Day 4 and 5: The Pere Lachaise Cemetary and Montmartre

I randomly ran into Michele who was walking a few steps behind me on our way into the Luxembourg Gardens. She was headed there to read, but she didn’t like the weather so she joined me on the Bus 69 (a very scenic route) over to the Pere Lachaise Cemetary. There, we visited Oscar Wilde, Gertrude Stein, Chopin, Jim Morrison, Moliere, Edith Piaf, Colette and what seemed like a million other permanent residents. I will have to post pictures of this place; the tombstones were like small houses for a midget civilization long gone. The place may is dilapidated, and graffitied, but this only adds to its beauty. I wrote a few pieces about this place, it was very easy to. Michele and I then worked our way back to the Bastille, then to Luxembourg Gardens where we read for a while, then parted for our respective corners of the city.
I should note that the days and nights in Paris are two separate chapters. The city changes when the sun sets. I am trying to write about this, but finding it very hard.
The fifth day, I started late and decided to go to Montmartre, the armpit of the city. Perhaps it was just the pouring rain, and my lack of umbrella or gore-tex, but describing this area as seedy is generous. I explored the area for a while, climbing Sacre-Coeur Basilica for the view of the hazy autumn Paris cityscape. The building itself is so unnaturally white that it looks like it is built from bone.
This area is most definitely a tourist trap, this was confirmed when I was immediately accosted by North Africans (great accents) who were busy scamming tourists. They went through 3 languages before they got to mine, but I escaped even though I was rusty at dealing with these guys.
Montmartre is dotted by buildings that had housed Edith Piaf, Maurice Utrillo, Dali, Renior, van Gogh, Picasso, Gertrude Stein, Toulouse-Lautrec etc… I even passed the Moulin Rouge, still hosting shows that include champagne in the ticket prices. This put me back on Pigalle, so I escaped via metro.
I finished up A Moveable Feast at Le Volcon, a charming little restaurant in Place de la Contrascarpe. The food is very simple and good, and I ate the largest meal I have had here yet. Starting tomorrow, then I am stuck in the dorms (evidently in the same dorms my Mom was at when she was here, I am just moving from one parent’s place to the others) so I enjoy my last night of freedom, despite all the rain.

Days 2 and 3: Dark Days in Paris

I was walking from Pont des Arts to Quai du Lourve when I noted that my ridiculous amount of walking does let my mind wander, and perhaps that's why I have needed to write so much. Inevitably, my minds wanders toward cars, so I sit down and write a few pages on my thoughts of nations and how cars reflect the essence of the nation where they are produced (totally random and probably total BS).
This is a prime example of this weird writers disease I have gotten. I have been writing about all sorts of random things. I even wrote about watching McGyver in French, the hotel wallpaper (it reminded me of Oscar Wilde’s dying words: “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go” in the end he had his way, the hotel he died at has been redecorated and his works live on, but I still love that quote), French designers, several Café’s, and a piece on the Monet works at Momartonn (which is an awesome museum that I highly recommend). The first impressionist piece he produced is there: the Impression, Soleil Levant with its angry red sun and grey ghost ships. They also had his Wisteria from 1920 that serves as ample evidence that abstract and minimalism was just around the corner. They also had five painting from his red period that look nightmarishly like mutilated (and bloodied) version of his paintings from Giverny.
I also decided that I should design my own clothes, because I wasn’t happy with what I have seen here. This is mainly because I totally was right about the velvet jacket trend, but I am not very happy with what the designers have done with it. Do not worry; I have now I have now written this idea off as foolishness.

Day 1: The Phantom Menace

This is the first real entry of the blog, hopefully this entry will be informative and perhaps even interesting. Unfortunately, the first sentence is neither informative nor interesting (and it looks like this one isn’t either). After a semi-sleepless flight with a talkative neighbor, I arrived with no hangups and set about my self-guided weeklong reorientation of Paris. I set about trying to get to know the left bank better, and walked from the 5th arrondisement to the 15th (where the dormitory will be situated), but I felt drawn to the right bank, with its more familiar territory.
I wandered around Paris University at lunchtime and found the longest line for sandwiches and joined it. I figured out the opera schedules (Cosi Fan Tutti!) and took up various stations around the city to read. I started on the steps of the Opera Garnier, the roof of Gallerie LaFayette, the carousel in the gardens off of Rue de Rivoli, the fountains by the Lourve and finally ended up back in Place Contrescarpe, where much of the A Moveable Feast takes place.
The hotel I am at is merely a hold over, the one I had planned on staying at doesn’t have any record of a reservation, so I am down the block at another recommended place for just one night. As much as I hate dragging around my stuff, I really want to stay at the other hotel, it is beautiful and has a great history, literary and otherwise (my Dad having stayed there in his med school days).
I went to Le Soufflet for a late dinner, but was so dead tired I promptly crashed thereafter, even though the Eiffel Tower had a spotlight on it, and I want to know why! I also need to make a list of stuff to do before classes start, but right now I know that somewhere on my list I'll make room for dressing up like Waldo (who must be French) and hiding in the crowds.

INAUGURAL ENTRY!!!

Fellow web citizens, we observe today not a victory of one man, but a celebration of freedom- symbolizing an end as well- signifying renewal, as well as change. This entry marks the end of Sage’s blogging silence, and the beginning of web based Sage bloggging madness. Do not for one instant believe that this blog was created out of some narcissistic foolishness, something that would befit a lesser blogger. Neh, the impetus behind the creation of this blog is akin to the divine inspiration spawned immortal art.
So take to the streets young readers! Kick your heels together and sing a jolly tune, fore today is the day that your web surfing woes are slain and its filthy carcasses are tossed into the gutters!