Today I saw a little boy trip and drop his bottle of soda onto the base of the Code of Hammurabi. That's right, the actual Code of Hammurabi, the one dating from ancient Babylon that's now on display in the Louvre. The one that contains a priceless record of one of the earliest known sets of laws, inscribed in cuneiform on a slab of basalt circa 1760 B.C. You know -- THAT Code of Hammurabi.
Thankfully his soda was closed, and therefore I was able to laugh at the fact that he almost desecrated an irreplaceable historical artifact. But seriously, I have no clue why the Louvre allows people to carry around food and open bottles of soda in the galleries. Most of the works aren't behind glass, or even any sort of proper barrier. If I had the inclination, I could run around pouring orange soda over ancient Greek sculptures or smearing fries into paintings from the Italian Renaissance. The Louvre rent-a-cops would stop me before I got too far, of course, but they couldn't prevent me from destroying or at least damaging a work or two. The Georgia Aquarium won't even allow gum into the building -- they will make you dispose of gum that is still unopened and in the plastic-wrapped package, gum that is perfectly good and was just purchased the day before (not that I'm bitter or anything ... grrr.) And what are they protecting? Fish. The loss of a fish would be regrettable, of course, but it's completely replaceable. As for the Louvre, home to some of the most precious art and pieces of cultural heritage in the world? Come on in and bring your sticky, greasy goodies! It makes absolutely no sense.
To switch topics abruptly, I did in fact make it to the French Alps last weekend. Our morning train ended up being canceled because of the strike, but we were able to catch another train later that afternoon. Once we were in Grenoble, we ate some fondue (delicious!) and then spent the next two days hiking and enjoying the mountains. The weather was cold, the air was thin and the trails were steep, but the amazing views from the summit more than compensated for any struggles on the way up. The crisp weather, cute little houses and gorgeous mountain scenery reminded me a lot of Germany. I'll post later with photos and such.
Au revoir!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
La Grève
The transit workers in France were on strike today, and they have now decided to extend the strike until tomorrow. This is an especially concerning development, as I am supposed to catch a train to Grenoble (in the French Alps) tomorrow morning.
We'll see how this works out. Further updates as events warrant.
We'll see how this works out. Further updates as events warrant.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
La Normandie
I am going to spare you all the discussion on how lame I am, how it's been a week since I promised I would post updates, how the first of said updates pertains to a trip I took almost a month ago, blah blah blah. Instead, I will actually update for once, instead of just talking about it. How you like them apples?
Speaking of apples ... la Normandie (it actually works, I promise -- Normandie is known for its apples). What an amazing trip! The whole EDUCO crew traveled there for the weekend of Sept. 15-16. We had to leave at an insane hour on Saturday morning (7:45 ... ewwww), but thankfully I had Lizzie to wake me up and thus I was EARLY. That's right, early! Try not to fall out of your seats. Not to worry, though -- I still managed to delay the bus. In my defense, it was my friend Julia and not I who was late -- she called me and had me hold the bus -- but the irony was delightful.
After our slightly late start, we rode the bus for several hours before arriving in Bayeux, home of the Bayeux Tapestry. Gilles, our amazing tour guide, is actually Norman and a history teacher to boot, so he filled us in on the the Norman Conquest of England and William the Conqueror (a.k.a. Guillaume le Conquérant). The tapestry itself was very cool but took only about 20 minutes to view, so most of our time in Bayeux was spent touring the cathedral and eating lunch. Here's a back view of the cathedral:
Our next stop was the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach. I expected this visit to be powerful, but I was still stunned at its emotional impact. The Normandie coastline is breathtaking -- miles of clear, brilliant blue stretching beneath cliffs blanketed in a rich green -- but the natural beauty does not diminish the memory of the violence that occurred there. It is no longer a place of terror or destruction, but the struggle is preserved. It is a place of contemplation and reflection, a place of peace dedicated to the memory of war.
As you can see, it's a magnificent tribute to the American soldiers who fought there.
We left the cemetery a much more subdued group than we arrived, and the next stop on the trip, Pointe du Hoc, was equally sobering. Pointe du Hoc was a site of primary strategic importance during D-Day because of its location directly between Utah and Omaha Beaches -- the German guns situated there could easily fire on both landing points. It was also one of the most difficult places to secure, with steep, rocky cliffs and virtually no cover. I couldn't imagine climbing those cliffs, period, let alone with bullets raining down on me. Pointe du Hoc is the sheer face of rock furthest in the distance:
The land around Pointe du Hoc is still scarred with craters where the bombs fell. The deep pits register more immediately, viscerally, than the tranquil reflecting pools of the American Cemetery. You can also see the German fortifications, but the squat stone buildings don't have the same impact as looking out over the field of holes:
Pointe du Hoc and the American Cemetery offered two very different perspectives on D-Day and the war in general. Going to both was an extremely powerful experience, one that I highly recommend for any American with the opportunity to travel to Normandy.
After the WWII memorials, we drove for several more hours until we arrived in a small town on the coast. Here we had an amazing Norman dinner and then drove a little while longer to reach our lodgings for the night, a sailor school that rents out their hostel-like rooms. It sounds a little strange, but it was fine -- dormitory-esque, but fine -- and the view of the harbor was lovely:
The next day, we all piled onto the bus to drive to Mont Saint-Michel. Mont Saint-Michel is essentially a medieval village that's been preserved because it's all built on a single rock and never had room to expand or update. The rock is crowned by a giant cathedral and monastery (inactive).
It may not look like it, but it's quite a climb to get up there. This is the view from a cemetery halfway up the rock:
Still looks like we have the same distance to go as before, doesn't it? The views on the way up were beautiful, though -- the mud flats and meadows surrounding Mont Saint-Michel plus the medieval stone buildings.
Mont Saint-Michel used to be a tidal island, meaning its status as an island depended on whether it was high or low tide. Because of people hauling in land over the centuries to build up their pastures, the land surrounding it has become a polder (it's a word, I swear) instead of a true tidal island. It's now surrounded by these cool mud flats -- only problem is, the tide still comes in and out across the silt, thus creating vast tracts of quicksand. Victor Hugo said the tides here come in "à la vitesse d'un cheval au galop," or "as swiftly as a galloping horse." In reality, it's a little slower than that, but the tides still sweep in at a brisk one meter per second.
Fun fact: there are plans in place, to the tune of 150 million euros, to remove the silt and return Mont Saint-Michel to a true tidal island by 2012, complete with bridge and shuttle to the mainland. I wonder if they'll call it a tidal bridge, as it will really only be a bridge half the time and just a regular road the other half (har, har).
The cathedral on Mont Saint-Michel is fascinating -- parts that were rebuilt or repaired over the centuries were built according to current architectural tastes instead of matching the existing structure. The result is a hodgepodge of styles that represents more than 1000 years of construction techniques and aesthetics. A quick look at some of the styles:
Pre-Romanesque (Carolingian-era foundations/crypt)
Romanesque (nave)
Gothic (choir)
Neoclassical (nave exterior)
All from the same building! Fascinating, isn't it? Maybe not so much for non-art nerds, but I find it enthralling.
We also got to visit parts of the former monastery. These monks lived in great beauty, if not necessarily comfort. Here is their courtyard adjoining the church:
And here is their hall for receiving bigwig visitors like bishops and such:
Those arches are magnificent. Finally, we went down into the crypt, where we saw the HUGE columns that are anchored straight into the rock to support the church:
I don't know how well it shows up in the photo, but they are gigantic. We also saw this wheel-like contraption in another part of the crypt:
The monastery part of the cathedral was used to house political prisoners during the French Revolution, and apparently they would actually put prisoners inside that wheel, hamster-style, to turn it. The power the men generated was used to lift heavy loads of building materials and supplies.
After our visit to the cathedral, we ate a true Mont Saint-Michel lunch (complete with salt-meadow lamb and Norman apple cider) in a restaurant overlooking the mud flats. Then it was time to say our good-byes to Mont Saint-Michel and Normandie, load up the bus and head back to Paris. All in all, an amazing trip, and even more amazing because it was completely free. Way to go, EDUCO!
Speaking of apples ... la Normandie (it actually works, I promise -- Normandie is known for its apples). What an amazing trip! The whole EDUCO crew traveled there for the weekend of Sept. 15-16. We had to leave at an insane hour on Saturday morning (7:45 ... ewwww), but thankfully I had Lizzie to wake me up and thus I was EARLY. That's right, early! Try not to fall out of your seats. Not to worry, though -- I still managed to delay the bus. In my defense, it was my friend Julia and not I who was late -- she called me and had me hold the bus -- but the irony was delightful.
After our slightly late start, we rode the bus for several hours before arriving in Bayeux, home of the Bayeux Tapestry. Gilles, our amazing tour guide, is actually Norman and a history teacher to boot, so he filled us in on the the Norman Conquest of England and William the Conqueror (a.k.a. Guillaume le Conquérant). The tapestry itself was very cool but took only about 20 minutes to view, so most of our time in Bayeux was spent touring the cathedral and eating lunch. Here's a back view of the cathedral:
Our next stop was the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach. I expected this visit to be powerful, but I was still stunned at its emotional impact. The Normandie coastline is breathtaking -- miles of clear, brilliant blue stretching beneath cliffs blanketed in a rich green -- but the natural beauty does not diminish the memory of the violence that occurred there. It is no longer a place of terror or destruction, but the struggle is preserved. It is a place of contemplation and reflection, a place of peace dedicated to the memory of war.
As you can see, it's a magnificent tribute to the American soldiers who fought there.
We left the cemetery a much more subdued group than we arrived, and the next stop on the trip, Pointe du Hoc, was equally sobering. Pointe du Hoc was a site of primary strategic importance during D-Day because of its location directly between Utah and Omaha Beaches -- the German guns situated there could easily fire on both landing points. It was also one of the most difficult places to secure, with steep, rocky cliffs and virtually no cover. I couldn't imagine climbing those cliffs, period, let alone with bullets raining down on me. Pointe du Hoc is the sheer face of rock furthest in the distance:
The land around Pointe du Hoc is still scarred with craters where the bombs fell. The deep pits register more immediately, viscerally, than the tranquil reflecting pools of the American Cemetery. You can also see the German fortifications, but the squat stone buildings don't have the same impact as looking out over the field of holes:
Pointe du Hoc and the American Cemetery offered two very different perspectives on D-Day and the war in general. Going to both was an extremely powerful experience, one that I highly recommend for any American with the opportunity to travel to Normandy.
After the WWII memorials, we drove for several more hours until we arrived in a small town on the coast. Here we had an amazing Norman dinner and then drove a little while longer to reach our lodgings for the night, a sailor school that rents out their hostel-like rooms. It sounds a little strange, but it was fine -- dormitory-esque, but fine -- and the view of the harbor was lovely:
The next day, we all piled onto the bus to drive to Mont Saint-Michel. Mont Saint-Michel is essentially a medieval village that's been preserved because it's all built on a single rock and never had room to expand or update. The rock is crowned by a giant cathedral and monastery (inactive).
It may not look like it, but it's quite a climb to get up there. This is the view from a cemetery halfway up the rock:
Still looks like we have the same distance to go as before, doesn't it? The views on the way up were beautiful, though -- the mud flats and meadows surrounding Mont Saint-Michel plus the medieval stone buildings.
Mont Saint-Michel used to be a tidal island, meaning its status as an island depended on whether it was high or low tide. Because of people hauling in land over the centuries to build up their pastures, the land surrounding it has become a polder (it's a word, I swear) instead of a true tidal island. It's now surrounded by these cool mud flats -- only problem is, the tide still comes in and out across the silt, thus creating vast tracts of quicksand. Victor Hugo said the tides here come in "à la vitesse d'un cheval au galop," or "as swiftly as a galloping horse." In reality, it's a little slower than that, but the tides still sweep in at a brisk one meter per second.
Fun fact: there are plans in place, to the tune of 150 million euros, to remove the silt and return Mont Saint-Michel to a true tidal island by 2012, complete with bridge and shuttle to the mainland. I wonder if they'll call it a tidal bridge, as it will really only be a bridge half the time and just a regular road the other half (har, har).
The cathedral on Mont Saint-Michel is fascinating -- parts that were rebuilt or repaired over the centuries were built according to current architectural tastes instead of matching the existing structure. The result is a hodgepodge of styles that represents more than 1000 years of construction techniques and aesthetics. A quick look at some of the styles:
Pre-Romanesque (Carolingian-era foundations/crypt)
Romanesque (nave)
Gothic (choir)
Neoclassical (nave exterior)
All from the same building! Fascinating, isn't it? Maybe not so much for non-art nerds, but I find it enthralling.
We also got to visit parts of the former monastery. These monks lived in great beauty, if not necessarily comfort. Here is their courtyard adjoining the church:
And here is their hall for receiving bigwig visitors like bishops and such:
Those arches are magnificent. Finally, we went down into the crypt, where we saw the HUGE columns that are anchored straight into the rock to support the church:
I don't know how well it shows up in the photo, but they are gigantic. We also saw this wheel-like contraption in another part of the crypt:
The monastery part of the cathedral was used to house political prisoners during the French Revolution, and apparently they would actually put prisoners inside that wheel, hamster-style, to turn it. The power the men generated was used to lift heavy loads of building materials and supplies.
After our visit to the cathedral, we ate a true Mont Saint-Michel lunch (complete with salt-meadow lamb and Norman apple cider) in a restaurant overlooking the mud flats. Then it was time to say our good-byes to Mont Saint-Michel and Normandie, load up the bus and head back to Paris. All in all, an amazing trip, and even more amazing because it was completely free. Way to go, EDUCO!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
At long last ... updates!
Bonsoir mes lecteurs fidèles!
I am finally here to update you on the past few weeks of my life, including but not limited to a weekend in Normandy, a trip to Giverny, the start of classes, a weekend in Bordeaux and my birthday -- which may explain why this blog has been so long in the making.
On second thought, perhaps I'll split the updates into installments. I won't get too overwhelmed, you'll have neat little packets of reading with which to distract yourself throughout the day, the server won't crash under the weight of a mega-massive post -- it's a win-win-win!
Let the updating commence ...
I am finally here to update you on the past few weeks of my life, including but not limited to a weekend in Normandy, a trip to Giverny, the start of classes, a weekend in Bordeaux and my birthday -- which may explain why this blog has been so long in the making.
On second thought, perhaps I'll split the updates into installments. I won't get too overwhelmed, you'll have neat little packets of reading with which to distract yourself throughout the day, the server won't crash under the weight of a mega-massive post -- it's a win-win-win!
Let the updating commence ...
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