Parislog 15
Apr. 10

I finally went and got the phone card that I had been told to get to make my calling cheaper and boy was it a bargain. It was 7.50 euros (about $10) and gives me 1200 minutes over the next 2 months. At least that is how long the card lasts. I have made a few calls but it turns out that there a couple of hitches. One hitch is that it wont allow me to call cell phones. I guess that is because from over here they charge you to call a cell phone, a lot. It is in the neighborhood of 20-30 cents a minute for a long distance cell. The other hitch was that anyone who has a phone that blocks unidentified calls wont work because apparently the card number is blocked to caller id's. It ain't easy being cheesy.

On Saturday, I went with H* to a brocante (flea market) that was right by her apartment. It was quite big and not as expensive as the weekly one by my apartment. This was a onetime market. The vendors probably rotate around to other sites each week, as it does seem to be their business. It was a very chilly morning with the wind blowing very strongly off the canal. The stalls were full of treasures and junk of every sort. We had much fun looking at jewelry and such. H* found a great bracelet that had big chunky stone shaped pieces the color of her eyes, a light grey-green. It took me much longer to find my treasure but I finally succeeded. We came across a scarf in my colors of intense turquoise, hot pink and cold purple flowers. It is a Christian Dior and the merchant was asking 30 euros ($36). I only had 20 and H* chipped in another 2.50 and the deal was accepted. What a score. These sorts of scarves, I hate to say, typically sell for around 200 euros ($250). Lucky me. Huge smile.

The only sour moment of the adventure was when a man out of nowhere started making comments about H* and I speaking English which, by the way, he said in English. I laughed at him as I thought honestly that he had to be joking, especially because he was speaking in proper English. Well, I guess he wasn't joking because he actually followed us to continue to tell us how rude we were and in French said that we were little girl assholes. I didn't hear this because he said it under his breathe to H* and she went off on him in French and he all of a sudden wasn't interested in the confrontation and pretended like he had nothing to do with this rant and then disappeared. Good for her.

On Sunday I joined up with A* to go to the d'Orsay museum to see an exhibit of Cezanne and Pisarro. On the metro there was another version of the street performer. This guy made some speech that I ignored and then walked past me and it was quiet. I was wondering what was up because usually the speech is a pre-cursor to a walk around the train with hand out for money but not this time. Next thing I know, I here a Beatles tune behind me and I looked at the faces in front of me smiling. I turn around and the guy has taken a piece of black velvet and attached it between two poles that normally people who are standing hold onto and above the cloth there is a red face devil puppet acting out singing the song. It was rather creative but unfortunately that was my stop and I didn't even have time to snap a picture.

After arriving at the museum I was waiting for A* sitting next to a street artist and reading a magazine. His pictures looked to be photocopy line drawings on watercolor paper that he then proceeded to color in with watercolors. They were very bright and cheerful but classic tourist kitsch. It was fun listening to him trying to talk a couple into buying a picture or two. It almost seemed to be working until he said something about the woman being boss in regards to which ones were most desired and the guy took great umbrage at that and said that he was his own boss and she was a "companion". I guess it wasn't his wife. After they walked away he looked at me like "oh well, you win some, you loose some".

The museum exhibit was incredibly packed as the big ones always are but A* is a very calm soul and so we managed to go through the process without it being too annoying. We got those listening devices that often go with shows now a days and they really make a difference. They aren't always the most exciting of recitations but they do help you to notice things that you might otherwise gloss over and give you some history of whatever is being shown so that you can put it into perspective. Cezanne and Pisarro worked together for many years and have paintings of the same spot or of a scene very similar to the others work. The museum put the paintings next to each other so that you can see the direct comparison, which was really interesting to see. I definitely liked most of
Cezanne better because he was much more intense with his brush work and his colors were more vivid but often Pisarro had better perspective.

After we went through the whole exhibit we went and looked at our respective favorite painters works in the regular part of the museum. My favorite is Van Gogh and hers is Renoir. It was so nice to see the paintings again. It is just so much better in real life than in picture books. Sometimes the size of the canvas is as important as the work itself. Often you don't realize how big or small a piece really is because in the books they are page size.

We stopped at the museum coffee shop for a little refresher at the end of the trip and I ordered a "gaufre liegoise" (I think that is right). It was a waffle with whipped cream a little ball of French vanilla ice cream and chocolate drizzle. You know I was a happy camper. All of a sudden these announcements started that the museum was closing. Sigh. We managed to wonder through a few more rooms of work on our way to the door, notably the pointillist work. That is where the painting is done with nothing but dots of color. It is crazy to look at and must have taken forever to do some of the big ones but it looks really wonderful.

Today was a pretty simple day of grocery shopping and taking a walk to look at architecture to amuse myself. What I didn't know was that this weekend that just passed was the beginning of the spring break for the students in Paris. They get a 2-week break 3 times during the school year and then summer. Well, it was just insane with teenagers in the central shopping district core and it was giving me a headache so I took off back to the apartment.