Last Tangle in Paris

So, my last day in Paris. It was a strange day. I went to Montmartre (yes, the neighborhood where the movie Amelie takes place) against the very good advice of a friend who knows Paris well. Over some gelato before I left, he said "Don't bother going to Montmartre." I said, "But what about Sacre Coeur (the church there)?" and he said, "Eh, it's not worth it." Needless to say, I should have taken this friend's advice. I went, I saw, I left as soon as I could. Now, other friends told me that it was plagued by tourists but that if I wandered out of the tourist area, that it was a really cool neighborhood. However, I was accosted several times while trying to climb the stairs to the uninteresting cathedral by men who I guess wanted to sell me a friendship bracelet or some such thing. I don't know. Before I could say no, one had some colored string around my finger and was beginning to make the bracelet. He spoke to me in English asking me to be friendly, not like the Chinese. Apparently, Chinese people aren't friendly when a stranger comes up to them and wraps a string around their finger. I'm with the Chinese on this one. I said "NO" firmly and he said, "Come on, aren't you friendly" and I said, "Not today I'm not". I got away and on the way back down I thought I would take a detour so as to avoid these guys. I descended the steps that led directly to the side street only to come across two more guys, asking to take me for coffee, offering me his arm to walk me down the steps. I got out of there quickly.

Normally I am not so skiddish, but I was alone in a city whose language I do not speak. I decided wandering around Montmartre might be a bad idea, and annoying. Perhaps it's the American in me who expects violence and crime around every corner, but I didn't want to waste my time up there.

Before I made it to Montmartre, I was stopped by a French man as I tried to transfer from one train to another. He spoke some Spanish and wanted to tell me how attractive he thought I was, "like in a movie" he told me. He asked to buy me a coffee, asked for my address, my phone number. I'll admit I was flattered by the compliment, but also a little creeped out. Do people actually meet each other this way? I left thinking, I'm too closed. I should be more open. But then I thought, no way, this is how Jeffrey Dahmer probably lured his victims. I do not want to end up in a freezer somewhere waiting to be munched on by some guy. So, of course I was nice and smiled and said I was leaving soon and didn't really have an address. I was in between places. I thanked him for the compliment and headed off to Montmartre. Oy, what a day!

The afternoon was lovely, though. After a quick whirl around the Pere Lachaise Cemetery (Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf and others are buried there), I followed the advice of my gelato-eating friend and spent the afternoon reading at Luxembourg Gardens. What a beautiful place, and an excellent way to spend my last afternoon in Paris.

Romantic Notions

I went to Paris with this grand, romantic idea of writing in my journal along the banks of the Seine. I know, it's so original. For some reason, I had this very bucolic image of the river banks. I imagined painters and jugglers, maybe even a mime or two. I'm kidding about the mime and jugglers, but I did expect green grass and lots of wistful academic/artist people. Apparently I've seen An American in Paris too many times. What I got was concrete and grime, and some street people. Oh, and there were also some lovers who couldn't help themselves despite the polluted river below and the polluted boardwalk where they declared themselves to each other. Alas, no writing occurred there. Still, Paris was enchanting.

I spent an entire morning on my third day there at the Pompidou Center, checking out the modern and contemporary art. There were some interesting and thought-provoking pieces. Plus, it was sort of raining on and off so I figured why not hole up in a museum. Have you seen the Pompidou Center? It's this weird building with it's guts on the outside, at least that's what it looks like to me, in the middle of one of the oldest areas in Paris. Lots of pipes of varying colors and a strange but cool escalator encased in a clear tube so you can see the plaza as you go up. That evening I had a wonderful time with a friend from Chicago who is in Paris for a few weeks before school starts again. After dinner we wandered a bit around the St. Michel area (I believe it's part of the Latin Quarter), and stumbled upon this ordinary-seeming bar. We sat down. Ordered a couple of beers (a Maredsous for me! - delicious belgian beer for those of you who aren't beer snobs). And then, suddenly, this excellent jazz band began to play. We were thrilled, and a bit proud I think for having accidentally fallen into a wildly cool experience. So, while I didn't get to write in my journal about my deep thoughts on the banks of the Seine, I did get to listen to some very talented French jazz musicians who played with as much verve as any Chicago cats I've heard.