Oh, Paris. Largest city in France, the city of lights, and often times used (incorrectly) interchangeably with France. Paris is often described as the city that can change lives, or at least perspectives. It is also described as a touristy crap-hole devoid of authenticity and culture. I would definitely put it somewhere in the middle but leaning toward life-changing.
I have already been to Paris once-ish, so I was thankful to have all of the touristy must-sees and must-dos out of the way: Notre Dame, la Tour Eiffel, le Champs-Elysées. I decided that this weekend would have two goals in mind: to see as much art as possible and to visit the outer/less-touristy arrondissements (the French way to say neighborhood).
As for the art, I succeeded. I spent an entire day in the Louvre, which, is only one one bajillionth of the time that I could have spent there. I managed to get in free by simply flashing my student ID. (If you speak French well enough and proceed with confidence, you can find many little perks along the way.) I had heard the stories of how big the museum is and how impressive all of the works were, so I thought I was ready. I was not. After an hour had passed, I realized that I had seen approximately one fifteenth of the museum.
Highlights: artifacts from the Roman period (shout-out to my 8th grade Latin teacher for making this experience even more valuable), countless paintings of aristocrats in stuffy clothes from Italy, an awesome exhibit on Islamic art with gorgeous calligraphy, and finally, as much as I tried to be to cool to enjoy it, La Joconde (a.k.a. the Mona Lisa).
Lowlights: The section on African and Mexican art is closed on Fridays, so I did not get to see it.
I also got to see the Palais de Tokyo which had a lot of impressionist artwork – my favorite. Highlights include some amazing work by Matisse and paintings by Robert Delaunay (I still have not decided how I feel about all of his pieces).
As for the other half of my visit, I decided to take the metro to an unknown stop in a not-so-touristy part of town and see what I could find. I ended up getting off at Stalingrad. It was a diverse neighborhood, close to the train station, that was full of movement and life on every corner. There were at least two shops per block offering “Exotic African goods.” With my experience in Senegal, I set out to find my favorite soft drink ever, a pineapple flavored nectar of the gods called “Gazelle Ananas.” Although I did not get to find my soda, I did get to practice my Wolof and meet some amazing African immigrants living in Paris. For lunch, I opted for a hole-in-the-wall Turkish restaurant and had a delicious meal. I wish I could tell you what it was, but honestly, I do not really remember the name, nor do I know what it consisted of!
This seems like a pretty fun-filled and standard weekend trip to Paris, right? Well, here is the best part: the whole time Paris was covered with a thin blanket of snow. As someone who grew up in the south with parents from the north, I have that fondness of snow that only exists in those who have experienced it enough to know how to amuse oneself, but have not had to deal with the negative aspects: the shoveling, the monotony, etc. So, for this entire experience, Paris was in a rare form of beauty and I was walking around with my jaw on the floor the entire time.
Now, for the part of the week that I do not know if you enjoy or despise, but I am going to keep doing it anyway: the phrase of the week! Although, this week is not really as much a phrase as a general grammatical rule. In French, there is a hip type of slang called verlan. It is when you switch the syllables of a word to form a new word with the same meaning. For example, the word “famille” (pronounced fahmee), becomes mille-fa à “mifa.” However, the most frustrating part of this system is that you cannot use it on any word. For example, if you tried to take the word “baguette” and turn it in to “guetteba” you would be met with confusion and ridicule. The socially acceptable versions of verlan emerge from seemingly nowhere, but it is a cool thing to know. It is kind of like pig-latin but it is actually used by young French people. With all of this written, to you I say, “voi-rau.”