Paris: Now I get it.

Paris is romantic, elegant, grey, creative and it is seemingly always raining.

The Champs-Élysées and The Eiffel Tower from the top of The Arc De Triomphe.

Do you know someone who has been to Paris? In my experience they all act the same way. If Paris is brought up in a conversation they suddenly look wistfully off in the distance and sigh. ‘Oh Paris’, they may say, ‘take me back’ or something similar and then they go so glassy eyed that you wonder if they can hear you in there. I always knew Paris had charm and allure, romance and all those special factors that make it a great city of the of the world. I guess I never understood quite how special the place is. Now I get it, I understand the people who stare of into the distance because now, I am enamored with Paris too. The romance, elegance, creativity and style of the city have always appealed to me. It’s one of the reasons I have always wanted to go to come here. Like Rome, I felt I knew Paris before I had arrived through Rick’s heartbreak with Elsa in ‘Casablanca’ (we’ll always have Paris), the high kicking antics of the can-can girls in ‘Moulin Rouge’ and through reading Hemingway’s musings on the city in ‘A Movable Feast’. In real life, Paris does not disappoint. It is all the movie and book fantasies and so much more.

The Eiffel Tower.

 

We have been lucky enough to have a total of 9 days in Paris. 7 before our Belgian Groezrock music festival adventure and 2 afterwards. The time has been jammed packed with sight seeing, day trips and wandering from right bank to left and back again. So I have a lot to write about. Our Parisian adventure started with doing what Parisians do best: walking. In our first week we were staying in the east of the city, near Place de la République. A bustling, multicultural part of the city, littered with eateries, cinemas and theaters, Getting around has been relatively easy; the metro system is not to hard to figure out and was a good way for us to stay out the rain. Walking south-west to the Seine was filled with classic sights, Notre Dame cathedral, sans hunchback; the love lock bridge Pont de l’Archeveche, where lovers in Paris mark their visits by putting a lock on the bridge and throwing away the key; The Shakespeare and Company bookshop, an English bookshop that’s claim to fame is that it houses writers and was the haunt of Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce in the 1920s. The Louvre and it’s Jardins de Tuileries, Place de la Concorde, where victims of the guillotine, like Louis XVI, were executed; The Pont Alexandre, an amazing bridge with gold and bronze statues; Champs-Élysées and it’s Arc De Triomphe; and of course the stunning Eiffel Tower. We were able to climb the arc, which although only 50 meters high, still gives a stunning view down the Champs-Élysées and over to the tower. Post-Groezrock, The last 2 days of our trip were spent on the canal, in the further northeast from our home at République. From here it was an easy metro ride to the famous cemetery the Pere Lachaise, where I went to pay my respects to Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Jim Morrison and Chopin, amongst others and to Parc des Buttes Chaumont, home to an enormous artificial lake and waterfall, the 19th century Temple de la Sibylleto set upon a man-made cliff and hundreds on sunbathing Parisians. Well, I guess it was the first day of sun in a week. Just walking through the streets and seeing these famous sights was a special experience. History is everywhere. Delicious food, although expensive, is in abundance. Bolangerie trips were always fruitful for baguettes, tarts, quiches and macarons.  Paris is a grey city; on any other occasion this would make for a place that looks horrible, however, possibly through witchcraft, Paris is grey but it’s not dull or boring. The buildings look so perfectly French. It’s beautiful.

The Louvre.

Our visit to The Louvre was a 6-and-a-half hour affair on a (surprise, surprise) rainy Tuesday afternoon. Firstly, the place looks stunning. The building was a fort, then a palace, then a gallery and parts of it have existed since medieval times. From the outside the old building mixed with the much maligned glass pyramid is simply gorgeous. I love the mix of the old and new styles and staring up through the glass to the sky is amazing. Inside the gallery is madness. 3 wings, 4 levels and people everywhere. Prams running over your toes, tour groups with no concept of how to stand to the side, signs warning of pick-pockets and unsavoury types and of course the amazing art. A very large Ancient Egypt collection started our day and we finished it with artifacts from all over the ancient world, classic and modern sculptures and of course, paintings. There is so much to see, we attempted it all, but fell a little short when sheer exhaustion and art overload set in. The Louvre, of course, is the famous home of many masterpieces, like the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa. Around the Venus de Milo it was hard to see as the crowd was so huge; but this was nothing compared to the world’s most famous portrait, The Mona Lisa. She had a crowd 10 people deep encircling her. The free-for-all of pushing and shoving to get the best picture (including the work of one charming lady, who managed to both hit me with her hip and elbow in two swift motions all in aid of her perfect shot) took away from the experience. But that’s ok, I’ll admit now, although the work is famous, it’s most certainly not my favourite. Beside these busy sections, seeing most of the gallery meant we got to have quiet moments in the Louvre, which seemed impossible around Mona and Venus. A highly recommend spending time in the sculpture courts, which were quiet and beautiful. The Louvre is a marvel of architecture and the collection is outstanding. The famous works are only a small part of that.

Mad about Mona.

We climbed to the top of Paris’s bohemian heart, Montmarte. An interesting mix of outrageous tourism, poverty and history. On top of the hill is the church Sacré-Cœur, which looks down over the city. A beautiful church with domes and spires all in white. Some of the most entusisatic vendors of the trip can be found here, selling bracelets on the steps walking up to the church. One of them grabbed on to my coat and wouldn’t let go. I dragged him along side me as I walked until he got the picture. Once up the top of the hill, the view was stunning. Around the corner from here, galleries, restaurants and old style buildings harking back to the days when this section of Paris was a bohemian artist’s paradise. We wandered until we hit the Moulin Rouge. An underwhemling sight to say the least. Baz Luhrmann did a good job of making it look much more impressive than it actually is.  The famous red windmill did not impress. It is a minimum 100 Euro to attend a show here. Even with all of the kitschy charm it promises, I couldn’t justify the price. Plus, no guarantee of Nicole Kidman swinging from the roof also turned me off.

A rainy day at Sacré-Cœur.

Outside of Montmarte we were able to spend some time in other areas of the city appreciating the artistic spirit of Paris. Of course, the creativity of the city can be found in obvious places, like it’s museums and galleries, but we found it in unexpected places too. In the train station Saint Lazare there was an upright piano sitting on the upper level. As we left on the train in the morning, a man was playing soulful tunes on it while a small group watched. when we returned in the afternoon another man was playing the piano, while another beat boxed and the other rapped over the top. France is famous for it’s films. We were able to go to a lovely independent cinema called ‘Le Brady’ and watch a film. There was 1 man running the box office, projection and candy bar and he clearly loved his job. In addition to this we must have seen over 10 fashion shoots happening in the streets of Paris. pretty young things in high fashion gear posing for photographers in choice locations, like on bridges, in front of the Eiffel Tower and in the parks and gardens of the city.

Having so long in Paris meant we were also able to do a couple of day trips and excursions. At the risk of this blog becoming the biggest thing in the world, I’ve posted about our trip to Monet’s garden at Giverny here and our visit to the royal palace at Versailles here.  Speaking of day trips, One of our days was spent at Parc Asterix, a theme park dedicated to the comic character Asterix and his big boned friend, Obliex. I must confess besides having heard of the characters before, I really didn’t know anything about the comics. My partner in crime assures me they were the only comics in the his primary school library and unfortunately for him, they weren’t very good, but I digress. It seems Asterix works better as a theme park than a comic. The roller-coasters, rides, dolphin show and even the food are broken up into ancient civilizations, a place for Egypt, for Gaul, for Rome, for Greece etc. The rides are fast and furious and therefore I spent much of the day feeling a little nauseous, but miraculously recovered for some delicious theme park ice cream. I’m a real trooper. The old wooden roller-coaster in the Greek section called “Zeus” was my favourite, the drops were huge, it went much faster than I expected and I felt some genuine terror. Other than that, old favourites like the log flume, the pirate ship and the chute coaster were fun too. By all accounts, Parc Asterix has suffered since the opening of Disneyland Paris, but the crowd was still decent. The perfect size, actually, not so many you’re lining up for hours, but just enough that the screaming on the coasters is loud enough to strike fear in your heart.

Parc Asterix.

Our time in Paris has proven stereotypes of Parisians as arrogant and rude to be utterly wrong. Kind Parisians were everywhere, helping us and making conversation. A woman saw us struggling at the laundromat and walked us through the process of using the machines, all in French, but in an easy to understand way with hand gestures and movement. We didn’t ask her for help, she just did it. A man who sold us the best crepes I have every eaten and who also did not speak any English managed to create several jokes at my partner in crime’s expense without ever seeing rude, only jovial and kind. Shopkeepers at many places all made conversation and were kind, considerate and even complimentary of my French (which was clearly just them being kind). There are too many people to mention in this blog, actually. The only funny thing was that in our conversations they almost always brought up how rude Parisians are; all while being kind and considerate themselves. Go figure.

Metro station.

So the next time Paris comes up in conversations, you’ll be able to pick me, I’l have a big grin on my face, a glassy-eyed expression and be sighing “oh Paris”. I get it now, because now I get it; I too have been and fallen in love with Paris.

Day tripping: Versailles

The royal palace at Versailles is billed as a must see for any trip to Paris. As you approach the gates, past the statue of the ‘Sun King’, Louis XIV, you see that the place is covered in gold. It glimmers under the sun. The opulence is obvious from the outset and only gets more ridiculous when you get inside.

The Sun King, Louis XIV.

Speaking of getting inside, the line was so massive that we were in it for over an hour and a half, even with pre-paid tickets. When we went inside the palace the shuffling and lining up continued. Don’t get me wrong, I like people (this may or may not be true), but being around them in a space like this is frustrating to say the least. A place like Versailles, just like the Louvre or the Vatican brings out the worst in people, including me. We shuffled from room to room, views were disrupted with cameras and it was impossible to get to the signs to see what the rooms actually were. It was frustrating and unfortunately it took away from the experience. But even with the huge crowd you could not miss the fact that the items and rooms on display were opulent, beautiful and gold-plated. As you went from ‘salon’ to ‘salon’ the roof in most rooms was painted with an amazing scene and the cornices and ceiling roses were painted, of course, in gold. Several massive chandeliers hung in each room. Art and copies of famous works hung in every room, royal portraits, historical paintings, sculptures and busts adorn the walls, shelves and tables. The hall of mirrors was even more grand than I had imagined. It had all of these features and more. The scale of the wealth was ridiculous. No wonder the people rebelled. But possibly more interesting than that is the fact that it survived the revolution, I would have thought that something so powerful and symbolic of the regime would be lost, but I guess you should not underestimate greed.

Inside Versailles.

Once outside of the palace Versailles is more spacious, but still just as opulent. The large gardens can be enjoyed by many and it’s hedges, trees, statures, fountains and canal are breath-taking. It is vast and extremely well-maintained. Entrance to the gardens is free so many families spend the afternoon picnicking there. You can hire a bike, a golf buggy or take a ‘train’ if you don’t wish to brave the long walk from one side to the other. We walked down to Napoleon’s pink marble palace The Grand Trianon in the back of the gardens and to Marie Antoinette’s house and farm that she had built in the 1780s so she could play peasant. These areas were fascinating and because they were less crowded, much more enjoyable. The farm was my favourite part. The small houses were built by the same architect were for a fantasy so their structure and style was interesting. There are also a range of animals to pat and more cat fish than I have ever seen swimming in it’s lake. Marie Antoinette is the star of the show at Versailles. There are gift shops dedicated entirely to her and sell bags, fans and coffee mugs with her image on them all in pink, of course. Having studied the French revolution at school I found this hilariously ironic, considering how hated she was during her reign. Now she is an icon and people are more interested in her story, her farm and little house than anything else at Versailles.

The gardens.

There was lots of construction work going on, so some areas were not easily accessible or open. This was ok, as it didn’t take away from the visit. The people who run Versailles have set it out so that it is easy to navigate and have it so well maintained that barely a blade of grass is out of place.

Marie Antoinette’s ‘English Garden’ from her residence, the Petite Trianon.

Versaille was a must-see, but unfortunately for me it was too busy to be enjoyed properly. The over-the-top opulence was also difficult to swallow when you understand the symbolism of the palace. It was amazing to be in a place that I had read so much about, I just wish it was with about half of the people who had decided to go to Versailles on that Wednesday morning!

Day tripping: Giverny.

Giverny is a small village in Normandy that is famously the home to Monet’s garden; the ‘backyard’ he designed himself to be his subject matter. Aspects of the space are the inspiration of many of his most popular works. I’ve been wanting to visit Monet’s garden at Giverny for a long time. I studied the impressionists as a wide-eyed 10 year old, and although Degas was my favourite (and what 10 year old girl wouldn’t love him? He painted my favourite things, ballerinas and ponies), I was always very interested in Monet; I find his realistic style and the subsequent fading of it fascinating. I love the way he understands light. Maybe I didn’t understand why I liked that as a 10 year old, but I get it now. 18 years later I was able to see many of his greatest paintings at an exhibition in Melbourne called ‘Monet’s Garden’;  no prizes for guessing the subject matter. The exhibition showcased many of his works, but the focus was on the garden as his inspiration. I loved the exhibition and I knew that if it was possible I would love to see where the genius found his stimulus.

Some of the colours of Monet’s garden.

The day began with a train ride from Paris to the Normandy town of Vernon. From here it is 5ks to Giverny.  Shunning the tourist shuttle bus, we hired a bike and after my partner in crime taught me to stay upright and turn right (something that has alluded me since the late 90s) in the train station car park, we rode on the old railway line through beautiful French country-side.  Cows, hills and tiny houses under a grey sky made for a beautiful picture. It was a relaxing ride despite my constant fear of running over small children and animals.

Along the bike path.

Once you are in Giverny it is quickly apparent that there is not much going on, except Monet-related tourism. The epicentre of the town is Monet’s house and garden which is on ‘Rue de Claude Monet’, the fancy French way of saying Claude Monet street. Again proving my theory that everything sounds better in French. Along the street are small art galleries that sell works from artists who have come to the town to be inspired, cafés, a gallery dedicated to impressionism (I’ll get to that later) and of course, the house and garden itself.

Our bikes in Giverny.

Stepping into Monet’s garden is like walking into one of his paintings. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the only way I can think of to describe the overwhelming mish-mash of bright colours you see and the way the light and shadow reflects on the water. The garden beds are awash with colours. Sometimes, like-tones can be found, like a range of purples and pinks or reds and oranges will be in the same bed. In other cases there are spaces where there is a rainbow of colours in an area. The famous waterlily pond and Japanese bridge can be accessed by a tunnel under the road that was clearly a bit quieter in Monet’s time. Monet spent a lot of his time studying this area and the garden here was the muse for a range of amazing works. The beauty of the spot is incredible, especially when the sun shines down and the reflection shines up from the water. It is a strange phenomenon being in a place you’ve seen so many times in photos, it is stranger to be somewhere you’ve only seen in paintings. Here, you can pick out even the smallest pockets of the garden that were used in Monet’s works, which is a special thing to be able to say. The waterlilies were not out, but it didn’t really matter. The garden still managed to dazzle the senses.

Lilies and bridges.

The house itself housed many pieces of art. Some of Monet’s works hung on the walls of his study and his extensive Japanese print collection hung everywhere else. The foundation that maintains the house has tried to leave as much of it in place as possible to reflect how it looked when Monet lived there. There is evidence of that from a small photo on display in the house of Monet in his kitchen in front of 4 vases all lined up on the mantle with prints of all shapes and sizes hanging above it. When you enter the kitchen those 4 vases are still sitting on the mantle and those same prints are hanging above it. It was a nice touch.

Monet’s house.

A short walk up the road from the garden there is a gallery dedicated to impressionism. Although there are some interesting works there, including a great temporary exhibition on the birth of impressionism in America, there is only about 30 minutes of gallery to explore. There was also only 4 Monet pieces; even the room named after him had only one of his works in there.  It was not as fulfilling as I would have liked.

The trip to and from Vernon on the train was easy, the bike ride was a fun (and after the disaster that was trying to ride in Barcelona, a personal triumph) and above all Monet’s garden was as pretty as a picture. Literally.