I wanted to call this blog “An American in Paris”, because that’s what I am, but that would only work if it hadn’t also been done by every single American visiting Paris since Gene Kelly first tap-danced down a “Paris” street. So I did some looking around and instead named it after a quote by Jeanine Basinger: “In the movies Paris is designed as a backdrop for only three things—love, fashion shows, and revolution.”
And here’s how this happened: Chas. Maybe it was just a passing suggestion, but it stuck in my head, and now I’ve become “the girl with the camera”, when I never used one at home. But this, this is actually very good: it serves the purpose of keeping a journal for myself, it means that my family and friends can see things as they happen, it organizes my pictures, and you don't have to read it, PLUS it isn’t depositing itself in your inbox every day/week/month, taking up space and detailing things you don’t care about done by people you don’t know. This is just the interesting stuff. Plus pictures.
Which, actually, started right away. I arrived Sunday, carting a purse, my messenger bag, and two enormous (and, as I later found out, soaked – my copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day is ruined) suitcases from the airport to the bus to the metro. Almost the entire way I was lamenting that I’d been too cheap to take a taxi (you think I’m going to spend 50 Euro on that when there are more interesting things to buy?), but actually, in the end, I didn’t really care. Because the metro station where the bus dropped us off? Was literally across the street from the Arc de Triomphe. I was crossing a sidestreet, gawking at this huge landmark, surrounded by fluttering pigeons, and stumbling over cobblestones when it hit me: I’m in Paris.
I’d’ve gone straight over, but, as I said, my suitcases combined weighed over 100 pounds, so no thanks. I (with the assistance of a few kind strangers) dragged my suitcases down the stairs to the metro, finally bought a ticket and got on, and thanked every god there ever was that there was a seat and room for my suitcases and that I didn’t have to change trains. And then, there was the Eiffel Tower, right outside my window. I almost dug out my camera right then, but there is nothing more touristy than taking pictures through the metro windows (while carrying two suitcases, no less). So I’ll go back. Preferably at night.
But the thing about Paris is, these huge international landmarks are just scattered throughout the city, and the city does nothing to rearrange itself for them. Life goes on around them, every day, and people walk to work past the Arc de Triomphe and ride the metro past the Eiffel Tower and don’t think anything of it. In the US, our biggest landmarks require a trek to get to, whether it’s the Grand Canyon out in the middle of nowhere or the Statue of Liberty on an island in New York.
Today, I went to look at an apartment a few blocks away from the Bastille and also Victor Hugo’s home. It was an interesting district: half of it was extraordinarily touristy, from a restaurant called the Indiana (with English signs in the windows) to the actual tours winding through the streets (you can tell them by the video cameras), and half of it was intended for the residents, little cheese shops, fruit stands, wine shops. There was one I couldn’t decide on: an old man sitting in one of those stone archways you get when you pass under a building to a courtyard, singing in an absolutely beautiful voice and playing the violin. I wish I’d gotten a picture of him. But I did get pictures of the statue of Louis XIII in the Place des Vosges (another internationally-known park which I stumbled into), and one of the fountains and a bit of the buildings surrounding it:
I also, in a shop on Rue Saint-Antoine, found a Rutgers sweatshirt. Now this may be like we have Oxford (and Paris and Rome) clothes available in the US, but Rutgers? I wouldn’t really have been surprised had it been Yale.
Here’s the Colonne de Juillet in the center of the roundabout at the Place de Bastille. It’s dedicated to the citizens of Paris who lost their lives in the Revolution, specifically those who stormed the Bastille (a phrase which I’ve always loved. No other place is so consistently described as having been “stormed”, and it’s not a word you can use seriously without grinning, even when talking about the Bastille).
I didn’t actually get to the Bastille. I wandered around a bit looking for it, but that place is overwhelmingly busy with tourists and with the French, and I wasn’t French but wasn’t quite a tourist (looking for an apartment, I tell you!), so I felt uncomfortable and alone. I’ll have to go another time with people from the program.
Coming up: Musee d'Orsay, l'Arc de Triomphe, and Pope Madness. That's right, the Pope was in Paris. I didn't get to see him, though, disappointingly.
Also, notice: I'm kind of way behind on these things, because the Internet at the FIAP where I'm staying is kind of terrible and simultaneously expensive. So I'm writing these at night and posting them (for the most part) during the day, using free wireless at the Brown-in-France office. So for at least a little while, these posts won't quite correspond to my actual life, but I'm hoping to catch up soon.
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