How Miss K got her Louvre back

Gentle readers, I have a confession: I have lived in Paris for two years and three months, and it's taken me that long to visit the Louvre.  And, what's worse, I spent most of that time living right next to it.  Seriously, when I first moved here I was living on rue St Honoré (see these posts: Saturday mornings, Street talk  for details on that rather lovely neighbourhood) and if not for the buildings across the street, I could have leaned out my living room window, thrown a rock at the Louvre and actually hit the damn thing.  It took me exactly one minute to walk to the Louvre from that apartment, but did I go?  Mais non!  Now, you are probably horrified and thinking that Miss K is some sort of heathen animal who doesn't appreciate art but you are wrong, my pretties, so wrong (okay, fine, I am a heathen animal, but I'm also an art-loving heathen animal, thank you very much).

What happened is this:  on my first visit to Paris, about eighty bajillion years ago (I believe dinosaurs might still have been roaming the planet at that point) I was madly in love with the city and I wanted to do everything, including the Louvre.  So I went there on a Wednesday when it opened at 9:00am and stayed there until it closed at 9:45pm, and aside from bathroom breaks and sneaking into a stairwell to eat an orange and drink a bottle of water, I never stopped (and if you've ever been to the Louvre, you'll know that three hours is about the maximum amount of time you can enjoyably spend there in one visit).  So of course, by the end of the day, I was exhausted, dehydrated, bug-eyed from art overload and my feet were so swollen it felt like I was walking on flippers.  I mean, the experience was totally amazing, but I was so traumatized by the whole thing that I couldn't bear the thought of going back.  I avoided the Louvre on several further visits to Paris, and I really avoided it once I moved here, but now the Louvre and I are friends again.  We're quite literally friends - I even have a card that says so, because last month, I bought a year-long pass for the Louvre and I've started using it and it's fabulous.  I flash my card to go through a special entrance and don't have to wait in line, but best of all, I can just stop by for an hour or two and really enjoy my visit.  The Louvre is best appreciated in little, bite-sized chunks (which is not all that helpful for tourists, but it's great for locals with passes - like meeeee!) and I really like being able to just nibble off a piece whenever I fancy it.  Yes, picture Miss K perched on the Louvre like a gargoyle, gnawing away at the walls of the building and you'll get the general idea; last week I chowed down on Etruscan sculptures, next week, I'll be digesting Italian Renaissance paintings.  Get in, enjoy great art for a couple of hours and then get the hell out.  Ahhhh, bliss...

It started with nudity...

So this is how things went the other day - I was out on my postcard-sized balcony, drinking a cup of tea (as is my habit of a morning), when I noticed that in the building across the street, there was a woman sitting in the window one floor lower than me.  She was bent over, painting her toenails and all I could see was her back - I assumed she was wearing a halter top because it was a hot day, but noooooo.  When she sat up, there she was in all her nakedness, and I do mean all.  I nearly choked on my Earl Grey - Miss K is not what you'd call a prude, gentle readers, but if I'm going to see that much unclothed flesh that early in the morning, I'd really prefer it to be in male form and look like Hugh Jackman, if it wouldn't be too much to ask?

Anyway, after that, I thought I'd go for a little stroll around Paris, which somehow turned into a rather long hike from where I live in the Marais over to the Eiffel Tower and back again.  And along the way, there were some moments (nice ones, odd ones, and just plain perplexing ones) I thought I'd share with you:

Sweet elderly couple snuggled up together in the Tuileries.

Another "Paris being ridiculously picturesque" moment.

Why is there a large statue of South American revolutionary hero Simon Bolivar in Paris?  I'm rather intrigued -  am going to have to look that up...

A brass band playing a somewhat unexpected choice of music:

And not far away,  a French dixieland band - who even knew that there is such a thing as French dixieland??  It was news to me...

Then a whole skip full of books being thrown away, and people swarming in like sharks to get them:

Yeah, because you just never know when a French book on cardiology or a German book about make-up techniques will come in handy...

Some rather awesome street art:

A bridge which I am always nervous about walking beneath, because it looks like it's held together with spit and baling wire:

A guy practicing his tightrope walking skills:

And a large display of power tools.  I don't know, I never really pictured Parisian guys being that interested in the relative merits of different types of band saws and drill presses, but apparently power tools are a universal thing for guys...

 

And that was my day...

My Top 10 (so far)

I was looking at my blog stats today, and it's quite interesting to see which posts have been the most popular with you, gentle readers.  And since it also seems that I've had an influx of new readers recently (welcome!), I thought I would let you know what this blog's  Top 10 All-Time Most Popular Posts have been thus far:

10.  No surprise that another compilation made it into the Top 10 - I had so many left-over photos of crappy outfits from 2010 that I needed to do a whole extra post just to share them all:

Totally crap outfits of 2010 (previously unseen)

9.  Ahh, the glamour of living in Paris.  You seemed to enjoy hearing about how moving is just as stressful here as it is anywhere else...

Déménagement

8.  Not much in the way of writing, but some of my prettiest photos ever:
Jour Blanche

7.  Same again - minimal writing in this travel post, but y'all sure seemed to appreciate the photos:
Charming Chartres

6.  One of my sillier moments, but I had fun writing it and it seems you also enjoyed this story of doomed feline romance:

"Tails" of romance from the City of Love

5. Another post about travel - I personally think you only liked it because you're all now hooked on cheese crack:

Why the Belgians are better than the French (Pt 2)

4. Aaaand you're back to the topic of love (although human this time, not feline); coming in at Number Four, my romantic travails in the most romantic (yeah, whatever) city on the planet :

Paris: City of Love. Really?

3.  Seriously, you guys?  This is what you clicked on enough times to put it into third place?  Jeez.  Glad you were all so amused at my hideousness.  Hmph.  And I'll have you know that my eyelashes are, in fact, growing back - I expect to look human again sometime around the end of...erm...June, or thereabouts...
The eyes have it. Well, they used to...

2.  In second place, one of my more educational and well-written (if I do say so myself - it amused me to re-read it, which is always a good sign) posts, featuring the ever-popular Tiny Dancer (previously known as Miss A before I decided I had to give people proper nicknames):
Nature Capitale

1.  And at Number One, this is hands-down, by-a-mile, the most popular blog post I have ever written - I don't know if it's because it features the awesome Mr and Mrs Redneck, or because I took some mighty pretty photos, or because the subject matter (champagne) is interesting to a lot of people, but whatever the appeal is, here it is again:
Reims with the Rednecks

So, having seen what you like (not all of which would have been in my own personal Top 10 of my best work, I have to admit - which goes to show how little I know of popular opinion!), I must conclude that you're totally down with my pretty pictures, but not so much with my yapping.  Hmmm - I am not sure if I should consider that a big "yay!" to my photographic skills and a giant "booo, you suck!" to my writing skills, but I'm hoping it all just averages out over time.  Regardless, thanks for following/subscribing/visiting, and I'll try to keep up with your high standards, gentle-but-demanding readers!  Much love, Miss K

Things you might see on the street

Well, I really hope this banner is for some kind of art exhibit, because otherwise it's somewhat of a downer, don't you think?

Jour Blanche

If you watched the news today, you will have seen the crazy weather in Paris.  Seriously, this was a bizarre day - it started snowing and just didn't stop for hours.  At one point, it was an actual, honest-to-god, proper blizzard - which I know because I was outside, doing the penguin shuffle along the slipperiest surface on the planet (snow on top of wet leaves on top of cobblestones - yikes), and trying not to fall on my arse into the disgusting, mucky slush.  And why was I doing this?  To take photos for you, gentle readers.  Enjoy...

The Louvre is in the background, but good luck seeing it.

The Tuileries looking even more ridiculously pretty than usual.

The Musee d'Orsay is in the background.  Good luck seeing that, too.

In the Tuileries.

The Tuileries - and some very unhappy-looking seagulls. I feel you, boys.

The Tuileries.

The Tuileries.  Dude, I feel your pain.

Although this lady seems to be enjoying the snow.

At the Arc du Carrousel. My "Impressionist" photo.

Arc du Carrousel - the big thing you can almost see in the background is the Louvre.

Arc du Carrousel.

The Louvre - the pointy snowy thing is the pyramid, although it's hard to see.

The Louvre.

Why the Belgians are better than the French (Pt 1)

Okay, even the title of this post is going to get me into huge trouble, but too bad.  In September, Tiny Dancer and I went to Brussels and Bruges for a long weekend, and being in a half-Flemish, half-French country really highlighted some of the differences between French speakers in France and in other countries (have I mentioned before that I know of Parisians who will only speak English to native French speakers from other countries because they simply can't bear to hear French spoken by anyone other than the French? Because a foreign accent is so "offensive" to their delicate ears. Seriously.) and of course this is meant only in a tongue-in-cheek, poking-affectionate-fun-at way...

1.  Belgians bring the crazy right away.  This is one of the first things we saw from the bus window upon entering Brussels.  Tasteful?  No.  Hilarious? Yes.  Hee!

2.  Belgians like fun art - not just the occasional temporary fun thing installed in the Tuileries masquerading as some kind of festival, or some wacky thing hidden away where no one will see it.  Nope, they stick a great big robot-thingie guy right on the path from the train station to the centre of town and they leave it there.  Excellent.  And fun.

 

3. Belgians know how to have a good time.  The sign for this beer festival?  Still up two weeks later.  Clearly they enjoyed themselves at the beer festival so much that they just couldn't be bothered to take the sign down afterward.  (In France, I am sure there is some humourless bureaucrat whose entire job is to make sure signs are promptly taken down after events.)

4.  Belgians apparently sell "High Quality Pleasure" in shops, and Miss K entirely approves of anyone selling such a thing.

5. In Brussels, they quite literally roll the red carpet out for pedestrians.  Seriously!  The sign says so, and I'm not kidding, the carpet goes on forever.  Fantastique!  And as pedestrians who are almost killed every damn day on the Parisian streets, this is the exact moment when Tiny Dancer (pictured below) and I both fell in love with the Belgians.

To be continued...

Things you might see in the park

This piece of "art" is currently hanging from a tree in the Tuileries.  And no, I don't get it either...

Paris street art

I have been collecting photos of street art in Paris for a while, thinking that I would do a post one day and feature all the photos together.  But Miss K is sometimes an idiot, because I have realized that if I just do it as an occasional feature, it can serve to entertain you during those rare times when I don't actually have anything to yap about.  So here's the first one - a personal favourite (the Beatles painted up in KISS makeup?  With a little Einstein on the side?  Awesome. (Found just off the rue de Buci.)  Enjoy...

Nuit Blanche report

As promised, I am reporting back on last night's Nuit Blanche in Paris. 

 Miss K is currently suffering from a very painful bad back, but I nonetheless dragged myself out to one of the primary art events on the Parisian calendar, just so that I could tell you about it (needless to say, I had to have a couple of glasses of red wine during the course of the evening, but in this case they were strictly medicinal!) - do you appreciate my efforts?  Well, we'll see...

We started off at Notre Dame, which was amazing - the artist was Thierry Dreyfus and he had the outside darkened and the inside lit, so that the colours of the magnificent stained-glass rose windows were visible at night.

Upon entering the church, there was dramatic lighting accompanied by ethereal singing - really magical...

The next stop was at the Hotel-Dieu, which was okay, but certainly not worth the hour spent waiting in line to get in.   There were several other venues we tried to check out but the line-ups were far too long, so we saw some of the general projects on the street but probably the coolest thing was at St Martin, a ghost station which has been unused since WWII - the only way to view the project was to take Metro line 9 from Republique to Strasbourg St Denis.  I am attempting to link a video here that I shot of it (accompanied by the oohs and aahs of the other Metro passengers - hee!) but bear with me as I haven't tried video on here before.  If it works, I hope you like it...

Nature Capitale

So I thought I should probably explain yesterday's photo - last Saturday night, the Champs Elysées was shut down for something called Nature Capitale, which took place on the Sunday and Monday.  It was part art installation, part eco-awareness event and it was very interesting....in concept.  In reality, it was the hottest day of the year (30 Celcius) and about 50 bajillion people showed up.

Seriously, it was PACKED - I had gone down there to meet my journalist friend Miss A, who had been covering the event and we managed to get about halfway up the street before giving up and going for a well-deserved frosty beverage.  I don't think they had any idea so many people were going to show up, and it was made worse by the fact that there were metal barricades down both sides of the street, causing far more congestion and crowding than necessary.  But it's Paris - god forbid there not be barricades, I mean, people might just wander from the sidewalk onto the street and back again.  It could be chaos, people, chaos!  I personally think the barricades were just there so the security guys would have something to sit on - what else were they doing?  Was someone going to try to steal a leaf?

Oops, sorry, I think my snark was showing a little bit there.  There were nice parts to it and, as I said, it was a cool concept - bringing nature and agriculture to the city was an interesting idea and there were volunteers to explain and educate on all the exhibits.  However, I felt sorry for the sheep (and that goes in at number 5 on my list of Top Ten Sentences I Never Thought I Would Utter: "I felt sorry for the sheep") as they had a bunch of them penned up in the middle of the street with no shade whatsoever.  Hey, wearing a full-body fuzzy wool suit when it's 30C degrees?  Not good times... (And you just know all the other sheep on the farm were super-jealous beforehand that these ones got to go to Paris, right?  "Dude, I am BUMMED, those guys are going to the city, I'll bet they go clubbing and see the dancing girls at the Moulin Rouge, and here we are, stuck back on the farm.  Dang!")

Ahem.  Anyway, I'm glad I went just for the experience of it, but considering that I grew up in the country, it wasn't really all that exciting to me.  Although watching the Parisians looking at the grass displays cracked me up - there they were, nodding sagely and looking wise, like they knew what the hell they were looking at, other than it being, you know, grass. And I forgot to mention that the grass wasn't underfoot, it was in  raised boxes placed at intervals all along the street - what, are you kidding?  It's Paris, you never get to walk on the grass...