Consider these private gardens. The properties on this street belong to famous rich French persons who don't want the public to know where they live, so their intercom buttons on the outside of the gate are coded with the names of historical French artists.
There was a collective gasp when Paul led us around a corner to this, the Cutest Street in Paris. Unfortunately these houses never come up for sale since they pretty much get passed through families, so when we all professed a desire to live there we had to do some brainstorming. Elizabeth proposed that she would marry into one of the homeowning families, and Suzy volunteered that she would then kill Elizabeth and claim her husband.
I <3 winding hillside roads.
The Lapin Agile was a late 19th century bar frequented by bohemians. Now it's just supercute.
We also paid a visit to the Musee de Montmartre, which houses some interesting Montmartre-related stuff including these fin-de-siecle posters advertising everything from dance halls to absinthe to concerts and bars.
Now, for some things I have been up to this weekend.
On Friday Erin and I went to The Orangerie to see some impressionist painting:
After that we went downstairs to see some Renoir, Cezanne, Picasso, Sutine and others, and after wandering too far ahead I lost Erin and got majorly hit on by a curator of the museum. He was at least 50 and he chatted me up in French for about 20 minutes before giving me his card and urging me to call him (for a date? to talk about art? I wasn't clear on the particulars). Hilariously, his name was Branko (pronounced "bronco"). And even more hilariously, he used the nerdiest art-history-related pickup line on me. He had led me into a photo gallery and was pointing out the work of some artist, I forget which, who had done a dozen portraits all of the same woman. "You know," said Branko, with a sly smile, "If you had lived in his time period, I bet he would have done a dozen portraits of you." I held it together long enough to excuse myself and find Erin, but then laughed all the way down the street after we'd left.
Then we went to Parc Butte-Chaumont, a lovely hillside expanse of greenery that you're actually allowed to sit on, for a picnic of the delicious little chickens that we had bought at a market in the 9th. Our enjoyment of the feast, however, was soon halted by the arrival of a cute and evidently hungry dog:
Okay, now for some stuff that happened awhile ago. Good lord I'm behind.
A little while ago Susan pulled some strings with a curator friend of hers at the Louvre who was able to get us VIP access on a day when the museum was closed to the public.
Regarde! The halls are empty!
We even got to see the Mona Lisa without anyone else around it:
Sebastien, our curator guide, told us that the Mona Lisa is basically famous for being famous. No one even thought it was that cool until it got stolen.
I went on a quest to find the Venus de Milo, and I did. This was on a regular museum day though, hence the crowds.
The view is better from the back because no one is interested in seeing the Venus de Milo butt crack.
Other famous Parisian things: L'Arc de Triomphe, built by Napoleon.
A few weeks ago we toured the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, where lots of famous French artists trained. In one room there was a collection of copies of famous sculptures, paintings, and examples of architecture, so that the students could practice imitating their styles without having to go all the way to Italy and various other locales that had the real thing:
We had class in the room where the prestigious Prix de Rome was handed out every year to one lucky art student. The prize allowed for a travel and living stipend so the artist could go to Italy and further refine his craft. The painting on the wall is by Delaroche, and portrays centuries of famous artists all talking and intermingling.
It occurs to me that I've never shown you the outside of my apartment. Here it is! I live on the fifth floor.
From now on I'll be more timely with my updates.
3 comments:
Timely updates are for people with free time. You're in Paris. You shouldn't have any free time, at least the majority of your free time shouldn't be spent worrying about blogging.
On a completely unrelated sidenote, Erin is really cute, perhaps even cuter than the puppy. Put in a good word for me (but don't make me look like Branko).
And if Erin's reading this, whoops.
I was teaching you guys the different kinds of trees, since I was taking a landscape class, OK? And don't all of your teachers lecture in song? No? Really? (The weeping willows were the easiest to recognize.)
wait. you gave chicken bones to the dog?!?! please say you just gave him pieces of chicken. please. because poultry bones are NOT good for dogs or any living thing cuz they shatter into little slivers that are evil and can do a lot of damage when animals chew them up...
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