My second to last day in Paris started like every day in Paris: lazy with a lot of walking to look forward to. On exiting the appartment, I went searching for an elusive restaurant called Guen Mai around St. Michel. Did I find it? No. Did I find another amazing Asian place that was super delicious? Yes.
It got the job done for meal 1 of the day... and that is all that matters. Next, it was off to see some more dead people and-- guess what?-- walk around a lot. TOMS are amazing when traveling.
To get my fix on the famous and deceased, I headed for this lovely building:
The Panthéon is located near the Sorbonne and was originally commisioned as a basilica by Louis XV, king of France. After the Revolution, it was transformed into a secular homage to France. It's kind of offsetting just how patriotic this building is:
All those statues are of famous French revloutionary encounters, nude depictions of Liberty (the secular goddess of the French), or figures of French heroes and intellectuals. The only remnants left of the church can be found on the murals painted all along the walls that depict the saints and religious glory of France. Here's one of my faves:
Yes, that is Jean d'Arc kicking some ass. Each mural is huge, and tells the whole story of the importance of these saintly individuals. Below this magnificent display, winding stairs lead to the crypt, where the heroes of France have been burreid... for the most part. Within these mostly empty chambers (waiting for another revolution, I suppose) one can find Victor Hugo, Voltaire, J.J. Rousseau, Alexandre Dumas, the Curies, and many others. It's truly fabulous to see, and worth the visit.
After this adventure, I went walking all around the University of Paris area and stumbled across the National Mideval Museum. While I did not go inside, I did meander through the mideval garden open to the public. Spring arrives in France the first of March. Everything was green and beautiful. That's one of the things I adore about Paris: there's a gorgeous hidden garden within 5 blocks of where you are standing at ay given moment... you just need to find it.
After thoroughly enjoying that small garden and walking a lot more, I took the metro to the Galeries Lafayette-- the first one. It's immense! 7 stories in the main building (there are 3 sizable buildings) housing such brands as Tiffany's, Prada, Louis Vutton, Dior, and Dolce & Gabana. It's immense and gorgeous. I couldn't leave the most luxurious department store ever without getting something, so I got this:
MY FIRST EVER WATCH!!! I don't like watches as a general rule, but the time has come to make une a permanent accessory. Part of entering the adult world, I guess. I found this beautiful timepiece among the immense jewelry section. It is descrete and elegant enough to distract from the fact that it controls my life! I love it. First watch = great success.
After this little-- and slightly pricy-- excapade, I made my way to the Champs-Élysée for some mediocre pizza and a very funny french film: Rien a Declarer. It was the cherry on top of a great day.
Returning home, I hung out with Perrine and Sofia and the friends they had over. It really was a great evening.
The next day-- my last day-- started just as lazy and as late as all of the others. What can I say? I was on vacation!!! Rising later than usual, I took a walk along the Seine to the Louvre... but the line was way too long. I said to myself, "screw this!" and waked through le Jardin Tuileries again to the Musée d'Orsay. The line was much more reasonable, admission was free, and I was absolutely starving. What is more elegant than fine dining in one fo the world's premier art museums with a fabulous view of Paris? Not much. Meal 1 of the day came very late, but it was delicious and savoured. On my third visit to the Musée d'Orsay, I began to feel... well... bored. This is really embarassing to admit. I love art and truly appreciate it, but there was something about that afternoon that left me uninspired by most of the things I saw (except Rodin, the furniture collection, many of the other sculptures, and Monet). Perhaps it was all the obnixious tourists. Perhaps it was the fact that several wings ere closed for renovation. Maybe it was ennui. Whatever it was, it did not go away at my next stop.
It took some configuring and a bunch more walking, but I figured out how to catch the metro to Pere Lachaise. This cemetery is the largest in Paris. It's absolutely sprawling:
Yeah, immense. Many famous people are burried here: Cezanne,, Seraut, Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Molière, Jim Morrison, George Sand, and Fredrich Chopin. I put on my cemetery music (Iron and Wine's new album, as well as Endless Numbered Days) and went wandering. I was exhausted, so meandered very slowly, which is unlike me. Pretty soon, a very heavy feeling overwhelmed me along the beautiful pathways of Pere Lachaise: a deep, infinite loneliness. I felt so unbelievably alone that I had to sit down. The feeling did not pass until I went to a nearby café for dinner and a waiter began hitting on me. Montesquieu provided some comfort as well (note: always carry books with you). Dinner was good, and I took my time about it.
Around 7:30, I entered the metro again, blasting Passion Pit to maintian the joie de vivre that I had found again after my stent of solitude. After the transfer at Reamur Sebastopol onto my line, I ended up sitting across from a gorgeous gentleman with olive skin and deep brown eyes. He kept trying to catch my eye, and when the metro car cleared out a bit, he began talking to me.
Mohamed is a tunisian who works at a bakery. He showered me with compliments and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. He continued riding with me to the end of the line-- four stops after his own-- just so he could talk to me. First mark, then Mohamed?! What was it with French men telling me I was beautiful and being genuinely interested?
My ego greatly boosted and a smile spread across my face, i encountered Sofia and Perrine just as they were entering the appartment with groceries. We had a wonderful time chatting and drinking in their appartment until after midnight, when we decided to go out to an Irish club with a very cosmopolitain feel to it:
This was my first ever clubbing experience... and it was super awesome and so much fun! The music was great and all I wanted to do was dance. Many men asked me to dance and treated me like a goddess. Oh, it was wonderful fun. Lucien was my last dance partner of the night. He had been watching me the whole evening and hadn't said a word. So... I did something I've never ever done before EVER: I asked him to dance with me. And it was great. He was very nice and very much the gentleman. Every single man that paid me attention told me I was beautiful and did not want me to leave Paris the next day.
What is it about French men? I'm more popular here than I ever have been in the States. My current theory is that the French are not afraid to let you know how beautiful you are. Alterior motives or no, there is no denying that being called "beautiful", "queen of the evening", and "the most striking person on the dancefloor" does wonders for the confidence. When all is said and done, it was a great way to say adieu to Paris.
Now I'm back in Angers, not ready to return to work, but very much in love with life.
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