TravelStream™ news feed for member ilona1229 on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/ilona1229 en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Mon, 18 Aug 2008 17:21:39 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1219094220/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1219094220/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1219094220/tpod.html Mon, 18 Aug 2008 17:21:39 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

It's been a while. As often happens with me, I haven't been very consistent with my journal entries (this blog serving as an alternative to a traditional journal). But since I'm currently on a train headed to Strasbourg, this is the perfect time to catch up on my last two weeks in Paris. I'll try to go in chronological order.

In the last two weeks I've enjoyed both a healthy dose of Parisian museums, nightlife, dining and some travel outside of Paris. I went to see the Marmottan Museum, dedicated mostly to Claude Monet's art. This is where the painting that gave birth to the term "impressionism," Impression, Soleil Levant, is kept. It also has a stunning array of Monet's Lily Pond series, with enormous canvases covering one entire floor of the museum. The museum's general effect is not as impressive as l'Orangerie (which I remember liking as much, if not more, than the musé e d'Orsay), but it was worth a visit. There were also some beautiful Berthe Morisot paintings, particularly Eugene Manet et sa fille dans le jardin, as well as Renoirs.

I also visited the Opera Garnier, an incredible structure where I would have loved to see an actual opera, rather than just touring the grounds. Unfortunately for me, opera season is in the fall. If I had looked earlier, I would have been able to catch Victor Hugo Jr.'s Dame aux camelias, which I had read before coming to Paris. Funny thing is, in September they'll be showing Alexander Pushkin's Eugene Onegin, which I saw at the Bastille Opera five years ago with my grandma!

I toured the Fragonard Museum with a Russian group and learned all about perfumes. Fragonard is a perfume company that only sells its products in France, distinguishing it from other brands and giving it a superiority complex. I didn't like their perfumes much, but it was very interesting to learn about the different processes, flasks, etc; for instance, animal fat was used for a long time to make perfumes because it retains scents and liquid perfumes were created only much later. The best part was watching the employees trying to sell their products to the Russians. It felt like an outdoor bazaar, chic Paris style.

I was told by a very reliable source that the most romantic park in Paris is called "Butte Chaumont." So my roommate Marie-Claire and I went exploring and both concluded that it was indeed the most beautiful park we'd yet seen. It's on a hill, so the view is spectacular. It has luscious green grass that you can actually sit on, as opposed to the Luxembourg Gardens where it is only for decoration; if you sit, a kind police officer comes shooing you away. The flowers are impressively well-kept, there's a lake, swans and even a waterfall. The best part is, it's a bit far from the center, so there were no tourists except us! We had a lovely picnic and took a ton of pictures of us posing in front of flowers, etc. Right next to where we lived there is another beautiful park called Montsourit. Since we lived right next to it, we only got around to picnicking there on one of our lasts nights, a result of knowing that's just around the corner. It also came with the mandatory lake, ducks, pretty flowers. That's another thing about Paris that I will particularly miss: there's a crazy overabundance of parks. Parks, parks, parks everywhere! And they are all well-kept and stunning, small escapes from everyday hassles.

Remembering another lesson from my AP Art History course, I took a trip to the St. Denis Basilica, a breathtaking structure in the Parisian suburbs that houses the tombs of most of France's royalty. I have to admit that words can't really do justice to this church. The stained glass, the sculptures, the crypt that houses Louis XIV and his body parts in a separate jar; it was all incredible to witness. There's a statue of Marie Antoinette that looks so real, it's almost frightening. The detail on her dress, hair, even her breasts is remarkable. I thought it was quite the masterpiece.

The area around the Basilica is quite fascinating, too; I don't think I saw one French person. Instead, the entire neighborhood was filled with Arabs (mostly Maghrebians), Africans and some Asians. I tried a lovely pistachio and chocolate soft serve ice cream at a patisserie called Jeff de Bruges, did a bit of shopping (i.e. bought a dress) and exalted in the exuberance of French history. Interestingly, there were almost no tourists there either. I guess the fact that it's a bit out of the way and mostly an immigrant neighborhood is enough to dissuade people from going. Better for me.

Apart from Paris, I took a day trip to Normandy, first to Deauville and then Honfleur. It was so lovely. One of Monet's paintings at the Marmottan was of two women relaxing on the beach in Deauville; I can see why he chose to paint there.

The entire AGBU group went together and we had a delicious picnic on the beach after buying our lunch at the market. I bought fromage Calvados, now my favorite cheese EVER. It's made with Calvados, a type of cider drink produced in the region and it is the same consistency as a Camembert. Really, I practically ate the whole thing by myself, filling an entire artery with cholesterol. Also, I tried Pont l'Eveque cheese. It's somewhere between a brie and a camembert, though it has small holes and isn't spread able...so maybe it's only the same shape as a brie or a camembert. I bought sweet cider (yum!), berries and the most delicious pistachio and strawberry macaroon I have ever tasted! It was a small piece of heaven in each mouthwatering bite. Really, simply to die for. I wanted another, but there were none left.

In Honfleur, we walked around the square, I admired (though didn't eat) all of the pastries in the numerous patisseries. We went inside the main church, dedicated to St. Catherine. It was quite interesting because the roof was designed in the shape of boat, an ode to sailors. It also looked like two churches packed into one because one part was built and then the exact same structure was added on the other side to make space for a larger congregation. The effect is of a symmetrical structure, one that looks like you could just fold it in half.
The highlight was that I bought a lovely engraving at an out-of-the-way bookstore. It's from the 19th century so-called Pompier school. It shows two women lounging on a divan, no doubt gossiping. In the background you can see a party with people dancing, etc. I'm quite proud of it and can't wait to have it framed.

Then my friend Jérémie and I took a perfect little trip to Noirmoutier, a sort of salt and small potato heaven. It's an island in the region Vendée, past Nantes. Of course, I forgot my bathing suit so I remain a lovely pasty white. It's going to be embarrassing coming back to San Diego where everyone's been baking the entire summer and is probably a crispy golden brown. In any case, the island was perfectly tranquil and completely relaxing. Bike riding, sitting on the beach, eating and talking, talking, talking was practically all we did. I tried moules frites and I actually found that they were delicious (unlike oysters, I find their consistency much less gooey). Also, more cider (this time from Brittany) and galettes...a kind of crepe, but made with some other grain that Jé r tried to explain to me, but I just can't figure out. Anyway, it tastes much grainier than a regular crepe. It came with baked apples and deliciously stinky cheese on the inside. In other words, perfection. Thanks Jér!

My brother finally got here and so we spent three days touring Paris together. I took him to see Cimetière du Père Lachaise on the first day, probably a bit morbid of me, but I was being selfish; I'd been dying to see Oscar Wilde's grave since I saw Paris, je t'aime. In the end, out of the people I had really wanted to see, I only found Chopin, Edith Piaf and Wilde's graves (no Jim Morrison). There weren't cute little notes like there had been in the Montparnasse Cemetery, but it felt more like being in a park. It was so luscious, green and old, with such spectacular tombstones. Plus, the neighborhood around Père Lachaise is very attractive, with delicious pastry shops that I didn't get the chance to explore, though I did buy a fabulous lasagne with dried tomatoes, fresh basil and no meat that I will try to reproduce at home.

The next day we took a ride on the Ferris wheel in the Tuilleries, went up the Eiffel Tower, strolled the Champs Elysé e, saw the Arc de Triomphe and La Dé fense and explored the Musé e des Arts Decoratifs. I loved the museum! There was a temporary exhibition on Valentino, which practically made me cry. It's one thing to see his dresses in magazines and it's another thing to see them in their lovely silk and organza reality. From the permanent collection, I really liked the Medieval, Renaissance and art deco displays. They even have the bed that Zola modeled Nana's bed on (in the eponymous novel). It apparently belonged to a famous courtesan and it's really no wonder she had so many clients.

And here's a fun fact I want to share. I visited the St. Eustache Church in Les Halles and there was a group giving free tours, so I asked for one. The guide, who was generally pretty bad, showed me a triptych by Keith Harry, an American artist who died of AIDS. She told me that he donated the piece to the church as a thanks for being so accepting of the gay community, in contrast to most Catholic churches. So apparently a large part of St. Eustache's congregation is gay, which I find rather progressive.

In another aside, and a bit on the down side, I was offered an incredible job at a branding/naming company in Paris...and then it was quickly snatched away from me due to the labyrinth that is French bureaucracy. And just as my French was getting so much better (or at least I think?)! The office was right on Faubourg St. Honoré , the Parisian equivalent of Fifth Avenue. It's a long story about how and why, but I was offered the job and told I could begin in mid-September. Unfortunately, the director of the company was not interested in trying to acquire a visa for me. The process would have included advertising the job opening for at least a month and creating a dossier demonstrating that there is no French or European Union citizen who is qualified/capable of doing the job instead. How are you supposed to do that?! So I'm quite disappointed (yes, I had already painted my life in Paris in rosy hues), but one day....


]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1217347860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1217347860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1217347860/tpod.html Tue, 29 Jul 2008 06:15:19 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Giverny, Normandy, France

« Impressive. » That's the word that comes to mind to best describe Giverny. I suppose it's not very original since it's the home of the most famous of all the impressionists: Claude Monet.

I'd been dying to see Monet's house forever and finally my dream morphed into reality this weekend. In an odd turn of Parisian weather events it was even sunny and warm, not damp and cloudy as usual.

After my first failed attempt at catching the train to Vernon, I was prepared to leave my place over an hour before the train was to depart. This time, I made it a whole four minutes before the train's departure. Much better than ten minutes late!

In Vernon, my friend and I rented a bike and biked the lovely four kilometers to Monet's house in the little village of Giverny. It was stunning. The burst of colors was really quite astonishing. The lily pond is just as I had imagined it when viewing Monet's paintings in the Musée d'Orsay and the Orangérie. The house is just as charming as one would expect a (wealthy) painter to own: it's painted in the same shades of yellow, green and blue found in his works.

I don't know how many dozens of photos I took of the same bridge and lily pond, but it was all spectacularly breathtaking.

I also visited the Musée d'Art Américain, a small museum dedicated to the American impressionists. They had a really interesting video montage of excerpts of American and French films that show works of art by American artists. For instance, I hadn't realized that The Rocky Horror Picture Show features Grant Wood's American Gothic, or that Les Demoiselles de Rochefort features a specially-created Alexander Calder mobile. In short, it was interesting and novel. The museum itself has a gorgeous garden, in memory of Monet.

So there's not much more to say, really. It was stunning, relaxing and good exercise (the bikes were older than I am, which means it was double the effort). I'd go again in a heartbeat.

Since my last entry I've also found some very cool cafes, one called Les Etages near the Odeon and a wine bar in St. Germain des Près where all the hoity-toity Sorbonne students gather to be intellectual. Additionally, I've taken to eating a lot of baked goods (not pastries), especially in lieu of breakfast, lunch and dinner, but I reason that I'll pay for it when I get back to healthy Berkeley. You only live once and I don't smoke, do drugs and barely drink alcohol (usually).

In terms of cultural activities, I visited the Musée du Vin, a precious little museum with wax figures, displays of wine glasses and decanters, and a nice reward of a glass of wine at the end. All of this in the former cellar of a former church that no longer exists.

In my attempt to demonstrate that I do appreciate my Armenian heritage, I also visited the Komitas statue visibly located near the Seine, close to the Eiffel Tower, as well as the not very Armenian-looking Armenian church. It had a lot of paintings, a decorated dome, elaborate windows....everything that Armenian churches do not generally have. But then my attempt at appreciation crumbled when the priest (who was giving a lecture) decided that he was going to speak Armenian out of principle, despite there being two people who did not understand. Naturally, I left after an hour when he wasn't looking - and that's when I went to the wine museum. Really, I've had it with people criticizing me because my family thought it wasn't a big deal if I didn't speak Armenian. And if a priest wants to act that way...well, be my guest. I just won't be there to listen.

In addition to all that, I had an interesting (?) encounter with a crazy person yesterday in the grocery store. I had placed my bottles of water standing up on the conveyor belt. Naturally, they fell when the cashier moved the belt. The man behind me said something that I didn't understand, so I just smiled lightly and said nothing. All the sudden he starts muttering and the only thing that I hear is « Hysterical....Passive-Aggressive....!!! » Um, thanks asshole. As I was placing my stuff in a bag, the cashier asked the man if he was planning on going on vacation. His response: « It's not for my social class! » Well, what can you do, right?

Otherwise, I've been working rather hard, finding grants for the museum, doing research on tax breaks for corporate donations, translating incoherently-written French documents and creating a sponsorship brochure. It's fun, but it certainly doesn't leave much time for site-seeing. Luckily, I have lunch everyday either by the Seine overseeing Notre Dame, or in the Jardin Luxembourg, or in one of the many other gardens in the Latin Quarter. Just strolling after work after all the museums are closed is so wonderful. And I'm certainly appreciating that happy hour is well-established. You can get the best drinks at the cutest places for 5€! I don't take advantage enough...
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216826280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216826280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216826280/tpod.html Wed, 23 Jul 2008 11:30:29 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

In the U.S., pretty much everything is private. Privatization, as we all know, is a matter of pride for most Americans. Through my development research work at the Cluny Museum, I have found that most French, on the other hand, find this very American instinct rather incomprehensible, bordering on repulsive.

When I interned at SFMOMA, I quickly learned how important the communications and the development departments are. The development department at SFMOMA, for instance, has people who specialize in corporate sponsors, individual sponsors, different types of donations, etc. Then the marketing and communications department has its own director and down the chain to fill every nook and cranny that might need looking after. It's hierarchy galore, with very specific roles for each employee.

The Cluny Museum has one person who deals with communications, and who dedicates about ten percent of her time to development research. That's the difference between private and public. The latter still embraces the "starving artist" mystique that even contemporary artists run from as soon as they make the big bucks, while the former brazenly markets itself in the same ruthless manner as a Target or a Walmart.

I'm not really convinced that one system is better than the other. Is it better to fend for yourself by selling your soul to trustees who have the final word on museum acquisitions, but also bring in the money to make the purchases, for example? Or is it better to wag your tail in expectation and gratitude every time the State throws you a bone, even though it doesn't realize the necessity of renovation, restoration and modernization and, therefore, won't provide additional funds?

The French state funds about 60 percent of the budget of each national museum. That means that the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay get 60 percent of thier budget covered in the same way that the Cluny Museum gets 60 percent of its budget covered. There's no discretion or discrimination. But actually this is where the injustice comes in: It takes a lot more money to cover the Louvre's budget than it does to cover the Cluny's budget. At the same time, donors are attracted to the Louvre like magnets; it provides them with visibility, prestige and more tangible benefits like invitations to special events and complimentary membership. The Louvre makes it a hard competition for the other several dozens of museums to land outside financing.

There must be a golden mean somewhere, a half-way point between the outright commercialization of American museums (and very large French museums), and the self-righteous and too-pretentious-to-bother demeanor of medium-to-small French institutions.

I'll provide you with an example. Yesterday we had a little lunch party in the office. I started talking to the person in charge of web design and, unsuspectingly, suggested that a link to our sponsorship page be placed directly on the home page to make it easier to find. Her response was that, "It's atrocious!" According to her, the sponsorship page is aimed toward corporate donors who are rich and most likely have someone in charge of researching potential grantees. Hmm...can't we just make it easier, though? She later obliged, but her horror at the initial suggestion is indicative of a more general national perspective on the subject: art is sacred and must be kept away from money, which is degrading.

I don't pretend to have any inside knowledge about much. It's the general impressios I've gotten that have made me realize how different the American and the French perspectives are. I find that it's easy to trace the French mindset to the French Revolution, for instance. The "equality" in "Liberté, égalité, fraternité" means that art can no longer be for one class of people, but must be available to one and all. Since art is for every citizen, it is only right for the State to finance it. As soon as capitalists get their dirty selves involved, art is no longer precious; it's no longer art for art's sake, but art for money and, therefore, a matter of class and status.

I appreciate that whole-heartedly. I like that here there are people of all ages in museums, usually energetically discussing the chiaroscuro effect in this painting or the perspective in that one. I can understand why working with private enterprises is seen as the equivalent of prostituting oneself, but at the same time, art needs financing. Plenty of artists were more than happy to prostitute themselves and their work at some point or another to make a buck. It's called "patronage" and it has a long history that didn't commence with donations from VISA and Morgan Stanley.

In any case, the experience of working at the Cluny, talking to people and making them at least conisder the possibility that private donors can provide enough funds to build that new entrance, to restore the Roman ruins and the Medieval chapel, and to support the museum in its future endeavors, is already progress. I wonder if there's a place where the people's mentality is at the half-way mark between that of the French and that of the Americans. That would be the perfect middle to the two extremes.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216549620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216549620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216549620/tpod.html Mon, 21 Jul 2008 16:17:20 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Chartres, Centre, France

Before coming to Paris, I made lists of things that I wanted to do. I make lists for everything, so I made a separate list of the things I wanted to do in Paris and a list of things I wanted to do outside of Paris. On top of the latter list was visiting the Notre Dame Cathedral at Chartres. It was a do-or-die type of goal.

I took an AP Art History course in high school with one of my favorite teachers of all time, Mr. Trupe. It just so happens that the course is one of my favorites of all time, also. When he lectured, Mr. Trupe would always have some personal story to add about a family vacation when he was a little boy or some such thing. I made a mental note then that I had to visit Chartres, and on my third trip to Paris I finally have.

Some parts of the Cathedral, unfortunately, are being renovated and are mostly covered. However, the impression the Cathedral gives is breath-taking. It's just the right size to be spectacular without being completely impersonal. It's not like the Toledo Cathedral or St. Peter's Basilica, for instance, which, while incredible, are so huge you could run a marathon in and around them. And since during World War II all of the stained glass were taken down for safekeeping, it hasn't been impoverished by copies or, worse, contemporary designs.

The Cathedral offers something different on each side. It's probably thanks to the decades it took to build the thing that one can attribute the changing designs and sculptures. It's an incredible feat of Gothic architecture, and I'm glad I went even though I was all by myself. I hadn't even realized that Chartres is part of the Pilgrimage of St. James of Compostela, which ends in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. There are indications for the trail all around the town, though I can't say I saw any actual pilgrims.

Outside the Cathedral, there is a beautiful park from which you can descend down into the historic neighborhoods of the town, which line the Eure River. The Eure River actually resembles a canal. It reminded me a little of Bruges, with houses right on the river and small bridges and old churches spotted all around. It's the type of place I'd like to live in when I'm approximately seventy-five.

Chartres was a medieval town, so it still has remnants of the wall that used to protect the city from invaders. Searching for the wall is kind of like playing hide-and-seek because you have to know where to look. Or you can just walk and walk some more until you find what you're looking for.

Also, and most importantly, I delighted in the amount of delicious pastries that I saw. There's patisserie after chocolatier after patisserie after chocolatier....and so on, to anyone's heart's delight! I tasted the best coffee I've ever tasted, in Chartres. It must not have been French Roast because it wasn't so strong as to give me a stomach ache, nor did it taste like water. It was perfection. Also, there was a lovely open market in the morning with evreything anyone would want for a feast. To my own shame, I was too embarrassed to buy the cheeses I was eyeing. I always get a tad bit flustered when I go to farmers' markets.

For anyone who wants to visit Chartres in the future, the whole city goes up in lights as soon as it darkens. I left around 5 pm, being too tired to wait until 11 pm for the sun to set, but I'm told it's magnificent.
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Melun, Île-de-France, France

Vaux-le-Vicomte, as is indicated on its brochure, is a masterpiece of the XVIIth century. It's probably the glamor and mythical decadence of Louis XIV that attracts so many people to Versailles, but I bet most people don't know that the latter is a result of the Sun King's jealousy over Vaux-le-Vicomte's splendor.

Nicolas Fouquet, the brilliant and successful finance secretary to Louis XIV, built the château for his own enjoyment. The famous landscape designer, André Le Notre, created the beautiful gardens. When the Sun King saw Vaux-le-Vicomte, he asked the same group of architects and landscape designers to create a château for him - et voilà Versailles!

Out of jealousy or other reasons still unclear, Fouquet was imprisoned for nineteen years after rumors were spread that he was mismanaging the State's finances. In fact, it was Chief Minister Jules Mazarin and Minister of Finance Jean Baptiste Colbert, who were being disingenuous. The latter made it a point to bring down Fouquet, who ended up being apprehended by D'Artagnan, Louis's chief musketeer, and sent to prison. The reasons for this are hazy, though some claim that Nicolas Fouquet was actually the Man in the Iron Mask or was privy to certain State secrets that had to be kept hidden.

The château is rather well-preserved. Inside, you can see the private chambers and the more magnificent public chambers. In particular, the king's bedroom (in which no king actually ever stayed) and the library are brilliant. The lavishness of the château are very true to form to such a personage as Fouquet, but they aren't as kitsch-y as the exuberance at Versailles. Or maybe it's the claustrophobia I felt in Versailles due to the unbelievable number of tourists that made everything seemed more tasteful and - better? - at Vaux-le-Vicomte. There's really nothing like feeling like a packed sardine to ruin a traveling experience, no matter where or what it is.

The gardens were perfect, too. They were impeccably kept, with fountains and hidden grottos galore. Apparently, Le Notre also designed the gardens in Aranjuez, Spain and Petergof, St. Petersburg, both of which I visited. The former may not have been so marvelous, but the latter is absolutely incredible. Built by Peter the Great, Petergof was evidence of the czar's desire to emulate everything French. He did an excellent job. Le Notre also created the gardens of Versailles, of course, at Louis XIV's request (or demand?).

Maybe because it's a bit tricky to get to, Vaux-le-Vicomte remains a somewhat hidden attraction. You have to take the RER to Melun and then wait for a Chateaubus that doesn't come very often. I'd rent a car, but unfortunately I don't drive a stick shift and it's hard luck finding an automatic. Anyway, it was very worth the trouble.




]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216175520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216175520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1216175520/tpod.html Tue, 15 Jul 2008 19:04:28 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Chantilly, Picardy, France

One of the best benefits of traveling is that you inevitably meet a lot of very different people. Sometimes you just spend a couple of minutes talking to them - on the metro, at a cafe, while waiting in line - then move on and forget the conversation. Sometimes you become quick friends and, especially if you're traveling alone, spend the day together. Sometimes you stay in touch, but most times you don't.

I've been lucky enough to meet a lot of people on my travels. I met my friend John (who, by the way, I haven't spoken to in a long time) in a hostel in Prague where my friend April and I were staying. We all hung out together for several days, exploring the city's delights. The following year it just so happened that he was planning to travel in the Caucasus region and I was going to be in Armenia for two months doing an internship. He came to visit me in Yerevan and then we made plans for him to visit me in Madrid so we could take a trip to Morocco.

Last year , while I was visiting Milan and the surrounding region for a couple of days, I came up to a young woman and asked for directions to a church. She ended up walking with me to the church, helping me order coffee at a small coffee shop, showing me her university, having lunch with me and generally spending the whole day as my personal guide, in addition to teaching me a thing or two about Italian customs, politics and culture.

Just yesterday I was on the metro by myself going to the Champ de Mars to watch the Bastille Day fireworks. The man sittinng next to me began talking to me and it turned out that he is a contributing editor and photojournalist for Harper's Magazine. He gave me advice about careers, getting a degree at the SciencePo and left me with his business card.

It's not always easy to make lasting friendships, of course, because it's most likely that you live far away from whoever you meet. I was lucky enough to make several friends in Madrid, for instance, but two particularly good ones. One, Jacqueline, I stayed with in Madrid. The other , my former housemate Jeremie, came to visit me from Antibes this weekend. (Why didn't I visit him ?, you may ask . I just don't know!)

Thanks to my visitor, I had a wonderful weekend, despite the once again below par weather. Funny thing is, I was completely mortified to speak French with Jeremie last year because he found everything I said extremely funny and that quickly degraded the little self-esteem I had in speaking French. But since I consistently sound like a deaf-mute while speaking to my boss and the director of the museum where I work, somehow it didn't really matter what Jérémie thought this time around.

We had a very morbidly entertaining Saturday, full of dead people and their various remains. We started out with the catacombs early in the morning after a cup of espresso (which I am quickly becoming addicted to - I love especially when I can feel the caffeine flowing through my veins !). The wait was a modest hour and a half , but it was worth it. Inside, the French demonstrated their taste for black humor with interesting structures and artistic designs made out of the bones dug up from cemeteries around Paris. The catacombs were constructed because cemeteries were everywhere (thanks, of course, to the indiscretion of the French Revolution) and were quickly becoming a health hasard. So they dug up the bones and piled them in beautiful (pardon the anachronism) stacks in the catacombs. Dreary, but also fantastic.

After a Parisian lunch of salad and goat cheese on toast, we continued to the Montparnasse Cemetery to look at the graves of the famous dead. We visited Charles Baudelaire, Sartre and Beauvoir, Serge Gainsbourg and Ionesco, but didn't have the energy to search for Maupassant or Alfred Dreyfus. The best part were the lovely notes people left for the writers such as : « Monsieur Sartre, Why do I exist ?».

After passing by the glass Cartier Foundation building and realizing that we saw everything we wanted to see without actually needing to enter, we made it just in time for happy hour in the Marais, where the mojito was rather ok. Sitting next to us, two British girls started arguing with the waitress over the bill. They had come in a few minutes after us, missed happy hour and were now astonished by the reality of having ot pay €13 for cocktails. Excuse me, it's not the pound that's drowning, ok ? They're from London, do they never go out there ? Or are £8 entrance fees to PUBS of all places after 11 p.m. plus the price of drinks really that much better ? If you want cheap, go to Prague or Budapest and order a beer. It's cheaper than water.

Jér and I spent Sunday in Chantilly, a former residence of a former count, who was the closest cousin of a former king. It was a really nice and peaceful way to spend the day. The château is not as lovely or as grand as Versailles, for example, but much less touristy and, therefore, that much better. We walked around the surrounding park and I noted how fond the French are of parks and nature. There are so many possible escapes from the city, all within 30 minutes to an hour away.

The Chantilly château also had a beautiful collection of art, including two Raphaels, Ingres and Boticellis. The library was small, but inspiring and the information our guide gave us about family coats of arms was enlightening . For instance, did you know that you can tell if someone was a legitimate child of the king or a bastard by noting in which direction a diagonal dash is slanting on the seal ? Or that if a wife came from a higher family than the husband's, the husband would have to negotiate with the wife's family to include the wife's insignia on his family's coat of arms ?

After all that, we headed to Montmartre where we had a little picnic on the steps in front of the Sacre Coeur. There was a huge crowd getting rowdy in preparation for Bastille Day. There was live music and, unfortunately, those firecrackers that sound like bombs and can easily either burn someone or make them go deaf. Whoever thought of making those things was a real idiot. People in many places of the world have to feign normalcy in the middle of wars and here people have to act as though bombs are going off when everything is actually fine. Why ?

We finished at the very unerotic Museum of Eroticism. I think we both decided that a peep-show would have been more worthwhile. By the way, I heard that the Museum of Sex in New York is also very unsexy if you want to be nice and a complete waste of money if you're more to the point.

Bastille Day ! Actually the procession yesterday was impossible to see because of the number of people. After the parade, all the military tanks and other gadgets were placed all over the city so that people could look, touch, whatever, whatever. It's so French (in my humble opinion) to let people participate, learn, ask questions, but I just don't think military "anything" is interesting. And if we were in Berkeley, someone would definitely be protesting the presence and potential harmful influence of such machinary on children, or something similar.

At night there was complete chaos at the Champ de Mars. There was a concert, followed by gorgeous fireworks with an operatic background. It was truly beautiful, though there were so many people that a lot of what I saw was through my camera screen because I could hold it over everyone's heads. If you allowed yourself to forget that you were surrounded by 600,000 people, you could even imagine that you were in some old Hollywood film watching the fireworks around the Eiffel Tower.

Update on the pastries: I am not pleased. I tried two different ones and they were both disgusting. Then I had one today and since I chose to sit on the terrace, it cost me double: €7.50 for about five bites. I can't even say that it was great; tolerable is a better description. Also, I am planning to try some brasseries in the near future, with some real French cuisine.

P.S. Jérémie, thank you so much for coming to Paris, it was such a lovely weekend. I'm sorry you missed the fireworks.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215614760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215614760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215614760/tpod.html Wed, 09 Jul 2008 15:14:17 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

I have been in Paris for an entire week and the time has flown by like the wind, which is to say quickly, though it has been rather cold and windy since my arrival as well. Unfortunately , I had naively assumed that traveling in July and August did not warrant me bringing my winter clothes, so I have done a little shopping to make up for my silly mistake. I suppose one should never assume, even when it seems a logical assumption, lest you make an ass of yourself or, in my case, freeze to death. But even when it's cold and a little bit dreary, Paris is still beautiful.

I had a wonderful and very full first weekend. It's both exciting and somewhat frustrating, for instance, to realize that no matter how hard I try, I will not be able to see ALL of the museums and their respective exhibitions. There are so many museums and galleries in this city that the feat would simply be impossible to accomplish.

However, I did do my very best this weekend. On the first Sunday of every month all of the national museums (and there are many !) are free to the public. I decided that I had to take advantage and planned accordingly, skipping any daytrips.

Me and a group of girlfriends set out for the Picasso Museum at 9 a.m. on Sunday morning hoping to beat the crowds also on the prowl for free museum entries. Taking into account that most respected art museums have at least a few Picasso pieces and that the Picasso Museum in Barcelona is rather large and rather impressive, I was pleasantly surprised. The collection was by no means astouding (for that there's the Barcelona museum), but just right for a free entrance day.

A lot of the pieces in the collection were prints, photographs, posters of Picasso's art exhibitions and pieces created with miscellaneous media. For instance, there were collages made from sand, ceramic plates and large wood carvings in the « primitive » style that so fasinated Picasso and his buddies. It provided a good contrast to the typical works by Picasso, like the ones from his Cubist period, that are usually on display in museums. Although, of course, there were those, too.

The museum building itself was formerly a school, so it is rather unassuming with a small garden in the back. The best part is that it's situated in the Marais, a quirky Parisien neighborhood comparable to Chueca in Madrid, Hillcrest in San Diego or the Castro in San Francisco. Oh, it's also known for its Orthodox Jews and delicious latkes, so I suppose in that way it's also comparable to Brooklyn. I love strolling in the Marais and window-shopping the boutiques.

Between museums, my friends and I headed to the marché aux puces (a.k.a. flea market) past the Porte de Clignancourt metro stop. We got off a stop before the actual flea market began and entered a sort of farmer's market all along the streets. I took advantage of the prices and bought some bananas and tomatoes that I then had to carry around with me. Simultaneously, it occurred to me that the French are (mostly) so thin because the food is just too expensive to bother consuming. Why eat, anyway, when there are cigarettes and coffee, instead ? Too bad I don't smoke and too much coffee gives me stomach aches.

We walked down toward the flea market that turned out to be not very impressive. It reminded me of the flea market at Ashby station in Berkeley, but I bought a scarf anyway. Paris is experiencing « San Diego winter » right now, so I have to make do. Apparently, however, the antiques flea market that I was kindly told about by my wonderful boss at the Berkeley Art Museum was further down and we didn't know it. I think I'm done with flea markets for now, though.

My friends headed for the Dali museum in Montmartre after that and I went to the new Musée du Quai Branly, an anthropological museum commissioned by former president Jaques Chirac, which he dedicated to the study of different cultures of the world. The museum building, designed by the architect Jean Nouvel, had made headlines for its outrageous and somewhat shocking interior and exterior design, so I really wanted to see what the hype was about.

On the outside, the building (for probably no explicable reason) reminded me of the de Young Museum in San Francisco. Quai Branly is very colorful, with a lovely garden you can traverse before arriving at the entrance (not so at the de Young). The building is modern, but not so « modern » that if feels like a block of concrete dumped on the ground over the shapes of several dozen cube boxes to form a hideous grey fortress with a bunch of prison cells inside. This building is refreshing. What's not so refreshing is how impersonal the exhibition space is inside. Firstly , it was dark, which is good if you want to go to sleep. Secondly, there is a long passage, similar to those in airports, you have to traverse before getting to the permanent collection. Thirdly, it is difficult to figure out which explanations go with which pieces, so I ended up sort of strolling through the exhibition admiring the world's curiosities, but not necessarily trying to find the little descriptions that go with the objects and make them more meaningful. On the flip side, the choice of display is very original, with large wooden sculptures towering over the visitors and objectss hanging under glass with no visible suspension. Definitely creative, though I think that in recent years museum buildings themselves have sometimes become more important and admired than the material they present inside.

On Friday a friend and I went to the opening of an exhibition at the Petit Palais highlighting art with the theme « flamenco ». It was lovely to see the Palais and made me think again how wonderful it is to have so many cultural activities available for free.

My Saturday was not so full of cultural activities, unless you consider shopping a cultural activity, which it actually might be in France - or at least in Paris. There are sales EVERYWHERE, and since I was so good while I was at home, I indulged a little. And then a little more yesterday. And probably some more in the next few days, but really, who can blame me ? Like someone said to me : « You're only in Paris once when you're 22 ! »

I'll share a little silly encounter I had with the French language. In French, « soldes » means « sales. » There's a banner hanging on the streets that reads « Solidays, » so I thought it was a play on the words « holidays » and « soldes », as in « Sales are a French national holiday. » Then I googled it and found out that actually it's a festival to raise money for AIDS research, etc. But it would have been funny if I had been right...

Also, I have apparently been mispronouncing the director's name and my mispronunciation means something vulgar. A kind soul happened to share that information with me. Better that someone told me now rather than later, I suppose.

And since I mentioned cheeses before, I should mention the desserts. I have had two actual « pastries » (what I consider a pastry, which is to say more like a cake and less like a cookie) that were incredible. My boss treated me to a lunch last week at a Viennese pastry shop and I had a play on what's usually called a « framboisier » : light cream sandwiched between lady finger cookies and whole raspberries placed gingerly inside the cream. It was melt-in-your-mouth, I'll-kill-you-if-you-touch-my-pastry phenomenal ! I usually take photos of my beautiful pastries to sort of document my dessert experience, but I was embarrassed to do so in front of my boss. The other one was called « L'elixir ». It had pistachio and hazelnut mouse with berries on top and almond cookies on the sides. I don't have a picture of that one because by the time I brought it home it was smushed.

As for what the French call « Viennoiserie », known as« Danishes » in America (how multicultural !), I stop by a place on my way to work almost everyday to have breakfast : café crème and a flaky dessert of my choice. I love that part of my day when I can sip some delicious coffee, eat a croissant and read a bit. It's pretty much my favorite activity anywhere, anyway !

P.S. Jackie, I hope the details about the museums were to your satisfaction ! ;)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215140400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215140400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1215140400/tpod.html Thu, 03 Jul 2008 17:44:44 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Paris, Île-de-France, France

I feel so cliché I don't know what to do with myself. I saw a woman walking down the street (American, of course) who swirled around a small post and did a little dance in the middle of the street with an enormous smile on her face. She was obviously pleased to be in Paris and didn't mind acting like a fool to show it. I laughed, but inside I feel the same way. I'm completely in love with Paris. I almost cried today while sitting at the Cluny museum (also known as the National Museum of the Middle Ages), waiting for my boss to arrive to show me my work quarters.
The Cluny museum building is incredible. It has a winding staircase inside, a wooden ceiling and an incredible view of the neighborhood from where I work. It was originally the residence of the Cluny abbots and cannot be more perfect for housing Medieval artifacts. According to a museum brochure, "Built at the end of the 15th century for Abbot Jacques d'Amboise, brother of the principal adviser to King Louis XII, the Hô tel de Cluny is the oldest medieval aristocratic residence, and it is also the best preserved in Paris." The Hô tel was itself built on top of Gallo-Roman baths. It feels like an honor just to be inside such a historical place.
Yesterday, I took a guided tour of the museum and found that I understood most of what the guide explained. It helped that I had read up on material concerning the museum and also that the guide was Cuban; for some reason, it is easier for me to understand French in non-French accents. Maybe because they are less nasally?
Going to the supermarket has also been an experience worth documenting. Let us begin with the most essential food product: cheese. I spent half an hour in front of the cheese section looking, touching, smelling. I bought myself a delicious brie that was already cut and weighed, and had it for breakfast this morning with a little bit of raspberry jam. It's quite possibly the creamiest and most delicious brie I have ever had the pleasure of savoring. I bought other things, too, of course, but I can already tell that I am going to love going to the supermarket (not normally true) just to buy and try new cheeses.
Mostly I am very happy that I have been to Pairs before and done the essential "touristy" things. Of course, there is a large abundance of these "touristy things": going to the top of the Eiffel Tower, the Tour Montparnasse, the Arc de Triomphe; visiting the Louvre, the d'Orsay, the Cluny, the Orangerie, the Musee Rodin; strolling through the Tuilleries, the Jardins Luxembourg and down the Champs Elysee; seeing a show at the Moulin Rouge or Lido; admiring the Sacre Coeur, St. Sulpice and, of course, Notre Dame; riding a Baton Rouge. The list goes on.
However, this time around, I simply want to meet and speak with French people, eat a lot of cheese and pastries, drink café noir in picture book-like cafes and stroll down the Seine. Also on my list is going to a Parisian flea market, visiting the musee Marmatton and the musee Picasso, seeing the cemetery where Oscar Wilde is buried, and enjoying a theater show and a concert (preferably outdoor).
I have also - somewhat obsessively - made a list of all the places in the Ile-de-France that I would like to see, including Chartres. If I have time, I would love to take a trip to Normandy and to the Loire Valley, too. Maybe this weekend I'll start by just going to the Clignancourt flea market and then strolling (always strolling!) through Montmarte, followed by a visit to Giverny the next day? Even if my "lists" get discarded, it doesn't matter. I'm just enjoying being here! That's the way Paris was meant to be enjoyed I think, anyway: just by being here.

Postscript: My apologies for the particular sappiness of this entry.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214722800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214722800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214722800/tpod.html Wed, 02 Jul 2008 13:13:38 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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Madrid, Madrid, Spain

It's 3 a.m., but outside it sounds like it's the middle of the day -- there are drums, singing, clapping and I think I can even smell that pungent scent of drunkenness making its way through the windows of my friends' apartment on the fifth floor. It's to be expected, of course, since Spain just won the Euro Cup. Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole! The poor German tourists were walking around the city staring straight at the ground, probably trying to scurry back to their hotel rooms as soon as possible. I find it fascinating that a sport can be such a matter of national pride. The street vendors surely had great sales these past several days because the Spanish national flag is plastered everywhere: cars, balconies, restaurants, bodies. Everywhere. Some of the things people were shouting were rather creative, too. For instance, "Down with sausages, up with chorizo!" I was sitting at a terraza when a group of Spaniards ran up to two (most likely) German women and shouted, "These two aren't Spanish. There are "giris" (term for non-Spaniards similar to the Mexican term "gringos") camouflaged as Spaniards!"


My year spent living in Madrid will always remain one of the most memorable times of my life. It was a year of bliss, really. I traveled a ridiculous amount, school was not at all stressful by Berkeley standards, I had scholarships to keep financial worries at bay and I got to practice my Spanish and finally claim fluency. It was more or less heaven, despite certain unfortunate events toward the end of my stay.
These past four days, I retraced my steps through my favorite places in Madrid. My friends Jacqueline, Dani and I hung out in Parque del Buen Retiro, had plenty of drinks (sangrías, tintos de verano, batidos, though unfortunately I didn't get my much-desired granizado de limón) on terrazas, listened to jazz at Café Populart, went dancing at Bourbon and strolled the lively streets of Madrid.
We also did things that I hadn't had a chance to do the year before. Finally, I went to Círculo de Bellas Artes, a kind of exhibition house. Every year there is a huge, black-tie New Year's Eve ball in this beautiful building centrally located on Gran Vía. I had wanted to spend New Year's 2007 there, but since most of my friends vetoed the idea in favor of a party at a dingy little club part of whose admission cost would benefit some NGO , that didn't happen. Instead, we, including my friends April and Jackie, who were then visiting, ended up walking to what seemed like the ends of the world to a tiny, disgusting club with bad music and worse drinks. (I am not against giving money for good causes, but it is also, in my opinion, mandatory to have a fabulous time on New Year's. Maybe it's family superstition, but a good party on New Year's sets the mood for the ensuing year...). Well, I had still wanted to see what it would have been like to attend the festivities and I would like to confirm that the ball room at the Círculo de Bellas Artes really is quite splendid.
Also, last year there was a strange wall on the Paseo del Prado that was covered with a variety of different plants. It was quite impressive and this year I realized that it is part of the recently opened CaixaForum, a museum open to the public for FREE. I wish the U.S. would take a cue from the variety and availability of art accessible to the general public in Europe. It sure beats the approx. $15 museum entrance fees in San Francisco, or worse, $25 in New York. At the CaixaForum they were showing an exhibition of billboards and paintings created by Alphonse Mucha. He's generally considered the father of Art Nouveau, so it was very interesting to see his originals, especially since reproductions of his billboards - like his posters for Sarah Bernhard's productions - are so ubiquitous.
One night, Jacq, Dani, myself and some friends went out to dinner to a lovely African restaurant with rather decent food, considering that I never thought "ethnic" food was very good in Madrid. On the way to the restaurant we walked passed Penelope Cruz, who really is as beautiful in real life as she is on television and magazines. She averted her gaze, but it was so obvious; we literally passed each other on the street, though Jacq and Dani didn't notice. She was wearing a long purple dress with flowers, had her long black hair down and was walking with a small posse, in case anyone cares. She's my fourth European celebrity sighting - there was Colin Farrel in Bruges, Pedro Almó dovar and another Spanish actor in front of the Teatro Españ ol in Madrid and now "P" (as she's called in Spain).
That same night we went out to my old neighborhood: first we walked down Fuencarral (and past my old apartment), through Malasañ as and back to Calle Hortelesa. It felt like I'd never left Madrid to begin with. The year before, my two Spanish and two French roommates and I made the rounds around the entire neighborhood on a regular basis, hopping from one bar to another. Of course, my sense of direction is so atrocious - as is my memory for names - that this time I could not for the life of me find the little bar with the wonderful mojitos that are 8 euros for two.
However, I did buy the valencianas (a.k.a. espandrilles) that I had wanted forever. There's a little shoe shop near Plaza Mayor where they hand-make typically Spanish shoes and sell them for very reasonable prices. Every time I've been to this shop, there has been an enormous line of Spanish women waiting to snatch up their favorite color and style. I've always hesitated to go in because you're basically forced to buy - who's going to wait an hour in line in 100 degree heat to be shown a pair of shoes and then turn around and leave? Not me. So I got my pair and feel rather fulfilled.
So that's it - a quick four-day tour through last year's memory lane. Very satisfying.
And, of course, thanks so much to Jacq and Dani for putting me up and humoring me by going out dancing with me.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214357100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214357100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/ilona1229/1/1214357100/tpod.html Sun, 29 Jun 2008 20:38:35 -0400 Dispatches from Europe.

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San Diego, California, United States

It's 12 hours and thirty-five minutes before my plane departs early tomorrow morning. I've spent the whole day running small errands with my mom, happy that everything was going according to plan. It's been a lovely weekend (minus my younger brother's periodic tantrums). I managed to achieve my goal of attaining a respectable tan thanks to the San Diego sunshine. I don't know if it's global warming or my fraudulent memory, but I even found that the Pacific Ocean is much warmer than I remembered it, so I spent some time splashing in the waves, too.
But then around 6:30 pm tonight a funky not-quite-a-crash-but-close-enough-to-give-me-a-premature-heart-attack thing happened to my laptop and it took up all the time that was reserved for a lavendar-scented bath. Damn!
What happened-- I don't know! But since my six-week internship in Paris depends on me having access to my own computer, whatever the problem is could not be dealt with at that moment. Luckily, my mother was kind enough to drive me to Costco thirty minutes before it closed so that I could buy myself a new laptop...one that will hopefully not let me down (pray, meditate, *your preference here* for me). Thank the geniuses at Costco for their 90 day return policy that I'll be using after my return in 60 days!
Anyway, my next entry will be from Madrid. I can't wait!

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