of Paris, it is a lot less posh. Actually, there is nothing posh about it… which is probably the reason why I liked it. I went in search of some places that would be more of my liking in regards to a place to go have a beer, maybe meet some people, hear some good music, At first, I stopped by the canal that runs through Paris. “Canal Saint Martin”. Eventually, the canal stops and turns into a long strip of park that runs awhile through the city. It’s very similar to the park blocks in Portland. Basically, a street would normally be where there, or maybe houses and shops. Instead, it’s a long skinny park. This park is a lot like an American park…sort of. I only say that because it seems that Paris doesn’t mess around when creating their parks. Most of the parks in Paris are gated, well kept and trimmed, usually close at sundown and some don’t even let you on the grass!(In this case, I noticed they provide a good amount of chairs and benches. Often times I have seen a whole section of the park dedicated to young children. One, even had its own merry-go round. Imagine growing up next to a local park that had its own, free, merry-go round. However, the park I found myself in today is no such park. It has not gate and it is not taken care off and it goes for a very long time through the city. I guess until one they have a flea/farmers market there. When they end…this mini cars come through with big hoses attached to them and spray down everything in site including you, who are sitting there eating a sandwich. It also seems that the homeless have taken to “resting” there and the whole area seems to be filled with second hand shops and cheap Turkish food. However, there does seem to be an underlining “bohemian” (can someone please destroy this word. Come on…let us find new word for the 21st century that means “poor, artsy and hip”) feel to the place.
So I took a walk.
Down a street with a German name (irony?)
I wandered a while, went down an alley, wandered a bit more…and found a magazine/art gallery/record store. I stopped in and looked around. Then I asked, in my poor French, “Connaissez-vous un bon café ou discotheque?”
“Ahhhhhh….Ouais!!!!!”
(insert 10 minutes of a young man speaking French very quickly to me, about 27 percent of that which I understand…flyers are getting handed to me…names and addresses written on the back of other flyers being handed to me…etc.)
“uh…merci monsieur”
“Rien!”
Damn I felt like I should of bought something but I wasn’t into the idea of buying a comic priced at 17 euros. Fortunately, there is a show going on Saturday at that very place. So I will definitely be going.
I stopped by a café playing afro-beat, had an espresso, and reviewed my flyers. Wandered around a bit more, found myself in a completely Arabic part of town,(hardly any French…almost all Arabic signs), found some places on the flyers, saw a burned out car, walked by an elementary school and heard the laughter of children but couldn’t seen them, wiped my brow…walked down into the metro…
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
photos of berlin
crazy soviet memorial built in berlin during the time that berlin was divided. By far the most facinating and amazing place i have been so far. Please ask me about this place...you WILL get an earful.
me at the wall...amy with a big pastry...amy at the foot of bebelplatz...this is where the nazi's burned books...in its place they built an EMPTY underground library...that only has one window...which is in the ceiling...or the middle of the square...some funny photo of amy in the subway of berlin. An old lady walked into the photo creating the best photo ever...and me...looking at a map...more photos to come...
ps. its raining with lightning and thunder here in paris
I love Paris...in the summer...when it sizzles...
So it’s around 5 o’clock in the afternoon…and I am in my “hotel room”. I was luckily enough yesterday to find an adapter for my laptop and any other American appliance I may have. I’m sitting Indian style, listening to Broadcast on my laptop with the sounds of construction and the loud Turkish kids outside my window that never seem to shut up. Drinking a Perrier. Eating bread. I know what you are thinking. Its 5 o’clock in the afternoon and I am sitting inside. I am in Paris…what the hell am I doing? Why aren’t I outside!!!? Well a couple of reasons. First of all, for the last 3 days Amy and I have wondered all over this town by foot. I bet we put in a good ten miles a day. We rarely use public transportation. We chose not to do this mainly because you understand and experience a city so much more when it is right there in front of you. When you go into a tunnel and pop out right in front of another monument, you are only getting half of what is going on. You don’t see the neighborhoods change, the people, the shops the eccentric places, alleys or strange coincidences occur(like noticing an option on a menu outside a Turkish restaurant called “Ass Doner” or the fat man hanging outside his window staring out endlessly into the street…smoking a cigarette. ) Every town we have gone to, we walk. And in every town we probably have seen some things that most tourists who stop in for only a couple days haven’t. These events, people, writings on the wall or strange menu option are not necessarily significant, but on the other hand…we aren’t either. So my end conclusion is that I am tired of walking and for the last 3 days it has been over 36 Celsius here in Paris (I will let you translate that one…) but basically, before you put on your second sock after getting out of the shower you already have a forhead full of sweat. Thus, I am taking a bit of break from this heat and chilling in my hotel for awhile. The second reason why I am here in my room is because Paris is a pain on the wallet. I heard the rumors before I came here but I also heard the same rumors about San Francisco. But here…it’s actually true. For example…I went to the guy at the front desk (a nice middle aged French man who loves Steve McQueen and helps me with my French. We always have a brief conversation in French in the morning.) And asked him in French where I could find a cheap restaurant. He asked how much cheap was. I said less than 10 euro. He then asked if I meant lunch…I told him no…for dinner. He laughed. End of conversation. So yah…I have been almost every arrondissment and outside them…and so far…lunch is always at least 7 euro and dinner is well over 12. Have you looked to see how much the euro is worth nowadays compared to the dollar?? Needless to say, before Paris I was doing real well with my cash but since arriving in Paris only 3 days ago…I have been hurting for anything cheap. I hear the rest of France is better….god I hope so. BUT tomorrow is free day for all the museums…so I will probably hit up the Louvre tomorrow which will save me a few bucks. So that’s why I am in my room. Overall, Paris has been nice. I have been able to test out my French speaking skills and everywhere you turn there is some museum or building that was built 400 years or square where thousands of people were beheaded. It is a strange juxtaposition with all the wealth and fashion that is here as well. Paris is full of clothing stores. Even out in the 18th arrondissment its still clothing stores…they are just all used and cheap. I have yet to run into the stereotypical snobby French person as well. However, upon witnessing some other Americans and how they interact with the locals it is pretty embarrassing to watch. Every time there is someone loud on the train or in the bar or at the hostel, it seems to mostly be Americans or English. Since our first day Amy and I have been to the Pompidou which was currently holding an exhibit on experimental film (oh I bet you guys are so jealous…*ahem* Chris…roman) and an exhibit on Los Angeles which was a chronological exhibition on the Los Angeles artist. Super interesting since I am practically from there. We have also been to the Père Lachaise cemetery…which holds such people as Oscar Wilde, Max Ernst, Marcel Proust, Guillaume Appolinaire, Balzac, Moliere, and um….Jim Morrison. (Whose grave has since been cleaned, a gate has been put around it and it now has a guard to make sure it is not defaced). We walked around the Louvre Palace(which is so much bigger than I had ever thought or anticipated)…drank a beer sitting next the Seine and walked…walked…walked..etc.
In addition to all of this, last night we went and saw “Marie Antoinette” the new Sofia Coppola movie. (1*we were so tired from the heat/ 2* it was actually only 7 euros to go see it/ 3* that movie doesn’t come out till October in the states!!!) So now we have something to brag about for a couple months back in the states. Unfortunately, it was no good. I walked out trying to pretend I sort of liked it but five minutes later we concluded it was just not very good. Oh well…
So in an hour or so I am going to go back out into the city of Paris. However, it will alone. Amy left for back home today as was planned. I have three more days booked here in Paris and 10 days altogether before I start school in Angers. Paris is a big city and it will be sort of lonely not having her to walk around, get sweaty, get lost and experience this place with me. I don’t know what I am going to do exactly. But I will figure it out. As for the 6 days before I start school, I think I am going to try and get out of Paris mainly because of how pricy it is.
End conclusion. Paris is a wonderful city that I have enjoyed. However, it’s also a hard to penetrate past the tourism and expensive areas. Every town Amy and went to we were able to find that sort of hidden bar or cool local hangout to have a few beers at before we went back to our hostel. However in Paris we have been unable to that. Everywhere we go that has been suggested just seems sort of posh or mainly touristy. This town is definitely a place where knowing someone who lives here would come in handy. (Which I thought I had people who I could hit up but I guess not….blah) So I don’t know…tonight…probably go see Notre Dame…walk around an arrondissment I haven’t been to…see what happens.
In addition to all of this, last night we went and saw “Marie Antoinette” the new Sofia Coppola movie. (1*we were so tired from the heat/ 2* it was actually only 7 euros to go see it/ 3* that movie doesn’t come out till October in the states!!!) So now we have something to brag about for a couple months back in the states. Unfortunately, it was no good. I walked out trying to pretend I sort of liked it but five minutes later we concluded it was just not very good. Oh well…
So in an hour or so I am going to go back out into the city of Paris. However, it will alone. Amy left for back home today as was planned. I have three more days booked here in Paris and 10 days altogether before I start school in Angers. Paris is a big city and it will be sort of lonely not having her to walk around, get sweaty, get lost and experience this place with me. I don’t know what I am going to do exactly. But I will figure it out. As for the 6 days before I start school, I think I am going to try and get out of Paris mainly because of how pricy it is.
End conclusion. Paris is a wonderful city that I have enjoyed. However, it’s also a hard to penetrate past the tourism and expensive areas. Every town Amy and went to we were able to find that sort of hidden bar or cool local hangout to have a few beers at before we went back to our hostel. However in Paris we have been unable to that. Everywhere we go that has been suggested just seems sort of posh or mainly touristy. This town is definitely a place where knowing someone who lives here would come in handy. (Which I thought I had people who I could hit up but I guess not….blah) So I don’t know…tonight…probably go see Notre Dame…walk around an arrondissment I haven’t been to…see what happens.
Monday, July 17, 2006
travel travel travel
so right now i am using a french keyboqrd qnd it is the worst. So...there is no way in hell i am going to write qa big long blog right now...instead here is a list of past events:
-ping pong bar in berlin...amazing place...meet an artist named jasper from denmark and dumpy swedes...stayed with the owner of the joint that night...thanks oliver
-8 hr train ride to brussels
-3hr walk around brussels looking for food that wasnt a pizza or over 12 euros
-wander into the ghetto and red light district of brussels
-begin to hate brussels
-get chinese food arouind midnight and eat it in a park with forks big as my pinky
-decide to leave brussels
-in paris next day
-take 6hr walk around paris
-spend 22 euro on ice cream water and coffee
-best ice cream and coffee ever
- paris is awesome
-ping pong bar in berlin...amazing place...meet an artist named jasper from denmark and dumpy swedes...stayed with the owner of the joint that night...thanks oliver
-8 hr train ride to brussels
-3hr walk around brussels looking for food that wasnt a pizza or over 12 euros
-wander into the ghetto and red light district of brussels
-begin to hate brussels
-get chinese food arouind midnight and eat it in a park with forks big as my pinky
-decide to leave brussels
-in paris next day
-take 6hr walk around paris
-spend 22 euro on ice cream water and coffee
-best ice cream and coffee ever
- paris is awesome
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Berlinettes
Berlin 1st 12 hours:
Ate at a New Zealand cafe owned by the owners of our hostel because we came into down super hungrz but it was...surprisingly...really good. Walked to the wall from our hostel(we are staying in east berlin). On the way we saw awesome records stores and second hand shops and tons of really good graffitti. And everyones bikes....everyone here is on a bike which is really cool. Furthermore, every bike is pretty normal and plain looking. So there is a definite bike culture but its not super fashionable and stupid like SOME cities ,) no but what i mean is that everyone seems to bike...the traffic seems to be tame and...no one is looking to turn their bike into a fashion statement. At the end of the wall...we turned left and found a skatepark+beach party+bike co-op+volleyball game+lots of sand that came from i dunno where+old rocksteady and reggae records being blasted throughout. I heard about this. Berlin is way into the idea of the beach party. The problem is...they have no beach. I thought it would be lame but this place was awesome. Plus, it was right on the river...we grabbed a drink...through our legs over the edge of the river wall and listened to music while germans and african immigrants sipped beer, played volleyball and relaxed all around us. And finally...they made us give them a euro as a drink deposit. Basically, it is to make sure you bring back your empty bottle so they can recycle it. If you dont...they keep your euro. The irony of this place is endless but they did it well. Not to mention we were sitting on the edge of a river on the east side of berlin where so many people had tried to cross during to the soviet area and unfortunatley never made it. While on the subject, i have to say that while most of the wall is down and the part that is up is covered in art...its still a very intimidating thing to walk next to. I cant even imagine what it must of been like. The rest of the evening was spent and a couple of bars, one which is owned by this guy from New Mexico. Its a ping-pong bar...pretty cool and he gave us some tips of other places to go. We had tons of trouble getting back to our hostel(didnt get in until around 4) but did finally make it thanks to some wits the very little german i know and some very little english a cabbie knew.
+Today+
woke up late...wandered around for a bit trying to find a place to eat. this was really frustrating but we ended up over by jewish memorial and then walked to the reichstag(that place hitler burned to the ground, said it was a terrorist and then used it to gain full government control of military and parliamant...hmm sound familiar?) . Walked through Tiergarten...which is a really massive but beautiful park in the Berlin. Seriously...this place is great...old statues of Goethe and german leaders and thinkers are randomnly placed throughout...small creeks run through it with tiny bridges...etc. Its great and when you get to the other side your on a completely different side of town with lots of museums. So we walked through...went to the Bauhaus Archive. Ate is some random lebanese cafe across town...and then a 45 minute ride back to east-east berlin...
drinkin an erdinger...its hot...gonna rest up...going out later on...
berlin is awesome.
Ate at a New Zealand cafe owned by the owners of our hostel because we came into down super hungrz but it was...surprisingly...really good. Walked to the wall from our hostel(we are staying in east berlin). On the way we saw awesome records stores and second hand shops and tons of really good graffitti. And everyones bikes....everyone here is on a bike which is really cool. Furthermore, every bike is pretty normal and plain looking. So there is a definite bike culture but its not super fashionable and stupid like SOME cities ,) no but what i mean is that everyone seems to bike...the traffic seems to be tame and...no one is looking to turn their bike into a fashion statement. At the end of the wall...we turned left and found a skatepark+beach party+bike co-op+volleyball game+lots of sand that came from i dunno where+old rocksteady and reggae records being blasted throughout. I heard about this. Berlin is way into the idea of the beach party. The problem is...they have no beach. I thought it would be lame but this place was awesome. Plus, it was right on the river...we grabbed a drink...through our legs over the edge of the river wall and listened to music while germans and african immigrants sipped beer, played volleyball and relaxed all around us. And finally...they made us give them a euro as a drink deposit. Basically, it is to make sure you bring back your empty bottle so they can recycle it. If you dont...they keep your euro. The irony of this place is endless but they did it well. Not to mention we were sitting on the edge of a river on the east side of berlin where so many people had tried to cross during to the soviet area and unfortunatley never made it. While on the subject, i have to say that while most of the wall is down and the part that is up is covered in art...its still a very intimidating thing to walk next to. I cant even imagine what it must of been like. The rest of the evening was spent and a couple of bars, one which is owned by this guy from New Mexico. Its a ping-pong bar...pretty cool and he gave us some tips of other places to go. We had tons of trouble getting back to our hostel(didnt get in until around 4) but did finally make it thanks to some wits the very little german i know and some very little english a cabbie knew.
+Today+
woke up late...wandered around for a bit trying to find a place to eat. this was really frustrating but we ended up over by jewish memorial and then walked to the reichstag(that place hitler burned to the ground, said it was a terrorist and then used it to gain full government control of military and parliamant...hmm sound familiar?) . Walked through Tiergarten...which is a really massive but beautiful park in the Berlin. Seriously...this place is great...old statues of Goethe and german leaders and thinkers are randomnly placed throughout...small creeks run through it with tiny bridges...etc. Its great and when you get to the other side your on a completely different side of town with lots of museums. So we walked through...went to the Bauhaus Archive. Ate is some random lebanese cafe across town...and then a 45 minute ride back to east-east berlin...
drinkin an erdinger...its hot...gonna rest up...going out later on...
berlin is awesome.
Monday, July 10, 2006
photos finally...
whoops...i slept in til 1230 today. Last night we saw France lose ("Pourquoi Zinedane!!!") at a bar around the corner. Really cheap beer called Hooegarten(sp?) and good service. Man, that beer was good though. Then we went to a club which was having reggae/dub/rocksteady. Lots of different people from various places. Music was average, we left when the dj started singing over his records with a Jamaicain accent. He was obviously from Prague and very white. Today, we wandered to the outskirts of the city again, found a neat little cafe/bookstore. Amy and I are very much ready to move on. We leave tomorrow for Berlin. Which will be nice. Tonight, it has been very laidback. We have been just hanging out. We are going to go to a small little family owned bar/restaurant later. Final impressions of Prague: a strange, neat little town that is extremely wonderful to look at and wander around in. However, the people we have encountered have been very hit or miss as have the clubs/bars. If you want cheap beer and decent people then leave Prague 1 and watch out for dog crap when you do. Its everywhere. I suggest Prague 2 or 3(by the way this is the way the areas are divided up). But in the end, I have succumbed to the fact that Prague is turning very much into any other big city. Malls, McDonalds, tourist traps, etc. Fortunately, most of the city still looks like no place I have ever been.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Praha:re-evaluation
Since my last post things in Prague have been.....well...weird. In all honesty the first three days here seemed very strange. Very... Kafkaesque dare I say? Almost every bit of information we got off the internet before coming here has been wrong. For example...restaurants not actually being open on the days/hours we had found on the internet...yesterday we went looking for a laundrymat only to discover that the address we had was actually an H and M. (wtf???) An hour later after wandering around all of Prague with our laundry we got it done for only 25 bucks. Yah...we did laundry for 430 korunas... and the lady was a bitch about it to top it all off. Last night we went in search of a vegetarian restaurant which was supposedly open til 4 in the morning. Actually, its open until 1 and then it turns into a dance club. When we arrived in was "Soul Night".
BUT. Things have gotten better. A couple nights ago we discovered the secret bar. Its actually a bar that has no sign and you have to be buzzed in. With the help of an obviously gay red-headed englishman who knew a bunch about economics and a bit of luck we stumbled upon "The Blind Eye". I dunno how people here about this place but it was packed...had a mix of english and americans mostly. I played foosball with some germans and actually kicked there ass four games in a row. Talked to this guy from Pennsylvania who lives here in Prague with his Polish wife. They gave us a few tips. Overall a cool place but very american...we heard everything from whites stripes to Q and Not U in there. We also went grocery shopping a supermarket. Grocery Shopping in the Czech republic...what an experience.
Last night we met some kids who go to art school here and hung out with them at a bar called Propaganda. For three days we have walked by this place and they are always playing NOFX...doesnt sound great but for Prague...its amazing. After tragically watching Germany kicked Portugal's ass there...the NOFX came back on. Then 3rd wave ska. Hey...it could be worse. Besides the beers were 17 korunas...which equals about 70 cents!
Then there is today.
The relocation. For the last 3 days Amy and I have been staying in a different hostel. Dont ask...its a long story. But today...through my hostel...we were able to book two more nights together this time. However, after book this, the landlord of the hostel told us to get into his car and he was going to drive us the hostel. Uh what? So I guess he has another place...which is an extension from that hostel. Only its...across town. Outside of Prague 1. But...it actually has turned out to be alot better. There is a kick ass bar/venue/club right next door. And all the restaurants around this area are super super cheap. We had breakfast today for about 5 bucks total. Now this is Prague!
Took a trip to the top of a hill and saw all of Prague. At the top is a giant pendulum and a park that has been taken over by skaters who really suck. (Sorry...they do...I think I saw maybe two sucessful ollies the whole time i was there) We also went to a modern exhibit of Rineke Dijkstra potraits. If you havent seen her shit...read up cous'. Saw a crazy Kafka statue...saw an even crazier radio tower that has giant statues of babies crawling all over it. Yah...this shit is nuts. The tower can be seen from almost anywhere in Prague and the dude who built decided to cover it with giant babies crawling all over it.
Bought a day pass for the public transportation and took it the end of the line...got off...walked around ghetto parts of Prague. Came back...bought some yummy czech garlic chips and a Fanta(Prague is into mexican food...even saw a 24 hour burrito joint...NO im not going to try it...)
Overall...just as Mr. Walters pointed out in his last comment...Amy and I have tried hard here to not immerse ourselves in the tourist parts of town and make an effort to go explore other parts that are less frequented by tourist. The results of this effort have been positive.
To end...here are a couple of things about Prague that you may not have heard:
1. Graffitti everywhere. The town in drenched in this shit. Most of it is not that great...but I have seen some cool stencils...and one that said, "Banana Children of the Rice" and "We Dont Want a Clean City"
2. The culture in stuck in 1994. NOFX and Ska is everywhere. I even saw a poster that was a 2 day SKA festival with The Toasters headlining.
3. Cops dont care about skating. Most of the city is cobble stone...even out where we are now...Cops let the kids skate where they can. I saw kids rolling through the subway stop and two cops just cruise right by them.
4. You have to pay to get into cemetaries.
5. The subway system is like an air-conditioner. Its always at least 10 degrees cooler down there and the whole underground system is decorated really 60's. But its still cool somehow...I love it so much I filmed on my camera a subway rolling in. Hey Chris...no joke...move here...I will go too...and make a film....I write...you film...trust me...this place is dying for a film to take place in it.
Go France.
BUT. Things have gotten better. A couple nights ago we discovered the secret bar. Its actually a bar that has no sign and you have to be buzzed in. With the help of an obviously gay red-headed englishman who knew a bunch about economics and a bit of luck we stumbled upon "The Blind Eye". I dunno how people here about this place but it was packed...had a mix of english and americans mostly. I played foosball with some germans and actually kicked there ass four games in a row. Talked to this guy from Pennsylvania who lives here in Prague with his Polish wife. They gave us a few tips. Overall a cool place but very american...we heard everything from whites stripes to Q and Not U in there. We also went grocery shopping a supermarket. Grocery Shopping in the Czech republic...what an experience.
Last night we met some kids who go to art school here and hung out with them at a bar called Propaganda. For three days we have walked by this place and they are always playing NOFX...doesnt sound great but for Prague...its amazing. After tragically watching Germany kicked Portugal's ass there...the NOFX came back on. Then 3rd wave ska. Hey...it could be worse. Besides the beers were 17 korunas...which equals about 70 cents!
Then there is today.
The relocation. For the last 3 days Amy and I have been staying in a different hostel. Dont ask...its a long story. But today...through my hostel...we were able to book two more nights together this time. However, after book this, the landlord of the hostel told us to get into his car and he was going to drive us the hostel. Uh what? So I guess he has another place...which is an extension from that hostel. Only its...across town. Outside of Prague 1. But...it actually has turned out to be alot better. There is a kick ass bar/venue/club right next door. And all the restaurants around this area are super super cheap. We had breakfast today for about 5 bucks total. Now this is Prague!
Took a trip to the top of a hill and saw all of Prague. At the top is a giant pendulum and a park that has been taken over by skaters who really suck. (Sorry...they do...I think I saw maybe two sucessful ollies the whole time i was there) We also went to a modern exhibit of Rineke Dijkstra potraits. If you havent seen her shit...read up cous'. Saw a crazy Kafka statue...saw an even crazier radio tower that has giant statues of babies crawling all over it. Yah...this shit is nuts. The tower can be seen from almost anywhere in Prague and the dude who built decided to cover it with giant babies crawling all over it.
Bought a day pass for the public transportation and took it the end of the line...got off...walked around ghetto parts of Prague. Came back...bought some yummy czech garlic chips and a Fanta(Prague is into mexican food...even saw a 24 hour burrito joint...NO im not going to try it...)
Overall...just as Mr. Walters pointed out in his last comment...Amy and I have tried hard here to not immerse ourselves in the tourist parts of town and make an effort to go explore other parts that are less frequented by tourist. The results of this effort have been positive.
To end...here are a couple of things about Prague that you may not have heard:
1. Graffitti everywhere. The town in drenched in this shit. Most of it is not that great...but I have seen some cool stencils...and one that said, "Banana Children of the Rice" and "We Dont Want a Clean City"
2. The culture in stuck in 1994. NOFX and Ska is everywhere. I even saw a poster that was a 2 day SKA festival with The Toasters headlining.
3. Cops dont care about skating. Most of the city is cobble stone...even out where we are now...Cops let the kids skate where they can. I saw kids rolling through the subway stop and two cops just cruise right by them.
4. You have to pay to get into cemetaries.
5. The subway system is like an air-conditioner. Its always at least 10 degrees cooler down there and the whole underground system is decorated really 60's. But its still cool somehow...I love it so much I filmed on my camera a subway rolling in. Hey Chris...no joke...move here...I will go too...and make a film....I write...you film...trust me...this place is dying for a film to take place in it.
Go France.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Praha fact vs.myth
So i am going to go on a bit of a rant here. Ever since I first mentioned I was going to Europe people have been telling me two things...go to prague....its so cheap. Well, I am on day two out of five and i got a bit of a bone to pick. First off all, when you come to prague...you give them your US currency and laugh when you exchange your 20 dollar bill and get back 400 korunas. Oh my...you think...prague must be soooooooooooo cheap. But the actual truth is...and as we have learned from some people we have talked to along to way...is that the Prague prices are set to the american currency. For example...coffee...usually about a dollar or a dollar fifty in the us. Well in Prague its about 22-25 korunas. Ah...it all equals out! It IS a bit cheaper...but about as cheap as Portland where I live anyways. Second of all, where is it at here? Yes...its beautiful...so amazing beautiful...I have never been to a city with such old buildings and statues etc etc. BUT wheres the fun. My biggest problem so far is how riducously this place is focused on tourism. It bums me out. Right next a beautiful cathedral will sure enough be a KFC or a mcDonalds...or some handing you brochures, asking you if you want to go on a boat ride. I stumbled into an extremely old building only to find that it was an indoor mall full of souvenirs items. Gross. Gross. Gross. Everyone pratically speaks fluent english and I have seen way too many restaurants called steak houses or american diner. Good job america...you have officially taken over almost the entire world. Maybe in 20 years when i go visit some obscure country like Laos..you can provide me with a Gap and Big Mac.
Fact
Prague is very different and very beautiful. The Kafka measuem is awesome and so is the castle on the hill. Last night, amy and I did find a pretty cool hipster bar where czechs and expats alike met on the dance floor and shook their ass to some okay indie...err...sorta indie music. Upon speaking to people however, it seemed to be the only place like it. Except for one other bar which has no name on the front and you have to ring a door bell...we were informed that Prague is lacking in cool bars like this one. The people of prague seem very cool and the communist museum and a few more activities are definitely in store. However, from everyone telling me how amazing it is and how cheap it is...I feel a bit cheated. It is beautiful...but its definitely been tainted with westernization that I do even want to think how this place is going to look in 20 years.
end result
enjoying myself...but...bohemian mecca my ass.
i think i just like cities where yes...there is tourism...but the whole city could care less. Here, it seems the only thing the whole city is concerned with. Perhaps its because its summer. i dunno...
two things
photos will be coming soon...i didnt get a european plug adapter so its going to be a bit longer till i figure this one out...
second...sorry for the lack of commas and colons in this blog...uh....czech keyboard a bit confusing.....
Fact
Prague is very different and very beautiful. The Kafka measuem is awesome and so is the castle on the hill. Last night, amy and I did find a pretty cool hipster bar where czechs and expats alike met on the dance floor and shook their ass to some okay indie...err...sorta indie music. Upon speaking to people however, it seemed to be the only place like it. Except for one other bar which has no name on the front and you have to ring a door bell...we were informed that Prague is lacking in cool bars like this one. The people of prague seem very cool and the communist museum and a few more activities are definitely in store. However, from everyone telling me how amazing it is and how cheap it is...I feel a bit cheated. It is beautiful...but its definitely been tainted with westernization that I do even want to think how this place is going to look in 20 years.
end result
enjoying myself...but...bohemian mecca my ass.
i think i just like cities where yes...there is tourism...but the whole city could care less. Here, it seems the only thing the whole city is concerned with. Perhaps its because its summer. i dunno...
two things
photos will be coming soon...i didnt get a european plug adapter so its going to be a bit longer till i figure this one out...
second...sorry for the lack of commas and colons in this blog...uh....czech keyboard a bit confusing.....
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