Images of Paris

My ability to speak French did not improve, but the weather did. Just walking around Paris, you see so many beautiful monuments and bridges. Is there another city in the world (maybe Rome?) with so many beautiful, naked bodies permanently rendered in stone? Just in the gardens of the Louvre there are more delightful statues than I could possibly share. Here are a few of my favorites:

I usually like Maillot's sculptures, and this is one his best.

Cain, after killing Able.

Cassandra paying homage to Athena.

Even a mere streetlamp, of no particular importance can be worth stopping to enjoy

The first bridge that the girls, and Ted (Matt's father) and I wandered about was this Art Noveau extravegance . The Alexander Bridge was built in 1886, a gift from Russia.

Do you see the glass cat tails at the top of the metal stalks? The creators would never have imagined that a bit over a 100 years later, they would be mistaken for plastic water bottles.

According to the literature in the gift shop, the Eiffel Tower is the "most imaged" monument in the world, in the most visited city in the world. Once you are there, it is easy to see why this might really be true. It is so visually stunning, you can't help but feel that you have suddenly become a fantastic photographer

Back to the Louvre:

The outside of the glass pyramid, I am still not sold on it, but having walked around Paris for a couple of days I realize that they have so many, more attractive facades than that of the Louvre, why not obscure it? And the big, airy, light filled entrance below is really nice. 

As are the sculpture galleries. It is a wonder I ever got past them.

Winter

I love this little fragment of an Etruscan frieze. It seems to convey a child's discomfort, unchanged through the ages, with being overdresseds.

Girls telling secrets. Another thing that dosen't seem to change.

The Louvre averages 65,000 visitors a day, and has 650,000 square feet of exhibition space, and, yet, somehow, my-parents-in-law and I managed to run into each other.

 Della noticed this wonderful statue that reminded us of her nephew, Andy Lawrence, with his mischievous enjoyment of sharing music.

The Louvre has a crazy number of familiar masterpieces, such as:

Which I did not look for as I have seen if a few times, or the "Wedding Banquet" by Veronese, which Matt got to see on tour when he had a business dinner at the Louvre the second night. It is about 24 by 30 feet!

And I did not manage to get to this one by George De La Tour, the Card Shark, which I so wanted to see!

I ended up spending most of my time with 15th century Flemish paintings.

Van Eyck

I just love a painting that is both beautiful and funny. This one, the Ascension, by Hans Memling, is fantastic on both fronts. I can't quite explain it, but I think that Christ's feet about to dissapear are a riot.

Hans Memling

This one of Christian Symbolism makes me think that no major advances have been made in this area of rendering weird, creepy and intriguing images. Dali, Tarot Cards, covers of albums and  sci fi novels, nothing beats Jan Provost from the 14oo's.

Jan |Provost

 Here is another of his that I love. The arch angel (Gabriel?) is telling Abraham and Sarah that God had decided to bless them with a child. So much is said with the hands. The angel: Yup, the guy upstairs, Abraham: What! Me! Her?!! And Sarah: Hmm, is it true? Do I want this trouble?

Jan Provost

And here is my vote for most yicky painting in the Louvre. I am not a fan generally of Paul Ruebens, but this one takes the cake. It is the ickiest frosting on the ickiest cake. His women remind me of the Gary Larson cartoon of the "Boneless Chicken Farm". And here is this fellow, I think the title refers to him as a "hunter", who is astonished and delighted to come upon these fleshy cusions.

 

Ahh! I have not gotten to the Pompidou Center or Versailles and I have really got to stop! Hello and goodbye from all of us.

Greetings from Paris: Missing Madrid

 Trivia Quiz:

What countries receive the most foreign visitors?
What cities?

Answers, in 2010, according to The World Tourism Organization:

Most visited countries:
I) France, 76.8 million visitors 
2) USA,  59.7 million (and France is what, about a 12th the size of the US?)
3)China,  55.7 million visitors (first year that a non-European country made it to the top 3)
4) Spain, 52.7 million visitors

Most visited cities in Europe:
1)London
2)Paris
3)Rome
4)Barcelona
5)Madrid

I must be adjusting to Madrid because I find myself just a tad put out that most of our visitors from abroad have been on their way somewhere else, usually to Barcelona. Hmph!

Matt’s parents joined us in Madrid for a few days before going to Paris. (Next stop Barcelona). Not that I should complain. We have come with them, and I got to leave a day early with Matt. He had business meetings and I had a date with a museum. A whole day at the Louvre, with no one to hurry me. Quelle merveille!

Of course, I had conveniently forgotten about the minor inconvenience of plane travel. It was 12:30 by the time Matt and I parted at the Charles de Gaulle Airport, he to the business hotel and me to find transportation into the city, hopefully something cheaper than a taxi. We arranged to meet outside the Louvre at 7:30, by the glass pyramid that was put up in 1986.

I had only seen photos of the pyramid, but I was set against an oversized modern triangle obscuring the ancient facade. But okay, I could meet someone there.

In spite of all of the tourists that flood into the Charles de Gaulle Airport, the French seem only mildly interested that they find their way out of it. I will spare you the tedium that I endured finding a way into the city. Enough to say that inscrutable signs, broken escalators and an impossibly long line at the ticket window for trains had me longing to be back at the Madrid airport.

Finally, at 2:30, a bus let me off at the Opera. I had never seen the Galeries Lafayette. What a distraction! Nothing in Madrid comes close to this extravagant monument to the shopping experience. I could not resist going in to see what they had.

The interior looks like a fancy opera hall, but it was built as a market hall.

An hour later I woke up and realized – The Louvre! I should be at the Louvre! According to the tourist map that I picked up at the airport, it was not far from Opera  to the Louvre. Actually, it is far, especially if you have a REALLY bad sense of direction, as well as a bad map. Also, if along the way you decide you need to get something to eat, and to buy a better map.

A year ago, I was struggling to forget French so that I could make room in my head for Spanish. In the course of trying to get to the Louvre, I was appalled to find that when I tried to speak French, it came out as Spanish! I could hardly remember a word of French. And it is so humiliating when they just start speaking English. What a relief when I asked a woman at a store for directions and she actually wanted to talk to me in Spanish!

It was 4:30 when I finally got to the Louvre. But not to worry, I still have 3 hours. But no. Turns out, most days, the Louvre does not admit people after 4:30!!!!!!

Did I mention that it was cold and raining?

4:30!! A museum in Madrid might be closed at 4:30 for lunch time, but not for the day. And it would not be raining!

I spent the rest of my time before the girls got to Paris studying tourist maps and websites.

Paradoxes, the Economy, and Couches

 I am not entirely sure, but I think that the first of the Occupy Wall Street style demonstrations were the ones that took place here in Spain beginning last May 15th. The impetus was the announcement of major cuts to social programs, including education, just before local elections were to take place. The biggest occupation was near us, in Puerta del Sol. I was fascinated by the event and thought I'd see if I could get to the center of the square.

It was too packed. 

So, I went back in the morning when there would be less action:

Normally, Sol looks like a sort of quaint version of Time Square, much smaller, but with a similar bustle of activity of tourists and commerce. For nearly a month it was packed all day and well into the night with demonstrations and encampments, makeshift kitchens and offices.

If you are interested, there are great photos of this event at the following site:

http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2011/05/a-defiant-spanish-revolution/100070/

Another personal brush with the economic prostests: One evening this past August, we had dinner in Barcelona. In the street in front of the reastaurant a parade, or demonstration made its way. People were carrying placards, shouting slogans and blowing on whistles. The next morning, back in, Vilanova, the little town on the coast where we were staying,  two blocks from our apartment, I came across the startling effects of a small bomb that had gone off the night before, during a demonstration there that was associated with the one we had seen in Barcelona.

There was a funny conversation between some Spaniards that stood with me looking at the ruined car. As far as I could make out, the man was vilifying the rich criminals who had gotten Spain in such dire economic straights, and he was saying that the person who owned the car was probably one of those lousy criminals, and deserved what he got. These two women looked at him skeptically, and looked fearfuly at the effect of the bomb, but kept their mouths shut. Then a young man came by with keys to the car and said that the car belonged to the son of the owner of the corner bar. That took the wind out of the sails of the belligerent fellow. He looked sheepishly at the two women who smirked and shook their heads.

The biggest demonstrations this fall in Madrid have been over the cuts being made to education. Many teachers are being laid off; others' hours are being extended without any increase in pay.

I found myself in the middle of this demonstration two weeks ago as I was out shopping.

On the theme of paradoxes, thanks to Matt's company, which covers the cost of schooling, our children are attending what we have been told is the single most expensive school in the country.  As a socially conscious, former anti-materialist (see blog post from last November) I am not always comfortable being a relatively well-off ex-patriot living in a country that is in a serious economic downturn.

at a restaurant in Avila

Another paradox is that as we look out of the windows of our lovely apartment with the glorious view (also company subsidized) we can make out a small but growing community of hobos, just on the other side of the street.

I guess I should feel good about putting money into the Spanish economy, but I still could not help but feel a little guilty when we decided to get a new couch, and have one of the old ones reupolstered. Shouldn't I be contributing instead to a homeless shelter? But one of our couches, an antique with a beloved fabric of purple and gold, had been irreparably damaged in the move, and the other, a sturdy and fantastically comfortable couch, but abysmally ugly with scratches and tears in the fabric, needed to be re-covered. And, meanwhile, our girls were feeling quite self-conscious about inviting their well-heeled friends to our eclectically decorated apartment.  So, in the interest of beauty and comfort, though with a bit of a sense of guilt, we bought the new couch, I arranged for the city to pick up the damaged sofa, and I had met with a lovely Spanish woman, an upolsterer, to discuss fabrics.

Meanwhile, Matt and Claire got the old couches to the top of the stairwell in the building, just a floor above us. But the very heavy, damaged one had to be somehow carried 8 floors down and put on the side of the street to be picked up, and Matt was going to be off on a business trip. At different times, he and I both, with our poor Spanish, discussed this problem with Carlos, the ever-patient doorman. He assured us that he would move it with the help of a couple of friends.

So, Monday evening last week, I arrive back to the apartment expecting to see the purple couch by the street. It was not there, so I go in and ask Carlos "Donde esta el sofa?" His reply uses the word "estan," implying more than one sofa is involved. I rush back out and notice a pile of wood and fabric that looks strangely similar to the couch that I planned to have re-covered.

I quickly realized the hopelessness of the situation. I let it go - just another victim to the language impasse - and assured Carlos that all was bien, todo bien. And where is the other couch? He did not know. When I went up to the apartment the girls told me they could see the purple couch on the other side of the street - with the hobos.

Just as they expected, I went rushing out of the house with my camera.

I thought I would show off my new aquistion of the past tense and tell these fellows that I had owned that couch just this morning, that I was happy to see them enjoying it, and would they please allow me to take a photo? They looked at me blankly, and, after another stumbling attempt on my part, the fellow on the left said, with just the slightest eastern European accent, "Why don't you try that in English?" Ahh.... All was quickly explained and they kindly allowed the photo.

This one, I admit, I procured without permission, soon after I got up the next morning.

So, I guess I did end up making a contribution to the homeless. Though the sofa soon disappeared, hopefully because they took it under a bridge, and not because the city removed it.

Back to Madrid

Hello out there. I have been having a bit of a writer's, or would that be blogger's, block since getting back to Madrid.

Summer in the Massachusettes and Ontario:

Our biggest news of the summer was the return of Claire from her year in Italy.

Claire and Adele in Western Mass. where Claire and Caroline had picked up Adele from a bike tour.

It was great to be able to go back to the States and see old friends and family this summer. Because of two memorials for my father and a belated celebration of Matt's parents 50th anniversary, we were able see a lot of family members.

Matt with his parents and sister and brother

Adele, Claire and Iris with cousin Alexia

 It was odd to live as gypsies in our home town. Thanks to everyone who lent us houses, cars, camping gear, printers and so forth.

Hmmm, maybe gypsies would not travel with Iberia's maximum allowance of luggage?

Iris and Gramps at Logan

The Universe continues to conspire to teach me the foolishness of accumulating possessions. But, I am a slow learner on some topics. Including how to pack with a minimum of mess and stress. This is not long before our plane leaves. Sabrina looks like she is making an emergency call for help here.

Here I am trying to get the maximum weight into the maximum number of suitcases. I could not face returning to Spain without a year's supply of such things as peanut butter, maple syrup and powdered sugar.

Matt questioned the necessity of massive amounts of powdered sugar, but was over ruled by my determination to make sugar skulls and the girls' plans for cake icings.

But the two items I have come to consider essentiall for any trip, long or short, are my favorite Seiko alarm clock and a Moomin book of cartoons.

Back in Madrid:

Our second night back in Madrid was the first time in almost exactly a year that the 5 of us had sat down to dinner together. The last time being in our house in Concord, before we moved to the Best Western.

Don't look too closely at me in this photo. I hastily photoshopped myself in from another photo.

By the way, if you have the good fortune of going to Madrid, and your fridge looks like this:

DON'T arrive on  Asuncion de la Virgen, the Assumption of the Virgen, because the stores will definately be closed. And when you do manage to buy some food, don't leave your herbs out on the window sill of the kitchen where the August heat will sear them in just 2 hours.

In fact, don't come at all mid August, if you can help it. Mysteriously, the near million teenagers and young adults who came from all over the world to participate in the week long World Youth Day that Madrid and the Catholic Church had coordinated along with a visit from the Pope, they seemed unaffected by the heat. 

Normally near empty in mid-August, the city transportation system, and Starbucks, were      overwhelmed by these enthusiastic young pilgrims.

Madrid as the Land of Oz

I know that the following bit is long and lacking in images. So, I am enticing you with this intriguing photo. Read on to find out why I am feeling like Dorothy.

One of the posts I have been planning to put together is on Best and Worst of Spain. My pick for best is the emphasis that the Spanish put on spending time with friends and family. Much more than the average American, they gaurd their time off from the encroachments of work and commerce. For example, the typical worker has, at the very least, an hour off for lunch, and they would consider it completely bizarre to spend it in front of their computers absently wolfing down sandwiches. And there is little chance of spending lunch time shopping, as most stores are closed so that the store clerks may also enjoy their lunch. The reastaurants and cafes are full of groups of co-workers sharing three course meals with bottles of wine. On the weekends the  same establishments are full of friends and families, often three generations, enjoying long, unrushed meals together.

One of our enduring images of Spaniards is when we were at the airport leaving Morroco. Like most people there we had bought chips and sandwiches at a deli and were eating them in our plastic chairs while reading magazines. But there was a large group of Spaniards, several families or one extended family, who had pushed a lot of tables together and were enjoying a lively and unrushed meal with bottles of wine, right there in the waiting terminal.

 I have not seen any statistics on this, but my impression is that Spaniards on the whole are not big on traveling or moving outside their country. All in all they are very content with their family, their friends, and all things Spanish. Which can be a challenge if you are looking for something other than Spanish food, or you would really like to do some shopping around 3 o'clock in the afternoon. But all in all I admire them for making their social relationships their first priority.

So, if Spaniard's contentment with home is my favorite thing about Spain, what am I doing here? Wouldn't this seem like a classic example of the age old tale of going off to seek one's fortune while the real treasure is left behind?

In fact, I have been feeling forlorn, having left friends and family, and it did not help to find that two favorite friends here had moved away during the summer: one of the hazards of the ex-pat community.

Lets see, I think that would make Larry Elison, the CEO of Oracle the Wizard who I must appeal to get me home.

But the Wizard does not get Dorothy home!!!! Aahhh! Okay. Didn't the Good Witch, Belinda, help? Oh yes, it was those shoes. I have something like those.

These red slippers that I bought in Morocco caused my children to nearly die of embarressment.

 I had to take a solemn oath that I would not wear them in public. But if I just tap the heels together three times....

No, not yet. Besides Matt's job, there are other reasons to stay here. More on that in the next post.

Till then, Margot

I hope to hear from some of you. All of you really. I mean, there is NO one who I would NOT want to hear from. But I am sure you won't ALL write. Okay, anyway, you know what I mean.

 Leaving comments here did not seem to work all that well for most people, but emails are always welcome.

margotkimball@gmail.com