Paris

Paris is a city about which people have alot of preconceptions, alot of prejudice. Well I spent last weekend in Paris, and most of mine were unfounded. The city is vibrant and exciting, and I hope this was only the first of many trips.

The first thing people will inevitably tell you about Paris is that the people there are rude. Normally this hinges on their unwillingness to speak English to anybody who doesn't already speak French. While I did notice that this was true, I allowed it to be coloured by similar experiences in Spain. The great thing I always thought about the Spanish was that so many of them spoke no English, but you could be sure that between you, you'd figure out what was going on. Non-verbal communication and similarities of language were usually enough to get you what you wanted, and neither side really cared about the fact that they didn't speak the other's language. Now, this may not have been directly relevant to the case with the Parisians, as they undoubtedly speak English. But on a few occasions I did ask them questions in English, only to be greeted with a defiantly French answer. I did figure out what they meant, however. And, given the desire to put a little effort in, I'm sure in that environment it would be much easier to pick up the language.

Saturday we spent at the Louvre. This was quite a shock, all things considered. As I've stated in the past, I've always been pretty fascinated with the Rennaissance, and considered it the highest form of art. I can now see how the youth of Europe grow so interminably bored with the period. So would I if I had to stare at so much of it presented so appallingly.

The sculptures, which to me were always the highest expression of man's art quite frankly suck when you put two hundred in a large room. The pieces don't contribute to each others' greatness, they wholly detract. They're magnificent pieces of work, but it really is very difficult to see the wood for the trees in that kind of environment.

The paintings fared still worse than the sculpture. Stacked wall to wall and floor to ceiling, the best paintings you've seen in your life lend no presence to the great halls any better than some seriously flowerly wallpaper. I saw the Mona Lisa (which I now know has half a dozen names in different parts of Europe) and experienced the biggest "oh yeah" of my life. "Oh yeah," I said. "Looks just like the Mona Lisa."

In short, I now see why modern art is so interesting and vital. If I was raised in the climes of so much great art foisted on me so abruptly and inconsiderately, I may well have submitted a urinal to the local art fair myself. I also know what not to do if I ever have the chance to display a collection. I will pause to say, however, that I plan to return to the Louvre with my sketch book to gain what I can from the sculpture.

The food in Paris is fantastic. Yes, they have snails on the menu. And I did in fact insist on being taken to McDonalds to get a Royale with Cheese and a glass of beer. It was better than a Quarter Pounder (or Quartre Pounderrr) and it was Kronenbourg. The mayonnaise with my fries wasn't quite mayonnaise, it seemed to have alot of garlic in it. Truly, friends, I have lived.

Now, there is also another preconception which is true. French women are incredibly sexy. Not necessarily of body, but god dammit, I went weak at the knees every time I got so much as a "merci" out of them. In fact, I still dream of the mercis I received in a particular art store. It was enough to make me attempt to buy some crappy souvenir in every store we walked past.

The history in Paris is inescapable. The place is so full of gigantic monuments to everything it's a wonder there's any space left for building on. Incredible architecture, including the more modest of apartment blocks. We saw much of it at 1am on Saturday night, screaming round the city in Gloria's brother's car taking the tour we couldn't take in daylight hours, given the ridiculous amounts of traffic omnipresent in Paris's every byway.

Anyway, Paris is a wicked city and I'm going back. Join me, if you would.