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Wanderings and Wonderings of J. Jennings Moss |
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I'm making my way through a book on walking tours of Paris. Earlier this week was Montmartre (will post on this sometime soon). Today, was the neighborhood around the Bastille, like many of the monuments in Paris, phallic shaped.
The enormous (and I'm told astounding) new Opera house sits on the southeast corner of the circle, the Port de l'Arsenal (a canal that feeds into the Seine) comes into the Bastille from the south, and my neighborhood of le Marais to the west.
Nothing amazing to report ... the neighborhood didn't have the same kind of spectacular architecture I've seen elsewhere, many of the streets were rundown or filled with shops that sold awful fashion statements. But there were some visual finds.
On Rue de Lappe, once the center of Parisian dancehalls.
Sifting through the leftovers from the Place d'Aligre market.
France is having elections, this appeared an ode to Chirac.
Looking down the Passage du Chantier.
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For the past week in le Marais, where my flat is, the shops have been closed in observance of Passover.
Today, as a couple of them started to come back to life, shops all around Paris closed for Good Friday. I wanted to tour through the amazing flea markets to the north of the city, but 5/6 of the booths were all closed.
I'll return though ... I'm on the hunt for a piece of art to bring back with me, a reminder of the trip, a modest acquisition for my walls.
Packed normally, today barely a ripple.
No bargain here: 1,500 Euros for this painting, sculpture.
Anyone want to market in dead animals?
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The relative calm here has ended ... the mobs who are taking advantage of Easter break have descended upon Paris, and I have retreated to my apartment. I should be used to crowds after living in New York, but even there, I tend to favor seculsion over interaction in the face of throngs.
The photo below is a line of people waiting to get into the Palais de Justice complex, which includes the Sainte Chapelle church. I simply stopped to snap their picture.
If this is an indication of the crowds over the next few days, I'll find other diversions for a few days.
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| To get caught up, some of the pics I've taken since being here ... I'll be posting new photos each day so please come back and check them out. |
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This is my bedroom -- well actually, pretty much the whole apartment -- in Paris. I've had the strangest dreams here and often fitfull nights of sleep. Last night, I dreamt that I was flying into New York on a snowy night and the plane nearly skidded off the tarmac. I needed a place to sleep so I called one of my father's friends (who in the awake world lives in California) and asked her if I could stay.
"Of course you can darling," Peggy said.
I didn't know where she lived so I asked which stations she was between.
"Well, right now I'm between CNN and the Discovery Channel," she said with a throaty laugh.
I don't think I ever made it to her.
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I should have started this a week ago ... but its only now that I seem to be done with the jetlag, settled into a groove, and free to express myself. I've been writing in a journal every day but have felt shy -- can I really be shy? -- about offering stories to others. No more. Here are those stories (or at least the ones I choose to print).
I'm one week into my four week journey, staying in a one-room apartment in le Marais. What the flat lacks in the luxuries, it makes up for in its proximity. I'm less than a five-minute walk to the Seine. I can order a cafe, a vin rouge, a crepe, a quiche or some frommage within two minutes. And I'm sure I could find a little sensual satisfaction in about the same time, though that has not happened.
I'll be posting every day from now until I return to the United States on April 23. Please read, offer a comment or two, or simply curse me for living the cliche of an American in Paris in Spring.
Before I leave, the lyrics to "April in Paris."
First, the song:
I never knew the charm of spring
I never met it face to face
I never new my heart could sing
I never missed a warm embrace
Till April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom
Holiday tables under the trees
April in Paris, this is a feeling
That no one can ever reprise
I never knew the charm of spring
I never met it face to face
I never new my heart could sing
I never missed a warm embrace
Till April in Paris
Whom can I run to
What have you done to my heart |
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| I remember the first time I became aware of the musical Company, the tale of a New York man on his 35th birthday. I was sifting through albums at a record store, in the “Showtunes” section of course, when the purple cover with the one-name title came into view... |
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| The New York in Company is a place full of frenetic, disaffected, neurotic and funny people. The Company, as presented in the revival playing at the Ehtel Barrymore on Broadway, takes the disconnectedness and makes it even more distant.
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Remember how The New Yorker would start "Talk of the Town" items with "A friend writes .."?
From Erica in New Mexico:
"Donovan went to court in Silver City (about 4 hours south of Albuquerque)
yesterday to challenge a speeding ticket we received last month. The judge
agreed to drop the charge if Donovan donated an infant car seat to the court
and a bag of Purina dog chow to the Silver City police dog. Donovan left the
courthouse and ran to the nearby Wal-Mart. He purchased a $60 car seat and a
$20 bag of dog food (Purina because that's the police dog's favorite dog
food). He took this donation back to the courthouse and officially erased
the ticket from his record.
"Only in New Mexico!"
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