Paris Pt. 2- Children of Bohemia

When I was much younger, my dad and I would go to movies on Sundays at the little old movie theatre close to our house. We usually only saw kids movies but, on rare occasion, I would bend a little bit and would go see a movie that he actually wanted to see. In 2001, my dad told me that we were going to see a film called Moulin Rouge! directed by Baz Luhrmann, and I put up a fight. I really didn't want to see this movie. First of all, I'm pretty sure that we hadn't seen the most recent Disney movie, and I was seriously pushing for that. (Or maybe it was the new Rocky and Bullwinkle movie. Whatever, it was a long time ago) I had seen a trailer for this movie whose name I didn't understand (even though by that time I had already learned my french colors) and it looked quite frightening. All I knew about the film was that there were a lot of women wearing clown make up and lots of frilly and brightly colored underwear. But I lost.

As the story goes, I ended up loving it after watching the first five minutes of the film. Once I heard Ewan McGreggor's singing voice for the first time I was hooked. I couldn't stop thinking, "How did that come out of Obi-wan!?". The movie itself is exactly what it proclaims to be: a story about truth, beauty, freedom, and above all things love. In case you hadn't already noticed, I'm pushing for everyone who hasn't already seen this cult classic to put down whatever they're doing, even if they are reading this blog, to go and watch it right now. I'm pretty sure all of you American readers can get it from the five dollar bin at Wal-Mart or for free on your netflix subscriptions. After I saw the movie, my dad went out and bought the soundtrack and made my mom watch it, too. I probably listened to that CD a minimum of 83 times that year, but since then my obsession has kind of waned. When I first met Emily Wilkes and she told me that it was her favorite film, we watched it again, and I was reminded that it's a movie that I will love until my dying day.

When I reflect, I kind of feel as though I live my life as though it were centered around those four principles. As a young person in a foreign country with a student visa, it seems as though nothing else matters more than just seeing everything you can possibly see, thinking about the way that people see things and do the things that they do, and doing it while spending the least amount of money as possible. That's what this weekend was. About a month ago, Keith and I booked tickets to Paris for this weekend expecting to see some familiar faces. Awkwardly enough, we happened to have a really big test that day (the test that makes us certified french speakers) so we had to figure out how to change the tickets and all of that jazz. Good news: All of the Davidson students passed! Whoopee! Sad news: We didn't end up finding all of the Americans we wanted to find. But that's ok. I'm sure that all of them had super fun weeks in France, and we will see all of them before we even know it.

So, we ended up just soaking up the city in the best way we know how to: following our noses. Friday night, Keith and I started by hanging out at the Notre Dame for a while. Then we decided we were hungry and wandered around the Latin Quarter until we stumbled upon an Italian restaurant with Asian waiters that spoke french. We got spaghetti and escargot (snails).

Then we just walked. We saw the beacon of the Eiffel Tower, and eventually it got to the point where we were so close that we had to make it to the base. So we did. Turns out, there is this really quaint playground on one side of the tower that is pretty deserted at night.

Yeah, we live young and wild and free.

It's pretty cool the stuff you can find if you just, you know, go. In our search for the Eiffel Tower, we stumbled onto a familiar street and realized it was the same street we had to find on our city scavenger hunt the last time. We found the fountain and the old church, but alas, no mimes yet.

The second day, Keith and I (finally) found Paisley at the Louvre. Turns out, with a student visa you can get in for free. We took glances at the really touristy stuff, but mostly hung out in the less crowded wings looking at old sculptures and  18th/19th century french art. All to find this guy:

We found some pretty paintings and also the Louvre's take on modern art.
I thought Paisley looked really pretty in this light:

We then decided to walk around and find lunch. We ended up on Ile St. Louis and I saw some familiar sights, including the really cool marionette shop and the place where the Payton group ate lunch.

Now Humes Heroes and Heroines, this next story is for you. As we were making our way to the back of the Notre Dame taking a nice little sidestreet, we passed a bunch of similar looking apartment buildings. Keith and Paisley walk a lot quicker than I do, so as I was looking ahead to estimate how much energy it would require to catch up to them, I noticed this sign on one of the walls:

Yes, we came upon the former dwelling of the infamous Abelard and Heloise, the writers of those love letters we read last spring. For those of you that haven't read these letters, A professor and his student began an amorous relationship, got caught, and had the girl sent to a nunnery. (Maybe I'm mistaken because I don't really remember how it went, and I didn't read it all that well, but didn't Abelard also get castrated?) It was an amusing read, and if you're into old books, I guess you could pick it up. Anyway, I called out to Paisley, who is also a Humes veteran, and we reveled in the acquisition of such a treasure. Too bad we both put our books in the book donation boxes after our second semester. The stuff you find in Paris...

At this point, we were trying to arrange our day so that we could find the long awaited Davidson Spring Break Trip Group later that evening, so we decided, much to my excitement, to make the trip to the infamous Montmartre: the home of the Moulin Rouge! Ever since I saw the movie for the first time, I've wanted to set eyes on the notorious night club, and after two trips to Paris, I hadn't gotten the chance. The neighborhood of Montmartre is in the northern part of the city and on this large hill, so it hadn't ever been accessible in our allotted amount of time.

So we went up the hill and got a chance to climb some really intense stairs. Keith and Paisley were fine, and I got a great work out. Now, the thirteenth track of the first Moulin Rouge(!) soundtrack is entitled La Complainte de la Butte (which I have provided above), and after over six years of studying this language, I still had no idea what it meant. However, as we climbed the stairs to the Sacre Coeur and wandered around the streets of the bohemian neighborhood, Paisley and I finally understood what "Les escaliers de la Butte" actually meant.

The lyrics go:

The stairways up to la butte
Can make the wretched sigh
While windmill wings of the Moulin
shelter you and I 

I guess I'm wretched. We found out that the top of the hill is the Butte and I sighed all the way up and down. As of now, Rufus Wainright's accent is still a little to unintelligible for my french ear, but now that I have gazed upon all of the city at once with my own eyes, I am a little closer to comprehending what he is trying to say. 

We searched for a while and stopped at a chic little cafe to people watch, but we still couldn't find the red windmill. We looked at bus maps, and I got unsettled because I had no idea where I was. We walked in between two cemeteries, turned a corner and BAM, there it was. I had finally seen it. 

I gazed upon the setting of the only vaguely real fairytale of my childhood and I felt a little part of myself wash away. There was no giant Elephant and the Moulin itself wasn't bright and enticing. After a few seconds of looking at it however, I realized that what made this place so magical in its hayday wasn't the structure, but the people inside of it. Back at the second to last turn of the century, the beauty of the free people there inspired artists like Toulouse Lautrec  to paint the things he did. This is what the Moulin Rouge looked like yesterday:

 But this is how I will always remember it:

Poster for Moulin Rouge! 2001, 20th Century Fox

The only thing that got me down was that there was no hotel across the street. It either disappeared a long time ago, or never existed. I'd like to think that it did, so the place where Christian wrote his heartfelt story is now either a Buffalo Bills (an American themed restaurant) or a giant Monoprix (french target equivalent).
I have been listening to the soundtrack on repeat for the 4th time now to help me digest what I saw and how I'm dealing with it.  I decided yesterday that after I become the President of Davidson College at age 55, I will return to Paris and visit the Moulin Rouge again. It will be 2048, almost 150 years since its opening, and at that time I will eat dinner and see a show there, for as a penniless sitar player student there is no way in my wildest dreams that I can possibly afford it now.

Until then, as a child of bohemian ideals, I will find inspiration and beauty elsewhere.

We continued to walk and take metro trains and eventually we ended up on the Champs-Elysses, Paris' famous shopping street. There, we ran into some crazy people, ate same cheap sandwhiches and went to the Disney store! By chance, we ran into Keith's high school friend Danielle at this really swank Marriot. We then walked along the Seine for a few hours partly hoping to run into the Davidson Group (We were wearing our Davidson apparel so that we could possibly catch their attention from afar).

Paris never ceases to amaze me.

Today, we ended our weekend by sleeping in and walking to the Montparnasse train station from our suburban hotel. It only took an hour and we saw a cool market on the way.

Also, we have now taken a train from Paris to Tours four times now and our tickets have never been checked.

Coincidence?

Just telling ya'll now, though I have been really good at posting blogs this month, I probably won't write another one until right before the second half of our spring break trip starts, or maybe not until after, putting the third blog post of march at the end of the month. Until then, I wish all of my family and friends (and families of friends and friends of family) well! Though I have managed to extend Pierre's life by just a little bit, my Davidson email is acting like a fool, so though I can read email, it's not letting me respond. Think about it like this: at least I don't have to type up my story with a typewriter.

Bissoux,

Traveling Q

P.S: I would also like Briana Kordsmeier to know that today my host mom made this really sick dessert that involved cream, crushed cookies, and rhubbarb. It tasted like Commons' fruit of the forest pie, and made me think of you.