Sacre Coeur

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Final Stop: Montmartre

The Abbesses stop, designed by Hector Guimard

Yesterday was my last full day in Paris. It was cool and sunny (for the most part), and I decided to finally see a part of Paris that I had heard about but never visited: Montmartre. Montmartre is famous for its nightclubs - like the Moulin Rouge and Le Chat Noir - and as a neighborhood where numerous late 19th and 20th century artists lived and worked. Reading their names is like a role-call of the important painters of the last hundred-some years: Salvador Dali, Claude Monet, Vincent van Gogh, Henri Matisse, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Edgar Degas... and the list goes on.

I got to Montmartre from Montparnasse by taking Metro line 13 to Montparnasse-Bienvenue and then switching to the 12 and taking it all the way to the famous Abbesses stop with its original art nouveau sign (only three of these are left in Paris). I climbed the long spiral staircase - the stop is 36 meters underground - and stepped out into the beautiful arrondissement of Montmartre.

Artists' kiosks outside a cafe in Montmartre

The streets of Montmartre are charming, overflowing with cafes, creperies, corner markets, and enticing boutiques. It was a pleasure just to wander, but the real fun began when I climbed up the stairs toward the basilica of Sacre Coeur and found myself in a square filled with artists. Charles Aznavour may lament that Montmartre may not be the artists' colony it once was, but the place is still full of aspiring artists practicing their crafts among the crowds of tourists. Some of them are quite aggressive as well - I stopped to watch as one artist cut a little girl's silhouette out of paper in a matter of seconds and before I knew it he was cutting mine as well. It was such an unusual souvenir that I ended up buying it from him - at the somewhat expensive price of 15 euros. I don't know how many customers these artists get during the day, but it's clear that "starving" is no longer an appropriate epithet for the Montmartre artists.

Rue Chappe

After seeing the impressive basilica of Sacre Coeur, I wandered the picturesqu streets looking for the one souvenir my dad wanted from Paris - a photograph of the Montmartre steps that appear in the famous photograph by Brassai. I knew only the photograph and had no idea what the name of the street was or where to find it. I had thought that such a long flight of steps would be somewhat obvious, but what I hadn't realized was that all of Montmartre is a big hill and long flights of steps are everywhere. I finally found a postcard of the same spot and bought it. It had the name of the street on the back - Rue Chappe - and I stopped in a boulangerie and then a mini market showing the postcard around and asking where I could find these particular steps. The second attempt led to success and I spent ten minutes taking shots of the stairs from all angles.

My last stop was Cafe Chappe at the bottom of the stairs. After walking up and down a hill for several hours, I was in need of some refreshment, so I ordered a glass of wine and indulged in that most Parisian pastime - watching the world go by through the window of a cafe.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Saying Goodbye to Paris

The Eiffel Tower at night, taken from a Seine riverboat

I leave Paris tomorrow. It seems like I've been here such a short time, but it's already time to go. Seeing this famous city has been an amazing experience. There are a hundred things I wish I'd had time to do and never got around to. I'll have to content myself with the thought that they'll all make great reasons to plan a second Paris trip as soon as possible.

Leaving Paris also marks the end of my stay in Europe. I fly to Rome for a single night, then back to the good old US of A. And do I ever miss it! Whenever I leave America for a long stay overseas, I "say goodbye" to America by enjoying all the things I know I won't have for months to come. Now, I'm practically ecstatic about getting back to them.

Today I'll spend my time walking around Montemartre, a historic neighborhood in Paris that I haven't seen yet (it's where the Moulin Rouge is). Then I'll come home and pack, and tomorrow morning I'll be on my way. It saddens me to say "au revoir" to this beautiful place, but I try to remember that "au revoir" literally means "til I see you again."

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Doing My Cultural Duty at the Louvre

She's back there somewhere...

It amazes me how some things become cultural icons. I can only imagine there's a certain amount of path dependence in this. Someone - an important critic, a fashionable taste-maker, a high-profile political figure - likes something and bam! the rest of us like it too, for centuries to come.

What I'm going on about, of course, is the absolute pain in the ass it is to see the Mona Lisa in the Louvre.  I'm not big into painting, as I've said before, but I felt that it would just be weird to spend a day in the Louvre and not see the Mona Lisa. I could imagine people back home. It would be the first thing they asked and I would have to admit "no, I didn't see the Mona Lisa" and suddenly my whole level of cultural sophistication would come under suspicion.

So I decided to do my cultural duty and see the thing.

I have to admit, I never did see it well, because what I encountered when I walked into the famous painting's gallery was a mob of unruly, camera-wielding tourists all eager to do their cultural duty, too - and have digital proof they had done it. I thought for a brief second about trying to elbow my way through, but I rapidly decided it wasn't worth it. I stood on tip toe, looked enigmatic Mona in the eyes, and then took a picture of the frustrating crowd, almost all of whom were using flashes despite the signs forbidding flash photography.

The Louvre contains hundreds of masterpieces, my favorites being in the sculpture sections - the Nike of Samothrace, the Venus de Milo, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. At none of these artistic marvels did I find myself wishing for a SWAT team.

I don't mean to imply that the Mona Lisa doesn't deserve its hype, but at the same time, why the Mona Lisa? Why do some things fascinate us and feed our imaginations while others are just... cool? I doubt I'll ever understand. But at least when I get the inevitable "did you see the Mona Lisa" I'll be able to answer "yes."

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Such a Romantic City...

A detail of Antonio Canova's "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss" (commissioned 1787), in the Louvre.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Through the Looking Glass

One of the questions that obsesses me is "what is American?" I especially want to know what is American from the outside looking in - what do people from around the world consider American. I also want to know if it's a good thing, a bad thing, a selling point, a deterrent, an approbation, a moral indictment...

What is American?

So I'm always on the lookout for anything labeled "American" when I travel. I studied abroad in Ireland when I was in college and one of my favorite candies - purely for the name, I think - was a product called "American Hard Gums." They were like nothing I'd ever eaten in America. I suppose they most closely resembled gumdrops if you scraped the sugar off the sides, squashed them a bit, and made them slightly harder than stale jujubees. What made them American? I have no idea.

Here's something "American" I stumbled across while wandering around Paris. It hardly seems fair that the French get to the claim French tips and we get stuck with the airbrushed acrylic monstrosities. Which raises the question: are French tips really French?

Though I don't see a way of getting out of claiming acrylic nails as American. And I'm going to have to assume that in a stylish place like Paris, that is not a good thing...

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Taste of What's Out There: Chateauneuf du Pape

I never get French wine in America. First of all, it's expensive. Secondly, I would have no idea what to pick. My experience of European wines is pretty much limited to Italy, so if I have $15 to spend on a bottle of wine, I buy Italian - at least I know what I'm getting. In reality, three-buck-Chuck is more my speed, and though I genuinely enjoy a glass of nice wine, it just isn't in my budget.

So I really wanted to try a good French wine while I was in Paris and could avoid the import taxes. A European friend suggested I get a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape. The village of Chateauneuf has been producing wine since the 13th century and has a long history of supplying wine to famous clients, including a number of Popes (hence the appellation) and great French writers like Alexandre Dumas.

I walked into a wine shop on Rue Daguerre and in my horrendous French explained that "I search a particular bottle of wine - Chateauneuf du Pape." The kind shop owner suffered through my pronunciation and found me a bottle of the 2007 vintage for 19 euros. Then - because apparently I looked a little too scruffy to be buying a nice wine - asked if he should wrap it as a gift.

"No, I drink it," I declared. And drink it I did.

The wine was a serious departure from my usual range of Californian wines, but in a very good way. It had a mineral nose with hints of earth, medium body, and a well-balanced palate. The fruit flavors were subtler and not as juicy as is typical for American wines, so I can finally understand why my European friends often describe Californian wines as "like drinking jam."

Overall, Chateauneuf du Pape was an excellent introduction to French wines, one I wish I had more time to follow up on! I would strongly recommend it if you, like me, are curious about the famous wines of France but aren't sure where to begin.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Great Place to Shop in Paris (That You Can Afford!)

The entrance to Extrovert, a great boutique in the Quartier Latin

Everyone knows that Paris is a great place to shop. Unfortunately, to enjoy much of that shopping either you or someone you love needs to be independently wealthy. Being a penniless blogger myself, I've been on the lookout for good stores that I can actually afford, and I did find one that provides edgy European fashion for prices that didn't make me gasp. It's called Extrovert.

Extrovert (apologies to non French speakers, but the website doesn't have an English option) is located at 47 Rue St-Andre des Arts in the heart of Paris's lively and historic Quartier Latin. Rue St-Andre des Arts is a good place in general to find boutiques that won't break the bank, but Extrovert struck me as having a particularly exciting array of clothing and accessories - definitely stuff that will get you noticed back in the states - while still being affordable. The staff was friendly and spoke English and the styles ranged from clean and contemporary to vintage inspired to urban chic. Extrovert has both men's and women's sections and the guys' clothes were every bit as distinctively Parisian as the girls' (the white leather jacket in the window is a great example).

If you find your shopping trip exhausting, Rue St-Andre des Arts is also full of bistros and bars where you can have un verre de vin and talk over your plans to wear your new purchases to the nightclubs which you'll also find nearby.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Visiting the Musee d'Orsay

For most of western history, painting just isn't my thing. I mean, I love what they did at Lascaux, but after that I lose interest for about the next 16, 800 years.

Which makes the Musee d'Orsay the perfect museum of painting, at least for me. The Musee d'Orsay is devoted to impressionism, which is right about where I start to be interested again. With important works by Monet, Renoir, Pissaro, and Degas, exploring the museum is a chance to experience all the highlights of the movement that thumbed its nose at realism and academic painting and took its canvases into the great outdoors.

The Musee d'Orsay also displays works from the origins and aftermath of impressionism, including a small but wonderful collection of Van Goghs. A post-impressionist painter, Van Gogh shared and developed many of the Impressionists' interests, like light, experience, mood, perception, and outdoor painting. The Church at Auvers, one of my all-time favorites and one of the last paintings the artist ever did, is one of the must-sees among the collection. Works by Gauguin are also among the museum's post-impressionist masterpieces.

The Musee d'Orsay is located on Quai Anatole France (oddly enough, not on the nearby Quai d'Orsay) on the bank of the Seine near the Pont Royal. Tickets are 8 euros (not including special exhibits) or free with the Paris Museum Pass.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

The Writing on the Wall

I love graffiti. Great graffiti is beautiful and thought-provoking: it's art, it's comedy, it's social commentary, it's political protest, it's philosophy. Sure, some graffiti is inane, but some graffiti stays with you and makes you think. And of course, I'm hardly the first person to notice - by this point, artists like Banksy have raised graffiti to an accepted form of artistic expression, with glossy books in the MoMA gift shop and everything.

But just because I'm not setting the trend doesn't mean I can't enjoy it. I'm always on the lookout for interesting graffiti when I'm in a new city. I recently discovered this great wall - flanked on both sides by completely untouched white, in the quiet Rue de Verneuil in Paris. I spent fifteen minutes photographing my favorites. Here are some of them:

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Artisan Voyage: Name Disclaimer

So I just googled "Artisan Voyage" - you know, out of pure vain curiosity - and I was horrified to find that I'm not the first to coin the phrase. Apparently, some paint company I've never heard of decided to use it for one of their 2010 color concepts. They beat me to it by a full ten months. Bummer.

The curious can look here and here for the evidence. I suppose I should have thought to google my title when I decided to start my blog back in June, but it just didn't occur to me. And here I thought I was being all creative.

There is one thin silver lining I can comfort myself with. Realistically, 2010 is coming to a close. There's only four months left. Behr's is already coming up with their 2011 color concepts. They're going to move on.

But I intend to endure.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Quick Tip: The Best Way to See Paris

No matter how long you're going to be in Paris, the best way to see everything on your list is with the Paris Museum Pass. Available in 2, 4, or 6-day increments, the Paris Museum Pass lets you skip the lines at over 60 museums and monuments, including the biggies: the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, the Centre Pompidou, even Versailles. Costing only 32, 48, or 64 euros depending on how many days you want, it saves you money as well as time.

I found that having the museum pass also made me feel more relaxed about my trip. Knowing that I wouldn't have to wait in lines meant not getting up at the crack of dawn to try to be first into the Louvre. I could take a walk along the Seine between museum visits or have a long lunch without worrying about making it to the next museum in time.

My only caution to the museum visitor is to try to time your visits so that you don't have to eat in the museum cafes. They aren't terrible, but they certainly aren't worth their high prices!

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

One Wonders...

...what happens when one of the finest world cuisines combines with the cuisine that attempted to raise boiling to an art form? Magic? Or disaster?

Paris, France

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Ciao Italia, Bonjour Paris!

I'd been living in Italy for almost five months when I left Florence for Paris. I've spent a lot of time in Italy in years past, so living there comes naturally. I speak Italian well, if not with perfect fluency, and even holding long conversations about topics like politics or philosophy no longer fills me with dread. I know where to go in an Italian city to find what I need, and that isn't as straightforward as it sounds. For example, it took me several months to figure out that contact solution is purchased at the optometrist's shop, not at the grocery store or pharmacy.

Despite the fact that I've gotten very comfortable living in Italy, it didn't occur to me that I would experience culture shock coming to France. It didn't occur to me when I got off the plane, either. On my short bus ride into town, I started looking for things that were different. The architecture had changed, but that didn't immediately make me think "culture shock." Many of the differences I observed were even more superficial: advertisements for San Pellegrino got replaced by advertisements for Perrier. And some sights, like the big Pfizer building on the outskirts of town, reminded me not just of "home, Italy" but of "home, America."

The surprise really hit me when I got off the bus and set off with my luggage to try to find my apartment. My inclination was to stop someone and ask "dov'e Rue Daguerre?" but I realized with a start that I couldn't do that. This was Paris. People spoke French, not Italian. And suddenly the shock set in. I wasn't a local anymore. I didn't fit in. I didn't know how to do this. I didn't know where anything was. And worst of all, I had only English and the kindness (and thorough linguistic training) of others to rely on.

I did manage to find and enter my apartment, but I was an embarrassed mess by the time I did. It felt so.... so... American to expect people in a foreign country to speak my language. Many times I accidentally started speaking Italian, which felt even dumber and more embarrassing than speaking English. By the time I dropped my bags on the floor of my new home I was flustered and distressed. I had gotten so used to being able to navigate easily in a foreign country that I had actually forgotten what it felt like to be foreign.

If I thought back, though, I remembered this feeling. I remembered what it was like to arrive in Athens, for example, and how proud I was when I started being able to order food and ask for directions in Greek. I remembered when I first went to live in Italy and the simplest customs were mysterious sources of anxiety. And I remembered that I loved that feeling in a weird sort of way. I loved the discomfort and the challenge of having to learn how to do everything over again, starting at square one. There is a difference between traveling and living abroad, and I had been living abroad for so long that I had forgotten what it was like to travel. Maybe it was good for me to once again feel pushed outside my comfort zone.

So I braved the rain (it was pouring), bought a phrasebook, and began.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

A Taste of What's Out There: Macarons

I think most avid travelers are driven by the hunger for "a taste of what's out there" in the metaphorical sense. We want to know what makes the cities and countries and peoples of the world unique. Humans are creative and plastic, and as a result world culture offers more flavors than a gourmet gelateria. We avid travelers want to try them all. If we discover, in the process, the many important ingredients that all cultures share, so much the better. But first, please, the differences!

I, for one, am grateful that experiencing different cultural "flavors" in the metaphorical sense often means experiencing different cultural flavors in the literal sense. There's nothing I love more when I hit a new city or country than trying the local cuisine. So I'm going to use "a taste of what's out there" in the literal sense - a designation for an article about one of my favorite cultural experiences - food.

One of my best food experiences in Paris so far is the macaron. There's been a lot of macaron hype out there for quite a while, so much so that even major sportswear manufacturers have found ways to take advantage of it. I tried macarons back in February at a coffee shop in New York, but I was unimpressed. The meringue-y cookies cracked into dry fragments when I bit into the and the flavors were ho-hum: nothing to get write home about. So I had no intention of seeking out macarons when I was in Paris. Instead, I stumbled on them by accident.

I was walking through the Quartier Latin admiring the great boutiques and barely resisting the enticing bistros when I came across a colorful shop window. "Vive les vacances," it read. Damn straight, I thought.

But there was more to it. A line of people stretched almost out the door, and this made me curious. I took a closer look and figured out what the colorful little disks in the window were. They were cookies. In fact, they were macarons.

I had found my way to Laduree and a cookie conversion experience. Half a dozen people lined up to buy sweets must be on to something, I figured, so I went in and ordered three mini-macarons: pistachio, lemon, and - wait for it - orange tree blossom. This time, my expectations were not only met, they were blown away. The meringue shells crumbled delicately, the filling was juicy and soft, and if orange tree blossom isn't the most sensuous and seductive flavor a dessert could come it, I don't know what is. So this is what the hype was about!

The house of Laduree has been making macarons since 1862, so I guess by now they ought to be pretty good. Looking at it from a different angle, though, I have serious respect for a company that cares so deeply about a simple confection. It reminds me in an odd way of the Zen painters who painted circles. It may be a simple circle, but it's what I'm painting, and I will paint it with all my heart.

It may be a simple cookie, but I will bake it with all my heart... for the next hundred and fifty years.

The Laduree I stumbled upon is located at 21 Rue Bonaparte, but there are several others scattered around Paris, including one on the Champs-Elysees (75 Avenue des Champs-Elysees).

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Paris for One

I have no intention of making what is supposed to be a travel blog about my love life. I'm actually kind of private about my love life, except among close friends. But relationships are on my radar at the moment, as anyone reading this blog can see, and Paris - in this area at least - is not helping.

You see, I asked someone to be here with me, and he said no.

We're still seeing each other and we spent two weeks in Florence together - to be fair - but I can't help but think every time I see some beautiful work of art, some lofty monument, or some golden, inviting cafe, that I could be sharing this with someone I care about.

And I'm not.

The plight of professional thirty-somethings who have trouble finding love is a much-celebrated comedic trope: just look at When Harry Met Sally or Bridget Jones or, for that matter, the entire first season of 30 Rock. But the reason it gets celebrated is that it really does suck, and a sense of humor is the only Nothung to the Fafner of loneliness.

Unfortunately for me, it's after midnight and my sense of humor has already gone to bed. That said, I promise this will be the last self-pitying post I write about my love life.

And that said, I will add that I've been approached twice this week by perfectly attractive French men and turned them both down for the sake of my budding relationship. It's the right thing to do, but who can say if it's the thing that will make me happy in the end. I don't regret it, but it does make me sad. The promise of romance is part of the city's allure. It permeates the bistros along with their brass luster and cigarette smoke. It sweetens the sidewalk coffees. It turns the Eiffel Tower from "marvel of engineering" into "best phallic symbol ever."

There is simply something unfulfilling about settling for "Paris for one."

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

Getting to Paris

I came to Paris from Florence by a slightly round-about path. The Florence airport is very small and there are no direct flights from FLR to either of the Paris airports. Instead, I had to get a little creative.

I finally found a cheap flight from Pisa (PSA) to Paris Orly (ORY) on EasyJet. The flight left at 9:00 am, however, which left me with the problem of getting from Florence to the Pisa airport early in the morning. I probably could have done it by train, but instead I opted for the Terravision bus. Terravision provides cheap and reliable airport shuttle service to and from a variety of major European airports and is a handy service that budget travelers should know about. Tickets can be booked online and printed in advance, so all you have to worry about is being at the pick-up location on time. My bus picked me up at Florence's main train station, Stazione Santa Maria Novella, at 5:50 am on the dot and took me directly to the Pisa airport, where I arrived shortly after 7:00 am, in plenty of time to catch my flight.

Getting into the city from the airport was easy, too. I took the Orlybus, which leaves the airport roughly every 20 minutes, to Place Denfert-Rochereau, a major landmark in the south of the city. Tickets for the Orlybus are 6.40 euros and can be bought on the platform.

Finally, I found my Paris accommodations - a comfortable loft on the charming Rue Daguerre - on Airbnb, a website I found out about through an article on the travel site I used to write for, Students In Europe. Airbnb is extremely easy to use and the apartment I ended up renting is far more comfortable and far cheaper than getting a hotel (it's not much more expensive than a hostel would be, either). I'm sitting on my couch right now, enjoying the quiet and a glass of Cote du Rhone and agreeing with Airbnb's assessment of itself: "Travel like a human" is the company's motto.

Yep.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding

MIA for Three Months...

... which is not the way to start being a responsible adult who deserves a career and a relationship. I guess the spirit was willing but the flesh was pretty weak.

Everyone deserves a second chance, though, right?

So, where have I been? I traveled north through Italy, hitting Naples, Florence, and Pisa. All were fantastic experiences and I will definitely catch you up on them later. But I have to admit they take a back seat to where I am now. And where am I now?

I'M IN PARIS!

This is the first time I've been to Paris. I've done a lot of traveling and seen a good number of Europe's great cities: London, Rome, Berlin, Amsterdam, Athens, Munich, Salzburg, Dublin... and of course some of the wackier ones like Nicosia and my beloved Cagliari. So I was excited about coming to Paris but I was prepared to be a little let down. After all, there's so much hype about Paris. To an American, just hearing the word "Paris" conjures up images of worldliness and urbanity that we can't hope to match. The real-life city couldn't possibly live up to my expectations, could it?

Well, I'm not going to say I feel cowed by the impossible urbanity of Paris, but I will say I'm feeling thrilled by it! What makes Paris fabulous is that it combines the two most winning attributes a city can have: distinctive local culture and cosmopolitan amenities. In other words, I can go to a bistro and get great traditional French food, but if I got sick of it I could easily find sushi, falafal, palak paneer, or bi bim bop. I can sip cafe au lait under the Eiffel Tower, but I can also - and don't judge me for this - get the occasional Starbucks.

I'm in Paris for another week (I've already been here for one week, settling in and... facing up to my responsibilities), so for the next seven days I'll be doing my best to bring you the best from the incomparable City of Lights.

Copyright 2010 Sara Harding