Froeliche Weihnachten

Hi, everyone. Heather and I are back from Paris, and right now we're kind of recovering and being awesome. It's Christmas Eve (for us), so we're just taking it easy and enjoying the silence of an (increasingly unwelcoming) empty house.

Paris was splendid, actually. I've noticed that many people don't particularly care for the city, and for good reasons, too. However, I found myself drawn to it, partially because of they city's history, but also because...I don't know. It felt interesting.

Getting there was a huge pain, though. Evidently, Deutsche Bahn will not function properly when I travel. Every train we took had a delay--and we ended up missing our original train to Paris from Frankfurt am Main because our middle train was so late. So, we ended up having to wait for about two hours for the next train, where we didn't have seat reservations... But! We got there relatively safely and were determined to make it a good trip, despite the travel difficulty.

Our first day in Paris consisted of touring the Louvre, which was, in all honesty, as awesome as art enthusiasts say it is (if you're into paintings of Jesus, Mary, and boobs). I saw so many artists and particular works that I've been wanting to see: Vermeer's The Lacemaker, Watteau's Gilles, Ingres, da Vinci (yeah, I saw the Mona Lisa, yay), van Eyck, Rembrandt, Rubens (Medici Room!), Boucher, Delacroix, among others. After the museum (which took much longer than anticipated to find a frickin' exit, of all things), we putzed around the Seine and crossed the river to scope what was on the other side, but we, being tired awesome people, called it an early night and departed to our hotel.

Let me sidetrack a bit and describe our hotel room: Small. The End.

Our second day of awesomeness in Paris began with a tour of Gustave Moreau's house, a French painter of Neo-classical influences who eventually turned to the Symbolist style (and later Crazy Floating Head style). I had actually never heard of Moreau before Heather's suggested going to this museum, but I'm glad that I now know of him and his works. Plus, as his mental state deteriorated, he collected (er, hoarded) many objects and prepared a room just for his unrequited love...you know, just in case she decided to one day arrive. But, what was very interesting to me were the artist's works. Moreau's painting are quite vivid, especially in color. Photographs of paintings never do the works justice. It was also really neat to view Moreau's sketches, as they document the stages of the artist's work. Quite a nifty experience, and I highly recommend going to this museum.

We then trekked across the Seine to see Notre Dame, and I was very good not to burst into song from Disney's interpretation of Hugo's novel, partially because I don't know the lyrics to the soundtrack. Its tourist factor, though expected, was still disappointing, as it just cancels out the purpose for these holy house things of worship. Though I don't follow any religious sect, I enjoy visiting cathedrals for their historical value and architecture, but Notre Dame has been the only cathedral that was just too...crowded for my taste. Regardless, I'm very glad that I have now seen Notre Dame, for curiosity's sake and for the fact that I've now seen yet another vital part of history.

However, quite possibly the most fun I had that day was doing what people going to big cities are wont to do: shopping. But, not just any shopping. Book shopping. Yes, Heather and I spent lots of time (and some money) in...Shakespeare and Company, an American-owned Parisian bookstore that sells English books. The atmosphere of this store is a bit difficult to accurately explain, but the walls are lined with as many books, old and new, as humanly possible to squeeze into such small spaces. There are old chairs here and there for leisurely reading, along with random Shakespeare quotes over the doorways for people to read. Upstairs presents even more books, though the bulk of those are not for sale, but solely for reading. As a result, a reading room is offered, but the neat thing here is that the owners are willing to negotiate with you if you really want one such book. The second story also boasts a piano and a most awesome typewriter (for writing, you know, your own masterpieces). I found a copy of Melville's Benito Cereno (my favorite Melville), an 1825 version of a volume of Lord Byron's works, and a rather old version of Pope's works as well. I left feeling rather content.

After wandering enough to find ourselves in the Latin Quarter and doing more shopping stuff (and having actual French crepes), we prepared for our third and last day of roaming the streets of Paris, which consisted of art, parks, and Christmas markets.

Museé d'Orsay is quite a magnificent museum, but with at least one problem: the galleries are too small for the amount of people wanting to view Manet, Monet, van Gogh, Gaugin, Degas, Renoir, and others. Seriously. d'Orsay is now an art museum, yes--but its initial use was as a train station. You can imagine the kinds of spacial problems we have here, considering that the museum hosts a ridiculous number of famous works (and even more famous artists). That being said, it is an impressive museum. I have now seen Manet's (another favorite of mine) Luncheon on the Grass and Olympia. My life is kind of complete. It was worth waiting in a long line for entry, noticing some odd European fashion sense.

Afterward, we detoured through the park at the Louvre (a muddy mess at this time of year, unfortunately), past the giant Ferris wheel erected for Christmas, and toured the Christmas market in Paris long enough to decide that Celle's Weihnachtsmarkt is actually infinitely more charming. All of this, however, was on the way to the Arc de Triomphe and the Avenue Champs-Élysées. Though I'm glad to have seen the Arc and Champs-Élysées, they were probably the least awe-inspiring: the Arc is...an arch, and the avenue made me feel poor (though Ladureé was cool, though too crowded). Heather and I returned to our hotel area, bought a bunch of French pastries, and made a night of it, watching bad French/hotel television.

Hot Fuzz in French, by the way, is a bit amusing.

Not wanting to leave so soon, we returned to Celle yesterday and are now where we were at the beginning of this post. I'm glad I have positive memories of Paris, not excluding experiencing it with my friend...my Hooker. Froeliche Weihnachten an Alle.