[I am back in the United States, folks, and I have completely neglected my posting duties. I apologize. Will all this make up for it? Since I hadn't had internet in the last two weeks of France, I wrote a few up on Word and saved them until I had internet access. Unfortunately, when I finally returned last Saturday, December 4th, I had completely forgotten. Sorry.]
Today was great. I woke up around 9-ish and read a bit. I know how close it is to finals, and I should have been studying instead or writing up my blog, but for some reason, I just can’t manage to focus on schoolwork in the mornings. Studying always seems to need to wait until the evening or last minute in order for me to be able to focus. I only fall asleep in the mornings, and the best inspiration comes at night (which explains how I can stay up all hours writing my stories…). I seemed to have inherited that from my dad.
So, as I was walking out to meet everyone at one, Beatrice was there in the kitchen doing some cleaning. She asked me what I was up to, and I told her I was going to the catacombs. Strangely enough, she was surprised by this, but then followed it up with, “Well, it is pretty touristy. It’s very morbid, though.” Can’t say she didn’t warn me.
Met up with the group and descended into the realm of the dead. Cost us 4 euros. Gosh, dangit, I love being a student! Reduced prices all around! The stairs were almost endless, and we had a load of fun scaring each other. Once the stairs finished, we had to go through these corridors, which also took an incredibly long time, so at one point, I hid behind a wall and grabbed someone at random – made Brittany scream. Trisha was pretty freaked out, too. I would hate to think what Spencer would have done; he takes special care in trying to make us all scream.
And then we were there. I have to say, after all the playful banter on the way down, we sobered up pretty quick when we finally saw all the bones. It was dank, musty, dark, and there were a freakishly endless amount of bones – real BONES, I tell you!! – down there. And they weren’t just sitting in piles; they were stacked all nice and neat with the skulls positioned just so they were staring right at you. There must have been a million of them, and I’m not exaggerating. It took us an hour before we finally got back to the surface. I’m never going back down there, again. Ever. You’d have to chloroform me, throw me in a sack, and drag me down if I ever go back again.
Be that as it may, you could definitely sense a sort of quiet there. For me, it definitely would have been a lot more comfortable if I didn’t have all those blank, empty holes staring out at me as I passed by. I suppose it was very different for everyone – Hannah Abbot definitely enjoyed it, I know that much. She felt the air was very respectful towards all of the dead who rested within the catacombs, whereas I felt it was a little sinister. Just knowing that all of those bones belonged to real people made it all a little creepy from the start. People’s bones shouldn’t be arranged like that; it’s downright disrespectful. At least allow them to be buried in a grave somewhere!
I might be missing the whole point of the catacombs, but everything there that explained what the catacombs were about were in French, and we didn’t want to hang about trying to sort out through the translation. I would look it up, but my Internet’s down, and I’m currently writing this out on Word. Maybe later.
Afterwards, we took a bus up past the Seine, where the group split and went their ways. Jessica and I took another bus to Grande Palais where we waited in line for the Monet exhibit there. I had wondered if it would be worth it, since I had already gone to Marmonton, and the wait in line was (at the time, we thought) at least an hour. We met up with Judith there, but within an hour, she gave up. Granted, it was rather cold, and it had even started snowing. (Oh, yeah! Snowed in Paris! How many people can say they were in Paris when it snowed? It was magical.) Only downer was that neither Jessica nor I were sufficiently prepared. I had a hat and scarf, but only my trench coat and little tennis shoes, which didn’t offer much warmth. Poor Jessica. She had a nice warm jacket, but her flats didn’t offer much warmth. A very nice lady in line noticed this and offered her a pair of socks she happened to have on hand and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Who said the French were rude?
Monet, you’d better know how much we love you, cuz we waited in the cold and the snow with our insufficient defenses against it all for two and a half hours. I think my feet were little ice blocks by the time we got in. But why did it take so long? Because buying the tickets in advance was impossible, that’s why. If we had wanted to buy them in advance for today, we would have had to buy them at the beginning of the semester or else deal with the ridiculously long line (which we did anyways). They were booked solid months beforehand, but it was all worth it. This is an experience I will never trade for anything else. Heck, because of Monet, I got to see my first snowfall (beginning and end of it) in Paris! It didn’t stick for long, but still – it’s cold enough that we can have a week of this magical weather! Better that it came now than earlier; the magic would have worn off before I climbed on my plane back to nice, toasty Texas. (If you don’t know, I hate the snow. I avoid it at all costs, unless it is impossible not to.)
The exhibit was wonderful. Again, because we’re students, we got reduced ticket prices, so it cost us 8 euros to go in. Fabulous! And it was worth every euro and every minute of waiting time. Being able to see so many of Monet’s works all at once was an incredible treat. We got to see the progression of his style: from where it was at the beginning, to the very end of his life. It had changed so radically that if you didn’t know it was him, you would have thought it was someone else. Saw the Woman in the Green Dress, his series paintings (WOW), and everything! I must say, I rather prefer his impressionist style better than the one that was inspired by Manet. As interesting Manet is, it certainly doesn’t appeal to me like Impressionism does. Impressionist: Sunrise is still my favorite painting ever. It’s on my desktop. And don’t say I didn’t just change it to fit the occasion; remember, I don’t have Internet right now.
And then we finally went home. It was a bit of a hassle because the bus driver refused to drive on two stops away from my bus stop, so I had to take the metro, and it was a 15 minute roundabout, but I still got home. Yay! I walked in just in time to see ma mére accuile start cooking, and she asked if I wanted to eat with them, even though it wasn’t her night to cook for us. I gratefully accepted, then told them all about my day in Paris.
Then I took care of my laundry (it’s currently hanging up to dry. One thing’s for certain; I can’t wait to go back home for a proper working dryer) returned to my room to read and study, and now I’m catching up on my blog. Tada!
Bonne nuit!
No comments:
Post a Comment