My definition of "French" music is very (very) broad, but I felt like it would be wise of me to acquaint myself with a few apparently popular artists who are either from France or who sing in French. First on the list is a duo called Amadou and Mariam -- they are a blind couple from Mali who met at a school for the blind, got married, and went on to make awesome music. They sing some stuff in French and have done major recording in Paris. "Je pense a toi" is wonderful because, in addition to being a good song, it has lyrics simple enough for me to understand.
Next is a song by Manu Chao, who grew up in France but whose family is from Spain. He sings in Spanish, French, and English. His most interesting work is inspired by his time traveling through Latin America and listening to street music.
I've heard this next song, "A Cause Des Garcons," about a bajillion times. Yelle is obviously a tremendously popular artist, and pretty cute to boot. It's the first pop music I've really enjoyed in a while, so you guys have fun with the brain candy too!
This song represents the unholy union between Yelle and some kind of strange rap group called "Fatal Bazooka." These dudes are obviously being goofballs, I've seen more than one French rap video where the guys are dressed like this... like an amusingly mild imitation of our own gangsta culture.
And here is "100% VIP," a song by a cross-dressing pop guru named Philippe Katerine. It is a little disco for me, but it's a fun song!
Happy listening!
AN ADDITION:
My friend Anna has reminded me that I should post France's 2007 Eurovision Song Contest entry, in which the band wears very typical pink ascots.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Playing Hooky
Today I woke up in the morning and was faced with a choice. Should I go to theater day and spend hours making up scenes where the dialogue consists only of expressive vowel sounds? (I kid you not.) Or, should I do something else with my valuable and limited time in Paris?
If you guessed that I skipped class today, DINGDINGDING! You win a prize!
My first plan was to go to the Musée National du Moyen Âge, situated in the Hôtel de Cluny. Unfortunately, I idiotically failed to realize that the museum is closed on Tuedays -- Monday is the traditional museum closure date and I assumed that would apply today. At least I got to take a very pleasant stroll through the garden, which was inspired by medieval gardens and had some interesting captions about the use of plants for medicinal purposes.
As I sat on a bench wondering what I should do next, I got the idea to go see the Moulin Rouge, even though I can't afford tickets because they cost about 100 Euros apiece. It doesn't look quite as magical in the daytime -- or maybe it was the special movie lighting -- but it was pretty cool anyway!
As I glanced down the street at other strip joints and "love shops," I wished that I could experience the racy side of Paris in a more appealing way. Ta Da! Down the street I spied a sign that promised my kind of satisfaction.
If you have a prurient interest in dirty art from all times and all places, this is your ideal museum. There were replicas of naughty vases from Greece, prints of Chinese and Japanese art, Aztec figures, and sculptures inspired by the Kama Sutra. Upstairs, there were some seriously fascinating photos with captions describing brothels and cabaret dancing in Paris. My favorite part, however, was the small section dedicated to satirical art designed to poke (haha) fun at the church. I'll leave you with a title only: "The Nun, the Vicar, and the Sacristian." Here is an image from one of the postcards, the only one I would not blush to drop in the mail.
Le Musée de l'érotisme de Paris is a filthy, filthy museum -- but it's a lot of fun if you aren't too embarrassed to be seen in there!
After that little adventure, I decided I should purify myself with a trip to the nearby Sacre Coeur. Unfortunately, I felt far dirtier after leaving that place that I ever could after seeing naughty pictures. It takes a solid second place on the list of most appalling churches I have set foot in. Don't get me wrong, the building itself is very beautiful.
But the church is more about Mammon than Jesus. From the moment I got out of the subway, I knew to follow the steady river of tourists flowing up a hill. We walked along a street lined with souvenir shops, which didn't bother me at all. What did bother me was the hassle I dealt with when I got to the bottom of the stairs. There are tons of guys who hang around Sacre Coeur with strings that they want to tie around your wrists and fingers. I didn't go anywhere near them because I had already been warned -- sometimes they tie a knot you can't undo, and then demand your money. They reminded me of the guys in Egypt, in that they were willing to physically block your path in an attempt to get your attention. One of them kept calling out, "Hey, girl!" at me as I sped away. Fortunately my instincts from Egypt came back easily and they largely left me alone after the first try. There are overpriced water vendors and guys trying to pressure you to buy replicas of the Eiffel Tower, and when you get into the church there are candles everywhere -- and you can take one home for a mere ten Euros. I pity the people who were actually trying to pray there. The churches in Egypt attracted tourists, and there was some fabulous Jesus kitsch up for grabs. But I was never once hassled outside a church, and I was never offered anything for purchase inside of one.
I'll take the regular kind of prostitute, if you don't mind!
If you guessed that I skipped class today, DINGDINGDING! You win a prize!
My first plan was to go to the Musée National du Moyen Âge, situated in the Hôtel de Cluny. Unfortunately, I idiotically failed to realize that the museum is closed on Tuedays -- Monday is the traditional museum closure date and I assumed that would apply today. At least I got to take a very pleasant stroll through the garden, which was inspired by medieval gardens and had some interesting captions about the use of plants for medicinal purposes.
As I sat on a bench wondering what I should do next, I got the idea to go see the Moulin Rouge, even though I can't afford tickets because they cost about 100 Euros apiece. It doesn't look quite as magical in the daytime -- or maybe it was the special movie lighting -- but it was pretty cool anyway!
As I glanced down the street at other strip joints and "love shops," I wished that I could experience the racy side of Paris in a more appealing way. Ta Da! Down the street I spied a sign that promised my kind of satisfaction.
If you have a prurient interest in dirty art from all times and all places, this is your ideal museum. There were replicas of naughty vases from Greece, prints of Chinese and Japanese art, Aztec figures, and sculptures inspired by the Kama Sutra. Upstairs, there were some seriously fascinating photos with captions describing brothels and cabaret dancing in Paris. My favorite part, however, was the small section dedicated to satirical art designed to poke (haha) fun at the church. I'll leave you with a title only: "The Nun, the Vicar, and the Sacristian." Here is an image from one of the postcards, the only one I would not blush to drop in the mail.
Le Musée de l'érotisme de Paris is a filthy, filthy museum -- but it's a lot of fun if you aren't too embarrassed to be seen in there!
After that little adventure, I decided I should purify myself with a trip to the nearby Sacre Coeur. Unfortunately, I felt far dirtier after leaving that place that I ever could after seeing naughty pictures. It takes a solid second place on the list of most appalling churches I have set foot in. Don't get me wrong, the building itself is very beautiful.
But the church is more about Mammon than Jesus. From the moment I got out of the subway, I knew to follow the steady river of tourists flowing up a hill. We walked along a street lined with souvenir shops, which didn't bother me at all. What did bother me was the hassle I dealt with when I got to the bottom of the stairs. There are tons of guys who hang around Sacre Coeur with strings that they want to tie around your wrists and fingers. I didn't go anywhere near them because I had already been warned -- sometimes they tie a knot you can't undo, and then demand your money. They reminded me of the guys in Egypt, in that they were willing to physically block your path in an attempt to get your attention. One of them kept calling out, "Hey, girl!" at me as I sped away. Fortunately my instincts from Egypt came back easily and they largely left me alone after the first try. There are overpriced water vendors and guys trying to pressure you to buy replicas of the Eiffel Tower, and when you get into the church there are candles everywhere -- and you can take one home for a mere ten Euros. I pity the people who were actually trying to pray there. The churches in Egypt attracted tourists, and there was some fabulous Jesus kitsch up for grabs. But I was never once hassled outside a church, and I was never offered anything for purchase inside of one.
I'll take the regular kind of prostitute, if you don't mind!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Chillin'
Last night I went over to Kenneth's apartment, where he and his roommate treated me to a delicious dinner! Afterward we went to get some really good ice cream (I had chocolat and noix de coco, yum) and lounged around on the banks of the Seine, waving at the people on boats passing by. It was great.
Today I'm just chilling out -- I need to rest up and study some French, so I'm planning to go home and watch some awesome DVDs like Cyrano de Bergerac (with Gerard Depardieu) and 84 Charing Cross Road, which is in English but has all sorts of French language options. I figure if I sit around watching classic movies I'm bound to pick up some new words. Maybe I'll treat myself to a ridiculously overpriced dinner in a cafe or something.
I got bumped up a level in French class and have a teacher I really like. She actually talks to me about grammatical stuff like prepositions, accents, and conjugation of verbs. It is AWESOME. Unfortunately, tomorrow is theater day... blargh.
Today I'm just chilling out -- I need to rest up and study some French, so I'm planning to go home and watch some awesome DVDs like Cyrano de Bergerac (with Gerard Depardieu) and 84 Charing Cross Road, which is in English but has all sorts of French language options. I figure if I sit around watching classic movies I'm bound to pick up some new words. Maybe I'll treat myself to a ridiculously overpriced dinner in a cafe or something.
I got bumped up a level in French class and have a teacher I really like. She actually talks to me about grammatical stuff like prepositions, accents, and conjugation of verbs. It is AWESOME. Unfortunately, tomorrow is theater day... blargh.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Merde!
Today I checked out some of the smelliest parts of Paris, beginning with the Fragonard Musée du Parfum, which is a free museum right across from the Charles Garnier Opera House. My friend Natalie from class met me there and we went looking through all sorts of interesting paraphernalia, from alien-like distilling machines to vintage soap labels. This toilette set was apparently meant to fit into a car:
And if you want a subtle case for your perfume, one that says "I'm studious" instead of "I'm stinky," this museum has just container for you!
There is even a sampling room where visitors can try to distinguish between all sorts of smells, including for different variations on rose. There are also a few ancient vessels from Egypt and Greece used to illustrate the history of perfume use.
After a morning of pleasantry, Natalie and I went, for contrast, to the
Musée des égouts de Paris -- a museum that shows off the Paris sewer system. The entrance is basically a small kiosk above a hole in the ground. We soon descended into the Paris underworld...
The museum is actually very interesting, and documents the history of sewage in Paris since the days of tossing the contents of your chamber pot out the window. Apparently, when not fighting battles, Napoleon was trying to deal with major public works issues! But the main display was the "Bruneseau Gallery," named for one of Victor Hugo's friends. (The museum made a very big deal out of Hugo's writing about the sewer system in Les Miserables.) It contains a "flushing machine" that, as the museum brochure puts it, "traps the solids found in wastewater. The solid material is removed by means of the dredger that you can see above the basin." I think I'll just leave it at that...
Throughout the rest of the museum, we walked on metal grates, above flowing water. It's a good thing they are very sturdy.
Probably the most awesome part of the museum, however, was the gift shop, where they sell stuffed rats, carafes advertising the Paris sewer system, and postcards featuring beleaguered-looking sewer employees in messy situations. I guess now I know what goes on beneath the City of Light!
And if you want a subtle case for your perfume, one that says "I'm studious" instead of "I'm stinky," this museum has just container for you!
There is even a sampling room where visitors can try to distinguish between all sorts of smells, including for different variations on rose. There are also a few ancient vessels from Egypt and Greece used to illustrate the history of perfume use.
After a morning of pleasantry, Natalie and I went, for contrast, to the
Musée des égouts de Paris -- a museum that shows off the Paris sewer system. The entrance is basically a small kiosk above a hole in the ground. We soon descended into the Paris underworld...
The museum is actually very interesting, and documents the history of sewage in Paris since the days of tossing the contents of your chamber pot out the window. Apparently, when not fighting battles, Napoleon was trying to deal with major public works issues! But the main display was the "Bruneseau Gallery," named for one of Victor Hugo's friends. (The museum made a very big deal out of Hugo's writing about the sewer system in Les Miserables.) It contains a "flushing machine" that, as the museum brochure puts it, "traps the solids found in wastewater. The solid material is removed by means of the dredger that you can see above the basin." I think I'll just leave it at that...
Throughout the rest of the museum, we walked on metal grates, above flowing water. It's a good thing they are very sturdy.
Probably the most awesome part of the museum, however, was the gift shop, where they sell stuffed rats, carafes advertising the Paris sewer system, and postcards featuring beleaguered-looking sewer employees in messy situations. I guess now I know what goes on beneath the City of Light!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Catacombs
Today I went to Paris's Catacombs, created in the late 1700s to deal with the overflow of Paris's cemeteries. As in, the cemeteries were so stuffed with decomposing bodies that they posed a major health risk. Now those bones have rested in the catacombs for a few centuries and have no lack of visitors -- tourists have been checking out the catacombs since the mid-1800s.
Before I could go in, I waited in line with hundreds of people, all from different countries. I could hear German, French, and English being spoken while we were all waiting. When I finally made it to the ticket office, I noticed signs that said, "Any person caught stealing bones will be taken to the police." Wow.
After descending a loooong spiral staircase, and after traveling through some seriously long tunnels, the first things you see are a few sculptures by a quarryman named Decure, who was apparently imprisoned at Port Mahon and chipped out images of the fortress from memory. Here's an example of his work:
This interesting display was, of course, followed by more walking -- and if you ever go to the catacombs, wear shoes with good treads, because the stone you walk on is smooth, moist, and slippery! Eventually I came to a door that ominously welcomed me to the "empire of the dead."
And suddenly I was surrounded by human bones. They are piled up all around you as you walk, the skulls positioned to face outward and stare at you as you walk by. Some of them are arranged in interesting patterns, supported on piles of (former) limbs stacked beneath and around them. Flash photos aren't allowed down there, and it was pretty dark, but I managed to get a few decent pictures. As you walk along, you are treated to meditative quotations in French and Latin on the subject of death.
Although there must have been a ton of people down there with me, I got to do a lot of exploring without a soul in sight, and that made for a much better experience.
It was also cool to be in a place that Victor Hugo wrote about and that the French Resistance made use of during WWII. I kept expecting Michelle Dubois to leap out of the shadows and whisper, "Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once!" I was at least partially influenced by the fact that I had already walked along Avenue General Leclerc! (If you haven't watched 'Allo 'Allo, you should.)
As you walk though all those piles of bones, it's very difficult to imagine that they were all real people, once. As you leave the tunnel and approach the stairs leading back up to the street, there is a display discussing various activists and intellectuals -- both royalists and revolutionaries -- who were guillotined and dumped somewhere down there. A shame, really.
Before I could go in, I waited in line with hundreds of people, all from different countries. I could hear German, French, and English being spoken while we were all waiting. When I finally made it to the ticket office, I noticed signs that said, "Any person caught stealing bones will be taken to the police." Wow.
After descending a loooong spiral staircase, and after traveling through some seriously long tunnels, the first things you see are a few sculptures by a quarryman named Decure, who was apparently imprisoned at Port Mahon and chipped out images of the fortress from memory. Here's an example of his work:
This interesting display was, of course, followed by more walking -- and if you ever go to the catacombs, wear shoes with good treads, because the stone you walk on is smooth, moist, and slippery! Eventually I came to a door that ominously welcomed me to the "empire of the dead."
And suddenly I was surrounded by human bones. They are piled up all around you as you walk, the skulls positioned to face outward and stare at you as you walk by. Some of them are arranged in interesting patterns, supported on piles of (former) limbs stacked beneath and around them. Flash photos aren't allowed down there, and it was pretty dark, but I managed to get a few decent pictures. As you walk along, you are treated to meditative quotations in French and Latin on the subject of death.
Although there must have been a ton of people down there with me, I got to do a lot of exploring without a soul in sight, and that made for a much better experience.
It was also cool to be in a place that Victor Hugo wrote about and that the French Resistance made use of during WWII. I kept expecting Michelle Dubois to leap out of the shadows and whisper, "Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once!" I was at least partially influenced by the fact that I had already walked along Avenue General Leclerc! (If you haven't watched 'Allo 'Allo, you should.)
As you walk though all those piles of bones, it's very difficult to imagine that they were all real people, once. As you leave the tunnel and approach the stairs leading back up to the street, there is a display discussing various activists and intellectuals -- both royalists and revolutionaries -- who were guillotined and dumped somewhere down there. A shame, really.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Louvre
Oh Louvre, we meet again! The museum is as ridiculously gorgeous as ever. This time I went with my friend Kenneth, who I have not seen since we graduated from college a year ago. Since then, he has been teaching English here in Paris and generally being awesome.
We started with the classical antiquities, where Kenneth humored me while I told him my personal version of the stories behind various sculptures, such as the one of Hermaphroditus, who spurned the love of a nymph who was wild about him. Unfortunately she prayed to be joined with him forever, grabbed him, and caused them to become one person with both male and female attributes. Or that of Marsyas, who -- after Athena invented the flute but threw it away because it disfigured her face -- took the instrument up and was stupid enough to challenge Apollo to a musical contest. Obviously he lost, and was then flayed alive. Along the way, we discovered that Kenneth can strut his stuff just as well as Augustus's most beloved nephew, Marcellus.
Kenneth and I went wandering through the Greek and Roman stuff, and then checked out the Iranian and Mesopotamian art. What truly broke my heart about this visit, though, was that the Coptic exhibit is CLOSED! Quelle horreur! I'm so lucky I checked it out a couple of years ago, because otherwise I might have cried.
We also looked at some of the more modern sculpture, most of which was influenced by the classical stuff. Much to my delight, there were actual guards standing around and yelling at people who touched things. Last time there was no one! I don't know what makes people think it is okay to go around touching valuable works of art, but at least someone stops them now. One of the major differences between European classically-influenced sculpture and the "real deal" is a sense of modesty. While the Greeks and Romans let it all hang out, later work indulges in some very creative censorship.
"What are you staring at? Honey, that leaf has always been there!"
"Sacre bleu! A lion is eating me! But fortunately a cloth has flown daintily up to cover my naughty bits!"
"Excusez-moi, I just need to reach up and grab something..."
And of course, they dealt with this poor sap by giving him no manhood at all.
That is not to say that these European sculptors depicted subjects who were modest and up to nice and friendly things. I myself was chased by a lusty satyr!
It was absolutely great to see Kenneth again. And he's really good at French these days! Hopefully I'll meet up with him yet again before he goes back to the US for a vacation. As for the Louvre... I'll be back for more!
We started with the classical antiquities, where Kenneth humored me while I told him my personal version of the stories behind various sculptures, such as the one of Hermaphroditus, who spurned the love of a nymph who was wild about him. Unfortunately she prayed to be joined with him forever, grabbed him, and caused them to become one person with both male and female attributes. Or that of Marsyas, who -- after Athena invented the flute but threw it away because it disfigured her face -- took the instrument up and was stupid enough to challenge Apollo to a musical contest. Obviously he lost, and was then flayed alive. Along the way, we discovered that Kenneth can strut his stuff just as well as Augustus's most beloved nephew, Marcellus.
Kenneth and I went wandering through the Greek and Roman stuff, and then checked out the Iranian and Mesopotamian art. What truly broke my heart about this visit, though, was that the Coptic exhibit is CLOSED! Quelle horreur! I'm so lucky I checked it out a couple of years ago, because otherwise I might have cried.
We also looked at some of the more modern sculpture, most of which was influenced by the classical stuff. Much to my delight, there were actual guards standing around and yelling at people who touched things. Last time there was no one! I don't know what makes people think it is okay to go around touching valuable works of art, but at least someone stops them now. One of the major differences between European classically-influenced sculpture and the "real deal" is a sense of modesty. While the Greeks and Romans let it all hang out, later work indulges in some very creative censorship.
"What are you staring at? Honey, that leaf has always been there!"
"Sacre bleu! A lion is eating me! But fortunately a cloth has flown daintily up to cover my naughty bits!"
"Excusez-moi, I just need to reach up and grab something..."
And of course, they dealt with this poor sap by giving him no manhood at all.
That is not to say that these European sculptors depicted subjects who were modest and up to nice and friendly things. I myself was chased by a lusty satyr!
It was absolutely great to see Kenneth again. And he's really good at French these days! Hopefully I'll meet up with him yet again before he goes back to the US for a vacation. As for the Louvre... I'll be back for more!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Au Cinema!
Natalie (a friend from class) and I have decided that today we will go watch a movie in French. French cinema is known to be creative, classy, historically important, and highly artistic, which is why we chose the film we did.
I'll let you all know how it is!
Class today was fine. I'm still deciding how I feel about the school -- there are still no textbooks and ostensibly no set lesson plans. I don't know what the objectives of my course are, or how I am doing. The second day of class was a total bust. We had to practice French through "theater," which meant being put on the spot all day performing random skits. And if you are like me and have received no instruction in French yet, it is extra annoying. But the third and fourth days have been better. I am picking up vocabulary and learning to say various useful phrases. While I would like more grammar instruction, I can provide that for myself thanks to a delightful bookstore called WH Smith, where I blew some serious cash on French learning materials. As you know, the proper solution to every problem can be found in a book!
I'll let you all know how it is!
Class today was fine. I'm still deciding how I feel about the school -- there are still no textbooks and ostensibly no set lesson plans. I don't know what the objectives of my course are, or how I am doing. The second day of class was a total bust. We had to practice French through "theater," which meant being put on the spot all day performing random skits. And if you are like me and have received no instruction in French yet, it is extra annoying. But the third and fourth days have been better. I am picking up vocabulary and learning to say various useful phrases. While I would like more grammar instruction, I can provide that for myself thanks to a delightful bookstore called WH Smith, where I blew some serious cash on French learning materials. As you know, the proper solution to every problem can be found in a book!
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