To watch the way women wear scarves and smoke....

This will take a bit of reflection as I left Paris over a week ago but here goes....

Since I was in my late teens, second only to my desire to live in London, has been my desire to live or at least spend time in the Montmartre region of Paris. I have felt drawn to this bohemian suburb with its rich artistic history and questionable morals. So when selecting where to stay, there was no second guessing on the quality of the hostel or its proximity to public transport, all that mattered was that it was in Montmartre. Ultimately the hostel I found was actually much better than the people who had reviewed it in the past would have you believe- mainly it had lost points from them because it wasn't in the centre of the city between the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower- I'm shocked that they didn't know where in Paris Montmartre was but you can't cure willful ignorance. The hostel, Montclair Montmartre, was a decent place right near a metro stop and just down the hill from Sacre Coeur- it also close to few OK supermarkets which I was desperate for as I was very skint by the time I got to Paris (managed three dinners of pasta with cherry tomatos, baby spinach, feta and green olives plus a large bottle of very good juice for just over 10 euros and the spinach was even organic...go me). It's only problems were that the internet crawled and on occasion crashed, and that sound carried easily throughout the first couple of floors of the building- on my last night I'd been hanging out with some people in the kitchen area on the ground floor and when I went up to bed at around midnight, I found every possible door shut and even with them shut I realised that on the first floor you could hear like ever word uttered on the ground floor- having been one of the people making the noise, I kind of felt sorry for those getting an early night, my dorm mates got their own back somewhat as they had an early flight and were up at 5am the next day.

A gruesome at Notre Dame watching over the Eiffel Tower

Paris was the city I had spared the most time for as I was arriving in the early afternoon on Friday and left at night on the Monday. As soon as I got there and sorted my stuff out at the hostel, I was off to climb Montmartre. I had great plans of just sitting in cafés there and eating cheese and bread, and drinking wine and/or absinthe and imagining that I was a struggling bohemian artist of the 19th century like Van Gogh or Tolouse Latrec- sadly lack of money and time quickly killed that idea. I did go and wander round Sacre Couer inside and outside (there is this weird revolutionary mosiac near the altar which kind of rocks but which sadly I couldn't get a photo or postcard of), sadly due to some rain and heavy wind the dome was closed which was unfortunate though I did catch my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower from just outside Sacre Coeur so score on that front. I therefore briefly wandered the streets at the top of Montmartre and soaked by the atmosphere. There are lot of artists and buskers hanging around there and though the buskers were mostly good, the artists were universally rubbish which was a bit of a bummer. I also furthered an addiction I'd developed in Nice and hunted the streets and stores for a zitron sucre crepe (that's lemon and sugar, people)...so tasty and usually quite "cheap" (compared to other food in Paris) at only 3 or 3.50 euros. I checked out the Musee de Montmartre which was kind of interesting and then wandered over to Montmartre cemetery to visit the grave of Emilie Zola whose J'Accuse article in response to the Dryfus trail makes him somewhat of a hero of mine. While there I got to get my knowledgable tourist on as I got asked where Jim Morrison was buried and got to put on a snobby voice and tell the questioning people that he was actually buried in Pere Lachaise on the other side of town.

The next day and my first mission was to get myself a Museum card. At 50 euros, this gives you four days of unlimited admission to about 70 museums and sights in and around Paris- there are two day and six day versions as well. This was possibly better than the I heart Amsterdam card as I got at least 60 (probably closer to 70) euros value out of it in only 3 days- just imagine if I'd had that extra day (only downside is that it doesn't include public transport but you can also get a seperate 3 or 5 day card for it ). Being as it is the done tourist-y thing, my first stop was the Louvre. I've never been particularly excited about that portrait of that woman painted by the guy who a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle was named after him and by this stage of my trip I was completely over Italian Renaissance art in any case (I'd got to the point of "another Madonna and Child, hmmm, pretty but so dull" and was craving the kind of ridiculous how-is-this-art modern art that often leaves me cold- I'm sure I'll be able to see the beauty of Leonardo and crew again but it may be a while). I have, however, on this trip been increasing my love of ancient Greek and Roman sculpture and the Louvre's collection, which includes the Venus de Milo and Michaelangelo's The Captive, is AWESOME. The Louvre would take an age to get through in its entireity so it is pity that most vistors dash in, tick the Mona Lisa off their list of things to see and dash out again. I was there for about three hours and saw only a faction of one section. I must revisit one day when I'm more in the mood- I did do a turtle hunt and find works by all four artists the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are named after but that is my petty victory. I must revisit one day when I'm more in the mood. After that to the Musee de Arts Decoativ where in a display on animals in design in the section devoted to toys were figures of the turtles- the heroes in a half shell have taken Paris! I also discovered in their bookshop that French children quest for a guy in a stripey jumper and beanie called Charlie instead of a guy in stripey jumper and beanie called Wally. The bad points of the Musee de Arts Decorativ were that lift to 9th floor was out (hello stairs from floors four to nine) and that they had the odd modern art display mixed in with the permenant collection and a lot of it was of the kind where people think they're being out there by making things shaped like genitalia and I would prefer my museum experience sans phallic symbols (if it is not a regular modern art museum where such things are par for the course). After this I was off up the Champs Élysées (which it turns out isn't that busy really) to the Arc  de Triomphe and climbing up to see Paris from slightly higher up as the sunset.

Next day, I decided to get my tourist on properly- that's right the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe aren't real tourism. First stop Oscar Wilde's grave. Now I see you thinking Oscar Wilde's grave isn't that much of a tourist Mecca- granted I'm sure some of you are just thinking wasn't he Irish, why is he buried in Paris? True Wilde's grave isn't on every cliche tourist list but he is buried in Pere Lachaise- home of many the influetial grave including Proust, Chopin and Pissarro (to name but a very few) and it is the cemetery which the great Victorian cemetery landscapers of London took as the shiny beacon of ideas that they could steal and use at Highgate and the other great Victorian cemeteries of London. And I say in a quiet voice (though I have mentioned it already), Jim Morrison is buried there (now you get the tourist cliche). I was there early to avoid the Morrison crowds and I left his grave until last to check out. The map that they give you is a bit of mess as it is an OLD cemetery and so the graves are a bit all over the place- I couldn't find Chopin or Pissarro though after a lot of searching in some cases I did find Colette, Proust, Wilde (of course!), Edith Piaf and Moliere (and Morrison). The things I loved most about Pere Lachaise were firstly that it feels old- many of the non-famous graves in the cemetery was in disrepair and showing their years- and secondly that people do actively leave things as tributes on some of famous graves- flowers of course, but Morrison and Wilde both also had unlit cigarettes, Morrison had what appeared to be glasses of alcohol and for a some reason, someone left Wilde a gummi bear. I will say however that I didn't follow the tradition of kissing Wilde's grave- it is a bit too flithy and a bit too creepy even for me. Following my visit to Pere Lachaise, I was off for more cliched Parisian touristy fun- that day included visits to Notre Dame (including a shout out to our gruesome and gargoyle friends who grace the outside of the church...they so rock!), the Eiffel Tower and a walk past the Moulin Rouge. I also fitted in a trip to the the Museum of Jewish Art and History,- well worth the visit and not very corwded- Notre Dame Archeological Crypt- not part of the cathedral but near it, it is an archeological dig in action- and the Paris Cinema Museum- which wasn't big enough or in depth enough for a film nut like me but might suffice the needs of the less snobby in their film tastes. I also learnt the art of artly avoiding people trying to hawk sparkling little Eiffel Towers even when they were offering them to me for free.

Pere Lachaise- though not  famous grave

Returning to the hostel that night and looking up my plans for the next day- the Musee D'Orsay and the Musee Rodin- I was shocked to discover that I was an idiot. I had originally planned to do eveything listed above on the Monday and the Musee D'Orsay and Musee Rodin on the Sunday, but my lack of desire to travel in dirty jeans on the Monday night after visiting Pere Lachaise meant I switched my plans- so stupid! As it turns most Parisian museums are closed on Mondays so my museum plans were thwarted and then new plans to visit the catacombs with someone I met at hostel also bust! I had to quickly find new plans. Fortunately the Musee d'Orangerie which I had also planned to visit was open on Monday and as was the Army Museum (I had little interest in most of it but it does include Napolitan's Tomb and the Museum of the French Resistance and Free France which sounded cool to me) and the National Museum of Modern Art. The Musee d'Orangerie as it turned out had a brilliant photographic exhibit on which was worth the visit just on its own and don't forget this is the home of some massive Monets. The Musuem of the French Resistance and Free France turned out to be very interesting though be warned in some displays the signs are only in French- and if you go upstairs in this museum to see the section on the deportation of French Jews and French Resistance fighters you will be met by a giant print of the most harrowing Holocaust photo I've ever seen, it isn't of a pile of bodies or barbed wire or other things you would associate with the Holocaust, it is of a blonde girl of about 3 year old in the striped pyjamas with a yellow star on her sleeve holding a teddy bear and just staring out at you from the photo- it was heartbreaking considering she likely didn't survive the Holocaust. Moving away from the Holocaust, Napolitian's tomb has to be seen to be believed- it is massive and so over the top that you think why did they bother with that Revolution. The National of Modern Art is in what has to be the coolest building in Paris, the Centre Georges Pompidou. The building itself is a work of art. The art gallery is very interesting as it houses a very extensive collection of art by female artists and another collection that tracks the evolution of modern art from the time of Picasso. So in the end, the day wasn't wasted and I have museums left for next visit. 

Following this day of museums/galleries, I was headed back to my home away from home across the pond where I was greeted by a dorm full of people I never met. They were asleep when I arrived at 9.45pm and when I left at 5am the next morning. And after a madcap early morning dash to Stanstead, I was on my discount flight to Malaysia- I have to say if you pay for it, the food of Air Asia ain't bad (especially when compared to China Airlines).

The sun sets on some sculptures at the Centre Georges Pompidou

 

and on Clare's time in Europe

Someone I met in Nice had come from Paris and before going there she was advised to just sit in a café and observe the way Parisian women wear scarves and the way they smoke. Sadly I had little time in Paris to sit down and people watch but from what I did see I can say that it is quite a fascinating different way the Parisians live and from my brief observation I support her claim that the French can't possibly get as much lung cancer because of the speed and way that they smoke. Next time I'll be all about the people watching I think.