I Am So Over Paris
So I've done a lot of things, to the point that I'm not sure what to do with the remainder of my time here. I'm sure I'll think of something. Anyway, here's a quick litany of things I've done from Saturday morning through last night (Wednesday), so you can skim ahead to anything that particularly interests you.

• Catacombes
  
• Chez Papa
  
• Cimitière Montparnasse
  
• Jardin du Luxembourg
  
• Panthéon
  
• Jardin des Plantes
  
• Pain, Vin, Fromage
  
• Hanging out with Mosh's classmates
  
• Musée Rodin
  
• Fresh ravioli
  
• Centre Pompidou
  
• Musée de Cluny
  
• Hanging out with Mosh's classmates
  
• Parc André Citroën
  
• Parc Monceau
  
• Bangkok Café
  
• Louvre
  
• Hanging out with Michael

On Saturday, Mosh had class from noon to 6pm, so we only had the morning to spend. We spent it at the Catacombes, which I have wanted to see since backpacking through Paris in 2000. We didn't get to see it then. But this time I did, and they were perfectly creepy. After going down an impossibly long spiral staircase (you can't see how far down they go, so it's easy to get dizzy while watching the few steps ahead of you), there is a long, damp corridor. The walls are made of stone, but it's still kind of oog-y. And part of it was that the ceiling was low enough to make me feel like I had to stoop down, even though I didn't necessarily have to. Anyway, you eventually get to the section of bones, where everything is geometrically arranged. Most of the walls are stacks upon stacks of large bones. Ulnas, maybe? Or is it femurs? They seemed the size of what I'd expect leg bones to be. And within these bones, skulls protrude, sometimes forming a long row, sometimes forming shapes. Mosh said she saw them in the shape of a heart. The bones were all displaced from the St-Innocents cemetary, which was causing sanitation/health problems for a nearby neighborhood. Mosh has a picture of me "about to" lick one of the skulls. It was a harrowing experience, standing with my exposed tongue, mere inches from a gross, gross skull. I was glad she took the pictures quickly, because I kept worrying that something was going to happen, and I was going to end up with my face pressed against human remains. Kind of like how I can be using a Q-tip while sitting on the ground, but I'll still worry that I'll somehow suddenly jam it into my eardrum and other squishy parts.

After the Catacombes, we split up, and I went to Chez Papa, which I've already mentioned. I will say that I forgot entrée doesn't mean the same thing in France as it does in the US, so my main dish, the plat principal, was the tripe. And the delicious poached eggs were just the appetizer.

After lunch, I walked through the cemetary. It's pretty big, but it's not the famous one, which I think is called Pere-Lachaise, or something similar. They have Sartre, but I have no idea who he is. The most amusing grave I stumbled upon had an engraving "Men Men Men Amen." And it contained the names of two men, so I'll go ahead and assume things. See, I knew my Asian superpower was finding the only other Asian person in a crowd of 50 or more (works well at parties), but apparently I have a gay superpower for finding the only gay plot in cemetaries.

I headed up the road to the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was very nice, but gardens start to lose their effect on me because there are so many of them here. What was unique to this garden was a small fountain where kids with sticks could redirect toy sailboats, and a lovely fountain commissioned by one of the Medicis. Ooh, and a wicked playground, for which they charged admission. The palais facing the garden was apparently commissioned by some queen (or other royal title) who missed her native Florence. It was completed in two years, but it wasn't that special, either.

The Panthéon was nearby, so I gave it a go. I balked at the admission price, even though it was 4.50€ for youth, just because I'm being conscientious about my budget this time around. But I paid, and I was able to see Foucault's famed pendulum, which proves the rotation of the earth,and there were also some lovely wall paintings. The main attraction, however, is the crypt below, which houses the tombs of famous Frenchmen. The crypt is divided into little chambers, and you can only stand at their doorways and peer in. The names of the residents are by the door, though. Louis Braille had Braille over his name. Creepier than the efficient packing of bodies (which also suggested that they were rather short) was the totally unoccupied chambers. You could see where some future body would be laid to rest. And the chamber that was empty except for a few packing boxes gave me the greatest heebie-jeebies.

On my way out of the Panthéon, I noticed people being ushered into a small staircase. I didn't know where they were going, but I decided to join them. We stopped on one of the upper levels of the building (a church? a cathedral?), to get a nice view of everything below. But the final destination was the dome, from which there was a magnificent view of the city. I tried taking pictures (including the Eiffel Tower), but they turned out mostly dinky-looking. The view was still spectacular.

I don't really remember anything about the Jardin des Plantes, so it must have been unremarkable. Also, I didn't spend much time there, because I was meeting Mosh soon, so I hoofed it over to our meeting place. From there, we went back to the apartment/studio and got changed for the evening. We were supposed to meet some of her classmates for karaoke, so we picked a dinner place nearby, called Pain, Vin, Fromage. There, we split a salad, fondue, and sorbet, and we debated how much it must look like we were on a date. The fondue was quite delicious, and the atmosphere of the restaurant was just right. I almost started playing footsies with her.

We went to karaoke, where I didn't sing at all. I put my name on a slip, but either they didn't call it before we left three hours later, or I didn't hear it. But Mosh sang "I Will Survive," and I was entertained by Kyle, who regaled me with amusing Paris anecdotes. And Mosh chatted up a cute French lawyer, who went to NYU's law school. After we left the karaoke place, we found a crepe place that was still open, and hung out and ate for a bit, before heading to Kyle's apartment, just to check it out.

This was Saturday night, so I had intended to go to Le Dépôt that night, but I was too exhausted, so we just took a cab back and went to bed. Previously, we had made plans to do two things together on Sunday, one before and one after brunch, but we pretty much just slept in. So instead of sitting down for brunch, we walked through a street market and ate random things. We also found some fresh ravioli, which we bought to have as dinner that night.

We went over to the Musée Rodin, which I really, really loved. Every time I bring this up, Mosh tells me something intelligent about stripping away clothing and leaving humanity, blah blah blah, but I just like the pretty sculptures, alright? I like the way they make me feel. I like how intense they are. It's kind of like taking an "action shot" (that was the yearbook buzzword, right?). Even though it's perfectly still, you get a strong sense of the subject being alive, and that there's depth beyond just what you see on the surface, which you don't get with posed pictures, and I don't think you usually get it with classical sculpture, either. My favorite piece was Le Baiser, which was totally hot, and mildly pornographic. The scale was larger than life, which always leaves an impression. But the placement of the limbs was great, too. His right hand holds her thigh, and its detailed veins and musculature add a sense of its power. Meanwhile, her arm is held just so, and their lips are hidden from view. Sure, you can see them, but you kind of have to try, causing the viewer to feel kind of voyeuristic. Or at least that's how it was for me. I felt a little dirty. But otherwise, their passion is shrouded by their bodies, by her limb, and you feel like you've stumbled onto something quite private.

I spent extra time in the garden outside, while Mosh went to play ultimate. I relaxed there for a few hours before going back to the apartment, where I putzed around until she got back. She took a shower, and I started making the sauce for the ravioli. It was kind of intimidating. Sure, I was just chopping some vegetables and stirring, and maybe her class is only a few weeks long, but feeling self-conscious about cooking for Mosh was unavoidable. We each had about half a pound of ravioli, plus sauce, plus bread. Feeling absurdly stuffed, I lay down on the futon, but I claimed to Mosh I wasn't going to bed yet. Sure enough, I fell asleep. It was maybe 9pm. Tangenting back, the sauce was quite pretty. Instead of buying herbs, I bought some jars of already spiced marinara sauce, and I got some beautiful mushrooms and a carrot. There was some garlic in the apartment, and soon the sauce was smelling pretty good. Mosh then picked some leaves off the basil plant by the kitchen sink, and it gave the sauce just the right amount of coloring. And Mosh also put on some random music. Good dining experiences are key to good travel experiences for me, I guess.

That's a lot of writing, and it only covers two days, so I'll take a break and continue this later.
- posted by roger @ 3:37 PM