Good-bye Paris

Gotta go.

The madness of it all

I'm in a tailspin. We return to the States next Tuesday and are jamming and cramming in all that we can of what's left on the table. Yesterday's visit to the Palace of Versailles necessitated me staying up late last night brushing up on Marie Antoinette. I must say, my opinion of the her has changed. Clearly, in spite of the totally over the top, outrageous wealth and privilege she enjoyed, the lady was framed during the Reign of Terror. Even her 10 year-old son died a horrible death alone in a dark, filthy dungeon. At least Robespierre, the teabagger type lawyer/politician and one of the instigators of the Reign of Terror, eventually fell into the jaws of the guillotine. It was pure poetic justice that this coward's unsuccessful suicide attempt simply shattered his jaw. For a lawyer, not being able to have the last word is worse than death. The bastard's head was chopped off the next day by the same guillotine that decapitated Marie Antoinette.

Today we go to the Musée d'Orsay. I'm going crazy without downtime. We're out breakfast to bed. I'm drowning in photos. I can't catch a breath. I know. Luxury problem. March me to the guillotine. I'm not asking for sympathy. I'm just howling before launching into action. It's embarrassing. What can I say? It will pass. And, of course, I'm grateful for this fabulous opportunity, even though I've been lock step with my dear, (very) covertly insatiable mother-not-in-law and my darling beloved for two fucking months. Soon enough, my world will shrink back to the Bird Park and I will be writing about who came by for breakfast but today it's off to the d'Orsay. Wednesday is their late night so, of course, we'll be out late again.

Thankfully, there is a small reprieve on our departure so I actually have a bit of time to sit down here and write. Lucky all around. I really needed a little time off. I'll cut my fingernails on the way to the bus.

Photos du jour

PARIS STREET SCENES

Woman and flowers by Quai du Valmy

Homeless guys watching TV under bridge over the Seine.

Mimes along Quai de Valmy

Father and son bazar on Boulevard Barbès.
The son is out of sight but the father is seated inside.

Mannequins on Boulevard Barbès

Five-thousand six hundred and fifty-three

That's how many photos I've taken on this trip so far. 

Honey, you've got a problem.

Well, it's an estimate really because that number

Jesus!

does not include the ones I've deleted.

Get some help. Vous êtes lunatique, ma chérie!

Five thousand is not that many.

Home of forty to fifty-thousand books

There are way more books at the Abbey in the Latin Quarter.

Open mic night

The SpokenWordParis open poetry mic at Au Chat Noir last Monday was really excellent. I'm always an outsider at these things but I read whenever I can wherever I go and, in my opinion, the quality of writing at this event was among the best of any I've participated in. And the presentations were good. Even the poems read in other languages were interesting. And unlike London's Poetry Unplugged,which makes people pay a suck ass cover charge to read, SpokenWord Paris is free for all.

So, if you find yourself in Paris looking for a place to read, or listen, to poetry I highly recommend this event. Not only was the work excellent, but people were friendly and unpretentious. Our friend Karen enjoyed the evening, as did M. Lee which is saying something. Generally, to hear him talk, you'd think a rat had gnawed his earlobe off at one of these things.

I love this guy

May 19, 2012

European tour

I'm leaving in a few minutes for Au Chat Noir for the Spoken Word Paris open mic. It just occurred to me that tonight, combined with the five minute read I did at the Poetry Cafe in London, and now plus the five minutes tonight, in the world of poetry, this amounts to an official European tour. Okay then.

Free day

We finally saw the Paris everyone comes to see because yesterday was free day at the Louvre. It was jammed. The queue into the pyramid was about a mile long most of the day but, just so you know, there is another entrance. Through the underground mall. We walked right in. We did not go to see the Mona Lisa. We'll do that when it's less crowded. But we did see the "Old Guy" aka the Statue 'Ain Ghazal. My new favorite. A very cool guy, oldest in the Louvre, 9000 years old, on loan to the Museum for 30 years. Sorry. Out of time. Pictures to follow. M. Lee is about to assemble us for our trip to the Île de la Cité. Gotta go.

Venus de Milo

I googled Google images for Paris just now. They are nearly all of the Eiffel Tower. Of course, I photographed it anyway.

Night on rue Ordener

Last night outside my window.

Scènes de rue du jour

Forgive me if the French titles annoy you. I'm not trying to be chic. I was too lazy to study any French before we left the US, so this is my way of groping around the local vernacular. We haven't made it to the Paris pictured on postcards yet but, with no further adieu, I give you the street scenes of the day.

Graffiti art dog on rue Ordener

Most of the dogs I've seen in both London and Paris are small and, yes, in Paris I have already, in four short days, seen many French poodles. None in London. So this lovely Shepherd was a unique site.

Art connoisseur dog on rue Caulaincourt

Divan rouge de la rue Caulaincourt

Red couch on rue Caulaincourt

La lampe très rose à Paris

The very pink lamp in Paris

Paris

Once again, no measuring cups or spoons. Our London flat didn't have them either but we assumed Greg and Shareen just didn't cook at home. Their kitchen had all the amenities except measuring devices. But it's the same here. Is this a Euro thing? This is a great flat, four fire places, high ceilings, lots of huge windows, bright decor, hard wood floors, tiny balconies for potted plants. The kitchen is tiny but clever, Ikea style,  but no measuring cups or spoons. And no water glasses (plenty of wine glasses). A French thing? Already M. Lee is in deep withdrawal from London, "The best of all possible worlds", while Paris is "a pinched purgatory" so no measuring spoons is insult to injury. Plus, his mom went out early this morning for a nice fresh loaf of bread but nothing was open. We were shocked to see that business close so early and open so late. And to top it off, unlike London stunning multicultural cuisine, Paris seems to be a one-horse town for vegetarians.

My Paris corner

But hey! It's Paris and I'm half French. I'm feeling right at home. I woke up in a great mood. For whatever reason, my hands are much more limber here. In London I woke up with wooden claws affixed to the ends of my wrists. And I have set up a nice little corner base of operations which has a great view of the flat. A pigeon is roosting next door. And I saw a woman feeding birds in the train station. That would be a £500 fine in Trafalgar Square. Luckily, I did not get caught slipping the occasional bread crumb to the occasional bird. I realized, being forced into stealth mode, that pigeons take eye-contact to be an invitation to lunch.

So today, we're going out now in search of a natural food market. We had camembert cheese sandwiches for lunch. Such a desperate luxury.

Bonne journée Henri, mon petit ami en dépit de tout cela. (translation)




More Henri, if you can bare it.

Tooting Bec to Paris

Fond farewells in Tooting Bec.

Minerva, Ellie, Monkey Dude & Swami in Tooting Bec

We've come to regret bringing bikes on this trip.

Leaving London. Moving is a nightmare.

Home for the next five weeks.

In Europe, what we in the US call the 1st floor is called ground,
the 2nd is the 1st, the 3rd is the 2nd etc.

Elevator to the 3rd (or 4th) floor

John, this one's for you.

This is only half of the cheese selection at the grocery store

Lonesome George, RIP

So sorry, Lonesome George.

I really hate to see you go. Forever.

Swami

Swami at Tower of London

Poetry Unplugged

I finally got around to reading at Poetry Unplugged, the weekly open mic night at the Poetry Society's Poetry Cafe. Very good group. Friendly. Enthusiastic. Ten years running. London is a poetry friendly place. Once again, I think it's the difference in history. England has a grand history with some very great poetry while the US, well, we just don't have much history at all so, when it comes to poetry, not much to refer to or venerate. And West Coast poetry, especially Beat poetry which I inherited, was a lot about discovering there even was a world beyond America and protesting America's ignorance of it. Anyway, sadly not much time to write these days, even this blog. Time to hit the Tube, which does by the way, include poetry. Thank you London.

Napoleon's toothbrush

Napoleon and his beloved red toothbrush

In the way that ordinary items sometimes do if they happen to survive just long enough, one of Napoleon's toothbrushes has taken on a life of its own. But it is not in France. Like so many items of historical interest, it is in a British museum, in this case the Wellcome Collection where we were the other day. They call themselves "a free destination for the incurably curious" and that they are. It's a fabulous place.

As you might guess, in real life Napoleon preferred a silver handle.

Sadly, our time in London is quickly coming to an end though the trip is not over yet. Next Wednesday we move on to Paris for five weeks. I'm really going to miss London but at least the weather outlook is much better there than here. Small compensation but I'll take it.

The list so far

Merchants on Brick Lane

Here is M. Lee's list of places we've visited so far in London. Naturally, I've taken hundreds of photos a day along the way. Just the idea of sorting them out is exhausting. Sunday we went to Brick Lane in  Spitalfield, London's East End. Wild place. I loved it there. Today we went back to the V&A and the Darwin Center at the Natural History Museum. The place is also a research center. I had no idea. The Cocoon houses plant and insect collections that go back 400 years to the Museum's origins.

Graffiti w/ people, Brick Lane

"This isn't meant to be an exhaustive list and I've probably missed a thing or two, but here's where we've been in about 3.5 weeks. I'll start with Frommer's Top 15, of which we've visited the following.

British Museum (3 or 4 times by now)
Hampstead Heath on a rare sunny day about 2.5 weeks ago
Hampton Court Palace
Hyde Park once upon a time when there was sun
Imperial War Museum (in preparation for the Churchill War Rooms)
National Gallery (several times)
Natural History Museum incl. the Darwin Center & The Cocoon
Tate Modern (sort of hate modern art, for the most part, but some things were stunning)
Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) repeat visits

Not 3-star according to Frommer, but this list includes some pretty excellent stuff:

Windsor Castle (this brought out the inner princess in all of us)
The Mall
National Portrait Gallery
Kensington Palace
Ashmolean Museum in Oxford
Somerset House
Courtauld Gallery
National Portrait Gallery
Sir John Soane's Museum (unexpected hit, one of our faves)
Wallace Collection
Wellcome Collection
Trafalgar Square (hardly needs mentioning since it's inevitable)
Changing of the Horse Guard (more ceremony than Buckingham Guard, plus horses)
St.-Martin-in-the-Fields (mostly for the downstairs crypt cafe - you're having tea on top of the graves)
.Museum of London (again, an unexpected hit)
Museum of London Docklands (can't believe all these great museums and galleries are free)
Whitechapel Art Gallery (something had to disappoint, and this was it)
British Library (they no longer display a letter from young Elizabeth I which was half the reason I went)
Wimbledon Car Boot sale
Harrod’s
Oxford University Museum of Natural History
Portobello Market
Borough Market
Chinatown (four times so far)
Hamleys (massive upscale toy store) -L."

To which I add the Poetry Café and their Poetry Unplugged open mic night.

Happy monkey guy, Brick Lane, London

Kansas City Weirdness

First there was Roy the Redeemer, then this.  It's your week, Roy.

SubTropolis, Kansas City

I didn't know your hometown has one of the 10 weirdest urban ecosystems on earth. Or at least according to i09.

Kansas City native

Quite a distinction.
 (link via M. Lee)

Ps. Sorry, I forgot to mention the one detail which adds color to this otherwise halftone post. Ninety percent of the world's underground office space is in, or shall I say under, Kansas City. Thx M. 

Bedlam

I remember, especially on rainy days, my dad yelling, "You kids quiet down!!! It's bedlam in here!". We knew what he meant though we'd never heard of Bedlam even though it's been around since 1247. But we're going there today. Well, we're going to the original location of Bedlam. The hospital moved to its new location in the 1930s but, in a town where history goes back thousands of years, they'll be the new kids on the block for the next several hundred years. Until 1770, visitors to Bedlam could watch the lunatics through glass as a Victorian style freak show for the low low cost of one pence but no such show today. Lucky for me. Otherwise chances are I'd be in the show rather than watching it. Bedlam's old Gothic building is a museum now, and perhaps fittingly, London's War Museum which is, in my round about way of telling it, where we're going, the War Museum at the old Bedlam.

So, sorry if this is all too confusing. I'm out of time. We're headed out now and down the Tube. Sandwiches are packed, camera batteries charged and the sun is out but we're not fooled. M. Lee has counseled us to be prepared for rain. He's addicted to the hourly weather report which claims "rain at noon". It said the same thing yesterday but stayed dry and even a bit sunny all day. But it didn't fool M. As far as he was concerned, it might as well have been raining rats.

Windsor Castle w/ Happy Face

Windsor Castle, Middle Ward

I've totally failed to keep up with this trip. Traveling with M. Lee is like being in the army. Up early, eat the porridge then march into the Tube and away. Once again, it's too late to begin anything so here are a few photos. For now, I'll have to call that good.

Arrow slits, Middle Ward, Windsor Castle

Arrow slit close up

Perfunctory tourist shot

Windsor Castle, Upper Ward

Roy the Redeemer

One hundred foot Roy the Redeemer in the act of
Divinely Intervening above the white cliffs of Dover.

Hey Roy, here's one for you....compliments of Ireland’s biggest bookmaker, Paddy Power and the Metro, one of several free dailies read in the Tube. Have you been keeping something from us?

Article in London Metro.

Friday at the opera elevator

This morning we visited the home of London architect and collector Sir John Soane. It was turned museum upon his death at his bequest. Like Turner, he wanted to protect his fortune from greedy, conniving family members. Unlike Turner, he was successful. It has been a public museum since the early 19th century. Amazing place. I'm actually glad I hadn't applied for their (free) photographer's permit before going. The collection and home itself are so over the top. I would have taken way too many photos and really bogged myself down with editing. If you are ever in London, check it out. That is all.

Church across street from British Library.
How can anyone pretend that religion is not all about politics and power?

After the Soane , we went to the British Library. Their website describes the library as a "world-class cultural and intellectual resource that serves the needs of today’s researchers as well as being the custodian of the nation’s written and spoken heritage". We saw the Magna Carta, handwritten drafts by various famous authors such as William Blake, Shakespeare and Jane Austen to John Lennon's scribbled beginning for Hard Day's Night. No matter. M. Lee was extremely disappointed. The personal letter penned by Lillibet, Queen Elizabeth's name when she was a girl, had been rotated out of the displays.

After that, back to Harrods. Kathy wanted to buy a tin of cookies for a gift. A different opera singer was serenading customers on the elevator.

Another day, another museum

We're headed out in about 15 minutes so I only have time to post a few photos from yesterday, that beingTuesday. Wednesday we were at the British Museum where we finally made it to the mummy room. Of course that exhibit was packed. Photos from that later. So, have a great day. I'm off...into the rain and down the tube...

Down the tube and off and away

Inexplicable. Horse and  rider at Vauxhall Bridge

Tate Britain

JMW Turner, self-portrait at age 24

Turner wanted to leave the bulk of his portion to help poor painters but, after his death, his greedy conniving family members got it for themselves.

Ophelia by John Everett Millais.Big hair day at the Tate Britain. 

Inexplicable...man on the street