7.22.2004
BONJOUR!
Arrived in Paris two days ago, delivered at last from the third world into the long comfortable arms of conspicuous consumption. After landing at the Charles DuGalle airport, I relaxed into the vision of airport as shopping mall, knowing it meant public toilets with paper, tap water you can drink, and streets that are free of feces and urine. But it also means first-world prices, which has us a little nervous.
+ + + + +
Yesterday we climbed the famed Eiffel tower at sunset, which doesn't come until 10 pm here. Up close the metal hull seemed more industry than myth and romance. Below on the lawn spectators sat with wine as if it were the 4th of july -- the tower sparkling and twinkling to eclipse the starry sky.
+ + + + +
Breakfast: 1€60 - 2 croissants et 1 cafe
Lunch on the Seine: poppy baguette, cammembert cheese, red pepper, red wine, chocolate beignet
+ + + + +
Musee D'Orsay was a dream: (some of) the West's finest paintings curated in a superb manner, in an inspired piece of architecture. A refurbished old train station: giant center hall under arched roof with early 19th c. sculpture charging down where the trains once pulled into station. First floor: pre-impressionists (sculpture alongside paintings); Second floor: Art Nouveau (including furnishings); Third floor: Impressionists and post-impressionists. Seeing what came just before and just after the featured Impressionists gave the historical context necessary to bring appreciation of these truly amazing works to another level. The brushwork, texture, color, content, is so much freer, expressive, wild, alive, than of their predecessors. My favorites: Odilon Redon, Toulouse Lautrec, Henri Rousseau, and of course, VanGogh.
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Dream of surfing a tidal wave that turned to ice and was scraped away by Zambonis
° ° °
Dream of the mechanical camel safari ride that was too short and cost too much
° ° °
Dream of thousands of miniature ducklings (the size of baby chicklets) which I scooped up by the handful to save them being stepped on
Arrived in Paris two days ago, delivered at last from the third world into the long comfortable arms of conspicuous consumption. After landing at the Charles DuGalle airport, I relaxed into the vision of airport as shopping mall, knowing it meant public toilets with paper, tap water you can drink, and streets that are free of feces and urine. But it also means first-world prices, which has us a little nervous.
+ + + + +
Yesterday we climbed the famed Eiffel tower at sunset, which doesn't come until 10 pm here. Up close the metal hull seemed more industry than myth and romance. Below on the lawn spectators sat with wine as if it were the 4th of july -- the tower sparkling and twinkling to eclipse the starry sky.
+ + + + +
Breakfast: 1€60 - 2 croissants et 1 cafe
Lunch on the Seine: poppy baguette, cammembert cheese, red pepper, red wine, chocolate beignet
+ + + + +
Musee D'Orsay was a dream: (some of) the West's finest paintings curated in a superb manner, in an inspired piece of architecture. A refurbished old train station: giant center hall under arched roof with early 19th c. sculpture charging down where the trains once pulled into station. First floor: pre-impressionists (sculpture alongside paintings); Second floor: Art Nouveau (including furnishings); Third floor: Impressionists and post-impressionists. Seeing what came just before and just after the featured Impressionists gave the historical context necessary to bring appreciation of these truly amazing works to another level. The brushwork, texture, color, content, is so much freer, expressive, wild, alive, than of their predecessors. My favorites: Odilon Redon, Toulouse Lautrec, Henri Rousseau, and of course, VanGogh.
+ + + + +
Dream of surfing a tidal wave that turned to ice and was scraped away by Zambonis
° ° °
Dream of the mechanical camel safari ride that was too short and cost too much
° ° °
Dream of thousands of miniature ducklings (the size of baby chicklets) which I scooped up by the handful to save them being stepped on
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