Showing posts with label paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paris. Show all posts

Tuesday, 18 February 2014

Pere Lachaise: On not kissing Oscar Wilde

I’d heard a lot about Pere Lachaise cemetery whilst on my Cultural Heritage Course: talk of memory, forgetting, commemoration and how even famous people get forgotten.

Pere Lachaise is Paris’ largest cemetery within the city of Paris; it stands at a massive 110 acres with more than a million internments. Accompanied by my oldest friend walking round Pere Lachaise provided many interesting conversations.

View from within.

The first person to be buried at Pere Lachaise in 1804 was a five-year old called Adélaïde Paillard de Villeneuve. Her grave isn’t there anymore; it was a temporary concession. There are a wide range of famous people commemorated in the cemetery all labelled with a number on a neat little billboard; philosophers, artists, singers, politicians. But finding them is less easy amongst the city of the dead, interspersed by people from all the nations of the world some famous and some not. 

Finding Edith Piaf was particularly difficult because her inscription was a little note on the side of a family tomb, not a massive monument. I still found myself wanting to sing ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’. Do you think that was appropriate? 

'Non, de rien de rien'

Oscar Wilde’s tomb is covered in a massive Egyptian motive created by Epstein. And the world and his wife have kissed the sphinx. With lips bright red, and the block next to the face is also covered in kisses of every hue. A big plastic box has been put in place to try to prevent any more amorous advances from visitors as the bill for cleaning goes to the family. So again, kissing and leaving your mark, acceptable?  We talked about the Diana memorial and the recent Judd-gate scandal. What constitutes appropriate memorialisation, especially when you can climb inside the memorial?

Oscar Wilde's sphinx
City of the dead
The style of memorial at Pere Lachaise might be a little unfamiliar to British audiences. Whilst some tombs were small and enclosed the majority looked like little houses varying in size from port-a-loo to full on chapel complete with pews and crypt. You can enter these memorials, and spend time there. Some memorials seemed to be glorified sheds and others were well maintained. The famous graves have been numbered, all have an address with many different street names. Although these are navigation systems the rows of doors with street signs and neighbouring properties really felt like streets.

The living and the dead

Streets of Pere Lachaise

Freezing a passing moment in time

We visited a strange quasi temple come crypt under this golden dome. I was attracted to one little corner by a flickering light that I assumed was one of those plastic tea lights. I was wrong. It was a real candle; and watching it flicker and then extinguish was a poetic moment full of metaphor. The candle was at the heart of a wider ephemeral memorial surrounding a well varnished plaque and we talked about how even the hardest rock is still temporary and memorials are for the living. 


Guttering flame

Friday, 14 February 2014

La vie quotidienne d'une parisienne

Right, you want to hear stories and with a valentine's day twist. So I'll just jump straight in.

The Revolution: Histoire

One of my biggest questions on my return to Paris was 'where are the museums dedicated to the history of the revolution?'. Here in the crucible of the Republic there are so few memorials. But I did fine one! The Musee Carnavalet is widely respected on the internet yet thoroughly hidden and un-signposted in the 3rd arrondissement. I mistook both a lycee on break and a French cafe for the entrance. But do find it.

Why? Its free. It is the most comprehensive history of Paris I've seen. Architecturally they've skinned various places from the inside and erected them inside the museum.




If you like potted histories of art, this is your place. If you want to learn about French costume and fashion history, its also your place at least til March. For me the real value of this place was the comprehensive collection of the Revolution as expressed through paintings, rope ladders, letters and other ephemera. I found it really helpful for locating what was going on in Paris during the Revolution; my only previous knowledge was what could be gleaned from Les Mis.




This little chap who looks like a hoob is portait of a soldier!

La cité de l'amour


Paris is famous for being the city of love; I saw several things that warmed my heart but I have to say I was low on romance. When myself and my two amigos emerged on Ile de la Cite we followed the sounds of birds cawing to a market full of caged birds and fluffy bunnies. It reminded me of all the books I've read where women are offered caged birds as love tokens and I just thought 'eww!'. The birds are so obviously sad and stuck and the bunnies too were balding and sad. So many things we buy for loved ones; chocolate, diamonds, little pets; with the best of intentions, I think I'll stick to cards!


Far more happily within 5 mins of getting off the tube my friend was snapped up by a Japanese fashion magazine. She deserves it cos she's gorgeous but I don't think any of us were expecting it!


Once we'd been papp'ed we made our way to the Southbank, passing Notre Dame with a cursory glance, in pursuit of Shakespeare and co. This is a bookshop; and you know how any old bookshop renders me helpless but this one had my knees all aquiver! We're talking two floors of higgledy-piggledy, gorgeous shelves, antiquarian and modern editions, a tubby white shop cat, live piano and even a cute little writing space. If heaven is like Shakespeare and co., but with fewer tourists, I'll be happy. Safe to say I bought things, and I'm not sorry.


Pain Quotidien


The whole reason I was in Paris was to witness the Private View of a dear friend and artist. He was displaying his work at ParisCONCRET. Its a gorgeous little gem of a venue run by two Kiwis, Richard and Anna Van der Aa and features (bi)monthly contemporary art exhibitions. Its well worth a lok and free to visit.

Something else that is just part of daily life in France is getting on and off the metro. There are almost as many different exit systems as there are tube lines but one I had particular familiarity with is the rotate-y handle thingamywhatsit! I almost didn’t board a train because of those handles once. Then I realised I had to feel the fear and do it anyway! We enjoyed feeling slightly like James Bond as we exited the train whilst it was still in motion.

Finally, French food. It is delightful. We really enjoyed access to cheap, delicious French cheese and wine and bread, pain quotidien.  One morning I decided to go out for breakfast and this version of a fry-up met my eyes; it looks like a smiley face I think!



Tune in next time for a trip round Pere Lachaise.

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

La vie Parisienne: why visit Paris?

Hey Y'all!

I just spent the weekend in Paris and it was great. But why should you bother getting the train to Paris?

Here's my little run-down:

They have pylons shaped like fox-faces!

















Its an exotic mini-break just 2.5 hours away from the office!


















They have amazing bread, cheese and wine at affordable prices. Pictured below the chevre coeur, &the other cheeses we snaffled; costing like £10, with an amazing loaf and my bottle of appelationed Cote du Rhone for less than 5€. I know, I was shocked too!














You can wear a beret whenever you please! On the first metro I boarded there was a fellow traveller; red beret, green coat, philosophy book in hand. Oh Paris!

The metro seats smile at you; look!

















As much history and culture as you can shake a stick at, and most of it free!





















Shakespeare and Co. !!! (more later)

















Lovely open skies, provided by wide boulevards and hills.





















To follow: 'La vie quotidienne d'une parisienne' and 'Pere Lachaise: On not kissing Oscar Wilde'.
Keep your eyes peeled.

Monday, 27 February 2012

Down and Out in Paris and London – George Orwell.


A couple of weeks ago my sister and I visited Paris and I thought I’d do some literary recreation and picked, Down and Out as my holiday read. I’ve liked Orwell since I read 1984 and so I suspected I’d also like Down and Out.

Tramps in Metropolis

Down and Out follows the docu-drama of Orwell’s life.  I call it docu-drama because rather like the recent fad for scripted reality tv, the book is based on real experiences but not a series of events in factual order and without embellishment. After quitting the Indian Imperial Police Orwell moved to Paris, wanting to become a writer and imagining he would eke out his living from journalism. This didn’t really work out and he was soon so poor he was working the tramping track and long hours as a plongeur or scullery maid. At the promise of a job he moves back to London but life is hard here too. The persistent poverty forms a suitable background for Orwell to tell a number of funny tales and to sermonise on the plight of the poor.

First of many

Down and Out is Orwell’s first published work. Reading it I was reminded of several themes I recognised from other novels written by Orwell. The reactions (scornful) of the tramps towards clergymen was reminiscent of the attitudes towards religious subjects in 1984. Similarly the diatribes at the close of the book on the lives of the poor and how they might be improved reminded me of other Orwellian essays (like How the Poor Die and Why I Write) I read as a teenager. The keen awareness of inequality found in Animal Farm has its nascence in Down and Out. When you think about it, it is quite remarkable, here was a man educated at Eton and the descendent of gentry, quite au fait with Henley who recognised there was a great divide to be crossed, and eventually crossed it for several years.

Intellectual Snobbery

I am a great fan of Orwell’s. During my teenage years his works offered a mirror in which I could see myself reflected. That is not to say that I went to Eton and was related to gentry but rather here was another person with a brain that worked well, faced with the dilemma of inequality  and trying to solve the problem.
I did feel, however, that Orwell could be accused of intellectual wankery. In the copy I was reading there were several times when words were not translated. Boris’ floosie can get food by pretending to be enceinte; Orwell gets jobs in grotty hotels as a plongeur and the majority of men in the lodgings were stevedores. Reading this book has been really good for my acquaintance with Wikipedia and the stevedore word has a really interesting borrowing from Portuguese that rewards investigation. This habit, of throwing foreign nouns in as if your reader will understand, reminded me of reading T.S. Eliot in 6th form. When you read The Wasteland for the first time it can feel bland and uninteresting; but when you are given the keys to all the cultural references suddenly a whole world is opened up and you declare the man a genius! The same, I would say is true of reading Down and Out, at first it might just seem like prohibitive intellectual wankery but further reading adds to the narrative.

Down and Out in Paris and London

Literary Comments

I imagine the literary amongst you think this is all very fine but are wondering whether it is worth reading the book! I thought it was funny, in places, and it made me do a lot of thinking, about dirt in hotels, the tyrannies of urban landscapes and the commonality of human kind. He draws some very endearing characters and on occasion is capable of brilliant description. But generally, the book is quite raw and lacks the comprehensive brilliance of his later fiction.

A lively read which complemented my travels across Paris and London very well but not his best work 3/5.